[Invite] Geborgenheit

[Bjorn]

“Umbrella Academy it is,” he said.

As the narrator delved into the world of the show by explaining the provenance of the children who would become The Umbrella Academy, Bjorn checked out. He cast a brief side-glance in Caligrace’s direction before returning his gaze to the screen, attention wavering between the present and the uncategorised pile of thoughts at the back of his mind.

The facts were these:

Caligrace was an allurist, inexorably affected by the world around her and prone to becoming overwhelmed because of it. She wore her bleeding heart on her sleeve, strived to retain her humanity and took far too much responsibility for things that were entirely out of her control.

Bjorn had come to understand a fair bit about her, if not from his conversations with Caligrace then from his chats about her with Every. He’d understood her reasons for siring Hudson, was aware of the personal history that contextualised and justified her choice; he had taken what he’d learned from that and stored it into the file titled Caligrace, another collectable piece for the puzzle that she was to him.

However, this newest piece of information didn’t match the existing set.

Caligrace was a smart business woman, he’d never questioned it, but Noah sounded like a bad investment that could have been avoided.

Fucked up was an understatement.

Then again, a little voice cautioned him. Bjorn’s nostrils flared, his frustration overriding his apnoeic setting. He reached into the ether to appraise Caligrace’s newest childe, finding an injured allurist on the other end. He found that the Norgard line extended beyond that singular point and made a point to withdraw before his curiosity wore him out.

There really remained only one question to ask, which, heedless of the activity on screen he gave voice to.

“Did he learn his lesson?”

Because, really, that’s what it came down to, didn’t it?

[Caligrace]

Though he had spoken to solidify their choice for the rest of the evening, she hadn’t heard him. She heard the deep tenor of his voice, felt the subtle shift in the air as the narrator began to speak, but the words - and the show - were a blur to her. Instead, her mind was focused on what she had done, what she had caused, and how she could fix it, if it was something that could be fixed. It was more than upsetting the man at her side, the man she had grown to care for in far more ways than just a faction mate and friend. It was the whole. I had wanted to save them, kept weighing heavily on her tongue, but now, as she replayed the events of the past few days in her mind, she was beginning to wonder if she had doomed them, instead.

A frustrated breath left her, and she shifted on the couch, tugging her legs up against her chest. Her arms came around her knees, her mug comfortably placed between her palms. Her thumbnail traced the edge slowly, her gaze unfocused and distant. She wanted to ask him what was on his mind, to really delve into the thoughts that he always held hidden behind his eyes. He was still an enigma to her, and the closer they got, the more she realized that she could spend eternity at his side and probably never fully understand the depths of his soul. In this particular instance, she could only assume his thoughts on the matter would hurt her, but she wanted to hear them, nonetheless. He had helped her so many times by painting the world in a different light, one that she could understand with the more logical part of her brain.

Give him time.

Shaking her head, she pulled herself from her reverie in time to hear him speak again, and this time, she chuckled. The usual mirth was lost from it, and she lifted her shoulder in a shrug, small form shifting once more on the couch as she turned to face him, tucking herself into the corner as she continued that slow trace of the mug’s rim. “I believe so, but I won’t know for sure until he’s coherent,” she admitted, glancing from the screen and back to him, before taking another sip from her drink, realizing it’d cooled.

[Bjorn]

The facts were these:

Bjorn had been sired. His memory of the night itself was lost to him. Retracing his steps only ever led him up to the same point in time: the night he’d met Elliot behind Lancaster’s. He still couldn’t determine how many months into his vampirism he’d been at the time. In the years since he’d tried to find his way from that alleyway to whatever hole he’d crawled out of in hopes of tracing a path directly to his origins, but the scent had long dissipated. The only memories that distinguished themselves from the haze before meeting Elliot were the faces of those who’d attacked him. Eva. Liliana. Trinidad. Requiem.

The telepath had outgrown his need to confront those who’d kicked him when he’d been down. He had come to understand that he’d violated masquerade laws that no one but Elliot had deemed important to bring to his attention. Bjorn held no grudge against his attackers; he held nothing for them other than a prime piece of real estate at the back of his mind, a permanent reminder should they ever cross him or his again to deny them a first warning. Upon regaining control of himself under Elliot’s wing he’d vowed to do better, to never forget that every action had consequences and to remember that even the smallest faux-pas could spawn extensive ripples.

Experience had moulded him into who he was today, and it was acknowledging the hard work it’d taken to become who he was this very morning that mollified him in the face of Caligrace’s thoughtlessness. However, he couldn’t relinquish all of his annoyance, so he bundled it up into a heated little ball and shaped his lips around it.

“He better.”

The threat was clear.

Glancing towards Caligrace, he made no effort to soften the steel in his voice as he added:

“Noah has too many dependants to start courting paladins. He told you he wanted to protect his family but putting himself on Ephraim’s radar is no different than gift-wrapping his kids to a slaughterhouse. I haven’t appraised any of them but I doubt—” Bjorn huffed before taking another breath to continue— “Strength in numbers means jack **** if they’re all sheep. Is recklessness a family trait? Have you met any of them?”

[Caligrace]

When he spoke, those words falling from his tongue with a harshness she wasn’t accustomed to, it took everything in her not to flinch -- and she failed. It was a subtle shift in her expression, but had his focus been on her, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have noticed. Tightening her hand on her mug, she clutched it tighter to her chest, the warmth seeped from the contents and the ceramic alike, but still offering her a comfort nothing else was. It kept her hands busy and out of her hair. It stalled her fingers from scraping at the dried blood. It stopped her from reaching for him, to place her hand on his bicep, and try to calm him. Not with her powers, but her touch alone. She wanted to do something - anything - to make him understand, to see, that she had thought she was doing what was best -- but more than that, she wanted him to know that she was sorry. Sorry for making him think of her differently. Sorry for angering him. Sorry for… everything.

****, girl, what have you done?

Clearing her throat, she shook the thought from her mind and ignored the spirit that began to flicker in and out of view near the television, his pale face twisted with a wry amusement. Thankfully, he disappeared as quick as he had come, allowing her to keep her attention on the situation at hand. “I agree. I told him as much, as well. I told him to back down -- he didn’t listen.” There it was, another check in the Caligrace has fucked up box, she was certain. “I tried. I could have been a little more demanding, maybe. This is new to me. Hudson was so easy, granted, he’s never around,” she laughed, the sound holding a sadness she tried not to dwell on as she shrugged. “I’ve met them, yes. They’re far smarter than their father. Eloise is pure blood, and while she’s sweet, she listens. She tries to learn. All of them do. Some of them have ran into trouble already, but came to us directly because they didn’t know, and listened as we helped them. As a family, I think… I think they’ll be okay. It’s Noah that will be the problem.”

Ignoring a curl that fell loose over her eyes, she offered him a soft smile and traced her thumbnail over the rim of her mug. “If that helps any.”

[Bjorn]

Bjorn wasn’t surprised to hear that Noah hadn’t listened to her; after all, Caligrace had set a precedent when she played into his hand. If her words held true about the others however then there at least was a silver lining.

And yet—

His gaze flickered down to her mouth, but he turned his attention back to the television instead of returning her smile. He stared blankly at the screen, slow to process the information.

Bjorn liked Caligrace, a lot, but he wasn’t prone to platitudes. Despite the time spent with both Berlion and Varhexen he lacked the intuitiveness of an allurist, that je ne sais quoi that oiled their silver tongue. He was far too weary to piece together some lacklustre reassurance that, if she truly could sense his emotions, wouldn’t pass muster anyway. And yet—

“I’ll talk to Every tonight,” he told the television. He didn't elaborate, doubting this would surprise either woman. Bjorn and Caligrace had crossed paths long before Every introduced them, but he’d only developed a strong familial bond with one of them. He liked Caligrace, a lot, but he trusted Every above all, including himself in moments of doubt, and this was definitely a moment of doubt.

“Look, I’m not, like, pissed at you, yeah? I’m just—” he paused. Was there a word that could encompass the emotional static he felt without giving his feelings away? If it were anyone other than Caligrace he’d be having a slightly easier time processing all of this… Slightly.

Bjorn sighed, dropping his head back onto the couch and staring at the ceiling.

“—Tired”

He closed his eyes, if only to shut off one of his senses and give his reeling mind a break. He rearranged his long legs across the coffee table and crossed his arms, hands tucked closed to his bruised ribs. They'd feel better later. Everything would be better later.

“Later, yeah? If you want. Was gonna ask you about something but can't remember what. We can talk later - tonight, if you want. I'll talk to Every tonight. We'll talk.”

[Caligrace]

If it had been another situation - another person - she might have felt insulted that instead of opting to listen to her, he wanted to go to someone else. However, that someone else was Every, and so instead, she smiled before shifting in her seat. Her legs uncurled, and she scooted just far enough forward that her feet could reach the floor. The mug was still held comfortably in her hands, but she knew she wasn’t going to drink any of it. It had gone too cold, the taste as unsettling as the knots that had twisted in her stomach during their conversation.

“I hope she’s a help to you with this,” she whispered, the truth of her words as clear as crystal in her eyes as she glanced towards him. It wasn’t for her that she wished this. It was for him. She knew his mind worked on a different wavelength than hers, that he processed things in a way that sometimes didn’t make sense to her, but it was one of the thousand little things that she adored about him. She wanted him to find what he needed, and if anyone could help him process the changes she had brought on all of them, it was Every.

After all, the shadow had saved her own sanity time and time again.

“I’d understand if you were pissed, but don’t worry about it right now. Later is fine, handsome, really. Just get some rest. I’ll be around.”

Freeing one her hands, she ran her fingers through her hair and let silence drift between them for a few moments as he got situated. It was clear he was tired. She didn’t need her empathy to see that. It was written on his face, in the way he rested back, arms held around himself, and though he hadn’t kicked her out - this was one time where she felt… uncertain. Normally, she would stay on the couch, curl up and watch whatever was on until she grew restless enough to go about her day while he slept. Knowing she was prone to overthinking situations, she pushed the doubt from her mind - she’d stay, unless he told her otherwise. With a quiet hum of a new song that had been replaying in her head, she pushed herself from her seat and made her way to the kitchen so she could clean out the mug.

[Bjorn]

Across the flickering canvas of his eyelids Bjorn cast his thoughts and began to sort them into makeshift categories, if only to find them in some semblance of order when he awoke. Later, once he’d given his mind and body the rest it required, the telepath would be better equipped to deal with this new reality of theirs.

Theirs, yes.

In the evening he would reach out to Every to address the matter at hand in his habitual manner: a directness he wasn’t capable of in Caligrace’s presence. In the evening, once rested, he’d do a full inventory check and make sense of this tangled web, approach the matter with concrete facts and divorced from his feelings about it. Forward-thinking. Solution-driven. After all, the only way out of the forest was through it and survival was a team sport.

“Later,” he repeated to himself, exhaling the last of his air.