Logs:Common Orbits

Common Orbits
Dramatis Personae Matt, Sera, Flèche	2021-02-27 "I am...different."
Location <NYC> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
The upper floor of this apartment holds the bedrooms; one master bedroom and three smaller ones. One has been converted to a lounge, couches and more books and a large desk by its window. The other two smaller bedrooms upstairs, in strange departure from the rest of the house's style, seem decorated more with younger occupants in mind. One of them, styled largely in purples and blues with a strong butterfly motif, has a lofted twin bed and an antique writing desk. The other is very green, its bedspread green-and-black striped; the walls are covered with a host of movie posters. Between the two bedrooms stands a bathroom, cheerfully decorated with colourful mosaic fish in its tiles. The master bedroom, in contrast to the paler, earthy scheme outside, is warm and rich, decorated in deep reds. The exquisitely crafted furniture is dark, with reddish undertones to the mahogany wood. The king-sized bed is stocked with an overabundance of pillows, and more cushions rest in the windowseat. One wall holds a spacious walk-in closet. A table, low to the ground, sits on a thick rug between the bed and the entrance, the right height for kneeling rather than chairs; the checked pattern carved into its surface marks it as a chessboard, though the pieces are not in evidence. The master bathroom adjoins the bedroom; it is large, done in black marble, with an overly spacious glass-walled shower and a similarly large jacuzzi bathtub. It is late, but the light is still on in Matt's room. Inside he sits propped up on a heap of fluffy pillows, reading a paperback--Spellbound by Allie Therin. He wears a white tee shirt with a red filigree heart bracketed by ornate capital A's in ace of hearts fashion. His soft brown hair has finally grown long enough to to muss, and though his form is still thin his cheeks are rosy. A squat glass of amber liquid sits on the nightstand beside the lamp that lights his page. Flèche lies curled again his calves, her paws twitching occasionally in her sleep. His power flexes out lazily from time to time, reflexively feeling for his siblings--for Sera in particular, finally dampening her power to give her some rest. Sera has been reading for a while in her own room, but far less peacefully than Matt, a restless loneliness spilling out of her every once in a while, though it's never long before she winces it back in again. At the sudden easing of the effort it takes to keep her power in, she sets her book aside and climbs out of bed. She pads down the hall toward Matt's, dressed in soft green pajamas with the Green Lantern symbol in white on the chest and grey-striped sleeves and matching grey pants, her own hair lying all astray. She hesitates at the door, hand upraised without knocking. Matt looks up from his reading when Sera stops in front of his door. He gives her a moment, then lifts the gentle press of his power, allowing the haphazard grasp of hers to reach him. His mind is calm, just a bit pleasantly fuzzy from the Scotch, and carefully, quietly welcoming. He closes the book, though it remains in his hands. Unleashed, Sera's power curls around and through Matt of its own accord, easing her restlessness and softening the edge of her loneliness while leaving her ragged sorrow in him. She turns the doorknob and slips inside, eyes wide. Closing the door as quietly as she can, she crosses the room to stand awkwardly at the foot of Matt's bed. "Was I keeping you up?" She's already gathering her power back in, but slowly, unable to disguise her curiosity. Flèche wakes and thumps her tail, uncoiling her lithe form to stretch her pointy muzzle toward Sera. Matt's vivid green eyes follow the girl; the same keen, ripping grief comes that always does at the sight of her, though somehow it does not actually ruffle his calm neutrality. His power quiets hers again, as he waves invitation at the expanse of unoccupied mattress. "Oh, no. Just absorbed. I'm sorry you're having trouble sleeping, though." He brushes his thumb over the fore-edge of his book. "{Luci's still up, if you'd like help with that.}" Sera swallows, tensing until the flood of Matt's emotions recedes beyond her power's reach. She sinks down to sit on the edge of his bed, reaching out to stroke the dog's head and scratch behind her ears. "That's alright." Then, frowning, she adds, "{Maybe later.}" Her fingers lace together in her lap, then unlace as she darts a glance at the book in Matt's hands. "{Is that good?}" Matt's gaze is steady even as he lifts his glass for a slow sip. "Mm. This depends on how you mean 'good', no?" He turns the book in one hand thoughtfully. Flèche leans into Sera's hand. "The craft is mediocre and the pacing uneven, but I like the characters, and the story is engaging." He gives a small shrug. "I like it well enough. It's no Wayfarers--have you finished those?" Sera peers at Matt's drink, but makes no immediate reply. "I think that's a good book," she concludes after a moment's consideration. "I'm about halfway through A Closed and Common Orbit. I like it even better than the first one. Lovey is so great." She's growing animated at this, her posture straightening. But then, a bit more circumspect, "You're..." She licks her lips, unsure, but there's no fear in her when she searches his eyes. "{Out of everyone, you're the least like him. My Matthieu.}" "It is a delightful book. I've not read it in some time, and might circle back soon." Matt was reaching to set his glass down, but hesitates and offers it to Sera instead. "Would you like a sip? It's quite sharp--an Islay Scotch." Her comment does not appear to ruffle him at all. "{Am I, though?}" This is soft, speculative, but not at all insistent. "{Like him?}" Sera accepts the glass -- that she needs both hands to hold it securely perhaps undermines her attempt to look suave and mature "I've had whiskey before," she insists and takes a generous sip, her face contorting at the flavor or the burn, or both. Swallowing with difficulty and schooling her face into appreciative smile, she returns the glass. "{You are like him in some ways. In other ways...}" Her fingers interlace again, slim shoulders hunching. "{It's like you're so intense it's scary sometimes, but you're also -- weirdly flat.}" Matt accepts the glass, his expression placid even though the wave of amusement passing through him is strong enough for Sera to pick up even with her heavily circumscribed biokinetic senses. "I am...different," he admits, reluctantly. "Emotional regulation is a very involved process for me, and I wish I could make that less frightening for you." His next drink is a gulp, and he sets the glass down quite deliberately after. "If you'd rather, I can suppress your power more--can suppress them entirely." Sera is quiet for a moment, eyes straying to the low chess table on its plush rug and bracketed by cushions. "Maybe he was like that, too. I couldn't feel him most of the time.}" She licks her lips. "He kept my power off whenever he could. It was more comfortable, but I also didn't improve much. I was afraid I never would. Then I came here and in just a couple of months I've learned so much control, at least compared to before." She chews on her lower lip. "{You're better at this powers stuff. The way you do it is helping, and -- well, I can deal with being a little scared.}" The swell of Matt's pride is again sensible to Sera, and beneath it faintly--so faintly, at least to her--deep horror and raw fury. "{I have been doing basically this exact thing at the school for some years, but even before that...}" He glances at his glass again, but does not pick it back up. "Let's just say I had some misadventures that forced me to get better at it." He sucks in a deep breath; lets it out. "I'm glad it's helping, at any rate. I've been trying to strike a balance between giving you comfort and opportunities to practice." His gaze follows hers, then flick back, his smile warm, his hand turning up to indicate the chess board. "{Would you like to play?}" Sera's power reflexively stretches out to ease Matt's fear and anger, clumsily compartmentalizing the emotions that bleed into her in the process. The latter maneuver, to Matt's senses, is quite obviously a crude attempt to replicate Lucien's meticulous inner organization. "{I'm sorry.}" She swallows, and does not specify what she is apologizing for. "It's a good balance, I think. It's easier to practice when everything isn't so overwhelming. Thank you." She perks up and glances at the board again. "{Oh, yes please!}" Hopping off the bed, she settles herself on one side of the table, opening the drawer to set up the pieces. "{I'm sure it will be very short.}"