ArchivedLogs:On Qualifications

On Qualifications
Dramatis Personae Nox, Tatters
In Absentia	2013-03-20 In which recent events are discussed and everyone decides to go to a party.
Location <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow
Wednesdays are food pantry days, in which Nox organizes a team with ID cards to go upstairs to fetch what they can for the rest. The evening, as a result, has been a chaotic mix of organizing, parceling out and trying to keep Marrow from stealing All The Cookies. Oreos are a big crowd favorite and a riot would start if those were to disappear. Once Nox is certain no one is going to go for anyone else's throat, and that /most/ of the food is going to make it into the lost and found, she drifts off. These past weeks, she's alternated between moody and distracted, depressed and jubilant--not that many would notice, since it all tends to express in much the same way for the dark, quiet woman. But Tatters would know and it's to Tatter she goes now, sliding along the wall on a course to the Knight's front "door". "Tatterhood?" she murmurs, just outside of it. "May I come in?" "Uh, yeah, sure." Tatters' front door is, actually, a door. It doesn't have proper /hinges/ and is sort of wedged haphazardly in place instead, but it's a door and that is a /luxury./ The interior is rather spartan, save for a colorful chalk map of the sewers along one wall; presently, Tatters is sitting against the opposite wall with a needle and thread, sewing a blue denim patch over a set of clawmarks on her newest (and naturally, singed bloodied and clawed-at) hoodie. A wedged, tip-tilty door is no obstacle, Nox simply flows around it before resolving into a more proper shape for visiting. Of course she notices the clawmarks first, along with the burnination wreaked upon the hoodie. They bring her closer rather faster than she might have approached. Her feet and legs simply wisp away, to leave her on a level with Tatters. Looking at the clothes. Looking at Tatters. "A new monster?" "Maybe? Some green gobliny looking guy with fancy flying grenades. I blew off his arm and he ran away, but dunno if he'll stay gone. Also rescued a Xavier's kid who'd wandered down there for some reason." Tatters continues sewing the patch on, pausing after a few stitches to look up at Nox and sigh. "The sewers are getting weirder, and I don't know why. I met a girl at Evolve who'll make me some arms and armor if I can scrounge up some, like, junk electronics for her though. I don't think we use those for anything, do we?" The description earns a brief flicker from Nox--she is not best pleased to hear there's something /else/ in their tunnels. Her head bows, her hand needlessly passes over her face to rub at her eyes but as she has no eyes at the moment, just that blank expanse of black, it's more pose than practical. "I do not believe so, no. Sometimes the boys will play with it but it is only playing, better that you have improved gear," she says after a moment. "Perhaps...perhaps it is the result of the attention we have received of late. I regret that." "Maybe. I'm looking into it." Tatters sits back against the wall, closing her eyes for a second, then turns her gaze back up to Nox, her expression concerned. "How have /you/ been? You've seemed, like, all over the place lately. I'm sorry I've been too busy to talk about it." "If you could let me know what you find..." Nox reaches out, touching fingertips to knee in a gesture that is just as concerned and conveys support. Reassurance, maybe. To have Tatters aim the same at her brings her face into focus, just so that she can smile. Faintly. "My experiment in being more present in the world has gone poorly. And well. But mostly poorly. I have, ah...met someone. I think. Perhaps." Blink, the face is gone to hide a slight darkening in her cheeks. "And I have been invited to a ball. To make myself more /visible/, so the labs won't be able to take me again." "Met someone as in /met someone?/ Or just, you know." Tatters narrows her eyes /suspiciously,/ giving Nox a good long (supportive!) look, then smiles and leans back, nodding along. "And that sounds like a good idea, maybe. It's tempting to try and be obscure, so we aren't noticed, but...Prometheus /needs/ to keep a low profile. If better-known mutants start disappearing, the idea of them stops being so far-fetched." And after a pause, offers a final question. "Oh, and what sort of ball? If it's, like, a mutant-friendly place Lily might be interested." "/Met/ someone, yes. A young man." Nox doesn't offer anything more because to do so would be to break this calm, composed exterior she's managed. It needs shoring up, actually, so she extends her hands out in a silent request to take over the sewing. "They want to paint me as a hero," she admits, "and it is ridiculous, you were the one who fought that thing and took it down. It's being held by a man called Osborn? A man with ties to the government. We could think of no more visible event." "Nox, you /are/ a hero. You snatched children from the jaws of death and, like, carried them to safety at great personal risk. You rescued /everybody/ from the bloodspider while I was flailing around getting eaten. And you're, like..." Tatters waves a hand back towards the door, at the cavern outside. "Every day you're doing more for the people here than anyone else, doing things I certainly couldn't do. I get into more fights, but you do /way/ more good than I do, and certainly deserve some recognition for it." At the end of this though, she pauses, her face turning dark. "...but really? The Osborn gala...thing? He said some helpful things about Jackson on the news, but like..." /Frown./ "The Daedalus people emailed me. They want me to go to that too. Said the same thing about exposure, but also that 'my enemies' would be there, and it'd be a good opportunity to start keeping tabs on them or something. I tentatively told them to fuck off, and am trying to figure out what their angle is. It seems really fucking sketchy." Her left eye twitches as she conveys this information, obviously at least slightly agitated. When hand-waving occurs, Nox takes the opportunity to just /steal/ the sewing. Thereby proving Tatters' point without really intending to but she really needs something to do or she'll become fidgety. And no one likes a fidgety shadow. The stitches already done are inspected--and then she begins to pick them out in order to improve on them. Here is heroism, implying to Tatters' face that her sewing is terrible. Notice how she does not respond to the compliments, beyond a soft murmur of thanks. "It was mentioned that Osborn could potentially be very dangerous, yes. But..." She glances up at the other woman. "Sketchy. Yes. Very sketchy, for them to want to have you there. Could it be a trap?" "He did specifically assure me that it /wasn't/ a trap." Tatters responds with the driest possible voice, sighing slightly as Nox quickly undoes all of her hard (if sloppy) work. "But seriously, it's a friggen weird one if it is. If Daedalus wanted me, there's, like, /way/ more tempting bait then some bullshit night out with rich jerks who hate me. I mean, I probably wouldn't want to go even if it /wasn't/ Daedalus inviting me. And I don't think it's Osborn's trap, cause, well, it's visible! It's on the news. If the idea was 'Oh hey lets throw a party and invite all the mutants then NAB 'em!' he's gonna take /so much/ heat for it. It might be more, like, insidious, though, but I don't know enough about him to guess at that." After a few more moments of quietly watching Nox mend her sweatshirt, Tatters sighs. "Um. If this is a thing you want to do, then I'll come with you. If it goes south, we can punch our way out together. Or if you want to back out, we can avoid it like the plague together! Either way, I'm with you. Lily too." Nox's stitching is tidy, small and study. Naturally. "It does seem odd. Any way you look at it, it is most odd." She glances up again, face appearing so a thin smile can be offered once more. "Perhaps they miss you." Ahh, the gallows humor of the escapee. She shakes her head afterward and then bows it over the work at hand. The offer of moral support brings about a hum--this one of pleasure rather than laughter. A third arm is sprouted so she can reach out and give Tatters' knee a grateful squeeze, relief writ plain in ghostly expression and voice alike. "It is probably best if I go but if you were there...yes. Yes, please. I would feel so much safer. Not that...I doubt anything would happen in so public a place, as you say, but...this is...you and your sister, I am so fortunate." Then, before she can gush /too/ much, she adds lightly, "And we shall all be able to dress in proper clothes." "Daedalus said they'd pitch in if Lily or I needed help, uh..." Tatters laughs, rolling her eyes and snapping her fingers absently. "Crap, what's the word. Outfitting ourselves? That's not it but it was something pompous and silly. Um." She trails off, and then smiles. "Then I guess we are going to a ball! It is going to be exciting and terrible. I'll try and figure out who I need to offend, Lily will slip off to graffiti something, and you can actually dance and have a good time and stuff, it'll be great." "In acquiring the proper accoutrements?" This time Nox's hum is of the amused sort, though she's also shaking her head too. It is difficult to take an evil corporation seriously when they're donating party frocks--and her amusement only grows when picturing the havoc that the sisters could wreak upon a ball of this caliber. "Mostly terrible," she agrees with a small sigh, returning to pushing needle and thread through cloth. She is efficient; the tears are disappearing rapidly. The same can not be said of the stains. "But I will be able to introduce you to my...to the young man. Who has made it possible for me to attend." "Something like that, yeah." Tatters watches her sew absently, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "And I'd love to meet him! We need to vet him. Make sure he deserves you. Which we can do by gauging his reaction to Lily and I's /terribly/ unsophisticated behavior at this party." She nods earnestly. "It'll be like a romcom. We're the comic-relief best friends, and we need to know if he's the romantic lead or the stuck-up rival." "I would be the worst romantic lead in the history of romantic leads," Nox maintains before lifting the thread to sever it with her teeth. The sweatshirt is shaken out, studied and then turned to see if it passes muster by she who must wear it. "But I would like for him to meet you and Lily, yes. I...I think you will like him? He is very...he is..." Words fail. She ducks her head, all sorts of flustered. It leads to ragged edges and the dropping of the sweatshirt and needle as her hands go intangible. "He is very cultured," she says, trying to recover. "Well, that certainly doesn't sound like anyone I know," said Tatters with a shrug, in a moment of dramatic irony. "And pffft, you're almost as good a romantic lead as you are a hero. You're a courageous but troubled lady who spends her time taking care of children and is struggling to reconnect with the scary outside world. Also you're getting all /blushy/ which is..." she blinks, "actually really impressive when I think about it. I /do/ want to meet someone who, like, brings that out in you." "You are making me blush!" The accusation is a fond one but still an accusation. Nox's body-shape fades out entirely while the shadows near the edge of the walls pick up an extra richness. "That is only the story for the newspapers. Or the party. The thing. To be visible." Congratulations, Tatters, on making a shadow squirm. And retreat--it sounds as if she's sliding closer to the doorway. "I am sure he will be very happy to meet you and Lily both," she says along the way, "he is a wonderful man. His name is Lucien." "It's also /true./" Tatters points a finger at Nox threateningly, with a grin. "Seriously, if you don't fess up to the fact that you're /great/ I'm going to start organizing holidays in your honor. Maybe the little ones will do a /parade./" Her eyes narrow, and she pounds a fist gently into her palm as she continues. "And he'd /better/ be. Or I'll pound him flat." The name is mentally filed away for future reference, next to that of the gay fellow named 'Lucy' she's met a couple times. Maybe they know each other? "Oh dear, oh dear," Nox murmurs humorously as she makes her escape--fleeing from ALL of the threats--around the tilted door, "perhaps I should warn him that I come with such staunch defenders." But then, that wouldn't be very sporting, would it? "Yeah, do that!" With a grin, Tatters watches her leave, then leans over to retrieve her fallen sweatshirt and pull it back onto her lap, getting back to work.