JP (dunord) wrote in age_of_miracles, @ 2008-09-18 12:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | northstar |
Log: Northstar and Aurora
Who: Jean-Paul Beaubier and Jeanne-Marie Beaubier (NPC by KD who is rad)
When: Shortly after he left, around the 5th of September.
Where: Jean-Paul's apartment in Montreal, Quebec
What: Jean-Paul comes back to his apartment to find his sister there. She's ... redecorated, to say the least. He decides to get her some real help this time.
Jean-Paul arrived in Montreal later in the day. He hated flying in planes. It felt unnatural. He isn't particularly claustrophobic-- it was just the feeling of movement around him, a lack of control. His powers are very much a part of him, the only way to describe this feeling would be motion sickness. You really don't want to get Jean-Paul in a car, either. God forbid Kurt would have to teleport Jean-Paul anywhere. Last time that happened, Jean-Paul vomited a copious amount and swore Kurt to secrecy.
He owned an apartment in the city, despite spending most of his time in New York. He's rich, bitch. He can have more than one home. His sister, Jeanne-Marie had a key to it. He didn't expect her to actually be there. Before he even opened the door, he knew she was there. It wasn't a sixth sense, he wouldn't call it twin telepathy-- he just knew when she was near. He knew when she was hurt. He knew when she was sad.
Or maybe he just imagined it.
Either way, he was right then.
Jeanne-Marie had been at the school for a while. Or, rather, Aurora had been at the school for a while. Aurora did this, Aurora did that. Aurora took over. Jeanne-Marie had no control. She had no memory of what happened when Aurora was around. She'd wake up in a strange place. She'd wake up naked next to a strange man, or in clothes that she'd never dare wear. It was enough to drive anyone a little over the edge. As time went on, Aurora got more out of control and Jeanne-Marie got more repressed. She got paranoid. She was afraid of what was going on, what was happening to her body without her knowledge. She was afraid of herself, afraid of ending up places and getting lost.
She was there. Jean-Paul was more than right. She was there because it was a safe place. She was there and she'd locked herself in. Jeanne-Marie's key was on the floor in front of the apartment, under the doormat at Jean-Paul's feet before he came in. She'd closed the door, locked it up, and then broken the inside mechanisms that would allow her to unlock the thing by hand.
God only knew how long she'd been there.
Jean-Paul's doormat read GO AWAY. He thought it was funny. Jean-Paul looked down at it and smirked, then unlocked the door. He knew she was in there, but no use knocking on his own door. He called out to her once inside, "Hello?"
The windows were all boarded up. Slats of wood, nails, duct tape. Jeanne-Marie was sitting in the middle of Jean-Paul's living room, wearing his clothes. She looked up sharply when her twin entered, her hair tied back in a tight ponytail. "You're here." She sounded shocked.
Jean-Paul squinted in the dark, "Crisse, turn on a light." Bags were dumped to the floor and he crossed over to her. "That shirt makes me look incredibly gay, looks better on you."
Jeanne-Marie reached over, switched on the nearby lamp. "It's what's going on in America. You finally got some sense and came back." She looked drawn and thin and pale. It wasn't clear how long she'd been here.
"Oh, sure, whatever you say. How are you?" Jean-Paul pretended like nothing was going on. Always better to call the attention away from your crazy sister. He went down on one knee near her, pressed a kiss to her jawbone.
"Mm." Jeanne-Marie returned the kiss and her gaze drifted off. "I'm here now... Maintenant j'suis ici. So. Alors, pas mal." She wasn't bad. It didn't look terribly true. But Jean-Paul was safety and he was here, so he'd take care of her now. He'd keep track of her. But then the question was----was this what Jean-Paul supposed to do with himself forever, or was she better off finally in the hands of professionals who knew what they were doing?
"I locked the doors and I put covers on the windows so she would not take me anywhere." She lifted a frail hand and pointed. She continued the conversation in French, looking tired and smug. "I don't think she could get out. I couldn't get out."
She looked back over her shoulder toward the phone. "You have some phone messages, I didn't answer them... anyone calling you here doesn't know you were at that school."
Jean-Paul spoke to her in French, as it was easier and it sounded better to his ears. "She." Oh, that didn't sound good. That never sounded good. He ignored it for now. Though, how hard were boarded up windows to ignore?
"Telemarketers called? Have you eaten?" Jesus Christ he certainly hoped so.
"Today? No." Jeanne-Marie's eyes drifted back over her shoulder toward the kitchen. "You did not have very much food here."
Her statement bothered him deeply. Enough that his gaze quickly moved off of her, to anything else. Jean-Paul needed to feel in control, he hated this feeling. He wasn't in control of this situation, his sister was going insane and he has done a horrible job of protecting her.
"Then let's go out to eat. Right now, the most expensive place we can find. Or to an all you can eat buffet, we'll show them, won't we?" Crazy metabolism is like a parlor trick to Jean-Paul.
If Jean-Paul were to explore, he would have found the kitchen picked clean. There wasn't any food left, there were empty containers on the counter... all of which suggested that she'd been there for a very long time. Not a few days. More like a few months. "Go----go out." She sounded confused.
Jean-Paul moved his bags around, from the floor to the couch. Snuck a peek into the kitchen. Ah, further disturbed by that. "Oui! Out, get up."
"I don't---I don't..." Jeanne-Marie shook her head, shrinking into the couch. "I can't go out. I can't go out, she'll come out."
"Not while I'm with you. I'll keep her away." Jean-Paul held his hands out for her. This officially had become a Plan. To get her out of the house under the pretense of dinner... and instead, take her somewhere to help her. "Please," he begged, "I'm so hungry from the trip. I didn't eat that cardboard they serve on the plane..."
"She'll come out..." Jeanne-Marie grabbed his hands like she was desperately trying to get his attention. But then again. She was with him. Jean-Paul would help her. Even if she came out and Jeanne-Marie was lost. Jean-Paul would help her. He'd be there. She was safe with him.
It was enough to get her to stand.
He drew her close to his body, like they were about to dance. It was a hug, maybe he just wanted to smoosh her into him, keep her safe in the pit of his stomach. Become one person. "Sandwiches or pasta, my dear sister?"
Jeanne-Marie clung to him, swaying a little and resting her head on his shoulder. "Sandwiches... I think sandwiches would be good, I need some shoes, let me find some shoes." She pulled away from him reluctantly and went over to slip her feet into a pair of shoes. Thankfully, they were her own. She hadn't worn them in months and they pinched her toes. She fidgeted, frowned.
Jean-Paul reached out for her hands again. "You're beautiful, did I mention that yet?" She appeared pale and sickly. Still a goddess in his eyes.
Jeanne-Marie took his hands, lifting her chin. "Not yet," she said. "But don't." She was unbendingly modest. Straight-laced. It got even more extreme as time went on, the more Aurora became a separate personality.
"Too late." Ha. Jean-Paul led her to the door, as it was still slightly ajar. "Sandwiches. Then we're going to ... make sure she doesn't come back."
Jeanne-Marie laughed, shaking her head. "You think so."
"I know so. I always fix things, don't I?" Jean-Paul really hoped that she'd agree with him.
"To an extent," Jeanne-Marie said primly, her lips twitching like smiling wasn't acceptable. She was terrified of leaving the apartment. She was clinging for dear life, her arms wrapped around her brother's arm.
"I promise you, I'll fix this." Even if it meant putting her away. He hadn't done it yet because it seemed like the worst possible thing. Now it seemed to be the only option.
Jeanne-Marie leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I trust you."