(2018-08-05) Sunny Vistas
Sunny Vistas
Summary: Besa travels to New Mexico to heal Dylan's grandmother.
Date: 2018-08-05
Related: http://coralsprings.wikidot.com/log:2018-08-01-care-package)
NPCs: Linda Running-Fox
Scene Runner: NA

Bright Vistas nursing home in person looks absolutely nothing like it's brochures. The building was probably built somewhere in the 1960's and it was the 80's or 90's that it last saw any real improvement. Linda Running-Fox is in Room 115. It is quite Spartan of a room. A bed, and two wooden chairs. There are two other doors, one presumably to a closet and the other to the bathroom. The painted cinder block walls have flakes of paint chipped away from time. The elderly Native American woman is sitting by the window, looking out at the desert and the dark mountains just beyond. She hums to herself a song.

Besa eyes the building, taking note of the run down appearance. He has a small computer like bag on his shoulder as he walks in and towards the room number he was told. Unknown to Besa, one of the Unit 23 members saw him go it. His dealings here will be noted, but not stopped.

The teen with the amazing hair stops at the door, taking a moment to straighten the nice button down shirt he has on. One must look presentable when dealing with elders, right? He's also wearing a pair of the designer jeans that Rain picked out for him. She was very helpful, not pushing when Besa didn't answer directly about The Who and Why. She knows she'll get the answers eventually, and this way she can make sure he's safe at least in his travels. A steady knock on the door and Besa waits for an answer.

The voice of an elderly woman calls out. "It isn't locked. You can come in, young man." There is no way for the old woman to know who is on the other side of the door. Is there? The old woman is just sitting by the window, with a blanket over her lower legs.

Old elders know things. Plus, Besa told Dylan to tell her he was coming, so….hopefully that's the case. He opens the door, dark eyes scan the barren room before landing on the frail looking woman. He smiles, head tilting softly, "Hello." In he goes, door closing behind him, "Your grandson told you of my coming?" His cadence is odd, clearly English is not his first language. Nor his second…nor third. He steps up to her, almost like he's expecting to be studied. It's kinda what old people do, stare at young people. He isn't sure if Dylan's here, or will be coming so he keeps his attention on the grandmother.

About that time, the sound of a toilet flushing can be heard from behind one of the doors, then the sink running. Linda offers a wide smile, "I was going to say something wise and profound about how the spirits told me of your coming, but my grandson's timing went and messed that up. Yes, young man, my grandson told me that you were coming… "

The door opens up and Dylan steps out, wiping his damp hands onto the legs of his jeans. "Oh, hey… you actually showed up, huh?"

Besa smiles warmly at her, nodding. He kinda knew. A turn and he blinks smiling now at Dylan, "Hello Tom. I said I would come. Of course I am here." His hand reaches up to adjust the strap of his bag, "I have several hours." Not that the healing should take that long, he turns back to grandmother and gently asks, "What should I call you?"

Dylan figures that Besa will end up taking up the other chair by the window, so he hops up on the end of the bed. He shrugs, "In my experience, people say a lot of thing that they don't mean."
"You must excuse my grandson," Linda continues. "He has been given many reasons not to trust people, but that does not excuse his attitude. You can eithet call me Linda or Miss Running-Fox"

A quick glance to Dylan, an almost amused look. "I have found that there is more good in the world than we know. It is just sometimes it needs to be looked for." The ancient teen moves over to sit down across from Linda, hand extended out as he lets the bags slip to the floor. "Your grandson is a strong boy, Miss Running-Fox. He will be fine." If she offers her hand, his fingers are thing but strong and warm. "And now if you will allow me, I will heal you as much as I can so you can be strong up as well."

Dylan snorts, "You haven't been to the same plces that I have." His grandmother gives him a 'look' which makes the boy's head hang down. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry." Linda nods slightly then turns her dark brown eyes again to Besa, figetting slightly. She does not offer her hand, not knowing what the boy needs or wants.

"No…I have not. I can say with some certainty you have not been to the places I have been. We will compare later, yes?" He smiles, but it's not snarky. "I must touch your skin with my blood. It is how the healing happens. May I have your hand?"

"Only if I can have it back." The older woman quips. Yeah, it's easy to see where some of Dylan's "charm" comes from. At least Linda's is said with humor. She holds out her old, gnarled, arthritic hand. It shakes the entire time she holds it up
Dylan watches very closely. It is not difficult to see his lack of trust in his eyes and his preparedness for anything to go wrong. Even if Besa did show up like he said, Dylan's lack of faith in him is clear.

Besa chuckles, nodding, "Of course." He grasps her hand, having had dealt with over people in need before and keeps his hand steady. His other hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out his ivory dagger. "You will not be cut. You will not feel any pain. I promise you." A treasuring smile and then the dagger cuts into his own dark skin an he hisses in pain.

Linda's eyes widen and she gasps in surprise at how much better she feels. At the gasp, Dylan is off the bed and across the room without a pause. "Ami sani, what's wrong?" He looks at Besa, "What did you do?!?!" Linda chuckles, as tears runs down her cheek. "It's alright, Dylan… I am alright.. better than alright. I feel better than I have in years!"

That amount of healing takes more out of Besa than he is usually prepared for. His hand quickly reaches for a cloth in his pocket, although that goes red. Dark eyes close and he turns his head, although it it's in pain or from Dylan's automatic accusation, who knows? A very soft nod, and he reaches down to try to get his bag. "Is….is there anyone else here that I should see, Miss Running-Fox?"

The woman looks at Besa, "There are many sick people in this buidlng, young man, but the question is what is the cost for your healing? " It is not the same cost that Dylan would have asked about. "Healing me has clearly taken its toll on you… what would it take if you do more?"
Dylan remains quiet for once.

Besa shakes his head, "The….the cut is already…" He wets his lips, glancing up, "I do not wish to ….waste bleeding. If….If there is someone else in great need…please. It is …I wish to." His holding the cloth tight over the cut. He's not going to bleed out, but it's enough he'll not have to cut himself if anyone else is to be healed. He swallows, taking in her appearance. And then he smiles crookedly, "I will have stitches. It is not the first time." While there's scars on his arm, no visible ones from stitches can be seen.

Linda looks at the young man and nods. She gives the boy a list of rooms that needs his help most. Dylan moves over to where she is sitting and kneels down and puts his head on her thigh. For perhaps the first time, Dylan looks like the fourteen year old boy that he is.

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