Nusquam est qui ubique est.

There had been something surreal about coming back to the San Francisco Airport. The abstract sculptures, double-floored food courts, narrow old escalators, and high, trussed ceiling were all too familiar, even as they floated to the surface from the depths of her memories, buried beneath the stress and haste of the present. The fatigue of nostalgia settled in her peacefully, forcing her to gaze at the rushing passerby, remember that she might have been one of them once. Sonder overtook her mind easily, almost painfully. Uncomfortably, for sure.

It was easier to duck her head and not think about it until they left.

Now, standing in front of imposing wooden door, ornately carved and flanked by two polished window panes, the girl felt nothing. Oh, the mix of voices, squabbling for a place before the podium, as she walked down the path divergent around a hedge-framed planter had been cacophony enough, the tintinnabulation of nervousness against the deep roar of fury against the memories that had taken place here enough to drive her mad. But everything slowed to a halt, voices going silent, an awful emptiness taking place of the discord in her mind. Just... numbness.

Or maybe she was just afraid, and that took over everything else.

What was she supposed to say? She scuffed her feet on the front porch, uncertainty spreading over her features. She'd known that she had to come here. She'd known that it had to be now. But confronted with a front door and a doorbell to ring... well, what was there to do, anyway? Where the glimmers of ideas used to spark, only a vast, gaping emptiness greeted her, and she felt oh so lost, so confused... as she always did. After all, that was why she learned. She couldn't stand it.

She couldn't do it.

Cel turned to her companion as she felt the beginnings of sweat emerging on her temple. "I..." But she didn't know what to say to Elena, either. She couldn't very well give up, she'd just gotten here! With a resolute clench of her fists, of her jaws, of her mind, the girl raised her gaze to the door. Before she could give herself time to think any more, she raised her hand and pressed the doorbell, hearing the all too familiar trill of its song echo from inside of the mansion. She fought the urge to run and hide. Too late to do that now, anyway.

§

[font=Abadi MT Condensed Light]Another holiday, another country, although this one had a very different purpose than anything that'd happened before. A lead to find some kind of link to her past.

San Francisco airport was big, and the air outside was warm, some part of Elena wondered if she should try and make it here every holiday. Away from the cold and damp summers of England and to somewhere that the sun shined and people wore colours of coral and gold. It seemed to have so much more life than London, as if the sun had breathed spirit into the surroundings.

As far as Elena could tell something was creeping up on Cel, and it made Elena worry, uncertainty was starting to fill the air, and the sunlight on her skin suddenly felt so much colder than it had a moment ago. Someone so used to feeling the future, if only a few seconds ahead, couldn't stand uncertainty, things needed to be known, they needed to be shown to happen.

"One word and we can run for the hills." Elena said just loud enough to be heard over the sound of birds singing and the wind brushing the grass. The silence after the doorbell felt deafening, as if it was louder than the noise that had been there only moment earlier.[/font]

Tempus fugit.

If she thought the worry or anxiousness had been bad before, she had clearly been mistaken. In the few moments of silence that followed the ringing of the doorbell, fear threatened to crash over her, looming dangerously above her mind, screaming at her to back down the steps and run. She could only do her best to push back against the frightening sense of deja vu, trying not to shake.

Although the wait had merely been seconds, they had seemed longer, agonizing minutes. Relief and even more worry pooled deep in her stomach, intertwining strangely, until they seemed difficult to identify, in reaction to the sound of light footsteps pattering behind the doors—not the lumbering stomping that she'd remembered from so many years before. Could he have gotten better?

But no—the hand that opened the door was not her father's. Instead, a pair of too-large eyes peered up at her, floppy ears twitching as the creature gasped, letting go of the doorframe. "Celynne?" the house elf whispered incredulously, and backed away before running into the hallway, leaving the door swinging and wind drafting into the house. Cel blinked owlishly a couple of times, trying to orient herself. "Um, hi, Kisby?" she greeted to the empty air, still stirring in the elf's wake.

Cel turned toward Elena again uncertainly, not knowing what to do, but inched back, half trying to hide herself behind the taller girl. Ah, there it was—the heavy, shuffling footsteps of someone with too much alcohol and too many issues in his cranium. She shrank back instinctively, each step echoing in her ears and making her cringe.

She shut her eyes tightly as she saw the red hair and bright blue eyes shambling toward the door through the frosted glass, not opening them until she heard the telltale creak of hinges. And, oh. He looked so pitiful, bottle in hand and face ragged, but at the same time, the burning, simmering fury in his eyes scared her, ominous like a barnacle-encrusted ship lumbering through the waves. "...Natalia?" he whispered.

§

[font=Abadi MT Condensed Light]Not a lot could've prepared Elena for what she'd see when Cel's father came to the door. Elena looked between Celynne and the man in the doorway, taking in the situation and reaching for an item at her belt, almost both terrified and relieved to remember that planes didn't allow weapons on board airlines.

Elena moved a little to the side to stand in front of Cel, feeling woefully unprepared to stand there but like she needed to, especially after seeing the look in his eyes. Elena looked up at him with wild blue hair and eyes, in a stark contrast, trying to shock him out of whatever was going on.

Natalia wasn't Cel's name, and it didn't take a genius to guess whose it was.

"Hi, I'm Elena, I came with Cel to visit you." That's about all Elena managed to choke out, her voice wavering slightly as she stared at the man. She felt even now like she was a small glitch in a system, as if this was a game where she had no power. Experiencing a moment of history that was just going to recreate itself over and over again until someone took out one of the variables entirely.

Elena just hoped it wasn't Cel who broke the cycle first.[/font]