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Coruscant Noir
Part 2: Mama's Concern
Written by Sailor Fere
Let it never be said that Eriks never tried.
He had started on day one, and now, one short month later, he was still at it with a conviction as strong as ever. As long as he had a choice, he would never stop trying.
If only the person he did this for wasn't so... trying. Not that Eriks was complaining, of course. He knew fully well that an adolescent with such a strange and turbulent life couldn't be expected to make miraculous social and attitude changes overnight. The important thing was to be a source of desperately needed support and constancy; then and only then would trust bloom.
Still, it was a little difficult to keep all of that in mind when loud, pained screeching woke you up at an hour that could only be described as indecent. He had flung himself out of bed in a panic, nearly tripping on his sheets three times as he scrambled out of his bedroom. He had pounded on her door desperately while screaming the name of his concern, but the only answer to his pleas was more shrieking. He did everything in his power to get through the locked door, but it remained impenetrable.
It wasn't long before the screaming stopped, a foreboding silence assuming its place. He had continued to pound against the door, but as before, nothing came forward to alleviate his fear.
When his fist began to ache, he leaned back from the door, panting loudly. After a moment to catch his breath, he dashed away from the door. He returned a few short minutes later, holding a pen and a sheet of paper in one hand and pulling a chair behind him with the other. He positioned the chair directly in front of the door, sat heavily upon it, and began to scribble plans for a daring break-in.
That had been almost four hours ago. Every square inch of the paper had been covered in increasingly confused and poorly considered plans, of which a majority were crossed out or linked to notes containing unfortunate practicalities like "Where to get two pounds of explosives at this hour? (Shops closed?)"
He was just writing "WORST IDEA" over a plan that required Chapel's presence when he heard a slight hiss nearby. It took a moment for his dazed head to register that the sound he heard meant that Lega's door had finally slid open.
The absolute millisecond that information was processed, Eriks' brows were furrowed in frustration and The Lecture was on his lips before he even had a chance to raise his head to look at her. With all the familial bluster he could muster, he said, "Do you have any idea how worried I wa-"
His head lifted and he finally had a good look at Lega. It seemed she had spent the last four hours going through her closet in order to create the classiest outfit she could. Unfortunately, her wardrobe tended to hail from the "As Is" discount bin of donation stores, so said class was entirely relative. A cream-colored button-down with only the two top buttons missing was haphazardly tucked into a pair of slightly oversized brown trousers. A large, dark coat with the collars turned up hung from her bony shoulders like a cape. At first there did not seem to be anything wrong with the coat, but the closer you got to it the more oppressive its wholly unique mystery smell became. Finally, the frayed knot that tied the look together was an old hat perched atop her head. Its brim was pulled down low, effectively hiding Lega's eyes from view.
"Am," Eriks corrected.
"Didn't mean to keep you up," Lega muttered.
"I think you might be getting sick, Lega," he said in a calm, gentle tone. He had a suspicion about the root cause of this peculiar turn of events, and it was important to remain as mild as possible if he was right. "It's very important that you tell me the last time you remember falling asleep, not just losing chunks of time."
Lega did not answer, nor did she give any real indication that she had heard Eriks' words. Instead she simply looked down at the palm of her hand for a moment before she slowly curled it into a fist.
Eriks felt his stomach turn to lead. Lega had never gotten violent during her previous episodes, but this was so different from the usual mild sensory scrambling she experienced when she suffered sleep deprivation. At least then she was more or less lucid, excusing the occasional grumbled complaint that "the air tastes noisy". This was a far more serious matter.
"Gonna be gone for a while," Lega finally said. "Don't know when I'll be back. Important business."
That confirmed Eriks' worst suspicions. In her sleeplessness, Lega had gone so deep into chaos that she had found an order. "Lega, it would be a bad idea for you to leave right now. You need to tell me the last time you slept. As I said, you could be ill," he stated. He tried to keep his calm demeanor, but the concept of Lega venturing out in this clearly addled state injected a dose of desperation into his voice.
Lega stood still for a moment before she simply side-stepped Eriks' chair with surprising agility and dashed towards the apartment door. Immediately Eriks was on his feet, knocking his chair back with the force of the unexpected movement. He tore off after her, shouting, "Lega Toblue! You come back here this instant!"
He was half a second too late. Lega reached the door and flung herself out onto the street just as Eriks made a grab for her coat. He successfully grabbed a single loose thread, which snapped off from its garment without slowing Lega's escape in the least. Eriks stood in the doorway, face contorted in an unpleasant mixture of irritation and worry, cursing his inability to follow. He watched as she darted down an alley, and listened to the rapid cadence of her shoes against the street until he heard no more.
He realized fully that the sentence that came spilling from his lips was probably the single most futile thing he had ever said, but the way it echoed off of the surrounding buildings gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. It was as if a small army of Erikses had joined together in the middle of the night to bring all of Coruscant a vital piece of news:
"YOU ARE GROUNDED, YOUNG LADY!"