16630/INTERLUDE: We are made of Stars

INTERLUDE: We are made of Stars
Date of Scene:	29 November 2024
Location:	Seabreeze Cottage -- Conneticut
Synopsis:	Post-thanksgiving chill and pie, involved discussion of power abnormalities. Lets just say it didn't end very well at all.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lucifer, Phantasm (Drago)

---

Sinister has posed:
Thanksgiving is a thing reserved for some.

There are obligations and connections and an established sense of purpose in what is done on that day, which must not be interferred with.

But the day after, is just another Friday is it not? But an early long weekend was taken and an invite put out to come enjoy the peace and quiet and the sea air and maybe help clean up the docks, if any of us are feeling remotely inclined.

Sinister did not attempt to cook, but he did order something from the local mom and pop diner in the main township nearby.

There's a lot of dust, nobody's been by except to check on the water and general repair for a while and that's done by a lady in the town.

But the little two bedroom + den by the sea is nice. Quiet. Out of the way. Private. And they have thier own stretch of ocean that overlooks the Long-island sound.

It's peaceful.

Essex seems a little low on energy, but composed, working on making sure the plumbing isn't clogged and the extra lines to the communications hub are working at the moment. The subdued has come with only quiet conversation from time to time. "Tea's on. Should be ready soon."

Lucifer has posed:
There are many holidays Lucifer can get behind. The American tradition of giving thanks to a group of degenerate colonizers is - believe it or not - not one of them. Think about it. For one who spent much of his time in exile punishing the wicked, that's all the colonizers did for him. A round of people who will be forever flogged in the flames of Hell.

But this isn't that. This is after. A time reserved for relaxing.

Though he knows that sometimes relaxing and just spending time talking and hanging is to the chagrin of Nathaniel - this is needed. After events in California - including a telekinetic storm that Nathaniel almost couldn't control - and some other issues...sometimes a time away is necessary.

Teas on. That's good. Lucifer is doing as a Lucifer would when there is none much to do. He's cleaning. In the way a Devil can Dust when needed.

"Are we feeling any better?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Happy 'Well it could be worse' Day!

Oh wait. That was yesterday.

Either way with Nick managing to fulfil a volunteer commitment (After conferring with the shelter founder), there was enough of a gap between that and the tree lighting to take in the invite. And it's time to do nothing but rel-

Ok there's a bit of dust. But that's just a matter of taking this cloth and...

Whelp we at least we know which parent to blame for the need to clean, at least.

Sinister has posed:
What an interesting implication, Michael Nicholas! One can only guess.

"Need to put the pumps on, I think we had a storm surge, after that... I will be pleasantly surprised at whatever music selection gets put on. There's a record player or the MP3 hub, whichever you both feel inclined toward..."

Sinister calls that before he descends into the very small cellar to get that very thing going. It's good to know you don't have to worry about a flush and potential... float.

When he returns, he's cleaning his hands with a rag and aiming for the kitchen sink to wash them further. "I've had better days, I think," the eventual reply is careful weighted, though nothing strange is implied, it might make a body wonder. It leaves a silence that feels a little bit pregnant and might just pop a pilgrim.

Lucifer has posed:
Music? Something light and wordless. Classical maybe? Or some gentle Jazz? Either way, something begins to play through the house that is meant to hopefully keep things light and relaxed. The threat of anything popping at this point might be keeping Lucifer on a teetering edge, but he's not showing signs of that at least.

Knowing they aren't going to suddenly float away is good. At least the cottage is sufficently equipped to avoid such things. Lucifer takes another moment to step out the back door to where their garden of sorts is, though it's showing it's decline due to the weather and things being out of season.

He's more there for the cat. Putting out some fresh water and wet food.

When he comes back in, he steps over towards Nathaniel and leans against a wall nearby. "What can I do to help?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
It's probably a good thing Lucifer cued up the music instead of Nick. It might not have been the right time for Trans Siberian Orchestra or Sabaton.

Either way Nick's head bobs a bit with the beat as he finishes dusting one of the bedrooms.

It probably wouldn't be helpful to resting if you wake up to a coughing fit.

Who knew rest would be so much work?

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's eyes turn upward, fleetingly... to the man that he knows put his kit down on the bed and went to town. He shakes his head mildly as the music fills the air with sweet notes and easy listening. Having washed his hands once, he washes them again, flick dries and proceeds to pour tea for all three individuals in the house.

"Nick, tea's up!" is called up the stairs, then he looks to Lucifer with an apologetic expression.

"If I knew, I'd tell you. I feel as if I'm being... tuned? I don't even know if that's the right term to use, in all fairness."

His own cup is rested against the sink, the fridge is stared at, one fingernail plucking at a slight curve in the cuphandle's end. "Does that make sense? like someone has my engine running and keeps gunning it, then turning on all the bells and whistles, pulling out or pushing in the stops and buttons."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer shifts to grab his own cup of tea so that Nathaniel doesn't have to hand it to him. "It does make sense. How it feels anyway. What doesn't make sense is who or what could be doing it to you. If it's anything or anyone at all."

Of course he also feels a bit guilty that Nick's having to pitch in a bit to help clean up the settled dust in the cottage, but a little bit of elbow grease now will lead to loads of relaxation later. Think of the moment of respite one could have sitting on the porch facing the water where the sun will rise over the edge of the ocean. A glorious thing to behold - as far as Lucifer is concerned.

"Is there any way to perhaps figure out what's going on? Or do you think just some time here and turning parts of your brain off will help?" He takes a sip of tea, regardless that it's freshly boiled water, the heat never bothered him anyway. There's a pause. Likely a lingering one. "I'll do anything to help you."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Hearing the call to tea, Nick turns round, dropping the dust rag onto the top of a dresser. "Coming!"

Sure there's more dusting to do but hot tea is best when still hot.

With the relatively small property it doesn't take long to reach the stairs with the pitter patter of drummer feet starting not long after the announcement to his intent for pending arrival.

Squeak!

The pattering stops.

...

Squeak!

...

"I think we got a loose board on the stairs."

Sinister has posed:
"We'll take care of it later, tea first! Before it goes cold," Sinister calls, leaning his back against the sink and looking beneath his brows at Lucifer, face quite serious of a moment or two.

"I know you would. I'm all out of ideas. Do you have any bright sparks? Turning myself off was the only way that I could predictably stop the psycho-kine storm."

Tea is claimed, sipped. And with HANDS, not MIND, he brings a few slices of locally made pie out of the fridge with some clotted cream. Apple. Pumpkin and peach. THey're set on the oak wood table in the center of the kitchen area, along with the tea and forks.

"Maybe Nick will have a clue. Nick! Do you have any bright ideas how we can test me for weird interference?"

Lucifer has posed:
"I know this whole weekend was meant to relax, but if I have to dive back into your mind palace and put one of you back in their places, you bet your ass I will." Lucifer states this all matter of fact like. He then takes his tea to the table, sits, and claims a piece of peach pie. Some cream plopped onto the side of the pie slice and then he'll smirk and hovers a hand over it. Insta-warm pie! Who needs a microwave when you have a Lucifer?

When Nick calls about the loose stair board, he can't help but chuckle. "Looks like our relaxation may just come from maintaining the house... which is a far cry better than stopping murders and mental storms." He says, hoping it's taken as the tease it's meant to be.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
...

...

Squeak!

Pattering starts back up once more combined with a mental tally which both end with a finalized thump at the base of the stairwell.

"Ninth step from the bottom." Nick states as he makes his way over to collect his own cup. The pale eyes lock upon the two remaining pie options upon the table. Ooh. Is that apple with the crumbly topping?

Selection of said pie is delayed as Sinister poses his question. "Hmm?" Nick frowns in thought, "...If you want someone to peek in from the dream end of things I could look for things that shouldn't be there. Sometimes people get...squatters of sorts. Although those people tend to be in comas during that time."

Sinister has posed:
"Well, fixing things does tend to make me feel quite relaxed. And accomplished--" Sin WILL wait though, for Nick to pick the slice he wants, and yes the kind with the crumbles atop, then will have the last option. His tea is held like a warm anchor as he leans ever so slightly sidelong on the chair, elbow propped and not ram-rod straight. His slice of pie is pushed gently over to the devil for a good old warming with a brief touch to the wrist with it.

"I don't think it's a hitch hiker. I would feel... something I'm sure. I don't know if I'm being rewired or retuned or however you wish to review it, but something is making me a little topsy turvey, Nick. Ideas other than deep delving in my head would be welcome."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer warms up Nathaniel's pie in the same fashion he warmed up his own and then he does the same to Nick's - because who doesn't like their apple pie warmed? Finally, he leans back in his chair, stirring his tea with a finger out of idle mind rolling. "I don't know what else to do. You're the most powerful of your kind in some regard, and in other ways you are the only one of your kind. So there's not much to go off of..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"You're also not in a coma at the moment so you're probably right." Nick replies, head tilting to the side in consideration, "...it's also been awhile since the last time I encountered that."

As it becomes apparent the doctor is holding back from selecting his slice, Nick takes the unspoken hint to reach for the apple pie only to see Lucifer take the plate up. The musician frowns, turning to look at the devil only to find the cream getting melty and the heated plate handed back. Then there's a glance to the other pie before Sinister.

Oh-

"Thanks."

Seating himself at the table, he looks back over to Sinister and then to Lucifer. "...Firstly maybe list possible reasons that don't involve hopping directly into Nathaniel's mind." He reaches over for his tea, "What about supernatural sources? I remember one time when with Buffy's group they had a moment when something was twisting their behavior...I had to use Raphael's Flask to break it."

Sinister has posed:
"Well. I think if it's a supernatural source, Lucifer can probably do a little something to find out, I'm magically blind without my gadgets," Sinister observes, with a wrinkle of the nose, taking up a fork to indulge a cut of the pie, though he leaves the fork in it so that the cream melts further.

"Unfortunately though, you are quite correct my dearest. I am uniquely me. More than many, I suppose. Though, I obey a good many of the laws of mammalian life, I do not obey them all."

Lucifer has posed:
"I can try a little something... it won't involve actually going into your brain... but I might need a refresher on how to do it." Lucifer offers, cutting a bite from his pie to enjoy for a moment. Chasing it with a bit of tea.

"Aura reading. Oh I have some general wards left I could drop around you and see if they pop... hmm.." He's obviously still thinking. While eating pie and sipping tea. Sam and Dean Winchester would be pleased in odd ways.

"Shouldn't take long either and be minimally invasive so..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
With that suggestion pre-emptively being ruled out or- soon to be by Lucifer. Nick considers other possibilities. "The only other things I could think of are someone playing the long game by manipulating the environment itself." Nick replies, "Or you're experiencing something viral or biological."

Despite the conversation choice, Nick doesn't hold back from taking a bite of the apple pie. Eyes closing as he savors the taste of dessert.

Sinister has posed:
"Neither of the last. I've tested a couple of times for exterior infection. Besides which, my immune system is on par with my metabolic rate, very few things get a hold of me for any length of time. Biological... I ... well..." Sin scoffs. "If I were a lesser man, I might consider this is how an adolescent mutant first feels, but I've been past that a long while back. Gone are my days of being a bucket of gloop for hours on end."

But it's not that he's dismissing any of that offhand, taking stock of his pie now that the cream has melted somewhat and taking polite, victorian bites. It's a wonder how one can chew pumpkin pie, but he does. From the expression he wears, he's thinking on what's been said.

"Is there any danger of exploding anything by reading my aura or popping wards?"

Lucifer has posed:
"The wards will do nothing more than sound like..." Lucifer pauses to think. "Fourth of July. America. You can get a box of those white...popper...things... and they just sort of pop when you throw them on the ground? Like that. Only it may also bring forth what's hiding if anything is truly there..." So. Semi dangerous. Not in an explody way, but in a pissing off whatever is hidden sort of way.

"Reading your aura is easy, painless, and nothing explodes. At least... nothing has ever exploded before." He grins. "You could be the first..." Then he shrugs and glances to Nick. "Nice apple pie, isn't it? Gramma's recipe you know? She thought she buried it along with herself, but IIIIIIIIIII got it!"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Mmmhmm..." Nick manages to agree without opening his mouth. Not that anyone present would want to see him talking with his mouth full of that sweet, crumbly topped pie with a hint of cinnamon within the filling paired with the melted creaminess that had been dolloped on top.

Nick's not much of a conversationalist at the moment with the task at hand but the thoughts and expression of contentment should be explanation enough to the why.

And as the bite finally makes it's way past the tastebuds down the throat- the eyes open up again to look to the couple.

What were they talking about again?

Sinister has posed:
"Spontaneous aura-read explosion. It's the next human combustion, just you wait..." Sin wrinkles his nose, stares at Nick in mild amusement and shakes his head when the man comes back to reality for a moment after sensory overload. He gestures an airplane and 'pshooo's' it straight over the younger man's head.

"Well. Alright. So, do I have to do anything? This is me, essentially volunteering to be poked at by the pair of you."

Lucifer has posed:
Wards are easy enough as they're kept in some alt-dimensional pocket he can just reach into and then toss them on the ground in various places. None of them pop. Not even a crackle. And nothing steps into the light and screams 'boo!'. So there goes that theory.

Then he just looks at Nathaniel. Really looking at him. In some ways, it may almost seem like Lucifer is looking past him. Though once he sees what he's looking for he actually winces and looks away.

"Listen. There is only one Lightbringer between us and that's me. Your aura is super shiny and all over the place... like it's trying to supernova but it can't quite go kablooey..." He tilts his head then. "If you were to really think about it. How do you feel right now? Like really feel. Like. Really -really- feel."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As Sin's hand passes over his head, Nick's eyes glance up, looking to the offending gesture. Hey, if you wanted full attention, don't bring up the topic while someone's enjoying a REALLY GOOD treat.

Nick considers the volunteering, "Didn't you already rule out the portion where there'd be need for me to be poking?"

Phrasing.

"Unless you really do want me to use Raphael's Flask on you. But th-"

Nick looks to Lucifer staring at Sin.

Yep. Not needed.

Nick gets another bite of pie in.

Sinister has posed:
The whizzbangs and poppers do neither of their assigned tasks, no matter how hard Nathaniel stares at them. Well, that's something at least -- and he does not explode on having his aura read. Also, a good sign. And all the commentary. "Well," he wrinkles his nose, twists lips to the side and peers down at his casual about-the-house sweater and pants.

"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm almost on one of those celebrity doctor shows?" The mutter is audible and clear, just quiet. "Erm..."

Frown. He eyes Nick, eyes Lucifer again. Back and forth a couple of times.

"Like I've had to much caffiene, that I'm liable to need to dance all night to burn off the dexadrine, that I might have had a bit too much vitamin B complex, like I'm about to get a migraine from hell and like I have the after-hangover with all the shakes and collywobbles. I occasionally feel nauseus, which is odd, all things considered."

Lucifer has posed:
"Your aura kinda matches that. It's all bright and erratic. Like you've got built up energy or something." Lucifer offers this and then smiles. "Maybe you don't need to relax. Maybe you actually need to expend yourself." He pauses. "Safely though. If that's possible. I feel like I could literally stick things in you and they'd run off all that energy you have stored up..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick tilts his head to the listing of how Sinister feels. There's a slight bob of the head.

Well aren't those familiar sounding things?

Nick swallows.

"...Honestly it kind of sounds like Anxiety." Nick comments, securing another bit of pie upon his fork, but holding the scoop over the plate, "High stress situations, underlying health problems, phobias, trauma..."

Nick pauses, setting the fork back down on the plate. Instead of taking the bite, he reaches for the tea.

Sinister has posed:
"Anxiety?" Sinister considers that, his head tilting a fraction. "I wouldn't know." He considers again, "Except that that makes very little sense, given that I can control all biological processes in my anatomy with pinpoint accuracy. But then again, I can perform surgery with nothing but my thoughts when the world is working right."

Although the words do sound dismissive, the TONE is saying something very much else.

At this point, says the tone, I have no idea if I know, what I know, or if I do not know my arse from my elbow.

Anxiety. "Huh." Well. "It would make sense for the symptoms but not for the cause I suppose. Also how. And why? And again... /how/."

Lucifer has posed:
"Maybe you're trying to evolve but part of you is resisting the evolution." Lucifer says this much. "You say you can do all these things. Control all these things. That may have been true before, but it's not true NOW. I bet if you tried, you'd fail. Not due to lack of skill, but because you are very much all over the place." He says this much and then shrugs. "You have so much DNA in you, your genomes are all...." Okay, he's trying to sound smart but knows he's going to fail.

"You're out of whack, Nathaniel, and you need to get back into whack. Otherwise your whacks are going to go all over the place to the point we can't bring it all back and fix it. So either go expend some energy, let me into your brain, or figure out how to evolve." Then he looks at Nick. "I'm with you. I think."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Nathaniel, You seem to be a person who really likes to be in control of their situation." Nick replies, "With the Azazel sitution, the wings situation, your... uh- tiff with the batch of Lucifer's kin that you used to get along with... That's a lot of stuff already to be factoring in. Then we had that other near apocalypse..."

Nick voice dies off for a moment as he sighs, "The point is, not everything is really controllable and that could be a causing factor of anxiety."

Sinister has posed:
There's a lodge of protest being formulated on that face. It settles in, the motions beginning to rebuff, to argue that case from his perspective, but it kind of dies before launch, as the man frowns and eases back into the seat.

All of what just got said, from start to finish from both parties, is troubling. Deeply so.

"Well, this is going to be an interesting endeavour, isn't it? I'm not precisely the kind of individual that you -want- to be unshackled and unbridled. Terrible things might happen -- they do on a small scale every time a mutant comes into their power, after all, with a few exceptions; and personal rather than environmental or objective trauma."

He fiddles his pie slice around a bit, moving it for a change of scenery.

"Any bright ideas?"

Lucifer has posed:
"No. You're not the kind that those stupid mutants at the mansion want unshackled. I couldn't care less. You've got labs to keep yourself and others safe in. Places you can go to just let it all out. I think that's what you need. You've been storing and thinking and holding and helping so much that you just need to... explode. In a sense." Lucifer says this again. "Like a star about to go supernova. That's your aura right now."

He shrugs then. "I have no idea. But I will support whatever you need to do to help yourself calm thy tits."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Listening to Lucifer, Nick tilts his head to what the devil says. He can't really argue against venting. And if it's in a controlled environment, all the better.

...

What?

Your childhood was a controlled environment.

Ok. Bad choice of words. If it's in a controlled environment Nathaniel signed off on. Then it'd be fine.

"Before I found music I did find a little bit of relief in fighting." Nick admits, "...But being that the ones causing my problems wanted me fighting, that was not helping the overall situation. The key thing is venting or getting your self back in order isn't always just screaming or fighting. There's a reason why I learned so many instruments. Well, beyond the increased marketability for session work."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister appears not to know what to say to that. It does look like someone introduced a vacuum into his mouth though with how tight he's sucking his cheeks against his teeth.

Eventually, after several glances left and right to the two familiar faces, he lets out a sigh and rubs at his eyeballs with the finger and thumb of his non-sinister hand.

"Good, good. I suspect I might need to go up to the Oort cloud and play snooker with asteroids or something. If I can. I mean, I don't know now, do I? I might suddenly become subject to the vacuum of space as I cannot control..." he mutters, grunts and frustratedly impales the remains of his pudding-of-pie with his fork. It's messy, that slice remainder.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer rolls his eyes. "Don't get snippy with us. We're just trying to give you ideas. Each one having been given one excuse or another. Oh it can't be this because I can control myself. It's not that either because I can do ALL THE THINGS." Lucifer looks at Nathaniel then. Dead on in the eyes. "You need to make a decision. Something. Anything. But if you want OUR help, then at least act like you're fucking taking our help seriously because right now it feels like you're more pushing us away than letting us help you."

That also does it for Lucifer. He lets his fork clatter onto his plate, pushes out from the table and stands before walking right out the front door. Nothing more said. His pie barely eaten. His tea half gone. But then, so is he.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick's eyes lift up to look over to Lucifer as he speaks up regarding Sinister's comments.

Lips pressing together tightly he opts not to add on to what Lucifer said and instead quietly watch as the devil takes a walk.

As the door swings shut, allowing for the old frame to make a banging sound, Nick glances down to his plate, frowning.

Once the sound dies away, Nick clears his throat. "Hmmph." A hand lifts up, thumb and pointer finger tapping along the throat for a moment before lowering once more next to the plate.

"If there was any doubt that we were family, the near Thanksgiving dinner table argument would probably quell that."

The musician glances back over to the Doctor. "Everybody has their blindspot or weak point. I think one is communication. Not everyone can be a world level telepath after all."

The fork lifts, "Pie's delicious though."

Sinister has posed:
Whatever sass might have come from a different moment is bitten back hard in the face of words spilling forth like the bottom fell out of the stormcloud. The deluge has Sinister sitting up a little straighter, leaning away juuust enough to make it noticeable, but not enough for it to be ridiculously obvious. Small concessions are nevertheless what they are, in the face of annoyed Archangel of the light.

You'd have to be a blithering idiot NOT to take that slightly seriously.

With the slamming of the door, there's a tick to the doctor's cheek, which considering HIM is about as good as a full on wince and cringe and with one single fleeting glance to Nick, his face is hidden in the hand that pinched at his eyes; the gesture is an easy translation of one state to the other.

Words hang heavy, almost at the edge of being heard, that actively arent' and he rubs at his sternum with his other hand, as if he had heartburn.

Odd that.

"I wish we could take credit for it, but despite the jest earlier, it was bought from the mum and pop diner in town. Nice couple, kids all gone, retirement and all that."

He sighs, stares at the door as his hand lowers, then at the one remainer. "I suspect that I am going to regret all of this for years to come." Another sigh, albeit smaller. "I do apologize. This was not how I was expecting today to go." He rises then, gesturing into the living room. "There's satellite, high speed internet and all that nonsense. Full fridge of nibbles. Do excuse me, I have to attempt..." he pauses, trails off, shakes his head with a shrug "...something. Buggered if I know how to even begin."

So saying, he puts pie smoosh in the compost and plate in the sink after a rinse, walks out to the back deck and explodes into a shoal of fish. After some splashing, there's a distinct lack of Essex on the dock.