ArchivedLogs:A New Start

A New Start
Dramatis Personae Jax, Tag
In Absentia	2015-07-03 "/Here/ feels -- right."
Location <NYC> Warehouse for Sale - Brooklyn
Most of these warehouses were disused long before the various catastrophes that have befallen New York in recent years. This particular edifice looks more egregious than most. Debris washed in by flood waters and illegally dumped garbage lies about in drifts and heaps. The sheer number of broken household appliances littering its grounds seems to defy probability. The warehouse building hasn't even attracted the interest of particularly dedicated or creative vandals. Until now! Tag's hair reaches well past shoulder length now, crimson shot through with streaks of gold. Not blond. Gold. His t-shirt is gradient-dyed from deep blue at its fraying hem to almost white at its fraying collar, and he wears a lacy three-tiered skirt in royal purple. His sandals are bright, bright pink. He's fidgeting with the buttons on his messenger bag, said buttons changing beneath his fingers as he does so. "Not much to look at, huh?" Jax is bright, as well. In the very literal sense, his (constantly /shifting/) tattoos faintly luminescent, a soft ambient glow about him. His hair is dyed vivid flame hues of red and orange and yellow, his nails glittery, his makeup not so much glittery as actively occasionally sparkling. There's a constant restless bounce to his posture, jittery on the chunky toes of his red and black platform sneakers. He's in black capris, a bright red and yellow tank top, messenger bag slung over his shoulder as well. "M'sure there's buyers jus' linin' up then, huh?" His smile is quick, bright, if kind of mercurial as well. Flashing there, and then gone again. The warehouse around them is shifting, though. Debris swept away in favour of clean new resined floors with marbled swirls of rainbowed colours in them. Walls patched up and painted over with wildly fantastical graffitid murals. Chaotic jungles of whimsical lighting fixtures swaying from ceiling beams. "Ain't much. But it /could/ be." "Not exactly lining up around the block, no." Tag's answering grin is quick and bright. "People *are* scooping up properties all around the city while they're cheap, but the stuff that's suffered actual damage is a lot slower to sell." He traces the arc on the floor of a glittering blue curve with the toe of his sandal. "It could be *amazing.*" He stops fidgeting with the buttons on his bag and fishes a bright holo-sticker-covered thermos out of it. "And the best part is, tea still works here." He pops the cap and gulps down several long swallows, then offers it to Jax. "It's not the same one as in the dream." He says it rather mildly, not obviously in criticism or praise. "Well. Damage is expensive t'fix up. 'course, if you happen t'know a brilliant architect and some real handy folks as work in construction..." Jax's smile returns, slightly crooked. Vanishes again, as he reaches to take the tea. His fingers -- uncomfortably over-heated -- linger against Tag's when he takes the thermos. His brightly glowing eye skates around the room (now fading back to all its wrecked glory) and then returns to the other man. His weight rocks back onto a heel, teeth scraping against his lower lip. "We're no -- it's," he corrects, too-quick, a little stilted. "Not the -- same one. It could -- still work, though? Y'think?" Tag doesn't flinch away from Jax's touch, scalding as it is. The tea, at least, is still icy cold inside its container. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear to get it out of his face. No sooner do Jax's illusion fades away than do sketches of other patterns spread across the floors and walls, covering the gutted couches and defunct refrigerators rather than making them vanish. They shift and gleam and ripple with color as Tag spins around, half-dancing toward the center of the space. "Yeah. Maybe better, you know?" He spins back around to face Jax, his smile broad and earnest. "The inspiration's from the dream, sure, but we don't have to be tied down to the...future, right?" Small whorls of light flicker and ripple up from Tag's spreading colours, dancing up into the air to illuminate the room around them in a shifting glow. Despite his restless bounce, Jax is slower to follow after both Tag and the light, gradually drifting in their wake on the tips of his toes, teeth still wiggling at his lip ring. "Better? Do you think? I mean, that we'll -- that this'll be --" His hand waves, fingers fluttering out towards the space around them as a small flush fills his cheeks. "Everything's jus' -- so different." Tag stretches his arms out to pass them through the rising drifts of light. His eyes follow them upward and the shimmering abstract designs around them climb up the walls and curl into the rafters. "Well, I don't know, but I think we /can./ Make a new start." Some of the designs start to take on recognizable forms, though still vague and indistinct. Birds or insects or airplanes curving through a psychedelic sky. A tree there, perhaps, or a building, or both. "Make something different." He stops, turns his hand within a twist of light. Glimmers of iridescence color the air through which it passes. "Something beautiful." A few of the vague designs clarify, first taking sharper form and then sprouting into three dimensions to take life, take flight, wing off into the air in brilliant rich colour. The light around Jax brightens, though there's a pained scrunch to his expression. One arm curls around his chest, fingers wrapping tight around the opposite bicep as he watches the colour spread from Tag's hand. "A new start." He swallows, hard. "I think I'd like that." Tag's eyes follow the bright new shapes winging off to illuminate the vastness of the warehouse. "Yeah, me too," he says softly. A guileless smile spreads across his face as he steps into the glow wreathing Jax. "So we start here." Jax's arm uncurls tentatively, wrapping, hot as it is, around Tag, to pull him in closer. He tips his head down, lips brushing light against the other man's forehead. "Things have been --" There's a hesitation in his voice, a tremble in the light around him, but both of these settle slowly. "... whatever things have been lately. /Here/ feels -- right." Tag brightens, and the entire warehouse with him. He coils an arm around Jax and leans into him. "Here and now," he agrees quietly, "this feels right."