Logs:Family Reflected

Family Reflected
Dramatis Personae Joshua, Lily	2023-02-12 That situation's -- a little specific.
Location <NYC> Buddha Bodai Kosher Vegetarian Restaurant- Chinatown
At this busy establishment in Chinatown, the line is already forming down Mott Street, even though it has barely been open half an hour. Through the establishments window, coat wearing patrons are staring with envy at those who were here right at opening time and the steam baskets of food on their tables. Lily is — also staring with some frustration at the food, though she is much much closer to it than those on the other side of the glass. She tries again to pick up a piece of slick rice roll with her chopsticks — it falls, again. “Jesus Christ” she exclaims, equal parts frustrated and amused despite herself, as she finally gives up and uses a fork, instead. “I swear I actually do know how to use these.” Chews, swallows, continues her trail of thought from before — “I might be trying to do fewer Sunday actions, between now and residency. I don’t know.” She’s dressed plainly, in a thick red flannel buttoned over a black tee and barrel cut black jeans, a thicker black chore coat with a red duct tape cross draped over the back of the wooden chair. Her hair is neatly braided and pulled over her right shoulder. A maille chain is clipped to her belt loop, a round watch tucked into the pocket in her left while her phone rests in her right. There’s a pack tucked under her chair — surely she’s not heading to an action right after brunch, right? — and a thermos of coffee guiltily placed next to her still steaming tea. The cup of coffee she placed on her companion’s side of the table is not as subtle in its paper cup but — well. She’s ordered plenty of tea to make up for it. "Those rolls are tricky." Across from Lily, Joshua has a small bowl of congee that he's just laced with spicy strips of fake meat. He is using a spoon for this particular dish, his own chopsticks settled against the edge of his plate. His level of practical-wear matches Lily's -- faded blue jeans, an FDNY sweatshirt, red and black-flag-embroidered kippah securely pinned in place, his own jacket (waterproof, black with bright reflective bands across its body and sleeves) hung on his chair as well and his pack with its NYCAM patches tucked between his boots. He swipes his tongue across his teeth after taking a mouthful of congee, and studies Lily thoughtfully. "You gonna rest between now and residency?" His typically flat tone is almost edging towards a hopefulness here. “Just a touch.” Lily could be equally referring to the roll in front of her (sliding, now, off her fork as if determined to make a mess on her plate) or the concept of Resting. “I just — if I wait until I’m running ragged again to try religion again it’s just not going to happen, you know?” She glances up at Joshua’s kippah. “Not that one day of rest is enough to recover but. Seems to help a lot of folks keep going.” Joshua's brows quirk at the mention of religion -- probably just thoughtful though the heaviness of his brows accentuates this into a more incredulous-looking expression than it should be. "Capitalism really wants to grind every drop out of us. Guess I don't need God to help me put a wall up around that, but I admit it reeeally does help." He picks up his coffee, taking a slow sip as he considers his next question. "You -- going back to your old church?" “No! — well. I guess? Kind of?” There’s just a touch of embarrassed flush in Lily’s cheeks when she walks it back. “Not — the main. LDS church.” Staring sort of resolutely at her food, now. Softer, flush burning red and splotchy: “DJ’s new. Sect. Branch. Thing.” This time the hike of Joshua's brows is definitely dubious. He lowers them again quickly with a hint of apology, and drinks another long swallow of coffee. He studies Lily's face -- lowers his gaze to his food -- looks back up to her. "What do they do differently?" Lily is not meeting Joshua's gaze. "They're -- celebrating mutants and queer folks. Actually adhering to the parts of scripture worth following, not the -- hateful parts." This comes with a press of lips and an apologetic glance upwards. "I am pretty sure they are not leaning into the antisemitism. If I'm wrong I'm out." A pause as she picks up her tea. "Again." This answer does relax Joshua slightly. Enough to take another small spoonful of his food, enough to settle back in his seat where he'd gotten just a smidge tenser in it. "It feels -- safe, then? For you." He's stirring slowly at his congee, ceramic spoon clicking lightly against the bowl. "And Da -- DJ, he's --" He hesitates, brows wrinkling. "Genuine?" Lily sips at her tea, fingertips curling around each other on the small ceramic surface, one short nail scratching idly at the skin. "Safer," she hedges. "I don't think safe is possible for me, yet. DJ is --" A small furrow in her brow forms as Lily sets down the tea. "He really, really, really believes in what he's building. It's almost --" Lily presses her lips together, unsure, before continuing, "-- maybe too much, but. It's compelling, theologically, even before the confusion of who he is to -- me. Does Judaism," she asks, though she seems doubtful of the answer already, "say anything about how to approach extra-dimensional family members? Or just -- how to approach someone who thinks they're di-- a prophet, I guess?" Joshua's eyes tighten when Lily attests to the firmness of DJ's beliefs, at almost -- maybe too much, his fingers gripping harder at his spoon and his breath catching for just a beat. Easing back out in time with a small nod. "Oh, we've had a lot of people claiming they're the Messiah. Occasionally," he sounds slightly wry here, "even get people to follow them. I guess my big question with any prophet is, is the message they're spreading hurting the world, or healing it?" There's a considerable pause before he speaks again, words slow as if each thought has taken some deliberation to fit to words. "That situation's -- a little specific, though there's been. A lot of conversation among some of us, since news of the rift. Torah didn't really have shit to say about life in other dimensions, exactly, but we do have an idea of other worlds and the ways -- that they're all a reflection of each other." His brows have furrowed deeply. "But what you are to each other -- that's a thing that you two create, not the universe. You could be born blood on the same planet or shoved together by circumstance or interdimensional fucking rift and whether you're family? That up to you, isn't it?" Lily huffs a half-voiced laugh, but doesn’t answer Joshua’s question, instead taking a moment to chew slowly through another piece of rice roll while he works through some internal theory of the multiverse. Doesn’t actually reply to this, just nods, the slight crease in her brows suggesting a little less confidence in her agency on this front than she’ll admit to out loud. Her eyes, still cast a bit down, catch on Joshua’s tightening grip. “Sor- thank you, for listening. I know it’s — he’s — differently difficult for a lot of people to think about.” She pushes the last piece of roll around her plate before looking up.“Everyone — knows about my siblings. I don’t know much about yours. What family you’ve created.” The bright curiosity in her eyes now is extremely earnest, tempered just with a little bit of embarrassment. “If I were to guess. Older sibling, if not eldest.” Her arched eyebrow turns this into question, a small, hesitant smile forming on her lips. "He saved my life," is Joshua's very soft reply to Lily's thanks. "and I couldn't --" He swallows back the end of his sentence and swallows down the rest of his coffee. The small twitch at the corner of his mouth briefly displaces some of his habitually somber expression. "Four siblings. All younger. Don't live around here, but we're close." He finally does pick up his chopsticks, plucking up one of the slippery rice rolls by dint of spearing one of the chopsticks into it before grabbing. "I don't actually know much about your siblings. I knew Dawson. The rest --" He shrugs, brows lifting curiously. "Mormon? Like, an entire army of Mormons? That's all I got. You were the one he mentioned most." Lily hesitates, just a moment, before extending a hand out across the table. It rests in the no-man's land in between the teapot and a long empty steamer basket, in such a way that it could just as easily be an offer of physical comfort or just Lily stretching her arm. Maybe she'll let that sentence lie, it sounds like she's moving on for now: "Eldest sibling sense, I knew it. Four's a good number. There were twe-- thirteen of us, three pairs of twins. Maybe not an army but certainly a couple of sports teams. The babies weren't even born yet --" And here something tightens in Lily's voice. "--You all kept him alive when our parents chose not to, when we -- when I had given up looking. Thank you for that, too." Joshua's head dips, maybe apology or maybe thanks at the upturned hand. He doesn't take it. The small smile stays, though. "Thirteen. Were you two the only --" Is the faint magic-casting flutter of his fingers meant to indicate superpowers? "I'm not saying your parents are off the hook but when I think about the number of lives those labs have ruined --" He shakes his head slowly. "Don't need thanks. He was family, too." Lily nods, her arm swinging back up to prop up her chin in her hand. Frowns, thinking. “…That I know of. I should — check on the boys, they’re all within that age range now…” She’s digging out her phone to tap out a reminder. “One day soon,” she says as she types, perhaps just a bit forceful in her optimism, “the labs will close, and no more families will tear apart like this. In that—” and very little else lies unspoken in the way Lily’s typical doubts have disappeared from her voice, “—I have faith.”