ArchivedLogs:Where to Start

Where to Start
Dramatis Personae Howl, Jackson, Spencer
In Absentia	2013-09-06 '
Location <NYC> 303 {Lighthaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
This apartment is cheerful, in its way -- bright and airy, its floor plan open and a plethora of windows providing it with an abundance of light. The tiny entrance hall opens into a living room, small, though its sparse furniture and lack of clutter give it a more open feel. The decor is subdued and minimalist; black and white is the dominant theme, with occasional splashes of deep crimson to offset the monochrome, though of late myriad bright-coloured dragonflies swarm across the living room wall. The couch and armchair are upholstered in black corduroy, the low wide coffee table central is black wood and glass-topped, and a few large pillowy beanbags provide additional seating by the large windows that dominate the back wall. Towards the back, a couple of doors lead off into bedrooms and bathroom, and to the right, the kitchen's tile is separated from the living room's dark hardwood floors by black countertops. Above the bedroom to one side, there is higher space; a ladder climbs up to a lofted area looking down on the living room. Standing in front of the partition between living and cooking area is a large fish tank: one lone Betta, blood-red, swims regally among several species of black and silver fish. A hallway beyond the kitchen leads further into the apartment. Another bathroom stands just into the hall and the farthest door leads to the apartment's final bedroom, the door usually kept shut to hold in the acrid fumes of turpentine and paints from within. Eveningtime finds Jackson's apartment full of cookingsmells; there's a coconutty sweet-potato curry simmering on the stove, a pot of rice in the rice cooker, a pie (strawberry-basil) just emerging from the oven. Jax is frowning /critically/ at this latter, lips pressing together as he examines its crosshatched lattice-crust. "It looks like you sewed it," opines Spencer; the seven year old (dressed in a t-shirt designed to look somewhat like a sports jersey, a red number 5 on it though the number has a small picture of an X-wing flying through it) has no such pie-criticisms. /He's/ only looking at it like he wants it in his /face/. Jackson still seems dissatisfied, though. "Ain't even," he protests, setting it down on an empty stove burner. He's dressed much more colourfully, bright purple capri pants embroidered with green dragonflies, green fishnet sleeves attached by safety pins to a black t-shirt that reads 'Let's switch gender roles!' in cheerful pink writing, knee-high mismatched socks (one decorated with bright coloured cupcakes, the other with pink and purple owls.) "I can eat some," Spencer offers. /Helpfully/. "Then it'll be even." Jax's brow furrows deeper at this logic, though his lips are twitching. "-- I ain't /quite/ sure that's the truth, honey-honey." Unusual enough as it is for Howl to be out in the city, it's even stranger that he's around this /early/. But discussions indicated that it might be in his best interests not to wait until too late, and so... the vulpine mutant has made his way to the Village Lofts, to the appointed apartment, and, with no warning whatsoever, suddenly finds himself knocking on the door to Jackson's apartment. Today's camoflage is a bit less concealing than usual; in lieu of his ladylike skirt, his tails are braided in the elaborate turquoise ribbon he'd used on the raid to keep them in place, with poofy bow right at the base of his spine. Anole probably helped with that. Work pants and sturdy boots make up the rest of his lower half, and a plaid shirt and suspenders cover his top. Really, he looks every bit the proper farmer, if not for the ears and tail making him seem less-than-trustworthy around a henhouse. He also probably smells a bit on the ripe side. He's bathed recently, but when you've been underground long enough your sense of smell starts to recalibrate itself. "DOOR." Spencer sounds /thrilled/ about this; in a flash he is out of the kitchen and reappearing by the front door; even teleportation is only barely fast enough for him to beat Obie there, though. The one-eyed beagle snuffles at the base of the door with every bit as much excitement as the seven year old, who is bouncing up onto his toes to look through the viewhole. "-- Pa there's a /man/. At the door can I /open/ it?" "Um --" Jackson has to take the /conventional/ path to the door, slipping around the counter to pad through the living room in bare feet and join Spencer there. "A man, I don't know, one sec, honey-honey -- oh!" This 'oh' precedes the thunking of the locks (from the sound of it, there are /several/), and the rattle of security chain in its slide. "-- Hi! You're -- oh, /gosh/, you're gonna hafta forgive me, sir, I'm -- blankin' on your name." He sounds genuinely contrite about this. "Everything was /kinda/ hectic when we -- Obie stay." The beagle is trying to push his way past Jax's leg to SNIFF at Howl. Spencer is trying to push his way past, too, though less for sniffing and more for gawking. "You're /tall/." A good few seconds, on Howl's part, are spent with wide eyes just kind of /staring/ for a moment. Apparently, this isn't exactly what he was expecting! After what is probably just a bit too much of a pause, he clears his throat, offering an awkward sort of smile. "Howl," he finally replies, just a touch shakily. "I'm sorry, Mr... Holland, yes? I didn't realize you had..." Waving his hand vaguely, he gestures to the apartment. "...So many. People. Happening. Is it alright for me to be here?" Frowning, he gives a bit of a look around the hallway. "I find myself needing a level head to speak with." With that explanation given, he then lowers himself to a kneel, to get himself slightly closer to Spencer's level. "I am!" he answers, the smile there a bit more genuinely warm. He's even trying to tone down his accent, as well as he can. "It is quite a lot of trouble, sometimes. Is this better?" "I have three kids," Jackson says with a quick smile (despite, admittedly, looking barely out of high school /himself/.) "An' just Jax is alright. -- /Howl/, that's right, sir, I'm sorry. I don't know where my head's been lately." "I have two brothers," Spencer clarifies this with, "they're /blue/." His smile brightens when Howl kneels. "Uh huh. But you donn't /have/ to I know some --" He frowns, considering, "-- a /few/ tall people." Jackson steps back, nudging Obie back with a heel and gesturing Howl inside. "Sure, it's -- it's fine, I um -- I jus' made dinner, you hungry at all?" He waves a glittery-nailed hand towards the kitchen. "-- Is everything alright?" Howl raises eyebrows at the notion of Jax having /three/ children, but for now chooses not to remark on that fact at the moment. He's instead just nodding at Spencer's explanation, smiling again when he mentions knowing more tall people, and replies, "You are very lucky to have such a large family." Pushing himself back upright, he steps inside when Jax gestures him in, brushing himself off a bit. "Sir... Jax," he repeats, by way of confirmation, though he seems to have a bit of difficulty with the syllable. "Everything is... as well as it as been. Which, to an extent, is what I am here about." However, the mention of /food/ has his ears perked, even if he doesn't verbally jump at the offer. "Dinner? -- I wouldn't want to, ah, impose. Unless you have a terribly large amount left over, perhaps?" As hard as he's trying, he isn't very good at rejecting offers of food. "But I wouldn't want to be any more of an imposition than I already am being." "There's pie," Spencer confides to Howl, beckoning quickly when Howl comes inside. /He/ is back in the kitchen in a heartbeat -- vanishing and reappearing over in the next room to clamber up onto the counter so that he can retrieve plates. "Yes but -- there's /also/ real food an' y'gotta have that /too/ if you're havin' pie." Jackson closes the door behind Howl, a slight flush in his cheeks as he shakes his head. "Oh, oh gosh, no, y'ain't -- I pretty much always cook enough t'feed an /army/, there'll be plenty. Do you, um -- like sweet potato? There's curry. -- You're here cuz everything's been /good/?" This seems to puzzle him, pausing en route to the kitchen to turn back and look at Howl with a note of confusion. Left to his own devices, now, Obie frisks around the taller man's ankles, nosing at them and then at the ribbon-tied tails, his own tail wagging eagerly. Snufflesnuffle sniffsniff wriggle. When Spencer vanishes to the kitchen, Howl almost jumps backwards, but does let out a little yelp of surprise. "Oh!", though, is all he actually /says/ on the matter. Jax is given a bit of a sympathetic look, and while food is happening, he works on finding a place where he can sit down comfortably. "I-- would be happy to find out!" is his eventual assessment, re: sweet potato, and once he's seated he leans over just a bit to set about to scritching at Obie's head and neck. "As a child, we never had much in the way of variety when it comes to food, but I won't turn my nose up at a gift." He nods sternly, there. And as he scritches at the dog, he's quiet for another moment on the matter of why he's actually there; whether he's avoiding the subject or just weighing his words is unclear, but he does, eventually, get to the point. "I am here because... I am concerned that there are those of us, there, who are..." There's a frown there, and a long sigh. "Some of the others aren't listening to my concerns because I have not lived there as long as they have, but I am worried that it is no longer safe for us to be in the underground. I can only imagine it's a matter of time until something like that happens again, especially considering... our operation down South. I do not know if you can help, but I needed someone else to speak to about it." "Sweet potato is great, it's kinda like -- having dessert for dinner." Jackson gives Howl a small smile, but then slips off to join Spencer in the kitchen, dishing up a bowl of curry and rice and setting it on the table for the child. He prepares a second bowl to bring out to the living room for Howl, a spoon stuck into the rice. "-- Oh. Yeah, I can see how --" His teeth wiggle for a moment at one of his lip rings. "It's a real worryin' situation. I don't think you're off-base t'be concerned. Has -- /have/ things been aright since -- everything?" He sets the bowl down on the coffeetable, thumbs tucking into his beltloops. "-- Where else would y'all go?" Leaning forward to take that bowl, Howl sniffs at it for a moment before hazarding a taste. His initial mouthful is slow, with thoughtful chewing, but when he swallows he gives a few short, approving nods. "It's good. Unusual, but good." He nestles it in his lap for the moment, but that last question gets a quiet shake of the head. "We have been fine, so far. That is the problem, though, that no one really does know where we would go." There's another quiet sigh. "Maybe I am frustrated because there is no magical solution to the problem. What worries me the most is that this isn't fair on the children we have there. Anole is starting school, but there are other children than him, and... it hardly seems fair for them to have to live with the fear that it could happen again at any time." Jackson nods, half to himself once Howl gives his approval of the food. He slips back to the kitchen yet again -- this time to retrieve himself a bowl, as well as pour glasses of fresh water from a pitcher in the fridge. One to Spencer, two to the living room; he sets one glass down on a ceramic coaster on the coffee table that bears an image of Jack Skellington dressed like Freddy Krueger. "S' --" His eye flicks back towards Spencer, eating now at the kitchen table. "S'a lot of things that ain't real fair. I -- how many kids do you have, I could talk to -- the school about -- we could take more kids." Though his brow furrows deeper at this. "But that won't help the rest'a you. I wish I /had/ a magical solution. You seen the news lately? S'folks up in Harlem looking like they're set to try and carve /out/ a safe space for us but -- building one that's actually safe is going to take a whole lot of time. And time just means a whole lot of fear in the meanwhile." "I suppose that did sound rather childish of me," Howl laments, pausing to chew on another bite of rice as he thinks. "The children tend to come and go, but there tend to be somewhere around.. a dozen or so?" There's a bit of a cringe as he gives the number, as though it's some unwieldy figure. Another bite of curry eaten, he pushes himself to his feet a bit abruptly, and, still holding the bowl, starts walking in slow paces around the room. "I will be blunt with you, Mr. Holl-- Sir Jax. I've recently realized that I'm quite terribly ignorant about many things about the world. I want very much to try to do my part to try to make things better, but I'm hardly certain where to start." He shifts the bowl to one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. "I feel like I should be making up for having been sheltered for so long. But there is so much that needs to be /done/." "A dozen." Jackson echoes this more thoughtful, at least, than dismayed. His teeth wiggle at his lip ring again. As Howl starts to pace, he actually sits, settling down into a beanbag chair with his own bowl of food to start in on it. "Don't think bein' sheltered's nothing you gotta apologize for. But it does help to know about the world if you gotta live in it, for sure. There's --" One corner of his mouth twitches upwards, his smile a little lopsided. "Always so much that needs doin'. World ain't ever going to run /out/ of ways you can help, at least. Lookin' after your own people's probably a good start, and it seems t'me like that's what you're here doing. Lord knows they need folks with their best interests at heart. I suppose --" Jackson's spoon taps slowly against the side of his bowl. "Findin' a new safe place. Or at least safe places to fall /back/ to. Might be -- a good second step. I just wish the world -- /had/ more places like that." "Indeed," Howl muses, quietly. The curry is munched on for a while longer, as he eventually finds himself another place to sit down, considering the matter thoroughly. "There are many things I'd like to do, to help with my people. I've had some grandiose thoughts, really," he adds, with a bit of a smile. "About self-sufficiency. I'm not sure if an underground garden would work well, except perhaps for root vegetables, but I have had thoughts that it may be nice to set up a small animal farm. A chicken coop, perhaps a few goats. I'm uncertain how they'd feel about the darkness, but it could be an interesting experiment." By now, he's more thinking aloud than anything, but eventually he does realize he's gone off on a bit of a rant and concludes, apologetically, "I am sorry, it is just that sometimes I feel like a bit of an outsider at times like these. And with Master Anole busy with school, Lady Tatters taking care of her affairs, and ... Master Morgan doesn't seem terribly fond of me, it can be difficult finding someone to discuss these matters with." "We've had plenty of aboveground gardens started for y'all, I've been -- makin' sure to harvest 'em still and send the produce down every week. Underground'd be harder, you'd need a lot more power than y'all have if you want to get enough light in though if you set it up with hydroponics you at least would cut down on water use." Jackson shrugs a shoulder, worrying at his lip ring once more. "Chickens'd be easy for sure, though. Goats -- little more trouble. But I could help y'set up chicken coops easy." His hand waves, dismissing Howl's apology. "Y'want to help your folks. I'm more'n glad to -- help where I can. I /am/ an outsider, I know that. I still -- care, though, an' if there's places I can be useful I'm glad to do it. Even if it's just being a willing ear here an' there." Howl nods slowly. "I know about the gardens, but... I appreciate them, of course. We all do," he hastens to add, "But part of it is that I feel badly, that you're helping us with little return that I know of. Perhaps that's something I should help with," is added, his tone suddenly thoughtful. "I know a little, about farming. And a chicken coop would be /delightful/." No trace of irony, there. "I haven't had actual fresh eggs in such a long time, a convenient source would be such a pleasant addition to what we have now." Gears are /spinning/. "I think.. yes, when I have the time, I will have to see where would be a good place to put such a thing, perhaps consult with Lady Tatters, and I will get back to you about setting up coops." He definitely sounds excited, now, if nothing else. Jackson smiles at this, quick and bright. "Good. Good. I think anything you can do t'help make y'all --" He hesitates, biting down at his lip. "Self-reliance is a pretty worthwhile goal. Steps towards that are always gonna be productive. I -- growed up doin' nothin' but farming, myself, I'd be glad --" He shrugs a shoulder. "Offer any help I can. An' I don't hardly /mind/ giving the help," he's quick to assure Howl, "I just -- I totally feel you. On not always /wanting/ to just take it. I think building up resources y'all can sustain /yourselves/'d be a real great goal." He scoops the last of his curry into his mouth, getting to his feet. "Y'want a slice'a pie?" "I DO," comes from the kitchen. Jax's smile curls brighter. "I know /you/ do, I was askin' Mister Howl." "He does, too," Spencer insists. The offer of /pie/ once again has Howl's ears perking up, but this time he's less quick to turn it down. "Pie would be /lovely/," he instead replies, with a warm smile, as he proceeds to finish off his own curry. "I'm much obliged for your kindness, although as I recall I believe Anole did warn me that you're quite handy in the kitchen." There's another smile, there. "Nonetheless, I would like to at least help with the dishes when we're finished, it's the least I could do." He stands up again, following Jax to the kitchen with his own dirty bowl, and using his keen human powers to assess where the dirty dishes go. "While this isn't what I came here for, I am glad that the discussion came around to this; if nothing else, at least I'm starting to feel as though there's some way I can be more helpful to my group. I suppose my other concerns will require more thought, in the long run." "Anole is pretty fond of pie, too." Jackson sets his bowl in the sink, retrieving a trio of small plates so that he can cut slices of pie. The dishes, at least, are fairly easy to figure out. There is -- a sink! With a drying rack next to it. "S'always ways for most /anyone/ to be helpful. Just sometimes you gotta actually try -- /looking/ for it." He sets a slice of pie down in front of Spencer, and sets the second of the three plates aside for Howl. "And in the long run -- I guess we'll just hafta --" His nose wrinkles. "Do the best we can. An' wait and see."