Disgrace, prt 3 [Nakia]

[Peter Parkman]

[OOC: Started on the 21-09-14]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Peter Parkman> The night was young and there were things that Peter had to do. Not least, call Nakia. The woman seemed impatient for him to contact her – and Peter knew he should have contacted her a week ago. After he’d had his discussions with Kallista and with Jersey, Nakia was one of the next ones on the list. But the week had been taken from him in a chaotic breeze of catching up; he’d neglected his businesses while ‘away’, and there was a pile of paperwork and hurdles to jump over in order to get everything back up to par again. Once he was dressed and presentable, he plucked his phone from his pocket and called the number that had been given to him by Jersey. He cleared his throat as he held the phone up to his ear – he wasn’t too sure what to expect with this meeting.
[Attire ]


<Nakia> “Shut up!”

The demand bounced off the walls of the apartment as the Shadow tugged at her hair. Her handler stared at her, eyes wide and face a mask of complete horror as her oldest friend and colleague paced the living room floor like a caged animal. “Nakia, you need to calm down. No one is coming for you. It was just a delivery.” Abigail’s voice was the lowest of whispers as she curled her fingers around her throat. The motion caused Nakia’s gaze to drop to the pulse beneath the surface of smooth skin. It wasn’t until she felt the uncomfortable pain in her gums that she realized what she was about to do.

Turning quickly, she scrubbed at her face with her hands. What was she supposed to say? Everything was on edge, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and paranoia. She’d have six threats this week alone, and yet they expected her to not be concerned? She wasn’t crazy. Before the conversation could go any further, she heard her phone ring, the basic tone giving her pause. Digging her cell from the pocket of her black jeans, she smirked when she saw the name. Just like that, a flip was switched, and the woman was back to normal, leaving her handler in complete shock. “How’s my favourite brother-in-law?” She chimed with a hint of laughter.

[Nakia]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--



<Peter Parkman> The tone caught Peter off guard. Chirpy, almost, the greeting as if the two of them had been friends forever. As if nothing untoward had ever happened between them. As if her words on the Crownet hadn’t recently been misunderstood as harsh toward Peter’s own childe – one whom he was protective of, now, given all that he had been through. He’d wanted them both to stop because he did not want to happen to Ivan what had happened to him. It took him a few seconds to come to grips, and to answer the question.

“I’m fine,” he said. A clichéd answer, really, but there was nothing much else to say. He wasn’t fantastic, but nor was he good. Fine would have to suffice. He cleared his throat again. “You ah… you gave me a day. So I’m calling you,” he said. And then realised how the sentence might come across and bowed his own head, forehead in the palm of his hand as he closed his eyes to focus. “I mean, you can come to my doorstep if you want to but I live out in the middle of nowhere,” he said. “I thought I’d call and organise to meet you somewhere more convenient,” he said, hastily.


<Nakia> Scraping her painted nails across her throat, she rolled her gaze to the ceiling. Hearing his voice sent memories through her, the apartment fading to the night of the attack. It was amusing, really, that he was hurt over the same transgressions that his childe was committing. How easy something as simple as a few words could cause the world to fall apart, especially if someone was as sensitive as Ivan had come across. She didn’t recall her words until the next morning, when her husband had woken her up to remove her laptop. When she read over them, she hadn’t regretted them. The stranger had taken them as he pleased, and honestly, she was beyond caring how anyone else took her actions.

She was a loner, always had been. Yet, she cared about Peter. Not because they were close, but because he was important to Jersey. Jersey, who reminded her so much of her half-sister it hurt sometimes. So, when he had muttered that ‘fine’, she frowned. She knew she had put him off with her tone, but that was what she did. The mask firmly in place, the walls around her like Fort Knox. She was secured. Grabbing her keys and jacket, she nodded towards Abigail and pointed to the door, signalling she was leaving as she laughed quietly. “Calm down, there’s no need to get your panties in a twist. Where do you want to meet?”



<Peter Parkman> One hand on his hip, Peter’s head tilted back as he gazed at the ceiling. He was perfectly calm, and his pants were just fine, and straight. But was he calm? He was silent for a few more seconds as he tried to figure it out. He’d always been a sort of calm person. Maybe it was the medication he’d been taking at the time. The medication that no longer worked. Maybe it had numbed his senses and calmness came easy. He tried to summon that calm now.

He could feel the weight of the tome in his pocket – even if the scroll of paper didn’t actually weigh much at all. It would take him to the attic of the Asylum. So that’s where he suggested first. “The Asylum?” he asked. He assumed that Nakia would know of the place – and that she would have access. “Or… somewhere in Honeymead. The library, maybe,” he said. He liked the library. The library was like a second home. He was comfortable at the library. It was where he’d chosen to meet Kallista, simply because, for no good reason, he assumed he was safe at the library.

[Nakia]

Abigail knew the moment her friend's blue eyes widened, that whatever was said on the other end of the line made her uncomfortable. She could see the panic flickering in and out of her gaze as she tried to collect herself, lips pressing into a thin line. Without thinking, the small woman quickly leaped from behind her desk and flew into the kitchen, fingers trembling as she instantly sought out a glass and filled it with water. When things like this happened, she felt completely useless. Who was the man on the other end? Why, when he called, did Nakia instantly change her act? It was like a switch had flicked in her brain. One moment, the woman had looked near ready to kill her, and the next she was back to her usual self.

"Here," she spoke quietly as she handed the glass over, fingers tapping against her jean clad thigh. She'd been so strange since she'd come to Harper Rock. She had known Nakia for years, she knew every intimate detail about her life, and yet there was something she was holding back. Something she didn't know - she was afraid she never would. With a resigned sigh, Abigail settled herself back behind her computer screen and went back to work, though she kept a wary, watchful eye on her agent.

The second the cool glass was pressed into her hand, Nakia curled her fingers around it. It wasn't the first time her handler had offered her food or water as comfort, so she had the act down pact. "The library? I... I'm not sure. That's kind of quiet, don't you think? I've never been to the Asylum," she admitted, lifting the glass to her lips - and under the ever watchful stare of Abigail - faked a sip. "I guess we can try there. Ten minutes?" It wouldn't take her long to finish gathering what she needed and head out the door. She was nervous about seeing the man, especially after what had happened. Paranoia had gotten the best of her, but she doubted he would understand. She knew what was coming. He was going to apologize, explain himself. It was the one thing that always made her uncomfortable. What was she going to say? That it was alright that he treated her family like utter ****? That they were even, because she nearly hacked him into tiny pieces? She didn't blame him. They all had issues, but she had no idea how to get through this.

For Jersey, however, she would try.

[Peter Parkman]

”Ten minutes,” Peter agreed.

He had no idea why the library should have been rejected because it was too quiet. By comparison, the Asylum was quieter still. There wasn’t much foot traffic. And they would be alone there. Peter stared at his phone. Why had he agreed to that? To being alone with someone who’d helped to put him into a coma? Regardless, he had agreed. So he pulled the tome from his pocket and read the inscription. It took him to the attic, and the comfort of the place enveloped him. He felt safe here, somehow. Why? He’d proven that one cannot be safe in one’s own home. He’d broken that particular expected etiquette himself. It wasn’t noble. It wasn’t respectable. He grimaced. He even groaned.

But he had agreed. And this was something that needed to be done. For the sake of closure; for Jersey’s sake. For all their sakes. So that all tension could be dismissed; so that no mistake could be made as to anyone’s intentions. So that any future re-occurrence of the past few weeks’ mishaps could be avoided.

Before stepping into the elevator, Peter took a deep breath and held it. There was no burn, but it was mind over matter. He counted to ten, before releasing his breath. He did this three times before he finally stepped into the small box that would take him down to the bottom floor; down there, he would wait for Nakia’s arrival.

At first he walked into the lounge area that he liked best, where there was already a pile of his books and a fire roaring in the grate. But then he wandered back out to the hallway, because … would she knock? Would he have to lead her in? How did this work? No, no, she would have to have access, so she’d just walk in, wouldn’t she?

So Peter walked back to the lounge, where he settled in his favourite corner of the couch. He picked up one of the books and flicked to the bookmarked page—but then he put it back down again. He looked at his watch. It had been exactly five minutes and fifty-three seconds since he had arrived at the Asylum. How did he know this? Because he had a habit of keeping an eye on the time even when he didn’t know what he was doing.

He huffed, and shoved his hands between his knees. And just waited.