capeandcowl2020 | Open Post 002

[When Vladimir returns, there is a long pause between Davesprite's writing. He had to be careful when he gave out addresses, and he couldn't bring her to any particular base of operation without endangering the people there. It wasn't that he didn't trust Nill, but years had past, and he couldn't risk someone untrustworthy following her.

He shifts his footing on the railing to make sure nobody looking out the window would spot him as he moves up the rest of the building, shifting half way admist his climb so he could fly away. He's gone in a split second, as he's no longer the size of a fifteen year old sprite, but a twenty three year old. He makes full use of his powers so nobody will see the orange bird flying leisurely through the nighttime sky.

Vladimir flies down to Nill one last time as he departs. On the piece of paper, an address located downtown. A busy place, where nobody would be focused enough to pay attention to an odd looking person or two walking amongst them.]

[The time he takes doesn't make her fidget less, even though she knows there's likely a good reason for it. Nowadays, few people do anything without thinking hard about it first. He's likely trying to think of the best, least unsafe place. She'd suggest her hotel room, if it wouldn't be nearly impossible to get him inside without anyone noticing. A young woman staying alone can't just take a person up to her hotel room without the staff starting to gossip. No need for any sort of meeting to be too conspicuous.

Her gaze follows him as he moves up the building, and she feels something in her stomach turn as he starts to fly. Another thing she'll probably never be able to do again. She won't ask John (she hasn't even talked to him in so long), and she won't ask Davesprite. Wants hardly ever factor above needs anymore.

The address is vaguely familiar, and she gives the crow a gently stroke before scrawling out a time for later in the evening, hoping it'll work for him. If it doesn't, she won't feel too bad about it. Sometimes, things just don't work out. She'll take her time getting to the address; a few bucks for a drink at the hotel bar, a long shower, and a slow walk there.]

[Davesprite is, if one thing, very punctual these days. Its hard not to be in his line of work, let alone with his abilities backing him up. His platinum blond hair stands out too much, so Davesprite is wearing an inconspicuous black hooded jacket. Vladimir does not appear to have joined him this evening. No need to call attention to himself with a crow on his shoulder. Thankfully, he had managed to get his bird attraction powers under control, so a flock wasn't following him around the entire time.

It makes him a little harder to find, but the second he spots Nill, he'll fall into step next to her so that they can both walk to their destination unharried.]

You got taller.

[Nill is dressed as plainly as she ever is, in a dark jacket and dark jeans with dark boots. Wearing bright colors had never been to her liking; she had always preferred soft pastels or neutrals. Switching to blacks and grays hadn't been much of a leap. And, as always, it keeps her from sticking out too much. She's always thankful for her unassuming, petite features nowadays.

The presence of another person sets her on edge for a moment. She thinks of striking, of disorienting and running away. She can't scream, she certainly can't shoot. Put him down quickly and quietly, and she can be on her way out of the City in two hours at best.

But then he speaks and her muscles relax.

A glance over to him shows that he had gotten taller too. He dwarfs her, really. But that isn't uncommon; she's nearly certain that being grown in a test tube had somehow stunted her growth. A sincere smile is her answer, along with a nod acknowledging his own height. They aren't kids anymore, there's no doubt about that.]

[The smile he offers is a bit disarming, no doubt a trick he had learned along the years to talk people into favors. Its second-nature by this point. He might have reserved something less intimidating for a friend, if he had been aware of it.]

My bad for making such a quick exit earlier.

[There's enough noise around that nobody bothers to pay attention to either of them as he slips off to the side down an allyway, waiting for her to follow. Ahead, a light, no doubt to an import friendly bar.]

Can't be too careful, you know?

[His expression does catch her off guard. He never used to smile, much less like that. Not for the first time since she'd seen him on the railing, she wonders what he's been doing. There have been vague hints from a friend here and there, but nothing concrete. And she highly doubted that he'd tell her himself even if she asked. She doesn't know if the realization hurt more or less than expected.

The place they're headed towards is familiar, though it's been a while since she's set foot inside. More from absence than anything else. Though it still sometimes earned itself a place as a stop on her general circuit of the City during her few visits.

A small nod is her only reply at first. Being careful is what she's doing now, eyes wide and watchful for anything (or anyone) out of the ordinary. But it really does seem to be just the two of them, and so she lets a hand brush briefly against his arm.]

Things are bad.

[Her voice might sound fainter than it used to, likely from a long disuse of her powers. When one travels so often and attempts to stay out of any kind of light, there isn't much opportunity for telepathy. Actually being mute is generally easier, but she doesn't know if he's ever learned sign language or not. She only has the one voice at the moment, so she might as well use it.]

[He pauses when he hand touches his arm, an eyebrow raising expectantly before he notices the voice in his head. He almost kicks himself for nearly forgetting that she had that power. Ever since Tavros had disappeared, telepaths had stayed far away from him and his dual-minded tendencies. The bird was never particularly strong, unless you were sensitive to animals.

Nobody ever wanted to take the chance. He scoffs a little and shrugs.]

They ain't that bad.

[It was the understatement of the century, but false optimism was how he made things better for people who couldn't handle the fact that, yes, things were very bad, especially for people like them. He turns back around and continues walking, hands stuffed in his pockets.

He pauses by the door to consider. Its hard to see expressions, hidden behind his aviators, but there's a slight furrow to his brow. Days ago, he had rescued Karkat from being arrested and taken away for execution no doubt -- for merely trying to make due with the shitty laws and state of living. For being an import.

A sigh escapes him as he opens the door.]

Alright, yeah, I guess things are pretty bad.

[Nill wonders if he still thinks she wants (or needs) that optimism. A façade of acting as if everything is better than it really is only works when you're a kid. She's not anymore, and neither is he. It's stupid to pretend otherwise.

Then again, she doubts he knows what she's been up to since she left the City, just as she has little knowledge of his movements. It's unlikely that he's left the city limits often, if at all. But what he's done while inside the City? She has no clue.

She's careful, at least, to leave no trace of herself where-ever she goes. The account Heine left her is secure, unable to be tracked. She doesn't frequent small towns where someone might remember her. Contacts are few, friends even fewer. Someone to drink with here, someone for company into the long hours of the night there, but never anything permanent. She wonders if he's found either of those in the City.

She doesn't say anything about his initial lie, waiting patiently for him to correct it and open the door.

An amused smirk slips to her face once he does both (no doubt out of some sense of chivalry), and she maneuvers around him to enter the bar.

While he might be easy to recognize, Nill assumes she isn't. The easy way to remedy that would be to take off her jacket and let her wings show--but that would also mean exposing her weapons, which was never a good idea in front of anyone, let alone imports. So any stares are accepted and brushed off as she waits for him to take the lead.]

[Which he does. Dave gets plenty of stares himself, some longer than others. Nobody appears friendly enough with him to come up and greet him -- most seem unsure, as if they recognize him but have no way of affirming. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to introduce himself.

The bartender, however, is a different story. Davesprite has to awkwardly smooth talk (which, of course being Davesprite, is hardly smooth at all) his way out of a hug, but he won't say no outright to a pair of free drinks. He'd slip the money for them somewhere later.

He grabs a screwdriver for himself and glances sideways at Nill expectantly. He doesn't sit down at the bar, though. He has a table in mind, out of the way, so he didn't have to worry quite as much about what he said or who was listening.]

[They way they look at him is noted, filed away for later. She doesn't do it consciously; observing, gathering information, is simply second nature for her now. She considers, though, what might make them look at him this way. Is he dangerous? Most definitely. But not in this place, she doesn't think.

Her thoughts are shattered, of course, at the almost-hug. That's something. Maybe the bartender is just very hands-on, or maybe there's something else there that Nill isn't seeing. She tries not to read too much into it. This isn't business, it isn't her job to know. If anything, it's her job to not know right now. Whatever Davesprite has been doing, he almost certainly wouldn't want her involved, and she wouldn't involve herself.

The thoughts, hopefully, will fade with the vodka cranberry she orders with a note scratched on a spare napkin. That earns her a few more stares, but she forces herself not to stare back. It's become a habit, almost, a deterrent from having to hear any questions about why she writes nearly everything. She takes her drink once it's made and turns to him, waiting again.]

[Once all the awkward exchanges are out of the way, Davesprite ducks away from the crowd and heads toward the back of the bar. If one thing hadn't changed, it was his need to stay under the radar. He doesn't bother waiting to sit before taking a sip of his drink--it had been somewhat of a long day for him and while seeing Nill back in town was exciting, it was out of the ordinary and a little jarring.

Seeing his old friends usually felt like that. It was easier to pretend he didn't have any. But he'd never say that, especially since he didn't really believe it himself.]

So.

[He starts, moving to sit in the furthest corner booth, gesturing for Nill to sit with him. He pulls a fistfull of paper out of his hood to rest on the table with a pen. Just as he hadn't made assumptions on her drink, he wasn't about to make assumptions about her usage of powers -- if they were still close enough for such things.]

You came back.

[Catching sight of Davesprite wasn't any less shocking for her. Familiar faces were difficult to see. Not because she was upset that they had moved on--that was expected, and frankly, she was glad for it. Staying in the past is difficult. No, what made it hard was knowing that she missed it all. She missed having friends to laugh and joke with, missed getting a hug now and then, missed the casual way she used to hold their hands to keep half a conversation secret. How could she ignore any of it?

With a lot of hard work, maybe some day she could. As she follows him, she works her face into a mask, devoid of anything but mild geniality. Her guard is up, as always, but when he's making small gestures like providing her with plenty of paper to write on, it might not stay up for long. She chastises herself, making herself think about how people change. Kanaya had literally become a nun, Jake had made a fool of himself to the comedy world, and Calvin had actually aged. The unexpected had become the everyday over the past few years. She knows she'd do best to remember that.

The blonde slides into a seat beside him, tasting her own drink. More vodka than cranberry. Perfect.

She takes the pen and selects a shred of paper. Her writing is neater than it used to be, a necessity overseas. Clients were less likely to take someone with ugly handwriting seriously.]

And you're still here.

[It's a test, she tells herself. Not an accusation.]

[Davesprite hadn't changed much, in comparison to everyone else. He had grown up a little, though hadn't quite lost his martyr complex. It was considerably more in check, managed by throwing himself into menial tasks to help others rather than letting himself sit and fester until a time when someone actually needed him. Busy work, some would call it.

Now that they were on their own, Davesprite leans back and nearly finishes the drink in one long gulp. He never got any better at socializing over the years. In fact, its possible he had gotten worse.

At first, it seems like he's only going to nod to her observation. Then after another moment, he speaks.]

No other place for me to be.

[The small smirk that followed it denotes that he actually believed what he was saying, rather than admitting to a simple, resigned belief. He tilts his head in his peculiar avian way, obviously curious.]

Why come back?

[Meanwhile, Nill has done her best to completely do away with her own martyr complex. Once she'd removed herself from the company of people she truly cared about, it hadn't been entirely difficult. But she still worries as much as ever, no matter how much she tries to pretend she doesn't. She dreads the day when she receives the phone call or letter that will relay the news of a loved one's nearly inevitable demise.

Breathe, Nill. This is a social visit now.

She'd take a hint from him and finish off her own drink if she weren't trying so hard to keep a level head. This isn't the time for her to become fourteen again. Her social skills are up to par on a normal day, but there's an extra sense of caution she's holding on to. The time he takes to speak is used by her to gather her thoughts.

Immediately, she thinks of at least four different people who would pay a small fortune to have him be somewhere else--namely, closer to them. But that isn't what he does, she knows. He can still hold on to the people he cares about from a distance, but still in the same city. He has his sense of duty, the one she'd never understood. The freedom to up and leave whenever she wanted to was something she had learned to savored after doing it for the first time.

But now she is back, and she can understand how that warrants an inquiry. Her answer comes slower, written carefully.]

Checking up. I'm not here for long.

[It's harder to write than she'd anticipated.]

[The "I'm not here for long" gets a small chuckle from him.]

Didn't think you would be. You'd be crazy to stay.

[He nudges the glass away from himself with a little still left for when he deems it necessary, angling his chair against the wall and leaning back against it. In truth, were it not for the fact that he knew so many of his friends were still in the City, he might have tried to leave himself. It was getting harder and harder to hide himself. Every time they installed another power jammer, the more at risk he became, due to the fact that his true form was his sprite form and not the human form he always walked around in. It was impossible to hide his glowing orange self without the assistance of time manipulation to get him out of dodge even then.

He knew it. Most people he was in contact with knew it. A few people had tried to talk him into leaving, but it would never happen. Not until everyone else left before him.]

Got a place to crash, at least?

[He folds his arms over his chest.]

Edited (syntax lol) 2013-03-06 00:17 (UTC)

[She wonders if he's calling himself crazy on purpose. It wouldn't surprise her.

The City held some of her best memories, but as time had gone on, also more and more of the worst. She hadn't wanted to despoil the good experiences by letting the bad pile up. And so leaving had been her decision. Getting on the first boat (it was easier to travel incognito on a boat, especially one whose captain accepted cash payments) had been difficult, but once she'd lost sight of the docks, her uncertainty had slipped away. Some people cut their hair as a new beginning, some people left the continent.

Her next sip is bigger, more bracing. She thinks she needs it.]

A hotel. One more night.

[Her hand hovers over the page for a moment. She remembers where he'd been before she'd found him that November when she'd found him near the church.]

You?

[He doesn't reach for his drink this time. He knows she's not going to like the answer, but he gives it confidently.]

When I need it.

[A shrug accompanies it. He's definitely better off than he had been, perhaps due to the fact that he had gained his barings and found something to do other than taking the fall for everyone else. Even if that was, in part, still what he was doing.

He sits up a little, noticing the way her hand hovers.]

So. If you need it...

[He lets the sentence hang. He doesn't need to finish it.]

[She can't hide the way her expression sours at his answer. The old instinct to care for people is kicking in. Her mind considers when the last time he might have slept in a real bed was, or if he's spoken to Rose about his living situation. The latter is highly unlikely, she realizes, but it's still a thought that crosses her mind.

The offer is entirely unexpected. Being offered a place to stay, by an old friend of all people, isn't something that's happened to her often. At all, really. She's always been the one to offer help. The tables have turned in a way for which she wasn't prepared.

A finger traces the rim of her glass as she considers. It would be a bad idea to leave her hotel early; it would bring about questions she literally couldn't answer. But another night in the City wouldn't hurt, so long as she had somewhere to go. And it would give her time to catch up with him and, if he was willing to share, on other acquaintances. The offer is one she doesn't feel like she can refuse.

But she can't exactly write that. It would seem too easy, somehow.]

I'll be homeless tomorrow. Flight doesn't leave for two more days.

[Usually, she'd just take another hotel, one closer to the airport. But this possibility would probably be even more low key than she could hope.]

[Davesprite nods a bit and pauses to slip out a phone from his pocket. It was a prepaid phone, mostly untraceable and locked down. He'd be trading it for a new one soon anyway as a precaution that had yet to fail him. But for now, it would do.]

You might have company. That cool with you?

[He'd look up expectantly after asking the question. There was no indication of who that company would be, but he'd want an honest answer regardless. He wasn't entirely sure about Nill's comfort levels now that she was no longer in the City, or what she had gotten up to overseas. It wasn't his business. But he'd help an old friend if he could.]

[For a moment, she eyes the phone. She's used dozens like it herself, and it's all that surprised to see that he has one of his own. To be honest, she'd be surprised if any import didn't have a phone like that. It was practical, and really just good sense. Even a registered import had plenty to fear from a government trace on a phone call. Any excuse to detain an import, whether legitimate or trumped up, was to be avoided at all costs.

She doesn't hesitate before nodding. As suspicious as she's grown over the years, she can't deny that she still trusts him. Davesprite is a good person, she knows that. He wouldn't put her in danger. Besides, she's sure that whomever she might have as company, she can take care of herself around them.]

[He gives a steady nod and takes a moment to play with the phone in silence, no doubt putting out a few requests to whomever he knew for a bed for the evening tomorrow night. It takes him a good three minutes, but afterward, he sets the phone aside on the table and reaches for his drink.

He tries not to let the silence hang for long. Its still hard for him, socializing, even if he had gotten a little better at it. Especially socializing with Nill, after he had put her and the orphanage in so much danger prior to their time here.]

I can't promise it'll be as nice as a hotel, but its a roof, hot water, and heating.

[By the time he's finished making his texts, she's finished off her drink and is contemplating another. The thought of sleeping under a roof arranged for by him was somewhat more comforting than any hotel could be. A small part of her cautions that it's still dangerous, possibly a very bad idea. But the opportunity to perhaps see another person whom she hadn't in so long was too tempting to ignore.

One finger goes back to circling the glass as she lays her hand briefly on his arm again. She's in no mood to continue writing now. This is easier, even if forming a reply takes a little longer than it used to.]

A roof would be enough.

[She lifts her hand away for a bare moment before setting it right back where it came from, an afterthought.]

Thank you.

[It's the first time in a long time she's said that. Not that she didn't have plenty to be thankful for back in Europe--it just didn't always feel right. But it does right now]

[Davesprite blinks evenly -- she might notice he doesn't stiffen or jump as he used to as a teenager. Still not quite comfortable, but not so intensely out of his comfort zone as it had been just a few years prior. He doesn't offer a hand back, but his small smile returns.]

You don't have to thank me. All the above is the least I can do.

[He glances at her empty glass.]

You down for another?

[After all, he did pick up money earlier today.]

[Small things to remember, but she recalls them all the same. Her perception of physical contact wavers every so often, but slipping into the comfort she'd had as a teenager isn't so hard as she thought it would be. She's fine with her hand staying on his arm and no more. Tucked back in the corner like this, it's easier to forget that she's mute and he's more or less perpetuating the appearance of a one-sided conversation. It's a bad idea, but she can pretend, for a few moments, that this is normal.]

It's definitely more of a welcome than I was expecting.

[Mostly because it had been from someone who knew her. She'd already heard from Rose that she--what was it? Looked different without the lolita. That power had been under control for years now, and most days she ignored its existence altogether.

Reciprocating his smile is easy.]

Always.

[Oh yes, she remembers.]

[He pats her hand reassuringly before lifting off the wall to straighten his chair, scooting out from the narrow space without much difficulty. In a few short moments, he's back with four drinks as opposed to two -- two vodka canberries and two screwdrivers. He doesn't say anything in regards to it, merely setting them on the table and resituating himself in his chair against the wall.]

So what's been goin' down in The Land of Lolitas and Birds? I hear Europe's a snazzy place.

[Aside from the occasional shipment from Lachesis, it was clear Davesprite had yet to leave the City from that comment alone. He doesn't seem upset about it, but he was always pretty good at hiding emotions. He picks up one of his screwdrivers and spins the ice in the glass.

He pauses for a second and shifts his shoulders.]

I mean, if you wanna share.

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