ArchivedLogs:Sibling Bonds

Sibling Bonds
Dramatis Personae B, Ion, Scramble	2017-06-08 "Alive, maybe. /Alright/?" (Discussing the predicament of Anette's arrest.)
Location <BOM> The Allspark - Ascension Island
Small and compact in the manner of most cabins on the island, this place is solidly built. Hardwood floors, sturdy log-wood walls, fireplaces in every room. It consists of a small sitting room, a bathroom with claw-footed tub, and two small bedrooms. The furnishing in here is eclectic, to say the least; it looks somewhat as though it has been scavenged piecemeal from what you might find if you did a google search for 'luxury home decor'. There's a plush dark sofa with a round marble-topped coffee table in front of it, a wrought-iron and red-glass side table beside it with a colourful Tiffany lamp on top. A full-sized tiger pelt as a throw-rug in front of the sofa. A large dark-brown leather recliner near the fireplace. Binding most of the room together, though, is the /scorch/ marks, floor and walls and furniture alike permanently rendered a little /crisped/ around the edges. For once Ion's cabin is quiet. Relatively quiet. There's music playing gently on a speaker -- Taina Asili's powerful vocals somewhat muted with the volume low -- and an intermittent erratic clicking from the crib where Egg lies napping fitfully. Ion has stolen this brief respite to grab himself a shower -- extreeemely abbreviated, he's only been in the bathroom a handful of minutes before emerging again in a pair of jeans, no shirt, toweling his hair dry. Quietly: "{You thinking dinner?}" B is curled up in a corner of the sofa, laptop in her lap and huge black eyes fixed on its screen. "{You seen this?}" She's watching a video on the display, brows knitted. The question sinks in only after a moment: "What you got?" Scramble knocks twice, quietly, but then lets herself in without waiting for an answer. She's dressed scantily, in a tight black cropped top and black-and-white checked cutoff denim shorts. She's carrying a folding nylon tote covered with rainbow puzzle piece patterns. "I come bearing tacos," she announces, draping herself down on -- the rest of the sofa. "What we watching?" "You a fucking lifesaver." The relief on Ion's face is nearly tangible, washing bright and warm over his expression. "I was thinking on having to cook and shit." He drapes against the back of the couch, leaning over his sisters' shoulders. "You got something interesting on?" One of his hands is reaching out for the tacos, though. "Oh man is there any carnitas in there?" On screen, the laptop is showing slightly grainy video footage -- a pair of cops viewed from behind, approaching Marinov and Paige and one human-looking youth. B taps at her computer, turning the volume just a little bit up -- "have been detained. Stand down immediately." The neutral and polite tones of a Sentinel addressing the group, as one bot comes into view stepping up alongside the other officers. "Just yesterday," B murmurs as the video keeps playing. "Did you all hear Anette got nabbed?" Scramble grits her teeth and sucks in a sharp breath at the video. She digs around in the bag, only half looking, but eventually comes out with a warm fold bundle labeled 'carn' in marker. She pulls out one marked 'pol' for herself and holds the bag up for Ion. "Nah, I hadn't. Was up working all last night." She frowns, lips pressing together tight as she unwraps the tacos. "She hurt?" "Fuck." Ion's eyes widen. He digs a taco out of the bag without looking at it, though he's slow to unwrap it. Watching the video with a growing frown. "That goddamn punk-ass seriously mouthing off to the cops with them kids around, shit?" His cheek clicks against his teeth in disgust. "They only snatch her when? When this? We getting her, yeah? -- Wait, is she fucking..." He trails off, taking a slow bite of his taco to stifle his next incredulous noise. "/Yeeeeah/." B's loathing is undisguised, a sharper edge to her tone as she watches the video. "You /know/ it's going to be the flatscan looking one giving lip like he doesn't fucking /care/ about Marinov or Paige's lives {for fuck's sake.}" Her Vietnamese is irritated. It, too, ends in a CHOMP of taco. Her tone levels off into something blander -- resigned? Unsurprised? as they continue watching. "... and then Anette. Telling them to run from the cops. Maybe she and the flatscan /both/ wanted everyone dead." Hir gills flutter quick at the question of getting Anette, and she doesn't immediately answer this past volunteering: "Just last night." Scramble looks thoroughly unsurprised by the beginning of the video, at least. She's just grimly working her way through her first taco while she watches. When the footage swings to Anette, though, her eyes go kind of wide. "What is she even /doing/, she /know/ they gonna recognize --" She breaks off. "Oh, she did /not/ just tell those kids to run. I mean she a whitey and all but come /on/ --" She practically chokes on her next bite of taco, watching Anette swoop down at the police. "That woman /crazy!/ And I don't drop that word lightly. You sure she still alive?" Ion isn't looking at the video anymore. His jaw has tightened hard, his eyes briefly closed -- then opened again, to fix across the room on Egg's crib. His shoulders settle more heavily, a small ripple briefly dimming the room's lights. "{God fucking help us.}" Rough and low. "Regan she know?" "I'm sure she knows, but I'll talk to her after." B follows Ion's gaze. Hir gills flutter faster, head tipping back against the couch to look up at her brother. "Be a blessing for that kid if she's not." This is just bland and flat. "But they took her into custody so -- yeah. Barring something going down in jail she's probably alright enough." Scramble's jaw sets hard, and her head shakes even harder. She attacks what remains of her taco with a ferocity that rivals B's. By the time she has chewed and swallowed, she seems a little calmer. "Alive, maybe. /Alright/?" Her dark brown eyes go back to video as it becomes a dizzying, juddering pursuit scene. "I dunno about all that." "Hhhh." Ion breathes out sharply. He pulls away from the back of the couch, still holding on to his mostly-wrapped and untouched taco. Crossing to Egg's crib, he leans against it, looking down with a deep knitting of brows. He reaches down, fingers rubbing gently between the toddler's growing horn-nubs. "Them bots, they can tell you where she got took?" "Yeah." B digs out a second taco after devouring her first. Stops the video, closes the laptop screen. Her gills haven't stopped fluttering. After a very long pause: "She's still our sister."