Owner	Pose
Nicolai Codona	It's rare to not find Nicolai downstairs during the daytime hours. Rare but not unheard of, particularly when he spent the entire morning rearranging closets and pantries and the backroom to make more room for expected incoming deliveries. All that required a shower before his day continued.     Which is why the receptionist downstairs sent Phoebe up in the elevator to the top floor of the building. It's also why those dark curls of his are still damp and clinging to his face here and there when the elevator doors open straight into his loft. He's dressed at least, even wearing a shirt, although it's not much of one.     A white 'beater' and a pair of olive green cargos make up his wardrobe for the moment. He's sitting on a stool, that Stradivarius tucked under his chin. The sounds he pulls from *that* would make the angels weep, they truly would.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe had been directed up by the receptionist. She was... to be truthful, pretty rough looking. She looks tired, even if her face didn't show it, her eyes were tired. Just worn out, wearing a Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt, with the prism breaking into a rainbow of light. Her hair was just pulled back into a messy bun. Her hands were still slightly bruised. She showered the night before, and showered again in the morning, she smelled of pepper and roses, and was wearing just a pair of flipflops. She hadn't biked over -- she still had to go to the MET and pick hers up again.     She rode the elevator up quietly. She was about to knock on the door, hearing the music... and she pauses. She draws her hand down a moment, and considers if she did want to disturb him.
Nicolai Codona	Jokes on her, there's no knocking to be had. Those elevator doors just slide open when it reaches the top designated floor. She gets a moment to stand and watch however. It's not that Nicolai doesn't notice the doors opening, he certainly does, but the piece isn't finished yet.     It's not something familiar because it's his own composition. It's dark, that bit of music, like a moonless sky and death, but with small pinpricks of light threatening to burst through it all. ...by the time he does finish, it has and the music is uplifting and joyous.     He lowers the violin and offers Phoebe a wide grin that has dimples showing in both cheeks despite the scruff there. "Heya, sorry about that, been working on the ending for weeks and it finally just came to me." He stands and settles the violin back into its proper place before, "You okay?" Mostly rhetorical that, he can clearly see she's not.
Phoebe Beacon	Jokes on her. She lowers her hand a moment, and definitely just looks awkward, looking like she just rolled out of bed, and walking into a penthouse, listening to a lonely stretch of music that makes her being ache. She purses her lips, and draws her hands down to her side, her shoulders limping a little as she looks Nicolai up and down as he plays, and almost retreats.     But she's tired. She's tired of being the one that bleeds for others. Tired of being chased away, of giving up. Tired of not being the one who can just touch others. As he finishes the piece, she looks down at her left hand, turning over her wrist and looking at the intricate circle there.     She turned her dark gaze back up to Nicolai, her eye-rims riddened and watery as she swallowed the lump in her throat.     "... I couldn't see it through," she replies quietly.     She was tired of not being able to cry. Her whole body shuddered as she brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes closing as tears made their way down her cheeks.
Nicolai Codona	Nicolai covers the distance between himself and Phoebe in a few quick steps. His arms go around her with no heed at all to the previous attempt and its results. All that doesn't even cross his mind. It's not in his makeup to not pull her into an embrace. It would seriously cause *him* pain to not do so.     He just stands there for a long few moments if she doesn't shove him away. He may even press a kiss to the top her head, chaste and comforting that. After a bit he murmurs, "If you learned from it, you saw it through to the point you were supposed to." It's something he believes completely; not every journey is meant to succeed and failure is never a personal thing, it's a bump in the road and a lesson learned.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe doesn't pull away. She doesn't push away either. Nicolai's permitted to hug her, her fingers curling against her mouth and her cheek as she just breaks down. Every nerve on her body was on fire in something akin to grief. Her head tilts forward slightly as she just openly cries against him, cheeks warm and ears darkened with embarrassment over her own actions, split on a narrow path of either pulling away or trying to just findsome sort of stillness. Her side ached. Her head was still spinning, not that Nicolai holding her wasn't helping.     "I couldn't see it through, it was too much for me. I couldn't--" she breathes out, giving hiccupping little breaths as finally she gives in, and leans against Nix. That itself is an act of reckless abandon -- and trust.
Nicolai Codona	Nicolai just pulls her closer and holds on for as long as is needed. As far as guys go, he's not imposing, he's actually on the much smaller side of average. It doesn't mean he can't wrap a person up in a hug that makes them feel safe from all the world. He's had practice.     After enough time's past, he says, "Pheobe, trying and not succeeding? That isn't failure. Especially when you're up against the limits of what you're capable and still trying to push past them. Failure comes when you let the whole mess eat you up and turn you inside out and make you afraid to try again." His tone's gentle but firm. "It's up to you to decide how it shapes you."
Phoebe Beacon	"Not when you know that you're over your head. Not when you know that you're /drowning/. Nic -- I was at the Met. I went through the Gate. I was in the UNderworld and had to watch someone slice a /heart/ out and weigh it on the scale of Ma'at." she draws her gaze up. "I took a train and I had to pay in a hope and then there were all these buildings and glass and then something ripped through my armor and then I just..." she trembles, shaking, her stomach giving an uncomfortable churn at the memory. "I had to be pulled out, messed up, knives in my side.. digging... I can still feel them." she whispers. "... it doesn't stop taking. It will never stop taking."
Nicolai Codona	Rather than just stand there in front of the elevator, Nicolai leads Phoebe to the sofa without ever really letting go. He's just there, a constant presence until they get to where he needs them to be and then he's *still* there.     "It sounds awful," he murmurs once they're settled, her still all wrapped up in a hug.     "We all do it though, overestimate what we can and can't handle, do things we likely know we shouldn't because it feels like we still should. You're alive, you're here, safe and now you just have to search it for what you can walk away from it with that isn't bad. There's always something if you look hard enough. It doesn't take away the bad, but it makes the bad a little easier to set down for a little bit. Eventually, and it may be a very long time, but eventually you may set it down and forget to pick it back up again."
Phoebe Beacon	"No, no, no..." Phoebe whispers as she's steered towards the couch, and he eases her down. Her shaking legs don't protest.     "No, it just takes. It keeps taking. My past. My dad. My home. My /future/. Mickey was right. I exist to be /used/. No Titan showed up to stop me from walking into Death. None of the League. No one stopped me, and I went like an /idiot/ because I have this childish, stupid fantasy that everything will be okay. The biggest... stupid... fucking... lie. And I was less than useless. I put everyone else in danger. I wrecked part of the underworld because I was so scared of him being angry at me because I did something stupid, again. As always. And needed to be bailed out." she pulls back a moment, and wipes accross her eyes. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I don't know why I came here.. I just... I just needed someone that... I could touch and wouldn't /hurt/."
Nicolai Codona	"Stop," Nicolai states simply but gently. He pulls back just enough to reache out and snag her wrists to pull her hands from her face, from her eyes. "First, it's okay to cry. Second, you can always, *always* come here. Third, it's not childish to hope. It's not stupid to want everything to be okay so badly that you believe it will be."     He lets go of one wrist to reach up and brush her cheek with the pad of his thumb, trace the dampness left by tears. "...and if you feel you're being *used*, then it's time to cut those people out, Phoebe. *You* control that part, every bit of it. You don't exist to be used if you don't *let* yourself be used."
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe looks up at Nicolai, tears keeping to her dark cheeks, embarrased and ashamed and spiraling in anger and self-loathing, and she takes a deep breath. She curls her fingers down against the hand that still holds her wrist. She gives a shakey breath.     Her arms wrap around herself, like armor. Crossing over her chest, her knuckles squeezing so tightly. She sniffles, and just tilts her head down and closes her eyes.     "Tell me something good, Nicolai." she pleads.
Nicolai Codona	"You want generic good or specific to you good? I can easily do both. Generic good? I got little Lindsey into an amazing private school and it's close enough for her to commute every day. She's been really struggling but when they tested her for grade level for entry, she tested higher than her age group."     Nicolai leans back on the sofa and reaches out to pull Phoebe back with him, inviting her to just lay her head on his shoulder. "You're strong, compassionate, passionate, not afraid to take on the hard stuff, you aren't afraid of me after finding out that I'm... touching death every day. Your nose wrinkles just so when you're trying to figure something out, be it a puzzle in something you've been told or weighing whether or not you're going to dance with the weird Romanian dude. You live for others, not yourself, but you need to learn that you can't do the latter without doing the former."
Phoebe Beacon	"Good for Lindsey. I knew she was smart. Kid's got wisdom beyond her years." Phoebe states. That did make her feel a bit better. Someone had a triumph. "If they make fun of her... I'll.. I dunno. Make scary grumpy faces at them. Public highschool ruffians are scary to private school kids." she murmurs quietly, trying to force some humour out of herself as he leans back, and her head leans against his shoulder. She was expecting good news about donations maybe, business dealings. Stuff in the financials papers, that's what rich people care about right?     And she blinks when he starts complimenting her, and grumples "Weird /shirtless/ Romanian dude." at him, and then goes quiet for a moment.     "... Cass was standoffish because I was scared. Of you. Healing people is easy. If I do it a lot? I can get tastes in my mouth. Or hankerings for foods sometimes. I've never been able to touch someone and bring them back from somewhere like I can you." she states. Her head throbs. "I can heal people, but I can't tell people that I love them, because I know I'll hurt them. I should be on the other side, so many times over. Stabbings, collapsed lungs, beat-downs... run-overs. Shootings. So many bullet wounds... Gotham's a bit of a pit." she frowns, and closes her eyes.     "Why would anyone be afraid to touch you? You're like... some fantasy prince. You even play violin. Stratusdodgeus. Your eyes light up when you get ideas, your lips curl up and your smile always reaches your eyes. You probably have stables full of horses and motorcycles, or motorcycle horses or something. You could do anything with your life, but you choose to send kids to school, to find opportunities to help. You must have the stupidest, biggest heart."
Nicolai Codona	"Place is pretty inclusive, about half mutant half not... Small staff. I think she'll thrive there," Nicolai assures to the first.     "I get being protective of a friend, but I was also raised to not back down in a situation like that. Expecially with someone that might be my better physically. Backing down can be dangerous sometimes."     He falls silent for a long time after her assessment of him, not sure what to say about any of it because, "I've never wanted to do anything else. What goods any of it if I can't make a difference with it? ...there are a *lot* of people that are afraid to touch me when they find out. Even some in the mutant community. People fear death and the things I can do makes it all too real for them. I don't blame them, I get it. But it's nice when someone isn't afraid."
Phoebe Beacon	The girl in his arms has at least stopped crying. Phoebe is warm and alive, if shaking. Her breath evens out, her right side gives another tremble as her powers catch up with her. The bruising on her hands fade slightly.      "... I'm not afraid of death." Phoebe states quietly. "I've lived my life around it, all my life I've been surrounded by it. I've tried to escape using it." she replies, and she reaches up, and her fingers brush against Nicolai's hand.     "I'm not afraid of death." she repeats, "I'm terrified of trying to live so many half-lives with all these bullshit restrictions."
Nicolai Codona	... by contrast, Nicolai is actually cool to the touch, more so than a person should be. Not the iciness of actual death, but there isn't much warmth to be found there outside the heart of him.     "Pick a direction, darling. Stick with it. You can't be excellent at any one thing while you're trying to be everything at every turn."     When she brushes his hand, he steals the opportunity to take hers in his own. "It's good to not fear death, but it's an entirely different thing to run headlong toward it *all the time*, without thought or care of it. It's a natural thing, but it's a final thing that doesn't need to be hurried along, it comes soon enough to all of us."
Phoebe Beacon	"... I can't pick one. They're all intertwined. The Outsiders. The Amazons. The Occult. All because..." she trails off, and then shakes her head, and turns her face, her forehead pressing to Nix's shoulder.     "... because I need to be able to protect people. Sometimes even from myself." she frowns, and then just keeps her head against Nix's shoulder.     "... you smell good."
Nicolai Codona	"You have to, you have to master one before the other. If you don't, Phoebe, you'll keep putting others in danger." Nicolai's words may be a little harsh, but his voice is soft and gentle.     That would be Paco Rabanne 1 million, it would... and earth and incense. Man has to have at least a few guilty pleasures, right?     When it first starts, it's just humming softly. When he starts to sing softly, the words are Romanian, soft and sweet and as warm as his heart, comforting like the most plush, silky blanket ever thought to be. Damn, but he has a *voice* on him, just like an angel truly. ... even if he his more an angel of Death than anything else, even more so than he's yet aware.     Sometimes, the talking needs to stop, the reason for it set down in favor of something simple and soft.
Phoebe Beacon	Phoebe can understand having a guilty pleasure or two. Her roommate might have caught her singing 80's pop into a hairbrush before she realized she had an audience, and poofed into her her room quick as her feet would allow.     She listens to the humming, hearing the words but not understanding them. She leans a little more bodily against him, her eyes closed as she lets her breathing even. Her fingers stay against his hand, feeling the cool skin against her warmth.     "... I can't..." she protests, though what she's protesting may remain a mystery. "I have to get my bike."
Nicolai Codona	"It'll keep," Nicolai assures, just a little break in his song before he's back to it. The thing about good, sweet, soothing music is that it's also ... a cleansing thing really. It's relaxing, it clears away cobwebs. It's like meditation with a little more style. At least it is to Nicolai.     ...so he shares what he knows, his passion, a little bit of himself. She wouldn't recognize the song even if she spoke Romanian, because it's one of his own again. Something he sang to the his younger foster siblings when there were any around, a little something to make them feel safe and cared for in a new home that was big and foreboding as sprawling castles are wont to be.
Phoebe Beacon	And as big and forboding as castles are wont to be, the world outside is so much larger and scarrier. Phoebe stays like this, in Nix's comfort as he hums and sings to her, lyrics that are a nonsense lullaby, until her breathing evens out, her eyes half-closed, and she turns her gaze up to the shirted hot Romanian, and she breathes out, her dark eyes looking to his probably not-as-damp curls, and she drops her gaze.     "You are someone who is so special." she whispers, and brushes her fingers over his shoulder, the cloth warm from her cheek and her tears.     ... it wouldn't to stay a little longer.