Sarah
◇ Six weeks of dead, undying, immortal silence.

□ Sitting in the third-floor rehearsal room with drumsticks pressed into the folds of her joggers, Margo dwelled on the past six or so weeks. She dwelled on it, on the flights, on nearly lighting her hotel room ablaze with a faulty European charge, on seeing her entire family gathered in one place again, commiserating and finally being honest with each other about what had happened. It hurt, in a way, knowing that Mary had effectively disowned herself and thus would never know she'd been vindicated of all the blame she'd internalized, and it hurt knowing that Holly's only contributions to the case were over the phone, twice a day. What had went wrong? Why had her siblings all handled the shared tumultuous upbringing in such a myriad of ways?

▪︎ Holly turned to the Bloods, Mary to religion... Ben to mango carts and screaming slurs at others online to vent frustrations. What a fucked up family the Abernathys were.

◇ So, she sat there, in the dim lights of the rehearsal room, rolling a cigarette by hand and tapping her foot expectantly alongside glances shot at the door. She was expecting company in the dojo tonight.
Eduardo
"Knock, knock." They said, the only sound of their arrival being the *Clack* Of their slight heels against wood floor. 

Uriel's pale face peeks out against the door frame, meeting her gaze with stormy eyes before fully stepping into the room. A moments pass, and they join Margo's side, long legs folding onto themselves. 

"You are back." They state, almost matter of fact. A small hum, and they pass their full thermos of tea over to Margo's side. 

Uriel doesn't know what to say. There was nothing to, with Margo— when she wanted to talk, she *Would*. Margo Killjoy had no reservations with speaking her mind, and Uriel had no problem with listening to her woes.
Sarah
◆ "Close the door, man."

□ Looking up, she welcomed in Uri with a meek request and a small smile; rarely seen by anyone other than Vi. Compared to their storm-battered eyes and poncho determined to protect them against it, she seemed resolute, yet oddly uncertain. Stone-faced; carved by Michaelangelo.

■ "Thanks, but... I brought my own tea. Magnolia, my beloved." She hummed, silently reminding herself to lift her stim-ridden bouncing leg from the kick pedal of the kit, mostly to keep things quiet and focused. "So you can keep yours. Things have been fucking *Hectic,* Man. You've seen me, up to my nostrils in evidence, trauma bearing... Dreadful Teams meeting with the prosecution. I dunno what kind of strings Ginny pulled, Uri... She's never wanted the wealth. Maybe she was just smart enough to stash some of Hiram's money away. God knows I did the same. I still have a car waiting for me in the garage back home, I think... An Audi. Beautiful old girl." She fondly continued, a certain longingness in the lilt of her voice, at times hesitant and forceful and proud. "But that's another story."

◆ "So, ask away. Nothing's off the table; stupid or not, I thought it's high time I filled you in on the past six weeks, because fuck sakes, they've been *Busy.*"
Eduardo
"Questions...? I don't know what I would ask that you would be comfortable sharing." 

At Margo's refusal of their tea, Uriel lets out a low, non-committal hum. Magnolia tea was her favorite, and the familiar scent brought back good memories— a soft smile at the realization that despite the hectic events as of late, some things stayed the same. 

"I suppose my first question... How are you doing?" 

It was the only question Uriel *Truly* Cared about— so long as their dear roommate was alright at the end of the day, the details of the case were unimportant. *So long as she was alright..*
Sarah
◆ "Just don't ask me about my dick." She chuckled. "And we'll be fine. Anyways, how have I been...?"

□ A low hum rumbled from her throat, brow furrowed in deep thought. She knew that Uri was non-judgmental, and she trusted them with their life, but what *Could* She say without potentially compromising the case, and the secrecy her family's lawyers had advised her to maintain? "Well, as you know, I went back home. Back to Brooklyn... I missed it, honestly. It's kind of a shitty place at times, but I missed all the food, the bodegas, my friends. I actually got to hang out with Omar and Anton for the first time since I got sent here, and..." A smile spread across her face. "I missed them. We spent a while catching up, we jammed for a while... We all got drunk together. Anton's so tall he doesn't even get fuckin' carded, man; tall privilege is real."

■ "But, it was more business than leisure. I didn't even know I was heading over until the Deans came to our room a few weeks back and asked for me to come with them. Next thing I know, I'm packing my shit and giving Vi a huge dossier on how to care for my sons. Kind of a whirlwind..." She paused for a second, suddenly cognizant that she'd veered off the original question's clearly defined path. 

◆ "But I've been okay, I guess. About as good as I can be, given the circumstances. It hurts having to... Y'know. Bare years of abuse to the prosecutors, but we all had to. Even Holly was allowed to attend the meetings, though she had a pretty hefty security detail making sure she didn't try to escape." She continued. "Anyways, every one of my siblings except Mary are a part of this, and that's just because she's basically fallen off the face of the earth. She found God and forgot where the fuck she came from." Her voice warbled mockingly. "I'm not even sure she knows I attempted to murder Hiram, or that we're now coming together as a family to put him behind bars, man. How about you, though? We... Haven't talked much the past couple of months."
Eduardo
Margo told the tale of her time at home, and for a brief moment, Uriel smiled. 

"Being back home for a bit must have been a nice reprieve from the madness of the Cradle. If you didn't have the court case dangling over your head, it would have felt like everything that happened here was some forgotten fantasy." 

*If she didn't have the court case over her head*, was the key word. They were happy she was able to taste a brief bit of life as normal, but... Was it worth it, given all the pain she's been through? 

"I am happy you were able to get a short taste of home while you were there. Omar and Anton sound like lovely people— perhaps I'll get to meet them, one day." A small, airy laugh at the thought. How hectic that would be. 

Uriel hummed, trying to picture Margo's various escapades in the city in their minds eye— it did not help they had no clue what New York City looked like, but they could almost picture her traipsing amongst skyscrapers. 

"Life for me has been nothing short of stable and calm," They smile, "Which is oddly uncharacteristic for someone like me. Then again, perhaps my idea of stable and calm might be a bit more hectic than everyone else's."
Sarah
◆ "It's more like replacing *Doing things a thousand times over and expecting different results* Madness for Lovecraftian madness." Margo chuckled in turn. "But honestly? I like the madness here. I like the madness back home too. Life's kinda boring without a little discord, hm?"

□ Weirdly philosophical for a gal who'd, not five minutes later, been engulfed with intro and retrospection about the past six weeks. Things had been absolutely hellish behind closed doors, a fact that she didn't let anyone in on. Maybe it was a vague wariness about breaching the terms of the lawyer contract, or maybe it was just that old male socialization that drove her to bottle her problems up; who knew? Continuing to roll, she exhaled sharply and briefly. "Honestly? I think Anton would dig your whole dreamweaving shtick. He's... Parahuman like me; can detach his soul from his body and walk around. He'd probably want to talk out-of-body experiences and obscure spirituality and stuff, like the pretentious bastard he is." 
-

◆ "But, shit, man, that's good. Who cares how that stacks up to the idea other people have of calm? It's all subjective. Some people thrive in chaos, and others cry when they get yelled at. It's all about how you feel deep down, I think." She casually spoke, sticking her tongue out afterwards and running it along the glue strip of her cigarette. The seam sealed, she propped it atop her right ear, simultaneously hidden and in plain view, a fact she addressed by letting some of her hair down. Tying a bun into the back of her hair, she bounced her leg softly. 

◆ "Anyways. The legal proceedings have been really rough on us. Lots of cigarettes, lots of permitted glasses of wine from Mom's collection; it's not healthy, but shit man, we're facing our demons down with this whole case. Ben doesn't drink, and Holly isn't allowed any, but... There's been some late night sessions over bottles of chardonnay between myself, Ginny, and Mom. It's... Kinda affirming, oddly enough, to be treated like just another of the women of my family, to be chatted to and around like another daughter. It's straight euphoria, and those moments made the hard work a little easier to bear, I'd say."
Eduardo
"Wait— you know other parahumans? *Outside* Of the Cradle?" Uriel sits up straight, momentarily caught off guard by the revelation. The concept of parahumans existing in the wild always seemed impossible to them— not only were the chances of being a parahuman astronomically small, but the chances of meeting *Another one*? Almost impossible, in their mind. 

And Margo... Did it. Casually. 

"Has he always been parahuman? Did you two get your powers at the same time?" They inch closer to Margo, eyes wide open in wonder. "The chances of that happening... I can't believe it." Their dumb-struck face only lasts a moment before they shake the expression off, remembering the rare Melancon foil of *Social cues*. 

"Ah... Drinking wine? Not healthy?" Uriel's white eyebrows furrow, and they gain a pensive look, their gloved hand cupping their chin in thought. A small laugh of amusement, and the crinkle of their eyes in crows feet looks strange on their otherwise marble face. 

"Well, clearly you're not *French.*"
Sarah
◆ "Yeah. Just Anton though; never met any others before I got shipped here." Margo calmly replied, well aware that Uri was blown away by this revelation that she'd known a parahuman *Before* The Cradle. "And he wasn't *Actually* Parahuman when we first met. It just... Popped out of the woodworks one day. He's never told us *How* He figured out his powers, or when he did, just that he knows about 'em, y'know?"

□ Casually speaking, she took a sip of her cup of tea before setting it back down on the snare drum of the kit she sat behind. It was nice to be back, talking about her home city and her friends in the same breaths she spat daggers at her father's image. It was oddly domestic, even; weren't they like an old married couple in some regards? She zipped that thought up rapidly. In its wake she looked up at Uri as they quipped about the lack of Frenchness in her blood, silently thanking God that she wasn't born that way yet betraying none of the slander back to her roommate.

▪︎ Instead she simply let out a soft chuckle. 

◆ "Guess you could say that. Us Americans... It's Natural Light instead of wine. Maybe whisky if you're feeling generous. God knows I... Never mind. *That* Would have been too grim a joke." She laughed. "Trauma things, I guess. But yeah, it was mostly the cigarettes. Wine's whatever, but... Mom smokes. I smoke. Ginny has this god-awful nicotine vape thing. It was crazy fucking smoky in the study; probably knocked a solid year off my life."

● "But, yeah. It was really nice to be back. Yet...? It's also nice to be back here as well. The Cradle really is a second home for me now, weirdly enough... But I guess after six or seven months in the same place you're due to feel a little at home, huh?"