ArchivedLogs:All God's Children

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All God's Children
Dramatis Personae

Kay, Rasputin, Thing One, Thing Two




<NYC> The Sublime Center - East Village

The clean lit sign for the Sublime Center is in sharp contrast to its actual accommodations. Large tinted windows are covered with the residue of a thousand posters, flyers, and advertisements a hundred times removed and replaced to the point that it defies a window washer's efforts thoroughly. Inside the office is divided by several mismatched cubicles and similarly diverse office furniture ranging in quality from flat-packed to 20 year old donations, and each desk seems to have a personal touch of family pictures, potted plants, or other knick knacks that would be out of place in a more corporate setting.

Huge bulletin boards are covered in business cards, brochures, meeting agendas and sign ups, and campaign posters advocating mutant rights and equality with various high handed slogans such as 'My Genetics do not Define Me', to a picture of a multicultural set of children, one of which is green skinned.

A meeting room is off to the side with a dozen chairs in a dozen different styles, and a reception desk is manned by overworked volunteers at nearly all hours.

It's midafternoon and as a result not overly bustling in here. There are a pair of young women from the Lofts sitting at the desk of one of the social workers towards the back, and a meeting of some sort in the adjacent conference room, sparsely populated with a handful of people sitting in the circled chairs. The twins are just entering, bundled up snug against the cold in nearly identical peacoats (one is a slightly /lighter/ shade of grey), jeans, boots, hats.

A short conversation with the purple-haired young man staffing the reception desk leads them towards a bulletin board. One twin pulls a sheet of paper from his backpack to thumbtack it up in a vaguely free patch of corkboard, set between a ROOMMATE WANTED flyer and one advertising a biweekly knitting curcle. The twins' flyer is a MISSING poster, a photograph of Horus perched on the roof wall of the Lofts in its center.

Outside the center, the muffled putt-putt-putt of a beat up old Vespa rides up to the curb and, shortly, shuts off. The door shoulders open by Kay; gone are black leather and chains, replaced with red and black /flannel/ worn beneath a black ski jacket, his lanky hair shoved up under a floppy brown urchin hat and a pair of rather nice Armani sunglasses. His clunky hiking boots stamp on the mat, shifting his sturdy leather messenger bag around the side of his hip, informing the... bag, "Last one we'll hit today." Pat.

"How long's it been now?" His raspy tenor emerges behind either twin, eyes settled on the board.

SUDDENLY, opening the flap of the bag, is Rasputin-kitty, poking hir head out! "Sounds good!". Eying the twins, and then their poster, Rasputin's face turns into a frown, as ze speaks up. "No one's found him yet? I haven't gotten any reports from my inside network of birds and hobos, apologies.". This isn't a joke, Rasputin's actually been having hobos and birds keeping an eye out for Horus. "How you guys holding up?"

Thing One whirls sharply, eyes widening at the voice coming up from behind him and his posture reflexively tensing.

Thing Two tenses, too, though his low growl comes before he actually turns. It fades away with a slow breath inward, taking in Kay's scent more than his mostly-covered-up appearance.

"Two months," Thing One answers with a dip of his head. "A little more. Haven't /seen/ him since pretty much right when the --"

"-- zombies were starting. He tweeted," Thing Two says with a small frown.

"A couple times when things were starting to --"

"-- get ugly, but. Then that was --"

"-- silent too." Thing One's frown is matching his brother's, now. "And the last one wasn't really. Very hopeful either."

"You have an inside network of birds and hobos?" Thing Two peers curiously at Rasputin.

The question of how they're holding up just makes Thing One's eyes lock on the ground. He edges a little closer to his twin, who slips an arm around his shoulders. "S'been --"

"-- a /week/," says Thing Two with a shaky laugh. "What's -- um. Up."

"Doin' patrols." Kay is smiling at the picture of Horas, extending a fist to touch knuckles briefly against the photo. A 'dap' through space and time - though the hand remains resting there for a moment longer before falling away. "Stopping by a few centers. Checking boards. All this shit; stirring up old shit. Mutants speaking out against one thing..." He's looking over the thick layer of /new/ flyers overlaying the faded old ones. Calls for a union labor force, support groups. "...waking up mutants that they can /speak/." He adjusts the flap on the carrying bag to give Rasputin more room to peer out. "A week, man. Feels like longer, doesn't it? Any word on how they're doing?"

"All over NYC. Okay, it's actually a couple hobos I became friends with whilst homeless and any bird I come across whilst in bird form, but, close enough, right?". Rasputin replies with a short grin that quickly fades away. "This Sublime stuff is really cool though. I can come here, /talk/, and some people won't get freaked out at all!". Rasputin's grin comes back again before fading again at the subject matter. "I hope they're alright in there. They don't treat people charged like this..very well, most of the time."

"Mutants have been speaking out a long time," Thing Two says, very quietly.

His twin leans into his side, eyes closing. "Long time," he agrees, "the only difference now is a few more people are listening."

There's a faint shifting of the knit fabric of scarf against Thing Two's neck. "They're --" He shrugs, twitchily.

"Alive," answers Thing One. "Nearly weren't. Almost starved them /both/ to death before --"

"They're getting fed /now/ though," Thing Two hastily assures. "But past that I don't really know. They've seen a doctor but their --"

"-- lawyers haven't been allowed contact yet." Thing One's words are laced with a quiet edge of -- almost a growl, though unhappy-small it's closer to a whine.

His twin puts on a quicker smile, small and tense and fading soon as he agrees abruptly: "Yeah, it's neat. They helped /find/ Pa and Dusk lawyers and --"

"-- helping us find some, too, cuz half our building's getting evicted. I guess they do other stuff," says Thing One with a small shrug, "but that's been kind of a relief already."

"Don't gotta tell /them/ that, dude," Kay says with a grim smile, thumping knuckles - lightly - against the top of Rasputin's little kittyskull for bringing up likely prison treatment. And he has a bitter /laugh/ at hearing about their treatment, a few tendons twisting visible in the sides of his neck, teeth snarling. It's a kind of unstable look. "Yeah. Sounds about right." He bends leans over, slowly. His chin hovering over the point where the twin's shoulders are touching, and cups a warm hand to the side of either boy's head. "Shanester," his head tips in Thing One's direction, then tips in Thing Two's, "B-man. Haven't really said jack shit about how /you're/ doing, though, huh?" Like it's SECRET. Or like he's whispering them their /cue/.

"Wait how can you tell who is who are you a /telepath/." Rasputin's eyes widen at Kay, pretty much ignoring the skullbump. Rasputin grins, tail swaying inside the bag, probably hitting it into Kay. "Well atleast they're /not/ dead. Hopefully this will all get cleared up soon and they'll be released, though.". Rasputin says this with a hopeful voice, but hir face doesn't believe it. Then Rasputin's turning back to Kay, eyes widened again. "If you're a telepath, read my thoughts. WHAT AM I THINKING OF?". Rasputin grins, trying to change the subject to a cheerier one and avoid horrible sadness, even if ze doesn't actually believe Kay is a telepath. "TRY IT."

There's a quick flick of look exchanged between the twins, a very subtle tightening of Thing Two's hand at his twin's shoulder.

"S'because he's the prettiest one," One says with a light bonk of head against shoulder.

Sebastian blushes at this, looking down at his boots. He presses his head very slightly in against Kay's over-warm touch with a sudden shaky breath at its heat. "I mean, we're --" His teeth scrape against his lower lip. "It's been -- a little chaotic."

Shane shrugs jerkily. "... miss them," is what he says, a very /small/ voice that matches his diminutive stature more neatly than his usual habitual bluster does.

"But we're -- people are working. Hard. We'll get them back," Sebastian says firmly.

Shane manages a crooked half-smile at this. "You're thinking of coming to get tacos with us is what you're thinking of. Just stuffed with huge amounts of chicken." He thwaps a hand lightly against Sebastian's side. "B'll buy, he's rich."

"Yeah," Kay mooshes both blue heads in against the sides of his head. Lightbonk. It's radiant with warmth; a dry heat smelling faintly of char and brimstone. "It's a thing. Just remember - you kids aren't /alone/." He releases the kids to lean back onto his heels, grinning fiercely down at Rasputin, "You're thinking you want a god damn /taco/, gato. We sure as hell don't say no to free food." The feeling of soft-thumping tail in the bag inspires him to fish a hand down under the bag's flap to chase after it with a hand. /Capture the tail/. Or maybe just rump-scritch. He looks back towards Sebastian, "--so where's a little blue thang like you get rich from, huh?"

Rasputin's eyes dart up at TACOS. "Woah, you're a telepath too! SO MANY TELEPATHS.". When Kay puts his hand in the bag, Rasputin's tail begins whacking it as best as it can. "Turning down free food is like the dumbest move ever. What type of tacos are we talking about? Food truck? JAPANESE STYLE? TEX-MEX?". Apparently tacos drive Rasputin insane, because hir eyes are darting between the twins over to Sebastian. "Oh god you better not be a hooker I think you're a bit young for that"

"Ohgosh." Sebastian's flush darkens abruptly at Rasputin's question; this time it's /him/ who turns his face in against Shane's shoulder.

"Hell no, he's just a crazy fucking genius, he builds robots for Stark," Shane explains.

Sebastian hooks his arm through Shane's, starting to /drag/ his twin towards the door with a quickly offered thanks to the receptionist before: "/Tacos/. We are getting the --"

"/taco-y-est/ kind of tacos," Shane replies. "But Kay you gotta take the money and get them for us I don't actually know any taquerias that let us in and I have a /craving/." He holds the door open for the others. Eager. Because /tacos/ lie beyond it.

Engaging in tail-battle, Kay bat-bat-swats Rasputin's around in the bag, not otherwise seeming to notice it's happening. He swivels his hip in a kind of /sashaying/ about-face, falling in behind the twins, "Man I shouldn't even be surprised. A-1 battleshark /and/ a super-genius. Christ you kids are gonna make us old folk look bad. I can't even do fucking long division. I'll be /so/ human for you. Though man, you sure you wanna give them money? Could also just hold up a fucking taco shop - taco by /force/. Firebomb 'em off the map, they don't wanna taco /all/ of God's little children." He falls in with them, heading for the door, kittyRasp in tow.

Engaged in tail battle, Rasputin bats the tail back at Kay hand, FULL FORCE. WILL WIN. "Could just. Toss messenger bag in. Messenger bag is ACTUALLY CAT. I can say in my best Morgan Freeman impression, which is basically just Morgan Freeman, THIS IS A ROBBERY. They give us all the tacos. We eat.". Rasputin's gleefully grinning at this, like, actually something ze wants to try. "Stark? So, you build deathbots for the richest guy in NYC? Coolest job ever.".

"They aren't deathbots, ohgosh. I actually have a few -- /totally/ not deathy -- drones out searching for Horus but." Sebastian wrinkles his nose with an unhappy expression that tells how successful /that/ has been.

Shane actually manages a /laugh/, at both Kay and Rasputin's suggestions. But he shakes his head no. "Man, I just want some fucking chicken, harder to eat once the cops start shooting at you. Just buy tacos. No robbing them."

"Not today, anyway," Sebastian carols in quietly amused addition, as they head out the door.