Chapter 2-
Two Weeks later........
" And iwhat/i exactly is ithat/i supposed to be?"
Morgana sighed, forcing down a sharp reply. She closed her eyes momentarily.
Please ijust let this go smoothly for once..../i
Her boyfriend was slouched down on her sofa, feet propped up on her stained coffee table. It had seen better days, most of them having been prior to her relationship with Drake.
As she spoke she coiled and uncoiled her fingers, always a sign that she was starting to get frustrated. " Listen, honey, this isi very/i important to me." She held up her sculpture so that he could see it properly in the dim light, " I worked inights/i on this thing and I really need your support if I'm going to win this competition. Now, just listen for a little bit and I'll itell/i you what it is."
Drake querked an eyebrow, leaning forward to snatch an apple from the coffee table. " Fine, I'm listening."
The corners of her mouth turned up in a sly smile as she sat down in the armchair, facing Drake.
The thing in front of her, which just might have managed to have been mistaken for a piece of art had it any semblance of purpose or shape at all, it lacked both, seemed to resonate ugliness with every corpuscle, every fibre of it's.....'body'. As it was Morgana was gently stroking it on it's hugely malformed head, or what Drake assumed to be a head. It was this dull lump of hardened brown goo that lolled back and forth ominously, as if threatening to, at any moment, snap from the strangely thin husk of a body that was supporting it. At the base of the body was a bulbous mass of paint spattered plastic which, Morgana had gleefully informed him, she had spent hours melting over the fire, and then moulding into the perfect shape.
He stared at it, hoping
Drake fumbled unsuccessfully for the right words, which seemed to be hovering above his head, just out of reach.
He jumped...
He grasped...
He missed.
" Or...whatever it is. Hey, why don't you explain it too me, like you said you would..."
Morgana blushed, " Oh, right, I said I was going to, didn't I? Okay then-"
Drake prepared himself for what was sure to be a long and particularly uneventful story of how her opus had come into fruition when Morgana was interrupted.
The light, which had been scarce to begin with, suddenly went out all together. Morgana screeched, there was a loud 'thud' noise and Drake quickly leaped up from the coach and ran over to her. He knelt down next to the chair.
" Are you alright?"
Morgana nodded, although the movement was lost on Drake since it was pitch black. " I was just frightened, that's all, I wasn't expecting...Oh no! My sculpture!"
It was then that Drake realised what the 'thud' had been and moved furtively out of the way of Morgana's probing hands.
Suddenly, the lights flickered back on, and Drake's eyes fell upon the crumbled remains of Morgana's masterpiece, part of the 'body' poking meekly out from under Drake's foot.
Her boyfriend smiled nervously but the angry rebuke never came.
Instead the young woman pointed, with a quivering hand, to the window, which was glowing eerily from an outside light source.
Drake abruptly turned around.
Tacked onto the window was a red piece of paper, folded, with the words " To Darkwing" printed on it. Morgana mumbled something quietly to herself as Drake made his way cautiously to the casement.
Before reaching out to grab hold of the thing Drake poked his head between the curtains and glanced out at the road in front of the house.
It was desolate, even more so than it usually was on Morg's street. Drake raised his hand up to shield his face from the light.
Nothing.
Only his motorcycle, the headlights had somehow been turned on and it had been propped so that they shone inside of Morgana's house.
He sighed, it wasn't quite as bad as it had initially seemed. At least, he thought, there was no immediate danger.
Not wanting to keep Morgana anxiously fearing the worst Drake turned around and smiled at her, giving her a casual wave.
" It's all right," he called to her," your hero has saved the day once again, there's nothing out there."
He was almost certain he heard her sigh quietly.
" What does it say?"
They were both now sitting beside each other on Morgana's falling-to-bits couch, Drake was reading the little red note.
Morgana cooed beside him in anticipation, she had only glimpsed the first few lines and was understandably very tense. Nothing like this had ever happened before, or at least, they'd never received any threats at their homes. No one knew...
"Dark!"
Drake's head swerved to face her at the sound of his pet name.
" Dark, listen. They know, they know..." The young woman began frantically waving her arms as if it would help to get her point across.
His Darkwing mask was on, the only thing that helped him to separate his working life from the life he led at home, with Morgana. Darkwing's right eyebrow was arched inquisitively.
Morgana's flapping ceased and she wrapped her arms tightly about herself.
" They..." She was quiet now, barely mouthing the words as she said them, " ...know. About us."
When she looked at him like that, as she did then, with the syllables of what she said still dangling from her lips, he felt his insides shiver. The eyes he stared into weren't eyes he could easily soothe, weren't eyes he could ignore. They were her, but sad.
Big. Round. Sad.
There was no other way to describe them.
" Morg," he let the paper fall onto his lap as he reached his hand out from her to hold onto, " I don't understand."
" Don't you see?" Her lip trembled. " No," she shook her head. " What did the letter say? What did it say Drake? Tell me, just tell me it wasn't them...tell me..."
Still uncomprehending Drake lifted the note up for her to see, the light from outside bathing her face in pink glow.
Gently, she took it from him.
iI think I know you. I really do. But, the question is; do you know me? I'd like to know the answers...but my head, it hurts so much, and nothing is ever quite right. Not... right. It used to be though. I see that when I look at your face. You make me breath again, I'm not quite so confused after being around you. God, this must sound like a love letter. Well, it's not that. I want to see you is all. I think that we should meet, and that such a conference of wit and will would benefit us both, perhaps we might learn something from each other. Then again, I might kill you. And I mean that with utmost sincerity. It is a risk I'm afraid you'll have to take. But sometimes the answers are worth a little 'hassle', aren't they?/i
Tomorrow's date, along with an address, was scrawled under the body of the letter, along with the initials C. S.
Morgana looked up again.
" Is that the 'them' you meant?" asked Drake.
" I-I don't know." She looked slightly angry now, " Does it matter?"
" I still don't get it is all...who knows what?"
" Someone knows who you are Dark, they know who we iboth/i are."
Two Weeks later........
" And iwhat/i exactly is ithat/i supposed to be?"
Morgana sighed, forcing down a sharp reply. She closed her eyes momentarily.
Please ijust let this go smoothly for once..../i
Her boyfriend was slouched down on her sofa, feet propped up on her stained coffee table. It had seen better days, most of them having been prior to her relationship with Drake.
As she spoke she coiled and uncoiled her fingers, always a sign that she was starting to get frustrated. " Listen, honey, this isi very/i important to me." She held up her sculpture so that he could see it properly in the dim light, " I worked inights/i on this thing and I really need your support if I'm going to win this competition. Now, just listen for a little bit and I'll itell/i you what it is."
Drake querked an eyebrow, leaning forward to snatch an apple from the coffee table. " Fine, I'm listening."
The corners of her mouth turned up in a sly smile as she sat down in the armchair, facing Drake.
The thing in front of her, which just might have managed to have been mistaken for a piece of art had it any semblance of purpose or shape at all, it lacked both, seemed to resonate ugliness with every corpuscle, every fibre of it's.....'body'. As it was Morgana was gently stroking it on it's hugely malformed head, or what Drake assumed to be a head. It was this dull lump of hardened brown goo that lolled back and forth ominously, as if threatening to, at any moment, snap from the strangely thin husk of a body that was supporting it. At the base of the body was a bulbous mass of paint spattered plastic which, Morgana had gleefully informed him, she had spent hours melting over the fire, and then moulding into the perfect shape.
He stared at it, hoping
Drake fumbled unsuccessfully for the right words, which seemed to be hovering above his head, just out of reach.
He jumped...
He grasped...
He missed.
" Or...whatever it is. Hey, why don't you explain it too me, like you said you would..."
Morgana blushed, " Oh, right, I said I was going to, didn't I? Okay then-"
Drake prepared himself for what was sure to be a long and particularly uneventful story of how her opus had come into fruition when Morgana was interrupted.
The light, which had been scarce to begin with, suddenly went out all together. Morgana screeched, there was a loud 'thud' noise and Drake quickly leaped up from the coach and ran over to her. He knelt down next to the chair.
" Are you alright?"
Morgana nodded, although the movement was lost on Drake since it was pitch black. " I was just frightened, that's all, I wasn't expecting...Oh no! My sculpture!"
It was then that Drake realised what the 'thud' had been and moved furtively out of the way of Morgana's probing hands.
Suddenly, the lights flickered back on, and Drake's eyes fell upon the crumbled remains of Morgana's masterpiece, part of the 'body' poking meekly out from under Drake's foot.
Her boyfriend smiled nervously but the angry rebuke never came.
Instead the young woman pointed, with a quivering hand, to the window, which was glowing eerily from an outside light source.
Drake abruptly turned around.
Tacked onto the window was a red piece of paper, folded, with the words " To Darkwing" printed on it. Morgana mumbled something quietly to herself as Drake made his way cautiously to the casement.
Before reaching out to grab hold of the thing Drake poked his head between the curtains and glanced out at the road in front of the house.
It was desolate, even more so than it usually was on Morg's street. Drake raised his hand up to shield his face from the light.
Nothing.
Only his motorcycle, the headlights had somehow been turned on and it had been propped so that they shone inside of Morgana's house.
He sighed, it wasn't quite as bad as it had initially seemed. At least, he thought, there was no immediate danger.
Not wanting to keep Morgana anxiously fearing the worst Drake turned around and smiled at her, giving her a casual wave.
" It's all right," he called to her," your hero has saved the day once again, there's nothing out there."
He was almost certain he heard her sigh quietly.
" What does it say?"
They were both now sitting beside each other on Morgana's falling-to-bits couch, Drake was reading the little red note.
Morgana cooed beside him in anticipation, she had only glimpsed the first few lines and was understandably very tense. Nothing like this had ever happened before, or at least, they'd never received any threats at their homes. No one knew...
"Dark!"
Drake's head swerved to face her at the sound of his pet name.
" Dark, listen. They know, they know..." The young woman began frantically waving her arms as if it would help to get her point across.
His Darkwing mask was on, the only thing that helped him to separate his working life from the life he led at home, with Morgana. Darkwing's right eyebrow was arched inquisitively.
Morgana's flapping ceased and she wrapped her arms tightly about herself.
" They..." She was quiet now, barely mouthing the words as she said them, " ...know. About us."
When she looked at him like that, as she did then, with the syllables of what she said still dangling from her lips, he felt his insides shiver. The eyes he stared into weren't eyes he could easily soothe, weren't eyes he could ignore. They were her, but sad.
Big. Round. Sad.
There was no other way to describe them.
" Morg," he let the paper fall onto his lap as he reached his hand out from her to hold onto, " I don't understand."
" Don't you see?" Her lip trembled. " No," she shook her head. " What did the letter say? What did it say Drake? Tell me, just tell me it wasn't them...tell me..."
Still uncomprehending Drake lifted the note up for her to see, the light from outside bathing her face in pink glow.
Gently, she took it from him.
iI think I know you. I really do. But, the question is; do you know me? I'd like to know the answers...but my head, it hurts so much, and nothing is ever quite right. Not... right. It used to be though. I see that when I look at your face. You make me breath again, I'm not quite so confused after being around you. God, this must sound like a love letter. Well, it's not that. I want to see you is all. I think that we should meet, and that such a conference of wit and will would benefit us both, perhaps we might learn something from each other. Then again, I might kill you. And I mean that with utmost sincerity. It is a risk I'm afraid you'll have to take. But sometimes the answers are worth a little 'hassle', aren't they?/i
Tomorrow's date, along with an address, was scrawled under the body of the letter, along with the initials C. S.
Morgana looked up again.
" Is that the 'them' you meant?" asked Drake.
" I-I don't know." She looked slightly angry now, " Does it matter?"
" I still don't get it is all...who knows what?"
" Someone knows who you are Dark, they know who we iboth/i are."