ArchivedLogs:Ambitious
| Ambitious | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2016-06-24 "No zombies here. Nobody here at all that we don't want to be." |
| Location
<NYC> BoM Safehouse - Lower East Side | |
Tucked away off a little-used side street in the Lower East Side, sandwiched between a youth drop-in center and a taqueria, this narrow three-story townhouse has very little to catch the eye. Boarded-up windows, a door peeling its paint, shabby grubby brickface; from the outside it does not look like much. Inside someone has gone to great lengths to renovate the building into something more habitable. It isn't glamorous but it is comfortable, old furniture dragged in, the place generally swept clean. The first floor holds a large living room, a smaller dining room, a spacious kitchen, a half-bathroom. There are three bedrooms and a full bathroom on the second floor; the attic is just a large empty space crammed full of boxes with a window out to the large flat roof. The basement, much like the attic, consists of a lot of empty space. A bare concrete floor, no windows, occasional poles running up to the ceiling. A tiny half-bathroom down here, too. Not a whole lot else. The brilliant day has faded into a balmy evening, and the city is coming to life again with the beginnings of summer weekend revelry. Isra ducks through the door with her wings mantled close. She wears a bright green wrap dress with ornate black-and-gold trim which does not altogether conceal the black sports bra and bike shorts she wears beneath. Her skin this week looks, for the most part, almost like its natural slate gray, but with a pearly nacre that shifts colors with the changing light. Her wings remain as they have been, matte black with vines of bright iridescent silver to match her horns and claws. Her smooth, gliding steps do not betray the heavy load she carries: bulging canvas bags under each arm and a leather harness across her chest from which protrudes a goblinesque head with bulging but half-lidded green eyes, ears so long they flop over, and tiny blunt nubs of horns. "{Good evening, Sophia, Shadow.}" A teenaged Latina sits on the floor in the living room wearing an aqua sundress several sizes too large, her long black hair tied back in a messy up-do. A pile of brightly painted wooden blocks lie on the floor between her and a blob of darkness in the rough shape of a child perhaps six or seven years old, wearing only a yellow-and-pink floral wrap skirt. Both of them look up when the door opens. "{Hi,}" says the older girl. Shadow only waves. Dusk is trailing behind Isra, a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his silver-veined red and black wings draped down low behind him. He is dressed only in black running shorts, Vans sneakers. He pauses by the door, teeth pressing down against his lower lip as his wings shift against his back. There's only a faint delay before a quick smile touches his lips, scruffy chin lifting. "Yo. {What you building?}" Isra deposits her canvas bags on the coffee table, drags a folded-up toddler chair out of the coat closet, and unfolds it. Egg frees their arms and wings from the confines of the leather harness they have almost outgrown and signs 'I want play I want.' Isra places them in the seat, their scrawny legs protruding from the underside of the chair, claws scrabbling on the floor as they wheel toward the pile of blocks. "{An ancient Egyptian tomb}" Sophia replies very seriously, "{or so Shadow tells me.}" A rhythmic sussurrus passes for Shadow's laugh. The edges of their form become sharper, their features more solid, and finally they gather their voice into a hoarse whisper, "{The royal tomb of Akhenaten in Amarna.}" They pick up a triangular red block and offer it to Egg. Dusk's smile softens, wings tightening at his back with a small twitch of claws at the sound of Shadow's voice. "{Ambitious. From memory? Are actual mummies going to be in it?}" this question comes with a small tilt of his head, one eye squinting up as he looks at the blocks. "{Because that would be both cool and a little unnerving.}" Isra's smile is sharp, crooked, just a small glimpse of fang. She begins unpacking first aid supplies from one of the canvas bags. "{I suspect Egg might not make the best architect's assistant.}" Even as she speaks, the winged child has opened their toothy maw wide to chew on the block in their hands. Sophia laughs as she builds up from the somewhat scattered-looking foundation, choosing her blocks carefully. "{No mummies.../yet./}" Shadow had started to become blurry, but now sharpens up again, "{No one knows where the mummies went. Maybe they were stolen. Or maybe they /left./}" Then, tilting their head at Egg. "{It's alright, that one goes on last. When are you going to teach them to fly?}" "{Give them time. They're bound to pick something up from Hive eventually.}" Dusk is heading into the kitchen -- for a moment, at least, to drop his duffel bag on the counter before returning to the doorway. One of his wings flexes. Not, admittedly, very far before it hits the doorframe and pulls back in. "{Working on it. They're definitely /eager/ to learn. -- Left? Are you insinuating that there could be undead /royalty/ roaming around right now? That sounds totally ridiculous, yo. Some kind of fantastical nonsense right there.}" Egg had been clicking contently as they chew on the block, but now their eyes open wide, their hands flailing. 'Fly fly fly I fly!' The signing is so vigorous that it looks as if they are trying to lift off just using the motion of the words themselves. Their wings shake out, also, flexing to cup the air. Isra smiles wider, her ears pressing back as she watches the two older children build the tomb and Egg attempt to fly. "{Quite a lot of ambition in here tonight. Do you suppose Akhenaten and Nefertiti might drop by to visit their recreated home?}" Sophia's dark eyes open wide, and the blue cube in her hand crumbles to ashes. She yips and drops its remnants, leaning back away from the other two children. Shadow does not look nearly so disturbed, though their form goes instantly insubstantial again. 'It's okay,' they sign, 'no zombies here.' Dusk slips out of the doorway, moving over to Egg's side to scoop them up into the air. Hold them overhead. "You're getting there." There's another twitch to his thumbclaws as he watches the child's form shift. "No," his agreement comes readily. "No zombies here. Nobody here at all that we don't want to be." | |
