Logs:The Slow Way

The Slow Way
Dramatis Personae Naomi, Spencer
In Absentia	2020-11-08 "I just wish I could get people to understand."
Location '<NYC> Lower East Side - Lower East Side'
Historically characterized by crime and immigrant families crammed into cramped tenement buildings, the Lower East Side is often identified with its working-class roots. Today, it plays host to many of New York's mutant poor, although even here they are still often forced into hiding. Much of the electrion result celebrating has died down, but plenty of New Yorkers are out enjoying the beautiful, unseasonably warm afternoon. There had been a 'we won't stop fighting' march going on for a while, but it's recently dispersed and largely folded into the Roosevelt Park cleanup party. Spencer has just appeared here in the long strip of park sandwiched between Chrystie and Forsyth streets, with a passenger in tow. He looks incredibly pale and sick in a black t-shirt with the silhouette of an X-Wing against the backdrop of the Death Star's surface inside the large red number, jean shorts, and gray canvas sneakers. He wears a black Bucharian kippah embroidered with stylized stars and planets in many colors, though it's still obvious on close inspection his head is shaved, and carries a shoulder bag with a heart containing a strand of rainbow-colored DNA. He sways on his feet, leaning on his companion. "Oh no...I think I'm gonna have to sit down for a minute. Again." He winces. "Sorry." Naomi, still clutching onto Spencer’s hand, quickly drops her grip, wrapping that arm around Spencer’s back to try and support him. “No no no don’t apologize!” Her other hand flutters anxiously at her side, casting around the unfamiliar area for a bench or a seat, spotting an unoccupied one behind them and tugging her classmate in that direction. She looks significantly healthier than her companion, dressed in a loose grey pullover and high waisted jeans, off-brand red high-tops scuffing on the pavement. Somewhere in the faded yellow backpack on her shoulders there is a sloshing noise. “Do you need more water?” Her scaled forehead furrows, the scales grinding softly against each other as the skin shifts underneath. Spencer leans heavily on Naomi, and just settles for sinking down onto the berm of a tree box. "No I'm good." He tries to smile. Props his elbows against his knees and takes a few deep breaths. "I mean I had chemo again Friday, but last time it took like a week before I started feeling this queasy." This is kind of plaintive, kind of annoyed. "What do you think, so far? I mean there's not as many people out today as there have been, but still. I'm glad things aren't just--you know, 'back to normal' or whatever." He frames 'back to normal' in finger quotes. Naomi pulls out a bottle of water anyway, though after Spencer rejects the offer she just holds onto it. Eventually she sits down on the tree box next to Spencer, her concerned expression easing marginally as the boy breathes in and out. “That’s some bullshit,” she declares. “The chemo, I mean, not this. I think this rules.” She pauses, contemplating the people around them. “Though, I dunno. The election party energy is… weird." A small frown. "Like it was the most most important thing yesterday." "It is bullshit!" Spencer seems unreasonably excited about this, grinning despite his obvious discomfort. "But it beats cancer I guess." Kind of skeptical, there. "Yeah I mean..." He hangs his head. "Dawson's funeral was yesterday and the whole city was just like." His shrug is quick and tight. "You know. And anyway it's like...like, do they really think everything is gonna be better now? Or better with a new president?" He plucks at his shoelaces, the motion delicate and repetitive. "I dunno, I just don't see any of this really changing until we force it to." Naomi’s lips are pressed tight together but in a grin, clearly holding back a laugh. “Cancer is /also/ bullshit. It should be illegal for mutants to get cancer. We got enough goin’ on.” The laugh is successfully restrained, and she gets serious again. “Hootin’ and hollerin’ like that when someone’s going in the ground…” She shakes her head. “It don’t feel right.” Someone with a Biden/Harris shirt jogs on by. The moment they’ve passed, Naomi makes a face. “They care ‘bout brunch more than our future. Ain’t right.” Her eyes flit from the back of her hand to where Spencer’s hands rest. Spencer snorts. "Brunch is great, but like -- we can have brunch and also justice, you know?" He hugs his knees, turning his head sideways to look at Naomi. "I just wish I could get people to understand. If we could at least all stand together on some basic important stuff..." Half-buries his face against his arm. "Maybe some people think they've already done that and it's over." Naomi pulls her pack off her shoulders, hugging it to her chest. Her chin rests on top, her eyes sweeping out over the park. “I really wanna make people understand, sometimes.” This is quiet and low. Naomi’s hand curls against the fabric of her pack. “I think - I think I could. I’m not sure, but I think I could.” She doesn’t meet Spencer’s gaze. “I know that ain’t right either, but - I could make ‘em listen. And it’s temptin’, sometimes.” A beat. “All the time, really.” Spence's gray eyes go very, very wide. "Oh wow." He presses his face tighter into his elbow. "If I could do that -- it would be so hard not to, sometimes." His shoulder hunch up tighter. "Maybe all the time, really. Guess I'm glad I don't have to make that call, you know? But..." He hesitates, his gaze darting up to meet Naomi's very briefly. "...I figure I'd think of it like violence, you know? Like maybe sometimes you gotta defend yourself, or someone else. Whether that's with your brain or -- whatever." “Mm hmm.” Naomi turns her head, lays it down across the top of her pack so she can look at Spence properly. “Started like that, when the scales came in? People were messing with me. Told ‘em to stop. Then it was my parents, then it was bus drivers when I couldn’t get a ticket to come north. Then it was Isolde in the common room.” She bites her lip. “I dunno how that happened. Wasn’t even for good reason.” As the sentence winds to a close, Naomi straightens up. “Wait, can I -“ She flushes. “Can I try somethin’ on you, real quick? Promise it won’t be weird or bad or telling you to think anything.” Spence's eyes grow even wider. "I can't really imagine, I mean -- that sounds terrifying, honestly." He blushes. "Maybe it wasn't terrifying for you. I mean I don't know your life, the kinds of danger you were in before. Or now. And like...I don't think you'd be telling me all this if you weren't trying to do right with your powers." He sits up a little straighter. "Um -- ok? Will I know what you're telling me? Like do I forget it?" He sounds at once alarmed and excited by the prospect. Now Naomi’s face goes hot, flushed as she tries to backtrack. “Oh, I wasn’t, like, tryna make it about me or whatever. Just-“ A small shrug. “Ionno. You ain’t scared of me and you ain’t my brother. I trust you, Spence.” She shifts, facing Spence with her whole body now. “Um, I’m pretty sure you remember unless I tell you to forget? Which, I’m not gonna.” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. When her eyes open again, they are glowing a bright emerald green, pupils slitted like a snake's. “Stop having cancer.” Naomi blinks again and the glow fades, her pupils returning to normal round human-looking shape. “Uh. Do you feel less. Cancery?” "I mean -- I'm interested in stuff that's about you!" Spencer says brightly. "And I think it's pretty hard to scare me with powers, anymore. I've been dealing with them a long time." He watches, fascinated, as Naomi's eyes change, and he sucks in a quick breath at her command. "Whoa." After a moment's thought. "No, I feel just as cancery and chemo-y as before." He licks his lips. "I really appreciate you trying, though." He scoots over and bumps his shoulder against hers. "Seriously." Naomi sighs, head dropping. “Darn it.” When the shoulder bumps against hers, she doesn’t return the motion, instead tilting her head to rest on Spence’s shoulder for a moment. “Sorry. I just wanted to try an’ help.” Her face and tone are incredibly dejected at this failure. “I’m interested in stuff ‘bout you, too. Too bad neither of us can“ she makes a familiar POP sound with the inside of her cheek, “- your cancer away.” "Who knows, right?" Spencer shrugs, small and oddly shy. "Doesn't hurt to try! But I think I lot of folks would be just. Afraid to. Try." He looks down at his hands. "And like, i can't really blame them, either. But..." He smiles, ducks his head. "I'm glad you did. I would love it if you could like -- tell cancer off." Though the smile was genuine enough he has to fight to keep it on his face, and he looks relieved to be able to just lean his head against Naomi's. "But I've got doctors and stuff. I'll be ok, probably, and I can probably jump again soon, buuuuuut..." He holds up an index finger and points along the crossstreet they landed on. "There's an awesome bodgega I wanna show you that way." Naomi is quiet, nodding slightly as Spencer speaks without pulling her head off his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt bunches up against her cheek, the scales of on the edges of her forehead scratching lightly at Spencer’s skin. “You’re gonna be okay.” It’s not said as a psionic command, but there is a forcefulness in her tone, like Naomi is willing the world to make this true. Her eyes follow Spencer’s finger, and a smile grows on her face. “Oh yeah?” She stands up, holds her hand out to her friend with a cheery grin. “Let’s get there the slow way.”