ArchivedLogs:Take The Sky

Take The Sky
Dramatis Personae Tag, Dusk, Lia, Kismet
In Absentia	16 October 2013 A pit stop on the way back from the lab rescue.
Location Safehouse, Virginia
This quaint little house in the backwoods of rural Virginia looks a likely set for an independent horror film. At least some effort has been make to fight back entropy, but the siding is mildewed, the gutters hang loose, and fallen leaves pile high all around. The signs along the mile-long winding driveway initially read 'Private Property: No Trespassing', but graduate to more and more dire threats, including a single handwritten 'Trespassers will be shot by crazy rednecks'. There aren't a lot of people fighting for this time share! The bus--which has lost a few panes of glass and gained a great many confused, huddled passengers--bumps up the driveway like a drunken elephant on rollerskates. The air it pushes in front of it kicks up eddies of crisp brown leaves. Tag puts on the parking brake and leans on the wheel for a moment before hitting the door release and rising. His slender hands are shaking, and he shoves them under his arms as he turns around. "Okay, we're here, let's--exit in an orderly fashion or...something." He looks like he might be exiting face-first down the steps himself. Dusk has been quiet through the ride. Making his way through the bus to dispense what smaller first aid these less-injured patients might need; a nick here, a cold compress for a bruise there. Water and snacks to anyone who wants them. The other van has taken the bulk of the serious damage and so his work is simpler, but regardless he makes his rounds diligently. When they pull in he heads out the open door, gesturing everyone out. "We're stopping for half an hour," he tells them. "There's more food inside, there's restrooms, but we need to head back to New York soon." His eyes shift to the second van with no small measure of guilt at this. One wing stretches back up into the van, brushing slowly against Tag's arm. Lia is curled up in Dorian's lap, having firmly established his teddy bear cushion status. The otter man has finally succumbed to exhaustion and is sleeping the sleep of the just. Lia's amazement at the /world outside/ is just too much to allow for such sedate things as sleeping for now. The girl's wan face is still pressed to the window, nose flattened against the glass, watching all the /things/ like a puppy on its first trip out of the house. She pops up at the invitation to /be/ outside, as well. She gives Dorian a little shake of the shoulder, but this does not rouse him. She places her liberated hard-bound copy of Bridge to Terabithia in the man's lap for safekeeping, carrying only her look-alike doll Coppelia (who happens to be /webbed/ to her right hand) down the aisle and stairs to exit the bus. Once outside, her head tilts upward, deep brown eyes fixed on all of that /sky/. Kismet lingers a while near the sleeping Dorian and Jeremy, but at last gets up and, with slow steps and a slight limp, emerges. There is no sign of bewilderment on his face at his surroundings, though he does look around. He bows to Tag and Dusk. "Thank you, on behalf of me and my...roommate. If there's anything I can do? Let me know." Tag is in the process of chugging an entire 500 cc bottle of water, but tries to bow back just by sheer force of reflex. This results in choking, followed by a coughing fit that shakes his hair loose /despite/ three ties and ten bobby pins. Loose and slowly lightening to a messy rainbow wheel. When he catches his breath, he bows properly. "You're welcome, uh...I'm Tag." Dusk's face is haggard, tired, pale and shadowed; he dips his head back to Kismet, wing folding back in against his back. A small smile touches his lips as he watches Lia looking up at the sky. "Stars are coming out," he points out quietly. "Hi. I'm Dusk. You'll -- meet all of us soon, I don't doubt. Is there anything you all need?" Gaze still turned upward, Lia smiles a curious sort of smile. "I wasn't sure they were real," she replies to Dusk's star comment. "Maybe...maybe they were just a story. 'Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.' Flying boys and fairy dust." Her tone remains a little distant until the man introduces himself, his name drawing an interested look in his direction. "Dusk. It is. You are? Do you have stars?" Her eyes take in his /wings/ instead of points of light, forgetting to give her own name or answer his question as those eyes widen. "Flying boys. Maybe /all/ the stories are real." Her left hand reaches out, fingers extended to brush at one of Dusk's wings. "Kismet. Kismet Darklighter." He glances up reflexively. "They're real, yeah. But no, I'm cool, thank you." Nevertheless, he makes his way toward the house with the others, stopping after he had made it only a few steps. "Who are they? The scientists. Are they really government?" "Stories /are/ all real." Tag is now extricating the failed bobby pins dangling from the mop of rainbow hair on his head. "Just not all of them happen in this world exactly." He does a double-take at Kismet's name, but is at once distracted when he tugs too hard on a knot of green and blue. "They're government. If they /weren't/, it'd have been a whole lot harder to get you out." He pauses a beat, shrugs, gives up on his hair. "Long story, that." "My name is Dusk," Dusk clarifies with a small smile, his wing curling gently into Lia's touch to brush back, fuzzy-soft against her fingertips. "You'll love Jax, when you get to meet him," he tells her. "He always has fairy dust. And he's got the map to Neverland drawn on his back." There is a slight uptick of his brows at Kismet's introduction, but he just nods. "Kismet. /Heh/. I guess it is." For a moment he's quiet as Tag answers, his lips pressing thinner. "Yeah. They were really government. Worked in our favour, this time." “You are all named /things/,” Lia finally declares after a moment of musing. “Tag, Kismet, Dusk, Dark, Light. I am only Lia. Maybe...the stories only happen where there is sky.” Tag's distinction is a bit too fine for her to process fully, her arm curling tighter around her doll. Her eyes track upward again, but only for a moment, before they are back on Dusk's wing. Which /moves/. Her face brightens with child-like delight as she moves closer to the wing, stroking against it with her full hand. “Jax...not...Peter? Does he fly, too?” Kismet frowns. "I don't understand. But I guess I will, eventually." He looks at Lia and smiles, briefly and wearily. "Guess we all have /some/ catching up to do. What a difference a year makes." This said, he enters the house. "My name's a /verb,/ too," Tag points out. "You don't /need/ a sky for stories, but it sure is nice to have. Jax...doesn't usually fly without assistance." He looks at Dusk, brows knitting with concern afresh as he bites down on his lower lip. Whatever inspires this, though, he leaves unspoken. "I'm gonna--go eat something, maybe." He gestures vaguely in the direction of the house with his water bottle. "But hey, Lia..." His smile is wan and haunted, but gentle. "Welcome to the bigger story." "Jax --" Dusk's eyes drop to the ground, a slow breath shivering out of him. "Jax helps other people fly. He's got all the fairy dust. And all the happy thoughts." He swallows, hard, his arms tightening slowly around his chest. His wing continues to brush, slow and gently, into Lia's touch; it curls softly around her shoulders when she moves closer. "Lia's a good name. And the stories happen everywhere." His other wing gestures towards Tag, with those last words. "We're making them right now." “Catching up?' Lia looks confused at pretty much the entirety of Kismet's words this time. She is easily distracted by Tag and Dusks's talk of stories and flying. She nods, the more that is said about stories, the more she dismisses the number of times that she's been told something is just a story, or that she is confused and the thing she is talking about is a story and didn't actually happen. This world has /stars/ and flying boys. It could have /anything/. “Tinkerbell. Has all the fairy dust. A little light that talks music.” She smiles contentedly, leaning into the wing when it is offered, brushing further along its length. “He must be a boy fairy.” "You'll meet him, once we get home." Though Dusk doesn't sound as /certain/ about this, his eyes shifting back to the other van with a long heavy look. "He has light. He has all the light. He might be a fairy. I bet he'd say he was." He squeezes Lia gently, his other wing drooping against his back. "The world could have anything, maybe. Every time I think it’s done surprising me, it manages to again." He frowns for a moment, down at Lia. "-- how long were you in those cages?" “I would like to meet a real fairy,” Lia asserts solemnly, wide brown eyes focused in on Dusk now. “I think it might be nice to fly. And to have happy thoughts.” She nuzzles into Dusk, her expression that mix of tired and excited that children have when they are trying to avoid bedtime. “These were different rooms. New rooms with a Jeremy and a Teddy. But there are always rooms. Sometimes there are people and sometimes there are not. And sometimes the people are not as nice as Jeremy and Teddy. Jeremy teaches me hand-talking and Teddy lets me pet his fur. It is soft!” She looks a little distracted, distant for a moment. “The keepers are usually not nice. I have had many. Many many. Different rooms, different keepers, but always Lia.” Her head tilts slightly. “They like to see my magic. But only when they tell me to. Different keepers to see different magics. Or when Lia’s body gets older. Sometimes different keepers then.” “Hand-talking?” Dusk considers this for a moment, then signs slowly, ‘You understand me?’ There’s a sudden curious interest in his expression. “What magic do you have?” He signs this at the same time as he says it. There’s a small breeze that passes, cooler through the yard, and his wing curls just a little more snugly in a warm cloak around Lia. “It can be hard to have happy thoughts in there. But out here we’ll do our best to make sure you have reason for plenty of them, okay?” It is a fortunate thing that Lia is left-handed, as her doll is still quite attached to her right. She signs ‘yes’ simultaneous with a nod. “Jeremy asks me that /a lot/,” she adds aloud, seeming just now to notice that her other hand is too occupied for certain signs. “The magic that makes the dolls alive.” She looks back at Dusk. “You already have magic. No more room.” The statement about /being/ out catches her up for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. “We are not going to a new room?” “There’s lots of rooms,” Dusk continues to sign while he speaks, lapsing back into it out of old worn-in habit, now, long disused but easy to pick back up. “Living dolls?” This draws a briefly intrigued look out of him, studying the doll that is glued to Lia’s hand. “-- I think that should wear off an in hour or two,” he muses, though uncertainly, as he eyes the webbing. A small smile touches his lips. “We’ve all got magic. Everyone’s is just a little different.” He shakes his head, wing squeezing gently at her again. “No. I mean, there’s many rooms, but now none of the doors are locked. You can go in and out of them when you like.” Lia nods at the question of dolls. “Most dolls aren't alive, no matter how much they look like people. The doll-maker wanted very much to make me alive, and planned to use magic to steal the life from a boy, to make the doll live. But the girl tricked him by wearing my clothes, and the boy lived and...” Her brows knit in confusion for a moment. “I don't know how I ended up with the magic, then. Because he did not take life from anyone. That's not how the story goes. It was all the girl's trick. But I am alive. And I know how to put the magic in other dolls, and they can be alive. But it doesn't work on shapes that already have magic.” She pets at Dusk again indicatively. “Already full.” Her head tilts at the description of the new rooms. “I don't think I should like to go in any more rooms, please. I...want,” she pauses, making a face at this word, as if it is strange to say, “to watch the sky.” Dusk’s brows knit slowly together, as he listens to Lia, a faint puzzlement creeping into his expression. He takes a deep breath. Leans down, to press a light kiss to the top of her head. “You’re alive,” he settles on this perhaps as the most /comprehensible/ part of all this, “and I think from now you get to choose how the story goes.” His head tips up, looking towards the dusky evening sky where stars are starting to glimmer above the trees. “You’re allowed to want. And the sky’s not going anywhere.” The kiss seems to confuse Lia some, it being a gesture that she finds rather foreign. “It does, though,” she protests quietly against Dusk's reassurance about the sky. “Sometimes it goes away for a very long time. Maybe the old sky is gone...gone away. And this is a new one. But I like it, too.” “It doesn’t go away,” Dusk assures her quietly. His soft wing brushes in against her shoulder again. “Sometimes, it’s just harder to see it. But that’s where we all come in. Sometimes? Sometimes you just need a little help to get back to it again.”