(no subject)
8/22/2007
=NYC= Hidden Meeting Chambers - Lower Levels - Hellfire Clubhouse
Stark, spartan luxury wraps this round room in black and white, perfectly balanced to honor those who represent the colors here and in the outer world. The only furniture is an ebony table and its set of matching chairs, centered on the white floor within the plain white walls. The table's horseshoe opens at one end to permit supplicants and other displays at the Circle's center, and curves at its head in front of matched pairs of thrones carved with royal symbols: King and Queen, White and Black.
A stout metal door beyond the table's open end leads to the basement. Another, smaller door opens from the security watchpost.
[Exits : [Wa]tchpost and [Ba]sement]
[Players : Magneto ]
Leaned back against the thick slab of the ebon table that forms the room's centerpiece rather than seated in his throne, Erik is eating. Chinese food, to be precise. You can tell from the metal chopsticks, which he is attempting to his with only moderate levels of success. The bowl cupped in his left hand is filled with rice and beef and shrimp and whatever else the chef saw fit to toss in. The rice is particularly difficult, as it seems disinclined to stick together. He watches it fall back into the bowl between slightly parted sticks and looks dismayed.
*attempting to use
Perhaps Sabitha should be amused, when her pawnish escorts deposit her inside this room and fade away into the background, leaving her to face the King. The reality of her expression is somewhat less, however, instead settled into resigned, reluctant patience. The door closes behind them, and Sabitha stands silently with hands grasped loosely together before her and dark hair left to hang loose down her back.
Dressed in elegant shades of ashen grey, darker about the collar and tie, Erik lifts his brows at her entry, and turns to set his late dinner aside, perhaps in the hope that he may later acquire a fork. "Ms. Melcross. Pleased to see me?"
Sabitha blinks once at the man before her, momentarily baffled by the query and silent in response until she finds a reply. "I suppose that depends on why I'm seeing you."
"I thought you might enjoy a change in scenery. Familiar territory. Sentient company." A small half-smile spared his own reasoning, Erik makes no move to approach. Content, apparently, to remain resting where he is. "I trust you're being treated well."
"Familiar territory?" Sabitha's brows lift just slightly and then settle low again as her jaw tightens at the query-turned-statement. "Save for the part where we're prisoners," she agrees lowly.
"Prisoners?" Brows etching upward again, Erik cannot help but look somewhat amused at her tone. "My dear, you must trust me when I say that you have no understanding of the term. Now."
Sabitha huffs a soft snort and presses her lips into a thin, expectant line.
"I thought you might be interested to know that your world's Erik Magnus Lensherr seems to have vanished. Completely. Which would, of course, be less of a problem if I didn't think he fully intended to commit genocide at the earliest opportunity." This delivered as if one might deliver news about the weather, Erik watches closely for any sort of reaction, jaw hollow and cold eyes narrowed.
There is a faint, surprised widening of her eyes at this news, and for a moment Sabby looks deeply suspicious before it fades into thoughtfullness. She's silent for a moment before she observes, "You don't agree with his cause?"
"I agree wholeheartedly. I believe that humanity is a plague upon this planet, and that the vast majority should be murdered on principal. However. I cannot say that I am prepared to shovel entire families into vast, rotting piles at this particular point in time." Again there is that smile, and Erik glances down to push off of the table at his back. "You are?"
"I have," Sabby reminds quietly, gaze fixed firm on Erik.
"So," reminds Erik, "have I."
"Then you should know better than to call what happened in my world 'genocide'," Sabby responds, gaze bright green while she studies him.
Magneto paces closer, curious more than he is threatening. Wiry and scruffy rather than broad and clean-shaven. "What would you prefer that I call it?"
"A city is not a race. What happened to Manhattan was--" Sabby hesitates and then breaks off, gaze turning away to study the room rather than Magneto. When she picks up again, it is in another direction, and spoken quite softly. "Haven isn't the base for some mutant crusade. It's just someplace we can have a home. We wouldn't fight if we didn't have to."
"Do you think he would not have encompassed the entirety of America of he could have? My intention was not to insinuate that you had no choice. I am merely interested in determining where your loyalties lie." Erik circles wide around her back as he speaks, watching carefully all the while.
(OOC) Magneto says, "if he could have"
"I think that if he wanted the entirety of America, we would have advanced further than Manhattan in the past two years," Sabby answers, uncomfortably stiff. She draws her arms up to fold them under her breasts and falls silent for a stretch of time. Eventually she answers, "You want to know if I would help him?"
With no argument for that, Erik does not invent one. He pauses around her shoulder, and eventually replies with a rather simple, "Yes."
"I never wanted to be a warrior," Sabby answers, shoulders hunching forward away from Erik as he pauses. "I don't want to start a war. If that's what you're asking."
"He may be trying to enlist others. It would be impossible to have recovered everyone who happened through the portal." With that simple explanation, he moves slowly past, heading back for the table. "If he has managed this twice before, it will not take him long to finish a third time."
Sabitha remains silent, gaze tracking his progress toward the table once more as she shifts uncomfortably.
Magneto turns to resettle himself back against the polished surface when he reaches it, and his bowl is lifted once again. He looks tired. Distracted. "Anyway. Have you eaten?"
"No," Sabby answers, rocking back on her heels. After a moment she adds, "Bahir and I usually take our dinners together." Along with everything else.
"Of course." Chopsticks prodded ineffectually into fluffy white rice, Erik frowns. "Your escourt should be waiting at the elevator. There is no other way out, and he is a telepath."
Sabitha blinks at Erik for a moment, clearly baffled as she rubs fingers against her elbow. There is speech on her lips - it gets so far as "I wouldn't--" before she breaks it off, clamps it behind tight lips, and turns it to a stiff nod as she turns to go.
"Wouldn't what?" Erik inquires blandly after her back, pepper steak hanging limp from the chopstick's grasp.
Sabitha shakes her head as she steps through the door, clearly having thought better of the impulsive reply. Instead she answers, "Enjoy your dinner."
"I shall." Rather than take a bite, however, Erik pauses. Still watching. "In the meanwhile, I advise you to treat the others you encounter with the respect you have given me, or the next conversation we have will be markedly less cordial."
Sabitha gives no reply. Her steps toward the elevator are evenly-paced, and she soon disappears in the company of her guard.
Likewise inclined to silence, Erik finally pushes steak and rice into his mouth around the corner, left to his thoughts, and his dinner.
Magneto has a chat with Sabby and shares some information.
8/22/2007
When Sabby returns, escorted by the same pawn who took her out earlier, she is quiet and her expression is darkly thoughtful. The door clicks closed behind her, and there is the familiar sound of a lock turning over as she lifts a hand to scrub it over locks of loose, dark hair and then drops it to her side, gaze lifting in search of Bahir.
Bahir is not hard to find. He is stretched across the bed, with a newspaper folded before him. His hair is damp from a recent shower, and his head is lifted toward the door from the moment it opens. He holds Sabitha's gaze, and then arches an eyebrow at her. << Well? >>
Sabitha frowns slightly as she sights him, although there is a slight easing of her expression, relief that rings true every time she returns and finds him still here. << Magneto, >> she explains, and bafflement colors her mental tone as she crosses toward the bed, shedding shoes as she goes. << Have you spoken with him much, since we've been here? >> A pause, and then she clarifies, << This one. >>
<< Not really. >> An uncomfortable squirm touches Bahir's thoughts, and he pulls away from it. << It's weird, to see him. He seems -- older. Broken. Something. What did he have to say? >>
<< An entirely different person, >> Sabby agrees on a wisp of thought as she settles at the foot of the bed, curling her legs up under her. << Apparently /our/ Magneto is here, but missing. >>
"Mmm," Bahir murmurs, twitching the paper away to fold it on the floor. He stretches to take up the room the newspaper previously occupied, turning toward her. << Weird to think of him abandoning Haven. How long as he been here? >>
<< I know, >> Sabby answers, leaning back on the brace of her arms to stretch next to him. << I told him - this him - that Haven wasn't about fighting a mutant crusade. That it's about home. But having our him here -- I don't know, >> she admits, mental voice dropping away. << It makes me wonder. >>
<< --wonder what? >> Bahir asks, picking up the thread and straightening to eye her closely.
"What it's all about," Sabby voices softly, glancing toward him. She pulls in a breath and then adds, << I don't know how long he's been here. I'd think before the Guard got involved. This one is convinced that he's out to commit-- >> There is a pause, needed for the necessary mental irritation to work up properly, before she finishes, << Genocide. >>
Bahir scoots over at the glance, sliding a light touch around her waist in the lazy droop of his arm. He pulls her in as he sits up to settle next to her. << How? All of them? He really thinks so? >>
<< I have no idea, >> Sabby admits, leaning automatically into the brace of Bahir's touch. << He said that it wouldn't be difficult to do it a third time, so I assumed the machine. I can't imagine that he could get it strong enough to really do-- /that/, though. >> A brief pause and then she turns toward him to wonder uncertainly, << Do you think he wants to? >>
Bahir looks away, frowning at the paper. << I wouldn't know. But I wouldn't doubt it. >>
<< That's a big difference, >> Sabby murmurs, unsettled. << Between making a place for us and killing /everyone/. >>
<< If Magneto wanted to make a place for us, he could've started a farming commune somewhere, >> Bahir sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. << He killed a city of millions. How far from there to a species he hates and has fought against his whole life? >>
<< Could he have? >> Sabby wonders, mental voice making clear her doubts. << There is a difference, >> she insists. She doesn't pause for long before turning the conversation by adding, << He wanted to know where my /loyalties/ lie. >>
<< Once you've taken that first step, I imagine the other steps start to look smaller and smaller. >> The thought is not a comforting one, so Bahir leans in to draw comfort from her: he presses against her, sliding a hand up her spine as he bends to press a kiss at the nape of her neck and breathe in the scent of her hair. << Did you tell him anything about Frost? >>
Sabitha shakes her head a bit wildly, leaning it forward at the touch of lips against her skin to send her hair tumbling forward over a shoulder. << I told him I have no desire to fight a war. Maybe I would have done better to pledge allegiance to him -- to this -- but-- >> Her train of thought trails off and she arches back against the press of his hand.
<< Yeah. >> Bahir leans against her, a warm presence, and slides his thumb up her back. << So we wait, still. We should tell Frost about Magneto. >>
<< Yes. >> Sabby breathes out slowly, calmed and steadied by his touch, and she gives a half smile as she adds, << They're expecting us to run, I think. He warned me that there was no other way out when I left the room. >>
Bahir smiles slightly. << It doesn't matter if they are expecting us to run. They won't be expecting Frost. There's a way out. They'll see. >>
<< They underestimate us, >> Sabby stares with a fierce pride and a deep-set loyalty that twists around Bahir and Emma both. << I find it baffling that he would think I would go without you. >>
<< He's Magneto, >> Bahir dismisses, painting a figure of cold, remote isolation. He couldn't POSSIBLY understand.
<< Is he loyal to no one? >> Sabby wonders wistfully, rhetorically, as she twists to rest a hand light against Bahir's thigh before she assures (perhaps needlessly) << I would go only if I thought it would be easier to come back for you. >>
<< I know. >> Bahir's voice is certain of her, and certain of his faith in her. << We can leave together when Frost comes. >>
Sabitha's responding silence is comfortable and anticipatory, and she shifts to lean into his grasp with lazy comfort. After a moment she observes, << I don't think they understand us. I don't just mean how we're here. I mean-- it's like they think the things we tell them, or show them, are some kind of movie or story of fantastical mass halucination. >>
Bahir snorts quietly, threading a light touch through her hair. << It almost seems unreal, after having been away from it so long, even to me. Every day here feels -- weird. Not right. Everything feels unreal, you know? >>
<< Yeah, >> Sabby breathes, and a quiet, breathy laugh follows his snort. << He had the nerve to speak to me about-- >> A bit of conversation replays in memory, arrogant tones noting that " I cannot say that I am prepared to shovel entire families into vast, rotting piles--" << They look at us and they hear what we say and yet they cannot see it. What we have been and what we have seen and what we /are/. >>
Pulling uncomfortably away from dead bodies of all sorts, Bahir focuses on that which lives and breathes beneath the touch of his fingers. << If a nightmare came up to me, I would try as hard as I could not to see it, too. >>
Sabitha is silent for a moment, banishing the images of mass graves from her mind as she slips an arm around him and snuggles close. << I don't like being treated like an ignorant child, >> she finally explains. << I don't know who or what I was here, when I d-- >> She breaks off and starts again. << But /I/ know what it is to be at war, and to lose someone and gain someone and to take someone's life because that's the only option. It grates to have /these/ ones act like we're nothing more than exotic curiosities to poke sticks at. >> Frustration rises as she presses her head against his shoulder and breathes out. << I know it shouldn't matter, >> she whispers. << But I can't not see ours when I look at them. I know it's not betrayal, but it feels like it. >>
<< I hate him, >> Bahir says dully, his counterpart reflected a moment in their shared thoughts with bitterness and loathing. << I could hate them. I don't want to be here. I can barely wait for Frost. >.
Sabitha's grip tightens and she lifts her head to turn into him more fully, bringing her thoughts under strict control in the fierce promise of a single word. << Soon. >>
<< Soon, >> Bahir echoes, and brings his lips to her temple for a kiss. Promised sealed, he offers distraction: "You should see the reports of flooding--." Conversation turns inane and harmless as he leans over to pick the paper up and spread it out before them both. His arm remains around her, though, and he ever remains tense: poised to be gone. << /Soon/. >>
A returning Sabby reports to her roommate.
=NYC= Hidden Meeting Chambers - Lower Levels - Hellfire Clubhouse
Stark, spartan luxury wraps this round room in black and white, perfectly balanced to honor those who represent the colors here and in the outer world. The only furniture is an ebony table and its set of matching chairs, centered on the white floor within the plain white walls. The table's horseshoe opens at one end to permit supplicants and other displays at the Circle's center, and curves at its head in front of matched pairs of thrones carved with royal symbols: King and Queen, White and Black.
A stout metal door beyond the table's open end leads to the basement. Another, smaller door opens from the security watchpost.
[Exits : [Wa]tchpost and [Ba]sement]
[Players : Magneto ]
Leaned back against the thick slab of the ebon table that forms the room's centerpiece rather than seated in his throne, Erik is eating. Chinese food, to be precise. You can tell from the metal chopsticks, which he is attempting to his with only moderate levels of success. The bowl cupped in his left hand is filled with rice and beef and shrimp and whatever else the chef saw fit to toss in. The rice is particularly difficult, as it seems disinclined to stick together. He watches it fall back into the bowl between slightly parted sticks and looks dismayed.
*attempting to use
Perhaps Sabitha should be amused, when her pawnish escorts deposit her inside this room and fade away into the background, leaving her to face the King. The reality of her expression is somewhat less, however, instead settled into resigned, reluctant patience. The door closes behind them, and Sabitha stands silently with hands grasped loosely together before her and dark hair left to hang loose down her back.
Dressed in elegant shades of ashen grey, darker about the collar and tie, Erik lifts his brows at her entry, and turns to set his late dinner aside, perhaps in the hope that he may later acquire a fork. "Ms. Melcross. Pleased to see me?"
Sabitha blinks once at the man before her, momentarily baffled by the query and silent in response until she finds a reply. "I suppose that depends on why I'm seeing you."
"I thought you might enjoy a change in scenery. Familiar territory. Sentient company." A small half-smile spared his own reasoning, Erik makes no move to approach. Content, apparently, to remain resting where he is. "I trust you're being treated well."
"Familiar territory?" Sabitha's brows lift just slightly and then settle low again as her jaw tightens at the query-turned-statement. "Save for the part where we're prisoners," she agrees lowly.
"Prisoners?" Brows etching upward again, Erik cannot help but look somewhat amused at her tone. "My dear, you must trust me when I say that you have no understanding of the term. Now."
Sabitha huffs a soft snort and presses her lips into a thin, expectant line.
"I thought you might be interested to know that your world's Erik Magnus Lensherr seems to have vanished. Completely. Which would, of course, be less of a problem if I didn't think he fully intended to commit genocide at the earliest opportunity." This delivered as if one might deliver news about the weather, Erik watches closely for any sort of reaction, jaw hollow and cold eyes narrowed.
There is a faint, surprised widening of her eyes at this news, and for a moment Sabby looks deeply suspicious before it fades into thoughtfullness. She's silent for a moment before she observes, "You don't agree with his cause?"
"I agree wholeheartedly. I believe that humanity is a plague upon this planet, and that the vast majority should be murdered on principal. However. I cannot say that I am prepared to shovel entire families into vast, rotting piles at this particular point in time." Again there is that smile, and Erik glances down to push off of the table at his back. "You are?"
"I have," Sabby reminds quietly, gaze fixed firm on Erik.
"So," reminds Erik, "have I."
"Then you should know better than to call what happened in my world 'genocide'," Sabby responds, gaze bright green while she studies him.
Magneto paces closer, curious more than he is threatening. Wiry and scruffy rather than broad and clean-shaven. "What would you prefer that I call it?"
"A city is not a race. What happened to Manhattan was--" Sabby hesitates and then breaks off, gaze turning away to study the room rather than Magneto. When she picks up again, it is in another direction, and spoken quite softly. "Haven isn't the base for some mutant crusade. It's just someplace we can have a home. We wouldn't fight if we didn't have to."
"Do you think he would not have encompassed the entirety of America of he could have? My intention was not to insinuate that you had no choice. I am merely interested in determining where your loyalties lie." Erik circles wide around her back as he speaks, watching carefully all the while.
(OOC) Magneto says, "if he could have"
"I think that if he wanted the entirety of America, we would have advanced further than Manhattan in the past two years," Sabby answers, uncomfortably stiff. She draws her arms up to fold them under her breasts and falls silent for a stretch of time. Eventually she answers, "You want to know if I would help him?"
With no argument for that, Erik does not invent one. He pauses around her shoulder, and eventually replies with a rather simple, "Yes."
"I never wanted to be a warrior," Sabby answers, shoulders hunching forward away from Erik as he pauses. "I don't want to start a war. If that's what you're asking."
"He may be trying to enlist others. It would be impossible to have recovered everyone who happened through the portal." With that simple explanation, he moves slowly past, heading back for the table. "If he has managed this twice before, it will not take him long to finish a third time."
Sabitha remains silent, gaze tracking his progress toward the table once more as she shifts uncomfortably.
Magneto turns to resettle himself back against the polished surface when he reaches it, and his bowl is lifted once again. He looks tired. Distracted. "Anyway. Have you eaten?"
"No," Sabby answers, rocking back on her heels. After a moment she adds, "Bahir and I usually take our dinners together." Along with everything else.
"Of course." Chopsticks prodded ineffectually into fluffy white rice, Erik frowns. "Your escourt should be waiting at the elevator. There is no other way out, and he is a telepath."
Sabitha blinks at Erik for a moment, clearly baffled as she rubs fingers against her elbow. There is speech on her lips - it gets so far as "I wouldn't--" before she breaks it off, clamps it behind tight lips, and turns it to a stiff nod as she turns to go.
"Wouldn't what?" Erik inquires blandly after her back, pepper steak hanging limp from the chopstick's grasp.
Sabitha shakes her head as she steps through the door, clearly having thought better of the impulsive reply. Instead she answers, "Enjoy your dinner."
"I shall." Rather than take a bite, however, Erik pauses. Still watching. "In the meanwhile, I advise you to treat the others you encounter with the respect you have given me, or the next conversation we have will be markedly less cordial."
Sabitha gives no reply. Her steps toward the elevator are evenly-paced, and she soon disappears in the company of her guard.
Likewise inclined to silence, Erik finally pushes steak and rice into his mouth around the corner, left to his thoughts, and his dinner.
Magneto has a chat with Sabby and shares some information.
8/22/2007
When Sabby returns, escorted by the same pawn who took her out earlier, she is quiet and her expression is darkly thoughtful. The door clicks closed behind her, and there is the familiar sound of a lock turning over as she lifts a hand to scrub it over locks of loose, dark hair and then drops it to her side, gaze lifting in search of Bahir.
Bahir is not hard to find. He is stretched across the bed, with a newspaper folded before him. His hair is damp from a recent shower, and his head is lifted toward the door from the moment it opens. He holds Sabitha's gaze, and then arches an eyebrow at her. << Well? >>
Sabitha frowns slightly as she sights him, although there is a slight easing of her expression, relief that rings true every time she returns and finds him still here. << Magneto, >> she explains, and bafflement colors her mental tone as she crosses toward the bed, shedding shoes as she goes. << Have you spoken with him much, since we've been here? >> A pause, and then she clarifies, << This one. >>
<< Not really. >> An uncomfortable squirm touches Bahir's thoughts, and he pulls away from it. << It's weird, to see him. He seems -- older. Broken. Something. What did he have to say? >>
<< An entirely different person, >> Sabby agrees on a wisp of thought as she settles at the foot of the bed, curling her legs up under her. << Apparently /our/ Magneto is here, but missing. >>
"Mmm," Bahir murmurs, twitching the paper away to fold it on the floor. He stretches to take up the room the newspaper previously occupied, turning toward her. << Weird to think of him abandoning Haven. How long as he been here? >>
<< I know, >> Sabby answers, leaning back on the brace of her arms to stretch next to him. << I told him - this him - that Haven wasn't about fighting a mutant crusade. That it's about home. But having our him here -- I don't know, >> she admits, mental voice dropping away. << It makes me wonder. >>
<< --wonder what? >> Bahir asks, picking up the thread and straightening to eye her closely.
"What it's all about," Sabby voices softly, glancing toward him. She pulls in a breath and then adds, << I don't know how long he's been here. I'd think before the Guard got involved. This one is convinced that he's out to commit-- >> There is a pause, needed for the necessary mental irritation to work up properly, before she finishes, << Genocide. >>
Bahir scoots over at the glance, sliding a light touch around her waist in the lazy droop of his arm. He pulls her in as he sits up to settle next to her. << How? All of them? He really thinks so? >>
<< I have no idea, >> Sabby admits, leaning automatically into the brace of Bahir's touch. << He said that it wouldn't be difficult to do it a third time, so I assumed the machine. I can't imagine that he could get it strong enough to really do-- /that/, though. >> A brief pause and then she turns toward him to wonder uncertainly, << Do you think he wants to? >>
Bahir looks away, frowning at the paper. << I wouldn't know. But I wouldn't doubt it. >>
<< That's a big difference, >> Sabby murmurs, unsettled. << Between making a place for us and killing /everyone/. >>
<< If Magneto wanted to make a place for us, he could've started a farming commune somewhere, >> Bahir sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. << He killed a city of millions. How far from there to a species he hates and has fought against his whole life? >>
<< Could he have? >> Sabby wonders, mental voice making clear her doubts. << There is a difference, >> she insists. She doesn't pause for long before turning the conversation by adding, << He wanted to know where my /loyalties/ lie. >>
<< Once you've taken that first step, I imagine the other steps start to look smaller and smaller. >> The thought is not a comforting one, so Bahir leans in to draw comfort from her: he presses against her, sliding a hand up her spine as he bends to press a kiss at the nape of her neck and breathe in the scent of her hair. << Did you tell him anything about Frost? >>
Sabitha shakes her head a bit wildly, leaning it forward at the touch of lips against her skin to send her hair tumbling forward over a shoulder. << I told him I have no desire to fight a war. Maybe I would have done better to pledge allegiance to him -- to this -- but-- >> Her train of thought trails off and she arches back against the press of his hand.
<< Yeah. >> Bahir leans against her, a warm presence, and slides his thumb up her back. << So we wait, still. We should tell Frost about Magneto. >>
<< Yes. >> Sabby breathes out slowly, calmed and steadied by his touch, and she gives a half smile as she adds, << They're expecting us to run, I think. He warned me that there was no other way out when I left the room. >>
Bahir smiles slightly. << It doesn't matter if they are expecting us to run. They won't be expecting Frost. There's a way out. They'll see. >>
<< They underestimate us, >> Sabby stares with a fierce pride and a deep-set loyalty that twists around Bahir and Emma both. << I find it baffling that he would think I would go without you. >>
<< He's Magneto, >> Bahir dismisses, painting a figure of cold, remote isolation. He couldn't POSSIBLY understand.
<< Is he loyal to no one? >> Sabby wonders wistfully, rhetorically, as she twists to rest a hand light against Bahir's thigh before she assures (perhaps needlessly) << I would go only if I thought it would be easier to come back for you. >>
<< I know. >> Bahir's voice is certain of her, and certain of his faith in her. << We can leave together when Frost comes. >>
Sabitha's responding silence is comfortable and anticipatory, and she shifts to lean into his grasp with lazy comfort. After a moment she observes, << I don't think they understand us. I don't just mean how we're here. I mean-- it's like they think the things we tell them, or show them, are some kind of movie or story of fantastical mass halucination. >>
Bahir snorts quietly, threading a light touch through her hair. << It almost seems unreal, after having been away from it so long, even to me. Every day here feels -- weird. Not right. Everything feels unreal, you know? >>
<< Yeah, >> Sabby breathes, and a quiet, breathy laugh follows his snort. << He had the nerve to speak to me about-- >> A bit of conversation replays in memory, arrogant tones noting that " I cannot say that I am prepared to shovel entire families into vast, rotting piles--" << They look at us and they hear what we say and yet they cannot see it. What we have been and what we have seen and what we /are/. >>
Pulling uncomfortably away from dead bodies of all sorts, Bahir focuses on that which lives and breathes beneath the touch of his fingers. << If a nightmare came up to me, I would try as hard as I could not to see it, too. >>
Sabitha is silent for a moment, banishing the images of mass graves from her mind as she slips an arm around him and snuggles close. << I don't like being treated like an ignorant child, >> she finally explains. << I don't know who or what I was here, when I d-- >> She breaks off and starts again. << But /I/ know what it is to be at war, and to lose someone and gain someone and to take someone's life because that's the only option. It grates to have /these/ ones act like we're nothing more than exotic curiosities to poke sticks at. >> Frustration rises as she presses her head against his shoulder and breathes out. << I know it shouldn't matter, >> she whispers. << But I can't not see ours when I look at them. I know it's not betrayal, but it feels like it. >>
<< I hate him, >> Bahir says dully, his counterpart reflected a moment in their shared thoughts with bitterness and loathing. << I could hate them. I don't want to be here. I can barely wait for Frost. >.
Sabitha's grip tightens and she lifts her head to turn into him more fully, bringing her thoughts under strict control in the fierce promise of a single word. << Soon. >>
<< Soon, >> Bahir echoes, and brings his lips to her temple for a kiss. Promised sealed, he offers distraction: "You should see the reports of flooding--." Conversation turns inane and harmless as he leans over to pick the paper up and spread it out before them both. His arm remains around her, though, and he ever remains tense: poised to be gone. << /Soon/. >>
A returning Sabby reports to her roommate.