Logs:Bitter Arrows
| Bitter Arrows | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-03-06 "Sometimes in order to make an omelette you have to torture a few kids." |
| Location
<NYC> Le Sanctuaire, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens | |
This café occupies what had been the sanctuary of the old cathedral, and retains some echo of its solemnity without any sense of severity. Two additional levels have been installed in the trefoil footprint, but do not extend all the way to the walls, supported instead by a sturdy steel frame. This gives the impression, as one enters, that the space is fitted with scaffolding and perpetually under renovation--but in a deliberate, beautiful way. The harsh lines of the load-bearing frame are softened by wrought iron fleur-de-lis scrollwork accented in gold. The tables and seating are also of graceful black iron relieved with cushions in red velvet. The long counter is curved along the back wall, and to either side arched doorways lead out into a colonnaded patio in the garden. In one lobe of the trefoil, a square spiral stair ascends to the upper levels, while a platform lift does the same opposite, both balancing utilitarian design with aesthetic sensibility. The most striking addition is the immense stained glass window, masterfully marrying to the neoclassical splendor of the original structure and the Parisian café ambience of the added levels. Its colors are rich yet pellucid, its lines clean and decisive, and its subject decidedly not Christian. The towering figure of Apollo gazes down serene and benevolent, three golden arrows clutched in his right hand and and a golden lyre cradled in his left arm. He's bare to the waist save for a sumptuous red mantle and gold pauldrons, and wears a white skirt overlaid with gold pteruges. He is crowned with a wreath of living green laurel, the great silver bow across his back like the arc of a crescent moon rising across the bright sunburst that halos him. A great serpent encircles the pedestal upon which he stands and lifts its sleek head toward the god in obedience if not adoration, visually recalling the legendary staff he gifted his brother Hermes. Outside, dark clouds have been threatening to open up over Queens all day, panicking meteorologists and the odd New Yorker that takes that "flood watch" thing seriously. At her iron table, the other seat only just vacated by her company, Lily’s only acknowledgement of weather threat is a small collapsible umbrella sticking out of her backpack at her feet. She’s dressed much as she would be for work, in a navy button down dotted with small white-lined birds tucked into dark jeans, chelsea boots, a hunter-green blazer instead of white medical coat. Her hair is buzzed down to a close dark fuzz over her scalp, but otherwise her face is easily recognizable. Lily’s nursing the last vestiges of her coffee, hands wrapped around the elegant mug as she tilts her chin up to look at that grand window. Gaétan is looking down at his phone as he enters, swiping out a quick text. He's in jeans, green softshell jacket over his grey henley and a large bow case slung over one shoulder. He's got a warm smile for the barista and was heading towards the counter, but his steps slow as he catches sight of Lily. He's staring, for a moment, his brows pulling together. It takes a moment for him to pull his eyes away from Lily, following her gaze towards the window with a small tightening of his jaw. "God of medicine, isn't he. And diseases. Think with all the truth, beauty, everything, sometimes people forget the arrows brought both." The coffee sloshes in the cup when Lily startles. She doesn’t look away from the window as she puts down the cup. "People remember the best stories. Music and daring deeds make for better stories than plague and death." She shrugs, eyes flicking to the serpent curled around the glass pedestal. "I associate medicine more strongly with his son." Now Lily looks away from Apollo, finally, and to Gaétan, eyes stuttering only a moment on the bow case. "You here to see your mom?" "Oh, yeah," Gaétan is offering with a tone of easy agreement, "glance at the news any day and it's pretty clear we love focusing on the positives." He's only giving a small frown at the question, his eyes darting back to Lily. "Are you here to see my mom?" Lily huffs with what could be, maybe, dark amusement, or could just be a push of air. "Saw her already. She mentioned one of her kids was coming around. Didn’t realize it would be so soon." She lifts the coffee back to her lips and empties the cup. "Didn’t think she was much for archery, but she's full of surprises." When she lowers the mug again, Lily's tilting her head towards the empty chair at her table. "Yeah, she is." In Gaétan's voice this is sounding mildly like a criticism. "I'm into archery, and she's into catching up. I didn't realize you'd --" But here he stops, scrutinizes Lily for a long moment. "-- I guess I hadn't really thought much about what you've been up to." He's pulling the chair out, unslinging his case from his shoulder so he can sit down. "How's human life going for you?" Lily’s brows furrow for half a second before smoothing out again. "It’s -- going, I suppose. I keep busy. I keep quiet." She rotates the coffee cup once more on its saucer before folding her hands in her lap. "Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask the same question — your mom updated me on the big beats. She’s very proud of you." Lily tilts her head. "Still. How are you holding up, out here, human again?" "She what -- how is it your business what --" It's not exactly surprised but it is a little exasperated; even if Gaétan is definitely Too Old now to be rolling his eyes at this flagrant mom-like behavior, the suggestion of eye rolling is in his voice all the same. "I don't know what there is to be proud of. Been keeping busy. Keeping quiet." He shrugs a shoulder, a little stiffly. "Dropped out of school. Went back to school somewhere nobody knows me. You have a weird idea of quiet." He's glancing up at Lily, and then back over to Apollo radiant and colorful on the wall. "From what I hear you've been just running back into danger." Lily's brows knit together again for a moment before, "-- Harm said, hm?" Lily’s mouth pushes to the side in what is almost — but not quite — a crooked smile. "It feels quiet, when I’m here. I went back to work somewhere almost nobody knows me. Don’t have to deal with media. Don’t have to breathe lies. Can actually —" Her mouth twists, here, downwards, "— try to do no harm." Her eyes are tracking not to Apollo but to Gaétan’s arms, then away. "Nah, Mirror and I are like," Gaétan holds up his first two fingers crossed tight, then drops his hand back to the table. His jaw tightens. "What does that even mean? In medicine. In the world. Chemotherapy nearly killed Matt several times. Luci's seizure meds will probably destroy his liver. Sometimes in order to make an omelette you have to torture a few kids." His hands turn up in front of him. "Maybe that's just the cost of doing good." Lily tenses through her shoulders. "Most medical school oaths don’t include that phrase," she admits. "Medical ethics are fraught even for doctors who aren’t —" Her jaw works, swallowing away that sentence before it can finish. "What do you want me to say? That it was worth it? That it wasn’t? That call was made long before you ended up in my roster. There are other people you can ask about that decision." Though her voice stays quiet there’s an edge to Lily’s tone, tense and pointed but not, somehow, at Gaétan. "If you want apologies for what I put you through, for not realizing who you were, I will gladly give them." "Wasn't a criticism." Gaétan drops his hands back to the table, studying Lily thoughtfully. "And I don't want an apology." Though here his brows are lifting, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly up. "-- although now I'm kind of wondering, If I was someone else would putting me through that be fine?" It seems like a rhetorical question, though, because he's continuing on straightaway with a small and curious tilt of head. "Who would I ask about that?" "If you were anyone else, I’d feel less stupid for not calling home earlier." Not exactly an answer to Gaétan’s question, rhetorical or not, but it’s linking quickly and directly to, "Lucien." Now Lily's brows are knitting together and staying furrowed. "Did he never —" Her jaw works, now. "He’s the one who asked me to go in. For the documentary." "Do you know a lot of Tessiers?" is Gaétan's first question, skeptical but too wry to sound particularly accusatory. His brows pinch inwards after this, though. There's a beat of silence. His finger taps lightly against the table. "How did he even get you into Prometheus?" "I'm not sure." A note of apology is creeping into Lily's tone. "I sent some emails, with him b-c-c'd. A few weeks later I was moving to Ohio to start an early residency. I knew he had pull when he got me back into med school, but --" Lily looks into her empty cup, and seems ever so slightly disappointed to see it empty. "How he did either, I don't know." Gaétan's huh is kind of quiet, kind of bland. The furrow of his brow is smoothing back out, though the tap of his finger is growing a little faster and a little harder. "He's always been pretty good at talking to people but that's kind of next level." It's hard to say whether or not Gaé considers this a compliment. He's glancing over at the counter -- he never actually ordered anything (and certainly hasn't paid), but there is a barista slipping around to bring him a pair of teas anyway. His thanks is warm, and drops again back into something more impassive as the woman heads back. There's another brief twitch at the corner of his mouth, and he hitches a shoulder up as he gets back to his feet. "-- guess if he talked you into all that you've got some idea how he is." "Some idea," Lily echoes. She watches the barista come and go, not yet moving to stand when Gaétan does. She does reach for her bag and put it in her lap. "Your family tends to leave me with more questions than answers." Gaétan huffs softly, though it's not quite a laugh. "Guess that's why you fit in, Dr. Human Spy." He's pulling his wallet out as he shoulders his bow case again, extracting -- probably several times what his pair of drinks actually cost to tuck it just under the napkin holder for a tip. "-- somewhere in the back of my head I assume all Mormons have had to learn archery but if you haven't -- it's got the satisfaction of shooting without the --" His mouth twists briefly to the side. "You know. Shooting. Range isn't far if you want to come." Lily doesn't laugh but her mouth pushes to the side again, another almost-smile. At Gaétan's offer, she looks up once more at the god of archery and his golden arrows, considering them for a moment. "--For a little bit, that would be nice. It's been years since I held a bow." After another moment she stands, slinging her bag across her shoulders before looking expectantly to Gaétan, ready to follow. "You'll have to re-teach me the basics." "S'cool." Gaétan is waving goodbye to the barista and picking up the teas. "I have a feeling you're a quick study." | |
