ArchivedLogs:Biteling

From X-Men: rEvolution
Jump to navigationJump to search
The printable version is no longer supported and may have rendering errors. Please update your browser bookmarks and please use the default browser print function instead.
Biteling
Dramatis Personae

Ion, Kay, Frittata

2015-01-19


cronch

Location

<BOM> The Allspark - Ascension Island


Small and compact in the manner of most cabins on the island, this place is solidly built. Hardwood floors, sturdy log-wood walls, fireplaces in every room. It consists of a small sitting room, a bathroom with claw-footed tub, and two small bedrooms.

The furnishing in here is eclectic, to say the least; it looks somewhat as though it has been scavenged piecemeal from what you might find if you did a google search for 'luxury home decor'. There's a plush dark sofa with a round marble-topped coffee table in front of it, a wrought-iron and red-glass side table beside it with a colourful Tiffany lamp on top. A full-sized tiger pelt as a throw-rug in front of the sofa. A large dark-brown leather recliner near the fireplace. Binding most of the room together, though, is the /scorch/ marks, floor and walls and furniture alike permanently rendered a little /crisped/ around the edges.

There is singing inside this cabin, today, Ion's gravelly-gruff bass deep and rough and backed by the fussy uneasy click-click-clicking of the monsterling in his arms. Eridani hasn't been sleeping well this weekend, isn't sleeping well /now/. Ion has the infant in his arms, held against thick fleece-lined flannel shirt, rocking the sort of cranky-flailing baby as wings and clawed hands both beat somewhat aimlessly against his shoulder and cheek. "-- este lindo nino se quiere dormir, cierra los ojitos, y los vuelve a abrir, yes you fucking do." Maybe that's not /exactly/ how the lullaby goes. A sort of hedgehog-shaped -- doll? Robot? is on a nearby table, warm and full of blood, though Eridani hasn't seemed inclined just at this exact moment to feed from it. Just fuss. Fuss fuss fuss.

Kay's sleep schedule is BORKED for the day; volunteering for night shift patrol duty always sounds fun until you want to also be up and about during the DAY. So he's taking the day by sporatic NAP STORM, wearing no pants and an old Harvey Mandel t-shirt on his coat-hanger sharp shoulders, he flumps crossedarmed and sleepy-grinning against the entryway of his bedroom (considerably darker and more stained after a TINY midnight housefire last month) yawning and scrubbing at his invisible-blond chin stubble. "Try puttin' 'em in the oven?" he offers - while... well, just extending his arms. Apparently HE is the oven. "Tell me that's how your ma sang it."

"{Ey-o, my mama, she was a real classy lady.}" Ion hisses quietly as tiny needle-talons catch against his neck. "{She only did the cursing in Spanish, none of this switching-about shit.}" He grimaces slighlty, /prying/ Eridani out of his skin to attach the hatchling to cling to Kay instead. "We can't be /cooking/ this Egg, yo, maybe just a. Slow simmer." The backs of his fingers wipe one small pinprick of blood off the side of his neck, smudging it away onto his jeans and moving to rearrange the blankets in the (/rather/ more sturdy than most) crib Dusk brought with him over the weekend.

"{French, for my ma.}" Kay's French is ROUGH with informality, dropping off into... equally rough, but more comfortable spanish, "{/All/ the swearing. Chriiisto.}" Kay slings a pragmatic towel over his shoulder, scooping hearthside-warm wiry arms around the tiny-needly-scratching bundle of horrors. Pretty absentmindedly. Semi-grimacing but otherwise trying to aid in whatever position his passenger might seem inclined towards. "Hah, char-broiled coming right up. Not really sure how we'd ever be able to tell if the Biter got a fever - or what temperature'd exactly start scrambling all these /delicious eggs/, huh?" He's asking Eridani this - while curling spindly-long fingers around the eggling's head and slow-churning the SKULLFLESH.

Clickclickclick, clickclickclick, Eridani's crying isn't really /crying/, just a sort of growly-chittering as their wings flutter-bat in uncoordinated spasm to finally latch claws against the towel. Their head turns, teeth baring in smallbite. Chompclack. Sort of in the direction of Kay's arm, vaguely, as Kay's fingers curl against their head.

"{... for my ma,}" Ion is sort of muttering this French in a very mangled guttural-Argentine-flavored echo, brows knitting before he drops back into easier Spanish. "{This little one, he gonna be cursing in so many different languages, huh? We got a million on this rock. Dusk, he says hatchlings can sign way before talking too. Maybe he'll grow up with filthy hands.}" He frowns at the continued clicking, moving over to scoop the blood-doll back up. "Only just try to feed you huh? Then you don't want. Maybe you want from Kay yeah, heat-it-up warmer." He foists the squishy hedghehog with its skin-like belly off onto Kay. Yum. "Not sure how we tell many thing. No doctors ever had a tiny-gargoyle before. Hard to know. What's-a healthy. What's-a sick." He's shrugging, kind-of-casual, but there's still a note of worry in his frown as he watches Eridani's fidgety-clicking.

Kay takes the back of the hedgehog in his TEETH, using it to nudge-bump gentle-harass that soft hedgey underbelly up against Eri's face. It frees up one hand to pragmatically hitch back the seat of whatever diaper amalgam they might be utilizing with his thumb to check for NEW DEPOSITS. "Who knows," his (hedgehog-muffled) ratchety tenor is maybe SLIGHTLY less raw these days; cutting back on smoking to avoid smothering tiny lungs with cigarette smell, "Unless the BiteStuff here's got another voice coming in, gonna probs be signing from here out. Filthy," hedgehog-boop, "FILTHY," hedgehog-nuzzle, "lil palms, have t'wash 'em out with /soap/, huh?" Which you're... probably supposed to do.

Recently changed and still-clean cloth diaper; that, at least, isn't the current source of fussiness. There's a moment of uncertainty where Eridani is still gnashing teeth after Kay's arm /and/ butting their head up against the hedgehog at the same time. Oh no. Too many bloods. What do. But then they have a FACEfull of skin and their teeth sink in; one wing flops down to curl against Kay's face, latching on to hold the blood-bottle close as they start jawing at it to feed.

"I don't know maybe we teach them that, what's that, that code?" Ion is tapping out S-O-S in Morse code on the table. "Spy-Egg. Click click. -- wait, we supposed to wash /our/ mouths out with soap, I ain't doing that shit. My ma used chilies, all it do was give us a taste for /hot/ foods."

"/Hah/-ha," Kay laughs like a PIRATE mid-swordfight, giving the hedgehog one last very light worrying at with his teeth, just to make sure his fangly luggage has got a good and proper BITE on, "We got attachment, bro." And then he's just trying keep his EYES from getting gouged out, trying to delicately untangle wing from his FACE to latch more securely around its delicious hedgehog victim. He grins, warmer, at Ion's tapping finger, blinking out of it after a second, "What, /morse/? Fuck, man. We ever get this winged monster in the air, we're gonna have t'change this name to fucken 007." There's a pause, watching CHEWBITE feeding, that bright-hard grin also - kind of faltering. He settles into a seat, hairy legs and baggy boxer briefs (PROBABLY WITH FLAMES ON) tossed up on the arm rest.

"{Fff, thank God, I was starting to think he was just going to cry all day. Though maybe then he'd sleep all night?}" For a moment Ion looks hopeful at that. Just a moment. He ambles back into his own bedroom, returning with a box of Lucky Charms, collapsing onto the floor with it to thud his head back against the couch by Kay. Grab a /fistful/ of cereal, crunch some down, offer some up in the general direction of Kay's face. "He be in the air sooner than later maybe. Dusk he make teeny-tiny harness. Don't know how long though before those wings be enough to get their /own/ lift-off. Then he be a fucking /terror/." He says this with /pride/.

"Think 'e likes when his prey /wriggles/," Kay cranes his neck around to eat off Ion's palm like a HORSE. Cronchcronch. "Though you gotta wonder what'll happen 'e ever eats off /papa's/ blood." Oh shit, some of the cereal falls off the side of his mouth, plinking off the top of Eri's head. Kay doesn't seem concerned save to brush it off. GOOD AS NEW. "That shit gets you /jacked/, and Huevos here amps up off even off the /Lite/ shit. Might be flying /tomorrow/, yo." After another (cereal-cronching) pause, "Probably gonna have'ta tell Jax sorry sometime soon."

"{Born monster.}" Ion chucks a sugar-dusted finger against one long clawed foot, dipping his hand back into the box after to fish out more marshmallows. "{Put some of Dusk's blood in him we're gonna have ourselves a /weaponized/ baby.}" He rolls his head back against the base of the couch to squint up towards Kay. "{Sorry?} What sorry? {What'd you do to the Firefly?}"

Kay's 'resting' temperature is the warmth of a ray of sun streaming through a window; Ion's gonna BAKE in that sweater. "Eh, {I chewed out his husband}. Not real sorry f'that, but chewed'm out off-topic after a while. Kinda /thins out/ a good chewing if y'just spraying 'n praying." Headbonk on Ion's shoulder. Headbonk FEED ME. Littlebirdy mouth open!

"I like that flatscan," Ion muses, turning around so that he can start /tossing/ cereal-bits at Kay's open mouth. They don't all make it. Maybe boink off a cheek. His nose. Eridani's horn-nub. But many of them do! "I seen him yesterday in-church. Look so damnmuch better, huh? The week before, and the week-before-that, glitterbug he look halfway to fucking /dead/. Almost," he's kind of gruff-cooing this together with wiggling one of Eridani's long sharp talon-toes as the infant feeds, "like he got some-small-vampire suck-out his life. Almost. Maybe I chew-out a little, them, too. I forget. I yelled."

Dutifully mouth OPEN, Kay keeps one of his eyes squinched shut to protect it from cerealBombs dinking off his face. "Not a lotta people you don't like - /ulk/," that tidbit made it RIGHT down his throat. Koff. Okay, he's good. "I got my own - ehhh, s'not really here or there." He chews... which means he possibly coughed up that bit of cereal, and is now placidly going to eat it the /right/ way. One hand vaguely cupped around the side of Eridani's face to shield delicate monstereyes. "If everyone's lookin' better, s'all really matters." THOUGH, almost dubious sideeye, "What'd /you/ chew'm for?"

Eridani's jawing is growing more languid, not feeding so intently anymore and just kind of messily nuzzle-lipping at the skin of the hedgehog with a quieter purring click. Their tail curls out around Kay's wrist, wingclaw scritching absently at the side of their hedgie.

"{Pennsatucky, can't stand that bitch.}" Ion flicks a clover-shaped marshmallow at Kay's face. Ploink. "Be fucking stupid, right? {Always trying to save the whole fucking world, forget how fucking much family's around. Like nobody's going to have their backs, what, Sunshine just going to run himself to death? Fuck that shit. Swear to god, I know they have all their fancy college and shit but sometimes I'm pretty sure those white boys are dumb as rocks.} Worked itself out now though huh?"

For a moment fascinated, Kay turns over his wrist -- tattooed, scarred, tanned -- to watch the tail slide around it, the side of his mouth quirking up. He runs his thumb over it softly, chomping at the rogue clover marshmallow like an alligator. "Talk about bitches that remind me of my /ma/," the side of his nose snarls up a little, grin-chewing with his mouth open. The snarl evens out, still generally bemusedly watching Eridani's post-meal explorations. "Kheh. Some people just been down so long they get used'ta scraping the bottom of the barrel. Get so tired y'can't see shit if it ain't right in front of ya." All said pretty casually, "Problem I had was-. Meh."

Ion just hisses out a sharp breath, sharp /laugh/, head shaking at the thought of Ma-Pennsatucky. He finally wriggles out of his flannel, tugging a little at the undershirt beneath it like he needs some air. "Yeah-well. S'what we for, right? Help boost a brother back /up/. See things again when the world just gone a /leetle/-too-black." He leans back, palms braced on the floor, head tipped up to lift brows questioningly to Kay whenthis sentence trails off. "What's-at, huh?"

"Eh," Kay makes that half-snarl grin again; maybe he has a kernel of corn stuck in his teeth. He does SUCK at them for a moment, "I dunno if it's even got a lot t'do with him being human. I mean... Mel's alright, yeah? And let their fucking flatscan doctors /cut open my head/, I can deal if it's /worth/ dealing." He carefully reaches over the little bundle of wingsails and horns with his free hand to help Ion tug loose from his clothes. "S'just always weird; I gone into fucking /gun fights/ alongside that guy. And people call him family, plenty, sure. But he ain't never treated /me/ like family. Never'd even paused to look me in the eye if I didn't intercept 'im; even /after/ he knew you'n me were takin' in FanglyFace." He does continue to gentle-touch Eridani's body; acclimating /himself/ as much as he is the Eggling, "--Pff. I dunno. I'm happy enough a flatscan looks right through me, if I'm not being /shot/ that day. But Ion, if I ever find out he overlooks Jax or the pups that way..." His teeth click like WELP.

"/Huh/." Ion's fingers drum against the floor behind him. He sucks his lower lip in between his teeth, worrying at a stray flap of chapped skin. "Huh." This is quieter, low and pensive. Another drumroll of fingers. "S'fucked up," he decides, ultimately, brows knitting together. "{Don't know what's up with that. Me and him, we've always been --}" He lifts a hand, his first two fingers crossed together. "{Fucking weird. People are fucking weird, eh? But eggling, the pups, Sunshine. They're /always/ gonna have family. We all of us will.}"

Watching Ion's face for a little while, Kay's attention soon enough drifts back to Eridani instead. You'd think he was IGNORING Ion for the bemused-distracted grin he begins to form - save that he responds without hesitation, speaking absently down to the little horned gray face, "Damn straight."