ArchivedLogs:Soon

Soon
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Nox	2013-04-21 Lucien asks Nox for a favor.
Location <NYC> 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. Lucien's house is filled with music. It is often filled with music, really; today the music comes not from the speakers surreptitiously wired throughout but from his study, a Kabalevsky concerto on the violin. Lucien is in his study, causing this music. He's still dressed casually, dark jeans and a black t-shirt, green fleece vest, and he plays quite /well/ -- at least until he doesn't, fingering slipping and the music stopping with a quiet hiss. Only to resume, from a few measures back; it is a short while before this is repeated. He doesn't hiss the second time. Just clenches his jaw and starts again. From the top. Light to a moth or red cape to a bull, the music pulls Nox in from the street. She's never entered his study--never even entered his home before without knocking--but the message asked her to come and he is playing the violin... Well. Ill-advised or not, she creeps along the bottom of the floor, shadow-dark, and peeps inside to watch him for a time. Through the swelling concerto, through the stop and the hiss and the return of the music again. It's only after she's looked her fill in secret that she withdraws and assembles herself into human form. /Then/ knuckles are softly applied to door frame as she tilts her head around it, black on black eyes huge in her face. "...hello?" The music continues a few more measures, then stops abruptly. At least not with a mistake, this time, just with a glance towards the door, first reflexively /tense/ and then almost immediately relaxing. "Nox." Lucien's voice is warm. "You got my message." "Yes." Just that, a whisper given as she looks from his face to the violin to his face again. Then Nox ducks her head and eases into the room like...well, like a thief who's come in the night. Her hair is only half-there, floating and fading behind her. More visible is the small smile she tips up when she's gathered her thoughts. "It is good. To see you, Lucien. And to hear you playing." "There is something clarifying about it. The notes make sense. There is a structure that --" Lucien's lips twitch, his smile very small as he sets the violin down on the desk, gently lays the bow beside it. "How have you been?" "Carry on to a defined end," Nox supplies, only barely lifting the end of the remark to make it more inquiry than statement. "It has been very busy. Children, the garden. Other concerns." She folds her hands before her. "And you?" "Yes. And there is a defined path along the way. There are times that that helps." Lucien leans against the side of the desk, his palms resting down against its edge. "How are the gardens coming?" comes before a quieter, thoughtful: "Other concerns?" His fingers curl lightly against the edge of the desk. "Busy. Matt should be home, soon. For a few days." "Underground concerns," she murmurs, leaving it at that. "The gardens are coming along well. There has been a great deal of help...Micah and Mr. Holland have enlisted all of their friends, it seems. I go at night, to keep the night people out. You should come see it. When you can." Nox drifts forward, placing herself on the other side of the desk. Her eyes study his face. "It will be good for you both, to have that time. How is he...?" "Ill," Lucien says, slightly wry. "Micah and Jackson do seem like the /industrious/ sorts. It -- is actually about Jackson that I contacted you," he says quietly. "Have you spoken with him much, lately?" Nox's head lifts in a brief gesture. Not quite a jerk but certainly an expression of...being taken by surprise? Her eyes blink once, owlish and oversized in her face. "About Jackson?" A moment of silence follows, during which her posture relaxes again and serenity reigns supreme. "I...very briefly. The night he painted your wall. Recently, at the gardens." "Mmm." Lucien's brows furrow together. "This is somewhat an odd question, but when you are --" He hesitates a moment, pensive. "-- Do you need to breathe?" More silence. And then ever so slowly, Nox becomes smaller. Translucent. A smudge in the air, made dim by the ambient light. It has the effect of softening her voice as well, stronger whisper becoming less. "No. May I ask why?" "His children are missing. The twins. It is possible they have taken to water, but --" Lucien's hand turns upward in a shrug. "But there are few who could follow them into the bay. Admittedly," he says, a trifle apologetic, "that is not much to go on, and the water is a very large place." "I see." The vague shape of Nox's head dips towards him. "He had said his children had been taken from him. If they are in the water, I can look for them. I can also be very large. Do they know which...area?" "I have not spoken to him. I know little save that they ran away and cannot be found. It is possible --" Lucien exhales heavily, and shakes his head. "Possible speaking with Jackson might be more helpful." He straightens, his smile slightly apologetic. "Forgive me. It has been too long since I have seen you and the first thing I do is ask the impossible." "Speaking with Jackson is rarely helpful. He hides." Nox's head shifts again, then time to signal a no. "It is all right. Truly. They are only children and he will want to know if they are safe. I can look, at the very least," she whispers. "You should tell him, there are very few dangers in these waters. They would be the largest predators." "So many people do," Lucien murmurs quietly, turning to put the violin back in its case. "They are children," is a less quiet agreement. "How are yours?" Nox hums to his first comment. Amusement or a thoughtful vocalization? It's such a faint sound. "Finding trouble. As they do. If I had proper hair it would be grey." Except it /is/ pretty grey at the moment, and will remain so until she solidifies herself. "Lucien? May I ask you something?" Lucien's lips twitch, slightly. Perhaps it is amusement as well. He turns back to face Nox, lifting one hand towards her smokey tendrils of hair, fingers curling lightly towards them. "You pull off grey quite well. Perhaps," is only lightly teasing, "you are well-suited to caretaking." His hand drops to his side, head tilting slightly. "You may always ask." Maybe she watches his hand, tracks it on its way up and then again on its way down. Nox has the advantage here, shamelessly playing the ghost. Her silence is telling, however, long after his fingers have settled to his side again. "...no. I change my mind. Not a question. An apology. I am sorry I did not stop Mr. Holland from defacing your wall." Lucien's brows crease, slightly. He dips his head, lips for a moment compressing. "-- You owe me no apology," he says, slowly, "that was Jackson's concern and -- a small matter besides." And then he is quiet, studying her a long moment. And, quieter, "What were you going to ask?" "But I think I do." And so the apology stands. Nox does not make retractions. Instead, there is that vague sense of her head shaking again. Maybe she's smaller. Maybe she's retreated towards the door. "It is of no great concern. Will you give my best to Matt for me?" "It is of concern to me," Lucien says, but it is soft. He makes no move to stop her, slipping around behind her to slip around her and out into the hallway, towards the front door. As though she needs it opened for her. "I am sorry, too. I should have --" But this hesitates, trails off into nothingness. "I will. Thank you for -- coming." Nox follows. Presumably. She's still cheating--at least for the first half the hallway. Near the end of it, a hand slips carefully over his shoulder. Not to stop him but to press lightly. "Life happens," she murmurs, now visible just behind him. "I am glad to be able to help." Lucien does stop, even if that was not the intent, lifting a hand to rest it on hers. "-- sought you out sooner," he finishes his earlier thought. Sort of quiet, sort of heavy, as he reaches to unlock the front door, though not open it. "I could have as well." A sad, small confession. Nox tenses her fingers again. Another squeeze, though not to escape the blanket of his hand. That touch brings with it the topmost of her emotions and chief among them is a yearning that has not diminished in the weeks spent apart. There's sadness too, and hesitation that's swept away with a sense of the woman taking a breath. When that emotionally held breath escapes her, it does so in a rush. "If I could be here always, Lucien. I. Have no idea how to pursue you. Whether you wish me to. Whether I should. To think that it is love is ridiculous but I missed you so. And I will always be here. To help. With anything." Then, softly, "I will go look for the boys now." Lucien's hand stays resting over hers, fingers curling in slowly. His touch carries a faint wash of cooling comfort, familiar, but it's a very brief thing, a light brush that soon fades. "Pursue --" He hesitates, letting his hand fall away from the doorknob. "This is new territory for us both, I imagine. Pursuing and being pursued --" Another hesitation. "I know only that I want you in my life. It is," he says, a little wry as he turns to face her, hand still in hers, "brighter. When you are here. And I also do not always know how to -- fit in. To yours." He draws in a slow breath, and there's another slight flicker-pulse of cooling touch. "Thank you. Whether you find them or not -- I would. Like to see you again. Soon." "Pursue. To engage in...yes. Yes. New territory." /This/ at least is clearly amused. Lightly so, but still. Nox seems to have spent all of her boldness in just speaking the words. When he turns towards her, she lowers her head to present him with the top of it, her eyes on the floor. "I have...thought of inviting you, below." Not an entirely pleasant thought, to judge the tremor through heart and hand at just mentioning it. "If you would like to see it. I know I...I know I make it difficult. Where I live." She hesitates too. "The lack of phones. But..." It hurts, to attempt openness after so long away! But through will alone, Nox lifts her head to lock green eyes with black. She smiles, summoning the concentration needed to keep herself visible for such. "We should. Go on a date. That is how it's done?" Lucien's hand squeezes just a little bit tighter. "I would like to see your home," he says, quietly, "if and when you are ready for me to see it." His lips twitch, slightly. "You are worth the difficulty. I just need to be more --" He pauses, and his head tips forward; he presses a small kiss to the top of her head. Mostly more like a long resting of contact, lips touching there and lingering until he speaks again. "A date." This sounds surprised. And then his expression warms. "-- Would you like to come to the symphony with me? I can get a box. It would be quieter. More private." He sounds quite /tickled/ by this idea. A /date/. Comfort is taken from the press of his hand, and more from the touch of his lips. Nox closes her eyes briefly, she leans towards him. This time, it's she who is transmitting soothing, cool, happy--that's the form relief takes. "Thank you. Thank you, Lucien. I am...more relieved than I can say. The symphony..." Oh, how she brightens--as best she can--at the thought. But always there is the hesitation. In this case, "Would they...would it be all right? Would I be allowed?" Lucien turns his head, cheek resting against the top of hers. His thumb skims lightly against the back of her fingers, and his answer, though not likely reassuring, is wryly honest: "Likely not. But I have ways of convincing people to look the other way. I would enjoy the night out with you. I would enjoy bringing you somewhere /you/ would enjoy." Ordinarily this would be an unhappy thought but he's displaying that talent now. Nox closes her eyes again, choosing to look the other way. "I would enjoy that very much. So very much." Her unoccupied hand steals around his waist, her arm tensing there and holding him fast--and then she is releasing the man, to step back so he can share in her unabashed smile. "Choose a day and I will be there." When her arm creeps around Lucien so too does his, for a moment holding her and then dropping back to his side. "I will have to look up what the symphony schedule is like," he muses, but now /he's/ smiling, too. "-- I can leave word. At Evolve. With a day. In this upcoming week, perhaps." His tone has brightened, and when his arm falls away he steps just a half-step back towards the door, watching her face. "Thank you," he says, softer, "It is -- it is /good/ to see you." When he shifts back, Nox takes their joined hands and lifts them. He touched his lips to her hair. She performs the same grace against his knuckles, cradling his palm in both of hers. "I can leave word as well. If I have any luck in finding the boys. My evenings are...very open. As open as they need to be, usually I am only...mm. You will make me want to stay and...and /gush/." She hums, the sound buzzing through her hands before she releases his and slides nearer to the door. "I will go. But I will see you soon as well, yes?" Lucien's hand squeezes once against hers. He opens the door for her, his answer just: "Soon." His tone makes the word a promise, though, and his smile has not faded.