Logs:Come Home With Me

Come Home With Me
cn: references to violence
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra, Kitty
In Absentia	2021-10-24 "And we're here for you, when you're ready."
Location <NYC> Bushwick - Brooklyn
There's not a lot of secrets around a place like Riverdale, a combination of vigilant security and the inherent gossip of a tight-knit community; it's hard for most people to come and go unnoticed. Harder still when you make your entrances and exits on giant wings. It's well enough known, then, that Dusk stopped by for the first time in some days, earlier this afternoon, that he packed his things from the room he'd been recently occupying, that he flew back off towards the southeast. Where he's gone is anyone's guess -- but given he isn't on the island, isn't in Riverdale, isn't around the Lofts, isn't at Isra's, options she might guess have narrowed to a very few. This particular cheery red brick rowhome is lively currently, music thumping loudly from the back porch (Doja Cat's "Need to Know"), chicken wings barbecuing, people spilling in and out of the house into the tiny postage stamp of a yard behind at intervals to grab food, shoo a scruffy mutt outdoors or back inside, smoke a joint. A young woman with hair wound in braids around her head is simultaneously tending the grill and arguing vociferously with a much older and calmer grey-haired woman in Spanish: "{-- has plenty of friends, he could go there! How long you think he's going to stay here for, then?}" -- the he in question is perched, currently, up on the edge of the roof, backpack between his legs and wings draped heavily against his back. Dusk is in jeans, black and blue striped long-sleeve tee, beaten up old Vans sneakers. He's pale, dark shadows beneath his eyes that look like it's been a while since he slept. There's a hand rolled cigarette between his lips, a lighter in his hand that he's flicking restlessly without lighting it. Isra so rarely walks significant distances when she could fly that it is perhaps easy to forget how well she does it. Her gait is smooth and graceful and perhaps just a touch predatory, her eyes blinking rarely and her tail swinging rhythmically to counterbalance the complex motions of her numerous and sometimes lengthy limbs. Her outfit is as eye-catching as she herself, today, a flowing pleated dress in sunset ombre, blazing yellow-orange at the collar that changes as it travels down to red and pink and purple and finally a deep starry indigo at the hem. She wears a blue nazar on a chain around her neck, the heavy round glass amulet sitting perfectly in her prominent jugular notch. As many stares as she is drawing now, it hardly compares to the awkward--both physically and socially--journey on the L train that came before. She stops in front of the rowhouse, wings rustling tight and restless behind her as she looks to Kitty, then looks up toward the roof of the building. 'He is probably up there,' she signs slowly, though it seems improbable that particular sentence would be difficult even for a complete non-signer to puzzle out. 'But, do you mind asking them?' This with an uncertain tip of her hand at the front door. 'That is more polite.' At Isra's side, Kitty is significantly less attention-grabbing in grey leggings, blue turtleneck tunic, and mesh sneakers, curly hair held back from her face with a wide fabric headband. Her gold Magen David pendant sits on her collarbone, matching the gold trim of her black crossbody purse. She looks intently while Isra signs, then looks up to the top of the building. Squints. "I got it," she replies out loud, trotting up the steps of the rowhouse stoop. Rings the doorbell, once, then again, just in case it can't be heard over the party out back. "Sorry to bother you -- I'm looking for my friend, I think he might be on your roof? Guy with wings?" The teenager who opens the door aaaalmost shuts it again when he sees Isra, his face scrunching up in an undisguised look of distaste. He does hold off when Kitty speaks, though, waiting with hand on the handle and foot tapping impatiently. She hasn't quite finished when he's sticking his head out the door, yelling up roof-wards: "Ryan. Ryan! {Get down here}." He's eying Isra -- eying her wings -- offering a shrug. "He ain't been too social, you might hafta go up." The door closes. Isra's ears press back at the teenager's reaction, her tail swishing just a little faster. She waits until the door closes, then gives Kitty a small shrug. Her wings shake out and stretch wide before pulling back to mantle over her. In case this was not invitation enough, she gestures Kitty over and scoops the smaller woman up in her arms without any apparent effort. She crouches and launches herself directly upward, and in just a few mighty strokes of her starry wings she's cleared the roof of the rowhouse. She hovers for just a moment before touching gently down and setting her passenger on her feet. Her eyes, though, are fixed on Dusk. "Oh, sure thing, thanks --" Aaaaaand the door is closed. Kitty turns around, signs 'He's up there' clumsily, like it isn't abundantly clear how that conversation went. She rides in Isra's arms like she's done this before with no apparent distress, but her eyes do go wide when she sees Dusk on the roof. She half turns to Isra as if looking for instruction, turns back to Dusk and signs 'hi.' Awkwardly; "How are you feeling? Less..." She trails off, clearly unimpressed with her own question. Dusk's eyes snap up when Isra comes into view, growing wider, his wings pressing even tighter to his back. His fist clenches tight, his shoulders hunching as he scoots back away from the others. There's a very soft rumble in his chest -- it cuts off almost as quick as it started, his head dipping and one fist lifting to circle his heart in a hasty apology. "You shouldn't have come." He darts a quick glance at Kitty. None at Isra. "Did Leo... are you okay?" Isra has no instructions for Kitty. Her ears press back low when Dusk growls, but she does not back away--does not move at all from the spot where she'd landed, wings still partly unfurled behind her. 'Why should we not come?' She signs this slowly, too, presumably for Kitty's benefit. 'You were sick. Then--gone. No one knew where. We worried.' Her taloned hands are moving faster by the end of this, shaky and agitated. Kitty steps forward a little more, occupying a little of the space between her two winged friends. Nods, slowly. "Leo got to me first. It's how we figured out, that you had -- it. Because I had it." She bites her lips, eyes darting back to Isra to catch what she's signing, back to Dusk. "Extremely worried," she echos out loud. Dusk scoots just a little further back. There's a slight drip-drip-drip from his clenched fist, lighter fluid leaking out of the now-mangled ruin of the lighter he'd been holding. 'Sorry,' he signs again, and aloud, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, but you can't -- you can't be --" His head shakes. "I hurt you," he says, softer. "I hurt -- a lot of people. I was gone for a reason." 'You were sick,' Isra repeats, expression unchanged but something plaintive in the droop of her wings. 'Hurt people, yes. That not...' She struggles for words, growling low and frustrated before finally settling for the English construction 'go away', even though she clearly realizes it is wrong. 'How they feel, how you feel, I don't know. But I'm not hurt bad. I'm fine. Gone, ok, but you don't need to be alone.' "We were sick. I got you sick. It wasn't you, not really, rabies --" Kitty stutters on the word, has to take a deep breath before continuing on, "-- it gets in your brain, it's not --" This sentence is also paused, but Kitty doesn't return to it. Her breathing is shallower, faster. "It doesn't mean you can't come back." Dusk's eyes do lift, now -- looking first to Isra and then settling on Kitty. "Right, the rabies. How many people did you kill while you were sick?" 'People hurt, died. But you still here. You come to family because you need help. I am also family.' Isra's signing is fast and jerky now, not particularly heavy on English or ASL grammar. A low, soft noise of distress rises in her chest. 'Come home with me. Please. For now. After, we see.' "I --" Kitty closes her mouth. Opens it again. "That's not -- I mean, I didn't myself but the rabies in the first place is my fault --" She sucks in a shaky breath. "Can you please --" Kitty gestures to Isra, signs 'come home' after she does. "Is it? How did you get the rabies?" Dusk shakes his hand irritably like he's only just noticed the mangled metal and plastic digging into his palm. He shoves the broken lighter in a pocket, wiping his hand off against his pants. "-- God, and DJ. Like things weren't hard enough for him already without..." He shakes his head. His wings unfurl slightly, then curl back around himself in a tight hug. "I hurt you," he says again, to Isra, "and I'm very sorry. But you have to go. I can't -- go with you." Isra does start growling now, a quiet bass rumble. 'Why can't?' Demanding, now--though not angry. 'If you want me to go, fine. Why have to?' She gestures at the white gauze peeking out from the cap sleeve of her dress. 'This hurt less than--" Her hands still again, her growl rises. '--than I throw you away. That hurt more.' "I -- I gave Leo a panic attack, is how I got it. So, my inability to read the damn room is the root of-- " Kitty gestures to herself, to Dusk, to Isra's arm, "-- all of this. And I'm so, so sorry for having done this to you, but you can't stay away forever!" Dusk's eyes widen at the mention of Leo, his mouth snapping shut and his head bowing. His arms curl around his knees, fingers picking at a stray thread in their seam. "You have no idea what it's like," he says finally, another soft growl starting to rise under his words and just as abruptly truncated. "I want to hurt people all the time. That isn't rabies, that's just -- fuck. I don't know what help I need when my problem is my goddamn X-Gene has me eating people to live." His knuckles press to his mouth, and he swallows, hard. "I want you to go. Please go." Isra looks at Kitty when she explains the provenance of the illness. Her eyes do not widen, though her gaze is unblinkingly intense, and her tail lashes the air violently. She shakes her head. 'That, I don't know. But I know you.' She's signing slowly and deliberately again. 'You always hungry, never kill people before sick. You don't need to eat people. Just blood. We look for help. Please.' But she subsides now, ears flattened back, her growl dissolving into a faint, mournful whine. "Please," she repeats aloud, though the word comes out breathy and stilted, before lapsing back into sign. 'Sorry. Fine. I go.' This is sharp, vehement, but only for a moment. One of her wings starts to reach out for him, but then droops, gestures Kitty toward her, and shakes out along with the other as she half turns to the edge of the roof. 'I love you. Please come home. Some day.' Kitty's fingers curl into the fabric of her tunic, nostrils flaring. "Right, I definitely have no idea what it's like to be starved by my mutation." Her tone is sharp and dripping with sarcasm -- Kitty quickly shakes her head, some of the tension in her posture easing. Her attention shoots back to Isra when she speaks, eyes wide. Her grip on the hems relaxes, and she steps back to follow Isra to the edge of the roof. "People need you now. If you won't come with us, at least go to them." She jumps up onto the edge of the roof, looks back at Dusk with a sad sort of grimace. "And we're here for you, when you're ready." The look Dusk gives Kitty is very flat; the harsh growl that snarls up in his chest, less so. He doesn't say anything more, just closes his eyes against the tears starting to gather there and bows his forehead against his knees, wings wrapping around himself in a dark canopy that blots the others out of his sight.