Logs:Not Sanguine

Not Sanguine
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Joshua, Scramble
In Absentia	2021-11-07 "You shouldn't be here."
Location <BOM> Woods - Ascension Island
There's a small cabin tucked back here, quiet and solitary among a stand of aspens whose leaves have gone to brilliant yellow, currently. Dusk is quiet and solitary right now, too, out on the porch of the little cabin in soft blue and black sweater, brown corduroys, old Vans sneakers. He has his laptop on his lap, headphones over his ears, rocking slowly in a weatherbeaten old porch swing, fingers going a mile a minute over the keys. His wings are draped over the back of the swing, pink scars in their skin healing up better than might be expected in Normal Human Skin by now. Not solitary much longer. There was not a Joshua, and now there is -- he's at least respecting the quiet part of this equation, silent as he blinks into place opposite Dusk in jeans, off-white cable-knit sweater. His arms fold over his chest, and he leans up against the side of the cabin, just watching Dusk work with his brows slightly raised. Dusk looks up with a start, a twitch of thumbclaws, a duck of head considerably guiltier than it should be considering he's been caught doing... work. "Joshua." His shoulders are tense, his voice is tense. "Why are you -- you shouldn't be here." "How many times did you get shot, exactly?" It's a rhetorical question, Joshua's assessing senses flickering out over Dusk thoughtfully. "Heal fast or not you still should get looked at. I won't get in the way of your --" He glances to the computer, very brief. "Nerd." Scramble's approach is also quiet, but certainly by necessity not as quiet as Joshua's and certainly nowhere near as abrupt, given that approach is happening on foot. She's dressed down today, by her standards, a red top with intricate velvet burnout ringing the round collar and the bottom few inches of the slightly flared sleeves, a slim back jacket that laces down the sides, and black jeans that do the same, exposing red tights underneath, and sturdy engineer's boots. She's carrying a picnic basket in one hand, presumably the pretext for her visit. She freezes in her tracks when she spots Joshua, then recovers and stalks up to the porch. "What thee fuck are you doing here?" Her eyes narrow critically at Joshua. "He is actually here, right?" she asks Dusk kind off-handedly. "Weren't you just locked up? Yesterday?" "I had body armor," Dusk answers, just a little defensively -- though Joshua can no doubt feel the massive sprawl of bruising splotched wide across his back and sides. It, too, is healing up considerably faster than it would be on a regular person, but -- probably still hurts like hell. "He's here," he acknowledges when Scramble asks, and then, claws twitching again: "You shouldn't be here -- fuck." A soft growl undergirds his words. He closes his laptop, looking up at the others. "Yes. Yesterday he was in a cage and today he's decided to take up vampire hunting." "It's a very respectable calling for a cleric." Joshua doesn't look like he's leaving. He meanders over to take a seat on the swing beside Dusk, idly feeling out the edges of those bruises as he looks up at the aspen leaves. "And if I'm honest you're an easy mark." Slowly, he pushes the swing with one foot. A little too casual to be an afterthought: "Met another vampire. In the lab." "Me?" Scramble's brows lift up, up, up. But whatever she was going to say she cuts off with a sharp sidelong glance at Joshua. "My care package ain't as useful as his, but it's got more substances and fidget toys." She hefts the basket. "You done gone last minute on a raid already full-up on trauma and you won't even let no one see to you." This does not actually sound like an admonishment as she drops her forearms down to lean on the porch railing. "What kinda vampire? On a spectrum from Lestat to Anophelii?" "You," Dusk agrees, "him -- anyone. I just -- I don't -- think seeing me is a great idea, not when I -- " This thought breaks off into startlement: "Other vampire? You met him? Shit. I -- s'not often I run into others like me." This jars him enough out of his previous mood that he does, at least, lean forward to peek into Scramble's basket. "Don't sell yourself short, drugs are always useful." "Oooh." Joshua's brows hike up. "Nothing like you. Except in the hematophagy." His fingers snap, point to Scramble. "I'm leaning Anophelii. Had me take his power. That shit had me out of my mind." He's quiet, a moment. Still rocking the chair slowly. His eyes flick up, a swift tick between the other two and then back down. "... is that what it's always like." Scramble gives Dusk a flat look. "I'm always gon' have my own ideas and they ain't always gon' be great. Ain't yours, neither." Her basket is, as promised, replete with weed, molly, a bottle of Milagro tequila añejo, squishy plushes, a rainbow of Buckyballs, fidget spinners, cinnamon snickerdooles and a mesmerizing multi-colored water clock. "Well, Ionno what your new buddy's power's like, but mine all about driving me out my mind." She gives a languid shrug. "Or someone else's. Try to keep it balanced but I ain't hardly never stone cold sane without an actual fight." Dusk's claws twitch again at Joshua's reply. He plucks the tequila out of the basket, setting the rest aside for later and opening the bottle. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Shit, I've never met another. I mean, like -- other kinds of vampire, sure --" One thumbclaw flicks indicatively toward Scramble, "but if we're talking blood-blood?" One shoulder lifts. "Before Dirac, figured I was alone in the crazy. Fuck, did you --" His eyes have snapped back to Joshua. He trails off, head dipping. Takes a gulp of the tequila with a nod of thanks to Scramble and then offers it to Joshua. "... that was probably a weird session." "0/10. Wouldn't recommend." Joshua takes the bottle, turns it around in his hands to eye the label before drinking it. "This was -- definitely a blood type. Copied him and I could hardly think of anything else." His voice has gone softer, here, his hands tighter around the bottle. "Got a lot of respect for you all. Don't say that enough. Three seconds of that, I wanted --" His head shakes, a shudder not-quite repressed before he holds out the tequila to Scramble, brows lifting. "Respect us for the restraint?" Scramble doesn't sound incredulous, necessarily. "Folks sure do forget about that until we slip, and I really can't tell you if that's a credit to our self-control or their faith." She reaches out and takes the bottle. Takes a swig. Passes it back to Dusk. "Maybe if you kept it longer than three seconds, you'da learned to manage it. Maybe not. Took me months, even with Prometheus cheering me on." Dusk summons up a small smile for Scramble, thin and sharp-fanged; his large clawed wings are mantling just a little wider behind him. "Think folks forget it with you." He accepts the bottle back, tipping it toward her in agreement. "And we've had some time to get used to it. When this shit first started, fuck." His shoulders are growing a little more hunched, his eyes cast down away from the others. "-- not like I've exactly been the picture of restraint lately, anyway. Probably good it tends to be front of people's minds with me." The next gulp he takes from the bottle is much deeper. Joshua shakes his head, slow. "Nah -- nah. That guy? The one in there -- been there years. Had years. He said you don't control feeding, it controls you. Had a glee about --" He shrugs again, small. "Think managing it only happens if you care who's hurt if you don't." "Fair 'nuff," Scramble concedes easily. "I ain't forgot. Here I am draped on your porch railing anyhow. Can't speak for no one else, but you've earned a lot of trust from me over the years and that still stands." She tilts her head in Joshua's direction. "Same goes for a lotta shit, don't it? We learn to manage all kinda shit so we don't hurt people. Even then? You slip up. You hurt people." She shrugs her bony shoulders. "Don't make it ok cuz it's outta your control, and it probably don't make much difference for the people you hurt, but that still ain't the same as just letting it control you, much less taking glee in it." Dusk looks to Scramble with a faint flush. Then down at his bottle of tequila; he's slow to take another sip. "Not everyone's slip-ups are on the same kinda level." His brows have furrowed thoughtfully, and he pushes the bench in a slow and steady rock. "I really appreciate you checking in on me." He's quiet when he says this, slow to offer the follow up: "-- Maybe I'll swing by Riverdale soon. See how folks are settling in." Joshua snaps his fingers, points at Scramble. "Woman knows what she's talking about." Dusk's bruises are all but gone by the time Joshua claps his hand to the other man's shoulder and rises from the bench. "Think people would like that." And with very little fanfare, he is gone. Scramble's head dips at Joshua's agreement. "You know that's right. And you know the 'level' of a slip-up ain't even all about how much harm it done. The harm you do ain't worse just on account'a folks think you look scary." She blinks at the place Joshua had been a moment ago. "You see why that guy gives me derealization issues, right?" She straightens up and switches to signing. 'Be nice to see you back, even if it's just for a bit. Meantime, if you wanna smoke up with me? We don't have to talk about none of this unless you want.' Dusk's only answer is a soft rumble and an outstretched wing as he reaches for the basket.