Difference between revisions of "Talk:Edmond Basumatary/Temp"

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'''LAST TIME in [[Log:Meeting_Neighbors|Meeting Neighbors]]:'''
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The address that Sterling has for Edmond, confirmed later in the [https://78.media.tumblr.com/360442394c1451f4d0091c29c17f2d2e/tumblr_p0594kt2gK1qi0mwuo1_540.jpg text message series] Ed
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sent inviting her over to his place, is a small first-floor apartment in a quite shoddy building in a not especially nice neighborhood in Fort Brunsett. The hallway outside the door is
 +
narrow and dim-ish, but clean enough, and the door to number eight has been freshly painted white and the doorknob scrubbed until it gleams. It's also open a crack, and the bright red
 +
inside spills out ''into'' that dim hall.
  
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It's a crack open just in case Sterling comes by while Edmond's got his hands full, but seeing as it's a small place, she can also ''see him'' from the crack in the door. Perhaps he's not
 +
afraid of getting shot. He is, in fact, cooking, and humming to himself as he does so; he's wearing a loose dove-grey silk shirt with the sleeves pinned up and a navy blue nehru jacket
 +
with gold embroidery over it; his jeans are black and he's wearing black slip-on shoes. The pinned-up sleeves reveal that the wood only goes up to about three-quarters up his forearms,
 +
and appears rooted to a horizon that goes up a quarter of his biceps before it hits the edge of the sky.
  
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The scent of spices is strong but pleasant: he's gone for the korma mixes this time, rather than standard curry-style blends, especially since the door's part open and he didn't want to
 +
flood the hall when people might complain.
  
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"Oh no!" calls Edmond, honestly dismayed. "Listen: I am Edmond Basumatary! When I hear you come home I will knock and have leftovers for you, okay? Or if you hear me playing you can
 
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knock!" He finishes chopping the spinach, and then looks sadly at Kelsey after Elliot flees, his hands pausing for a moment in their deft work. "Did you ''hear'' her stomach? I feel
 
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bad now. I hope she does not have an entirely hungry shift."
 
  
  
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That's a lot of syllables to try to fit between Elliot's 'have to go' and her being out the door. Kelsey doesn't try to get any in edgewise. He eyes the door behind Elliot instead,
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This time around, Sterling has gone for a more modern and understated look - she's wearing a deep blue dress, that in some ways almost mimics sportswear, with zipped pockets just below
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with a tight little frown and knit eyebrows. "Well, hey," he says after a moment. "If it gets really bad, she could always eat her coworkers."
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the hips. There's also a pair of pants underneath, a somewhat looser fit than leggings, and she has her usual boots - gleaming with hedgespun mist - and a black blazer over top underneath
 +
of a winter coat.  
 +
 +
Little actual heed is paid to the building itself, or any potential neighbors, but she does stop short when she notices the freshly painted door and the crack in it. A moment's
 +
hesitation, and she lifts a hand to wrap her lightning-laced knuckles against the frame of the door.  
  
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Hopefully he's kidding.
 
  
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At least he's a little short to be Hannibal Lecter.
 
  
 +
There's a glance over his shoulder as soon as Sterling's hand touches the jamb, and ''there's'' the grin, teeth bright in his night-sky face. "Hallo! Come in dear Doctor Plague, I am
 +
sorry for not inviting you earlier, or contacting you either-- I was a bit slow to recover, and then met neighbors and cooked for them, and had to go shopping, and many things I did not
 +
expect-- please close the door behind you, Kelsey can knock if he comes by. Ah! He lives down the hall, and I think you would like each other very much."
  
 +
He spins on a heel with a pot full of Stuff, and he starts pouring it into a big bowl. It doesn't match the rest of the dishes, but there are places set at the table in front of the
 +
couch, informal but Prepared. The table itself is a little bit higher than a coffee table, so people are likely expected to pick up their plates. There is no television. There ''is'' a
 +
pot of tea under a ridiculous tea cosy that was knitted to look like a big orange tabby cat.
  
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'''NOW:'''
 
  
  
 +
Stepping in quietly, Sterling reaches behind herself to close the door, space-lightning glance going Edmond's way where he's cooking in the kitchen. "I'm glad to hear that you took care
 +
of yourself, and recovered," she says in answer, and actually smiles, shown by the relative brightness of her teeth when her misty flesh pulls back. Reaching up, she removes her coat,
 +
laying it over one arm. "And have made new friends. Good."
 +
 +
There is a clear tone of approval, and then quiet as she starts looking around, eventually just laying her coat over the couch's arm if available. "It's a little more... eclectic than I
 +
imagined," this is said while Sterling is looking down at the ridiculous tea cozy, sitting proudly on the set table.
  
  
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"..." Edmond turns to give Kelsey a slow look, but apparently decides 'eating coworkers' is a joke, because he just shakes his head and smirks and picks up the cutting board to
 
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brush all the chopped spinach into the simmering and popping ghee, stirs it with a wooden spoon, and adds a little of the simmering cream. He opens the overhead cabinet again to
 
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take down more spices and starts putting them in with all that, eyeballing amounts; he talks all the while. "I never see her with groceries or takeaway food," he says, corner of his
 
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mouth turning down a little until he blows his bangs out of his face with a quick upward puff of breath.
 
  
 +
"I like colors and bright things very much," Edmond answers the observation first, glancing up with a smile, wry and crooked. "There are not enough of them in the world outside my head, so
 +
during the times that I have a space, I flood it with what gives me comfort." The smile turns into a wide grin, the stars in his eyes sparkling. "Additionally, as it happens, it gives
 +
Kelsey something to complain about."
  
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"You're right," Kelsey concedes to that slow look. "She's too close to my build, they could fend her off with a knife and probably carry her around like a backpack if she tried a
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He comes around the grey formica counter with a big bowl of fluffy pale gold rice with saffron and bits of orange zest in it, and sets it down next to the fat orange cat tea cosy, then
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garrote." He wanders closer to the so-named kitchen, leaning on the side of the counter to try to get a look at the overhead cabinet, or at least at the spices actually involved.
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goes back for the bowl of Stuff he'd poured from a saucepan. It looks like some kind of chunky thick sauce, and it's set down next to the rice. "One more!" he says cheerily, then goes
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"So either she eats at work, or she doesn't eat? That goes with the nervousness."
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back for a round flat dish-- looks like it's in a cake pan-- of layered vegetables and other stuff and crunchy fried bits of dough on top. That and a pitcher of pale gold iced beverage
 +
are put down as well.
  
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The couch can indeed have the coat laid down over the end. Edmond smooths down his jacket and unpins his sleeves, then pulls over the wooden desk chair from the typewriter table in the
 +
corner. He rocks back on his heels and gestures broadly at the couch and table, smiling winningly. "We can start without him. And-- yes, I-- did not think I would be making other friends,
 +
but it seems that even if I am determined to avoid attachments, they happen regardless of my intentions," he says sheepishly. "But I did tell you I would recover. It is still a rickety
 +
thing, recovery, but as long as I do not dwell on it, I am all right."
  
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Edmond rolls his eyes at Kelsey, but makes room for him to peer into the cabinet or around his shoulder to see what he's doing, what he's adding. What he's doing right now is
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He gestures at the dishes. "Rice, self-explanatory, but it is orange and saffron. This is vegetable korma; this is cold and a dessert of sorts, it is aloo papri chaat. And the tea is
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dumping the rest of the bit of cream in with the spinach and spices and a little bit more ghee, and then getting out a frying pan and putting the same combination of ghee and spices
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chai, but I have black as well if you would prefer it; the pitcher is nimbu pani, which is lime and mint."
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in the bottom of ''that'', then dumping the cubes of paneer into that to let them brown and sizzle some. "She probably eats when she can," he says quietly, then sidesteps Kelsey
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gracefully and opens up the fridge to take out a ziploc of cooked rice. A steampot's bottom section's filled with about three fingers of water and the basket put in it, and then the
+
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cold cooked rice goes in the basket with a lid on top. "Part time jobs are kind of shit. So are irregular jobs, but at least with mine, sometimes I get a lot of money at once."
+
  
  
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Far side of the counter, not actually in the way. Mostly, anyway. "Yeah," Kelsey says, to the 'eats when she can.' And again, "Yeah," overlapping with 'so are irregular jobs.'
 
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There's a brief smirk at the 'sometimes I get a lot of money at once.' "Let's face it. If our jobs weren't shit, we wouldn't be living someplace like this. I'm a little worried
 
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about what might be paying rent for inside the walls."
 
  
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"...I imagine that I must be very boring, in your world of colors," notes the monochromatic Sterling, all deep grey and black laced with bits of silver-white lightning. She, often times,
 +
is very much like looking at a particularly animate x-ray. Turning, she carefully sits down on the couch, the halo of black nebula that is her hair slowly wending and curling around her
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face, and up through the air as well. "It looks delightful, Edmond. I believe I will have the... let's see... start with the rice..." she takes up a plate, putting some of the orange and
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saffron rice onto it. A quick turn, and she begins to add vegetable korma as well.
 +
 +
"As for your recovery... it always is; but do try to care for yourself. That is the most important. Some of the most beautiful things are... the most fragile." She hesitates a little on
 +
what she says, a small frown pulling at her lips and turning them downwards. It really ends up more as a deepening of shadows, there, over the light from her facial bones.
 +
 +
Instead, she points out as she continues to separate out food, "Friends are important. Why are you trying to avoid them?"
  
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"Eh, I like living in places that are like this," says Edmond with a philosophical shrug, then grins, teeth once more bright in his evening-sky face; his stars glitter with
 
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self-amusement. "Unless they do not let me repaint the walls. Then to hell with them." He takes a spatula and starts flipping the cheese cubes on their sides to brown them more
 
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evenly, and the scent of the food is already growing thick in the air. "When you are poor and everyone around you is poor, you are not judged for the wealth or status you may have.
 
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There is no one to dictate what you can and cannot do, and you may give as much as you like without it being charity."
 
  
  
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For all that the primary note in Kelsey's mien is candleflame, his eyes are one of the bright leaf-greens common among plant-kin. And those bright green eyes are drawn to that
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"You could never be boring," Edmond says with a laugh, but there is fondness behind it, in abundance. "All of your colors are in your words and your manner, in your motion and deed, in
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glitter, particularly striking as it is against the dark background of Edmond's skin, then the red of the walls.
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that smirk you make that you try to hide." There may be some teasing in there, but it's very slight, even if there's a grin, finally, at the end. He dishes rice and korma out for himself,
 +
and then he leans to pick up the teapot and pour for both of them, Sterling first. Hot tea won't stay hot, but the limeade will stay cold for a bit, with the ice in it. There's honey and
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cream for the tea, in easy reach, and Sterling's got first dibs on fixing hers if she likes.
  
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Conversation, however, is not derailed by any mentally-numbed 'your stars are pretty' remarks. "Is that why you haven't fixed the problem?" Kelsey wonders. "An aesthetic or moral
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Picking up his plate, Edmond glosses over her comment about the most beautiful things being fragile, having only a smile for it, pointed down at his plate, but when she continues and asks
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preference for poverty? Not that I've fixed it either, mind, but I haven't been here as long."
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a question, he glances up and looks faintly embarrassed. "They are very easy to lose, and I have found that that experience is more damaging than being friendly with many and close with
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none, and leaving a place before becoming too attached. It is... loss is destructive. Especially when I am unprepared. But-- I cannot, this time. I cannot avoid it this time. There is
 +
already too much of myself rooted here."
  
  
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The boy of stars with hands of wood and feet of clay, he glances up from his frying in mild surprise. "...problem?" he echoes vaguely, then goes back over everything that just got
 
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said and focuses. "Oh. Neither aesthetic nor moral. Primarily convenience. And also--"
 
  
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Here Edmond looks ''distinctly'' self-amused, and even the stars in his hair twinkle brightly, and the ones in his eyes are practically suns. He flips the cheese blocks again, not
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"A tree without roots is more susceptible to the storm," that one may not be particularly a comment to Edmond, for Sterling's brows draw close as she leans back more on the couch. The plate is carefully set aside, and then she's busying her hands adding a dollop of honey and some cream to the tea - just a bit. Chai, afterall, is somewhat best when left nicely spicy. "...I can understand that, I think. I have... not had many close friends in years. Certainly some associates, who help me in my ventures, but I don't know that I would truly call them 'friends'."
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even paying attention to them, and absently takes the lid off the spinach and stirs the pot again. "--when I come into money I buy nice clothes and new strings and pen nibs. I do
+
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not have an airtight identity, so banks and things of that nature are awkward, anyway. And I like to move around. It is easier to pack and leave if everything fits in a shitty
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The tea fixed, she lifts the saucer (?) and the cup, having a careful sip of it. Following that is a brisk, satisfied nod. "...I suspect you find that easier; the making of friends. I'm afraid that I've spent far too much time in the minds of others..." Those words are left to trail off.
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little car."
+
  
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''That'' grin is like sunlight itself.
 
  
  
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Kelsey spreads his own hands, distinctly non-wooden, even if their shadowed places take on the lilac hue and soft, uncannily even textures of flower petals. "I can't argue," he
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"A hundred years in exile from this world, and I managed one. We left together. We were discovered and he was torn from me and I was smashed to pieces, unable to protect him. When I had
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says. "Given that you've just seen me hauling most of my worldly goods. Most; I have a shipment of inventory catching up with me soon. But there's something to be said for nice
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finally pulled all those pieces back together-- not knowing what I may have left behind-- he was lost. I cannot remember his face, or his voice; I can remember the warmth of his skin and  
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clothes and emergency funds. Or in your case, for feeding your starveling neighbor, since you seem intent on making that a habit."
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the flavor of his surprised love."
  
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Edmond says this whilst adding honey and cream to his own tea, a brittle smile on his face, not looking up from his wooden hands and their task. "People frequently like me. I like it that
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they do; I have always liked them. But I do not wish to suffer a loss such as that again, so I-- I had not invested in them since returning. I did not intend to, here." He finally looks
 +
up. "But it happened. That is one reason I was dismayed when you told me that your duty calls you to vanish, piece by piece, until there is nothing remaining but memory and dream."
  
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The grin turns decidedly sheepish. "She is nice and she is hungry. I do not like it when people are hungry and it is not on purpose." Then he shrugs blithely, and shuts off the heat
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He sips his tea, letting the warmth seep in, and then calmly sets it down once more and picks up his plate. There's a rueful smile he gives to the x-ray woman of lightning and voids. "You
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under the cheese, moving to pour the excess ghee into a warm glass jar and dump the fried cheese into the spinach, stirring it again. He also takes the lid off the steamer, and
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are a doctor of the mind. So much time in the minds of others, needing to keep a detachment from them in order to help them-- I suspect it turns those who might be friends into patients,  
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un-clumps the rice before replacing the lid. As he opens the fridge again and takes out a tetra-pak of mango lassi, he notes offhandedly, "She has a job, she also may not be
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instead."
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starving for much longer. It does not matter to me: I like to share. Can you put this on the table? Glasses are in the cabinet next to your head."
+
  
  
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There's a wicked little spark in those green eyes now, and it's echoed in the sly smile -- but that smile's a conspiratorial one, rather than cutting. His tone's teasing, too, but
 
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it's not the kind of teasing that pushes away. "You don't know her well enough not to have to tell her what name to call you by. But you know her well enough to know she's nice?
 
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''That's'' interesting." Then Kelsey threads himself in, careful of Edmond's range of motion and of avoiding jogging elbows, to retrieve two glasses. Given the size of the kitchen,
 
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this does put him in thwacking range. If thwacking occurs, he's likewise careful not to drop glass (or plastic) or spill lassi, even if he's pouring at the time.
 
  
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"...Or specimens," Sterling's correction on that front is soft, sewn with something approaching regret. She doesn't touch her food as of yet, seeming content with the tea. A breath is taken of the steam, and she shakes her head, the wild nebula of black and stars whirling around her head as if she was underwater. "...Not always. If you were a -patient-, my dear, would it ultimately be so bad? As I am now?" her smile, over the luminous teeth in her face, is somewhat tight, and she takes a sip of the tea before setting it down, drawing her plate into her lap instead.
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 +
"...But no, I don't consider you a patient, so much. To an extent, maybe? It is... difficult to put aside things that I've done for so long. I'm not, truly, anymore the woman I was before. Maybe for the best," taking up the fork, Sterling picks lightly at the vegetables before taking a bite. When she does so, a look of surprise - or at least a widening of the eyes - flits over her face. "It's sweet! Not what I expected." She has another bite.
  
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Eyebrows lifting at Kelsey over his shoulder, Edmond looks prim suddenly. "Of course she is nice. She may also be an axe murderer, but if so, she is a nice one. It is perfectly
 
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possible to be both nice and evil, or nice and completely batty in awful and dangerous ways, or nice and also sometimes utterly awful." The prim literally only lasts through what he
 
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says, and then Edmond's laughing as he turns the heat off underneath the spinach cheese thing and puts the lid on it. "You, I think, are not nice, but I believe I like you anyway. I
 
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am very nice, but I will also steal a corpse from a police morgue in payment for a fancy sandwich. Nice is not a very telling descriptor, you see."
 
  
  
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"I am ''terribly'' nice," Kelsey says brightly, letting lashes flutter back at Kelsey over his own shoulder before he goes to set the pair of glasses on the table. "If only because
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There's a faintly regal nod of acknowledgement of the correction, and no judgement applied; Edmond starts eating as Sterling speaks, and obviously he is not surprised at the taste, since
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'nice' is a word that's meant almost anything, one time or another. Including polar opposites. Everyone's nice for ''one'' of them or another."
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he made it-- he smiles lopsidedly, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he chews, when she says not always, when she clarifies.
  
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He drifts back doorward, but only to listen at it for a moment (anyone in the hallway? No-one in the hallway) before adding, "That's a remarkably specific example. I feel like I  
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He waits until ''she'' is surprised by the taste to give any answers or commentary on her words, and the first thing he says, he says with an understated, almost underhanded mischief. "I
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should stock up on fancy sandwiches."
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did," he points out, stars in his eyes twinkling, "specify a light lunch. These are things that would have a different flavour if I made them for Haruki; I was able to use cream and
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yoghurt rather than coconut milk... much of the sweetness comes from honey and golden raisins. There is tamarind chutney in the aloo papri chaat, it is also sweet, but it is tangy as
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well."
  
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He balances his plate on one knee and reaches for his tea, sipping again before addressing anything else Sterling said. Then, mildly and with affection, "It would not be bad, but I have
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thought over your offer to see to my dreams, and I have come to the conclusion that I would far rather be a friend to you than someone you felt you needed to fix. So if I have excessive
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problems with nightmares, I will ask you for help only if you can assure me you would not see me differently for spending time in my mind."
  
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"Well," says Edmond, pulling shallow bowls down and spooning rice into them first, "it needed doing, and I happened to be hungry. So I said I would do it if they bought me a fancy
 
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veggie sandwich from the--"
 
  
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It's really not ''much'' of a hitch. And it's so smooth afterwards.
 
  
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"--cafe, the Cat-22 Collective place, down the street thataway." That part gets an inclination of his chin. "But," he says with a breezy smile as he finishes spooning palak paneer
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Another sip of her tea, and Sterling seems to mull over what Edmond has to say, regarding his dreams and everything. Eventually, she offers to him, "I'm certain that I have seen far worse, Edmond, and I think that... often times that insight makes me -lose- sight of the other things surrounding such things. I would like to say that it would not; but I honestly don't know. I have... never really done so on an actual ''friend''." Veins of lightning trace over the backs of her hands, and along her neck, as she explains this.
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on top of the rice, then brings both bowls over to the coffee table and sets them down, spoons and all, "the newspaper said it was a paperwork mixup, so obviously no corpses were
+
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ever stolen and I am having you on. There is clearly no need to stock up on fancy sandwiches, unless you are just planning to be nice to me."
+
"...I can understand, at least, the desire not to have someone else in your mind. Empathize, even," the space case Wizened nods slowly, in the wake of that. She still hasn't touched the dessert, instead returning to dining on the vegetable korma. "Haruki... that name sounds somewhat familiar."
  
  
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He's having a conversation with a Fairest. A Fairest whose Mantle, weaker than Edmond's as it is, is still candlelight flickers and Autumn flowers. There is very little chance that
 
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that hitch goes unnoticed.
 
  
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If it is, though, it is filed away somewhere for later, not pounced on on the instant. "Should I not be nice to you?" Kelsey asks blithely, glancing back kitchenward to see whether
+
Edmond nods, setting his tea down to eat again, and again he's quietly listening, his attention an intense but not overwhelming thing. "I am certain you must have, as well. My problems,  
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anything else needs carrying. "If you like me better ''not'' nice, I could always be mean. But that seems terribly out of balance when you've just been cooking for a pair of
+
to me they are horror but to others they would be Tuesday, yes? But still, there would no doubt be detachment that I believe neither of us would wish. I do not fear you judging me, only
−
strangers. Well. A stranger and a near-stranger."
+
the potential of you losing sight of who I am ''to you''-- losing it to ''what'' I am, from a healer's perspective. Perhaps it will be different once we have spent more time together,
 +
once you have seen more of me from the outside, and it is harder to lose impressions to the coldness of fact."
  
 +
There's a quick grin, then, and he waves his fork around with mockingly imperious dismissiveness. "I do not shy from the idea of you in my mind!" Then he says more seriously, "My only
 +
concern is that I used to see people from the inside, and frequently it ''did'' change my view of them, because I could not turn it off and it happened the moment we touched. I did not
 +
like most of them less, but those who knew-- it occasionally complicated our connections to each other. I like our connection as it is, Doctor Plague, and as I am, I would not be able to
 +
tell if you viewed me differently thereafter. That is what I fear."
  
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Edmond flops onto the couch and picks up the bowl he sat in front of, then sticks his tongue out at Kelsey. Mleh. And then he bursts out laughing. "I met both of you today! Just
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He has his fork halfway to his mouth when she says Haruki sounds familiar, and he freezes. "Ah. I thought you knew each other better. He came by yesterday with a vast array of takeaway
−
because I have seen her in the hallway does not mean I know her. But now you are both near-strangers! I have no bread to break with you, alas, but perhaps this will suffice."
+
food. When I mentioned you and that I had been distracted from contacting you to say I was doing well, he said he had been in Cat-22 and that you were concerned for me, and he felt bad,  
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Apparently nothing else needs carrying: the burfi box is still on the table for after, and Kelsey brought the drink and glasses over, and there's dinner right there. As if to
+
and remembered he should look in on me. He is a slight man, Japanese. Very cute. Like a kitten."
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punctuate, Edmond salutes with a spoonful and then stuffs it in his mouth.
+
  
  
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Kelsey slides onto the couch on the other side, tucking themself in prim and small. The second bowl is collected and held delicately in his lap. "Breaking rice seems perfectly
 
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appropriate," he says. "One grain's as good as another." His mouth curls upward at the corner nearer Edmond. And he deliberately fishes ''one single grain'' of rice out of his bowl
 
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with his spoon, divides it neatly in half with the spoon's edge, and deposits one half on the edge of Edmond's bowl before eating the other. Then taking an actual spoonful and
 
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trying with enough to, oh, actually taste. A pleased sound follows.
 
  
 +
For the most part, Sterling listens and dines, still not having touched the dessert dish at all - but she does seem to be enjoying the vegetable one. Another sip of the tea, and she wets
 +
her lips before responding after a faint, irritable frown that's there and gone, "Oh, yes, I remember him. I had meant to... tell him where to find you, but I was distracted, I'm afraid.
 +
He -did- seem concerned about your well-being." She pauses, taking a longer sip of the tea and seemingly ruminating on what she will say next.
 +
 +
When the cup is lowered, she continues, "I was seeking who did it, honestly, and looking into things." The cup is then placed on the table as she leans forwards, waving her
 +
lightning-pulsed hand after as if to clear out the subject. "I'm glad that he found you."
  
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There is a sound that is almost a snort of laughter except that Edmond catches himself just in time and avoids getting spicy up the back of his nose. Then, with almost-grave
 
−
deliberation -- the suppressed smirk keeps tugging at the corners of his mouth -- he picks up the half-a-grain delicately and puts it in his mouth, watching Kelsey the whole time.
 
  
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Okay, putting his fingertip in his mouth afterwards probably wasn't necessary, but there it is.
 
  
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Perfectly matter-of-factly, but with a real smile for the sound of Kelsey appreciating his cooking, he goes back to eating his own bowl.
+
When changelings grow in power, the Wyrd listens to them. That's not cause and effect. It's a tautology. The obvious effects, the great uses of power, the increasing strangeness ...
 +
everyone in changeling society knows these. But the less obvious effects are, well, lesser.
  
 +
Like someone knocking at Edmond's door perfectly in time to punctuate her last sentence.
  
−
Probably not necessary. Probably also not necessary: Kelsey answers the gesture with a glance through lowered lashes, head deliberately angled to allow it to be emphasized. Then
 
−
returns to his turn at primness, eating with a certain degree of delicacy. And without the American tendency to want to talk all the time while eating. Apparently he really ''does''
 
−
appreciate the palak paneer. That, or he might be concerned that he could break out laughing if he tried to say anything.
 
  
  
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Eyebrows ''up''. For like a second. And then Ed just grins, bright and wide and delighted, and curls up in ''his'' corner of the couch with ''his'' palak paneer. He himself is not
+
The elemental's wooden hands slow, and he studies Sterling's reaction carefully, putting it together with what he knows of her thus far and the patterns of expressions he remembers from
−
actually inclined to start laughing should he stop eating, or say anything, he's just hungry-- as evidenced by the fact that he manages to scarf the whole thing in two minutes and
+
when he was small, and that he's seen since he's been back, since he's been closer to human again. But-- she clears the subject, so he doesn't bring up her apparent difficulty with it; he
−
still be on the civilized side of eating quickly. When he's done, he unfolds his legs and puts the bowl down and picks up his lassi, hyper-aware of Kelsey being there, but he still
+
hates being called on things himself.
−
doesn't say anything, just drinks his drink.
+
  
−
One thing that can be said for the place, as brightly and busily decorated as it is: it's meticulously spotless, and there's neither clutter nor mess. Absolutely everything is in
+
And at the very end of 'I'm glad that he found you', there's a knock on the door, and Edmond's eyebrows shoot straight up. One corner of his mouth quirks, and he glances toward the empty
−
its place except what he'd just finished using to cook. It's warm, it ''looks'' warm with the fool-the-eye colors, it's someone's version of homey, and it is ''flawlessly clean''.
+
place setting, and he laughs and sets his things down to get up. "One moment, and I will tell you what I know of her, while skirting what she did," he says with a smile, moving to the  
−
The books are alpha by author for fiction, and clearly grouped in topics and organized within those, and all lined up precisely so their spines are flush with each other; the spice
+
door to open it.
−
cabinet had been organized-- there's no mail or letters visible, the sarode is on its stand and its case is leaned against the wall behind it; the keyboard is broken but it's not
+
−
trailing guts or anything-- and the inbox and outbox of the typewriter are aligned with the edges of the little table it's on, and the chair is pulled up flush against its front.
+
  
−
The floor's seen better days, but from the cleanliness of the rest of the place, the guy probably washed it with a bleach solution when he moved in.
 
  
  
−
The question is whether there's anything that can even be done for the carpeting, or whether it's custom-designed to reject carpet shampoo. One does not ask these things. One simply
+
"I believe you told me enough of what she did, last time, for me to narrow it down..." Sterling says in a quieter voice, lower so that whoever's behind the door won't be able to hear.
−
does not.
+
While Edmond's seeing who's there, she finishes off her vegetable korma, and then sets the plate down. -Finally- she starts getting into the dessert (that her player can't spell), because
 +
if you're disappearing into dreams what need have you for long term healthy eating. Besides, it's Indian food.  
  
−
Kelsey's rate of consumption is somewhat slower than Ed's, given time taken to savor, but soon enough he has his own glass cradled in his hands instead. The first sip may have been
 
−
a little overly quick; that's still more spice than most Americans are entirely used to. But not too much more in this case.
 
  
−
"That," Kelsey says at length, "was really good." And definitely better than the amount of food visible in among the luggage he was hauling in, which if the rest of his bedding was
 
−
stuffed in there with the pillow, probably amounted to 'maybe a handful of breath mints.' "I think your neighbor has a better thing going than she knows."
 
  
 +
Who's there is a slight Fairest in jeans and a hoodie, the latter unzipped to show a slice of a T-shirt printed with the Blue Marble photo of the Earth. A tail of muted candleflame hair
 +
tumbles over their shoulder. "Sorry," Kelsey says as they slip inside, automatically moving to let Edmond close the door as quickly as possible. "I only just got your note; I was out
 +
meeting with a couple of clients." That might explain the faint lavender-and-peppermint smell.
  
−
Edmond looks supremely pleased with himself, toes curling around the edge of the couch cushion from where he'd drawn his legs up, and shoulders hunching in a little bit as he ducks
 
−
his head and beams at Kelsey, eyes little half-moons. "I am so glad! I was not allowed to cook when I was small, but I watched everything I could when I hid in the kitchen. I have
 
−
been watching cooking youtube videos and reading recipe books a lot since I got back, but I had not cooked for anyone else yet. You can come here for dinner any time you like!"
 
  
  
−
"Now that's a dangerous offer," Kelsey says, brightly sly and teasing again. He curls sideways and tucks his own knees up onto the couch cushions, toes pointed but shoes not
+
"Do not worry, I knew you were out and only hoped you might arrive before the lovely Doctor Plague had to leave," Edmond says cheerily, yes, closing the door behind Kelsey as quickly as
−
touching the upholstery. His hair, on the verge of lambent, curls down the front of his shoulder. "For all you know, I might eat you out of house and home. Or shall I buy groceries
+
possible. He gestures widely into the room. "Doctor Sterling, this is my other friend Kelsey; Kelsey, this is my other friend, Doctor Sterling," he says with a vast amount of  
−
for you to make up for it? Then you'll have more to spend on pen nibs."
+
self-amusement. "I do hope you enjoy poking each other with verbal sticks, you are both so very adept. It will be a pleasure to spectate."
  
−
It is not a pledge phrasing. It skirts close to it, but it's not.
+
He puts a hand lightly on Kelsey's back but doesn't push; instead he just goes back in and flumphs onto the sofa again, bright colors and dark sky mixed in with bright colors and
 +
patterns. He is not quite camouflaged. "I believe the tea is even still hot~! At any rate, I was about to say what I knew about the woman at Cat-22. And-- Sterling, honestly, it will be
 +
all right. I will tell you how you can find out more. Her name is Leitha, and I believe she was a Darkling of some sort, potentially Autumn. She was there with a mute man who also took
 +
too many notes. Dr. Isolde Garreau carried her outside afterwards, from what I understand; there was a notice about it in the paper-- she may know more. She is also a very funny person."
  
  
−
Kelsey does not avoid Edmond's eyes, but meeting them is a quick thing, a flicker up and then away to his mouth, or his hands on the dishes, or the set of his shoulders. "I think I
 
−
should tell you," they say softly, "that I might flirt, but it's not serious. That I'm not actually -- mm, let me not use that saying. That I'm not actually looking for a
 
−
relationship. Or even for a hookup. I think right now you're having fun with it, and I think right now you're okay with it just being having fun. But I don't want to risk it getting
 
−
serious for you when it isn't, it can't be, for me."
 
  
−
Whether or not he'd have given that warning if Edmond's storm-warning summer-night Mantle weren't strong enough to push his own back ... that's a question for later, maybe. Or maybe
 
−
for never.
 
  
−
His body language had gone still for a moment; now it eases, a shift of weight, a light little bend-and-stretch like a breath against a candleflame. "If you still were to write a
+
One wide gesture deserves another; Kelsey follows Edmond's to Sterling, and while their eyes widen a fraction, they also bow neatly over their left hand. "You're the one who lured him
−
letter to me, knowing that -- why, then you might address it to Kelsey Williams, and it might get to me okay."
+
into low and corrupt habits like 'talking with people about things less trivial than the weather and unwise sandwich choices?' I /do/ appreciate."
  
 +
Seating that won't actually intrude on the Doctor's space is sought out, the better to listen without interrupting to Edmond's list of Possible-Darkling Facts. "Which she is the very
 +
funny person?" they ask at the end. "Dr Garreau, or the other?"
  
−
Edmond pauses with the dishes in his hand, on the way to the sink, and the storm warning doesn't change. There's no anger ''here'', there's no heat of wrath, no lashing of a
 
−
monsoon, only the quiet chirping of crickets and the steady hum of the cicadas amongst the background sounds of living in a cheap apartment with thin walls in a bad neighborhood. He
 
−
doesn't look away from Kelsey, and nothing about his body language shows a gathering of tension.
 
  
−
Only there's a faintly amused, faintly sad little quirk to one corner of his mouth, and then he goes on moving again, to put the dishes in the sink and turn on the water so it runs
 
−
hot, eventually. While he waits, he takes out a dry erase marker and he writes 'Kelsey Williams' on the fridge in a gloriously graceful, looping, antique hand. As he writes, and
 
−
then as he re-caps the marker and goes back to the sink, he speaks.
 
  
−
"That is all right. I believe I will survive this vast and aching disappointment. Please do not think it creepy if I date guys who look a little like you-- it is only that you
+
One of Sterling's eyebrows presumably raises, since there's a shift of the misty shadows of her face, and then she actually laughs briefly at the commentary about 'low and corrupt
−
''are''," he glances over his shoulder and grins at Kelsey, "my type. If we are to be friends, that is perfectly lovely. If we are friends who flirt, that is lovely also. Only if--
+
habits'. "I -do- have quite the reputation as a corruptor; I fear I simply can't put it away." That's partially serious, partially in humor, and she inclines her head to Kelsey, eyes
−
you think you are flirting too much, please do not stop the friends part, only the flirting part."
+
presumably on their face. "My pleasure, as is making your acquaintance." It really is quite difficult to tell where she's looking - or how exactly she's doing it.  
 +
 +
For her part, she's wearing a grey dress probably patterned off of sportswear, with zipped pockets several inches below the hip, and a close-fitting pair of dress pants with hedgespun
 +
boots that appear to be mist just as much as her - but lit by morning light from a friendlier star, maybe.
 +
 +
"...Carried her out?" wonders Sterling afterwards, obviously curious. "And Doctor Garreau... Tsk. That is interesting, but I do wonder why she would be helped at all. Or was it
 +
purposefully removed?"  
  
  
−
"I may have guessed the your-type part," Kelsey admits, with a gloriously exaggerated show of modesty. Fortunately, he's still on the couch, so he can't actually scuff a toe on the
 
−
floor. "That is. I did notice that your neighbor and I look a ''tiny'' bit alike. Just a touch." Small, thin, blond -- he doesn't have that smile, granted.
 
  
−
It's a moment after that he uncurls from the couch, slipping over toward the counter, trailing behind and regarding the handwriting on the refrigerator. "If ''you'' think," he says
+
"Doctor Garreau," Edmond tells Kelsey patiently, with this sidelong Look that's prim at the edges because he also says, "and you are meant to poke at each other, not potentially gang up
−
lightly, "I am flirting too much ... please tell me, so that we can also stop the right part there. I don't know what you find acceptable, and what you find beyond the pale." He
+
on me, that would be entirely unfair." He waves a hand airily. "Though I suppose I can wait for my entertainment." He leans to pour Kelsey tea, then nudges cream and honey across the
−
pauses. "-- is that an idiom you know? English is made out of weird."
+
table a little ways so Kelsey can doctor it. (Edmond's is clearly doctored.) "For the record, that is vegetable korma, saffron and orange rice, and aloo papri chaat. In the pitcher is
 +
nimbu pani, it is lime and mint," he informs the Fairest.
  
 +
There's a glance to Sterling as he sits back again, this time with his tea to finish off before he has some of the chaat himself. "Apparently the woman was yelling and eyewitnesses were
 +
trying to figure out if she was drunk or on drugs or possibly Dr. Garreau's girlfriend. So probably purposefully removed."
  
−
"I," says Edmond comedically self-importantly, "even know the ''origin'' of that phrase." Comedically; his fingertips are on his chest for a moment, which leaves suds on navy blue
 
−
hoodie-front. Then he finishes up and actually dries the dishes and puts them away. "Also, she is safe from being my type, I am not attracted to girls. I fear I break many, many
 
−
hearts just by walking around."
 
  
−
He ''sounds'' completely serious, but there's laughter in his eyes as he turns back to look at Kelsey, and there's fondness there. "I am a great deal older than I look, or act,
 
−
Kelsey. I think if you start groping me I will ask if you have changed your mind about hooking up, and if you say you have not, then I will inform you that you are in fact flirting
 
−
too much."
 
  
 +
"All consequence are always intended, of course." Kelsey flickers a smile at Edmond and manages somehow not to give any sidelong glance to Sterling to evaluate the odds of conspiracy.
 +
Then perches on the desk chair as if the back were made of ice, liable to melt or sear if leaned against. Honey is allowed to be an immediate distraction.
  
−
Kelsey steps back from the counter at this news --
+
"Yes," they comment. "Well. If they ''were'' dating, presumably yelling would have been paid more mind." That's the limit of potentially useful commentary from that particular Fairest on
 +
that one; lack of familiarity with the people involved, apparently.
  
−
-- to give himself room to drop into an extravagantly courtly bow over his left arm, right hand out in a fluid flourish, left foot drawn back in poised counterweight. He holds the
 
−
pose for a moment before straightening. "I'll keep that boundary in mind, and on your own head be the rest."
 
  
−
There's an instant's pause. "Mmm. I should tell you that I'm occasionally a girl. But only occasionally, and briefly, and honestly it almost always seems to happen when I have a
 
−
knife in my hand for reasons entirely unrelated to food. So it shouldn't be a problem, I think." He cocks his head to the side inquisitively; the motion makes a bright ruffle out of
 
−
the contained firefall of his ponytail. "I hope."
 
  
−
The voice in the back of his head screaming at him about why in the world he's opening his mouth on the subject in the first place is consigned ruthlessly to the same internal box
 
−
as the urge, a few moments ago, to touch that hint of sadness at the side of Edmond's mouth. The only hint of either unexplained touch of irrationality is a faint, faint brittleness
 
−
in his smile.
 
  
 +
"...So probably forcibly removed in this case, due to her behavior," agrees Sterling, finishing off the remains of her food and pouring herself a bit more tea - should there be any left.
 +
Chai is quite good, afterall. Her own posture is more relaxed, and the pulses of lightning have slowed subtly, even though she's indulging in a caffeinated beverage. More cream and honey
 +
is added to it. "Doctor Garreau might, then, be a place to start for me to... proceed there. What did you say her name was, again, Leitha...?"
 +
 +
A look, mostly indicated a turn of the head, is sent Kelsey's way and the shadows about Sterling's teeth adjust into a smile. To Edmond, she says almost apologetically, "I'm afraid your
 +
friend has something of a... calming aura around them." That's probably something rarely said of an Autumn.
  
−
Edmond looks faintly taken aback, but then shrugs and smiles. "Well, you are not interested in hooking up-- or a serious romantic relationship-- anyway, so yes. That is fine." He
 
−
leans against the counter himself, then, across from Kelsey. "If you were, I--"
 
  
−
The Elemental pauses, looking even more startled, and shuts his mouth. Then he frowns a little, and when he looks back up at Kelsey his eyebrows are up, like this is news to him but
 
−
it's topical and relevant so he's going to damn well share it anyway. "If you were, then for you, I would be willing to work on it. And I don't know why. I have known you less than
 
−
an hour, and that seems a silly thing to say. But-- just-- there is... trauma. So please do not surprise me by being-- ..." His mouth shuts again, as he looks for a way to put it.
 
  
−
Finally he sighs and straightens up, running a hand through his thick starry black hair. "I do not think you would do that. But in the interest of full disclosure, I will... freak
+
Another Look at Kelsey, and there is a muted sparkle to it, and it might be mild amusement and it might be high amusement mitigated by mutiny. But then Edmond continues.
−
out. If you are a girl and you start coming even close to the line I have drawn already."
+
  
 +
"I was otherwise occupied at the time, but yes-- Dr. Garreau should be able to give you more information. She was also attempting to distract the woman and her apparent partner earlier in
 +
the slow spiral of disaster. It was Haruki and a girl named Mina that I was primarily speaking with prior to making my poor life choices," Edmond says easily, "and they were also
 +
attempting to stop the growing situation." A beat, and the elemental sort of curls back further into the couch as he thinks about the parts of the evening that merely had him slow-motion
 +
pantomime exploding, rather than on the floor having enough of combined hallucination and panic attack to actually injure himself. It looks like the couch might swallow him. Maybe that's
 +
why there's cloth draped over it. "Leitha... ah... Kane. But that, I fear, ''is'' all I will be able to give you on the subject."
  
−
There's a quick shake of Kelsey's head when Edmond trails off on the request not to surprise him. Another quick shake when Edmond is finished, and now the tail of his hair is hardly
+
Thankfully, Sterling is also making comments about Kelsey, and bright starry eyes glance to the Flamesiren, and the corners of Edmond's eyes crinkle, and he grins and his teeth are a
−
a tail at all, as opposed to a bright half-glowing ball of dandelion fluff. He pulls it back over his shoulder and runs his fingers through it. "No," he says. "That's not something
+
bright contrast. "Kelsey is reasonable and remarkably patient with me and also very beautiful. You are both very beautiful, and so is Haruki, and I consider myself exceptionally blessed
−
I'd do. That's -- we've all got trauma. The way we get along is by not ''stepping'' on it. And I understand. I --" He hesitates for an instant. "There are things that make me freak
+
to be so surrounded by beauty."
−
out like that, too. I'll remember that's the same for you as ... as glass elevators are for me. So if I ever shift like that when I'm near you, I'll back off. Probably across the
+
−
room. If that's okay, if that won't upset you."
+
  
  
−
"That is over-okay," says Edmond with a little shake of his head and a chuff of a laugh, bracing his hands against the edge of the counter. For what it's worth, he hasn't backed
 
−
off, hasn't even telegraphed it. "I can be close to you. I have many friends who are girls-- I do not avoid touching them, being near them. Hugs are okay! A kiss on the cheek is
 
−
okay! Just-- not-- just not anything that... hmm... that a sister or a mother would not do," he finally settles on, looking wry, looking apologetic.
 
  
−
Straightening up a little more, the starry boy looks down at his wooden hands, then glances up past Kelsey, and moves around the counter again to head back to the couch and the  
+
"We're guests," Kelsey says lightly to Sterling. "I'm on good behavior. I assure you that once I'm familiar enough with the situation and the people involved to have an idea who was being
−
lassi. "We do not step on trauma, yes, but sometimes related things can be stupid and awkward and upsetting to people we like, and I am sorry if-- this is--"
+
an idiot and in what way, I will be ''far'' more entertainingly cranky." Poor life choices are not commented on otherwise. Possibly that one's just too easy when it's already laid out
 +
like that. Possibly they think it's impolite to steal the couch's prey.
  
−
His hand closes on his glass, and he picks it up and holds it in both, and he just keeps looking down at it. "It is not you, or what is a part of you, and it is not me, and it is
+
Annnnd then there's Edmond's comment. Apparently, to Kelsey, rolling one's eyes at that 'remarkably patient' comment is an expression that needs to be almost full-body. Almost only
−
not any of my friends who are girls, and it is not any other girls, it is just-- Her." He actually shuts his eyes and there's actually legimitately a flinch that ''stays'', like
+
because they're careful not to spill tea on their own hands.
−
someone unused to alcohol getting a mouthful of straight scotch. A faint breath, and he forces himself to relax, and his words are quiet and firm, a resolution. "Someday I will be
+
−
able to make myself get past it. I am sorry. Our conversation was fun! And then I went left."
+
  
  
−
Couchward. Kelsey turns to trail after Edmond, if at a polite distance, and the couch shifts just a little as his relatively light weight settles down onto the other end of it. No
 
−
interruption of the awkward words, even in the hesitations. No distraction from the staring at the lassi.
 
  
−
It's only after Edmond says that last, and finally finishes, that the couch shifts again. And that's all the warning he has before there are thin arms wrapped around his shoulders, and a  
+
"...I am usually unfortunately uninhibited in my verbal observations," well, that's fairly self-aware of Sterling, and she does sound somewhat... regretful on that front, the lightning
−
slim body pressed (through two hoodies) against his side, and a chin prodding firmly into his shoulder.
+
underneath of her translucent skin stirring in a more animated fashion than it had been. She continues on afterwards, however, with a small nod, "That is usually not at all of concern to
 +
me; provided that you don't mind a response in kind." She smiles, though, or at least the shadows about her mouth shift.
 +
 +
"Beautiful," repeats Sterling then, sounding... amused more than anything else, on that front. "I believe most would call me 'frightful', darling. There is a reason that I usually walk
 +
about with my mask hiding... this..." she gestures with her hand. "Away from most eyes."
  
−
"Don't you start apologizing over that," Kelsey says, low and fierce. "Not to me."
 
  
  
−
There's surprise, but there's no flinch this time, no tension: apparently hugs *are* always okay. Except if Kelsey were covered in blood and gore it might be an issue. Difficult to say.  
+
"I await your entertaining crankiness with bated breath," Edmond says, sounding almost zen as he cradles his tea, "so long as it is not aimed in my direction. You should eat some food. It
−
Irrelevant at the moment. Instead of tension, Edmond relaxes into that squish. He's warm even through the hoodies, and it's not just his mantle: he's ''warm'', alive and present, pulse
+
is very different from everything Haruki brought, as it is from what I made us when we met." He does not seem interested in unfolding himself from his corner; at some point he seems to
−
fluttering fast with the quick beat of his heart.
+
have shed his black slip-on shoes, because when he ''does'' shift, it's to bring his baked-clay feet up beneath him.
  
−
And Kelsey is so close. In addition to the scents of a storm-warning summer night, he smells of clean earth that's freshly turned, and of living forests, wild and untamed, and his Wyrd
+
Then his gaze slides over to the x-ray doctor, and he looks somewhat affronted-- but with his words, it's clearly on her behalf. "Then most are not true aesthetes. You are more sky than I
−
offers the sense of expansiveness and awareness of astronomical distances and geological time. He feels like someone who should be patient and calm and solid, and somehow the electric
+
shall ever be, and yet, you are visibly more human than I: your humanity is ghosted in bone and proven in the living electricity of your shining central nervous system, and I am Doctor
−
wildness of his Mantle's low angry warning fits with that. Somehow. There's a link, there's a ''sense'' to it, that only Kelsey's particular flavor of Autumn obsession would be able to  
+
Frankenstein's confused attempt at mixing landscape painting with sculpture. Yet, because this 'most' of whom you speak is universally awash in media which dictates to them what is
−
put together: this boy, if boy is even the right word, ''is'' that solid and that patient and that enduring, which means his Mantle indicates a very large temper at the end of a very,
+
beautiful and what is not, if I am wearing clothing I am considered beautiful. Do not let 'most' tell you what you are, dear Doctor."
−
very long fuse.
+
  
−
None of this washes with the twitchiness he'd displayed initially, or the recklessness of inviting total strangers into his home, or the sheer desperation to ''please them'' that's danced
 
−
about the edges of his interaction. Something happened, and happened recently, that's set this patient and solid creature off-balance. And none of this washes with his blithe, flippant
 
−
statements about packing everything in his car and leaving. Someone like this should put down roots, shouldn't live in a building where no one talks to each other, should be part of a
 
−
community, should become a fixture-- not steal a corpse for a fancy sandwich and be ready to bug out at a moment's notice.
 
  
−
But here he is, complicated and nonsensical, as damaged as the rest of them in myriad ways-- and here he is setting his glass down again and lifting his hands to hug Kelsey's arms around
 
−
his shoulders, living wooden hands polished-smooth and hard but warm, and he lightly leans his starry dark head against Kelsey's candleflame bright one. His voice is soft. "All right."
 
  
 +
"I will eat some food," Kelsey assures Edmond. "It's only that the two of you are being interesting." That Kelsey doesn't mind such a response in kind is indicated by another bow, this
 +
one from their chair and far more careful than the first one. A quick little thing, not a production.
  
−
That's the thing. They got loose. They don't ''have'' to be what they were made to be.
+
Sterling's amusement might be catching, whether or not for the same reason. Kelsey didn't find anything odd in Edmond's first calling her beautiful, after all. "If beauty and fear weren't
 +
neighbors," they observe, a peripheral little wrapup to Edmond's protest, "we'd have a shortage of cathedrals."
  
−
Even if it might be better for them, sometimes.
 
  
−
None of what's happening makes any sense. It's something, again, that Kelsey can fold away, can set aside to take out and examine at a later time. The Autumn Court is, as a rule, in favor
 
−
of living with one's emotions rather than trying to conquer them. But even when one has a roommate, one doesn't need to prioritize them ''all'' the time. Feel, yes. Consider later, yes.
 
−
Act on ... not all of them at the same time.
 
  
−
He stays there, therefore. Not still, precisely. His breathing is definitely evident, given that some of his weight is outright draped ''on'' Edmond. Fingers flex. That pointed chin
+
It's possible Sterling is raising an eyebrow again, when Edmond mentions that, having another slow sip of her tea. "...I suppose you are right; but the mask is still convenient when
−
shifts, just a little. Small things that, although sometimes uncomfortable, make the difference between a still more uncomfortable silence and a lving one.
+
attending to others. The human mind, or human remnants in a mind, do not always process... seeing the functioning parts of a body well," she does, however, chuckle. However, Kelsey
 +
contributes to the conversation then and she actually makes a short, abrupt sound of surprise, "Right you are. I believe a few of them even have body parts openly on display... Perhaps,
 +
even, the fear of the macabre and lack of awe is more of a modern thing among the general population."
 +
 +
She's rising then, afterwards, and asking of Edmond, "May I use your washroom, please? Just point me in the direction." She'll go where he instructs.  
  
−
And eventually, the murmur quiet and low and blending oddly perfectly with the quiet and the warmth and the contact: "If you turn out to be some kind of codependent jerk with no borders
 
−
and abandonment issues, Summer or not, I'm gonna find some way to kick your ass."
 
  
  
−
Perhaps oddly, there's literally no body language of discomfort from the elemental in the room-- the elemental who looks for all the world like a very confused Fairest, in many ways. Part
+
"Of course," Edmond says, and then looks somewhat apologetic. "I have not managed to bleach all of the stains out. The door is that one," he answers, pointing. It is, as all washrooms in
−
of him is very, very much that patient solidity, and his breathing is easy and natural, and he remains relaxed, and his heartbeat slows down.
+
this building, a bit of a claustrophobic nightmare. But at least there's a scented candle.
  
−
Kelsey's voice, an almost sudden thing in the humming quiet of the room, gets Edmond to open his eyes and turn his head a little, starry navy blue meeting that too-bright green with
+
His gaze, as Sterling vanishes therein, slides slowly to Kelsey, and his eyebrows lift. "You have a calming aura about you, I hear."
−
affectionate mirth. "If I display signs of such, please kick my head instead, in order to dislodge whatever may be possessing it. Behavior that poor would be distressingly out of
+
−
character for me."
+
  
−
Quiet again for a second, that regard so very close as almost nose-to-nose as they are, Edmond studies Kelsey. And then he brightens, ridiculously, grinning like he just managed to see
 
−
the individual wingbeats of a hummingbird in flight. "I figured out how you feel!" he crows like it's a huge revelation, dropping his head back and saying it to the ceiling so Kelsey's
 
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not deafened. And then he starts laughing in relief. "Yes, it is strange how easy it is to be comfortable with you, and I am worried for it also, because I do not like to become too
 
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attached to people or places? Because I do not wish to be eaten by loss. But I will not run from you, Kelsey," he finishes, patting the flamesiren's arm. "If I find I have to leave I will
 
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tell you first. I will trust you and give you whatever you need for you to trust me. I want your friendship very much."
 
  
  
−
It's a bright green glare, but the indignation is just another layer over that odd sense of comfort. "Permission and invitation noted. And ''will'' be remembered." He bares teeth as if he
+
Let's face it. Edmond's 'have not managed to bleach all of the stains out' is still probably the cleanest in the building.
−
might be about to attempt to bite Edmond's nose... but tips his own head back in turn when Edmond laughs to the ceiling again. And heaves an exaggerated sigh.
+
  
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"It's 2017," he says. Still looking ceilingward. Even after being patted. "They have these things these days. I know it's hard to catch up with everything, but some things are useful to
+
Kelsey lowers lashes for the specific purpose of looking at Edmond through them. Looking ''flatly'' at Edmond through them. "Don't make me have to murder you with a doctor in the next
−
know about. 'Internet.' 'Cell phone.'" He does not draw out the syllables or exaggerate the way they're pronounced, at least. Not ''this'' time. After a moment, though, he squirms, and
+
room. It'd be so impolite."
−
the unpatted arm comes up and a fingertip taps Edmond's nose.
+
−
 
+
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(Yes, he glances to check whether the stars are ''also'' indignant.)
+
−
 
+
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"You should be more careful with your promises," they murmur, their voice dropping lower. "Somebody might take you up on them before you have the time to think things over."
+
−
 
+
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+
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The stars are ''very'' indignant. Across Edmond's face, a constellation's stares abruptly flare bright, picking out the path of Eridanus. All the same, the boy's mantle never wavers;
+
−
there's no anger. "I," he says with supreme dignity, "have a ''Chromebook''. I have been back ''four whole years''. I have a ''gmail'' account." He shifts a little too, facing Kelsey more
+
−
easily, which also makes tapping his nose easier. "I have a ''tumblr''."
+
−
 
+
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Then there is the nosetap, and he blinks-- and a shooting star tracks rapidly across his face, from just below his right eye, before it vanishes in the vicinity of Achernar. Still, he
+
−
doesn't stiffen, doesn't tense. There's something else instead, something inscrutable and distant, which shifts his demeanor in almost imperceptable ways-- shifts it to something regal
+
−
and grave and full of a vast and weighted sorrow that tastes almost of despair. Almost.
+
−
 
+
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It's ''very'' quietly that he says, one hand coming up to catch at Kelsey's and hold it in the air near their faces, "You do not know how careful I am with my promises, or with my heart."
+
−
 
+
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+
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That shooting star wins an expression other than the glare: Kelsey melts into a delighted grin, eyes wide with a moment of sudden wonder. They manage to take their hand back a little, rather than letting it wander across the river-trail of that constellation. Which of course, means that it's all the easier to catch. Particularly when Kelsey doesn't actually try to pull it away.
+
−
 
+
−
"I don't," they answer gently, not quite lightly. Weighed down a little by that near-despair. "I only know about that one. And it makes me worry. Maybe I worry too much. I don't know you yet. But I'd rather worry too much than not worry when I should have."
+
−
 
+
−
 
+
−
There's the smallest smile, finally, and maybe it's partially in response to the delighted grin that he drove away a little bit with his words, sadly, or maybe it's in response to the last things Kelsey says. "But you worry. About ''me'', of all people," like there's something inane about specifically worrying about Edmond.
+
−
 
+
−
He takes a breath, and releases Kelsey's hand, and the thin pre-dawn light at the v of his hoodie's zipper grows warmer, brighter, beginning to be touched by hints of airy white-gold and lightening the blue above it. "I will trust you, and give you whatever you need for you to trust me. That is neither bound as promise in Wyrd or words, but it is a declaration of intent, and you are not the boss of me so I am making it."
+
−
 
+
−
The earth and sky and the green green leaves grin at Kelsey abruptly, and this time it's quick and bright and teasing. "It is an ''offer'' to make a promise, Williams! I am not so bad at English that I do not know the difference!" And then the elemental pulls himself up and away off the couch and spins deftly on his foot to face Kelsey again, and the smooth-polished wood of his hands goes into his hoodie pockets. Standing, he cocks his head and regards the flamesiren, and there's mischief that goes with the reckless and careless front that doesn't mesh with the slow steadiness or the deep vein of burning anger like lava or Centralia.
+
−
 
+
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The stars are brightest on the upper half of his face, and in his eyes, and in his hair, and he's teasing and he's serious and it's all plain as day. He's not hiding a damn thing. "It is an offer I make because you want to protect ''me''. It is also very heavy and you have to unpack, yet, so I will graciously allow you think on it-- ah, if you even wish to-- and I will play my sarode until I feel like going out or falling asleep."
+

Latest revision as of 05:28, 29 November 2017

The address that Sterling has for Edmond, confirmed later in the text message series Ed sent inviting her over to his place, is a small first-floor apartment in a quite shoddy building in a not especially nice neighborhood in Fort Brunsett. The hallway outside the door is narrow and dim-ish, but clean enough, and the door to number eight has been freshly painted white and the doorknob scrubbed until it gleams. It's also open a crack, and the bright red inside spills out into that dim hall.

It's a crack open just in case Sterling comes by while Edmond's got his hands full, but seeing as it's a small place, she can also see him from the crack in the door. Perhaps he's not afraid of getting shot. He is, in fact, cooking, and humming to himself as he does so; he's wearing a loose dove-grey silk shirt with the sleeves pinned up and a navy blue nehru jacket with gold embroidery over it; his jeans are black and he's wearing black slip-on shoes. The pinned-up sleeves reveal that the wood only goes up to about three-quarters up his forearms, and appears rooted to a horizon that goes up a quarter of his biceps before it hits the edge of the sky.

The scent of spices is strong but pleasant: he's gone for the korma mixes this time, rather than standard curry-style blends, especially since the door's part open and he didn't want to flood the hall when people might complain.


This time around, Sterling has gone for a more modern and understated look - she's wearing a deep blue dress, that in some ways almost mimics sportswear, with zipped pockets just below the hips. There's also a pair of pants underneath, a somewhat looser fit than leggings, and she has her usual boots - gleaming with hedgespun mist - and a black blazer over top underneath of a winter coat.

Little actual heed is paid to the building itself, or any potential neighbors, but she does stop short when she notices the freshly painted door and the crack in it. A moment's hesitation, and she lifts a hand to wrap her lightning-laced knuckles against the frame of the door.


There's a glance over his shoulder as soon as Sterling's hand touches the jamb, and there's the grin, teeth bright in his night-sky face. "Hallo! Come in dear Doctor Plague, I am sorry for not inviting you earlier, or contacting you either-- I was a bit slow to recover, and then met neighbors and cooked for them, and had to go shopping, and many things I did not expect-- please close the door behind you, Kelsey can knock if he comes by. Ah! He lives down the hall, and I think you would like each other very much."

He spins on a heel with a pot full of Stuff, and he starts pouring it into a big bowl. It doesn't match the rest of the dishes, but there are places set at the table in front of the couch, informal but Prepared. The table itself is a little bit higher than a coffee table, so people are likely expected to pick up their plates. There is no television. There is a pot of tea under a ridiculous tea cosy that was knitted to look like a big orange tabby cat.


Stepping in quietly, Sterling reaches behind herself to close the door, space-lightning glance going Edmond's way where he's cooking in the kitchen. "I'm glad to hear that you took care of yourself, and recovered," she says in answer, and actually smiles, shown by the relative brightness of her teeth when her misty flesh pulls back. Reaching up, she removes her coat, laying it over one arm. "And have made new friends. Good."

There is a clear tone of approval, and then quiet as she starts looking around, eventually just laying her coat over the couch's arm if available. "It's a little more... eclectic than I imagined," this is said while Sterling is looking down at the ridiculous tea cozy, sitting proudly on the set table.


"I like colors and bright things very much," Edmond answers the observation first, glancing up with a smile, wry and crooked. "There are not enough of them in the world outside my head, so during the times that I have a space, I flood it with what gives me comfort." The smile turns into a wide grin, the stars in his eyes sparkling. "Additionally, as it happens, it gives Kelsey something to complain about."

He comes around the grey formica counter with a big bowl of fluffy pale gold rice with saffron and bits of orange zest in it, and sets it down next to the fat orange cat tea cosy, then goes back for the bowl of Stuff he'd poured from a saucepan. It looks like some kind of chunky thick sauce, and it's set down next to the rice. "One more!" he says cheerily, then goes back for a round flat dish-- looks like it's in a cake pan-- of layered vegetables and other stuff and crunchy fried bits of dough on top. That and a pitcher of pale gold iced beverage are put down as well.

The couch can indeed have the coat laid down over the end. Edmond smooths down his jacket and unpins his sleeves, then pulls over the wooden desk chair from the typewriter table in the corner. He rocks back on his heels and gestures broadly at the couch and table, smiling winningly. "We can start without him. And-- yes, I-- did not think I would be making other friends, but it seems that even if I am determined to avoid attachments, they happen regardless of my intentions," he says sheepishly. "But I did tell you I would recover. It is still a rickety thing, recovery, but as long as I do not dwell on it, I am all right."

He gestures at the dishes. "Rice, self-explanatory, but it is orange and saffron. This is vegetable korma; this is cold and a dessert of sorts, it is aloo papri chaat. And the tea is chai, but I have black as well if you would prefer it; the pitcher is nimbu pani, which is lime and mint."


"...I imagine that I must be very boring, in your world of colors," notes the monochromatic Sterling, all deep grey and black laced with bits of silver-white lightning. She, often times, is very much like looking at a particularly animate x-ray. Turning, she carefully sits down on the couch, the halo of black nebula that is her hair slowly wending and curling around her face, and up through the air as well. "It looks delightful, Edmond. I believe I will have the... let's see... start with the rice..." she takes up a plate, putting some of the orange and saffron rice onto it. A quick turn, and she begins to add vegetable korma as well.

"As for your recovery... it always is; but do try to care for yourself. That is the most important. Some of the most beautiful things are... the most fragile." She hesitates a little on what she says, a small frown pulling at her lips and turning them downwards. It really ends up more as a deepening of shadows, there, over the light from her facial bones.

Instead, she points out as she continues to separate out food, "Friends are important. Why are you trying to avoid them?"


"You could never be boring," Edmond says with a laugh, but there is fondness behind it, in abundance. "All of your colors are in your words and your manner, in your motion and deed, in that smirk you make that you try to hide." There may be some teasing in there, but it's very slight, even if there's a grin, finally, at the end. He dishes rice and korma out for himself, and then he leans to pick up the teapot and pour for both of them, Sterling first. Hot tea won't stay hot, but the limeade will stay cold for a bit, with the ice in it. There's honey and cream for the tea, in easy reach, and Sterling's got first dibs on fixing hers if she likes.

Picking up his plate, Edmond glosses over her comment about the most beautiful things being fragile, having only a smile for it, pointed down at his plate, but when she continues and asks a question, he glances up and looks faintly embarrassed. "They are very easy to lose, and I have found that that experience is more damaging than being friendly with many and close with none, and leaving a place before becoming too attached. It is... loss is destructive. Especially when I am unprepared. But-- I cannot, this time. I cannot avoid it this time. There is already too much of myself rooted here."


"A tree without roots is more susceptible to the storm," that one may not be particularly a comment to Edmond, for Sterling's brows draw close as she leans back more on the couch. The plate is carefully set aside, and then she's busying her hands adding a dollop of honey and some cream to the tea - just a bit. Chai, afterall, is somewhat best when left nicely spicy. "...I can understand that, I think. I have... not had many close friends in years. Certainly some associates, who help me in my ventures, but I don't know that I would truly call them 'friends'."

The tea fixed, she lifts the saucer (?) and the cup, having a careful sip of it. Following that is a brisk, satisfied nod. "...I suspect you find that easier; the making of friends. I'm afraid that I've spent far too much time in the minds of others..." Those words are left to trail off.


"A hundred years in exile from this world, and I managed one. We left together. We were discovered and he was torn from me and I was smashed to pieces, unable to protect him. When I had finally pulled all those pieces back together-- not knowing what I may have left behind-- he was lost. I cannot remember his face, or his voice; I can remember the warmth of his skin and the flavor of his surprised love."

Edmond says this whilst adding honey and cream to his own tea, a brittle smile on his face, not looking up from his wooden hands and their task. "People frequently like me. I like it that they do; I have always liked them. But I do not wish to suffer a loss such as that again, so I-- I had not invested in them since returning. I did not intend to, here." He finally looks up. "But it happened. That is one reason I was dismayed when you told me that your duty calls you to vanish, piece by piece, until there is nothing remaining but memory and dream."

He sips his tea, letting the warmth seep in, and then calmly sets it down once more and picks up his plate. There's a rueful smile he gives to the x-ray woman of lightning and voids. "You are a doctor of the mind. So much time in the minds of others, needing to keep a detachment from them in order to help them-- I suspect it turns those who might be friends into patients, instead."


"...Or specimens," Sterling's correction on that front is soft, sewn with something approaching regret. She doesn't touch her food as of yet, seeming content with the tea. A breath is taken of the steam, and she shakes her head, the wild nebula of black and stars whirling around her head as if she was underwater. "...Not always. If you were a -patient-, my dear, would it ultimately be so bad? As I am now?" her smile, over the luminous teeth in her face, is somewhat tight, and she takes a sip of the tea before setting it down, drawing her plate into her lap instead.

"...But no, I don't consider you a patient, so much. To an extent, maybe? It is... difficult to put aside things that I've done for so long. I'm not, truly, anymore the woman I was before. Maybe for the best," taking up the fork, Sterling picks lightly at the vegetables before taking a bite. When she does so, a look of surprise - or at least a widening of the eyes - flits over her face. "It's sweet! Not what I expected." She has another bite.


There's a faintly regal nod of acknowledgement of the correction, and no judgement applied; Edmond starts eating as Sterling speaks, and obviously he is not surprised at the taste, since he made it-- he smiles lopsidedly, one corner of his mouth quirking up as he chews, when she says not always, when she clarifies.

He waits until she is surprised by the taste to give any answers or commentary on her words, and the first thing he says, he says with an understated, almost underhanded mischief. "I did," he points out, stars in his eyes twinkling, "specify a light lunch. These are things that would have a different flavour if I made them for Haruki; I was able to use cream and yoghurt rather than coconut milk... much of the sweetness comes from honey and golden raisins. There is tamarind chutney in the aloo papri chaat, it is also sweet, but it is tangy as well."

He balances his plate on one knee and reaches for his tea, sipping again before addressing anything else Sterling said. Then, mildly and with affection, "It would not be bad, but I have thought over your offer to see to my dreams, and I have come to the conclusion that I would far rather be a friend to you than someone you felt you needed to fix. So if I have excessive problems with nightmares, I will ask you for help only if you can assure me you would not see me differently for spending time in my mind."


Another sip of her tea, and Sterling seems to mull over what Edmond has to say, regarding his dreams and everything. Eventually, she offers to him, "I'm certain that I have seen far worse, Edmond, and I think that... often times that insight makes me -lose- sight of the other things surrounding such things. I would like to say that it would not; but I honestly don't know. I have... never really done so on an actual friend." Veins of lightning trace over the backs of her hands, and along her neck, as she explains this.

"...I can understand, at least, the desire not to have someone else in your mind. Empathize, even," the space case Wizened nods slowly, in the wake of that. She still hasn't touched the dessert, instead returning to dining on the vegetable korma. "Haruki... that name sounds somewhat familiar."


Edmond nods, setting his tea down to eat again, and again he's quietly listening, his attention an intense but not overwhelming thing. "I am certain you must have, as well. My problems, to me they are horror but to others they would be Tuesday, yes? But still, there would no doubt be detachment that I believe neither of us would wish. I do not fear you judging me, only the potential of you losing sight of who I am to you-- losing it to what I am, from a healer's perspective. Perhaps it will be different once we have spent more time together, once you have seen more of me from the outside, and it is harder to lose impressions to the coldness of fact."

There's a quick grin, then, and he waves his fork around with mockingly imperious dismissiveness. "I do not shy from the idea of you in my mind!" Then he says more seriously, "My only concern is that I used to see people from the inside, and frequently it did change my view of them, because I could not turn it off and it happened the moment we touched. I did not like most of them less, but those who knew-- it occasionally complicated our connections to each other. I like our connection as it is, Doctor Plague, and as I am, I would not be able to tell if you viewed me differently thereafter. That is what I fear."

He has his fork halfway to his mouth when she says Haruki sounds familiar, and he freezes. "Ah. I thought you knew each other better. He came by yesterday with a vast array of takeaway food. When I mentioned you and that I had been distracted from contacting you to say I was doing well, he said he had been in Cat-22 and that you were concerned for me, and he felt bad, and remembered he should look in on me. He is a slight man, Japanese. Very cute. Like a kitten."


For the most part, Sterling listens and dines, still not having touched the dessert dish at all - but she does seem to be enjoying the vegetable one. Another sip of the tea, and she wets her lips before responding after a faint, irritable frown that's there and gone, "Oh, yes, I remember him. I had meant to... tell him where to find you, but I was distracted, I'm afraid. He -did- seem concerned about your well-being." She pauses, taking a longer sip of the tea and seemingly ruminating on what she will say next.

When the cup is lowered, she continues, "I was seeking who did it, honestly, and looking into things." The cup is then placed on the table as she leans forwards, waving her lightning-pulsed hand after as if to clear out the subject. "I'm glad that he found you."


When changelings grow in power, the Wyrd listens to them. That's not cause and effect. It's a tautology. The obvious effects, the great uses of power, the increasing strangeness ... everyone in changeling society knows these. But the less obvious effects are, well, lesser.

Like someone knocking at Edmond's door perfectly in time to punctuate her last sentence.


The elemental's wooden hands slow, and he studies Sterling's reaction carefully, putting it together with what he knows of her thus far and the patterns of expressions he remembers from when he was small, and that he's seen since he's been back, since he's been closer to human again. But-- she clears the subject, so he doesn't bring up her apparent difficulty with it; he hates being called on things himself.

And at the very end of 'I'm glad that he found you', there's a knock on the door, and Edmond's eyebrows shoot straight up. One corner of his mouth quirks, and he glances toward the empty place setting, and he laughs and sets his things down to get up. "One moment, and I will tell you what I know of her, while skirting what she did," he says with a smile, moving to the door to open it.


"I believe you told me enough of what she did, last time, for me to narrow it down..." Sterling says in a quieter voice, lower so that whoever's behind the door won't be able to hear. While Edmond's seeing who's there, she finishes off her vegetable korma, and then sets the plate down. -Finally- she starts getting into the dessert (that her player can't spell), because if you're disappearing into dreams what need have you for long term healthy eating. Besides, it's Indian food.


Who's there is a slight Fairest in jeans and a hoodie, the latter unzipped to show a slice of a T-shirt printed with the Blue Marble photo of the Earth. A tail of muted candleflame hair tumbles over their shoulder. "Sorry," Kelsey says as they slip inside, automatically moving to let Edmond close the door as quickly as possible. "I only just got your note; I was out meeting with a couple of clients." That might explain the faint lavender-and-peppermint smell.


"Do not worry, I knew you were out and only hoped you might arrive before the lovely Doctor Plague had to leave," Edmond says cheerily, yes, closing the door behind Kelsey as quickly as possible. He gestures widely into the room. "Doctor Sterling, this is my other friend Kelsey; Kelsey, this is my other friend, Doctor Sterling," he says with a vast amount of self-amusement. "I do hope you enjoy poking each other with verbal sticks, you are both so very adept. It will be a pleasure to spectate."

He puts a hand lightly on Kelsey's back but doesn't push; instead he just goes back in and flumphs onto the sofa again, bright colors and dark sky mixed in with bright colors and patterns. He is not quite camouflaged. "I believe the tea is even still hot~! At any rate, I was about to say what I knew about the woman at Cat-22. And-- Sterling, honestly, it will be all right. I will tell you how you can find out more. Her name is Leitha, and I believe she was a Darkling of some sort, potentially Autumn. She was there with a mute man who also took too many notes. Dr. Isolde Garreau carried her outside afterwards, from what I understand; there was a notice about it in the paper-- she may know more. She is also a very funny person."



One wide gesture deserves another; Kelsey follows Edmond's to Sterling, and while their eyes widen a fraction, they also bow neatly over their left hand. "You're the one who lured him into low and corrupt habits like 'talking with people about things less trivial than the weather and unwise sandwich choices?' I /do/ appreciate."

Seating that won't actually intrude on the Doctor's space is sought out, the better to listen without interrupting to Edmond's list of Possible-Darkling Facts. "Which she is the very funny person?" they ask at the end. "Dr Garreau, or the other?"


One of Sterling's eyebrows presumably raises, since there's a shift of the misty shadows of her face, and then she actually laughs briefly at the commentary about 'low and corrupt habits'. "I -do- have quite the reputation as a corruptor; I fear I simply can't put it away." That's partially serious, partially in humor, and she inclines her head to Kelsey, eyes presumably on their face. "My pleasure, as is making your acquaintance." It really is quite difficult to tell where she's looking - or how exactly she's doing it.

For her part, she's wearing a grey dress probably patterned off of sportswear, with zipped pockets several inches below the hip, and a close-fitting pair of dress pants with hedgespun boots that appear to be mist just as much as her - but lit by morning light from a friendlier star, maybe.

"...Carried her out?" wonders Sterling afterwards, obviously curious. "And Doctor Garreau... Tsk. That is interesting, but I do wonder why she would be helped at all. Or was it purposefully removed?"


"Doctor Garreau," Edmond tells Kelsey patiently, with this sidelong Look that's prim at the edges because he also says, "and you are meant to poke at each other, not potentially gang up on me, that would be entirely unfair." He waves a hand airily. "Though I suppose I can wait for my entertainment." He leans to pour Kelsey tea, then nudges cream and honey across the table a little ways so Kelsey can doctor it. (Edmond's is clearly doctored.) "For the record, that is vegetable korma, saffron and orange rice, and aloo papri chaat. In the pitcher is nimbu pani, it is lime and mint," he informs the Fairest.

There's a glance to Sterling as he sits back again, this time with his tea to finish off before he has some of the chaat himself. "Apparently the woman was yelling and eyewitnesses were trying to figure out if she was drunk or on drugs or possibly Dr. Garreau's girlfriend. So probably purposefully removed."


"All consequence are always intended, of course." Kelsey flickers a smile at Edmond and manages somehow not to give any sidelong glance to Sterling to evaluate the odds of conspiracy. Then perches on the desk chair as if the back were made of ice, liable to melt or sear if leaned against. Honey is allowed to be an immediate distraction.

"Yes," they comment. "Well. If they were dating, presumably yelling would have been paid more mind." That's the limit of potentially useful commentary from that particular Fairest on that one; lack of familiarity with the people involved, apparently.



"...So probably forcibly removed in this case, due to her behavior," agrees Sterling, finishing off the remains of her food and pouring herself a bit more tea - should there be any left. Chai is quite good, afterall. Her own posture is more relaxed, and the pulses of lightning have slowed subtly, even though she's indulging in a caffeinated beverage. More cream and honey is added to it. "Doctor Garreau might, then, be a place to start for me to... proceed there. What did you say her name was, again, Leitha...?"

A look, mostly indicated a turn of the head, is sent Kelsey's way and the shadows about Sterling's teeth adjust into a smile. To Edmond, she says almost apologetically, "I'm afraid your friend has something of a... calming aura around them." That's probably something rarely said of an Autumn.


Another Look at Kelsey, and there is a muted sparkle to it, and it might be mild amusement and it might be high amusement mitigated by mutiny. But then Edmond continues.

"I was otherwise occupied at the time, but yes-- Dr. Garreau should be able to give you more information. She was also attempting to distract the woman and her apparent partner earlier in the slow spiral of disaster. It was Haruki and a girl named Mina that I was primarily speaking with prior to making my poor life choices," Edmond says easily, "and they were also attempting to stop the growing situation." A beat, and the elemental sort of curls back further into the couch as he thinks about the parts of the evening that merely had him slow-motion pantomime exploding, rather than on the floor having enough of combined hallucination and panic attack to actually injure himself. It looks like the couch might swallow him. Maybe that's why there's cloth draped over it. "Leitha... ah... Kane. But that, I fear, is all I will be able to give you on the subject."

Thankfully, Sterling is also making comments about Kelsey, and bright starry eyes glance to the Flamesiren, and the corners of Edmond's eyes crinkle, and he grins and his teeth are a bright contrast. "Kelsey is reasonable and remarkably patient with me and also very beautiful. You are both very beautiful, and so is Haruki, and I consider myself exceptionally blessed to be so surrounded by beauty."


"We're guests," Kelsey says lightly to Sterling. "I'm on good behavior. I assure you that once I'm familiar enough with the situation and the people involved to have an idea who was being an idiot and in what way, I will be far more entertainingly cranky." Poor life choices are not commented on otherwise. Possibly that one's just too easy when it's already laid out like that. Possibly they think it's impolite to steal the couch's prey.

Annnnd then there's Edmond's comment. Apparently, to Kelsey, rolling one's eyes at that 'remarkably patient' comment is an expression that needs to be almost full-body. Almost only because they're careful not to spill tea on their own hands.


"...I am usually unfortunately uninhibited in my verbal observations," well, that's fairly self-aware of Sterling, and she does sound somewhat... regretful on that front, the lightning underneath of her translucent skin stirring in a more animated fashion than it had been. She continues on afterwards, however, with a small nod, "That is usually not at all of concern to me; provided that you don't mind a response in kind." She smiles, though, or at least the shadows about her mouth shift.

"Beautiful," repeats Sterling then, sounding... amused more than anything else, on that front. "I believe most would call me 'frightful', darling. There is a reason that I usually walk about with my mask hiding... this..." she gestures with her hand. "Away from most eyes."


"I await your entertaining crankiness with bated breath," Edmond says, sounding almost zen as he cradles his tea, "so long as it is not aimed in my direction. You should eat some food. It is very different from everything Haruki brought, as it is from what I made us when we met." He does not seem interested in unfolding himself from his corner; at some point he seems to have shed his black slip-on shoes, because when he does shift, it's to bring his baked-clay feet up beneath him.

Then his gaze slides over to the x-ray doctor, and he looks somewhat affronted-- but with his words, it's clearly on her behalf. "Then most are not true aesthetes. You are more sky than I shall ever be, and yet, you are visibly more human than I: your humanity is ghosted in bone and proven in the living electricity of your shining central nervous system, and I am Doctor Frankenstein's confused attempt at mixing landscape painting with sculpture. Yet, because this 'most' of whom you speak is universally awash in media which dictates to them what is beautiful and what is not, if I am wearing clothing I am considered beautiful. Do not let 'most' tell you what you are, dear Doctor."


"I will eat some food," Kelsey assures Edmond. "It's only that the two of you are being interesting." That Kelsey doesn't mind such a response in kind is indicated by another bow, this one from their chair and far more careful than the first one. A quick little thing, not a production.

Sterling's amusement might be catching, whether or not for the same reason. Kelsey didn't find anything odd in Edmond's first calling her beautiful, after all. "If beauty and fear weren't neighbors," they observe, a peripheral little wrapup to Edmond's protest, "we'd have a shortage of cathedrals."


It's possible Sterling is raising an eyebrow again, when Edmond mentions that, having another slow sip of her tea. "...I suppose you are right; but the mask is still convenient when attending to others. The human mind, or human remnants in a mind, do not always process... seeing the functioning parts of a body well," she does, however, chuckle. However, Kelsey contributes to the conversation then and she actually makes a short, abrupt sound of surprise, "Right you are. I believe a few of them even have body parts openly on display... Perhaps, even, the fear of the macabre and lack of awe is more of a modern thing among the general population."

She's rising then, afterwards, and asking of Edmond, "May I use your washroom, please? Just point me in the direction." She'll go where he instructs.


"Of course," Edmond says, and then looks somewhat apologetic. "I have not managed to bleach all of the stains out. The door is that one," he answers, pointing. It is, as all washrooms in this building, a bit of a claustrophobic nightmare. But at least there's a scented candle.

His gaze, as Sterling vanishes therein, slides slowly to Kelsey, and his eyebrows lift. "You have a calming aura about you, I hear."


Let's face it. Edmond's 'have not managed to bleach all of the stains out' is still probably the cleanest in the building.

Kelsey lowers lashes for the specific purpose of looking at Edmond through them. Looking flatly at Edmond through them. "Don't make me have to murder you with a doctor in the next room. It'd be so impolite."

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