Connections

[Oriena]

He was tiptoeing around her, and she hated that, knowing that he was spending the silence berating himself, and worse, trying to fathom how best to placate her. Nox was always malleable. He’d be whatever he thought others most wanted him to be, and probably feel sorry for himself while he was doing it. That made a different sort of anger swell in her chest; she had very little patience for that kind of pandering. But she kept herself turned away, busy watching the kettle boil, or the snow falling beyond the window above the sink. She’d let him in, which was more than anyone else could have expected, but it didn’t mean she had to make nice just so that his feelings didn’t get hurt in the process. If the silence bothered him and he ran away with his tail between his legs… well, he’d hardly be the first.

“What happened to the nice Russian boy?” Dezhda said instead of acknowledging the apology. Ori had no idea whether she even considered it an intrusion or not; she rarely knew exactly what was going on inside her mother’s head. Which was probably for the best. The woman didn’t wait for an answer, just grunted and shrugged away her own question, and Ori didn’t give one anyway. Presumably she had meant Mik. That had been a bad day for delusions; she was surprised her mother remembered him at all.

The first cup of tea Oriena left on the counter, tucked beside the oven, with a few murmured words in Russian. Apology to the domovoi and placation for her mother, who eased a fraction in her chair when she heard, and continued to eyeball Nox with interest. Or maybe it was suspicion – hard to say, depending on who she actually thought Nox was given his unusual entrance. Ori didn’t bring people home, never had. “This storm is going to be bad,” she told him matter-of-factly. Despite all the forecasts to the contrary, Dezhda was adamant of that.

[Nox]

There was maybe a real smile that crossed his face when Oriena's mother asked about the nice Russian boy. There was a slight minor and most annoying tinge of jealousy but it was mostly amusement that passed his face. Oriena had brought home a boy.

He doubted it was anything of the sort, but Nox sat forward and smiled very interested in the answer that never came. But he didn't pry -- he could needle Ori later. And probably get a beat down for it -- but it might be worth it. He'd come with the expectation of violence. He hadn't expected to be invited inside her mother's house.

Nox glanced at the door another time and at the cup sitting by the stove. He wondered if he watched it long enough if whatever she thought was here would show up? It wouldn't be the first time he'd hunted strange little gremlins. It intrigued him.

"This storm is going to be bad," she said in English. That was good a one sided conversation is never fun. Specially when you might be the butt of the joke. And with Oriena he likely would be more than the butt.

"I feel it already," he replied. Rubbing a new scar on his left shoulder. His whole body ached -- every new scar that hadn't quite healed properly was twinging in this weather. He looked out the window, the smile dropped as a memory crept in. "I remember one winter in the mountains, we were hunting a Harpy, my dad underestimated the snow fall and the time it would take to drive up to the village where the Harpy was hunting -- middle of the night and a blizzard hit. Buried the car in snow. Nothing like freezing to death." Nothing like being eaten alive -- or burning to death either. Though he can't say he felt the burning part though the screams kept him awake at night. As did everything else.

Nox placed his hands on the wall and pulled the power through his body. Through the slime that still coated the power and pushed into into the walls. The building was shit. It could use some repairs. Ezekiel hadn't particularly liked his meddling with the church infrastructure, but he doubted anyone here would care -- much less know what he was doing. "Your friend." Nox nodded to the cup. "Only comes out at night? Or only when we aren't looking? I could keep the cup warm for it if you wanted." The words came out normal but Ori knew him well enough to know what he was doing, but he wanted to keep her mother entertained while he delved into the bowels and bones of the building. Last thing Nox wanted was to be buried alive under rubble in the freezing cold.

[Oriena]

Oriena was perfectly capable of playing a good hostess, but as the awkward moment trickled on, belligerence reared itself instead. She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. Trapped inside with her mother sounded like hell, but the weird weather was exactly why she was here. Nothing unusual was forecast, and mostly Dezhda was delusional with her fears, but until it passed by Ori would stay. Alone would have been preferable, but Nox’s company wasn’t the worst thing if it took Dezhda’s attention off her fears. But then he opened his fucking mouth.

Dezhda wound the rosary beads around her fingers as she listened. Ori sensed the tension of her mood shift, and she glared over her head at its cause, knowing Nox had no reason to know how fragile a woman he was dealing with. Still, she’d imagined Nox might just play the part, placate in the way he was always placating her, but apparently his life was so far removed from ordinary he didn’t know the difference. Harpies? Fucking really? That was the opening gambit of his conversation?

Ori’s hand slammed the knife drawer shut just as Dezhda reached over and snatched desperately to yank it open. Talk of monsters had stiffened her into an alert fear, but it was the revelation of Nox’s own powers by his offer to warm the fucking tea that opened the floodgates. Dezhda launched herself, the rosary flying with her pummelling fists. “Demon!”

[Nox]

The glare coming from Oriena made him sigh inwardly, not alot he could do. And there wasn't a lot to talk about with a woman he hardly knew so when she lauched herself at the drawer and then at him with her rosary in his hands he was not only caught off guard by the wailing woman but he moved to get out of her patch and the chair screeched across the floor only to get caught in his movements and he tumbled backwards. A snap of wood sounding beneath him but he didn't have more time to reach before fits found his chest and one clocked him in the face before he could grapple her arms at the wrist and keep her from hurting herself more than him. He probably deserved the pummeling ten times over, but this was Oriena's mother and he didn't want her to hurt herself.

He took the hand with the rosary and the cross dangling from it and pressed it to his face. "I'm not a demon. No burning, no smell, no fire." He said calmly though his heart was pounding in his chest and the power was only a thought away, he hadn't lost his grip and it was suffused in the walls mending the weak points. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought with the woman and held the power. It wouldn't take much to let that control drift and let it carry him away into the afterlife. He'd thought about how easy it would be to draw upon the light and burn from the inside out. He let the power go -- and with it the temptation and the glorious power and sight with it. The world was dull and bland again, and the pain of the world settled in around where the euphoria had been. He longed for the numbing of the prior weeks, but he craved the power even more now than he had before. It was a dangerous slope.

He repeated himself again "Not a demon." He didn't say he wasn't possessed by one -- that would be a lie. The horde wasn't a demon, and it couldn't currently possess him -- at least it hadn't since he'd been healed, but that wasn't all that long ago. He didn't move but he held her wrists from him and herself. Waiting for her reaction, or Ori's or something. It was a very long few seconds of his life.