ArchivedLogs:Right as Rain

Right as Rain
Or something like that
Dramatis Personae Hanna, Melinda
In Absentia	2014-04-09 Visiting, and a promise of cookies
Location <NYC> BoM Safe House - Lower East Side
One small room in the safe house has been co-opted by Melinda and tailored to fit her specific needs for the time being. A queen sized mattress (her own) has been stuffed on one end of the room, taking up all of one wall and two thirds of the adjacent wall space. It is covered with a variety of pillows, everything from full body pillows to u-shaped pillows, vain attempts to help a pregnant woman on bed rest stay comfortable. There are also an assortment of blankets over the pale blue sheets, each different blanket suiting a different season as the weather outside, from a light weave summer blanket to a very plush comforter good down to 30 degrees. Beside the bed and perpendicular to the sliding closet doors, there is a night stand and a cooler, the nightstand providing a place for Mel to keep her laptop entertainment, with drawers for snacks and a cooler for fresher food. Light filters in between the slats of the boarded over window, but the glass is intact on the inside, and overhead and table side lamps light the room in the darker hours. Midmorning finds Melinda where she has been for the better part of the last few weeks, laying in bed, full of baby. Edges of misery have made their way into the dark circles under hir eyes, as she sits on her mattress instead of laying, pinning upright in the corner where the bed meets two walls. She has one arm wrapped around her belly, where her free hand keeps a finger in the book she's reading, her attention elsewhere and seemingly no where pleasant. She exhales and grabs a book mark, half crawling across the mattress to find her glass of juice. Hanna has been making her daily deliveries of pastries to the safe house, or at least the pastries have been appearing with regularity since her last visit with Melinda. Today, however, the baker woman makes a proper visit of it, arriving after the morning rush to check in on her friend. Dressed for work, Hanna has apparently begun to recover some of her wardrobe, dressed in a simple red day-dress with bright white polkadots, buttoned down the front with shining opalescent buttons, a thick black belt cinched around her waist. Knocking gently on the door frame, Hanna peeks in at Mel, her other hand holding a smaller Happy Cakes box, filled with the promise of fresh baked goods. “Hey there, Mel,” Hanna greets in a warm, quiet voice, looking over her friend with a gentle smile, “Need some help there?” "Yes." Melinda replies flatly, shaking her head and acquiring a dry smile for Hanna's benefit. "Come on in, pull up some mattress, take a load off. Join the worry corner. I see you brought the snacks. I don't have much to offer. I mean, there's coffee and tea in the kitchen, but I can't get it for you." She slumps back in her corner and tugs a blanket over her legs to fight off the chill of the room. "How are you?" Almost before Mel actually agrees that she needs help, Hanna moves to pick up the juice glass, passing it over to Mel once she has settled back into her corner. “Here,” Hanna says quietly, taking up a seat on the edge of the mattress near Mel, a look of concern on her features. “I’m well enough, I suppose. More than a little concerned about the news lately,” she admits quietly, toying with the colored twine holding the pastry box shut, “For once actually happy that Jayna and I are in the basement of the bakery. No commute.” Hanna sets the pastry box down for Mel, offering a warm smile, “Figured you might like some sweets.” She pauses, perhaps toying over how to phrase this, “How are you doing? Any better after the scare this weekend? Anything I can do to help?” The worried expression and cloudy-gray color of her eyes, along with the neutral set of her lips suggest she might already know at least part of the answer. Mel takes the glass and rests it on her belly, head tilting to rest against the wall. "Heh. If any of this was about me…" She swallows hard, her nose turning red as her eyes well up with tears. "So… have you watched the news or have you /heard/ the news? There's a really big difference between hearing about something remote happening to people you don't quite know - and dealing with the fact that someone…" she wets her lips and looks away, trying to calm down again. “There have been… whispers. People talk at the bakery, just sort of here and there. The atmosphere has been,” Hanna pauses, eyes closing as she tries to find the right words, “Tense. Nervous. Scared. More than the illustrious cable news channels would suggest.” She blinks in confusion a few times when Mel starts to well up, “Oh, honey, no. I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m {sorry},” she says, the last word in Hawaiian, though the intent is obvious. “You know someone? Who… who’s gone missing?” Hanna moves the pastry box to the side, taking the glass from Mel, and just offering a comforting hug, careful of the other woman’s stomach. The contact comes with a soft wave of warm comfort, almost imperceptible , but soothing none the less. "Dusk was taken… just across the street." Mel shuffles closer to Hanna, staying with the contact and whatever comfort comes with it. "They're searching hard for him, but it's all so horrible." She makes a small noise like the words she is trying to say have gotten stuck in her throat and then scared away. She takes a shuddering breath before uttering, "They've only found his eyes so far," and stopping trying for a little while. Tears fall and wet Hanna's shoulder, her hands holding at the other woman's torso before they start to loosen. “Dusk? Oh, oh no,” Hanna says, hugging Melinda tight again, not minding the tears, and not pulling back from the hug until Mel does. As long as they are in contact, the gentle sense of offered comfort continues to eek from Hanna in carefully measured waves. “Sshhh,” she soothes, petting Melinda’s back, though her breath catches at the mention of finding /part/ of Dusk, “Wait. What?” There is a hesitation in the comfort, barely there, before Hanna continues it again. She takes a deep breath, and sits back from Melinda, looking at her friend, her voice edged with concerned understanding as she says, “No wonder you’re stressed.” "There's a cult… church in the Bronx. They're kidnapping people, using them for transplants, stealing people's powers." Melinda slumps downward onto her pillows when Hanna pulls away, turning to lay on her side, exhausted. "They found the recipient of the 'donation.' Girl was blind before. It's like this is a terrible nightmare, but I'm awake for it. Can't sleep nearly enough." She wraps her arms around her belly and swallows hard. "I don't know what to do to end this stress - for the child's sake. If things don't get better soon, we might have to try again, with the kid on the outside." “Oh my god,” Hanna says, her cheeks going suddenly pale at the revelation, “That… but. Oh my god.” She shudders, and pulls back slightly, taking a deep steadying breath, her eyes actually taking on a nauseous looking black-green color for a moment before settling back to a matte brown shade. Swallowing hard, Hanna is visibly shaking, but she takes another deep breath. “People are vile,” she growls, closing her eyes as she tries to get her emotions back under control. The mention of not sleeping and stress, however, draws her attention and she looks between Mel’s face and stomach, thinking quietly for a moment. “I could likely help with the stress,” Hanna finally offers, in a hesitant and hushed voice, glancing out into the hallway to see if there are others listening. “My mutation, my empathy. It is a good deal more than I typically admit to,” she explains, wringing her hands and looking down at the bed, “I can influence emotions, and I am good at what I do. If you would like.” The baker pauses, lips pursed in thought, “I can pull the worry and frustration you are feeling away, at least temporarily,” she pauses, slate gray eyes looking at the box of pastries, “And I can bring you a batch of cookies. You won’t feel right as rain after eating them, but… they may take the edge off. No chemicals, no drugs. Just… comforting thoughts in cookie form.” Hanna falls silent, toying with the box again and waiting for a response. "I…" Melinda swallows hard and exhales. "I don't know how it would… feel to be without worry and stress in this situation. Seems… odd, but I also know I have to do what's good for the baby." She lets out another shuddering breath and peels herself off the mattress, trying to get her breathing back in order. "Apologies. I am not usually this…" she waves her hand about as she searches for a word, "messy. Blame the hormones and the universe and… you know." She wets her lips and focuses her attention on Hanna's face. "Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate this. I won't tell a soul about you, to the best of my ability, but I am also shit against telepaths." "What do I need to do?" “It’s okay,” Hanna says quietly, holding out her hand to Melinda as an invitation, “I won’t actually scrub away all the worry, or make you mind-numbingly happy. Unless that is what you would like.” She pauses, closing her eyes and concentrating for a moment, apparently centering herself. “I’ll just… lessen the pressure of it a bit,” Hanna explains with a soft smile, her eyes a warm brown color when she reopens them, “It won’t take away the fact that you are concerned for your friends, or care about their well being. But it’ll at least let you get some peaceful rest.” Shaking her head, Hanna smiles, “I appreciate it. Telepaths aren’t the ones I worry about, typically.” Hanna holds up her hand again, palm facing up, “Just take my hand and try to relax. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, let me know, and I will stop.” "Out of curiosity, which ones do you worry about?" Melinda asks, quiet and timid. She reaches out her hand and gently lays it on top of Hanna's. She nervously wets her lips as she waits, gaze darting from Hanna's face to her hand to her face again and then her head cants a bit toward the window. "No. I don't want to get lost in feelings, good or bad right now. I just want to be calmer, healthier for the child." “Military,” comes Hanna’s quiet response, looking away, “Grew up next to a base. I suppose there are other things to worry about more, all things considered. But that has been my greatest fear since this all started.” She takes a deep breath focusing herself on the task and hand, gently placing her other hand over Melinda’s, her eyes fluttering closed in concentration. The sensation as Hanna begins is not obvious, instead just a sense of warmth and contentment begins to creep about to envelope Melinda. A bit like a warm, comforting hug and a dozen cookies fresh out of the oven, all delivered right where it is needed. The force of the worry is lessened, in addition, but not stripped away entirely, merely softened by the sense of comfort and contentedness. Over the course of several minutes, unless otherwise told to stop, Hanna works, carefully balancing the push and pull of emotions in her friend. Melinda is not really picking up the finger points of Hanna's powers or how they are helping, because as the stress and worry start to diminish to something more manageable, her weariness increases. The need to sleep has been underneath everything the entire time, but now that there is nothing else standing between her and it, it seems to become overwhelming. She sinks back down to the mattress, keeping her hand in Hanna's, using the other one to bunch a pillow under her head. When Hanna finally stops, Mel's eyelids are heavy and barely staying open. "Thank you, Hanna." “There,” Hanna says softly, once Melinda starts to sink back towards the mattress, “That should be a good start.” Her eyes, once she opens them, have settled into the abyssal blue-black color of deep tropical waters, though her expression is tired. She offers a calm smile, helping Mel to get the pillows situated, and a blanket back within reach if necessary. “You’re welcome, Mel. I’ll let you rest. Should have a nice fresh batch of cookies here for you when you wake up,” Hanna says, carefully rising to her feet and silently heading for the door. "Thank you again," Melinda replies, eyes not opening anymore. She barely hears the door close behind Hanna, already partially asleep as she leaves.