interstellar5555 | NO FEAR [OPEN]

Entry tags:

NO FEAR [OPEN]

Who: Steven and anybody in the Defying Atmosphere penthouse.
What: Greg is rewarded with a slightly used pet child.
When: About 24 hours after the SC concert where he gets kidnapped.
Where: DA's penthouse in Virgo HQ.
Warnings: There is a laundry list of things wrong with this situation.

No matter the intention, the violence of being kidnapped leaves a mark on a person, and that's the lingering anxiety that Steven feels now. He was pulled away from his life once again, as terrible as it might have been. He was manhandled, drugged, and dragged off somewhere else, even as he pleaded, for fear of angering his keepers again.

There was a period of claustraphobic darkness followed by a time where blinding white is all he can remember. And then, suddenly, he finds himself here...a penthouse that is totally unfamiliar to him, and is told that he's going to be with his dad now.

He doesn't know if he can believe it, or what he should do. So, once he's left alone, all he does is curl himself up on one of the couches and wait. He's been dressed in fresh clothing, simple in comparison to anything he's made a habit of wearing - the flashes of pink cracklines are still bright on his exposed skin.

He has no control over anything anymore. He may as well stop pretending.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Of course you are, dear," Rarity says soothingly, stroking the child's hair and daintily avoiding the odd cracks of light spreading across his skin. She has no idea what they are and is therefore not about to touch them. "There's no need to apologize. You get some rest, alright?"

Where is Greg when she needs him?

He's right over here.

"Uh--Rarity." Greg freezes in the doorway, a big take-out bag of burgers cradled in his hands. He knew the odds were one or all of his bandmates would find Steven here soon, but he still has no clue how to explain any of this to them.

"H-hey. This is, uhh." He dares pace in a little further, setting the bag down by the couch. "This is Steven."

Steven blinks heavily, something about Greg's returned presence making him tune in more clearly to the fact that Rarity is a friend. Having context makes it a bit easier for him to process, when it's clear he isn't just inconveniencing a random strange. He sits up a little, smiling tiredly at his dad, and then looking at Rarity again.

"Are you...you're from his band?" He sounds happy to hear it, in a confused kind of way.

Goodness, that was convenient. Rarity starts a bit and looks up to see Greg coming in. "Oh!" It's not much of an explanation, but at least it's something. The wheels start turning in her head: Greg knows the child - Steven. Steven certainly is happy to see Greg, or at least as happy as it seems he can be right now. Greg had mentioned remembering having a son...

But that didn't make any sense - the ages didn't match - how-

"I am, yes! It's lovely to meet you, Steven," Rarity says with as much of a smile as she can manage. "Now, how would you like some hot chocolate? I think that would be perfect right now." She straightens up, heading for the kitchen. "Greg, dear, will you please come help me?" Steven may not pick up on the subtle edge in her voice, but Greg should. She doesn't want help; she wants to talk, and she is not taking no for an answer.

Greg smiles at Steven. "Yeah. She plays our violin. And, ha, helps me figure out outfits sometimes." All times.

His grin wanes at Rarity's request. Yeah, he saw this coming. "Sure, be right there." He gives Steven a quick squeeze of the shoulder. "Eat up, pal, there's plenty to go around. Back in a sec." Reluctantly, he goes to the kitchen, like a naughty student sent to the principal's.

"Okay," Steven says, not reading into the tension in that exchange at all on account of being generally out of focus. He's not super hungry - he never is, these days, due to reoccurring nausea - but he thinks he can give it a try. As Greg and Rarity leave he starts sleepily investigating the bag.

The door to the kitchen is rarely ever closed, but the occasion certainly warrants it. Rarity clicks it shut behind Greg and tries for a smile. She isn't quite successful. "Greg. Dear. There is a small child on our couch. There is something severely wrong with that small child. You don't seem at all surprised. Would you care to explain?" She's fighting very hard to keep her voice from wavering throughout her words; of everything she's had to handle this month, this is somehow the one for which she is least prepared.

Greg leans heavily against the counter, sighing out a heavy few weeks of stress. He should have planned something to say. How can he even know where to start?

"He--he was working over at Pride. They did that to him. I don't know what it is they did, but... I couldn't just..." He rubs his face, having a lot of trouble looking at Rarity. "I told you I have a family. He's... I know how it sounds, but. He's my kid."

It's a lot - a lot - to process, and Rarity is trying-

Right up until Greg finishes, and then she throws it all to the wind and simply stares. But- the ages made no sense- that doesn't seem physically possible-

"How?"

She asks the question, the same one that's been plaguing him for months, the one he's been blocked by and trying to work around as soon as it came up. The question he finally got an answer for.

Greg's laugh hits a high, uncomfortable pitch, a hand running into his hair. Boy, that one corner of the kitchen is fascinating, he just can't look away. Wow!

"Y...yeah! About that, I, uh, I'm sort of... I'm probably... it turns out I'm in... I dunno... like, my forties? Actually? So that. That's something I found out about myself. Who knew, huh?"

It doesn't make any sense, and so her brain rejects it completely out of hand. "Greg," she tries, gentle - because he is quite obviously distressed - but still very confused, "that doesn't make any sense. You can't be that old." She's seen some very good-looking fortysomethings, and he is not one of them, namely because he's still young.

"I know, right?" He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "I... Rarity, I can't expect you to believe it. I don't want to. I still don't get it. And... and in the end, it doesn't really matter. All that I know for sure is he's my son. And they hurt him." He shakes his head. "That's all I care about right now."

Because that's what's important right now, isn't it? The injured child curled up on their couch. Rarity takes a moment to try to gather herself - try being the operative word. "At some point," she starts, sounding much steadier than she feels, "we are going to sit down, and you are going to explain all of this - or at least what you know." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "But for now, I believe I promised Steven hot cocoa, and you should probably go check on him." It will buy her a bit of time to process, at least.

Even if she makes the effort to sound put together, Greg can tell she isn't. He sure isn't. Given the whole situation, he has a hard time imagining who would be. His hands wring together, shame having sunk back in again. He wishes he didn't have to put her through this. He doesn't regret saving Steven, but this is a lot to ask of everyone.

"Thank you, Rarity. I'm..." He falters. He needs more time to figure out what to say, too. Unfortunately, he's pretty sure he'll never have enough time to get it right. "...I'm really sorry about all this." He turns to head back to Steven."

Rarity offers him the best smile she can. It's not quite all there, but she is trying. "Well, he is your son, is he not?" It will not be easy to get used to that, but she has to try. "It'll be alright." She hopes. Somehow.

He hopes, too. Greg shares a weary, wordless smile with her, and heads into the common room.

Steven is still there, thankfully. Nothing has come to take him away in the meantime, as possible as it might seem. He's still on the couch, with his legs curled beneath him, halfway through taking a bite when Greg appears. He freezes for a moment, his eyes hanging on Greg, the burger still in his mouth.

He sort of balks at him, before chewing and swallowing, looking a little whoozy and uncertain while he does so.

Has the poor kid really gotten so wound up that anyone at all walking in on him gets that kind of look? Greg shares that weary smile with Steven, too, and sits down beside him.

"Rarity'll be out in a minute. How're you feeling?"

Steven seems caught off guard by pretty much everything that happens to him, when it comes down to it. Greg still being here is a surprise. Him not being suddenly in trouble is a surprise. Everything about the world is confusing and full of alarm.

"Was she mad?" he asks, looking downwards again.

"Who, Rarity? Nahh." Greg digs in the bag for some fries. "She was a little confused, but that's not surprising. You remember how confused we were, at the start." Considering how confused they still are, it's not much of a shock. "But she wants you to be safe, too."

His first instinct is always to assume that people are going to be angry with him - of course, thinking that Rarity is probably upset by his presence, not by the fact that he's hurt. It's a relief when Greg tells him otherwise, and he's inclined to believe him...but the thoughts were definitely there.

"Yeah..."

Thinking about the early days is painful in a way he doesn't really know how to describe. It's like everything he was then has died, or was murdered. It all happened so fast, he doesn't know where that person went. He starts feeling dizzy with it, leaning forward in a way that makes it seem like he might drop off.

"Woah there--" Greg reaches over, curling an arm in front to keep Steven in place. "You can lie down if you want. We can move to my bedroom, even."

A cold pit rolls in his gut. He can reassure Steven as many times as he wants, tell him again and again he's safe and welcome, but that won't fix how sick he is. He won't get better until they figure out what to do with that jewel of his.

Edited 2016-02-26 09:20 (UTC)

Steven jolts slightly when Greg reaches to support him, like he's just woken up. He looks up at Greg, looking somehow confused, like he didn't understand what just happened.

"Oh," he says, setting his food on the wrapper beside him. "I just didn't... Sometimes I can't think right, I dunno." He reaches down and lifts his shirt enough to run his fingers over his broken gem. "I feel like my brain was in here..."

When Rarity says hot chocolate, she means the good kind - milk heated in a saucepan and real chocolate - so it's a bit before she makes it back into the lounge, carefully carrying three mugs. Her kitchen time gives her a chance to think, but mulling the answers over in her head hasn't helped her any. She'll need more information from Greg, and that's all there is to it.

For now, she sets the mugs down on the coffee table. "There we are. Do be careful; it's hot."

"You're the best, Rarity." Hamburgers and hot chocolate aren't the most standard combination, but it sure smells tasty. He also means it for everything else; she's been an absolute champ with everything that's happened.

"Hey, you know what, Steven? Rarity's probably the best fashionista we got in all of Virgo. You two should work out some looks together!" She may never win him over on a lasting makeover, but dressing up is always fun.

NO FEAR [OPEN]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)