Logs:Allí Esta Nuestra Estrella
|Allí Esta Nuestra Estrella|
"May you feel as magical every day of your lives."
Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most distinctive new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building.
Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction.
The signage outside reads "Multipurpose Treatment Room", but this space has been retrofitted to closely approximate a hospital room for patients who cannot for various reasons stay at a regular hospital but do not need to extensive safeguards of the hazardous patient rooms in the basement. It's large enough to accommodate two beds and a variety of specialized equipment, and theoretically can be converted to other configurations although it is needed often enough for in-patient use that mostly the beds remain.
Making Isra comfortable in any bed is not necessarily a trivial matter, with half again as many limbs than the average human and a tail to boot. Doing so when she is injured and hooked up to monitors and fluids is an entire other level of impressive. Mendel Clinic's staff has clearly done their best in this regard, piling the bed high with pillows and positioning aids and dragging in two padded chairs so that her wings where they drape off the sides of the bed do not end up on the ground where they might accidentally be stepped upon.
She still looks positively miserable.
The golden gleam of her horns and talons now serve only to highly the pallor of her gray skin, and there's a keen predatory look in her eyes that bespeaks hunger to those who know her well. Someone has brought her laptop and tablet, both of which are sitting on the table beside her bed along with a small scattering of stuffed animals and a bunch of pastel origami flowers in a rainbow-swirl vase.
The farther bed in the room is curtained off for the moment, its occupant quiet. Neil deGrasse Tyson's 'Cosmos' is playing on the wall-mounted screen, muted, with the captions on, but she isn't paying it much mind, toying with a blob of night-colored goo dotted with tiny glimmering stars, sinking her talons deep into it and letting it ooze between them.
The door opens, spilling a very brightly garnished pair of sharkpups into the room. Shane is in the lead, dressed nattily in a crisply tailored suit, his tie dotted with glimmering fish; there's strings of jasmine and hyacinth flowers around his neck and glittering mardi-gras like beads in the shape of stars. He makes a beeline for the bed, unstringing one of the plastic star-garlands from his neck to drape it around one of Isra's horns; the other horn gets a draping of hyacinth blossoms. "You're really bringing in the season with a /bang/, huh?"
Behind Shane, B is quieter -- no less colorful, though. Bright pink and black skirt, a rainbow color-block sweatshirt, stripey rainbow thigh-high socks, very bright chunky purple and pink sneakers. Her arms are laden with canvas shopping bags, the rich smells of food wafting up from them. "Do you -- can you eat? You're not on, like, no-food-drugs, are you?" She looks vaguely horrified at this thought.
Rasa brings up the rear, dressed in flowy garments, bright red with a black vest, painstaking embroidered with a rainbow of butterflies. Ze is also wearing a headscarf that matches hir gown and another in translucent red, which covers hir face. Ze carries a few bags hirself, but most prominently carries a planter of wheat grass, the sprouts vibrantly green even under the fluorescent lights. "Happy Spring, Isra," ze offers, grinning brightly. "We came to visit."
Isra's ears prick up when the door opens, and the tip of her cramped tail twitches under the edge of the covers. "I do not know if I can claim all credit for this particular /bang/," she replies softly, tilting her head one way, then the other, to receive her decorations. "They did not permit me any food until this morning, and I haven't quite caught up." There's tone of profound resentment in this. Her pupils dilate and she ceases blinking altogether, sniffing the air. "Happy Spring, indeed--and happy birthday to you two. I regret that I will miss out on a proper party, but I do appreciate the visit. Oh, and Ryan is sleeping..." her eyes dart toward the closed curtain. "Though I doubt he will wake easily, with the pain medication."
"Are you kidding? The party's just starting, I'm pretty sure 21 means we have the right to party all /year/." Shane studies Isra's assortment of wires and tubes carefully before clambering up onto the bed to settle himself beside her. "We got enough food to make up. Rasa generously had hir New Year just in time for birthdaying so everythings fucking /delicious/."
"Right. I'm sure ze scheduled it on purpose." B's gills ripple faintly in silent laughter at this. Ze goes to move aside some of the flowers and stuffed animals on the bedside table, setting out containers of food -- spiced lamb, fried fish, herbed rice pilaf, star-shaped pastries stuffed with fruits and nuts, stuffed grape leaves.
Rasa sets down hir grass near Isra as well, snagging Ryan's bedside table for the purpose. Ze lays out a mirror and some origami fish and birds, flowers in seedling pots on a copper tray, dusting the whole configuration with star shaped confetti. "Well, what can I say? When you two were born, the stars aligned and the northern hemisphere woke from it's dread winter and embraced life again."
"I do not think you need accumulate any particular number of years for that right," Isra says equably. "And you haven't exactly had a storied past of waiting for permission to party." She curls her wing around Shane, snagging one of the wires for a monitor in the process and growling quietly in frustration. "/This/," she says, reaching up to gingerly unhook the line from her thumbclaw, "has been my entire day. Except with more nurses rushing in to make sure I haven't died." She delicately plucks up one of the star-shaped pastries with the tips of her talons. "It is good timing, on the part of new year, anyhow. You all look spectacular, and my day certainly could use a few more stars." There's little variation in her tone here, but her relative absence of expression looks relaxed and earnest, for all her pallor. "Any plans for tonight?"
"/Woah/ you make us sound magical." Shane sounds /delighted/ at Rasa's assessment. "I really hope it's going to get on that no more winter thing soon though because it's /slacking/ on that front. Had a fakeout yesterday and then today --" He gives an exaggerated thumbs-down. "Anyway I'd think sharing a room with Ryan would have even you sick of stars by now." His eyes widen at the mention of plans. "Tonight? We're going to finally find out what beer tastes like."
"Speak for yourself," B scoffs. "I have no intention of discovering the merits of alcohol. But," despite the fact they've already eaten a /big/ meal themselves she's still skewering a small tender chunk of lamb on one claw, nibbling at it delicately, "I think it will be fun to actually finally get to enjoy the club Shane's been running all this time. There's like. /Nowhere/ in Boston to go if you're --" She waves a hand at -- all of herself. "I have the best new spring dress, too."
"It's going to be weird, though. I've been up there so many times just cleaning and such after hours, seeing it with people is going to take some getting used to." Ze shrugs and starts picking at the food they brought. "Besides, Shane, B, you guys are my friends and it's your birthday. If you can't feel magical on your birthday, I don't know what the point of the day is."
Isra's brow ridges lift up as she levels a faintly concerned look down at Shane, setting the beads hanging from her horn to swinging and rattling. "The day I grow sick of stars, I shall need more extensive medicine than any doctor can supply. Besides, this is delicious." As if to underline the point, she makes short work of the rest of the pastry. Her ears flick forward, then relax, and her voice is quiet even if eerily doubled when she says, "May you feel as magical every day of your lives. I had Dusk fetch your gifts from my apartment, so they should be at Geekhaus, if you would like to have them before I get discharged."
"I hear it's more crowded once you add the people in. Also, pa's going to be tending bar and I don't know if that's really the /ideal/ drinking circumstances but on the other hand he makes a really good Moscow mule." Shane stretches his head up, teeth chomping almost lazily at Isra's horn as its garland rattles. "Gifts can wait till you're out of here. Between friends and delicious lunch and B being home the day feels pretty bountiful already."
B shifts awkwardly, cheeks flushing darker at this last. She stuffs the rest of her piece of lamb into her mouth, falling into silence and just busying herself with chewing it.
Rasa slips closer to B's side, jostling her with hir shoulder. "Just don't start making out with everyone and your pay should probably be okay," Ze offers, gathering up a handful of nuts and dried fruits. "So, what are they saying, Isra? When might you get out of here? Is it soon?"
Isra submits to being a chew toy with equanimity, keeping her head tilted to put less strain on Shane's neck. "I'm sure /Jax/ would rather you drink on his watch--and, as you say, he is skilled. I do wish you much joy of drinking and the dancing." She snags a stuffed grape leaf and eats it whole, rumbling with quiet satisfaction all the while. "I was lucky enough to avoid major damage to organs, and blessed with uncommon fortitude in general, so barring further complications they expect to let me leave either tomorrow or Sunday." Cat-green eyes flick to B, keen and hopeful. "How long will you remain in town, B?"
"My making out with everyone days are over," Shane informs Rasa -- as earnestly as is possible through a grinding mouthful of horn. He leaves off his chewing a moment later to just nestle back against Isra's side. "I only make out with, like, /half/ of everyone tops now. -- We'll make sure to have even /more/ delicious food once you get out. The cafeteria here sucks."
B has skewered another piece of lamb, though ze only regards it uncomfortably, not actually eating it. Shifting from one foot to another with a restless flutter of gills, ze furrows hir brows deeply before finally answering. In kind of a mumble: "I'm not, um. Actually going back."
"Really, Shane?" Rasa doesn't... quite sound convinced. "even with the whole first-time-drunk-in-public thing?" Ze snickers under hir breath as ze looks back at the food just in time to hear B speak up again. Hir skin ripples, waves of yellow peaked orange swells, dying down after a moment. Ze turns around quickly and studies B. "Did something happen? are you okay?"
"It pleases me to know you have grown /that/ much more selective, without giving up your particular exuberance in that area." Isra does not, perhaps, sound wholly convinced either, but seems content enough to let it alone as Shane tucks back against her side. At B's revelation, her ears press back and her tail makes an abortive attempt at a slow side-to-side sweep from under the layers of props and pillows. "We should love to have you back if that is what you want, of course, but I do share Rasa's concern..."
"What." Shane's eyes widen. He sits up straight, gills fluttering rapidly. "Are you -- how -- what -- did. Since when?"
B shakes her head, rubbing the palm of her hand down against her gills. "Yeah, I -- no, I'm fine, I just. Since now, I guess. I mean, for a while I've been..." She shifts her weight again, shaking her head. "Nothing /happened/. It just... it's not working out."
Rasa presses hir lips together in a fine line, hir features cooling from a salmon pink to seashell. Ze reaches out for B, watching for acceptance before placing hir hand on the sharkgirl's shoulder. "I... I'm sorry it didn't work out, but I am glad nothing terrible happened."
Isra cocks her head even further--to an angle that would probably feel awkward to most humans, if not outright uncomfortable. She begins to speak twice, but stops each time, not looking visibly distressed, though her eyes have ceased blinking. Finally, though, she manages, "I imagine a vast number of small things happened which caused it to not work out, but you needn't dissect it unless you so desire."
Shane doesn't say anything. His eyes go from wide to narrowed, sharply, his teeth clenching hard. The scratchy rustle of his gills against his collar continues, quick.
B doesn't move from the touch. Doesn't much lean into it, either, shoulders tense and hir brows still furrowed. "I'm sorry, I should have -- said something. Earlier. I just -- it's all been. A lot, I didn't..." Her head turns aside, eyes fixing on the wall. "Sorry."
"What? No. You're not... I'm not.." Rasa pauses and looks to Isra and Shane, eyes narrowing as Shane's hackles go up. "B. It's okay. You said something when you could. it's okay. We're here for you and happy to have you. There's nothing to apologize for."
"It has been," Isra agrees so softly that the lower of her voices to engage is only sensible as a ghostly bass vibration. The rumble lingers as a low, low growl, though she does neither attempts to restrain Shane in her embrace nor eject him from it, but she does settle one cool, smooth hand over his gills where they rasp against his collar. "You've got some things to figure out. Please know that you need not do so alone."
"Oh the /fuck/ there isn't." Shane's teeth snap back together sharply after this. "Fuck /that/ for a pile of bullshit, there's been a million and one times she might have said something before now. You even told Pa yet? Christ." He slides himself off of the bed, giving B and Rasa as wide a berth as possible as he stomps toward the door.
B pulls away from Rasa, takes a step after Shane. Stops, squeezing her eyes shut, both hands pressing down at the sides of her neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to -- ruin the -- um. I should... go." Her nose crinkles, her head shaking again. "I'll bring lunch by again tomorrow, okay?" she offers to Isra, apologetic.
"And said what, Shane? 'Sure sucks here, but I still want to make it work?'" Rasa shouts after Shane, frowning deeply. "B, wait.. you don't have to go -- unless you want to try and get to Jax before him. I guess.. you should run then." The metamorph inhales deeply just to sigh. Amber eyes shift to Isra, brows raised in confusion.
Isra does not visibly react to Shane's explosion other than to slowly straighten her head and shifts to allow him an easier exit from his situation when he goes. "Go safely," she tells B quietly. The rumbling in her chest does not abate, nor grow stronger. "I would appreciate lunch. Anything you might bring would be superior to what the cafeteria here supplies." The last finger of her wing stretches out to press against B's shoulder--a quick, heavy pressure, then gone. "I don't think they know, either," is all she has in answer to Rasa's unspoken question. Her expression still looks incongruously neutral, but her ears have pressed way back, giving her a hunted look. She looks down at the glittery goo she had returned to its canister (labelled 'STAR STUFF' in Spencer's crooked, blocky hand). "But she's got quite a few reactions coming, I'm sure."