ArchivedLogs:Of a Feather
| Of a Feather | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2014-02-04 Part of Morpheus TP. (Set after chocolate dreaming and some time before seeking out B.) |
| Location
<XS> Art Room - FL2 | |
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. Today dawned with ever more oddities that seem right out of a dream, with chocolate raindrops splattering against the windows of the mansion, and fluffy chocolate mousse clouds hanging heavy overhead. Thankfully, there does not seem to be a trouble making daconequus at the heart of it - just unusual weather for this time of year. It is still early enough that not many people are around the halls of the mansion before classes begin for the day. The door to the art room is slightly ajar, allowing the brilliant glow of flourescent lighting to spill out into the hallway. Inside, sitting at one of the work tables and facing the door, is Ducky, dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a hooded Xavier's school sweatshirt in faded gray. Her pigeon is settled into the hood of the shirt, barely visible and still decidedly asleep. For once, Ducky isn't babbling or chattering excitedly at the bird or the empty room, instead just staring intently at object on the tabletop. Set reverently in front of her, as carefully as she could manage, is a custom modified tablet, the stylus attached to it with a springy cord. It looks like it has been through hell and back before arriving in this room - the dark screen is a spiderweb of white cracks, the frame bent slightly. Fall damage, for anyone who has seen broken tech before. Ducky leans her elbows on the table, her shoulder hunched over so her reflection stares up from the mangled screen. In her hands, she gently turns over a speckled brown and white feather, delicately smoothing the barbs in the direction of their growth so as to not damage them. She sniffles, quietly, her attention entirely focused on the single feather in her hands. Early-early though it may be, Jackson has a /bounce/ in his step as he makes his way through the halls and into the art room. He's not yet headed down to exercise for the day -- gym, probably, rather than tattoo-bleaching pool -- and his arms are heavily laden already. Gym bag slung over shoulder as well as his heavy messenger bag, arms folded across his chest to hold high-stacked cases laden with cupcakes though the frosted plastic tops make it hard to tell what today's flavour might be and with the chocolate falling from the sky maybe they won't be in as high demand today /anyway/. He's brightly dressed as ever, mottled purple and black skinny jeans, sparkly silver Doc Martens, speckled silver and black makeup and nails, a long-sleeved black t-shirt with blue-and-purple-and-black 'believe in faeries' t-shirt over top, rainbow-striped hoodie over top. Carefully balanced on the very top of his stacks of cupcake carriers are /two/ mugs, brimming over with fluffy mousse from outside. Jackson sighs with relief as he reaches a table where he can unburden himself carefully of his armload of /things/ and set his bags down in a corner, only then plucking a mug off the top of his stack to swipe his tongue through the top of the mousse and cheerfully offering the second untouched cup to Ducky. "Mousse? It's /delicious/. An' so fluffy I'm gonna /die/ -- G'mornin'! -- oh." The smile flees from his face, eye widening as he catches sight of the tablet in front of Ducky. "Wha -- where -- how did -- where did you. Find. That." The sudden dip of his head downward ends up with a chunk of mousse on his nose. The second mug is set down with a /clunk/ on the table beside the tablet. His hand white-knuckles around his own blue-and-black swirly-patterned mug. When Jax enters the room, Ducky startles, looking up nervously and stuttering, "M... morning Mister Jackson." The offered mousse cup gets a slow shake of her head, her attention turning back to the tablet. "S'good mousse. Better fresh from the clouds, though," Ducky responds quietly, still petting the feather intently, as though afraid it would vanish from her hands. "I... it was on my nightstand when I woke up from a dream. A wonderful, amazing dream," she says, closing her eyes and smiling nervously, lifting the feather as though that would offer further evidence, "Horus... he... he was in the dream. But it was /him/. I know it was. I... I know it. He's out there somewhere, still. Alive, Mister Jackson." Jackson sets /himself/ down with a a thump, too, sitting down with a heavy hiss in a stool beside Ducky and staring down at the tablet. Then at the feather. His fingers curl around the mug, his hands shaking. "But how do you -- know that -- okay." His eye squeezes shut, head bobbing in a slow nod. "I've -- some other people have said -- except but nobody's heard from him in so -- and if he's out there why ain't he --" He reaches out a hand slowly when Ducky lifts the feather, fingertips tracing against its edge very lightly, brushing upwards along it so as not to ruffle its edges out of place. His hand falls back down from feather to broken tablet, running against its cracked screen, chipped and dented edges. He lifts his hand from the damage to curl his knuckles up against his lips, his breath catching unsteadily and his eye abruptly bright. "I -- okay." His voice is unsteady, too. "It's just -- it's been so long an' ain't nobody -- I jus' don't know where he'd." He blinks, knuckles lifting in sudden scrub against his cheek to -- well. It doesn't /look/ like he's wiping away anything, but his voice is shaky, his breath catching, and he scrubs his hand against his jeans despite his cheek /showing/ no signs of dampness. Visual illusion can only cover so /much/. "-- have been all this while. I can, um. S'weird to think a thing manifested outta a dream might really'a been his but when I was in jail m'husband got a -- dream-thing too an' my boys said it smelled like /me/ on it so. I wonder if -- if some tech-minded person might. Be able to fix it -- at least see where it'd been last. Might be a start." Ducky shivers slightly, reaching and arm behind her to scratch at her back, just between her shoulder blades, "Maybe... maybe he couldn't. He didn't have a charger, or, or the tablet got damaged during all the apocalypsing that happened. I had been messaging him. He... he stopped answering when things went to hell." The young girl sniffles, no illusion to hide her tears as they fall to the table, her head bowed, when Jax expresses doubt. "'Cause I'd almost given up hope that I'd see him again. That he was out there. This is the only thing I've got. I don't wanna give up hope. I can't," Ducky mutters, stroking the feather slowly. A soft, defeated sigh issues from her nose, and she starts to speak but falls quietly, as though unable to formulate the right words. "I've dreamt of him before. Lotsa times. But... this is the first happy dream I've had since everything happened. When... when he stopped answering his texts, my dreams were never like this. I useta fly in my dreams. All the time - s'the only time I can fly is in my dreams. But I haven't been able to since November. S'gone. And he's always just barely there in the dreams. A flash of wing, a twitter, a flutter of wings. Always just out of reach, not talking to me." She takes a deep breath and pauses her babbled explanation, focusing on the tablet with a sniffle, her voice defiantly certain, "But he was /there/. Talking to me, flying with me. It was him." Ducky nods emphatically at the mention of tech, and looks down at the shattered tablet, "It's broken and stuff, but they might be able to get data off of it, or see if he was taking notes, or pictures. Or... or /something/. S'gotta be something we can do?" There's a note of hope, perhaps a bit shakey, in her voice. "These dreams --" Jackson wipes at the side of his face again, rubbing his palm down against his thigh. He takes a longer slower breath, steadying himself. The swipe of his hand against his face smears a little bit of the mouse from his nose against his cheek; he doesn't resally seem to notice. "You ain't the only one," he admits, softly. "Who's had. Um. One of our friends. His brother's been -- missing. Well, we thought dead. But now we don't think. It seemed the same. Like he was /really there. An' /all/ these dreams have seemed like they're comin' from a positive place. A happy place. If they're really connectin' people -- they really connected me an' Micah. When I was in jail. So if they're connectin' you an' Horus too - -maybe they can help us find him. Bring him home." There's still a tremor in his voice, but it's slowly quieting. "Do you mind if I ask the Professor to keep a particular eye on your dreams, the next few nights? If it happens again, maybe he can watch out for Horus. It's a long shot, but s'possible if Horus is really there, he can -- feel him, too, somehow." "So all this? All that's been going on is from dreams, really? The colors, the costumes... the chocolate rain? And it's finding people?" She glances out towards the window, a smile tugging at her lips, "The chocolate rain is mine, too. Well, from the same dream. We were flying and racing in the clouds, and there was chocolate rain of all kinds, brownies, and mousse, and sprinkles, and fudge. And the clouds were so soft and chocolatey and comfortable to nest in. I had wings - big pretty soft feathered robot wings that really worked." She extends her arms out as though to mimic wings, smiling happily at the remembered dream, though her cheeks are still damp with tears, "They were light, with dark speckles on them. Horus called me Ducky 3.0." She blinks in confusion at the thought of having her dreams watched by the Professor, eyes going wide, "I, um, well, I mean. I... if it'll help find Horus, sure. Anything. C...can I keep the feather? I mean, I know the tablet needs to go to techy people, but can I keep his feather? Please?" She still holds onto it nervously, her hands shaking slightly, anxiety edging back into her voice. "As -- far as we can tell this is all really from dreams," Jackson confirms with a very shaky-small smile. "But nice ones. Happy-ones. An' they ain't all been finding people but -- a few of 'em. Been connectin' to loved ones. Not all missin' people I mean, Rasa an' Peter connected to each other an' ain't neither of 'em missin'. But I guess they can connect t'folks you care about. An' if folks is missin' /an'/ you care about 'em a lot, maybe they're on your mind a lot when you dream." Jackson shrugs a shoulder, looking down at the feather. His hand lifts again, the backs of his knuckles brushing gently up against it. "Of course you can, honey-honey. Kisha might be the best person t'look into the tablet. Her or Bastian. Sage. Or both'a them. Alla them." His teeth scrape against his lip. "An' y'can probl'y keep the tablet too when they're done. 'least," he tells her, "until we can give it /back/ t'Horus." Ducky nods, and gently runs a finger along the edge of the broken tablet, avoiding the shattered portions of the glass, "I was gonna take it to Sebastian, since he knows Horus. And since he is really smart with computers and stuff, I figure he might be able to make it work again, at least for a little bit. I just wanted to talk to you first, 'cause I... I wanted to make sure this was happening." She ruffles her hair nervously, nodding, "I'm glad people're having happy dreams. Dunno where it's coming from. Dun really care, if the dreams're happy, and if they're helping connect people. All the better. We need some happy thoughts." She pets the feather again, nodding, "Thank you. And I'll be sure to keep the tablet safe for him, for when he comes back. If we can fix it to be useable again. I'll keep it safe." "'kay." Jax draws in a deep breath, forcing a stronger smile onto his face. "'kay. Right. I'll talk to the Professor, an' you can alk t'Bastian, then. An' we'll -- do what we can t'find him. With this startin' to seem like more of a /pattern/, I'm -- havin' a fair bit of hope. Wherever he is, we'll -- help him." He swipes his finger through the mousse in his mug, licking chocolate off his fingertip. "Thank y'for comin' t'me with this." His head shakes as he slides off his stool. "I really hope we find whoever's behind all this too. Kinda -- /crazy/ as everything's been, I think we got a lotta happy to thank them for, too." Ducky nods, pulling the tablet carefully back toward her, gingerly handling it as though afraid it would shatter further. "Okay," she says, determined, "And maybe the Professor knows someone who can find people like this. From far away. 'Cause I mean, mutants can do a lotta stuff - s'gotta be someone." Picking up the tablet and gingerly hugging it to her chest, feather still clutched in her hand, "They're not gonna get in trouble for this, right? Whoever's doing this, if we find them. They deserve a medal, and, like, a giant cookie, with frosting. Not to end up in trouble." Ducky sniffles, twirling the feather by the quill, adding defensively, "'least I think so, anyway." She finally looks at Jax more solidly, tilting her head to the side in a bird-like manner, "Y'okay, Mister Jackson? Y'kinda managed't smudge chocolate on your nose, though." "I just want to give 'em a hug," Jackson says with an easier smile. A sudden blush flushes across his cheeks when Duck points out the chocolate on his nose. He wipes the back of his hand across his nose -- at first just smearing it more until he wipes his palm across his face again, cleaning his skin off properly. "I'll be okay," he assures her. "I just. I know y'really miss him. I jus' -- I really miss him too." Ducky smiles and relaxes a bit when Jackson says he just wants to hug the person, nodding emphatically, "Oh good. 'Cause I don't want to get them in trouble. Kinda wouldn't really want to help anyone find the person if they were gonna get in trouble for it." Giggling when Jax misses the smudge the first time, Ducky grins and offers, "Y'got it the second time." Carefully, Ducky stands, still cradling the tablet against her torso, "Yeah. S'alotta people missing. And being missed. Just wanted to make sure I hadn't upset you with this. But... thank you. For believing me. I hope we find him, and he's okay. 'Cause then we won't have to miss him anymore." She starts to head towards the door, offering a bob of her head in farewell, rather than risking a wave, "I'll let you know if they find anything on the tablet, 'kay?" Jackson nods, taking his seat again so that he can pull his phone out of his pocket. "'kay. I'll keep y'posted on what the Professor says. An' talk t'Micah too 'cuz'a -- he's the one what maked the tablet t'begin with." He offers Ducky a wave, a small smile. "An' if he's out there, we'll find him." This, at least, is less shaky than his earlier teary words, before his attention turns to his phone.
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