ArchivedLogs:Thinking Ahead

Thinking Ahead
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Flicker, Paige
In Absentia	2016-12-04 "I already gave that pair away."
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with wending channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. It's a chilly miserable evening that follows a chilly miserable day. Grey, wet, drizzly, the rain comes in fits and starts; sometimes misting, sometimes actually pattering down more heavily; never /quite/ letting up enough for anyone to properly dry off. At this exact moment it is coming down light if fairly steadily, leaving the courtyard fairly well abandoned with most of the Commons seeking refuge in drier warmer places. Most. Right now two of its members, at least, are just returning to the community after venturing abroad into the cold wet evening. They've evidently been out for a while now -- Dusk's jeans are heavily soaked around their hems where they drag over the soles of his boots, though his denim jacket is pretty dry. This is likely due to -- no umbrella, but the enormous wings draped protectively over his back; one is mantled also-protectively over his companion. Somewhat appropriately to the weather, today their huge expanse bear the colouration of a storm, mottled grey and black with swirling angry stormclouds and shot through intermittently with jagged flashes of blue-white lightning. Hung over one arm, the canvas shopping bags he is carrying seem quite heavily laden. '-- not holding my breath on it meaning a whole lot long-term,' he's signing, rapid-fluent, his expressions and gestures both animated, 'but it's a start.' Huddled beneath Dusk's outstretched wing, Flicker at least seems to have escaped the brunt of the wet weather. He's sticking close to his housemate's side, the encompassing shelter of Dusk's enormous limb far better protection than most umbrellas. He has a grocery bag of his own hung off his shoulder (the organic one), his mechanical tentacle-limb (painted today in a collage of red-orange-gold autumn-leaves) crossed across his chest to brace it. His green eyes fix on Dusk thoughtfully; ultimately he just shakes his head. Replies aloud -- in Spanish: "{Well. Yeah. Since the US has historically... kept its word so well.}" Paige's hooded sweatshirt is quite peppered with spoltches of wettened fabric. Bent over, the young woman appears to be having a struggle with a malformed umbrella. While her back seems to have borne the brunt of the rain, she doesn't appear to be all that soaked - an indication, perhaps, that her umbrella-troubles only began recently. "Cheap piece of shit," she grunts to the object in her hands. The sound of approaching footsteps encourage her to look up as Dusk and Flicker approach, to whom she offers, "Lovely weather, right? At least it's slightly more predictable than good old New England." Dusk huffs out a sharp laugh, long fangs glinting in the quick smile that accompanies it. His, 'Fuuuuuck,' is kind of drawn out, though the following, '-- I'll take good news where I can get it, though,' is cheerful regardless. He draws up short as they near Paige, offering her a sympathetic wince. "Small blessings. Though calling our weather /predictable/ is --" His hand seesaws in the air. "I miss the chocolate rain." Flicker sounds a touch wistful. His hand curls into a fist, circles his heart in sympathetic apology. "Sucks about your umbrella. If you need a replacement, mine --" his mechanical hand snakes upward. Taps lightly against one of Dusk's long lightning-streaked fingerbones where it arcs overhead. "Is very reliable in all kinds of weathers." Although Paige doesn't understand or know much sign language at all, she does manage to recognize Flicker's gesture. "True," she concedes to Dusk with a shrug. "As for that replacement," the young woman says to the pair with a small chuckle as her eyes narrow in amusement. "You wouldn't happen to have a smaller set, would you?" She straightens up, one hand fidgeting with the handle of the ruined umbrella. Her eyes glance towards the bags. "So where are you two coming from?" "A smaller set -- of -- wings?" Dusk's eyes widen briefly at this, his wings tightening for a moment -- pulling in against his back, pulling Flicker closer in against his side. "Uh --" His grip on his housemate relaxes even as he shifts his weight back onto his heels. "Nah, I already gave that pair away." He pushes out a slow breath, flicking his gaze sidelong at his friend. One wing squeezes -- more gently this time -- at Flicker's shoulder. "{Me, too.}" Softly. Lighter, back to English: "Grocery shopping, you?" Flicker leans into the grip with a barely-audible catch of breath. Quick-sharp. His hand lifts, rests at the small of Dusk's back to press there firmly until Dusk relaxes again. He tips his hand toward Dusk for the other man's answer to Paige's question. "Taking a break from studying." Paige doesn't seem to notice Dusk's momentary discomfort. "Ah, too bad," she replies with a wry grin. "I was looking at, uh, stores in the area." Her bare hands find their way into her sweatshirt pocket; the broken umbrella sticks out, bundled up. "I found a list of mutant-friendly places and thought I'd check them out. I've been, uh, looking for some books. I didn't get--I didn't...think to bring any with me." She shrugs. "Taking a break is always good. What is that you're studying, Flicker?" "Brought books with you -- when you..." Dusk trails off for a moment, brows furrowing. Then smoothing back out. "There's always the library?" he suggests with a small hitch of one wing in a shrug. That same wing shakes lightly, carefully flicking its gathered coating of water off in rivulets behind him. "Cheaper and less cumbersome if you're not actually settled anywhere. Books are hard to move around." "The library was my best friend when I was homeless," Flicker agrees lightly. "Can't really get cheaper than free." He huddles closer once more, repressing a small shiver as Dusk's wing moves away from him. "I'm in med school. Did you find anything interesting on your search?" "Well, a girl can dream, can't she?" Paige replies in an amused tone before letting out a sigh. "You're right, though. I guess...I guess I'm just used to having money to spend." Biting her lip, she pauses for a moment in thought. "There were a few places, but some on the list are a, uh, long ways away and I'm not really keen on being far from here. And, geez. I bet that's...uh, tough. Never heard of medical school being, you know, easy." "Always." This reply comes immediately, on a warm hook of a sharply fanged smile. Dusk's head tips, slightly curious. "Guess that would be rough. If you're used to having money. Any plans in the -- uh. Work. Department?" Flicker ducks his head, one eye scrunching. Brief wince. "Yeah, that's kind of a change." His hand lifts to scuff through his hair. Brief shrug, too. "It's fine. Busy. Are you um --" He hesitates, then just shakes his head quickly. Hesitantly curious: "What /are/ your plans? Moving forward?" "P-plans?" The topic seems to catch the blonde girl completely off-guard, her back stiffening and shoulders becoming tense. "I...haven't given it much thought. I worked in the, uh, family store before college and during the summer." Her hands fidget inside their pocket. "Work would be good for me and I'm guessing there are going to be some, uh, seasonal jobs, but I'm not really clear on how the hiring of people...of mutants goes. I mean, -is- it any different? I -- I'm really nervous and the doctor said that my changes are still...happening." "You haven't given it much thought?" This makes Dusk's brows quirk up, his mouth twitching into a crooked smile. "Were you just going to stay in our guest room forever?" There's a lilt of laughter in his voice. He hitches his grocery bag further up on his shoulder -- hitches his wings further up over his and Flicker's heads as the wind shifts, driving the cold rain more sharply at them. "Not a lot of places that'll hire obvious freaks. A few out there, though. Some decent. Some shitty. Plenty of under the table work scattered around." Shrug. "I'm glad you're seeing a doctor, though. Good to be getting one thing sorted out, at least." Flicker's eyes open a bit wider. Then just as quickly, not. He sucks his cheeks inward, nibbling at their insides. "Good luck," he offers after a pause. "With your doctor and -- everything. I should get these groceries away, I think some of them are for dinner." "Thinking...doesn't seem to be my forte," Paige offers meekly to Dusk's response. The tension eases from her body, but her face reddens. "N-Not forever. Maybe I'll see if there are any openings at the library." She hesitates before letting out a sigh. "Thanks. Seems like a number of people here actually care about each others' health." This is said with sincerity as she nods to Flicker. "Good luck to you, too. I should be heading back to that guest room for which I am eternally grateful." "Well. Med school," comes Dusk's easy reply, a sharp thumbclaw twitching down to indicate Flicker. His wing wraps snugly back around his housemate as he steers them both off through the rain.