Logs:I lie awake; I am like a lonely bird on the housetop.
| I lie awake; I am like a lonely bird on the housetop. | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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2021-10-19 "It's just been a really. Long week." |
| Location | |
It's a gloomy sort of day around Riverdale. The chill damp air, heavy grey clouds and intermittent showers are keeping people indoors, for the most part, its often lively main drag largely deserted. Maybe it's the quiet that's brought DJ out here; he hasn't been seen around town for a couple days but is here, now, one minute not and the next minute fluttering into being, leaned up against a low fence in heavy jeans, a warm lined flannel, boots, watching Ophelia where she's been nibbling at the grass. The goat lets out a low bleat, making her way to the fence in a much more prosaic fashion a moment later to happily receive a good rub between her horns. She looks sleek and fat and happy; DJ, like he's seen considerably better days, pale and sporting sickly bruising splotched down one side of his face, bandaging wrapped around his neck and disappearing down the collar of his shirt, his weight leaned on the fence in a way that suggests it's helping support him. Making her slow way down the sidewalk, Polaris had already passed the house from which DJ emerges, but when he blips outside she stops. "Never mind," she tells her companion as she waves one index finger in a skyward circle in a 'turn it around' gesture, "I found him." Judging by the hunch of her shoulders, she is not, perhaps, dressed quite warmly enough for the weather in a lightweight black canvas car coat, black jeans, and heavy black boots, all liberally festooned with steel hardware. Against the dreary sky, her dark clothing, and her pale, pale skin, the leaf green of her hair tumbling free and the rainbow pinwheel of her umbrella look all the brighter. She backtracks, faster than she'd been walking before--even this small exertion tells on her quickly, her posture pulling in further and her expression tight with pain--and makes sure they are within DJ's peripheral vision before turning to approach him. "Hey, uh..." she says, eloquently, perhaps distracted by the visible extent of his injuries, her wide eyes going even wider. "Oh my g--gosh." Leo has been trailing behind Polaris, something of a drag to his steps as, perhaps, befits the day. He seems to be dressed warmly enough, at least, in a soft peachskin jacket in black with cyan piping, cuffs, and hem, medium wash cigarette cut blue jeans and black chelsea boots. His shoulders tighten when Polaris says she found their target, and he's slow to actually turn, eyes dragging the ground as they approach. He doesn't look up, but Polaris's distracted exclamation tightens his shoulders further. DJ has dug a bag of sunflower seeds out of a pocket and is feeding a handful to an eager Ophelia when the others approach. He looks up -- then quickly back down, a flush in his pale cheeks, mottled around the bruising. "Oh -- uh. Hey. You --" The flush deepens, and it's a little stilted when he finishes, kind of sheepish, "... don't look so good." His eyes dart to Leo, quick, and his shoulders pull in as well. Quieter, "Hi." "Eh, it's just a flesh wound." Polaris was probably going for cavalier, but the slight lift of her tone makes her sound uncertain instead. "Organs count as flesh, right? You look like sh--not so good. Too." Her blush is even more noticeable than usual for her pallor. "How are you feeling?" She cringes. "Sorry if that's a really. Foolish question." "I'm sorry. About before," Leo says, in place of greeting. He still doesn't look up. "I'm -- I'm." But he falters. Clasps his hands. "You have rabies. I just came to -- to fix -- to fix --" But now his eyes do drag upwards, slowly, pulling up over the bandaging and settling on DJ's bruised face. Whatever his sentence was going to end, instead it just finishes in a quietly exhaled "...Sus." "No, I don't think that's what that expression means." DJ's smile is a little wan. A little wry. It fades away into shock at Leo's explanation, his eyes widening: "Rabies?! H--" The question dies away almost as soon as he starts asking it. He goes abruptly pale, his weight sagging more heavily against the fence and his fingers clenching hard against one post. His jaw tightens, too; he turns half away, gaze fixing out past Ophelia into the yard beyond. Clipped: "-- Oh." Polaris's lips compress and she starts forward when when DJ sags against the fence, then stops when he doesn't wholly collapse. "There's been several -- I mean, I'm a bit vague on the details for reasons, but--" She scrubs a hand over her face. "He's trying to find everyone who got expo--" This time she cuts herself off mid-word, her gaze flicking to the bruises and bandages, then down and away again. "--attacked." Leo closes his eyes slowly when the color drains out of DJ's face. His arms curl around himself, hand squeezing hard at his opposite elbow, when Polaris mentions being vague on the details. "I'm sorry," he says again, softly. "I'll try to be quick." He looks back to the bandaging at the side of DJ's neck, then lets his gaze drift away. To the goat, to the house, to anywhere else. There's a stretch where it seems like DJ isn't going to respond to any of this. He's just pale, tight-lipped, clinging to the fence with his jaw still set hard. There are tears glimmering in his eyes; he's looking very fixedly upward until finally he chances prising his hand away from the fence (he weaves, a little unsteadily when he does) to scrub his sleeve against them. When he does speak it's very abrupt. "-- Did you get to him, too?" Polaris finally does complete her impulse to step closer to DJ when he sways. At the question she looks back toward Leo, nonplussed "Who?" Her eyes are still wide, pupils dilating visibly, but her voice is gentle and even enough when she address DJ again. "Hey, do you wanna sit down for a bit, maybe?" "Dusk is better, yes," Leo is answering just about the same time Polaris is asking who. He's drifting a little closer to DJ, his expression kind of pinched as he does. His head bows and he amends right after: "Well. He's -- he doesn't have rabies, anymore. Tony -- Tony Stark -- picked him up. A little while after -- after --" He glances back to the bandages. "Were there others." Probably this is a question, but it comes out clipped and short as well. DJ nods a little jerkily when Polaris suggests sitting -- he sinks down right where he is, leaning back against the fence post with his knees against his chest and forehead buried in his hand. From the other side of the fence, Ophelia lips at the back of his collar. His eyes squeeze shut, his breath hitching. "-- Tony --" Just a small gasp. "Oh god. Oh god." Almost as soon as he's sat down he's trying to pull himself back up -- no more steadily than before. Polaris covers her mouth as if to muffle an exclamation, though no sound comes out. What little color had returned to her cheeks promptly drains away again. "Dusk?" she echoes, then echoes the next name even more incredulously, "Tony Stark? What the heck is he doing--picking people up?" She goes down onto one knee--sucking a pained breath in between clenched teeth--when DJ tries to rise. "You're sick, and you're hurt, and--" This time she does actually touch him, just a hand on his shoulder, far too light to actually restrain him even if he couldn't just teleport away. "Can this Tony Stark situation at least wait until he's uh..." She indicates Leo with a tip of her head. "...un-sickenated you? Or if it can't--is there someone we can tell?" "I got to one," Leo confirms quietly. "The others -- didn't survive. I think Stark was -- ah. I think he went out to find -- to make sure -- to catch --" His brow furrows. "... to stop him hurting anyone else. I think he's safe now. Stark -- he isn't calling the police. Unless that's..." He sounds extremely uncertain, here, "... what you wanted? Please stay, rabies is very dangerous." "... he's not?" DJ subsides back against the fence, leaning slightly against Polaris and looking a little dazed. "No, that's not..." Now he looks uncertain. His head bows, and he swallows, hard. "That's not what I wanted. I'm sorry. I just." He straightens, cheeks flushing dark, his "-- sorry," this time, as he situates himself more properly fully against the fencepost a bit more bashful. "It's just been a really. Long week." | |
