ArchivedLogs:Like This

Like This
Dramatis Personae B, Micah	2015-01-26 Follows just after cold.
Location <NYC> The Grotto - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The basement of this home does not much resemble the upper levels at all. Stony and rather cave-like, its flooring is rock -- where it has flooring, anyway. The majority of the space in the center of the room is taken up by an indoor pool, of sorts, though the stone ledges around its edge and the tiny ripples of waterfall burbling down into it from stone steps leading in give it more the feel of an indoor /pond/. Somewhere in the side a door leads out to the riverside, and around one rocky wall a small bathroom /also/ has the feel of being carved out of the stone. For the most part, though, the room is just taken up by Pool -- though in the wall on the farthest side away from the pond there's been recessed shelving and storage space cut right into the stony facade. It's quiet in here. Dark. Empty. Silent save for the soft gurgle of water over rocks, trickling down into the pool. It has taken...actually some time for Micah to reach the twins' room, despite following directly after B as ze fled the common house. Bundling back into (and subsequently out of) /layers/ of winter gear was not exactly /optional/ for the redhead and trekking even the shortest of distances through the already fallen and rapidly falling snow proved difficult even with crutches. Outerwear deposited back in Lighthaus before slipping over to Beachhaus, Micah is once again down to a Batsignal hoodie over soft grey sweater over white henley, lined bluejeans, and soot sprite slippers. He has a mitten in hand as he slinks hesitantly into the room, sliding up to the signal bell and pressing it then just watching the water with lip-chewing concern. Somewhere deep under the water a light goes on, off, on, off again. On, off, on, off again. For a time after this the water continues being still, but eventually there's a ripple. A series of ripples. A small blue face breaks the surface, huge black eyes staring off towards Micah. At the tinysharkface's appearance, Micah meekly waves the mitten. "Y'left your mitten," he reiterates before coming closer, crouching near the edge of the pool. "B...hon. Are you okay? Are /we/ okay?" His shoulders shrug upward slightly with the question, hazel eyes studying B's face carefully. There's a soft lap of water as B pushes further up, mouth finally breaking the surface. "Sorry," ze answers reflexively in quiet Vietnamese. Ze stays in the middle of the pool, glancing to the mitten and then up to Micah. "Why wouldn't we be?" “Nothin' t'apologise for, sugar.” Micah worries the mitten in his hands, thinking a moment before responding to B's question. “I don't know, honey. I feel like I...usually don't know when things aren't okay with you until they're way beyond not okay. Too many times you're...gone. An' we haven't even talked about whatever it was.” He shrugs again, glancing down to the mitten then back up to B. “I don't wanna miss when things aren't okay anymore. There's lots of... I tried t'give y'space after that dream an' not bring it up. 'Cause it ain't /happened/. But maybe y'wanna talk about that? Or...the whole thing with Eri? Or your eighteenth birthday comin' up or... I dunno. Maybe somethin' I'm missin' entire? I just feel like. There's somethin'.” "I'm right here." Though a moment later B disappears back under the water. Only to reappear by the edge of the pool, pulling hirself up to settle on a ledge submerged near the water's surface, legs dangling over the edge and the water lapping up to hir chest. "It ain't -- hasn't," ze corrects hirself with a small blush, "happened. Yet." “That's why I'm here,” Micah replies simply. He actually chuckles a little at B's 'ain't'. “Ohgosh, we're takin' y'down with us. Was only a matter'a time.” His crouch settles back a little, allowing his seat to meet with the ground and support him more comfortably. “Those dreams're one possibility of what /could/ happen, after a lotta /other/ horrible happens, sugar. We're workin' t'keep that war from bein' what it could be. I don't...blame you for any of that, honey, 'cause it ain't /this/ you or /this/ me that did any of it. S'that make sense? I just...love you. Miss you, lately.” "It's contagious." B pulls her legs up onto the ledge, wrapping her arms around her shins. "OK, maybe it's. A lot of horrible things happening but." She shakes her head, looking down into the water. "Maybe the world is different there. Maybe the /situation/ is different? But /we're/ the same people. It's still /me/. I haven't -- /done/ anything but it's --" She frowns, deeply. "Still me." "So I hear," Micah concurs, another small smile sneaking its way through. "But it's...not, honey. All those future dreams I have? It ain't /really/ me. I can't...I can't think how much it'd change me. Just the people who're /gone/ in that world. It's the same for you...that ain't... Y'don't feel that way about me or Peter /now/, do you?" His head shakes a little. "Who we are is in large part a sum of our experiences. Y'can't claim t'be a person as ain't finished /happenin'/ yet. As might never." B shakes her head, looking down at the pool. There's a long stretch of quiet, her gills shifting slowly beneath the water. "It's always still you. The world doesn't -- make you a different person. You just." She swallows, tightening her hands against her legs. "You are who you are. And that shapes how you respond to whatever the world -- throws at you. And it's not like most of us -- don't. Already have plenty of experience. With what we're like when everything's falling apart." “That you...was a lot dif'rent from the you that I know. I know feelin's ain't rational? But...it's...I dunno. It seems like you're feelin' guilty for things y'ain't done, maybe.” Micah leans down to rest a hand on B's shoulder. “I love you, sugar. That dream don't change that none. Even /bein'/ in that dream didn't change that none. I still loved you. If that's worth anythin'.” "I'm not feeling /guilty/." B sounds surprised at this, glancing up with a slight widening of eyes. "It's not -- I'm not -- /guilty/ that hasn't. Even happened yet, it's." Her eyes close, words trailing off as her gills open back up. “That's...what I been sayin'. It ain't happened. I just...” Micah's head shakes once, quickly. “I want t'understand, honey. I'm not sure I'm gonna without y'tellin' me what's goin' on.” "But nothing's going on," B insists, frowning. "I don't know what you mean." “Y'flinched, honey. When I went t'touch you. An' then y'/fled/. Fast enough that y'dropped your mitten an' didn't put all your winter gear on proper when y'left.” Micah just watches his hand as it makes very small petting movements over B's shoulder. “Y'just. Seemed upset. An' whether I'm a part of that or not, I don't know. Am I makin' all this up? I been...kinda touchy lately. Maybe I'm projectin'. But y'seemed upset an' I wanted to at least...know. If not help.” "It's not like I was going far." Beneath Micah's hand, B's shoulder is tense. "I don't think. Any more upset than usual." She fidgets, faintly uncomfortable, gills flapping again. "And it's not you. I mean, it's not -- you didn't. Do anything, I just. Didn't want to be there. Talking about -- those dreams or. Anything. Not with Mel and not with. Anyone. But it's not. You." "I always feel like y'got a lot goin' on an' keep it all bottled up inside 'til it gets t'be too much. An' I'm /here/, okay? If y'ever wanna talk any of that out. I just...feel like folks got all this stuff goin' on an' they don't...talk t'me about it. An' that never /ends/ well. Just had this conversation with your pa a few days ago, too." Micah sighs heavily, slumping, but not breaking the contact with B, the hand rubbing gently. "Just know y'can talk t'me, okay? I love you. You're still my kid. An' I want t'be a person y'can come to when you're upset or confused or /especially/ if there's somethin' y'need t'talk t'me about /specific/. Y'all said y'did still need us. An' I just wanna...fulfill that. If y'do. Okay?" "Pa's an illusionist." There's a very small curl upward at the corners of B's mouth, but it's tiny. Sort of sad. "Prettying up the truth is kind of what he does." Her cheek tips to one side, pressing lightly against the backs of Micah's knuckles. "I do love you. I just can't -- can't." The rapid shake of her head scrapes rough-sharp skin against Micah's fingers. "Like I said, it's not you. It's just the -- me. In those dreams. Or here now I'm -- still the same person. And I don't -- want to..." She hesitates, pressing her lips together. “I just wish folks felt like they could talk t'me. /Would/ talk t'me. It'd save a lotta misunderstandin' an' grief that goes on.” Micah shrugs, beginning to feel like a litany in how often he's said it these days. His fingers rub at B's cheek, the appropriate direction to keep from damaging his own skin in the process. “What 'me' d'you think that is, honey? What don't y'wanna do?” B's gills flutter again. Hir eyes close as ze mooshes hir face down against Micah's hand. Finally, quiet: "... hurt you." Micah's hand strokes gently at B's cheeks. “People hurt each other. We don't want to an' we don't mean to sometimes, but it happens. I didn't mean...that whole thing with Eri. Hurt you an' Shane. But we worked through that together.../eventually/. Once people sat and talked 'bout what they need. So prob'ly at some point in the future, you're gonna hurt me. But not...like that. I don't think you'll ever get to /be/ like that. 'Cause that future ain't /gonna/ happen. We won't let it.” B's eyes squeeze shut tighter. A tiny shudder of breath passes out of her lips, and then her head lifts. Shakes. "You're not listening." It's not really accusatory, her tone. Moreso just resigned. She pulls away from the wall, slipping a few feet out into the water, away from Micah's touch. "I'm already like that. I've always been like that." "I'm listenin', sugar. I just don't understand what..." It might seem a little odd to be stripping just then, but Micah quickly has all of his clothes in a pile save a sleeveless undershirt and shorts, removing his prosthetic leg and all the contact liners before sliding in to B's submerged shelf and reaching out to hir. "You're not...like that. Sugar y'don't /want/ t'hurt me. Y'don't /want/ t'hurt Peter. You're not in that place where things got that dark for you. I /love/ you, sugar. I don't think you're out t'hurt me. I don't think...y'hate me. For existin'. Do you?" "Sometimes." B's voice is very soft. She disappears beneath the water again, not actually surfacing immediately but tucking herself still-submerged onto the shelf beside Micah. Curled up in a small ball, head rested on the rock near Micah's leg without actually touching. For a short while she stays there, quiet; it takes a minute even after her head pokes back up before she manages to press her gills flat and speak again. "Sometimes I do." Her eyes have fixed up on the ceiling, head slowly tipping back against the rocky edge of the pool. "I wasn't /out/ to hurt you then, either. I came to fix your legs." “Oh. You /do/ hate me for existin'?” The muscles in his jaw tighten. “Is that somethin' I can....I'm not sure what t'do with that.” Micah reaches over to the B-ball, petting soothingly. “But even if y'do. Hurt me sometimes. Honey, I love you enough that havin' /you/. It's worth it.” "Sometimes." It's a little bit more tense this time, B fidgeting uncomfortably next to Micah. "I think you're underestimating how bad I could hurt you. Did you /watch/ the videos that came out of the fighting ring, I'm not --" She swallows, staring down into the water. "Injury is easier to live with than hurting someone you love is, anyway." “Honey, y’wasn’t hurtin’ those folks t’hurt ‘em. Y’was starved an’ tortured an’ scared for your life. Why would y’ever be hurtin’ me like that? I don’t…” MIcah pets at B’s back. “D’you not want me to be here? I mean, like, ever? If you’re hatin’ me for existin’. I’m just tryin’ t’work out what...what’s goin’ on here. What people want.” B closes her eyes, pulling her knees up towards her chest once more and dropping her face to rest against her shins. "No. I don't know. It's not /you/, I just." Her gills flutter again. "You're /human/, sometimes that's. Hard." Her shoulders have tensed again, claws pressing down hard into her legs. "I was hurting them because I had to hurt them. I might hurt you if I had to, too." "I see. It's not that…I'm here. It's what I am. I can get that, with what you've been through. Um. If you ever need space from me 'cause you're havin' a day or a moment or whatever where havin' people not-with-X-genes 'round is too much? Just tell me that. Shorthand, even. Like, 'I can't handle human right now' or somethin'. Then I'll know what's goin' on an' get outta your face 'stead of tryin' t'sort what's wrong. S'that seem like it'd be helpful?" Micah's hand reaches up to scruff at B's spike-hair. "Sugar, /ev'ryone/ could hurt me bad. Jax or Spence just by /accident/, even. Dusk, Shane. Ev'ryone. If I were worried 'bout that I wouldn't be here." The arm drops to B's shoulders to give a little squeeze. "Those're horrible extenuatin' circumstances, sugar. It ever comes down t'you havin' t'hurt me or you'll /die/? I'd rather…it's. It's okay. If you ever had t'do that. I'd rather y'did that than die." "Okay. I can do that." B's eyes have scrunched up tight, her shoulders faintly trembling. Her head shakes again quickly as Micah goes on. "Stop. Stop, don't -- do. That. That /thing/ you do --" Her gills flutter again quickly. "You're /still/ not listening. You always want to try to. Make everything -- better. Extenuating circumstances. Explain it away like everyone's /better/ than we are. That's just going to get /you/ hurt. But don't -- /make/ excuses for me. You might not be worried about it but you should be. /I'm/ worried about it." "I'm not tryin' t'make excuses, hon, apologies." Micah's free hand fists to circle over his heart. "But there /were/. I mean, y'wouldn't've been hurtin' those people just for no reason. Or 'cause y'/wanted/ to. Y'said it yourself. You did it 'cause you /had/ to." At B's trembling, Micah's hold just grows firmer, more supportive. "I understand your worryin', sugar. But what's there t'be done 'bout it? Like I said, /evr'yone/ could hurt me. Not even just you all, it's… If I went 'round focused on that, I'd never leave the house. Not even this house. Another house with no one else in. I /love/ you. Lovin' means riskin' gettin' hurt by other people. It's just…worth it t'me. T'have people t'love." His teeth meet with his lower lip and mash at it pensively. "What d'you want t'do 'bout this, honey? It's…obviously weighin' on you." B slowly relaxes into Micah's hold, squeezing hir eyes shut and turning hir face in against hir father's shoulder. "But I'm not talking about the kind of hurt like where you love someone and they screw up. I'm talking like the kind of hurt where you let a wild tiger into your house and they claw your face off." Hir brow furrows, deep. "... though I guess if you /love/ the tiger it's a little of both." Hir shoulders sag, weight melting in, tired, against Micah's. "... I don't know. Usually I just want to -- go away." "When I said 'hurt' I meant both. Kindsa hurt. People've hurt me b'fore for lovin' 'em, honey. Strangers've hurt me, too. Both kinda ways. An' it didn't take no claws or extra teeth t'do it. It's what happens when you're in the world with other people." Micah pulls B into more of a cradling hug, easier to achieve for the buoyancy provided by the water. "I'm not so scared of somethin' hurtin' me that I don't wanna have it. An' that's /my/ choice. I want you here, even if you're dangerous. I want Shane an' Spence an' Jax…even if /they're/ dangerous. I love you. I want you here. I want t'be here." Tipping his head down, he places a careful kiss at B's temple. "If people're chosin' t'associate with you knowin' the risks there are, s'their choice, ain't it?" B's head tips slightly down, a tremble running through her shoulders again. "Yeah," she answers softly. "Yeah, that's. Their choice. I just get scared. Like I'm kind of broken? And I don't know how to -- fix it." Her head shakes again, but in lieu of further conversation she just curls back up. Curls back /down/, beneath the water, tucked into a ball once more with her head this time resting on Micah's lap. "I get that. Y'don't wanna hurt people. An' that's a good thing. That the idea of hurtin' people worries you. If it /didn't/…that's the kinda broken what /really/ concerns me." Micah cradles B closer, his right knee lifting a little to facilitate this. "Think we're all a little broken 'round here. S'just a matter of…what y'do with it once it's there. Y'can talk t'me. Whenever y'want. But maybe? I still think it wouldn't be a bad idea for you t'talk with your school counsellor. Or someone in the psych department at the Clinic. Or both. It's…it can be a big help. I been goin' a long time. Started goin' more after the whole…recently. Let me know if you're ever up to it an' I'll help, okay? Just…love you, sugar. Wanna help any way I can." When B ducks below the water, his hand moves to pet at hir hair, slow and steady and quiet. B just keeps hir eyes closed. Maybe ze is listening. Maybe not. But ze is relaxing at the petting, one hand curled around hir father's knee, quiet, too, in the warm water.