ArchivedLogs:Meddlesome

Meddlesome
Dramatis Personae Micah, Naayantara	28 November 2014 Part of the Future Past TP.
Location <NYC> Maya's Apartment – Lower East Side
This is a modest apartment, clean and cheerful, one unit in a large building. The front door opens up into a cosy living room, the furniture all very low-set to the ground to encourage floor seating -- there is a low futon around a wide coffee table and several enormous pillows for seating, and a candle-lit altar set up against one wall holds some Hindu iconography together with candles and frequently changed fresh flower arrangements. The kitchen is small but tidily arranged, kept clean and generally lending the whole apartment a smell of spices that blends with the /other/ smell of incense that it often bears. There are two bedrooms that branch off down the hall, a small bathroom in between them. One is a good deal more cluttered than the other, computer desk and dresser and shelves spilling over with an enormity of knickknacks and a wealth of brightly coloured clothing in the closet. A huge dog bed sits by the queen-sized bed (usually dressed in very colourful sheets and blankets.) At the very end of the hall is a third room -- it could be another bedroom but has been turned into a little studio instead, musical equipment residing in here together with a pullout couch. Thank goodness, it has finally stopped snowing! And raining and sleeting and all of that wintry mess that plagued Thanksgiving and the day before. Black Friday is mostly just...grey, so far as the sky is concerned. Chilly but not frigid. Micah is still dressed rather cold-weather survival style, however: orange knit Jayne hat, Fourth Doctor scarf, candy corn striped convertible mittens, olive puffy coat, and snow boots to deal with the lingering snow and ice on the ground. Beneath all of these layers hides a forest green sweater over a white tee and a pair of flannel lined jeans. Once he is inside the apartment building, Micah doffs the hat and gloves, at least, shoving these into the messenger bag at his hip and trading them out for a LARGE Tupperware container filled with assorted leftover Thanksgiving baked goods separated from one another by sheets of wax paper. He knocks at the door to Maya's apartment, expression hopeful that perhaps she just lost her phone or changed the number. Maybe she will answer the door. It takes a little bit but the door is finally answered. Thump-pad of heavy feet, gruff-hopeful WHUFF behind it, snufflesnufflesnuffle? Behind the door Ratri is tailwaggy, if a little slower than her usual. When the door /is/ pulled open it isn’t by Maya, though. It’s another young woman, similar in age, also dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Taller, thinner, narrow-faced, knobbly and angular in places where Maya tends towards pudge and plump. She has on jeans and a dark blue cowl-neck sweater and a puzzled expression turned uncertainly towards Micah through the crack of the door where she hasn’t yet unfastened the security chain. Lower down, Ratri’s nose pokes through the same crack. “Um -- can I help you?” Her tone is polite, if wary. Micah's lips curl up in a warm-pleased smile at the sound of Ratri snuffling behind the door. “Hi, Ratri!” he greets the nose when it pokes out, even before attending to the person whose face appears above it. There /are/ priorities, when there are excitable pups about, after all. Hazel eyes lift to regard the unfamiliar woman. “Afternoon. I'm Micah. A friend of Maya's? I been tryin' t'get hold of her for a /minute/ an' just ain't heard a word. Finally figured...I got the day off, an' a whole pile of baked goods t'share out. Might as well drop by t'check in, 'stead of callin' this time.” He lofts the Tupperware illustratively as he mentions the baked goods. “She around by any chance?” The woman’s lips press together. Her hand drops to scruff at Ratri’s head (the dog’s tail has started wagging more furiously at the sound of Maya’s name), and she gives a quick restless sniff. It takes a delayed moment before she shakes her head. “A -- uh. A friend of -- no.” The tip of her tongue swipes out to wet her lips. Her words now are just short and clipped. “She’s not here.” One leg starts to nudge Ratri back away from the door. The tone and choppiness of the woman's reply furrow Micah's brow with easily-read /fret/. “Oh. That's too bad, I was really hopin'... Ain't heard from her in so long, s'got me t'worryin' after her. Hope she's doin' alright. Could I drop these with you, for when she gets home? An' help yourself to 'em, too. S'all vegan goodies, mostly m'husband made 'em. Y'don't want me bakin' a thing, I'll tell you.” He summons a bit of a chuckle at this last. His free hand goes digging in his pocket to produce a TARDIS-blue business card for Gorilla AT with his name and contact information on it, which he sets atop the container. “Just in case she lost her phone or somethin'. I know it can be hard t'recover your contacts when things like that happen. Just...would be good t'hear she's doin' okay.” The security chain still doesn’t unlock, though the woman's grip on the door handle relaxes faintly. Her brow knits together, teeth pressing down against her lower lip. She reaches a hand through the door to take the business card off the Tupperware, studying it once she's pulled her hand back in. "Her phone's been here," she finally says, a little bit heavily. "Maya's been. She hasn't been home for." Her eyes lower. "It's been a while." “She just...left an' didn't tell nobody? Or take her phone? Or /Ratri/?” The worry in Micah's voice vies with a heavy dose of /disbelief/. “D'you know what...where? Anythin'? Maybe she has family that knows more or...?” He /fidgets/ with the Tupperware hard enough that it nearly pops the top off in his fretting. “S'there a Missin' Persons report in on her? Or s'that somethin' we should do? I know it's...once it's been 24 hours y'can get the police lookin'.” Not that Micah sounds entirely sanguine about bringing in the police for /anything/ where his friends are involved. Behind the door the woman's lip is growing a heavy dose of quiver. She shakes her head, hand tightening on the doorknob again. Finally the door closes. The chain rattles. She pulls the door open properly, the next time. "Yes, we filed one. I don't think the police will be much help. It's been a long time. Her family knows. We just haven't --" She shakes her head again. Her hand drops to Ratri's head, fingers scritching there mechanically. "I don't know what to tell you. What did you say your name was?" Though she's still holding his card. Micah's teeth scrape across his lower lip, pressing in slightly at the woman's apparently growing distress. “Ohgosh. When did she disappear? Have y'all gotten any leads where or how or...?” Anything, really. “Not t'be...pryin'. I don't mean to, it's just... I know a P.I. An' other folks that's good at findin' people. If things're at that point already.” His shoulders sag a little, the Tupperware appearing to droop in his hands. “Micah. Holland-Zedner,” he reiterates, nodding at the card in her hand which says much the same. "A few months ago. I'm," she answers cautiously, "not sure it's the kind of thing a P.I. can help." Just as cautiously, she offers a slim hand out toward Micah. "Naayantara. Things have been at that point a while. It's just -- it's complicated." “Ohgosh, that's...I knew I'd been out of touch for awhile, but that's a long time.” Micah's sagging posture deflates all the more with this news. “Nice t'meet you, sugar.” He takes the offered hand, shaking it firmly in his own (chilly-fingered!) one. His glance is drawn over his shoulder, darting around briefly before looking back to Naayantara. “'Pologies if this sounds bizarre, but. S'it. Dream kinda complicated?” At this, Naayantara's eyes open a little bit wider. She ushers Micah inside, closing the door behind him. "-- Can I get you some tea?" Maybe this abrupt shift of hospitality and abrupt shift of tone, both more /relieved/ and more worried all at once, is answer in itself. Micah just nods at that eye-widening, taking it as confirmation of his suspicions. He ducks inside when asked there, immediately moving to doff his snowy boots once hospitality-offers are being made. It wouldn't do to drip on the floors. Returning to standing afterward, one hand scritches at Ratri's ears while the other lofts the Tupperware once more. “Y'got somethin' that goes with cookies an' pie?” "I have chai." Naayantara locks the door, gesturing to the large pillowy cushions that serve as seating on the living room floor. "Ratri will probably slurp your face off, just. Nudge her, apologies. I -- you know about the dreams, then. Is -- do /you/ know anything? It's like one night she just --" Her hand closes into a fist, opens fingers into the air. “Chai sounds perfect.” Micah smiles warmly at the thought, willing to strip out of his coat and set it aside with his other things just thinking of hot tea. He settles onto a soft cushion with a happy sigh, waving the dog over to him. “Oh, she's missin' her momma. She can have some cuddles, for sure. Poor girl.” His fingers curl in to scritch at the pup's flank, encouraging her to lie down beside his cushion. “I know 'bout her dream creation an' dream walkin' abilities, yes. Last I'd talked to 'er was 'bout people gettin' these future vision type dreams. She thought she had somethin' t'do with it, maybe. Y'know what night it was she vanished?” Ratri pads over happily, thwumping down not really beside Micah but half atop him, forepaws slung out over his lap and her head thunked up against his belly; she's apparently never learned that she's really not lapdog sized. "June. Early June. It was -- it was." Naayantara scrubs fingers through choppy-short black hair, heading towards the kitchen to put water on for tea. "The fifth. Gods, it's been. Too long. Ratri wouldn't even eat for a -- a while." Though something about the slightly too baggy fit of her sweater and jeans suggests Ratri might not be the only one. "She'd mentioned. Something about dreams. The future. But I --" Her fingers flutter uncertainly in the air. "I never had anything like that. I wouldn't know." Micah /just/ manages to get his Tupperware container shoved onto a table before he finds himself +1 dog-blanket. Ratri receives a very /thorough/ nuzzle-scritching at the news that she hadn't been eating. Naayantrara he doesn't know well enough for all that...she just gets a concerned look and additional resolve to feed her baked goods. “What all d'you know 'bout her abilities? Everythin'? I won't rehash stuff y'might well know more'n I do.” The timeframe mentioned makes him shiver, even under the pile of warm puppy. “S'about the time things went further forward. Folks'd been havin' dreams of things goin' down one year in the future, an' then...early summertime it went up. Maybe three-ish years we been guessin'. That...might be too much of a coincidence in its timin'.” "We -- pretty much grew up together," Naayantara says. "We've been kind of inseparable since grade school. I knew about her dreamweaving before anyone else did." She's been getting cups out of the cabinet but she sets them down, now, forgetting about the actual tea part of tea as she curls fingers around the opposite arm. "Wait, the dreams changed? I didn't know. I mean, she was gone. I hadn't heard -- are /you/ getting these dreams? I mean, /still/?" “Been havin' dreams ever since the night I met Maya. At first it was...things she was kinda doin' on purpose? Just tryin' t'make folks happy, or link two people who was missin' each other in a dream or that kinda thing.” Micah waves Naayantara over to sit, as well, since she is clearly distracted. And in need of cookies. Look at those cookies right there. “Then...guess it was springtime? Folks started gettin' dreams of things from about one year in the future that slowly...seemed like they was /actually/ happenin'. An' they helped us stop...some terrible things from happenin'. Not all of 'em. If we'd realised sooner...” Micah's head shakes, pushing away that thought for now. “An' 'round June, they jumped forward again. Still seems like they're almost /prophetic/, but three years from now. An', yeah. Folks's still havin' 'em. Me an' other people I know, too.” He moves to rub under Ratri's chin. “I talked t'Maya back when the one-year stuff was goin' down. She thought that there was a guy...like a psychic? Who might've been workin' with /her/ in the future t'send messages t'the past usin' her dream abilities. Or...somethin' like that. Weren't neither of us too clear on it.” His expression turns a little sheepish. “What prompted me tryin' so hard t'get in contact with her is I got a theory of the guy it might be. Y'mind lookin' at a picture for me an' tellin' me if y'ever saw 'im? Maybe he came t'see Maya?” Ratri's tail thumps heavily against the cushions, a soft happy whuff huffed out. Naayantara moves out of the kitchen, leaving the teakettle on the unlit stove and folding herself onto a pillow cross-legged on Ratri's opposite side. Her hand busies itself with bellyrubs in the soft fur. "I'd only heard -- she mentioned when these first started. I didn't know it had changed. There was a man --" Her lips pinch together, more than a little wry. "There were a lot of men." Suddenly her cheeks flush. "I don't mean like. I just mean, she was always trying to help people. There were a lot of people. I -- I can look. Yes. Please." Micah's hand moves to Ratri's ears to continue their scritch-petting mission at the whuff. It isn't until Naayantara blushes that the colour picks up in his own cheeks, clearly a case of contagious-flush. “No, I didn't imagine y'did mean... Even if y'did it wouldn't...” Darker blush. Micah looks down at his pocket as if this is necessary for retrieving his phone (it's in a TARDIS case and no one is surprised by this). An unlock screen, a few jabs and slides of a fingertip later, and there is a webpage with a picture of Dr. Stephen Vincent Strange on it. “This's the one. He's been showin' up in a lotta folks' dreams for no...real reason that we can put a finger on. Some kinda celebrity psychic I wouldn't've had no cause t'know. So I thought, maybe him?” Naayantara leans closer, her other hand lifting to scruff again through her own hair, leaving it kind of an even choppier mess. "Oh. Oh -- yes. He -- yes. He looks familiar, he did. Come to see her. It was -- a while before she disappeared, though. Months. Spring. Um, April? I think. But there hadn't been -- I mean, she hadn't mentioned the dreams for a while, I -- thought they'd stopped. I assumed." “All this started in spring, s'far as I know. Might be that lines up.” Micah nods, making mental notes as he re-locks the phone's screen and stuffs it back into his pocket. “We'll talk to 'im, then. See what he might know.” His fingers drum against Ratri's ribs, tap-tap-tap. “If that don't pan out, I know some folks might be able t'help in a general missin' persons sense. I mean, if they agree to. One's a P.I. I could give your contact information if you'd be willin' t'talk to 'im. S'kinda...rough 'round the edges, though, feel like I should warn y'first. Other's a friend who can find people? Well, /see/ people. If he has somethin' of theirs. Can get somethin' of a picture of where they are sometimes. Don't know if you'd wanna try any of that t'help with findin' her.” The steady stream of words finally slows for a moment, Micah looking up at Naayantara. He brushes his fingertips against hers where they pet the dog's belly. “Not that I got any place t'be commentin' from, havin' just met you. But y'been eatin' at all? S'a Southern thing. I can't not fret over people eatin'.” A slow nod of the head, a little mechanical at first like she's on autopilot, but it eases up as Naayantara actually meets Micah's eyes. "Right. A -- a P.I. OK. Find people. See people? -- I don't -- oh. That's -- not the strangest." She's murmuring half to herself, shaking her head sharply to snap herself out of it. "Thank you. Whatever leads you might -- I'll take anything. She's like my sister, you kn--" Her words stutter for a breath, eyes dropping when Micah's hand brushes hers. Her fingers stop, and she blinks before her fingers scrunch further into Ratri's fur. "-- know. Our families are all Indian. I get the fretting. They bring food." Micah's brows dip in toward one another again, concern renewed by the mechanical almost half-asleep manner in which the young woman is speaking. “If there's a small thing of hers that I could take t'my friend that she wouldn't mind bein' lent out, that'd be a help.” Yep, he's only able to stay on topic long enough to get that out. “I'm leavin' the pastries there when I go. So there's a bit more for you, at least. But...are you okay, hon?” "Oh -- right. A thing. Um --" Naayantara's eyes cast about the room, and she unfolds herself from the cushion, eventually getting up to move aside to the altar and pick up a small polished stone off of it. She offers it out to Micah. "You'll bring it back, though?" A small smile pushes itself onto her face. "I'll be fine. Thank you. For the cookies." “Thank you,” Micah replies, taking the stone and looking it over for a moment before tucking it carefully away in his pocket. “Of course. Once he's done lookin', he won't need it no more an' I'll bring it right back.” As if in reward for Naayantara's effort in summoning a smile, he returns it in kind. “Y'got m'card if y'need me for anythin'. Please, if y'need...don't hesitate. I'm a powerfully meddlesome person, ask anyone.” He gives Ratri one last pat before pushing to his feet, not wanting to overstay his welcome. This makes Naayantara's smile curl a little easier. "Oh. If you and Maya got along I don't doubt it. I think Meddlesome was." She catches herself with a faint colouring of cheeks. "Is like her middle name." The smile fades away as she escorts Micah to the door. "I'll text you my number. Please let me know if you -- get in touch with this man. Hear anything. Thank you." Though she's already starting to close the door once she's gotten him out of it, a rather exhausted expression settling back into her features. “Is,” Micah agrees with an affirming nod. “Promise I'll keep y'updated on whatever we find. Thank you for...lettin' me know what's goin' on. Have a good day an' enjoy the cookies.” When it's time to go, it's time to go. Micah just scoops up his gear and heads out the door, not even stopping to bundle himself back up until he is in the hallway.