open | we always are together

[morphogenia]

WHO: Kamala Khan
WHERE: House 6
WHEN: Dec. 13th; late afternoon aka KAMALA'S BIRTHDAY PARTY
OPEN TO: residents of house six, assorted cr of Kamala and the other house six residents - basically everyone who knows Kamala, Frank, and Jessica and is on good terms with them. It's basically everyone.
WARNINGS: Possible mentions of horror settings or past trauma since Kamala does live with Frank Castle and Jessica Jones who are their own warning. Honestly this is a rated G birthday log.

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She wakes up super stoked to be alive. It's not unusual for her honestly. Kamala is more excited than usual if only because it's not every day you get superheroes coming over for your birthday. Granted she's seeing them more as ordinary people who do incredible things sometimes. That's a positive change as far as she's concerned. It doesn't change the fact that Kamala from like age seven and up would have seen this as a dream come true. Who is she to question the wisdom of tiny Kamala?

She spends a decent portion of the day (following breakfast) getting ready for guests. She styles her new, shorter hair cut as elegantly as she can, dresses in the hunter green dress and pants outfit given to her by the Observers because screw them it's pretty and they can't ruin it with what they pulled after.

By the time she finishes, it's time to greet guests and see what Frank's done with the rest of the house while she's been hiding out in her room to obsess over her appearance. She'll go around greeting whoever shows up, shoving food at them, and generally be grateful they came. It's her seventeenth birthday. She's away from her home, childhood friends, and family. Having anyone here today means a lot more than she lets on. It's about the only thing allowing her to feel happiness instead dwelling on what she's missing.

(ooc; top levels will be posted by Frank in like five minutes for setting info. please hold for those! feel free to tag those or make your own starter once they're posted. I'm flexible.)

Comments

[oorah]

He wants to reach out for her now, when she says that, but he doesn't. Frank knows instantly what night she's referring to, or at least, he thinks he does. There were some choice ones to sift through.

"Then I should thank you, too."

[underachievement]

Jess might not have minded the contact but she's glad he didn't initiate any. It seems like less of a big deal like that, being honest after everything; believing they've gone through it and aren't still mired in the middle, unbeknownst to them.

"Don't thank me yet," she says dryly. His sensitive ear won't miss the humorous crackle underlying her tone.

[oorah]

"Okay," he agrees easily. Perhaps too much so. Bemusement dances in his gaze anew. "Need a lullaby?"

[underachievement]

Apparently there's a chuckle or two left in her because that chases them out. Normally, Jess would emphatically decline, but there's no eye contact to navigate and no delusion of impressing her. He's acting the fool and she's feeling like less of one for it. "Thrill me."

[oorah]

He opens his mouth to ask if she's serious, but then remembers that never goes well for him and instead scoots a little closer as if that could insulate him from any embarrassment this might bring him. His voice is always soft, but it's even softer as he sings, and perhaps a bit pitchier than she might expect, but he's decently in tune as he gives her his rendition of this American classic. It's a song he used to sing Lisa, an honest-to-goodness lullaby, but right now it brings him no pain to share with her and that's a victory unto itself however it happens to be received.

[underachievement]

Jess remembers the words, recognizing the song at a lag. She hasn't heard it since she was a teenager, lost to time on a mix CD or an early iPod. The corner of her mouth cricks fondly. She repositions her shoulders and settles her head closer to the edge of the pillow as she listens. To his credit, it's in tune, though she doesn't know why she was expecting otherwise. It still sounds particular, if not necessarily peculiar, when sung in his voice. The melancholy is different. Rougher. That works for her, though Jess reminds herself to poke a little fun of him later. Curling inward for warmth, her knee presses into his leg. Then she bites gently on the inside of her cheek, chewing the vestiges of her smile away. (Or who knows how long it will take to fade?)

[oorah]

That warmth is enough to have him slipping under as the song tapers off, happy to prolong the ribbing until whenever they're conscious next. He's already feeling like this might be a good, long rest if how boneless he already feels is any indication.

"Night, Jess," he manages to murmur in that same gravelly tone he did that night in their tent under the rainfall in Reims, and then he's lost. A pure, blank sleep awaits him with not even one shadow or inkling of a bad memory turned dreamscape awaiting him. He'll sleep for easily ten hours if she allows it, especially after all the prepwork that went into tonight.