Logs:Worth

Worth
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt	2020-12-11 "{Who has he to turn to, here?}" (part of rift tp.)
Location <PRV> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. The hour has grown late and the house grown quiet, relative to the distant muted roar of the city outside, where Friday night is still going hard well after midnight has come and gone. Matt turned in hours ago, but the regular anxious flux of his power, still faintly sensible to Lucien, gives lie to any hope that he might be getting some much-needed sleep. Finally his slow, unobtrusive footsteps can be heard creeping back downstairs and into the kitchen. It takes him far longer than usual to prepare the tea that he finally does bring to his brother's door, at which he taps gently though not in the least tentatively. Sleep has been eluding Lucien as well, and though caffeine is exceptionally unlikely to help that particular situation he still looks grateful when he opens the door for Matt. He takes his mug without a word, cradling it close to his chest as he returns to the desk chair that he only recently vacated. His middle finger traces slow circles on the outside of the mug, and his chair sways slightly with his rhythmic back and forth rocking. "{You will need to sleep before Monday,}" finally comes, quiet, Lucien looking more at his tea than his brother. Matt slips inside and sinks down onto the futon, both hands wrapped around his own mug, now. The tea is still too hot to drink, but the delicate buttery fragrance of the Three Treasures oolong is a treat in itself. "{I suppose,}" he agrees, sullenly. "{You would think, as much as I had to drink earlier, that I might manage at least a couple of hours of it--and involuntarily at that, but...}" One hand turns palm-up, fingers splaying wide to loosely indicate both brothers. "{...here we are.}" His power starts to reach outward again, but he reels it back in this time and it coils sinuously into Lucien's. "{And you will be working all weekend, like as not.}" "{Here we are.}" Lucien's eyes flutter half-closed at the touch that curls itself into his mind. "{Oddly, the end of the world has not taken a hiatus for our personal troubles.}" His fingers clench harder against the mug. Ease slowly. Clench again. "{There is a growing chance Daw --}" He catches himself with a stutter-hitch of breath. "{-- DJ will have to remain in this world. Give up the only world you've ever known for the safety of others. I never imagined I would have cause to have such a discussion twice in -- a lifetime, let alone a week.}" "{Gods, and the longer that rift stays open the more opportunity he will have to...}" Matt's lips compress, and he does not follow this line of thought to its logical end. "{I cannot envy him that choice, if the data bears that out. I suppose it's not very much of a choice, if the rift will, without intervention, shortly destroy both our worlds.}" He blows across the surface of his tea, his power threading tighter in his brother's, its clenching as much for comfort as any practical function. Almost as an afterthought now Lucien can feel the frayed edges of Matt's nerves, his vast, drowning sorrow, and the frenetic aching emptiness that cannot be filled by the alcohol and caffeine he keeps pouring into it. "{At least--she has us, for what that's worth. Who has he to turn to, here?}" Lucien's eyes widen at that first mention. His lips compress in mirror of Matt's, and hot though it still is he lifts his tea to take a small sip. "{Goodness. Here? He hasn't so much as his own name. Give up everything to come be a ghost in a world you don't know, with no way to support yourself and nobody there to support you --}" His brows pinch, brief. "{Or die, and your world with you. A choice. But no. Not much of one.}" He lifts one hand to rub slowly at the hollows of his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "{At the very least I can ensure he won't starve. Past that --}" He pushes out a slow breath, and as he drops his hand his eyes settle back on Matt. "{I admit that at this moment, having us does not feel worth much, either.}" "{I am confident, between you and S.H.I.E.L.D., you could give him his own name,}" Matt says equably, "{or a name, at any rate. He might need that, if starving is off the table.}" He curls in tighter on himself, his grief growing suddenly more acute. "{I suppose if he wants no part of being a ghost, he might go somewhere else and start over. It's no less wide a world for not being his own.} He blinks back at his brother, a certain rare vulnerability in the guilelessness of his bright green eyes. "{You are saving two entire worlds while your own life threatens to disintegrate because frankly we rely on you overmuch to hold everything together.}" His agitation rises, notwithstanding his attempts to sooth it back down. "{Even so, you are here for her--for all of us. I think you of far greater worth than you have ever given yourself credit.}" "{Whatever choice he makes, I will see to it he has some guarantee of -- it is too much to say stability, but.}" Lucien doesn't meet Matt's eyes for long before dropping his gaze back to his tea. He lifts it, sips slow. "{You don't rely on me too much.}" There's a faint unsteadiness in his voice that is echoed in the small flutter that ripples across his mental landscape. "{Too much would be more than I can handle. If I'm handling it, it isn't too much.}" His rocking has stopped, though he's now back to tracing repeating patterns on the side of his mug. "{Those are the only options. Those are always the only options. Handle it, or -- don't. What else is there?}" "{I'm glad of that, such as it is.}" Matt closes his eyes and cradles his mug close, inhaling the fragrant steam that rises from the tea. "{More than we should, then. More than I want.}" He's calmed himself for the moment, at least, his power coaxing up a whisper of comfort beside the unsteady flutter in Lucien. "{Another option is you permit me to carry more of this. I am not so very sick now.}" "{Not so very.}" Lucien's agreement is quiet. Reflexively, at first, his mind pulls in on itself, careful compartmentalization solidifying against the echoes of feeling spilled over from Matt. His eyes turn up toward the ceiling, little though he can see the childrens' bedrooms through it. "{I imagine soon enough you will have plenty to carry all on your own.}"