U zloy Natal'i vse lyudi kanal'i.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Amelia comes into the apartment with extremely little fanfare. The front door barely even clicks closed in her wake, but somewhere between the side of the couch and the kitchen there's a giggle.

She can't do the sneaky ninja thing in this state. It's just too funny. The only reason she's here is because working in the lab for twenty-seven hours is... well, like a cheese grater on the soul. Try, try, fail, crap, have a smoke. Sometimes you get really pissed off and beat it against the side of the mother-f@#$ing table and-- she only did that once. That was a bad idea. RIP, Scipio, we loved thee well.

We can rebuild him. We have the technology. That's the exact problem. She keeps giggling.

Being here means probably having to look at his smelly face, but she needed the change of scenery to keep thinking. She's angry at Caleb. His beloved Alice-- the damn car-- might wind up a good target. Potatos are the most awful smelling things once they've gone bad. They're also... runny.

She'd need to send one of her babies to capture the moment. Bet he'd make the Best Face Ever. Then she'd plaster copies of it all over the Cape May house, yeah yeah yeah yeah.

Ah, her sides hurt. Her duffel bag makes a room-resounding clunk as she drops it in the doorway of her room.

Comments

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

She’s making a lot of noise for six o’clock in the morning, and no one likes being woken up like that. Caleb is no exception. He stagger’s forth from his bedroom, blue robe and half-shut eyes.

“Oh, what is it now?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

She ignores him for the time, thumping her way through her dawn-lit room and into the bathroom. There's a sound of cosmetic bottles scattering on tile, and Amelia curses. Through the door, just to fuck with him, "Fire company 35. Do you have books on the premises, sir?"

What does he care anyway? A couple seconds later the door reopens. Her clothes and hair are disheveled, and she leans against the doorway. "Or, 'hi, welcome home'? Maybe? Nyet? Christ, I'd have known."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Something’s wrong.

“Oh, right. How terribly rude of me. I apologize if my sleeping was interfering with your rumbling about.” His fingers rub the sleep from his eyes as his stiff legs carry him towards the bathroom.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"Ah, off with you!" she snaps off after him. Not like she chased him off, but he probably assumes she's been awake a while (which she has), and is grumpy (which she is), and will leave her alone (that's a good idea).

And now that she's here she's not as inspired as she thought she'd be. She still has the urge to beat the parts into little tiny squashed pieces. She gives her bag a dirty look as she flops on the bed and starts digging about her coffee table for a cigarette box that isn't empty. "[Early bird gets the worm, Zukov]," she calls to him, mimicing their father.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He just looks at her for a few seconds as his brain kicks itself into high gear. It’s a bit too early for this, especially as it’s becoming more and more painfully evident that something isn’t right with Amelia.

I don’t smell any alcohol, and she’s too jittery and tense to be on marijuana. There’s also something wrong with her eyes … They aren’t glazed, so whatever she’s on, it’s serious.

He walks over to her, and takes a good look at her face, hoping to catch the scent of peach schnapps. She does so love her peach schnapps, after all. Damn. No such luck.

He decides to give her enough rope to hang herself. “Are you high?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

She tries to dodge him but that's way too much work. Lying to him seems unfair just this moment. Instead she looks him square in the eyes, trying to be serious. What actually happens is her breaking into laughter at how serious he looks right now. "Are you?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

If looks could kill, it would be Caleb-2, Amelia-0. It’s the sort of rage you can only really feel towards family.

“[Oh, yes, that’s it exactly, Bird. You’ve caught me. I’m higher than Willie Nelson on a working holiday,]” he says in Russian.

With a roll of the eyes and an angry sigh he turns away from his sister, picks up her bag, and heads straight for his dining room table.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Bird's gotten fast. She ducks around him, grabs the bag and bounces back a little. "There's no reason to make asses of ourselves," she coos.

"We're down to accusing each other and searching through things? Braat. C'mon. No need to be rude."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“That’s one theory,” he says. A hand reaches out, and suddenly the bag is again in Caleb’s possession. In a heartbeat he’s unzipping it.

“I don’t know what you’re high on, but it’s not pot.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

This ordeal is turning decidedly unpleasant.

Her voice goes up a notch as she snatches for the bag again. "[We're judging each other now?]"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He slaps her hand away, and gives her another cross look. She isn’t really trying to reason with him, and he knows it. She’s trying to stop him from finding out what she’s smoking or snorting or injecting or however the bloody hell it’s introduced to her body. She’s trying to manipulate me.

He can’t stand to look at her just this second, so he teleports over to the table and begins to rummage through the bag. Conveniently enough, the pill bottles aren’t that cleverly concealed.

He sighs, and forces himself to calm down. Don’t be rash. Calm down. Yelling won’t accomplish anything He runs a hand through his hair before forcing his head up, and staring at his kid sister.

He holds up the bottles. “So … Amphetamines to stay awake, and ...” He squints as he reads the label. “ … Nalbuphine to sleep?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"If this is the part where you give me your older, wiser perspective on things, we can skip that. It's not funny anymore."

So whatever, he got the bag. Fine. "Are my cigarettes in there, or did you and your commie friends outlaw that, too?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He wants to overturn the table just to get the frustration out, and then run over to her and just shake some sense into her.

“You-You want your cigarettes, is it?” he asks through … is that laughter? He reaches inside, and pulls out her pack.

Then he tosses them out the open window.

“That’s what I think of that. Now why the BLOODY HELL are you doing AMPHETAMINES!? Do you want to wind up a sick, depressed, PARANOID INSOMNIAC!?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Oh, it's funny now? She can laugh back, too!

"That accomplished a whole lot! Clue! I already was a sick, depressed, paranoid insomniac! And you're untarnished, I suppose, to be all high and mighty? Gimme a break, I remember the week you left for college, even if you don't."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He sets the pills down on the table so he doesn’t bounce them off of her. “We’re not eighteen, and these aren’t yellow jackets.”

Take a breath. Calm down. Calm down…

“I have access to the best doctors and mystics on this Earth. If you couldn’t sleep, you could have come to me. I would have helped you. However obstinate you’ve been acting, I still love you.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"Shyeah, the better to relieve your guilt. Might as well put a ribbon on it."

She waves him off and heads for her room. "I'm gonna need the rest of the stuff in the bag. Got work to do."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Before he even knows what’s happened, the table is on it’s side. That doesn’t settle nearly enough of the rage, though he does instantly calm down when he hears the shattering of the glass centerpiece.

Corrine had given him that centerpiece as a birthday gift. It was a stained black replica of the Trojan Hoarse designed to hold a flask in a velvet compartment inside its back, but now it’s a shattered wreck on his floor. He crouches down, and picks up the chipped but otherwise intact head, and just looks at it for a time. He can feel the jagged edges of the neck rubbing against his hand.

The world seems still as he stands, and calmly walks over to his kitchen sink, and runs first the head and then his hand under a cold tap. There is no particular reason to – he isn’t cut – but he does feel the compulsion.

She’s your sister. You love her. You’re not going to thrash her. You’re going to help her. Then, under his breath. “Whether she likes it or not.”

And he’s back into the fray, the whole time bearing their fathers angry demeanor.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

That makes her jump, even a room away. He's not prone to that much. There's no noise after that and she comes back out.

She'll only come as close as the doorway of the kitchen. Even though she doesn't mean it, she can't help it and laughs again. Everything's just... funny. It's all funny when you don't care. That prat Constantine. That nasty little albino-haired planty thing looking at her, and the witch's smarmy little Golden Boy rat dog. All funny. She glances back at the mess. "And I'm the one with a problem?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“I’ve got my shortcomings,” he replies, though he doesn’t look at her. It’s not shame so much as anger.

“I help you because I love you and I care what happens to you, not to alleviate guilt.” He scoops up the hoarse’s head, and walks right past her, still purposefully not looking at her face. “You might have noticed that if you weren’t such a self-absorbed, pompous ass all the time.”

He crouches back down over the pieces of the hoarse, and begins to collect the large pieces. Any mystic that close could feel him drawing in magic, and preparing it for something.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

There's a slight wave of dizzy, but it's enough to panic Amelia. As much as she wants to take off to the safety of her room, she goes for the bag. All the sudden now the high is not so fun when the room tilts. The only thing on her mind is the thought of all the valuable hours of work she'd lose if something happens and she taps out now.

"Not near the goods!" she shrieks, cradling the bag. "I don't have any shielding, you'll zap 'em all out of power!"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“There are millions of souls in the city. Their numbers create a sort of aura, and it is that aura I’ve been draining, not anything in that bag.”

He remembers what Dr. Fate did at Shadowcrest. He remembers how the magic restored that place, and tasks it to do the same here. Pieces of the shattered horse begin to pick themselves up off of the floor, and arrange themselves. The cracks begin to recede, and the blemishes soon disappear. Within seconds, there is no evidence that it was ever shattered in the first place.

Caleb stands, and looks back at his sister, that disappointment still written all over his face. “What on Earth are you thinking?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

His mistake putting them down again. The meds go back into her bag and she's on her way back to her room.

"I think the power supply on four is bad. It's the only thing I haven't tried yet, it should've been evident to me earlier. I think I left my star wrench on the kitchen counter at home. I think I really want a cigarette."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

"I think you're trying to squirm your way out of answering my question." He notices her taking the pills, but decides to let it go. She'll just get more anyway.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Amelia drops the bag onto the bed and starts digging through. The bottles go into the bedside table drawer. The clothes go into a pile, and then she starts taking out parts. Some of them are her obviously damaged machines, the rest is just random pieces. "You asked me what I was thinking. I told you. You want something more specific than that you can bloody well ask it."

She goes to the desktop in the corner of the room and flicks it on. There's another giggle. "In any event, after the warm welcome of your comrades, I'm even less inclined for... 'help'."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“So, because they didn’t take kindly to you treating them like the dirt on the bottom of your shoes, you’re employing amphetamines as an alternative?” A scoff. “Oh, come on. You’re not nearly that stupid, Bird.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

She starts digging through stacks of jewel cases, examining the writing on each CD. It either goes into a pile on the bed or gets set in another stack. "They aren't my friends. I don't owe them anything, least of all the dishonesty of pretending to like any of them. That'd be getting off to a wrong start, people thinking you give two craps and then suddenly they're all over you with their opinion."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Yes, they are opinionated. So are you. And in that instance, they fought an army of hell to a standstill to save my life, so it wouldn’t hurt you to be a touch more respectful, then, now would it? They’ve never wronged you, and you’ve got no reason to hate them all on my behalf.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

The two pieces in her hands meet in frustration, and Amelia sighs, tossing them on the bed.

The box on the shelf over her desk has what looks like a working power supply. It should be the same size as the dead piece, and she starts searching around her workdesk for that size screwdriver. Where the hell's her universal?

Coming back to it, he's still standing there. "What're we arguing again?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He throws his hand against his forehead in frustration. She won't stay on topic, now will she?

“[Your new habit, I believe, but we needn't discuss that right now. You've been something of a general purpose moron as late, so we can start someplace different if you like.]” A knowing smile. "[We'll get back to it.]"

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

The universal is next to the back desk leg, but the lid on the top compartment is missing, and so are all the pieces for the screwdriver. She gives up the search.

"[Who says it's a 'habit'? That would assume something is done habitually.]"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Do you do this habitually?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

She licks her lips. Her eyes go to the right and then back to him. "I do what I have to do to keep working."

She flops into her computer chair and starts getting down to it. "Getting bored with this yet?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Quite,” he answers before motioning to her bag.

“If you don’t start talking, I’ll siphon off every last bit of magic in this room."

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Her eyes go to all her stuff, most of all the quarter of the Cthulu project behind her closed closet door. Caleb probably knows it's there, the thing's a little hard to miss but zipping all the magic would fry the boards she rigged and it'd mean all new work.

Her eyes narrow at him. "We're not going to start being stupid."

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“I don’t want to any more than you want me to, Bird. The question, really,” he says with a smile as he strides into her room, sits on her bed, and lets her see just how much he isn’t bluffing.

“… is if you’re going to make me. So it’s your call, then.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Amelia doesn't say anything, she just stares at him. If ever a time she wanted to give him a good slap, it'd be now. She couldn't keep him from doing this no matter how much she wants to.

Damn him! Damn him! She sits back in her chair. "I can't believe you're doing this to me. Me. Fine. Have it your way. WHat do you want?"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

As far as he’s concerned, she can be as angry as she’d like to be – it’s not like that would be a change of pace or anything. This is already going to be a gut wrenching experience, so a few more notches in the ‘mutually uncomfortable’ column really doesn’t alter the equation much.

“You know what I want to know. I’d also like to take the opportunity to caution you against lying to me.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

She throws her hands up. He's not going to get away with this. None of them are. Treating her like a second-rate citizen, like some Paris Hilton ripoff who can't even put her panties on right. The witch's influence must be bad if they're all this embarassingly stupid and blatently ignorant.

The look she gives him now gets her score up at least 5. "[Six weeks. When I need to.]"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

He’s interrogating his sister. They used to be best friends. Inseparable. Attached at the hip. Even now, she means the world to him. Everything about the situation feels contrary to the natural design.

She may not recognize it, but this is tearing his heart out.

"6 weeks for both?" Leave nothing implied. Ask directly, or she'll snake her way out of answering.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

"Why do you care?!"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

His reply is immediate and firm, yet soft spoken. “Because you may resent me now, but you’re still my sister and I would go just as far to protect you now as I would have then. Remember what I did when I caught you with that syringe?”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

The nearest thing to kick is her left lime-green Sketcher, but it'll do. It makes a pretty violent thunk against the other wall and DVDs go tumbling off the shelf. "For the last time, I don't need your protection! I was fourteen then, I was a stupid kid, and I was bored! I'm not bored!

"What I am is sick to death of interruptions, like puking and nosebleeds and nosey brothers and all other manner of gross function!"

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

“Spare me, Bird,” he growls as he stands, and goes to leave. “Save it for someone who hasn’t known you your whole life.”

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

Amelia's also sick to death of people walking away from her. Of all the people, that he would judge her, turn his back to her.. the rage for a moment is a calmness. She doesn't need time to think about this.

Her hand closes over a piece on the bed, it's intended trajectory to catch him in the back of the skull on the way out the door. She's off, though, and it whizzes in front of him, missing his face by barely an inch. And just before it hits the door she realizes what it is she threw. Crawler power supply.

Aural colors dance around the room as the casing cracks into fragments. It's the last thing she sees before her eyes roll into the back of her head and she convulses to the floor.

U zloy Natal'i vse lyudi kanal'i.
For angry Nataly all the people are rascals.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Instantly he’s dizzy, and in moments the room begins to spin. He’s barely begun to fall before the feeling of steel wool grating his skin sets in.

By the time he does finally hit the floor, it’s already over.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

It's like the world bursts awake. There's fire burning in her brain, down through her sinuses and even further, down her throat and into her belly. When it reaches there, pyrotechnics explode before her eyes and in her spine. For only a second she can feel the floor under her and blood on her face.

She rolls to her side, wretching into the carpet. Amelia can taste blood in her mouth, and there's blood from her nose as well. Her blue wall and all the fuzzy outlines against it make her feel like she's falling, and her right shoulder thuds back down to the floor.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

For a minute it’s as though he’s in bed, sprawled out on his stomach and just lazing. It’s war and pleasant for a few seconds, right until he realizes that what he’s laying on is too hard to be a bed.

Then it all comes rushing back to him.

“B-b-bird?” he calls as he manages to get back to his knees. The sight of her passed out like that takes him by surprise. It’s just a little too reminiscent of him stumbling onto her after the accident, and for a few seconds he's frozen.

[amelia-z.livejournal.com]

She'd speak to him but nothing's listening to her. Her eyes roll around in the socket for a long time just to find him and trying to focus makes the world go end up again.

Her foot does what looks like a best attempt at waving.

[caleb-z.livejournal.com]

Caleb forces himself to his feet, and hurries over to the table. He flicks the communicator on as he grabs it.

“This is Caleb Zukov. I’ve got a medical emergency on my hands over here. I need help!”