Arthur & Beatrice | Enter a Bird
Nov. 8th, 2023 01:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_birdy posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsFollowing the riot, Arthur finds a young woman outside X-Factor Investigations.
The hallway light flickered as the woman huddled up on the floor beside the, locked, office door of X-Factor Investigations, hugged her arms tighter around herself to keep some warmth in her body. The riot in District X hadn't bothered to go up the elevator or stairs, but the journey had made it terribly clear that she wasn't dressed for a chilly day in America. When the elevator dinged open, she cringed against the wall, trying to make herself even smaller. Tangled blonde hair fell in front of her face as she gazed up at the man. "I- I don't have any money, please, I'm just- just waiting for someone from the office to appear. I won't bother you, I promise."
The man stood middling to tall, athletically gangly, and visibly confused at the appearance of a very beleaguered looking woman. He was, however, on the phone, and his momentary lapse in conversation made the device chatter in robotic concern. "No, no, Alex was here but... Listen, I have to go..."
Arthur paused here, moving to where he could see if there was any threat following this woman. Was that blood? No pursuers.
"Alex left with Scott to get a look from the ground. I haven't heard from him either. I'll text you if I hear anything." His tone was extremely genuine, but any concern didn't stop him from hanging up as soon as possible.
"There's nothing to fear," and this line was delivered with such charitable intent that it seemed like this man's eyes were sparkling with the promise, "Tell me how I can help. My name is Arthur."
There was a flash of hope, a hesitant smile forming, as the words seemed to finally be directed to her. And better yet, seemingly able to offer her some assistance. "I-“ The attempt to speak was immediately halted as she’d begun to stand and flinched in unmasked pain as her leg refused to be used again. She curled back up on the floor, but tried to push forward with her words. "I need X-Factor, I- I was with a man, I didn't know what he was, and he hurt me. I tried to leave so often. He finally got in too deep, something with the Brother-"
And here she stopped, suddenly afraid that she had said too much. Her eyes darted to his, trying to read him. "I got away, I wanted to help, to stop them. But-" Finally she uncrossed her arms, shaking but careful in motioning to her right leg, gritting her teeth but ignoring the wound on her arm. “It hurts, and everything was so loud outside, I don’t know what to do now. I know, I know I can help but I don’t know what to do. This was as far as I ever planned, and I didn’t think-“
She stopped herself from going there, shuddering before shaking her head. “Please, can you help me?”
"Of course," came automatically from Arthur's mouth, because of course he would. Almost as if something or someone was listening, the roar of the riot outside seemed to dim in response to this proclamation. It could have been the woman’s shock or loss of blood, but it was more likely the small string of consequences that had just aligned to divert the battle outside away from this moment. A car conveniently stalled. A fallen fire escape from powers discharge. A group of men deciding that maybe this wasn't worth it.
Background noise.
Arthur smiled as best as he could, leaning down to add some support for the woman as he continued to survey her wounds. Yet not all wounds could be seen. "What's your name? Can you tell me what day is it?"
"I- Beatrice," and despite everything her face flushed in embarrassment at her given name. She frowned, something seeming off but unable to put her finger on it. Steadying her breathing as much as she could, she didn't flinch away from him. She forced herself not to, blue-green eyes dropping from his own again as it felt like too much of a demand for his attention, and she warily held her right hand to him. "It's November- Uh, I'm sorry, it's November...seventh."
"No, eight, sorry, eighth. It's November eighth, and this is New York." Chewing her lip, she finally asked. "You promise you work with X-Factor?"
"Beatrice! That's great! Stay with me. I'm sorry, though, I work with the X-terminators."
If there was a song of the universe, as some philosopher had first proposed in the 16th century, the record would have scratched at the man's -- Arthur's -- words. Not that Bea would have heard it. Instead, she stared at him in wide-eyed confusion. "Oh," came the small response, the urge to recoil strong.
He had the audacity to chuckle at this. Short, jovial, clear. Kind.
"Oh no," and Arthur's trademark smile bloomed like a flower, "You've lost your sense of humor. Don't worry, though, because now we have an in-joke just between the two of us. I do work with X-Factor Investigations. We help people. We also have chairs and a med kit, both of which might really help you right now." A nod indicated a door down the hallway, and his hands were gentle as they tensed for action. "Do I have your permission to help you inside?"
Beatrice blinked at him before a laugh slipped out, edged in nerves, though she did relax some. "You're a weird man, Arthur. I'd appreciate the help." To show that she meant it, she took his hand, and while her grip was weakened by blood loss, she held onto his gloved hand tightly, like she was afraid any moment the ground would open up beneath her.
This time she braced herself to rise to her feet, there was still a hiss as she pushed through pain.
"Excellent. Someone has to be weird, and I'm happy to be that guy."
He began to assist her down the hallway, ensuring his own pace did not overtake what she could handle at this moment. Arthur didn't need to look to find his way on such a short path, and soon they were situated more safely inside the office lobby.
"So, what's this about Brothers and men doing bad things?" A hell of an opening gambit for small talk, but he figured it was something to help gauge this woman's exact situation as he broke out the medical supplies. Stanch both the bleeding and the awkward silence, afterall.
Bea's eyes flickered to his hands, teeth worrying her bottom lip before she promptly released it upon realizing what she was doing, and her eyes dropped again. "The Brotherhood, I don't know what their little experiment accomplished, I don't know why they crossed Mr. Creed, I don't-" She closed her eyes tightly, as if to push back her thoughts again. Instinctively, her right hand raised to scrub at the dead skin on her lips, nails catching to peel it back, off, give her something else to focus on.
"He worked with them before, to do whatever it was they wanted, and I just... I just went along with it all. I couldn't stand up to him." A wet laugh in self-deprecation. "I didn't even try before. Then he tried to kill me."
Arthur paused, and the sudden cold that swept over his eyes was like a cloud crossing the sun. "Creed and the Brotherhood. Are they the cause of this riot?"
There was a moment of silence as she gazed up at him, something chilling her as she tried to understand him. "No." She finally forced out, shaking her head. "No, they're not here. I ran."
"Bea, may I call you Bea? There's a lot going on right now and I not only want to make sure you're safe, but the entire community. Everyone. I need to let others know if the Brotherhood or this Creed are nearby."
"They're not anywhere nearby." She found herself reassuring, feeling a tingle in the back of her neck at the severity of what this man was asking. "If the- if they were I wouldn't have come here, put anyone in danger, nothing like that if I could help it."
"You can call me Bea." She finally offered as an afterthought, refusing to break eye contact.
The tension built as Arthur stared back, turned his eyes toward her wound, then returned his gaze all as he continued to efficiently dress her injuries. Some might have wondered why she had wandered so far, if she was lying about something with such a fresh injury, or why X-Factor Investigations might be Bea's first stop given the compromised Underground. None of those people were Arthur.
"It is a good thing you found us, Bea! That's a lot that happened to you, and I'm very sorry it happened. Now you're safe."
A slurry of thoughts, half-formed rushed past, but at the forefront was a cautious hope. Finally, Beatrice's calm expression cracked, relief flooding as she couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping free. Immediately her freehand shot up to scrub them away. “I’m sorry, I told myself I wouldn’t cry, I’m sorry, thank you. So much and just- Thank you.”
"Crying is completely normal," Arthur offered casually as he worked, "Sometimes I cry once or twice a week as a cleanse." His flat delivery and focus made it extremely hard to tell if this was another attempt at humor. Thank goodness for changes in subject. "Where are you staying, Bea?"
“I thought, I could find someone to stay with, but everyone I've tried to reach isn't responding. I was going to- I thought there was a shelter somewhere around here, but with the riot, I- I don't know." Shaking her head, she continued to wipe away tears. "I haven't been in New York in a long time, I don't know where I'm going to stay. I don't know where is safe anymore."
"Well," the other man paused. "Usually I'd say that District X is a safe and wonderful place, explore the local cuisine, take in the best of mutant culture, but..."
The sound of a loud explosion from outside underscored the point.
Arthur visibly grimaced. "All of our usual spots are overrun right now, and you need more medical attention than some bandages and bad jokes can solve."
He bit his lip. There was really only one option right now, and the X-Men would want to talk to her.
"What's your opinion on upstate New York?"
"Like Albany?" Bea asked in bewilderment. "I've never been."
"Maybe?" It was a toss up. Arthur had never been to Albany. "Rural, but rich-people rural. When they heavily manicure everything, pass it down generationally, and pretend that's as nature intended. There's a safehouse there, and that's about as safe as we can get right now."
As the man mused, he had retrieved his phone out and was already tip tapping away. There was a pause, and he stopped suddenly in consideration.
"Bea, this is going to be a lot and there's going to be a lot of questions, but can you trust me? I will keep you safe."
Maybe it was the fact that when he spoke to her, the light behind him cast a silhouette that seemed, well, perfect. Maybe too perfect, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
Swallowing thickly, Beatrice nodded slowly. "I trust you."
The hallway light flickered as the woman huddled up on the floor beside the, locked, office door of X-Factor Investigations, hugged her arms tighter around herself to keep some warmth in her body. The riot in District X hadn't bothered to go up the elevator or stairs, but the journey had made it terribly clear that she wasn't dressed for a chilly day in America. When the elevator dinged open, she cringed against the wall, trying to make herself even smaller. Tangled blonde hair fell in front of her face as she gazed up at the man. "I- I don't have any money, please, I'm just- just waiting for someone from the office to appear. I won't bother you, I promise."
The man stood middling to tall, athletically gangly, and visibly confused at the appearance of a very beleaguered looking woman. He was, however, on the phone, and his momentary lapse in conversation made the device chatter in robotic concern. "No, no, Alex was here but... Listen, I have to go..."
Arthur paused here, moving to where he could see if there was any threat following this woman. Was that blood? No pursuers.
"Alex left with Scott to get a look from the ground. I haven't heard from him either. I'll text you if I hear anything." His tone was extremely genuine, but any concern didn't stop him from hanging up as soon as possible.
"There's nothing to fear," and this line was delivered with such charitable intent that it seemed like this man's eyes were sparkling with the promise, "Tell me how I can help. My name is Arthur."
There was a flash of hope, a hesitant smile forming, as the words seemed to finally be directed to her. And better yet, seemingly able to offer her some assistance. "I-“ The attempt to speak was immediately halted as she’d begun to stand and flinched in unmasked pain as her leg refused to be used again. She curled back up on the floor, but tried to push forward with her words. "I need X-Factor, I- I was with a man, I didn't know what he was, and he hurt me. I tried to leave so often. He finally got in too deep, something with the Brother-"
And here she stopped, suddenly afraid that she had said too much. Her eyes darted to his, trying to read him. "I got away, I wanted to help, to stop them. But-" Finally she uncrossed her arms, shaking but careful in motioning to her right leg, gritting her teeth but ignoring the wound on her arm. “It hurts, and everything was so loud outside, I don’t know what to do now. I know, I know I can help but I don’t know what to do. This was as far as I ever planned, and I didn’t think-“
She stopped herself from going there, shuddering before shaking her head. “Please, can you help me?”
"Of course," came automatically from Arthur's mouth, because of course he would. Almost as if something or someone was listening, the roar of the riot outside seemed to dim in response to this proclamation. It could have been the woman’s shock or loss of blood, but it was more likely the small string of consequences that had just aligned to divert the battle outside away from this moment. A car conveniently stalled. A fallen fire escape from powers discharge. A group of men deciding that maybe this wasn't worth it.
Background noise.
Arthur smiled as best as he could, leaning down to add some support for the woman as he continued to survey her wounds. Yet not all wounds could be seen. "What's your name? Can you tell me what day is it?"
"I- Beatrice," and despite everything her face flushed in embarrassment at her given name. She frowned, something seeming off but unable to put her finger on it. Steadying her breathing as much as she could, she didn't flinch away from him. She forced herself not to, blue-green eyes dropping from his own again as it felt like too much of a demand for his attention, and she warily held her right hand to him. "It's November- Uh, I'm sorry, it's November...seventh."
"No, eight, sorry, eighth. It's November eighth, and this is New York." Chewing her lip, she finally asked. "You promise you work with X-Factor?"
"Beatrice! That's great! Stay with me. I'm sorry, though, I work with the X-terminators."
If there was a song of the universe, as some philosopher had first proposed in the 16th century, the record would have scratched at the man's -- Arthur's -- words. Not that Bea would have heard it. Instead, she stared at him in wide-eyed confusion. "Oh," came the small response, the urge to recoil strong.
He had the audacity to chuckle at this. Short, jovial, clear. Kind.
"Oh no," and Arthur's trademark smile bloomed like a flower, "You've lost your sense of humor. Don't worry, though, because now we have an in-joke just between the two of us. I do work with X-Factor Investigations. We help people. We also have chairs and a med kit, both of which might really help you right now." A nod indicated a door down the hallway, and his hands were gentle as they tensed for action. "Do I have your permission to help you inside?"
Beatrice blinked at him before a laugh slipped out, edged in nerves, though she did relax some. "You're a weird man, Arthur. I'd appreciate the help." To show that she meant it, she took his hand, and while her grip was weakened by blood loss, she held onto his gloved hand tightly, like she was afraid any moment the ground would open up beneath her.
This time she braced herself to rise to her feet, there was still a hiss as she pushed through pain.
"Excellent. Someone has to be weird, and I'm happy to be that guy."
He began to assist her down the hallway, ensuring his own pace did not overtake what she could handle at this moment. Arthur didn't need to look to find his way on such a short path, and soon they were situated more safely inside the office lobby.
"So, what's this about Brothers and men doing bad things?" A hell of an opening gambit for small talk, but he figured it was something to help gauge this woman's exact situation as he broke out the medical supplies. Stanch both the bleeding and the awkward silence, afterall.
Bea's eyes flickered to his hands, teeth worrying her bottom lip before she promptly released it upon realizing what she was doing, and her eyes dropped again. "The Brotherhood, I don't know what their little experiment accomplished, I don't know why they crossed Mr. Creed, I don't-" She closed her eyes tightly, as if to push back her thoughts again. Instinctively, her right hand raised to scrub at the dead skin on her lips, nails catching to peel it back, off, give her something else to focus on.
"He worked with them before, to do whatever it was they wanted, and I just... I just went along with it all. I couldn't stand up to him." A wet laugh in self-deprecation. "I didn't even try before. Then he tried to kill me."
Arthur paused, and the sudden cold that swept over his eyes was like a cloud crossing the sun. "Creed and the Brotherhood. Are they the cause of this riot?"
There was a moment of silence as she gazed up at him, something chilling her as she tried to understand him. "No." She finally forced out, shaking her head. "No, they're not here. I ran."
"Bea, may I call you Bea? There's a lot going on right now and I not only want to make sure you're safe, but the entire community. Everyone. I need to let others know if the Brotherhood or this Creed are nearby."
"They're not anywhere nearby." She found herself reassuring, feeling a tingle in the back of her neck at the severity of what this man was asking. "If the- if they were I wouldn't have come here, put anyone in danger, nothing like that if I could help it."
"You can call me Bea." She finally offered as an afterthought, refusing to break eye contact.
The tension built as Arthur stared back, turned his eyes toward her wound, then returned his gaze all as he continued to efficiently dress her injuries. Some might have wondered why she had wandered so far, if she was lying about something with such a fresh injury, or why X-Factor Investigations might be Bea's first stop given the compromised Underground. None of those people were Arthur.
"It is a good thing you found us, Bea! That's a lot that happened to you, and I'm very sorry it happened. Now you're safe."
A slurry of thoughts, half-formed rushed past, but at the forefront was a cautious hope. Finally, Beatrice's calm expression cracked, relief flooding as she couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping free. Immediately her freehand shot up to scrub them away. “I’m sorry, I told myself I wouldn’t cry, I’m sorry, thank you. So much and just- Thank you.”
"Crying is completely normal," Arthur offered casually as he worked, "Sometimes I cry once or twice a week as a cleanse." His flat delivery and focus made it extremely hard to tell if this was another attempt at humor. Thank goodness for changes in subject. "Where are you staying, Bea?"
“I thought, I could find someone to stay with, but everyone I've tried to reach isn't responding. I was going to- I thought there was a shelter somewhere around here, but with the riot, I- I don't know." Shaking her head, she continued to wipe away tears. "I haven't been in New York in a long time, I don't know where I'm going to stay. I don't know where is safe anymore."
"Well," the other man paused. "Usually I'd say that District X is a safe and wonderful place, explore the local cuisine, take in the best of mutant culture, but..."
The sound of a loud explosion from outside underscored the point.
Arthur visibly grimaced. "All of our usual spots are overrun right now, and you need more medical attention than some bandages and bad jokes can solve."
He bit his lip. There was really only one option right now, and the X-Men would want to talk to her.
"What's your opinion on upstate New York?"
"Like Albany?" Bea asked in bewilderment. "I've never been."
"Maybe?" It was a toss up. Arthur had never been to Albany. "Rural, but rich-people rural. When they heavily manicure everything, pass it down generationally, and pretend that's as nature intended. There's a safehouse there, and that's about as safe as we can get right now."
As the man mused, he had retrieved his phone out and was already tip tapping away. There was a pause, and he stopped suddenly in consideration.
"Bea, this is going to be a lot and there's going to be a lot of questions, but can you trust me? I will keep you safe."
Maybe it was the fact that when he spoke to her, the light behind him cast a silhouette that seemed, well, perfect. Maybe too perfect, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
Swallowing thickly, Beatrice nodded slowly. "I trust you."
