2024-08-30: The Morning Before
- Cutscene: The Morning Before
- Cast: Calas Zelinn, Jovri Gand
- Where: December One, Zelinn home
- Date: August 30, 0099
- Summary: The fall of Junius Seven has made the news--but the depth of its horror is not yet obvious. Two people miss a third at a difficult time.
"...And in ongoing news, the wreckage of Junius Seven continues to move through Earth orbit on its anomalous trajectory. Sources suggest a meteor strike may have altered its path, but it is definitely heading for the Earth. To get an expert opinion on its movements, we go to.."
Calas Zelinn shifts her hand to the remote, pressing 'mute' and leaving the anchor on the screen to conduct her next interview in silence. It's morning, but neither she nor Jovri are at work. The kids are at school, with Tarol sleeping in the other room. The warmth of artificial daylight doesn't do much to improve the mood, nor to cover the glow of the television. Calas leaves the remote where it is, reaching a hand up into her long, brown hair to rest at her neck. "...It's ghoulish," she says after a moment, before she drops her hands into her lap.
Jovri, at the other end of the couch, looks from the screen to Calas and offers a wan smile. His green eyes have always been kind; that hasn't changed now that he's a little older than when she first met him. Still younger than her, of course. He's dressed for home office work he never got to doing, dress shirt and slacks freshly ironed--by Calas, naturally. His blue hair is messy, but it usually is, just long enough to hang over the upper part of his forehead.
"I'm sorry," Calas starts. "Were you watching?" She's dressed for the day too, though her red blouse is still part-unbuttoned from when she fed Tarol earlier. Curling her fingers against the soft fabric of her skirt, Calas lets her eyes trace back to Jovri at her question.
"No," he answers. "I think so, too. It's ghoulish. And it's kind of hard to watch like we don't already know it's not an accident."
"Right..." Calas sighs, leaning into the couch back and letting her head rest there. "Navras said as much. He's probably still arguing with the other representatives over what to do about it."
"Mm-hm," Jovri answers. He's also always been a pretty man; Calas finds a little envy twist into her stomach at how perfectly together he looks even on the couch watching TV. It's easy to let go, though; such things seem like trifles in the face of the news.
"I wish he'd come home," Calas says softly, and looks away. She can practically feel Jovri looking back at her, though.
"Me, too," he answers. "At a time like this, we should be together. I understand he's doing important work, but it just makes me think of how... fragile it can all be. I hate to think of him dealing with that alone."
"...Me, too." Calas answers him with the same thing, but it takes her a moment longer. "No, you don't really get the impression he's close to his colleagues, do you? Even if he spends so much time with them. And... I feel the same."
"Right," Jovri says. "He talks about the things he gets done, but more about who he's opposing than who he stands with. ...Well, that's not fair; sometimes he mentions it when someone helps out." The taller of the two--Jovri, by a fair margin--pauses, and then says, "...Too fragile."
They sit in silence for a while after that, the interview on the television ending and the anchor reappearing in the center of the screen. Calas doesn't bother to turn back on the volume, glancing at the screen to watch the headlines before she looks at Jovri again. "It's hard," she says. "To face that feeling alone."
"..." Jovri watches the screen too, but he's really looking through it more than at it, Calas thinks from the faraway look in his eyes. Eventually he looks back at her again. "It is," he agrees. "He's probably pretending it doesn't bother him. ...I wondered, at first, if you would too."
"You think?" Calas answers. "....About me, I mean."
"Sure. You're as stoic as he is. You take it all on yourself. ...I worry about that, sometimes. With him, I know that arguing it out with people at least makes him feel better. With you, I'm not sure what will."
"Jovri," Calas starts. "I..."
"...Guess that's not fair to drop on you at a time like this, is it?" Jovri asks. "I won't pry. But I liked it when we talked more."
"..." This time it's Calas's turn to be quiet for longer moments. She watches Jovri for a while more. Then, she reaches for the remote and turns the television 'off'. It blips out, the center of the screen a thin line before it's nothing at all. Calas stands up and closes the distance between them, taking her seat next to Jovri, leaning against his arm, her head dipping down to his shoulder. "Jovri.."
"...Mm?" he wonders, and Calas thinks she hears surprise in his voice. She can't see his face from this spot. "Calas?"
"You said you weren't sure what would make me feel better," Calas says. She curls toward him, placing her arm over his waist and lifting her head to look up at his face. After a moment, he meets her brown eyes.
"I did say that," Jovri says. "But I thought it would only trouble you."
"...It didn't," Calas answers. "Or at least," she continues, "...It won't." Her heartbeat sounds in her ears, soft and even. It's been like this much of the morning; worry and nerves have made her senses act on overdrive.
"Won't, huh?" Jovri answers. He pauses, and then he slides his arm around behind Calas's shoulders. "...That's good."
Calas closes her eyes and leans against Jovri. "Mm," she answers. "...Yes."
The morning light beats on. Tarol will sleep a while longer.