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xp_logsBackdated to the night of December 13th
Manuel comes to Forge, and surprisingly no punches are thrown or harsh words exchanged.
The briefest knock on the door announced his arrival, waiting for Forge to let him in. He didn't expect a glorious welcome - they had never been on good terms - however, they shared a grief and one opinion that forced Manuel out of his practice. The emotions behind the door demanded he leave, demanded things in each of their own way that he could only speculate the reason behind them. A welcoming was definitely not what he would expect ever, yet he stood there, waiting in humility and leaned on the very symbol Forge mocked him with.
Forge opened the door to the suite, almost doing a double-take at seeing Manuel on his doorstep. "Are you lost?" he said quietly, the expected tone of disdain somehow absent, covered in a thick layer of sadness, evident both in Forge's voice and in the emotions that were bleeding off him.
Manuel met Forge's eyes but dropped them immediately to the floor. Pale anguish washed over him and saying the correct thing in such a position seemed more important now. It was bare to him, exposed in a way he was sure the wearer did not choose, nor want and the flat of his hand slipped over the door, preventing an immediate dismissal. Though they both knew Forge could close the door if he wanted. His lack of control, his own problems were nothing compared to what he felt from the man standing before him.
"No." There was a long moment of silence and he broke their eye contact again, bending submission in respective humility when he offered his hand.
A long pause, then Forge reached out and took Manuel's hand in his own, a quick handshake of shared loss. "Come on in," he said as he opened the door further. "It's Jay's birthday. We're having a celebration."
The common area of the suite that the young inventor shared with the Attilani princess didn't appear to be in any state of celebration, however. A number of unopened bottles of beer sat on an end table, the glass beading with condensation and dripping down onto a stack of photographs.
Forge walked over to an overstuffed chair and flopped exhaustedly into it, picking up the stack of photographs. "He's twenty-one today, and since he's not here right now..." With a one-armed shrug, he picked up two of the bottles in one hand, arcing one over towards the Spanish empath.
Manuel nodded in confirmation, taking the bottle and opening it after he took a careful seat nearby. His cane was set aside and he leaned forward, toying with the bottle while he observed his surroundings. He hadn't touched alcohol since his accident and the occasion called for him to take a long and thirsty drink before he found his voice again. "Twenty one is not very old," he said and pushed a picture aside to look at the one beneath. "He photographs well. When was this taken?"
Peering over, Forge raised his eyebrows in thought. "God, that was right before we graduated. Seems like forever ago. Longer for me, anyway... my mom took that one, I think. She's as bad as Angel when it comes to snapping pictures of everything."
The next picture in the stack was another from the same day, Forge, his father, and Dani all standing shoulder to shoulder, Forge holding his diploma proudly. He ran a metal fingertip over the photo in silence for a moment, outwardly pensive but inwardly radiating with unrestrained grief, anger, and desperation.
Had he a camera, Manuel would have taken a picture, but the moment was burned permanently into his mind. He stared before his eyes climbed down the hand to the metal finger that traced over it's own memory, the anger simmering beneath a boiling grief of misery and it leaked over the edges of his emotional state. He felt he should say something about Dani, but everything that came to mind seemed inapproperiate for the situation. He offered the head of his beer in a brief recognition that they should be celebrating Dani as well. "You were a very good friend to her," he said as an afterthought.
"Not as good as I should be," Forge replied. "I was trying to think of what she would want if... I mean, she was much more in tune with her heritage than I am. It means something to her, we never saw eye to eye on it. I don't know if I'm supposed to burn sage, or beat a drum, or cut my hair - it all seems like so much pointless trivial ritual now, but..."
His hand shifted, fanning out more photographs. Pictures of years gone by, friends together. One that Kyle had taken, Jay laughing while Forge tried to shave awkwardly with one arm in a sling. The three young men in another, standing in tuxedos before Prom. Jay and Kyle leaning against each other, Jay's guitar across his chest.
Forge clenched his eyes shut, trying to will back tears. "Nothing's trivial," he summed up firmly. "They're my friends."
Manuel didn't know much of Dani's heritage, only that it was important to her. Burning something in her honor seemed like a very noble thing to do and yet, he could see that going very badly somehow. Especially in the winter when the wind carried smoke like a beacon.
He leaned over, taking the one with Forge shaving and studied the boy in the picture, comparing him to the man. The contrast between the two was obvious. The one in the picture had less on his shoulders than the one in the picture did or perhaps they shared a similiar weight, but of different experience. It was hard not to take in the casual stances and how easily a smile came to their faces then. Between the three, Kyle's emotions had always been the briefest, Forge's the darkest and Jay's the most sensitive.
He set the bottle down. His throat tightened and his chest felt like a weight was pressing it in. "Forge," Manuel started and a hand lifted to brush away the tears that began their trail down the sides of his cheeks. "You are not drinking your beer,' he observed drily.
"No, I'm not," Forge answered, suddenly leaning back into the chair, one hand over his eyes. It wasn't as if Manuel couldn't tell how much this was affecting him, holding his emotions in around an empath was the epitome of futility - but some habits were still hard to break.
Then again, as Dani would have told him, some bad habits were supposed to be broken.
"She cared about you," Forge said unexpectedly. "You meant a lot to her. She and I... we fought about that. It wasn't my place to disapprove, but I did anyway. Spoiling for a fight, I don't know why." He wiped tears from his eyes and sniffed loudly. "They're saying that... there's not a lot of probability the Brotherhood has them. Alive. I can't even remember the last thing we talked about. Dani, Jay... it's funny, I can remember Garrison tossing me around the gym and I can't remember what I spoke about with two of my best friends the last time I saw them."
The admission wasn't what Manuel expected and caught him off guard, his inward turmoil flowed freely as Forge's own did despite his attempt to rein it in. The news of their friends had set a grave fall in his emotional unload and he closed his eyes, brushing a hand over the side of his face. Again, to brush away more tears. He was a leaky faucet, unable to turn off.
"I was not then what I am today. You had every right to protect her from the monster you deemed me. I was not stable for her then, nor would I be near any stability for her now. You saw that and no one can fault you for protecting her. She is the closest contact that I have for control, for understanding my powers, possibly as much as you and your heritage. And neither of us can remember our last conversations with her." Manuel didn't even see her. For all the time he was here, it was shameful that he didn't address her, nor be there for her when he should have been. He'd been too focus on his powers to see outside of that situation.
"What would she think now, seeing the two of us sitting together, surrounded by unopened beer and badly taken photographs. Women never like themselves in a picture, no matter what angle you take it from, unless theytake the picture themselves."
"She'd either laugh and bring us frybread, or scream and declare that we'd been replaced by alien shapeshifters," Forge answered with a wry chuckle. With a nod, he picked up a bottle of beer and popped the cap off, then held it up in a quiet salute. "Joshua Guthrie. Danielle Moonstar. And hell, Garrison Kane and Pete Wisdom."
"She would not be incorrect either," though he did not expand on it. Manuel nodded to each name, except for the last and raised his bottle in respective salute. "To music, frybread and Air Supply when events appear not to go our way."
"Cheers."
It wasn't the most formal of mournings, but it was a shared one, and for that all the more necessary.
Manuel comes to Forge, and surprisingly no punches are thrown or harsh words exchanged.
The briefest knock on the door announced his arrival, waiting for Forge to let him in. He didn't expect a glorious welcome - they had never been on good terms - however, they shared a grief and one opinion that forced Manuel out of his practice. The emotions behind the door demanded he leave, demanded things in each of their own way that he could only speculate the reason behind them. A welcoming was definitely not what he would expect ever, yet he stood there, waiting in humility and leaned on the very symbol Forge mocked him with.
Forge opened the door to the suite, almost doing a double-take at seeing Manuel on his doorstep. "Are you lost?" he said quietly, the expected tone of disdain somehow absent, covered in a thick layer of sadness, evident both in Forge's voice and in the emotions that were bleeding off him.
Manuel met Forge's eyes but dropped them immediately to the floor. Pale anguish washed over him and saying the correct thing in such a position seemed more important now. It was bare to him, exposed in a way he was sure the wearer did not choose, nor want and the flat of his hand slipped over the door, preventing an immediate dismissal. Though they both knew Forge could close the door if he wanted. His lack of control, his own problems were nothing compared to what he felt from the man standing before him.
"No." There was a long moment of silence and he broke their eye contact again, bending submission in respective humility when he offered his hand.
A long pause, then Forge reached out and took Manuel's hand in his own, a quick handshake of shared loss. "Come on in," he said as he opened the door further. "It's Jay's birthday. We're having a celebration."
The common area of the suite that the young inventor shared with the Attilani princess didn't appear to be in any state of celebration, however. A number of unopened bottles of beer sat on an end table, the glass beading with condensation and dripping down onto a stack of photographs.
Forge walked over to an overstuffed chair and flopped exhaustedly into it, picking up the stack of photographs. "He's twenty-one today, and since he's not here right now..." With a one-armed shrug, he picked up two of the bottles in one hand, arcing one over towards the Spanish empath.
Manuel nodded in confirmation, taking the bottle and opening it after he took a careful seat nearby. His cane was set aside and he leaned forward, toying with the bottle while he observed his surroundings. He hadn't touched alcohol since his accident and the occasion called for him to take a long and thirsty drink before he found his voice again. "Twenty one is not very old," he said and pushed a picture aside to look at the one beneath. "He photographs well. When was this taken?"
Peering over, Forge raised his eyebrows in thought. "God, that was right before we graduated. Seems like forever ago. Longer for me, anyway... my mom took that one, I think. She's as bad as Angel when it comes to snapping pictures of everything."
The next picture in the stack was another from the same day, Forge, his father, and Dani all standing shoulder to shoulder, Forge holding his diploma proudly. He ran a metal fingertip over the photo in silence for a moment, outwardly pensive but inwardly radiating with unrestrained grief, anger, and desperation.
Had he a camera, Manuel would have taken a picture, but the moment was burned permanently into his mind. He stared before his eyes climbed down the hand to the metal finger that traced over it's own memory, the anger simmering beneath a boiling grief of misery and it leaked over the edges of his emotional state. He felt he should say something about Dani, but everything that came to mind seemed inapproperiate for the situation. He offered the head of his beer in a brief recognition that they should be celebrating Dani as well. "You were a very good friend to her," he said as an afterthought.
"Not as good as I should be," Forge replied. "I was trying to think of what she would want if... I mean, she was much more in tune with her heritage than I am. It means something to her, we never saw eye to eye on it. I don't know if I'm supposed to burn sage, or beat a drum, or cut my hair - it all seems like so much pointless trivial ritual now, but..."
His hand shifted, fanning out more photographs. Pictures of years gone by, friends together. One that Kyle had taken, Jay laughing while Forge tried to shave awkwardly with one arm in a sling. The three young men in another, standing in tuxedos before Prom. Jay and Kyle leaning against each other, Jay's guitar across his chest.
Forge clenched his eyes shut, trying to will back tears. "Nothing's trivial," he summed up firmly. "They're my friends."
Manuel didn't know much of Dani's heritage, only that it was important to her. Burning something in her honor seemed like a very noble thing to do and yet, he could see that going very badly somehow. Especially in the winter when the wind carried smoke like a beacon.
He leaned over, taking the one with Forge shaving and studied the boy in the picture, comparing him to the man. The contrast between the two was obvious. The one in the picture had less on his shoulders than the one in the picture did or perhaps they shared a similiar weight, but of different experience. It was hard not to take in the casual stances and how easily a smile came to their faces then. Between the three, Kyle's emotions had always been the briefest, Forge's the darkest and Jay's the most sensitive.
He set the bottle down. His throat tightened and his chest felt like a weight was pressing it in. "Forge," Manuel started and a hand lifted to brush away the tears that began their trail down the sides of his cheeks. "You are not drinking your beer,' he observed drily.
"No, I'm not," Forge answered, suddenly leaning back into the chair, one hand over his eyes. It wasn't as if Manuel couldn't tell how much this was affecting him, holding his emotions in around an empath was the epitome of futility - but some habits were still hard to break.
Then again, as Dani would have told him, some bad habits were supposed to be broken.
"She cared about you," Forge said unexpectedly. "You meant a lot to her. She and I... we fought about that. It wasn't my place to disapprove, but I did anyway. Spoiling for a fight, I don't know why." He wiped tears from his eyes and sniffed loudly. "They're saying that... there's not a lot of probability the Brotherhood has them. Alive. I can't even remember the last thing we talked about. Dani, Jay... it's funny, I can remember Garrison tossing me around the gym and I can't remember what I spoke about with two of my best friends the last time I saw them."
The admission wasn't what Manuel expected and caught him off guard, his inward turmoil flowed freely as Forge's own did despite his attempt to rein it in. The news of their friends had set a grave fall in his emotional unload and he closed his eyes, brushing a hand over the side of his face. Again, to brush away more tears. He was a leaky faucet, unable to turn off.
"I was not then what I am today. You had every right to protect her from the monster you deemed me. I was not stable for her then, nor would I be near any stability for her now. You saw that and no one can fault you for protecting her. She is the closest contact that I have for control, for understanding my powers, possibly as much as you and your heritage. And neither of us can remember our last conversations with her." Manuel didn't even see her. For all the time he was here, it was shameful that he didn't address her, nor be there for her when he should have been. He'd been too focus on his powers to see outside of that situation.
"What would she think now, seeing the two of us sitting together, surrounded by unopened beer and badly taken photographs. Women never like themselves in a picture, no matter what angle you take it from, unless theytake the picture themselves."
"She'd either laugh and bring us frybread, or scream and declare that we'd been replaced by alien shapeshifters," Forge answered with a wry chuckle. With a nod, he picked up a bottle of beer and popped the cap off, then held it up in a quiet salute. "Joshua Guthrie. Danielle Moonstar. And hell, Garrison Kane and Pete Wisdom."
"She would not be incorrect either," though he did not expand on it. Manuel nodded to each name, except for the last and raised his bottle in respective salute. "To music, frybread and Air Supply when events appear not to go our way."
"Cheers."
It wasn't the most formal of mournings, but it was a shared one, and for that all the more necessary.
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