ArchivedLogs:Comforting

Comforting
Noxkitty! Just sayin'.
Dramatis Personae Nox, Micah	23 May 2013 Nox and Micah meet up after the fightclub rescue.
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
Living in the heart of Manhattan means space is precious, and as such, the yard behind this house is small. It is as exquisitely well-kept as the rest of the place, though; all available space has been meticulously cultivated and transformed into a lush retreat from the concrete and asphalt of the city. The borders of the garden are lined in a wealth of flowers, the selection chosen to provide a panoply of color in all seasons save winter. A grassy rock-lined pathway separates these from the raised-bed vegetable garden that dominates its center. The far left corner of the garden plays host to a tiny rock-lined pond, goldfish and a pair of turtles living in its burbling water. To one side of the pond is a garden table and set of chairs and presiding over the pond, a large oak tree with a hammock underneath, its branches spreading out over the tall brick wall that screens the entire area off from the city outside. It was no easy thing to pry Nox loose from her small, safe, dark place. She’s always struggled with maintaining a corporeal form, and being trapped in one against her will for weeks makes it all the more difficult. Somehow Lucien has succeeded though. Night has fallen and with it, a Micah! Or so she’s been told. Given the option of returning to the cool and simple sleep of being just a shadow, or meeting her friend, she’s opted for the latter. The door into the kitchen swings open. Just a little, just enough of a crack for the woman to slip through. Except she isn’t a woman tonight but a tiny black cat streaked with harsh white stripes. They lattice her body in a way no tabby’s proper markings could, and she can’t banish them--signs of her confinement, then. But she’s moving easily, fluidly, as she flows down the steps and onto the path to wander, tail up, in the direction of her visitor. Poor Lucien. He was likely the one who had to field the panic-stricken phone call from a Micah, who managed to misplace Nox in the rescue effort on Wednesday. He had been able to help her into and out of the evacuation van, but she did not seem to recognize him much at the time, for all her being…out of sorts. And Micah was occupied both with /driving/ and with getting a horde of injured and traumatized refugees into a free clinic. By the time he had a chance to look for her again, she had taken to hiding on Lucien’s person. Cue Micah having a 15 minute panic attack, worried about any number of increasingly unlikely scenarios, until a kind and observant soul clued him in to where she had fled. Despite the reassurances of the people at the clinic (and perhaps even Lucien on the phone), Micah still has a need to see Nox in person, when she is actually capable of /speaking/ to him. He probably drove over a little too quickly, the first chance he had after settling Jax and the twins back in at the Lofts. Now he is /bouncing/ on the balls of his feet, waiting for a… “Nox! Ohgoshoghgosh!” You can practically hear him telling himself not to overwhelm her with excitement in his head. “Hi, hon. Are you…how are you holdin’ up?” Nox certainly appears to recognize Micah now. She passes by the Jimtree planted in the rich, dark soil--the only tree in the garden decorated with a kilt because mentree have modesty, apparently?--with a cheek-rub, a shoulder and flank bump, before venturing on towards Micah. The advantage of this form is being able to angle herself up his bouncing feet, legs, chest and from there to his shoulder--all without the prick of claws or even the drag of weight. But there she is, curled small on his shoulder with her velvety head pressed against his cheek. All the better for him to hear the so faint whisper, “Micah I missed you. Lucien said you were worrying. I am sorry to have worried you.” This close, it’s easier to see her ink-drop eyes, too large in the apple of her face. She blinks solemnly up at him after the head-bop and if her tail is coiling around his throat, it is only with the gentlest of grips. He could swallow hard and shatter that shadow. “You are all right?” Micah is /sorely/ tempted to pull the Noxcat into his arms for entirely-too-tight snuggling, but she is obviously injured and painfully light… He settles for rubbing his cheek against the kitty-head that is pressed against him. His muscles had been so tightly knotted that it is an easy thing to feel them relax when she speaks. So much so, that he decides to settle in and sit right on the ground where he had been standing. “Oh, Nox-honey… I had missed you, too. I left all of these messages in the cooler over at the garden. Especially when things started gettin’ ready for harvestin’. An’ the notes never moved. An’ I never saw you. An’ then I realized I never saw anyone /else/, either. An’ the twins and their friend were missin’. I think…yeah…I think all I’ve done is worry an’ pretend /not/ to worry for a couple of weeks. But don’t apologise. None of this is even /close/ to bein’ your fault.” There is a little sniffling sound as Micah squeezes his eyes closed for a moment. Keep it together! “I am so sorry…for all of you. That somethin’ like this could even happen.” Nox resumes cheek-rubs as it all pours out of him. Her humming takes on a more sorrowful and introspective note, translated through his shoulder, through the loop of darkness coiled around his neck. The little sniffing sound brings a light, preemptive touch to his face, like fingertips brushing away tears that don’t exist yet--but when he opens his eyes there are no fingers. Just her eyes right there, looking sadly into his. “It was a terrible thing. But you helped free us,” she murmurs--and then pours herself down into his arms for whatever snuggling is deemed necessary. The white marks streaking her body have a different feeling than the rest of her, hard and satiny where her body is like a plush velvet doll. They don’t appear to cause her any pain though and she settles easily. Small tendrils of shadow lift to brush his bright hair back from his face. “Sometimes pretending helps.” Something between the hum and the touch and Nox’s own sad look makes a soft almost-whimper of a sound catch in Micah’s throat, and a bit too much shine show in his eyes. He blinks them a few times, collecting himself again. His fingers run over her flank, inspecting the terrible marks. “Are… I mean… I’m sure Lucien’s takin’ good care. But is there anythin’ you need? To help. Ohgosh, I don’t even know if regular doctorin’ is any good or if bein’ in the dark is the only help or what.” A weak, helpless sort of half-smile finds its way to his face, showing itself with the realization that he is a shade out of his depth much of the time anymore. It is a terrible, terrible thing: Nox can’t cry. She’s left to just blink solemnly up at Micah, now and then touching his cheeks again as if there were tears there to wipe away. “It is no good for me. Doctors,” she sighs. “I have no...no anything. As you do. Or Lucien. Or...anyone. But yes, Lucien takes good care. I have taken over his closet.” She pauses. “It is a very large closet. I have been...you would think of it as sleeping.” One tiny paw lifts and rests on Micah’s chin, a twist of concentration making this touch tangible, rather than weightless. “You can cry. If you need to, Micah. It is all right.” Micah just /watches/ those cat’s eyes as if they might disappear should he look away too long. He nods at the mention of little help from doctors. “I kinda thought…it might be like that. I couldn’t even hope to /classify/ your injuries if I had to.” His hand is still stroking gently at what form exists to her side. “Rest is good.” He pauses, tentative before asking the next question. “It doesn’t…hurt, does it?” His head is shaking at Nox’s reassurance. “No, I really can’t. Not…right now. It isn’t fair to all of you. I come close a couple of times, between all of… But…no… Y’all have had some of the worst of what the world has to offer an’ this ain’t about me right now. Y’don’t need to be comfortin’ /me/.” Another weak sort of smile is sent Nox’s way. “I’ll deal with my own little meltdown later, when it’s convenient.” That paw shifts. Now, as he’s arguing, it settles over this barely curved lips. Bap. “Not in a way I can explain.” Nox is referring to the pain. Her answer is perhaps not as reassuring as he might like but it’s all she has--at least until it occurs to her to grow a little, pulling in shadows from the garden, from under the trees and Jim to add to her size, if not her mass. This way, she can curl actual arms around his neck and give Micah a hug that lingers long enough to be counted as cuddling. “You can cry for me,” she assures him softly. “I do not have tears and I wanted to cry. Often.” Oh! Nox-kitty paws are hopelessly adorable! Micah would be a Micah-puddle if he had it in his power to melt. “Is there anythin’ that makes it better?” He snugs Nox against his chest as tightly as her misty form will allow, when she moves to hug him. “Oh.” Micah bites at his lip when Nox speaks of being unable to cry, his eyes welling up at just how heartbreaking /that/ is, on top of everything else. “Oh. No. Honey. Now I feel like I’m bein’ even more unfair.” He hides his eyes as much as possible against a Nox-arm. Which really doesn’t do much for hiding since there is now /dampness/ there. “Quiet. Darkness. Being...not very human,” Nox is forced to confess. It isn’t a confession that sits comfortably with her, her voice fading to near inaudible levels by the end of it. But he’s near enough to hear it all. Every subsequent word is an equal effort. “That is...why. I suppose. They hated us. And I do not know why. Even the...even the labs. Had a purpose. But this...” It’s a line of thought that makes tears entirely reasonable. Nox lets her head dip towards his, shadow resting against bright hair. If she minds the dampness cooling her arm, she gives no sign of it, just holds him and lets herself be held. “Would…would you rather go back to bein’ more shadowy?” Micah asks, somewhat muffled, of her arm. “If it helps. I mean. I’m sorry. I was bein’ selfish. I just had to know you were okay /in person/ or…” Or what? Micah probably isn’t certain, himself. He shudders at Nox’s confused musing. “It’s…just the worst of people. I’m not sure it’s even worth /tryin’/ to understand. It’s…people not seein’ anyone who’s /different/ as people. It’s lynch mobs in the South an’ beatin’ up the gay kid. It’s blowin’ up folks for readin’ the wrong holy books. It’s hittin’ children who can’t defend themselves. It’s people who are willin’ to fight dogs and set stray cats on fire for fun. An’ I don’t know that it’ll ever be anythin’ more than the inexplicable horrors that people are capable of an’ I’m /so sorry/ any of you ever had to see it like that.” His breathing has gone a little ragged with the rapid spill of words. “But it’s not…it’s not everyone an’ it’s not everywhere an’ it’s not everythin’ an’ some of us love you, at least, okay?” “No. Not yet.” Nox punctuates this whisper with a little squeeze, energy channeled into strengthening her arms to allow it. “It is good to remember. The good things. There were so many of them. So many. All of my life, so many. But this is better.” She squeezes him again and gives a little hum, in lieu of a sigh. “It is not selfish. I would want the same. The...have you seen the children? My boy...there is a little boy. Green. Anole. He was with the twins. Mister Holland’s twins. Please...if you could? I cannot...I cannot be what I should. For him. For them. Right now.” That little squeeze seems to help. Micah stops the shuddery-breathing into Nox’s arm. He rests his head against what seems to be the most shoulderlike spot near Nox’s arm, no longer hiding his face against her. His eyes are a little red and his face flushed as surely as if someone had set out to embarrass him horribly. /Everything/ really does make him turn red. “The one that I’d taken the video of? That stole that guy’s wallet in the park? He was with the twins in the van, yes. An’ went to the clinic. I’m not sure where anyone’s been goin’ from there. Jax is plannin’ to take Spencer and the twins an’ a pile of their school friends down to his folks’ place in Georgia over the weekend. If the twins got real attached to him, might be he’s goin’. Where would I find ‘im to check in, if not?” “If...Georgia? So far...” Nox shivers, the tension in her arms this time having more to do with anxiety than reassurance. “But. But yes...if he...if he would like. He may go. If not there...mm, I am not sure. He would...no, he would have to be with them. Marrow is at the clinic, and Masque...there is no one else who could take him home. Will you...could you find out for me? Please? I should not have...I was not a very good...I did poorly there.” “Yeah, s’where Jax’s from. He just…wanted to get the kids /away/ for awhile, y’know? Goin’ down by train tomorrow.” Micah’s hand traces down the tension of Nox’s arm, intending reassurance. “I can ask the twins. They were the last ones with ‘im, so they’re likely to know. That or the clinic. An’ I can have Iolaus keep an eye on the folks as are /at/ the clinic for you. Could…d’you think Lucien would mind me givin’ Io the number here? That’s probably the best way to keep you updated as frequently as possible. I’m…gonna be goin’ along with Jax’n the kids, so I won’t be much use past tomorrow, I’m afraid.” He looks a little sheepish, like he’s neglecting duties or something. “Hey… Hey, no. I’d be worried about anyone who did /well/ there. That was…horrible. You stayed alive through it, an’ that’s about all anybody /could/ do.” He actually lifts his head up to be able to look Nox in the eyes again. “Here? I...I think perhaps. I am not sure.” With anxiety comes a certain scattered effect. Nox meets his eyes but hers drift away with a mildly distracted air, less upset than just...drifting. “Lucien. Values his privacy. I think...if Anole would like to go. He may.” With distraction she begins to shrink again, drawing into more of a catshape--this one, at least, has some weight to it. The extra shadow is taken in instead of spread. “So many died. One, sometimes two a night. Will they find the bodies, do you think? There was one...a man. A young man. He tried to help me. I should have...killed them all. When he gave me the chance.” “Well, we can ask. Worst’ll happen is he’ll say no. An’…uh…we can buy you a prepaid phone to keep with you while you’re stayin’ here or somethin’, instead. There’s always options.” Micah nods sagely. Things. They will be taken care of. As soon as there is a catshape, his fingers rub between the little ears out of pure habit. “There’s a couple of PI’s that Mel knows, aside from Jim. Friends of his, actually, I think. I imagine we can get them lookin’. An’ Hive…he was in the heads of all of those…cops,” Micah’s tone for that last word implies it wasn’t really the one he had in mind to say initially. “So maybe he got some information from ‘em? It sounds like…they’re lookin’ into the finances. An’ some videos that might have been taken. I think they’re gettin’ hands on some pretty damnin’ evidence. They’re gonna try an’ see if we can get this to stick to /at least/ the people in charge. I dunno. Just throw it at the wall an’ see what sticks. The system ain’t what it oughtta…” He picks up the little Noxcat again, giving the closest thing to a hug that can be given to a catshape. “I have to say I’m pretty okay with the idea of you not killin’ everybody, Nox. Even if maybe they’re awful enough to deserve it.” “I should have,” Nox hums, directly into his ear--a distressingly frank statement for something so small and cuddly at the moment. But that is the way of cats, surely, and part of their charm. In spite of being wee, they’re convinced of their lethality. As for everything else he’s shared, she’s taken it in. How much is /kept/ is another question entire. “...perhaps if it works. They can do this. For the labs. There were...mmm. It is. A bad world. A phone, here...that is a good idea, yes. Lucien has been...he has been so very...” But words fail. She settles instead for buzzing. “I did not say thank you, did I? For helping.” Micah is, in the way of cat-lovers, utterly unconcerned with the lethality of the cuddly bundle sitting in his lap. “Well, I’ll just maybe…be thankful for whatever made you decide not to. ‘Cause… It seems like it would be…even harder. Livin’ with havin’ done that…than not and wishin’ you had. Maybe. I could just be projectin’ myself at other folks an’ prob’ly shouldn’t so much.” His hand continues idle petting of Noxkitty’s head and shoulders. “I can help with gettin’ the phone, if y’want. Or Lucien can,” he adds with a pleased sort of smile. At Nox? Or Lucien? At the purring sound? Perhaps all of the above. “Oh, hon, I got /no/ need for thanks. I can’t imagine /not/ helpin’. It was crazy-makin’, not knowin’ what to do for so long…” Nox gets swept up in another hug. “All the thanks I need is in you bein’ back an’ safe here with Lucien again.” Nox turns her head to butt crown against cheek. It is the gentlest of butts, given that she’s growing indistinct at the edges again. “That would be...yes. I think. I should be shadows again, Micah. It is...I am so very tired now. Will you...if you see Anole...?” She holds her shape long enough to receive an answer, clinging to the comfort of hugs for as long as she can. Then she is bleeding away, the burn marks making it all too easy to track the way she slinks back into the house. Micah nuzzles gently against what matter remains to nuzzle. “Yes, you should rest. It is late… An’ I should get back t’make sure everythin’s still in order at Jax’s.” He nods in reply to the request about Anole. “I’ll either get a message to ‘im or tell ‘im myself, to have ‘im come by or send a message this way. I’ll leave another one of my cards here, if you or Lucien need t’get hold of me for whatever.” He just watches the shadow-form slip away, half-whispering a soft, “Goodnight,” in her wake. He shakes himself a bit, and stretches, to steel his nerves for facing the world once more before rising to his feet. His exit, at least, is less hasty than his entrance had been.