[Kyna wakes up in her bed like nothing has happened, except that she's utterly disoriented and being completely bombarded by notifications on her fucking implant. After over a year of not having it, that's a little panic inducing, to say the least. Not nearly as panic inducing as when she realizes that according to New Amsterdam, she's only been gone a week, which sends her into a very fun existential tailspin for a moment. Fuck this place.
But then there's the messages, the most emotional of which are by far Ian's. And, okay—maybe most people wouldn't read them as particularly intense, minus the last one, but Kyna knows Ian well enough to read the panic behind the cajoling. Sure, he'd said it would hurt if she left, but seeing it is something else entirely, and she has to fight down a misplaced rush of guilt. She replies before she even leaves her room to try to find Lance.]
hey i'm back no one night stands though, sorry are you home?
[Being called an asshole is oddly comforting, actually.]
okay okay give me a second
[Because she is not two minutes away, and she has to respond to a bunch of other shit, and Jesus, this is stressful. But she gets there, and she knocks on the door like a normal human being instead of just phasing through it.]
[ Unlike a normal human, Ian doesn't pull the door open. He's getting pretty damn good with his power now, and it's a quick two-part sequence of events: bend the bolt on the lock back, bend the hinges so the door swings open. It's faster than twisting the handle, he's not ashamed.
Anyway, there's no time to comment on it. He does not sweep in to hug her so much as bodily pick her up around the waist and squeeze the crap out of her a few inches off the ground. Like a happy hugging snake or something. ]
[Oh, hi Ian. She was mentally preparing herself for a hug, but not being crushed, and she lets out a quiet sound of complaint. After the last couple supremely shitty months she had at home though, she totally soaks the contact in, burying her face in his shoulder.]
I freaked you out, didn't I? I'm sorry.
[If he actually takes a look at her, it might become clear that she was home for more than just a few days. Her hair is long, halfway down her back, and there are a few new scars on her arms.]
[ He's never shied away from physical contact in the first place, slap on how much of a damn heart attack she gave him and he's remorseless about constricting the breath out of her for a little too long.
When he finally sets her down again, his hands don't leave her biceps. Just gonna... hold her there for a minute so she doesn't disappear.
(Behind them, the door closes itself. Ish. It takes a turn of his head to look, but that only takes a second.) ]
What in the hell happened?
[ Demanded in time with his eyes tracking over her properly for the first time, clocking the changes. Small differences that add up. Just a little more of something hidden in her face, longer hair, new scars.
[The empathy bond delivers a strange mix of emotions—relief, guilt, a hint of discomfort. This is awkward to talk about, and she doesn't really have the words to talk about it.]
I was home. I mean, for longer than a week. I guess I was only gone for a week here but it was... It was like, over a year to me. It doesn't feel like that long, though. Not totally. [She takes the tiniest possible pause.] It does and it doesn't?
[And then she makes a face, not sure any of this is making sense and completely aware she's rambling like an idiot.]
[ The empathy bond hits him delayed just like everything else, a few seconds off before he remembers to tug his hands quickly up over her shirt sleeves. It's the discomfort and the awkwardness that drives it, and he doesn't think twice about it.
A year. ]
Jesus.
[ Breathed out, just shy of speechless. ]
No- come on, god—
[ Quickly, and without any real complete sentences. ]
You scared the shit out of me, you can talk as much as you want.
[She didn't actually mind him feeling it, for once. It feels like a silly thing to worry about when he was so plainly upset over her disappearance. It does spare him from another rush of guilt though, both for the fact that she worried him and for the fact that he was here, freaking out, and she didn't remember him at all. It's fucking awful and unfair. Maybe that's what drives her to throw her arms around him again and be honest without the endless worrying about how he'll react.]
I'm sorry. I'm so fucking glad you're still here. I would have totally lost it if you weren't.
[Who needs the empathy bond? Emotion is making her voice a little unsteady anyway.]
[ He hugs her this time without breaking her back, though he still lifts her up a little onto her toes. She's like a foot shorter than him, that's just the way these things go sometimes.
And yeah, there's something really compromising going on with his emotions right now, but he already made himself way too transparent with permanent evidence in her inbox. ]
I want you to know that I handled it super well.
[ He says, somewhere over her head. ]
I was basically a rock in this time of crisis, and you should definitely not ask anyone about it.
[ He scoffs in tandem with lowering his arms down again, releasing her once more back into the great wide yonder of his front entry space. ]
Sounds fake, never heard of him. Come on-- go sit down. I made like six new batches while you were gone for no reason and shut up about it.
[ THEY BOTH KNOW WHY. He's getting so close tho, so close. Please allow him to pour you a nice fresh glass of Attempt 14 so you can tell him all about where the FUCK YOU'VE BEEN. ]
[It's funny how Ian so instantly makes her feel more at ease. There's no awkward dancing around what happened, no sudden distance and discomfort like with Fenris. It's like no time has passed at all, and while she knows he's probably going to ask about what the fuck went down at home, she realizes she's not anxious about it. Even though he's joking around to downplay his own concern, she feels a sudden rush of affection for him. They both suck at this, but it's nice to feel on even footing with someone who so obviously cares about her.
Sunny D again, though. God. She goes to sit, sighing dramatically.]
I can't believe you're torturing me as soon as I get back. I didn't even touch Sunny D the entire time I was home.
[ In the most chill-scandalized tone any human has ever been able to generate. They each get a glass with a notably smaller portion of tequila than he might've done before throw in, and then plunks hers down in front of her. Takes a seat across, and then— no beating around the bush. ]
What the fuck, man? Why's your hair long, what's with the badass scars?
[Kyna wrinkles her nose, but doesn't answer right away. Instead, she focuses on practically chugging half of her drink. Super healthy coping mechanisms.
It isn't that she doesn't want to tell him, just that she doesn't know where to start. She hasn't discussed this with anyone that wasn't there.
So she sets down her drink and flops back on the couch.]
[ Good news, Ms. Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Ian's been taught a new and fun way to support your friends — wait until she gets regretfully drunk and then make her go jogging at 5 a.m. Apparently two days of that cures angst-drinking temporarily; at least, it did for him.
He curls his fingers around his glass and levels her with a deeply furrowed brow.
[It's a great answer, but it's really just her stalling, because Jesus. She's pointedly not looking at him, as though that will make talking about this easier. Part of it is also just that there's so many silly world specific details to this, and she doesn't know how to explain succinctly.]
So, uh... Usually in most major cities there's a unit for occult crimes, but... Most people who can use magic are from really old families, and it's kind of taboo for them to do that kind of work, so you've got a lot of new kids working in them without a ton of background knowledge. My brother can't use magic, but he has the background knowledge, and he doesn't give a fuck what our family thinks, so that's what he does.
[Maybe barrelling through it like this is best. Not getting tangled up in nitty gritty details or the emotions of it. Rapid fire.]
Anyway, he started noticing people going missing or turning up dead, and he thought they fit a pattern, but it was probably tied to some ritual or something. And a lot of times the cops don't want to go after big shit like that, because there's just... bullshit politics at play, right? Not worth the trouble. And these people were the kinds that they think no one will miss—they were homeless or drug addicts or whatever. He pushed as much as he could on it, and then he couldn't anymore, so he tossed it to me and asked if I could figure anything out that his boss couldn't ignore. So we did.
[Usually, that sort of morbid cheer would get her to smile, but it doesn't this time. Still, it's sort of... nice that he's letting her lead with this. It makes it easier, somehow, or as easy as it can be. It doesn't ease the pit in her stomach, but it's something.]
I don't know when, but sometime after he left, I guess he... made a deal with something. A really shitty deal. Sometimes people bind themselves to spirits to make themselves stronger, you know? If they're stupid, I mean. And this thing was draining him.
[She makes a face, amends awkwardly.]
Killing him. The only way he knew how to slow it down was to give it other people to use up instead.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a week-ish later i hope lizard ian can still understand language
But then there's the messages, the most emotional of which are by far Ian's. And, okay—maybe most people wouldn't read them as particularly intense, minus the last one, but Kyna knows Ian well enough to read the panic behind the cajoling. Sure, he'd said it would hurt if she left, but seeing it is something else entirely, and she has to fight down a misplaced rush of guilt. She replies before she even leaves her room to try to find Lance.]
hey
i'm back
no one night stands though, sorry
are you home?
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Jesus Christ you asshole
I'll be home in like 2 minutes
report to my office
[ which is to say, he'd just left home but now he's coming right back. ]
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okay okay
give me a second
[Because she is not two minutes away, and she has to respond to a bunch of other shit, and Jesus, this is stressful. But she gets there, and she knocks on the door like a normal human being instead of just phasing through it.]
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Anyway, there's no time to comment on it. He does not sweep in to hug her so much as bodily pick her up around the waist and squeeze the crap out of her a few inches off the ground. Like a happy hugging snake or something. ]
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I freaked you out, didn't I? I'm sorry.
[If he actually takes a look at her, it might become clear that she was home for more than just a few days. Her hair is long, halfway down her back, and there are a few new scars on her arms.]
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When he finally sets her down again, his hands don't leave her biceps. Just gonna... hold her there for a minute so she doesn't disappear.
(Behind them, the door closes itself. Ish. It takes a turn of his head to look, but that only takes a second.) ]
What in the hell happened?
[ Demanded in time with his eyes tracking over her properly for the first time, clocking the changes. Small differences that add up. Just a little more of something hidden in her face, longer hair, new scars.
That's more than a week.
She went home, didn't she? ]
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I was home. I mean, for longer than a week. I guess I was only gone for a week here but it was... It was like, over a year to me. It doesn't feel like that long, though. Not totally. [She takes the tiniest possible pause.] It does and it doesn't?
[And then she makes a face, not sure any of this is making sense and completely aware she's rambling like an idiot.]
Ugh, just tell me to shut up.
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A year. ]
Jesus.
[ Breathed out, just shy of speechless. ]
No- come on, god—
[ Quickly, and without any real complete sentences. ]
You scared the shit out of me, you can talk as much as you want.
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I'm sorry. I'm so fucking glad you're still here. I would have totally lost it if you weren't.
[Who needs the empathy bond? Emotion is making her voice a little unsteady anyway.]
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And yeah, there's something really compromising going on with his emotions right now, but he already made himself way too transparent with permanent evidence in her inbox. ]
I want you to know that I handled it super well.
[ He says, somewhere over her head. ]
I was basically a rock in this time of crisis, and you should definitely not ask anyone about it.
[ Specifically, Lance or Nate. ]
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Okay, Dwayne Johnson. Sam said you really missed me.
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Sounds fake, never heard of him. Come on-- go sit down. I made like six new batches while you were gone for no reason and shut up about it.
[ THEY BOTH KNOW WHY. He's getting so close tho, so close. Please allow him to pour you a nice fresh glass of Attempt 14 so you can tell him all about where the FUCK YOU'VE BEEN. ]
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Sunny D again, though. God. She goes to sit, sighing dramatically.]
I can't believe you're torturing me as soon as I get back. I didn't even touch Sunny D the entire time I was home.
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[ In the most chill-scandalized tone any human has ever been able to generate. They each get a glass with a notably smaller portion of tequila than he might've done before throw in, and then plunks hers down in front of her. Takes a seat across, and then— no beating around the bush. ]
What the fuck, man? Why's your hair long, what's with the badass scars?
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My hair's always this long. And I was working while I was home. A lot of bullshit happened. I don't know.
[As in, she doesn't know where to start.]
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[ Thank you very much, he has a pretty solid memory.
But that's totally not the important part of this conversation. ]
Expound on a lot of bullshit.
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It isn't that she doesn't want to tell him, just that she doesn't know where to start. She hasn't discussed this with anyone that wasn't there.
So she sets down her drink and flops back on the couch.]
I fucked up really bad.
[Good start.]
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He curls his fingers around his glass and levels her with a deeply furrowed brow.
Ok, slowly but surely pulling these teeth here. ]
Expound upon fucked up really bad.
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[It's a great answer, but it's really just her stalling, because Jesus. She's pointedly not looking at him, as though that will make talking about this easier. Part of it is also just that there's so many silly world specific details to this, and she doesn't know how to explain succinctly.]
I told you my brother's a cop, right?
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That means it has to be something big, or at least impactful. ]
Yeah, you mentioned it I think. A while back.
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[Maybe barrelling through it like this is best. Not getting tangled up in nitty gritty details or the emotions of it. Rapid fire.]
Anyway, he started noticing people going missing or turning up dead, and he thought they fit a pattern, but it was probably tied to some ritual or something. And a lot of times the cops don't want to go after big shit like that, because there's just... bullshit politics at play, right? Not worth the trouble. And these people were the kinds that they think no one will miss—they were homeless or drug addicts or whatever. He pushed as much as he could on it, and then he couldn't anymore, so he tossed it to me and asked if I could figure anything out that his boss couldn't ignore. So we did.
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His expression turns grim. ]
Is this gonna be one of those stories where it turns out your boss was in on it?
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Nope. Good guess, though. It was my dad.
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[ Announced cheerfully, but with a distinct lack of cheer in the background. ]
As if I need another reason to hate that fuckin' guy.
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[Usually, that sort of morbid cheer would get her to smile, but it doesn't this time. Still, it's sort of... nice that he's letting her lead with this. It makes it easier, somehow, or as easy as it can be. It doesn't ease the pit in her stomach, but it's something.]
I don't know when, but sometime after he left, I guess he... made a deal with something. A really shitty deal. Sometimes people bind themselves to spirits to make themselves stronger, you know? If they're stupid, I mean. And this thing was draining him.
[She makes a face, amends awkwardly.]
Killing him. The only way he knew how to slow it down was to give it other people to use up instead.
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