ArchivedLogs:Living Here

Living Here
Dramatis Personae Hive, Jax
In Absentia	2014-12-07 '
Location <NYC> The Unicomplex - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Flicker and Hive split the basement in this apartment; coming down the stairs emerges into an open expanse of shared space, with a pair of desks on opposite walls and large cabinets holding an enormous library of board and card games. The bookshelves here are packed predominantly with sci-fi and fantasy as well as a mass of roleplaying sourcebooks. The walls are eclectically decorated. A replica of Arya Stark's Needle, a few bright-colored but anachronistically somewhat morbid paintings of Jax's, a Mega Man X poster, a stained-glass suncatcher hung in the window and a collage of feathers framed on one wall. Up near the ceiling there's a large square hanging frame strung with netting -- a nearly ceiling-wide sort of hammock though it's hard to immediately discern how to access it. A side door leads to the bathroom, small but neat in pale stone tile. Towards the back there are walls dividing off the actual sleeping areas, tiny-cosy rooms mostly only large enough for the bed-dresser-closet combinations they contain. It's generally easy to figure out which one of the bedrooms is Hive's from the large amount of /clutter/ contrasting Flicker's perpetually tidy space. Flicker's full bed can be folded up into a recess in the wall, while Hive's larger queen hangs from the ceiling by sturdy black chains. Knock knock knock? It's not an actual knocking, it's more a (glaring) (bright) alert-bell warning sounding in Jax's mind, like, INCOMING. Only half on purpose; mostly his mind just never shuts /up/, vivid as ever, all unreal-bright colours and pounding throb of headache, though this time of year the hummingbird-flit of his thoughts has settled down into a heavier more sluggish ponderousness that more closely approximates average thought patterns. His mind heralds him rather loudly even well before he's making his way down the stairs to Hive's lair. Darkened lair, right now, unlit, blackout curtains all drawn. Quiet. Hive's bedroom door isn't closed. In the room the telepath is curled up in bed, tucked under a large heap of blankets in his boxers. << Too fucking early for this, >> slams anvil-heavy into Jax's mind. It /stops/ Jax for a moment, half-stumbling en route down the stairs though he catches himself on the last stair and continues on with a wince. "It's after brunch, honey-honey. An' you didn't eat none. I brung sum in the kitchen but I wasn't sure if y'wanted nothin' so I jus' left it up there. Can reheat later if y'want." He doesn't turn on any lights, though added to the jumble of his mind there's a jangling discordant note of panic as he progresses further into the dark. It's clear enough from his mindscape that he /sees/ just fine, eyes and powers both handling the dim light with ease. For all the good it does him when he's making a low-grade effort not to hyperventilate. << One, two, three. >> Counting his breaths. Counting steps to Hive's bedside. He perches on it lightly. Hive burrows further under the blankets, pulling them up over his head. "You can turn. The damn light. On." He says it a little /gritted/. His clenched teeth can't be seen but they can be /heard/. Jax's breath rushes out in a quick exhale, relieved and guilty all at once << -- make his headache worse? >> as he flicks a lamp on on the dresser. He's dressed in brightly colourblocked sweatshirt, skinny jeans tucked into knee-high mismatched socks, his hair growing shaggy in brilliant purple-and-copper mop around his face, neat-trimmed goatee matching. His hands fiddle in his sweatshirt pockets with something soft. "Meeting's gonna be soon. Thought I'd see if y'wanted to come." Hive's teeth grit again. Grind. Slow. "Fuck the meeting," he snaps back irritably, still hidden beneath his blankets. "Okay." A brief flit of annoyance, skating across the surface of Jax's mind; he pushes it aside on a slow breath. "Jus' thought I'd ask. Y'usually --" << don't miss 'em, >> his mind finishes the thought for him, despite the fact that externally he's just shaking his head, evidently dropping the subject. He pulls his hands out of his pockets, a pair of bright-coloured softball-sized round puffball-looking things in them. "I brung you a thing. Things." Something stabs up -- maybe in earlier days it would have been a prickle but now it's a hard sharp jabbing against Jax's mind, bristling with /knives/ instead of hedgehog-quills. Hive finally wriggles his way up enough that he can blearily peer out from under his blankets, head tucked back onto his pillow. "Used to. Have more fucks to give. Besides, what -- fucking. Difference. Does it..." His teeth grind again. "Meetings are for people who live here." Jax lowers the puffballs to his lap, frowning downward. "/You/ live here." Hive hisses out a sharp breath. "Today. Won't be around next week or next month to. Give any fucks what we decide about -- guests or spring garden planting or New Year's parties or whatever the fuck." There's a small tremble from the light in the room. A /brighter/ flare in Jax's mind, sick-unhappy-clenching that he presses down with a firm set of jaw. He tucks one of his puffballs alongside Hive's neck. The other on the telepath's chest. For all their poofy looks, they're oddly heavy, metal beneath the fur. "You live here now. Your opinion matters, now." Hive's head lolls to the side. A small echoing shudder ripples through him as if pulled out of him by the tremble of light. His eyes close as his cheek presses up against the poofball. Then snap open again. "... what the fuck is this." "Brung you a thing," Jax echoes, as though this explains. "B says s'a tribble." Against Hive's cheek, the small thing begins to purr, a small thrumming vibration. Almost cooing. The look Hive gives Jax now is /intensely/ suspicious. "... jesus fuck get it out." Jax's eye widens. Blink! Blink blink? "... Uh. What? O... kay. I jus' thought. Y'might -- like --" He's reaching to slowly reclaim the pair of furballs. Hive's hand falls against Jax's. A shaky badly aimed thwack that, really, has neither the direction nor the force to /stop/ anything. "No. I lied. I want them. What the fuck are they?" Jax shakes his head uncertainly. "Dunno. Some new toy she's made? You can ask her. They're cute. Can teach 'em all kindsa things like a puppy an' -- cuddle on 'em. She's -- working on makin' em. More. Cuddly. Less metal. That part'll maybe come next." Shrug. "Jus' thought it'd be nice t'have some -- silly. Cuddlin'. Somethin'." He stands, fidgeting slowly from one foot to the other. "I should prob'ly get back an' help with cleanup. 'fore the meetin' happens. I jus'... you give me a holler, aright? If you -- need. Nothin'." Hive nods, slowly brushing his fingertips against colorful fur. Listening to the resulting vibrating. "... I can't. Get there on my own, anyway." Jax's mouth twists a little bit upward at one corner. "Convenient enough, y'don't need to. S'why I come, right?" Hive's fingers are still working at the fur. "I just. I haven't even. Showered or -- dressed or. Anything, I can't..." He trails off, burrowing further back down again. "/Conveniently/ enough --" Jax's hands spread upward in front of him. Hive's eyes scrunch closed, another small tremor in his shoulders. There's a mixed-up clutter of thoughts in Jax's mind. /Kind/ of wishing he were a telepath. Weighing how much Hive genuinely doesn't want to go to the meeting to how much he maybe just doesn't want to be a burden to how much he is maybe just feeling terrible right now. To how much he genuinely doesn't care because of dying. His teeth scrape against his lower lip. He moves back to settle down on the bed again, fingers rubbing slowly against the back of Hive's neck. "How about we jus' stay here a bit, huh? I'll bring the laptop. Some cocoa. Can watch some stupid nonsense with spaceships in." Hive curls in closer to Jax, one arm hugging one of the purring furballs to his chest. His cheek rests against the photokinetic's leg. "... I like /good/ nonsense with spaceships in." He doesn't quite manage a smile. Doesn't move, either. Just presses his face to Jax's leg, tears dampening the other man's jeans. "S'no accountin' for taste." Jax leans down, kissing the top of Hive's head. His arm curls down against Hive's shoulder, and if Hive isn't inclined to move, neither is he.