Logs:OK

OK
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra
In Absentia	2021-11-12 If you still want me to leave you alone, I will.
Location <PRV> Isra's House - East Village
The facade of this quaint rowhouse has been restored to its early 20th-century glory, and the interior is coming along nicely, too, with meticulous gold detail in the white wooden moulding contrasting with black galaxy granite flooring. The entry hall spans the first and second floors, pillars and openwork staircase drawing the eye upward. The living room and the dining room opposite are both newly furnished with gorgeous handmade pieces, all rich dark wood set with mosaic stars whose grain is so reflective they look like organic gems. The dining table is long and oval and ringed with matched chairs of different designs, to accommodate a variety of body shapes. The white sofa is plush with low backs, shaped like a crescent moon that curves around a circular coffee table. The early drizzle has cleared up into a brilliant autumn afternoon, the freshly cleaned foliage looking especially bright in the sunlight. The french doors to the balcony of Isra's bedroom have been thrown open, although she is not out there right this moment, nor on the roof deck above. For all the comfort and convenience of her home office, Isra is sprawled across her large, sumptuous bed with a laptop propped up on a stack of books and her tablet tucked against the curled phalanges of the the wing she has tented up over herself. The other wing is, along with her tail, draped lazily behind her, off the bed and onto the floor. Her skin is still slate gray and her wings night-black and dotted with stars, though it and the gleaming hematite of her horns and talons could probably use some touching up. She wears only a simple white asymmetrical wrap dress, slinky and soft. The sound system is playing "Mercury, the Winged Messenger" from Holst's Opus 32. The tip of her tail twitches in time to the bright lively strings. There's a shadow on the balcony outside, small and growing larger; a flapping of wings, a gust thrown through the open doors. Dusk's actual landing is fairly quiet, touching down lightly outside and folding his wings behind him. He's in old brown corduroys, a black and grey waffle-weave long-sleeved tee, one arm folded across his chest and the slight hunch of his posture a little diffident. His chin lifts to Isra, but he doesn't enter. Isra almost certainly recognizes Dusk's approach well before he actually alights, but she does not look up until then, retracting the wing that had half covered her from view and pushing herself up with the other. Her expression does not change as her eyes take him in top to bottom, but her free wing gestures him in as she rights herself the rest of the way. 'Are you OK?' Face still more or less blank, she supplies the interrogative on her hands. There's a noticeable hesitation before Dusk enters, and even when he does it isn't far, stopping just inside the doorway. "Fine," comes both aloud and signed, the follow-up just spoken: "Mostly fine." 'You?' Isra has righted herself, one wing half-mantled to hook its claws over the sturdy frame at the foot of her bed, the other curling around herself reflexively, then uncurling so she can sign. 'Fine. Thesis is annoying. But, fine.' She gestures at her laptop. 'Revisions. I'm glad you're OK. From the raid. And from before.' Her ears press back. 'I am sorry I bothered you.' "What?" Dusk's eyes open wider, something startled in his expression. His thumblcaws flick sharply, wings pulling tighter against his back, and for a very brief moment a frown pulls his brows deep. It passes as he straightens, shaking his head. "You don't need -- That's not what I came here to -- sorry." His hand lifts, fingers scuffing through his hair. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything that happened with DJ, and hurting you -- I'm sorry." His hand falls back to curl around his chest again, but then just drops to his side a little helplessly. "I'm not -- sure I'm okay from all that but I'm working on it. I -- think I need to work on it alone." 'OK.' For a moment Isra does not say anything, but then perhaps she realizes she should perhaps supply more than that. 'You did not hurt me that badly, but I knew you would not be OK. I knew, that would be hard. I wanted to help.' Her brows furrow deeply. 'You told me to leave you alone, before. If you still want me to leave you alone, I will.' Dusk shifts his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Yes -- I mean, no. I mean, I don't mean that. I mean we should break up." A soft growl catches briefly in his throat, truncated as soon as it begins. "I mean we're breaking up." Isra does not answer for almost thirty seconds, and she does not look at him when she finally does reply, 'OK.' Her wing curls back around herself. Dusk is silent through this pause. He only blinks at Isra's answer, dips his head slightly. He says nothing further after that -- only turns, slipping back out onto the balcony and taking off as quietly as he came. --- (Quite some time later...) (Isra --> Dusk): Why? It takes a good while before an answer comes. (Dusk --> Isra:): There's a lot of shit I need to figure out, and I feel safer doing it on my own. It would probably be on the order of a few hourse she replies. (Isra --> Dusk): What does it mean, to figure it out on your own? This time, the answer comes quicker. (Dusk --> Isra): Don't know yet. Figuring that out, too. After an even longer delay than before: (Isra -->> Dusk): But you know you have to leave me to accomplish this? Once again, a quick reply. (Dusk --> Isra): Yes. (Dusk --> Isra): No. (Dusk --> Isra): I don't know. I don't really know shit right now, but the fact you keep pushing back against it when I say I need space makes me think so. (Dusk --> Isra): I hurt you. I could have seriously hurt you AGAIN that day you came by with Kitty. I'm NOT safe, but I'm trying to be. (Dusk --> Isra): I *don't* know what that looks like right now! (Dusk --> Isra): But it probably includes listening when I say please go because love? Doesn't stop you from getting dead if I lose control. Once again a slow one. (Isra --> Dusk): Kitty would have kept us safe. I might have gone anyway, without her, but I would not have been so cavalier. I am sorry I did not leave at once, but I did leave and have not disturbed you a single time since. (Isra --> Dusk): Not even when I found you were going, after all. (Isra --> Dusk): I understand if you are frightened you might hurt me. I do not understand how seeking you out once is too much pushing back. (Dusk --> Isra): I'm sure DJ thought he'd be safe, too. (Dusk --> Isra): I'm sorry. Take care. Again, several hours later. (Isra --> Dusk): I do ask you to endanger me. I went. I said I would give you space. And I have. And I will. But please do not cut me out of your life. This time the silence stretches on -- and on -- the message left on read, and no further answer from Dusk.