Logs:Garden Paths

Garden Paths
Dramatis Personae Matt, !Joshua
In Absentia	2023-05-22 "You're still on sabbatical?"
Location <NYC> Creative Little Garden - East Village
It's not a big park, really. A small secluded garden in the East Village, quite close to Tompkins Square. The trees stretch overhead to both sides of the mulched paths, forming a leafy canopy through which New York's murky city-sky is visible. Between the paths the grounds spill over with an abundance of flowers, hedges, community-tended, in here. The paths all wind together into the small central clearing, a little circular retreat with fountain and benches. The day could hardly be more beautiful; clear and sunny, warm, faint breeze. Not far away, Tompkins Square is lively; over on this block the sound of the drummers playing there still spills over, just distant enough to provide a vibrant heartbeat here. Wound through the drumbeats, the droning buzz of bumblebees fat and clumsy. Over that, the constant traffic - honking - clamour cadence of the city, its own steady heartbeat as well. Tucked on the edge of the gentle burbling fountain is one somewhat haggard-looking paramedic. Then again, when isn't Joshua somehwat-haggard-looking. It is a safe bet he has been undersleeping; a safe bet he always has. There's a coffee cup clutched tight in his hands. Not Evolve, just a bodega on the corner. His skin is just a little too pale, a little too sallow, under the warm sunshine which maybe he has not been getting enough of. He's dressed in jeans, sneakers, a garish tee shirt telling of a family reunion several years ago for a family that definitely is not his. Joshua's expression is much the same as ever. A little droopy, a little dour. More dour, probably, than the black swallowtail he is looking at deserves; the butterfly has landed in a spill of phlox at the edge of the path nearby, wings opening and closing gracefully. For a while he watches it. Then a few of the bees, tracing their slow path between the flowers until his eyes skim up from real bees to painted ones -- the vivid mural overlooking the garden, Dawson distracted from his work constructing a bee box by the flight of a northern flicker overhead. His shoulders tighten, just a little, before he takes a slow sip of his coffee. Just straying from the sidewalk into the garden, Matt looks as fresh and put together as Joshua doesn't. He's still in his work clothes, a light gray vest over pale pink herringbone shirt, a purple tie with interlocking polygons, charcoal trousers, and black derby shoes. He has his bag slung over one shoulder and a slim black thermos in the other hand, which he has just opened but stops mid-motion lifting it to his lips. It's distinctly after this hesitation that his eyes track to Joshua, then widen. His steps are still easy and light as he makes his way over to the fountain, though they fall just a touch faster. "Where--" he starts, then with only the barest hesitation -- bright green eyes searching Joshua in more than cursory fashion -- pivots smoothly to, "Are you quite alright, darling?" "Sabbatical." The answer comes immediate and rote even as Matt aborts his question. "Thought I said." Joshua's eyes don't leave the mural. Not when Matt enters and not when he draws nearer, though he does shift slightly on the lip of the fountain to leave a greater stretch of not-yet-water-speckled stone to sit on beside him. His elbows prop on his knees, one finger picking at a corner of the cup's cardboard sleeve. "Hive's upstairs." Is the Lofts actually Right Next Door to here? Eh, it's close enough; he's gesturing with the cup -- sort of up. Vague. Over one shoulder. Probably Hive's apartment is somewhere over there. "You said." Matt's concerned frown remains firmly in place, as does his gaze, though Joshua can feel his power reach--not just up, but out to riffle uneasily at the vastness of Hive's network. "It must have been one hell of a sabbatical. You don't look much refreshed." Now he does glance towards Geekhaus, but then climbs up to sit beside Joshua on the fountain's edge. He pops the lid of his thermos again, then closes it again, still undrunk. "Did you come back because you felt him?" This comes out just a touch flat and just a touch diffident, which might not be all that noticeable save by contrast to his customary affect. Perhaps noticing it himself, he adds, with more of his wonted brightness, "At least he went into it prepared, this time." He is pointedly not looking at the mural. "Just here for the coffee." Joshua lifts his generic blue-and-white WE ARE HAPPY TO SERVE YOU coffee cup indicatively. The intricate internal mechanisms of his power are grinding, now, carefully etching Matt's own ability deep into his marrow. His shoulders sink a little more heavily after this has been copied over, and his next pull of coffee is deeper. He stretches up, too, quiet curious sifting against the expansive root system overhead. "Prepared." His mouth twists to the side, just one quick-sharp motion. A quick-sharp huff, as he finally drops his eyes from the mural to settle on a bold cluster of bearded iris instead. "You know how far this goes?" Matt blinks at the coffee cup, then at Joshua. "You're still on sabbatical? In some godsforsaken decaffeinated wasteland, I presume." He finally does look up at the mural, letting out a long, shaky breath. "That bar's set pretty low, no? I don't know, but he's been at this for so long, and I'm worried." His fingers tighten around his thermos and his eyes widen slightly, though they linger on Dawson's painted smile for just an instant longer before turning to Joshua. "Wait, you do know why he's like that, right? I'm not sure how serious you were about just popping back for a coffee." "Serious as cancer." Joshua waggles the coffee. Then drinks from it. Frowns at it, too, as it starts to run low. He casts a slow sidelong look to Matt, then looks back up to the mural. Shrugs. "Was worried I was missing training, but he's doing that --" With another idle plink at the psionic leylines running around them. "-- extracurricular." Matt raises one hand to cover his mouth but can't quite cover the slightly hysterical laugh that escapes. "Extracurricular," he echoes faintly. "That it is. Gaétan went missing at the beginning of the month. A few days later Spence went looking for him and didn't come back. A few hours later a dozen other students vanished, we assume to look for them. None of them came back, and half the mutants in New York have been searching in vain." He pops his thermos and drinks deep. "When I saw you, I thought -- what if you'd already tried going to them and could not." This is even flatter than before, quieter. "I was bracing myself to ask." One of Joshua's legs begins bouncing. Quick, jittery. Joshua exhales through his teeth, and downs the last of his coffee in a hard gulp. "Fuck." This comes out very quietly. ""He can't --" He gets to his feet, abrupt, the cheap cardboard cup crumpling inward in his hand. "I can't. Go to -- they have bad fucking timing, you know." "Oh, I know. Though I'm not really sure when I would consider a good time. Term break, perhaps?" This is not flippant in Matt's usual way, but sort of distant and unmoored. He refocuses with a visible effort when Joshua stands up. "What's wrong?" He rises, too, his power coiling and wreathing delicately, not yet into but around Joshua's. "If you're too exhausted, I can help you. I'll go with you, for that matter--I think it'd be rather foolish for anyone to go looking for them without backup." "Not this sabbatical," is Joshua(?)'s clipped assessment of A Good Time to go missing. His shoulders tighten, and he drops the crumpled cup to the ground. Then, reconsidering (with a small sigh), picks it back up. "Motherfucker doesn't have his goddamn phone." Matt cocks his head, then uncocks it to take a drink. Despite all the caffeine, it's the littering and subsequent retrieval that gets him to, "Mirror." For once this conclusion doesn't seem to annoy him. "We kind of put that together when he didn't answer it. For weeks. Do you know where he--" He stops, lips compressing. Then bows his head slightly. "I know you didn't sign up for what he does--even he didn't sign up for what he does--but would you be willing to help us find the kids? It wouldn't be just you, we'd have a team to deal with whatever might be on the other side." "Sabbatical," Mirror answers, reflexive once more, their tone skewing more clipped as their body shifts and stretches, Joshua's clothes gone a few sizes too-tight now on Lucien's considerably more bulky form. They are starting down the path, not looking back at Matt as they go. "If I had the slightest notion where Gaétan was, don't you suppose he would be back already?" Matt scrubs his face with his free hand. "Yes, I gathered." However frustrated he may be, his power reflexively winds into Lucien's when Mirror takes his shape. He pulls it back just as hastily, letting slip only a glimpse of the jagged horrors lolling beneath the glassy surface of his mind and the brief reprieve granted from it by his (not)brother's presence. "Of course, and you don't need to be him to convince me ..." He trails off, now, eyebrows furrowing deep as he turns to watch Mirror go. "You don't need to know where they are to find them, either. {What the fuck is going on?}" Mirror isn't stopping, doesn't turn back toward Matt. "I know it is often convenient to think so, but I don't actually know everything about everyone. For once maybe you all will have to fix your problems yourselves." They toss the cup neatly into a trash can by the exit, and then are gone.