ArchivedLogs:Spring Optimism

Spring Optimism
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Melinda, Sebastian
In Absentia	2014-03-15 '
Location <NYC> Guerrilla Garden - Lower East Side
Situated on the lot directly adjacent to the distinctive sleek form of the Mendel Clinic, this space was once abandoned. The chainlink fence around it is still rusty, dilapidated, and the signs affixed to it still unwelcoming -- rusty as well, reading KEEP OUT, and PRIVATE PROPERTY. For those who venture into the slitted gap cut out of the fence, though, the yard within tells a different story. Neat and cleaned of any garbage and weeds, the once-abandoned lot has been rebuilt. Packing crates have been broken down for their wood to create raised beds full of rich soil, each bed neatly tilled and tended. Stakes label the different plants growing -- a wealth of vegetables growing three seasons of the year in the carefully tended soil. Around the edges of the lot, smaller beds have had brightly coloured flowers planted, lending even more cheer to the little hidden garden. Very eclectically mismatched seating has been brought in; old packing crates, chairs scavenged from curbs, though it's all been brightly painted. It's warm -- ish -- today, if cloudy, and with the weather in the fifties Jackson has been making rounds of his illicit garden plots to check in on them before planting time can start. With /snow/ on the forecast for later in the week there's no sense starting to work the soil just yet -- but a winter of disuse in the city has accumulated a winter of /refuse/ in many of the lots, so rather than gardening tools, today Jackson is out here armed with heavy gloves and trash bags. He's easy to spot, peacocky-bright in metallic-iridescent turquoise knee-high boots over black skinny jeans, silvery jacket over long-sleeved black shirt with blue-and-silver silver-embroidered trim, huge mirrored sunglasses and bright metallic-green lipstick, shiny silver streaks among the blue and black of his hair. He's gathering recyclables into one bag at the moment. Old cans. Beer bottle. A discarded plastic takeout tray. And singing quietly to himself as he works -- "-- and I promise I'll keep trying, even if I get tired. It's the wonders that I'm after, even if I have to fight, it'll all be hard and bloody even when I get it right." Sebastian is here helping as well, though for his part he is currently collecting non-recyclables. He's humming along, familar enough with the song to know the tune but not familiar enough to remember the words. He still looks -- /remarkably/ un-Sebastian-like, tall and lean and brown-skinned and feminine-shaped, a mass of black curls hanging around his face. He's in chunky black ankle boots (studded with a lot of silver), an ankle-length black wrap skirt dotted with batik-dyed rainbow lotusflowers, a soft grey peacoat belted at his waist. There's a small smile on his (very faintly pink-lipsticked) lips as he works. Or hums. Or listens to his dad singing. One of those. Melinda is not here to work. Instead, she is attempting work of her own. She has a small cart, one normally used for shopping, filled with supplies for moving. There are some boxes strapped to the outside by bungee cords, while inside is a roll of bubble wrap, old news papers stacked up and a few rolls of box tape. She is walking with only a light jacket on, over a tee shirt of blue and green with jeggings on bottom, with comfortable sneakers. The markings on the boxes indicate that she got them from work, with a paper cup with the same stamp on the outside. She pauses when she sees flashes of movement in the guerrilla garden and starts to draw in closer. She smiles when she sees Jax and his friend(?). She approaches and calls out when she's within speaking range. "Hey Jax. Are we starting work on this soon?" "There must be blood, and this I knew. I believe there must be wonders, too --" Jackson's singing trails off into a bright-cheerful, "-- Ohgoshhi!", a broad smile flashed to Melinda. "Don't really do a lotta good to /work/ the soil with more freezes due but I thought we'd clean up an' get it ready, yeah. I'm hopin' after the next snow's passed we might be startin' in on /real/ spring -- oh gosh I prob'ly jus' jinxed it, didn't I?" His nose crinkles up. There's a glassy clatter-clang as he drops another bottle into his bag. "Oh /wow/ oh gosh lookit s'movin' prep already? You're -- on top'a things." Sebastian keeps humming even a few bars after Jackson has stopped. His nose twitches reflexively at the approach of a new person, and his brows pull together in a small frown after the small sniff. His smile is small and shy -- at first, though it stretches a moment later from habitually closed-lipped to easier and wider. "Hi, Mel," he greets quietly, stooping to scoop a crumpled plastic bag out of where it's half-mired in dirt with one gloved hand. "We're being optimistic about spring." "Well, unfortunately, the longer I wait, the more difficult it becomes for me. I figured I should get things into storage now, before I can't lift much myself. Kind of hate the idea of standing around and watching." Melinda settles her cart in a place it won't roll away and takes a sip, the faint smell of hot chocolate drifting from the drinking vessel. "Oh. Hi there," she looks vaguely distracted when she sees Sebastian, but recognition dawns. "Oh. You're Luke's daughter? I think you were in the cafe once, saying hi to Shane." She smiles a little warmer then, before glancing upwards. "I will be very glad when we have more days like that. I guess I'm optimistic too." "You know if y'do need help folks'll be glad to swing by," Jackson answers Melinda brightly, "I mean, I got two strappin' young teenagers what're probably jus' /dyin'/ to be pressed into service at manual labour." There's a hint of laughter in his voice with this, a glance back towards Sebastian before, "-- /oh/. Oh gosh, Mel, you ain't, um." His cheeks flush dark, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. "-- This is. Sebastian. There was a kinda -- accident with someone's powers --" His teeth wiggle at his lipring. "I still don't really know no way t'explain this that /ain't/ odd." "I just look like Luke's daughter," Sebastian says with a small hint of blush creeping into his dark cheeks. "But I -- I think I'm still Bastian." His brow furrows uncertainly, head dipping. "Like Pa says there was just an, um, an accident and -- mutant powers are kind of strange." He crouches to pick up a styrofoam cup, tossing it into his bag as well. "But I'd still be glad to help with packing. If you need help. I'm not as strong as I was," he sounds kind of guilty about this, "but I can still help." "Sebastian?" Melinda is taken back, blinking rapidly before stepping forward to get a good look at him. "Wow. That's amazing. Wow." She glances back to Jackson before snickering softly. "Don't bother to explain. I am not an expert on pretty much anything to do with mutations. You've had yours for a good number of years and I don't think I'd be able to understand /how/ it works if you explained it. So, don't try." She turns back to Sebastian and smiles. "Good to see you, Bastian. It's been a long time and I've mis... Oh goodness. Of course, you're still Sebastian. People have changed shape before, hun. I don't think who you are is ever dependent on your form." She wets her bottom lip and nods. "Well, if it's okay. I mean, if you want to. I don't want to cause you any strife... with Shane." "S'right prety, ain't 'e? Not that he weren't pretty /before/." Jackson's smile curls up a little crookedly. "Gosh, I've had my mutation for years an' /I/ don't know if I understand how it works so m'glad I'm in good company, 'least." He moves over nearer the fence, stooping again to nab a pair of crushed and rusting beer cans. For a moment his brow furrows at the mention of Shane, but on this subject he says nothing. "Have kinda knowed a fair few shapeshifters. Ain't none'a them stop bein' /them/ an' you're always gonna be my kid." His nose wrinkles up as he allows: "-- except I guess when you grow up except no you'll still /totally/ be my kid, /Mel/ remember to install a pause button on your sprog. They don't come with /pause/ they jus' keep growin'." A faint smile twitches across Sebastian's lips at the reassurances. "It's just been --" His blush deepens. "... strange. Good? Strange. I don't -- know if it's --" He looks down at his work hastily, and lifts a hand to press to the side of his neck. His nails curl inward, scratching at the skin there. "{Sorry,}" comes in Vietnamese, "I'm rambling, um, of course I'll help, Shane's not going to --" He shrugs a shoulder stiffly. "Be mad at me for /helping/." "Of course, he's pretty. He's simply shifted from one type of lovely to another." Melinda shrugs as if this is the most natural thing in the world. "Go ahead and ramble. It's been forever and I really do miss you. Miss Shane, too, but I guess I'm ... unsure how to even approach him anymore." She tucks her cart inside the fence and moves to sit down on one of the chairs, letting out a sigh. "Bah. If they invented a pause button for life, I think I'd know about it. It'd be everywhere in the news." "B, you're pretty much a genius, d'you want to work on makin' a pause button for life?" Jackson turns his head to look over at Sebastian, a hopeful lift to his brows. "Promise I won't use it on you without no permission." His tongue wiggles at a lip ring at the corner of his lip, his brows slowly furrowing. "Shane -- I don't entirely know how to approach Shane. With caution, generally. Usually I'd say he'll approach you first when he's ready but in this case I ain't sure he /will/ without some promptin'." Sebastian scratches harder at the side of his neck, wincing faintly and then dropping his hand to rub against his side. Where he's been scratching his nails have left faint flecks of blood though the scratches close up almost as soon as they've been made. "I -- I could /try/, but it. Might be a /little/ more ambitious than my current project," he admits with a small smile. He rubs at his side, again, frowning. "... he's pretty upset. I don't know what it'll take for him to /not/ be upset." "Yeah. I don't know. I guess I'll just have to wait and see if something comes up." Melinda nods to herself and takes a small sip of her chocolate. It's less than hot now. "I don't know about a pause button, myself. Maybe after I have the kid, I'll want it. Right now, I'm just kind of overwhelmed." She gives a little shrug again and exhales. "Okay, so make a whole remote, B. Fastforward, skip a chapter, the works." Jackson chuckles as he gets back to work on the trash, nodding over to the messenger bag he's left near the fence. "Y'want cookies? I got cookies in there. Y'can nab a couple 'fore you head off home, I hear cookies is great for bein' overwhelmed." Sebastian blushes, hand returning to scratch at his neck. "Cookies are great for basically any occasion." He shifts uncomfortably, picking at the fabric of his shirt and then turning back to his work. "Cookies would be nice." Mel gets up and moves over to grab a couple from the messenger bag. "Thank you." She nibbles on the first one, clearing her mouth quickly. "I'll text you when I need a hand, okay, Bastian?" She's content then to move back to sitting, before heading home. It is such a nice day.