lost as fast as was found
Meggie sits in the back of the car, staring out the window. The car isn't familiar - she should probably be in a car seat but it's not like the social worker in the driver's seat has one for her - and neither is the scenery outside. But the situation is, almost to a point where it's comforting. Meggie is so, so used to being taken away from one
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As such, about to cross the street, she almost jumps out of her skin when something starts up an infernal wailing that seems to pierce through to her very bones. She drops and clamps her hands over her ears, trying to block the sound, but it's no use: it's everywhere, inside and outside and all around, and there's no dampening it, not even a little.
Colours swirling before her eyes, she takes a frantic glance around in an attempt to pinpoint its source, even though it sounds like it's coming from everywhere and nowhere. And then she sees her: a tiny child, scrunched into a ball in the street, screaming her eyes out. How can one child make so much sound? she thinks, not really able to believe that the girl in front of her is truly responsible for all of that.
But that's not important right now. There's a child. In the middle of the street. Any moment now, she's going to get hit by a car.
And even if the cars stop for her, she'll about kill Iris with the screaming.
Hands still clasped over her ears, she runs towards the child and around to her other side, shielding her from the direction of traffic with her body.
"Hey," she says, removing one hand to reach out and touch her. The sound is agonising, with or without her hands, and she feels like she's going to be sick. "Hey, please stop. It really hurts. Please. It's dangerous and we need to go."
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please stop it really hurts please
Meggie is hurting people who don't deserve to be hurt. She bites back the urge to start screaming again.
we need to go
They're in the middle of the street - how did they get in the middle of the street - where is the car that Meggie had been riding in? Where is the social worker?
Meggie lets out a loud sob and a high-pitched trilling sound hovers about them, threatening to elevate once more.
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She's curious as to what's going on here, but more importantly, she needs to distract the child. With her free hand, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, sparkling crystal: the ruby prism she's been working with, the eventual vessel for the Philosopher's Stone. She carries it with her when she goes out, so she can empower it as she walks. To a child, it's just a pretty trinket, but maybe it'll catch her attention.
She holds it up to the light, turning it this way and that, catching the sun's rays just right so that rainbows will dance across the little girl's skin. "Hey, pretty, isn't it? I can show you more pretty stuff, but we'd better come out of the street first," she says, glancing back at the waiting traffic with a wary eye. After being screamed at by this child, she's really not up to being screamed at by half of Chicago, as well.
With her other hand, she gently tugs at the girl's arm, encouraging her carefully onto her feet. "Come on, it's okay. Just a few steps." A few steps, and then they'll be safe.
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So she allows herself to be pulled onto the sidewalk. Yes, she's been properly distracted from what's going on around her for a few moments, tears still wet on her face but vanished from her eyes.
She hiccups a little, sniffling, and promptly makes grabby hands at the crystal dangling in front of her. She doesn't necessarily expect it to be handed to her. But she doesn't know if she likes this girl yet, and it's not like it would be the first time she screamed at someone until they gave her what she wanted.
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She starts a little, though, when the girl makes a grab for her crystal. "Ah, h-hey, hey," she says, pulling back a little. "Please be careful with that. It's very fragile." And if there's one thing she doesn't want - well, other than her eardrums perforated - it's a child running off across Chicago with her proto-Philosopher's Stone in her hands.
She hopes it doesn't have to be a choice between the two.
"I could make you something like this, though," she says, stooping down to the girl's level now that they're out of harm's way. She's genuine about that offer. It won't have the power of this stone, but a simple crystal itself wouldn't be hard. "At my workshop. I make things like this. Want to go?" She rummages in her pocket again and finds a clean handkerchief, and dabs the tears from the girl's face with a soft smile.
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She smiles at the suggestion of her own crystal, nodding. She would love her own. The promise of something so pretty is enough to buy Meggie's trust for now.
After a moment's hesitation she grabs the hand of the girl who's being so nice to her. She never held the hands of her "family" members. They were never comfortable enough around her to allow it.
"Where are we?" she asks. "I was going to Chicago to live with a new family but then something hit the car and I was falling..."
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Or she thinks she's going to, anyway. When the child says Where are we?, her heart goes cold.
Oh, no. Please, no. Tell me this child isn't....
Not a Wanderer.... Not so young....
She covers her reaction well, though. It won't do to show fear in front of the girl. It'll only make her panic all the more.
"We're still in Chicago, sweetie," she says, softly, leading her across the intersection by her hand. It's nice to be trusted, and she does smile genuinely at the girl's willingness to take her hand in hers. Besides, maybe if she was already expecting to be in Chicago, she just got in an accident. Maybe she's not a Wanderer, after all. But then, the other people in the car.... "I don't know where the other people you were with are, but we'll help you find them. I'll go to see someone who might know where to find them, and then we'll go and see my workshop, okay?"
And... after that, she doesn't know what. But it's a start. One foot in front of the other.
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She shakes her head, though, when the girl mentions the other people who had been with Meggie.
"The car broke and she disappeared, the woman who was bringing me to a new family, and then I was falling..."
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She listens to the girl's words, nodding her head in slow understanding. Disappeared. So she is a Wanderer....
"Well... well, if they disappeared, then I guess I'm the one bringing you to a new family, now," she says, with a small laugh that's cheerier than she feels. A new family. Right.
She goes over the people she knows in this city. Hermione, a girl around her age. Saul, a rat - a very nice rat, but still a rat - who lives in the sewers and alleys of Chicago. Rafe... she hasn't seen him in a while, and doesn't know how to find him, and he doesn't seem the type even if she did. Jim, a winged man... he's old enough, but would he want to rear a child? Maybe the angels.... She shakes her head a little. She'll find someone, somewhere in this city. She just doesn't know who.
There's still a soft melody surrounding them, no longer nearly as piercing, but definitely out of place amidst the dull drones of traffic and the thumping of stereo bass. "Hey, that sound," she says. "It's pretty. Is that you making that sound?"
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She looks hesitantly up at the question. Her power was always seen as something weird, something bad. But if she's not scared of it...
"I can make sounds," Meggie agrees. "I like to make music."
The tune grows in volume, turns into something more complicated - not many would recognize it for what it is, but it's the basic note pattern to the Sesame Street theme song. This was the first song Meggie taught herself how to mimic.
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She thinks it's clever, though, and says so. The girl isn't just making sounds, as if she were singing: she's calling the sounds, out of nowhere at all, and shifting and playing with them as she does so. "You... have a kind of magic," she says with a smile. "That's very special. You're really very lucky; I can't do that at all."
A few blocks down the street, and they're through the Kashtta's double doors and into the cool, dim lobby. Iris breathes another little sigh of relief, then, with a reassuring smile, leads Meggie up to the reception desk so she can start letting people know she's around.
"Excuse me," she says to the staffer on reception. "I found this child out in the street, her name is...." She realises she doesn't know, and looks down at Meggie. "I'm Iris. What's your name?" she asks, gently.
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"I was told other people like me live in Chicago. But I never met anybody else who was special."
Meggie's glad she's not being treated as dangerous for her power - yet.
"I'm Meggie Lila," she tells Iris. It sounds somewhat rehearsed, because it's not her birth name, just the only one she remembers.
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"Mm, that's right, there are plenty of people like you," she says. "They're all very nice." Well, maybe not all. "I'm a little bit special too, though not like you are. It's not something you can hear, like your pretty sounds. But I can see things and feel things that other people can't, so it's a little bit the same."
"Meggie Li~la," she repeats back to the girl. "That's such a musical name! It sounds like a song. It suits you." She turns back to the staffer. "...her name is Meggie Lila," she continues. "I think she's a Wanderer, and someone should really try and find someone who can care for her as soon as possible...."
Having filed her report, she figures she may as well take Meggie back to her workshop for a little while. Though before she does, she picks up a bit of notepaper from the reception desk, scrawls a message on it, and props it up in one of the potted plant tubs.
There's a young child here who seems to be a Wanderer. Needs someone to take care of her.
If you can help, please see Iris at room [number]. Thanks.
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She smiles up at Iris' compliments, swinging their joined hands a little. It's nice, having someone be nice to her.
Meggie will go along with Iris without complaint. She may be restless, but she'll behave. She's got the promise of a pretty crystal waiting for her.
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The older girl's room is like a fantasy wonderland. Or a very pretty Hallowe'en decoration, depending on how you look at it. There are books of magic scattered all about, dried herbs festooned from the ceiling, and jars of liquids on the shelf that glitter softly in the light. The mundane trappings of the room are hardly visible, buried as they are in Iris' various alchemical workings. And, needless to say, there's the cauldron, bubbling softly away in a fire pit in the centre of the room.
"Please be careful not to touch the fire, it'll hurt you." she says, clearing a path through her books so she can let the girl have a seat on her bed. If Meggie wants an example of how dangerous the fire is, it's right there in Iris' hands: the older girl's hands and arms are wreathed in scar tissue. "Just sit there, and watch for a moment."
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She even makes a special point to avoid the fire.
Meggie slips her pink sandals off and lets them sit on the floor next to the bed. She curls up, crossing her legs and resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. Hopefully she's about to see something exciting.
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