2022-07-19 - Uncertain Quiet

It's early evening, a day or two after Mikaere's departure. Una knows, of course, but she's been careful not to push the topic: if Jules wants to talk, she can talk. If she doesn't... well, that's perfectly fine too, because Una? She's not pushy. In the kitchen of 5 Oak, the redhead is just taking a big pan full of lasagne out of the oven, the rich smell of tomatoes and garlic and cheese wafting through the open doors to the backyard, and through the house as well.

It's not as if she's announced 'I'm making dinner for everyone' but it could so easily turn into that, even if Della's not-- for the moment-- at home to join in. And if no one's inclined to eat? That's what leftovers are for.

Jules has definitely not been talking. (Why would she? Everything's fine.) She's got her routine to keep her busy, during the day, and it's not as if she spent every evening out...just a good number of them. The front door opens and closes as Jules comes home from work, and but a few seconds pass before she pops her head into the kitchen, following her nose.

"That smells delicious. What're you making?"

How convenient. It's not that Una blushes... or, well, if she does, it's probably just because the oven is hot and she's had her face so-very-recently up close to it, and definitely not to do with her hopeful ploy (if, indeed, that is what it is). "Jules," she says, pleased, as the big pan gets set down on the stovetop, her hands helpfully covered by the oven mitts. "Lasagne. Come and eat with me? There's beer, and for that matter, red wine, because I needed wine in the sauce, and..."

She turns a hopeful smile on the other woman.

"Sure. Like I'd say no to lasagne." Jules grins as she steps around one of the kittens. They smell the food, too. "Let me grab a shower first? I'll be quick. And that extra five minutes will help ensure we don't burn ourselves when we're eating. I vote for wine, if it's already open." She stoops to scritch Athena between the ears and is rewarded with a pleased arch of her spine and tail.

Jules is true to her word. It's only five minutes, enough to rinse off the sweat and salt and change into fresh clothes. Just shorts and an old, greying tee; she's barefoot when she comes back downstairs. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Take your time," Una insists. She's so pleased to have company for dinner (this company in particular? It's so hard to tell) that she likely means it, too, without hesitation. "I'll get things ready while you do that."

By the time Jules is back, she's been true to her word: there are plates and knives and forks and wine glasses on the table, and the open bottle of (acceptable but not especially expensive) wine to go with them, plus of course the lasagne itself, oozing béchamel where it has been cut into big chunks. "Poor the wine," she prompts, "while I dish up? And then you can tell me about your day. Hephaestus, no."

The kitten in question sulks around her ankle, rejected from his attempt to climb up to the table. Woe, woe, woe.

Poor little kitty. Denied.

Jules steps to the table and makes good on the request, pouring out two glasses and replacing the bottle in the center of the table before she herself sits. "Just another day ending in Y," she says first with a shrug. She reaches for her wine glass and takes a sip, keeping the glass in her hand to swirl the wine like she's seen others do. "Tour out on the Copalis today. Where the ghost forest is. And actually," she modifies, "there was a moment out there on the water when that stretch of dead trees almost kinda shimmered. Like -- one moment, just a dead patch, and then like the original forest was overlaid on top. No one else seemed to notice. I can't decide if it was creepy or cool. An actual ghost forest."

While Jules pours wine, Una dishes up, passing one plate to Jules and then setting the other down in front of her usual spot. Having done so, she settles in to sit, Hephaestus curling himself up atop her bare foot, just for emphasis: his foot, even if it is plainly not his table.

"Yeah?" she says, with a furrow of her brows as she reaches for her own wine glasses, lifting it in an idle toast before she too takes a sip. "Like it was all superimposed? That's... kind of creepy cool, I think." She thinks. She doesn't seem entirely certain, but then, she's been jumpy of late, when it comes to the supernatural: so many bad Dreams. "I wonder what a ghost tree would say, if you could speak to it."

"Hello, salt water is bad for me?" Jules tries, but she knows it's a lame joke, and a little wrinkle of her nose accounts for it. "But yeah, creepy-cool. Like an optical illusion, where it just depends how you focus. Maybe I'll go back and poke around when there aren't any other people around." This is likely another Bad Idea, Jules moment.

She sets down her wine glass to try the first forkful of lasagne, making appreciative noises all the while. "Mmm. This is good. So how was your day?"

The corners of Una's mouth twitch up anyway. It's lame, but-- oh well.

"Maybe... don't go alone?" she prompts, after a moment's hesitation. "Just in case. Take someone. For backup."

She might be inclined to push that point further, but Jules is making appreciative noises, and Una needs to flush happily for it, and reach for her own fork. She's a little more circumspect in her evaluation of the meal, but she ultimately seems satisfied, giving a short, sharp nod before she says, "Oh, well. It was... I burnt a batch of cookies. I don't even know what happened. You know how it is, when your brain is all over the place?"

“Oh. Yeah,” Jules readily agrees after a momentary pause, like she’d forgotten entirely that such solo expeditions might not be wise. Scatterbrained indeed. “Of course I’ll take someone with me.” She looks rueful, brow drawing together as she considers her own misstep. “Yeah, I know how it is. I’m operating like that today too—I keep misplacing stuff, which is so not like me. So what’s on your mind?”

Una hesitates. There's a moment, of course, of relief: Jules is not going to do something stupid, good, yes. But beyond that— she draws her mouth together and lets her teeth rest upon her lower lip for a moment.

"I'm not sure," she admits. "Just... unsettled. Apprehensive, and I'm not even sure why, but it's like I'm waiting for something. I wonder, though, if it's just that I had a spate of so many Dreams and Doors and whatever, and things have been quiet, now, for ages. Two weeks, even? But equally, it might just be nerves. I have actual orders to fill."

“Hmm.” Jules chews on this over the course of several bites. “Funny how two weeks turns into such a long period of time,” she remarks, looking for the humor in it. That humor points to something rather more unsettling, though, and Jules herself doesn’t look entirely at ease as she contemplates it.

“It felt like something was on overdrive.” Her fork clicks against the plate, set there so she can take up her wine again. “I didn’t really feel it, when we were in the middle of it, but looking back—those Doors popping up daily, all the stuff with Haggleford and the kidnappings and the arms deals, all the other Dreams…it has gone quiet, hasn’t it? Except not like things settled down. More like it all abruptly snapped shut. Makes me wonder if there’s pressure building. Like the calm before the storm. Maybe that has something to do with why Mikaere felt like it was time now to go do his thing. Before the levees break.”

This is an exploration of the possibilities further than Una's gone thus far, and it gives her visible pause: her fork hovers over her plate while brown eyes study Jules in thoughtful silence. "You think he needed to go now, so that he'll be back, when it all happens," she concludes, very quietly. It's not a question.

"I mean, you're right about the rest. It's not quiet like... take a vacation quiet, everything's fine. Even when I pretend to myself that that's it. I'm just... I'm not sure. What it means. What it might mean."

Even so, her tone is more thoughtful than tense, as if she's largely accepted this for what it is— even if she doesn't necessarily like it.

“Now I have Led Zeppelin stuck in my head.” Jules tries to turn it light-hearted, but her gaze communicates otherwise. Too serious, and just a little troubled.

Of Mikaere, she just shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m probably just talking out of my ass about something I don’t know. I haven’t even lived here a full year, and here I go spouting off theories just because it doesn’t feel quite right to me. It’s not like I’m an expert on the weird. Still.”

Still.

Una makes a face that suggests she's not quite able to meet Jules' attempt at light-heartedness, though she does dig her fork back into her food, which suggests all is not lost.

"Still," she agrees. "I think we're both aware something is up, and that's not for nothing. I'm... inclined to be watchful, I suppose. It doesn't feel quite right, and I don't want to be caught out. Not..."

This time, she laughs, though it's not a particularly mirthful laugh. "I mean, really. It's not like any of us—your beau notwithstanding— are especially powerful or anything. What could we do, even if we did work anything out? But I still want to be prepared."

“My beau,” Jules repeats, bemused, like she’s trying out the word to see how it fits. It’s neither here nor there, though, as she continues on. “I don’t know—except maybe we’re more powerful than we think. I know the last time I was in a Dream, and I made stuff move, it was almost easy. Nothing particularly heavy,” and she’s not about to tell Una that both items were weapons of varying degrees, “but still. I just kinda flicked them, whoosh.” Her hand lifts to gesture in demonstration.

Una chews, taking the time to, perhaps, work through her own thoughts before she needs to actually say anything in response. She's watching Jules all the while, though, and her expression is undeniably thoughtful as she does.

"Six months ago," she says, finally, "I barely knew I could do anything. I mean— I could, and I knew I could, but not... like that. Like this. But I still don't believe we're as powerful as— I mean, you see so many of us, here in town, who can do incredible things, and I just don't believe I can. We can. But maybe I'm wrong? Ravn didn't believe for a long time, either," is thoughtful recollection.

“That I don’t know.” Jules takes another bite of her meal. Her hands are restless, though, and once the fork is down, she traces idle patterns on the tabletop. “Maybe other people have just lived with it longer. We’re all still muddling along and figuring it out, seeing how far it goes. Like dropping a penny in a well and waiting to see how long it takes to fall—except with that, there’s no danger that some troll is gonna crawl up unexpectedly and pull you down too. It must be nice to know.” It’s hard for Jules’ thoughts not to turn to Mikaere, on that note, off on his own adventure with the self-knowledge it entails. Maybe that’s why her last remark comes out slightly aggravated.

Quietly, "There's probably a lot we'll never know. And I bet... I bet it's not as straight-forward as it seems for anyone." Again, Una presses her lips together, her expression a mask of concern and discomfort.

"I'm not sure any of us really know anything."

“No,” Jules allows. “Probably not.”

It’s not a particularly reassuring note to pause and linger on, but linger it does.

Abruptly, Una laughs. A real laugh, this time, one that has her shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Look at us," she says. "Stressing so hard over things that may not even be happening. We should... I don't know, plan to do something fun or something, right? A night of ridiculousness."

This pulls a smile out of Jules. It may not fully meet her eyes—she’s tired, emotionally more so than physically—but there’s clear appreciation for Una’s suggestion nonetheless. “Good idea. Karaoke, or bowling, or miniature golf, maybe. Something just for fun. Even if it’s just a movie night with a big bowl of popcorn.”

"I'd like that," agrees Una, setting down her fork. She's not done, it's just... a pause, maybe. A pause for wine, and for considering Jules, and then, finally, for adding, "And if there's anything you need— I have this memory that isn't of telling someone that you and Della were like my sisters, and it's true, even if I don't know where the memory comes from. So."

Whatever she needs.

This draws a smile of a different sort. Jules doesn’t say anything, at least not right away. Instead, she reaches across the table, seeking Una’s hand for a quick squeeze.

“I am very, very glad the three of us met.”

Una lets her hand be taken; squeezes Jules' in return even. "Good," she says.