tampered | Log; ongoing

Log; ongoing

When; September 11th, shortly after two am
Rating; PG
Characters; Saya

bigmamasboy
Summary; Saya needs her big brother to explain something to her.
Log;

Saya stood at the top of the bluff, wondering if she should take the time to wander down. She didn't want to have to do what she was doing, but he could explain it to her, and she needed an explanation.

She made her way down the sand towards the rickety shack set up on the edge of the beach carefully, knowing that the tides were high and dangerous, her sandals slipping on the sand even as she caught her balance. She had a pair of board shorts and a shirt on; unusually dressed down, but nothing else she owned could actually go to the beach.

She made her way to the shack, her bribe of chips, salsa and beef jerky in hand to talk to her brother.

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Unlike within City Proper borders, Socrates didn't have to smoke several cigarettes to drown out the smells of chemicals, exhaust, and blood. Here he could take deep breaths of that salty sea air, fresh and clean, comforting to his true nature. He had no particular loyalty towards the moon either, but its soothing glowing light only emphasized the crests of waves as the tide rose. He could appreciate that.

"S'that me sister I 'ear coming down the rocks," Scholar asked aloud. He got up from his hammock, yes a hammock, and poked his head through the open bamboo doorway. "Dolled up for th'occasion too, I feel right'n special," he feigned wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "Give Scholar a hand," he offered Saya his own, to help her down the short wooden pathway.

Saya took her brother's hand and said, "This is better than your place on the North Shore. At least here you have a roof."

She handed him the bag of groceries with her other hand. "I brought you snacks. I knew you would be hungry after smoking all that weed," she said softly, her callused fingers fitting his his palm. He was so much bigger than her; she forgot that no matter how often she saw him.

"It's lovely out here, nonetheless." Saya told him quietly. She may have been serving the Weaver, but she appreciated the Wyld too.

"Aww 'oo needs a bloody roof at North Shore," Scholar grinned, leading Saya into his little, little beach shack. He barely had a kitchenette where the groceries would fit... not that they were going to be in storage for long.

"Snacks! Bless me sister, I've been starving all fucking day!"

Immediately he reached into the bag for the salsa and chips, because beef jerky kept well. Pop! Both bag and bottle were cracked open for a dip and crunch. Like an orgasm in the mouth really. Oh right, he remembered himself and nudged one of the plastic chairs in Saya's direction.

" 'ave a seat. You want a drink," he asked while setting the beef jerky aside.

She nudged the seat closer and brushed off the sand before sitting down and crossing her legs. "It does rain at North Shore," she reminded him before shaking her head, "Nothing to drink, I ate before I got here."

She had eaten; someone old, someone she didn't know, and had been saving for a while. He had been sour and sweet.

"I need to ask you something, Socrates," she said, steepling her fingers and leaning back, her face blank, "And I need you to be honest with me."

"But I love the rain," he grinned, completely oblivious to the concept of soaked clothing. His life was the water after all.

"All right, but 'elp yourself when you want to," Scholar upnodded to the tiny, tiny fridge in the corner of the kitchenette. He settled in the hammock, sitting upright to avoid spilling that salsa and chips. His concern didn't lie in the potential staining, he simply didn't want to waste a single drop of either. Chomp! "Wossi'," asked Socrates around a chip.

Hm? He tilted his head briefly then nodded, "when've you known me no'to be?"

He loved the rain, she hated it. She couldn't even go in the ocean without that old fear welling up in her, terrifying her. She wondered if it broke his heart that his favorite sister would never know the sea.

"I don't understand offense," she said blandly. "I don't understand why one person gets hurt because of something I say. I haven't actually hurt them. I haven't touched them. I haven't hurt anyone, but people are offended nonetheless." She wondered if that made any sense to him.

"Explain it to me," she said.

Only briefly, but it didn't bother him much. Socrates was just as comfortable in the city, providing that it was a coastal one. He could never survive in a midwest metropolitan area, he didn't think Saya could either.

"Offense? What do you mean by that," he quirked a brow at his younger sister before shoveling another salsa covered chip. Ahh, now that made sense where Saya was concerned. Verbal abuse, emotional trauma, the sort of thing she could easily commit with sharp wit and not even know she was doing it. It seemed more like a natural habit to her rather than intentional abuse, at least Socrates thought so.

"You mean, why do people feel 'urt cos o'words, 'ey?" He placed his snacks aside, dusted his hands free of salt... sort of. "Some people care about what others are saying, 'specially people they know," he nodded, "don't know how many you know personally 'round 'ere though." Socrates grinned.

She would die in a midwestern town; her spider soul would shrivel from the lack of culture.

"People always seem offended when I say things. And then their friends are offended. Or they're offended when I say something to them about someone they know." She shrugged. "Is that truth that vile? I tell you you're an idiot all the time, but you know it's only because I'm saying what's true, not to hurt you."

That wasn't exactly true. Sometimes she did want to hurt him, and she didn't know why; but mostly, it was because he was an idiot that she said that.

"Words cannot cause pain or distress. They're only words. Even lies...even ones that shred the Weaving, mage-words, they don't hurt." She was puzzled, and trying to put it together. "Are feelings that crippling?"

"S'not about the truth being vile, Saya me luv, s'about what you think is the truth when it might not be," he nodded to the brunette. "Could be th'whole truth, a partial truth, or not the truth at all yeh, you don't know everything," Scholar shrugged casually, that was the truth, "could be your opinion."

Then he laughed! But only briefly. "Sister mine, you're like Big Mama herself. Look at that," he gestured to the glassy surface of the sea, beyond his shack 'window'. "No one knows what's going on under that water, but I do. It's not cos it's true, it's cos I can read you."

Scholar shrugged, "too bad not everyone's blessed with me skills." He smiled and took another chip covered in salsa. "They don't 'urt you, sister mine, but not everyone can be like you."

Saya was struck silent for a moment.

She looked up at her brother and said softly, "I don't understand." It was frustrating when she didn't; it made her question parts of herself. She bit her thumb; hard enough that the skin broke and two tiny spiders squeezed their way out. She stared at them in silence. They crawled over her hand, part of her, even as the skin closed up again.

"If my words aren't true then why not just dismiss them and get over them? If they are true, why not just admit them? Humans are strange," she added quietly. She frowned. "At least you make sense." She looked out at the water. "Can you really read me that well?"

Not that he minded having a few spiders in the shack, Socrates probably had a jungle snake slithering somewhere over the roof too. The wildlife added to the natural decor. But he felt concerned for the bite Saya had inflicted on herself.

"You do understand, Saya. Isn't it 'ow you're feeling now? S'called a bit of empathy, everyone's got it sometime," Scholar reached out to drape his arm across her shoulders. "Some birds and blokes can't brush it off as well as you. Fact o'bloody life innit?" He gave her a solid but gentle squeeze. "I think so, enough to get me by," the blond winked before giving her a salsafied kiss to the cheek.

She stared at him, puzzled. "I'm not offended. Just confused." The spiders crawled from her hand to his, making their way up his arms and into his hair. She watched them impassively, feeling the threads of his hair under her legs.

She carefully wiped the kiss away, the remnants of salsa on her hand. "I suppose," she answered, although her question remained unsatisfied. She curled into his arm, just like she had when she was younger.

She leaned up and pressed a tiny kiss against his jawbone, satisfied that it would be enough for him. "Brother-mine," she said blandly, nudging up against him. "You didn't answer the question, but thanks for trying anyway."

In his hair?? While the Aussie didn't particularly mind their presence in his blond locks, they had better hope to escape the filaments before he dove into the ocean for his midnight swim. He wouldn't have known any better, poor arachnids.

The kiss to his jaw made Scholar smile. "Right," he conceded, though he believed differently, that Saya really just needed to wait for the information to sink in. "Aww you're welcome luv, anything for the only sister I've got 'oo brings me munchies in the middle o'the night!" He offered a grin and another squeeze, this one a little overzealous perhaps. "You still 'ave to tell me more about this Arthur bloke," he eyed her carefully, ever the protective brother.

They made their way back down his shoulder and sat there, commiserating about shark-smell. Saya turned her attention away from the salt on his skin and back to her brother's question.

"Arthur? He's a good man," she said softly. He was a good man; an understanding one, and a patient one. She liked him in spite of herself. "He's significantly older than me," she explained, and added, "He's got a pair of vampire bodyguards. What else do you need to know?"

She liked Arthur, but she didn't love him; she didn't think she ever would love him. It was doubtful that her relationship with him would last particularly long; they both had secrets, and eventually one would get out. "It's really not that serious," she added.

His shoulder was a safer place than his hair, at least this time Socrates noticed them. His own t-shirt was as blue as the ocean, complete with signage he didn't particularly understand, a hand me down in Japanese no less. Not that what it said mattered to him, as long as it could go in the water. His black, white, and gray board shorts fit the criteria.

"Significantly? I'm sure that means nothing when it comes to being smarter then 'im 'ey," Scholar grinned, because no one took advantage of Saya without her knowing. And if they succeeded in doing so, they had the shark man himself to deal with. "I told you vampires are good blokes when they want to be!"

He gave her a light nudge to the side. "It might change, you never know. Just roll with the tide, and tell me if I need to give the man a good 'iding," the blond smirked.

The spiders stopped their conversation and scuttled back to her, burrowing back into her skin. She rubbed the spot where they moved in comfort and turned back to her older brother.

"You think so highly of me," she said, but he was right. Arthur wasn't an idiot; she wouldn't date him if he was, but sometimes she thought he might be a little naive. "I've never had a problem with vampires. They simply have never proven interesting. In any case, one of his vampire pets dislikes me. The other I have only met once."

"Of course, I'll let you know if something should arise."

He watched the spiders skitter away, used to the sight of the creatures that made Saya's body just as she was accustomed to seeing his eyes lose their size to his hunger. Subtle signs between siblings.

"Bloody right I do, and it's not just cos I'm your brother," Scholar winked before removing his arm... to shovel at the salsa again. He chomped down two chips at once. "So which one's going to need a li'l shark watch," oops, he caught a little dribble of red off the corner of his mouth with a third chip. "Ace, sister mine, you know 'ow to reach me for that. Likely to think you won't be needing it though, knock on wood."

He rapped his knuckles on the walls of his shack. No they didn't collapse.

She palmed her cheek and leaned forward, still watching Scholar eat. "It won't be an issue, Socrates," she told him. "I know the Network isn't on your list of preferred activities."

She watched the shack's walls withstand his knocking and was rather impressed. "I'm glad the Sydney Opera House stands up to the pressures and rigors of you knocking, beloved."

"But watching me sister's six is," he countered with a matter of fact nod. Although vocalizing such a thought was difficult for the blond, he would put protecting her before surfing the waves and crests.

"S'cos it's strong like Syndney 'erself," Scholar proclaimed with a hefty amount of pride. "A good lot of explosions already and it still lives," he winked.

Just like she would protect him before she tended to her webs, her sylie, or her dinner. The tendencies to watch out for each other went both ways.

"At the very least, if it falls it's not like it can hurt you," she added dryly, standing up. "Thank you for the advice, brother mine," she added before she was cut off by the sound of an explosion. The noise rocked her to her core. She snapped her head up, more annoyed than frightened, and hissed, "Quiet, quiet, quiet."

[ooc: cue the damn explosions. People in this place need hobbies]

"S'cos Sydney loves me," Scholar grinned. He hadn't considered naming the shack like he had named his boards, but Syndey Shack had a nice ring to it.

Then the explosions happened, though this one sounded behind them.

"Shite not again," he muttered.

The vibrations alone signaled to the blond that it was large, involved at least two heavy weight parties, somewhere in the forest. It didn't feel like they were coming towards the beach though, thank christ. As nice as Vash seemed, he couldn't stand to have another pit opened along the shores, turned to glass. Poor crabs without homes. Poor Saya.

Scholar took immediate action, jumping from his hammock to grab that MP3 player sitting besides his laptop. He plugged the large earmuff style headphones into the jack and slipped the gaudy device over Saya's head then pressed play.

Three in the morning and I gotta be some place, I don't remember where! Friends try to make me stay or call me a cab home, I grab my keys and a beer!

"BETTER," Scholar asked.

The spider mind jolted, then eased. Music made sense - melody wasn't deafening, even when it was Scholar's music.

She pressed them against her ears as the connections to herself reformed. She hated his music; loud, toneless, irritating, but it was better than explosions and better than curling up in the sylie and hoping to god that the noise would be dampened by her webs.

She stared at him, her dark eyes wide and frustrated, the distaste one of the few emotions that came through well, and one of the few remaining that conveyed on her face. Finally she nodded and sat back down in the chair, crossed her arms and waited for the vibrations to finish.

Idiot citizens. Didn't they have anything better to do with their time?

Scholar listened carefully, with the intensity of a dark open water predator. He was trailing something, waiting for it.... There.

"Designate someone other than me! I'm so drunk I can hardly see! Another shot of jager and I turn the key, I got so many places to be!!"

He sang in tune with the band, his words falling in time with the song on her headphones like magic. In truth, Socrates was just that good about his loud, toneless, and irritating music. At least it kept Saya sane. Sort of.

Saya rubbed her head and said in a level voice in words she would have never managed with the explosions going on around her, "Do you mind if I sleep here?"

The thought nearly killed her. To sleep in human form in a sandy shack, with or without her brother was nigh unthinkable. But getting through the City would be impossible; she was much more likely to scatter then to manage to get home.

Cue the air guitar--oh what? He stopped to scoop another dose of salsa onto a chip before demolishing it between his jaws.

"Definitely not, me sister. You can 'ave the hammock," he grinned.

It was like dealing with a five year old. Attention span of a gnat. And she knew that from personal experience with gnats.

She moved towards the hammock; opened the cloth and shook it out before sliding into it.

"Someone is going to pay for this, Socrates," she muttered, but realized he probably wasn't listening.

He was too busy with the air guitar.

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