Midnight Shadows Guided Games GENEsis: DOFP Genesis In Character Days of Future Past [SentS] It's a long way down. [Ericka / Sebastian]


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Yesterday, 11:58 AM
[In-Character] [Post #41]
Third time was the charm, or so the saying went. Third time was the moment she almost snapped. Andrea Bock and her ridiculous mouth, her whining attitude, and lazy demeanor. Apparently the serum she had been charged with custody over had been the only vial Andrea’s team had managed to stabilize. Her presence in the conference room poked and prodded at her irritation, but the knowledge that the small team would have to attempt to duplicate the results from scratch were promising enough to temper the rebuttal sitting in wait on the tip of her tongue.

It was becoming a taxing thing, though. She had been present within some structure of SentS for the better side of over half a decade, and it seemed, her time was wearing as thin as her patience.

Perhaps it was better that way.

She had never thought that her intended profession would have made her so sick. Even if she had stepped foot into the field without a clue as to who she was or what she was meant to do. She could place all of her blame over the matter on Tony. Luckily enough for him, he was no longer around to experience the brunt of her agitation.

What he had hoped for, had grown exponentially out of the realm of his consideration. She often wondered if he had ever thought it possible that his hope to secure the world would lead to where it was currently. Humans hunting what was in essence their own kind simply because of genetic mutation. It had happened hundreds of times over the course of human evolution. Fear was a great motivator.

Being removed, or discovered, afforded her the ability to shed the mask she had donned. However, it also removed her from a placement that afforded the likes of those standing against the Services a leg up. She would no longer be able to relay intel or move samples if she were compromised. She would no longer be able to put counter measures into appropriate hands. Everything she hated about the association she worked for could grow darker, and possibly worse simply because the outside stood to be severed.

It was already happening.

Valeria was gone.

Danvers had fallen off the proverbial map.

Guthrie, though…

She snapped herself back into the moment and gave a nod when Annabelle Taggert asked if she understood the predicament that she had let herself slip into. Of curse she understood, this was the third time in a two-week period she had been reminded about it. Once she was released, it was too late in the day to pursue any new endeavor. She put away all her equipment, locked all of her files in the cabinet at her desk and left the building behind.

The uber ride home was quick enough, sure it cost more than taking the subway, but there were days when she couldn’t stand the thought of being that close to random people she didn’t know. She scrolled through the emails on her phone and made her payment once they had arrived, adding a decent tip since he had managed to get her home within a short period of time, and he had left her alone. Still, she at least tanked him and climbed out of the vehicle. She dug around in her purse for her keys as she made her way up the step and reached to slide her card key against the reader when she startled and dropped the small ring on the ground.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him, half his figure cut by the shadow of the neighboring building thanks to the awful short daylight hours the time of year offered. How many months had she been allotted not seeing him, only to have him suddenly thrust right back into her life.

Every accusatory question she could have posed about his presence filtered through her thoughts and remained thankfully behind her teeth.

“Are you okay?” She asked carefully, confusion peppering her tone as she bent over to retrieve her keys. Her fingers curled around them and the metal dug into the skin of her palm, but there was no possible potential for injury no matter how tightly she gripped them. Her mind shifted through possibilities, trying to supply her with reasoning for his presence, but she came up blank. Unless he had been tasked with another interrogation. “Are you here to fire me?” Because at that point in the day, she may welcome the relief of duties. “Or is there something wrong?” Immediately she thought about his health, and then skipped to the twins, then onto the legal matters that existed between him and his ex.
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Yesterday
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[In-Character] [Post #42]
Sebastian swallowed, exhaled with a small quiver when from the uber pulling up to the curb a familiar figure emerged. He watched, in silence, as if being too loud, too forward, too fast would set something off. He did feel like a house of cards. If something rattled him just a little too much he worried he would implode. Or do something. He had no idea about the things he could do.

Where did it start? Where would it end? Could he touch anything at all? Well, the coat had not melted under his touch. So … it was not living vs. inanimate object. Something else activated and deactivated the additional effects of his touch. But what? Emotion? Had he not surmised in so many of the cases he worked that emotion was the trigger for so many of the mutants and supers he had come across?

Sebastian’s gaze followed the set of keys as she dropped them. Part of him wanted to rush forward, pick them up, hold them out for her – but he doubted it was a good idea when running the risk of simply melting them into nothingness. She stared at him, and Sebastian wondered what for. What was it that was going through her mind? Was she angry? Did she was to yell at him for just showing up here? It certainly was not quite his style – then again, this moment was not just like any other evening.

The suppressant was wearing off. That was a state of emergency. The serious kind.
Like so often in the last two hours, he wondered why he had skipped that shot.
Why.

Her first question was careful, her tone measured but he could hear the confusion. “Sorry”, was all he pushed out in response. “No”, he said, now her confusion vaulting to him as well. This was not about work. Well, not really any way.

Her next question sounded different yet but her tone resounded with something inside of him. Something that still lived there, and that remembered the nights and days they had spent sharing his bed. That something ached, willing to leap out of his chest. Sebastian swallowed again, his eyes darting left and right to see if anyone was close by, within earshot to overhear.

For the moment, it was just them. His shoulders pulled up, he remained standing where he was. The cold was slowly seeping into his bones and he had begun shivering. He knew he could not just say it. I did not have my shot of suppressant. I’m manifesting. Even with a seemingly empty street, Sebastian knew the Services better than to assume any sense of being safe.

He pulled his hands from his coat pockets, offering his palms to her in front of his thighs. Of course he knew that this would not give her any kind of indication about what was going. Or could she guess? There had been a time when she had been at an uncanny level of being able to extract his thoughts. It was why part of his mind sometimes wanted to get angry, insisted on the fact that she should have known. She should have known that despite what he did, how he had ended things … he still …

Still …

“Four days ago, I should have gotten icecream”, he said, his mind frayed a little, unable to find better code for what he wanted to tell her. “You know? Chocolate.” His eyes were on her, staring into the depths of hers, willing her to understand.

“But I … I didn’t get chocolate.”

He remembered the moment, even if just in glimpses, at the parlour where she had been and then … then Gabriel Summers. Ericka had been there, had taken him home – and she had left him with questions and ideas in his mind that he had been unable to shake.

“No chocolate”, he repeated, his voice a whisper and he balled his hands into fists. His entire body was tense as he stood in front of the only person he could think of to turn to – and he wondered whether she would be able to grasp the meaning underlying the silly analogy he had chosen.
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Yesterday, 04:17 PM
[In-Character] [Post #43]
His answers were clipped at best, simple, near single syllables. The simplest form of an apology, for the moment that presented. Then a declination of her hoped intent of being fired. She watched his eyes shift, over her face, then about them, watched him swallow as though he was trying to gather himself, and she waited. There was no point trying to pry it out of him, he was ever so capable of letting on what he wanted, even when she could at times draw his thoughts forth out of the most minute expression to flitter across his face.

That had been seemingly so long ago.

She felt her brows pinch as she tried to make sense of the confusion in his features, the hint of anxiety, the breath of being troubled by something. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and offered his palms forth, which served to confuse her all the more.

Then there was the ghost of anger in the way his mouth turned slightly downward at the corners. Something reminiscent, trying push forward and failing in light of whatever it was he actually wanted to convey to her. Her lips parted in response, trying to arrange her own thoughts into another question that would branch out further. Until he interrupted her.

Four days.

She frowned deeper.

Four days since he should have gotten ice cream. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t making sense. He was an adult, he could walk himself to the ice cream parlor, or book an uber, or hail a damned taxi. He didn’t need her to hold his hand.

She-

Chocolate, he clarified. He hadn’t gotten chocolate.

Phenethylamine.

Ericka narrowed her eyes at him. She watched him roll his hands into fists, frustration in the tendons of his wrists. He was trying to tell her something without being obvious. No chocolate. She had- oh. Oh.

She lifted her keys and waved the keycard before the scanner, let her eyes sweep over him. He looked fine, but that didn’t mean anything. Well, he didn’t look fine, he looked…off. Anxious in some regard. He hadn’t…and he had shown up at her apartment. Right in line with the same day that she had once more been lectured about her carelessness. Odd timing, but she pushed it aside and made her way up the four steps to the front door to her duplex building and paused there. Then she turned and looked at him, lifted her brows. “Well?” Had he shown up at her doorstep to just stand around?

When he seemed to get the message and climbed up the steps after her, she held the door open for him. “Go upstairs.” She sighed. “I don’t have any chocolate ice cream.” Even though actual chocolate ice cream sounded amazing at the moment.

And he had come to her.

Once the front door was securely shut behind her and the locking engaged, she followed him up the steps to the upper apartment of the pair. Whatever it was that was pushing through in the waking lack of a dose of suppressant, it at least wasn’t obvious. No blue skin, no colorless eyes, no horns, no extra Just him, still. She wasn’t exactly sure where they could possibly go and have a completely quiet conversation completely without risk, but honestly, she was at a point where she had little care in that regard.

She was equipped well enough to remove herself from SentS reach if necessary. Might as well go out with a bang if it came down to it. She unlocked the front door and set her hand at his shoulder to usher him inside, closing the door behind her and setting the deadbolt for some reason. As if that would make it safer.

“What, uhm…” She shrugged out of her jacket and let it, along with her bag, fall haphazardly to the floor about her feet where she stood. She tossed the keys onto the coffee table and then briefly pressed her hands against either side of her neck. It was the uncertainty that was the most disarming. “Are you okay?” She asked. Again. She had asked that already.
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Yesterday
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Yesterday, 04:48 PM
[In-Character] [Post #44]
Relief had washed through him when realisation had registered in her eyes. It helped with the growing anxiety, this weird thing that was twisting and turning and tightening into a coil that would eventually burst. Who was he? What was he? What were the things he could do? Was his touch now lethal?

Sebastian was glad when her apartment door finally fell shut behind them. He did appreciate the sound of the deadbolt sliding home. He turned around, finding it odd to realise that he hardly dared to move. Should he try take off the coat? Or would he risk incinerating the thing then? He had randomly affected things. He had not yet touched a living object other than himself.

So he just stared, willing to take off his coat but unable to. He stared at Ericka’s jacket and purse on the floor. Then back up – he tried to remember when he had been here last. Her question shook him out of the odd sensation of being completely out of control. “No”, he responded, shaking his head. “I touch things, they melt or burn or just crumble to dust. But I don’t know what. Some things do, others don’t. I’ve not touched anything living yet. I …”, another shake of his head. “I … what if I kill upon touch now?” Would gloves keep it in check? Another Anna Beaumont. Gloved up even on the hottest day of summer. Great.

“I’m sorry”, he murmured. “I didn’t know what to do”, he said, holding his hands at his side, a safe distance from about everything around him.

“I thought about what you said … and then … It was a spur of the moment thing. I faked the document. Made it look like I got the shot and walked out again.”

Was he rambling? Sebastian knew that he was talking a lot right now, out of nervousness and fear. Plain old fear. The anxiety was still there, flitting through his mind, not letting him grab a single thought long enough.

“It started today…”

He turned his hands, palms towards her as if by just showing them he could make her witness the things he could do. But of course, he palms looked normal. Sebastian huffed, looked about and then grabbed a pair of sandals. He knew these. A pair he had never seen her wear. Or so he hoped, not that he knew to trust his memory in this regard. He was a man! And yet, he was also a lawyer – and lawyers needed to notice things.

He picked them up, one with each hand. One melted in a way where glowing lines of what could be ambers of a fire drew across the shew. Then it was gone. Nothing happened to the other. Sebastian let his gaze wander between his hands, and he could not help how his spirits took yet another nosedive. How would he discern how to touch something without destroying it? And how would he find out whether it worked on living tissue as well?

Sebastian dragged his gaze up, meeting Ericka’s. “I’ll buy you a new pair”, he said apologetically.
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