ArchivedLogs:Traditions

Traditions
Dramatis Personae Hive, Micah, Melinda, Tola
In Absentia	23 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> {Geekhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
There's an open airy feel to the floorplan of this unit. The door opens up into a wide expanse of common space that is not so much divided up into rooms as it is simply multipurposed. Ash-grey resin flooring underfoot runs up against the paler grey of the exposed stone in the walls; between the stone support there are wide floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at the river on one side of the home and the Commons' central yard on the other. Half of the space has a ceiling at one-floor height, though half of the space is left open with a balcony up on the second floor overlooking the living space below. A slatted stairway heads up to the second floor balcony; on the other side of the room, a fireman's pole running straight down the the basement provides a quicker way /down/. The wide open space here is combination living and dining room; near the windows there are a pair of couches and large armchair around a wide coffeetable; further off a steel-and-glass dining table is surrounded by eight tall black chairs. A full bathroom behind the stairway is done up in dark granite; the glass-doored bathtub/shower is rather expansively large. The kitchen is tucked off in back, beneath the half-height ceiling; in here the appliances and cabinets and shelving recessed into the wall are in brushed steel, wide grey sweeps of tempered glass countertops running around the edge of the room and a large central island holding stoves and oven and deep double sink. Adjacent to the kitchen, beneath the ceiling as well, is a sitting area structured largely around the enormous television against one wall, a wealth of video games for a number of consoles held on the shelves around the television. Crates and beanbags and one low futon folded against the floor are arranged in good viewing distance; opposite the television, a sturdy large pen built out of wood shrines a couch amid a sea of brightly colorful playpen balls. A door in one wall opens up to the apartment next door; a door opposite leads down to the basement. Tuesday evening /should/ normally be Game Night, but a text went out some time earlier this afternoon from Flicker informing the usual suspects that Game Night was, tonight, cancelled. Geekhaus is a whole lot quieter than Tuesdays usually find it, only the sound of the TV -- currently playing /In Time/ -- on low in the background. Hive is nested in the ballpit, much of him hidden in the ridiculously bright-varied (Tag has /clearly/ had an influence here) plastic balls, wrapped in Grumpy Bear sweatshirt and Van Gogh Tardis blanket, his soft fraternity beanie on his head. He has his laptop out -- kind of out, it's not /in/ the ballpit with him but the holo-projector he got for his birthday makes it easy to use it /anyway/ -- but he doesn't seem to be paying much attention to either the designs in front of him /or/ the movie. A little glazed-over, a little droopy. It seems like maybe it's dinnertime? Or DRUGStime? One or the other; at the moment he's been hooked up to an IV drip, the bulk of the machinery standing just to the outside of the ballpit -- /that/, at least, is new around here. It is roughly dinnertime, which has summoned one Micah with a pair of sip-top thermoses. One contains coffee (since Hive is likely to actually /drink/ that one), the other a thoroughly blender-ized butternut squash soup (which Hive is less likely to have anything to do with, but one can hope). He is dressed after-work style: post-shower mussed auburn hair, patchy bluejeans, navy henley underneath a turquoise tee on which chibi Toothless is reading a book to a gaggle of equally chibi Terrible Terrors. He half-knocks at the doorframe as he pads into the room, peering to see if Hive is actually awake. Melinda follows Micah in, arriving a few steps behind him as he enters, one small child in her arms. She hasn't bothered with a harness today, just carrying the gingerbread thermal clad Tola over her fresh change of clothes. She smiles as she enters, nodding to Micah as she removes her shoes. "Hey, hon, how are you doing?" She moves over to ball pit and lays Tola down in a free section of balls while she works on unsnapping her outfit. "Hey, Hive. You up for a little Tola time? She's pretty sleepy - but she always is nowadays, so probably won't bother you while you're working." Hive's eyes are open, at least; that's something. Awake might be overstating the matter, but the feel of extra minds arriving shifts him slightly up and slightly over, leaning against the sturdy wood-and-mesh barrier of the ballpit for a moment then slumping back down into it. His teeth grind, creaking together briefly. "Not working." At first this is the only answer he gives, though after a small fidget and a suspicious /eying/ of Micah's thermoses he adds: "... already have dinner." SEE? His eyes flick towards the IV. Indicatively. "S'just coffee an' soup," Micah explains, finding a nearby table to rest the thermoses on for now before settling closer to Hive. Not /in/ the ballpit, but close. "Are y'not s'posed t'take anythin' by mouth? Or is that just a supplement?" He nods, in turn, to the IV pole. His neck cranes a bit for a better view of Tola. "S'she catchin' the hibernation bug, too?" "Yum. Nutrient fluid." Melinda takes a moment to shuck off her coat before picking up Tola and removing the rest of her outergear. "Was that a yes on cuddling, or should I just feed her and put her the rest of the way to sleep?" She glances back at Micah as he speaks, exhaling with a quiet shake of her head. "Yeah. She was doing okay until December rolled around. She gets cold easily, and if I wrap her up, she doesn't get enough of the sunlamps." She shrugs, lips pursing. "I don't know. I think maybe hibernation's okay for a while. I'm finally getting some decent sleep, too." Hive shakes his head, curling deeper into the pit with a quiet rattle-shift of plastic balls. "They said I wasn't eating enough." His palm rubs against his temple, knees pulling inward with another rattling of balls. "Was always hard on Ian too. About now. Season. For Hibernating. Jayna. And Tola. And Jax. And --" His non-IV-attached arm reaches out to the side. Slowly fumbly-scooping Tola closer; his /mind/ presses up against hers, a lot less fumbly, stronger and firmer in its familiar curl. "Jax alive again yet?" “That's almost certainly accurate,” Micah agrees on the inadequate Hive-food-intake. “An', yeah, I get the lack of sunlight thing. Husband's been dozin' off all over the place lately. Just ain't enough t'keep 'is batteries charged, 'specially still recoverin' from bein' used as a pincushion again.” His head tilts a little at Hive's phrasing. “S'alive. S'been alive. Just kinda...sluggish. Sleepy.” Melinda helps settle Tola in Hive's arms, leaning in to kiss her forehead. She leans back just a touch to press a second kiss to Hive's cheek, lingering for a moment to squeeze his hand before straightening. She draws in a deep breath and straightens, hands pressing into the small of her back, a soreness there that preoccupies her mind with mild concern. Backs aren't supposed to hurt all the time, never mind that she's constantly working or carrying an ever growing baby. She looks around the room before settling down next to Micah. "Well, it just makes spring more fun, I suppose. Bah. So. Question, are we raising Tola with some sort of winter traditional holiday? I... guess, it's mostly a question I've been asking myself, but I wanted to bounce it off other people." Tola's mind is a delightful haze of cuddlelovefeelings. She is in the arms of her favorite brainperson. She turns toward his chest and lets her head loll inward, her ear settling over his heart. The thumping sound makes her even more at ease. "Pincushion?" Hive's brows draw inward in confusion. "He's always. A pincushion." His cheek tips up to Mel's kiss, incidentally also pressing his opposite cheek against Tola's head. His eyes squeeze closed, breath a little bit shaky as he holds the little girl close to himself. "Every holiday," he answers, softly. "All the presents. All the lights. All the --" He trails off, quiet. In his mind there's a myriad of stars, glittering bright and colorful, sprinkled all around the Commons in shining-warm festive decoration. Sparkly ones and glowing ones and metal ones, glass baubles and construction paper cutouts and twisted wire hanging from ceilings, the houses themselves bright and glowing, too. It's a mental image shared only with Tola, mind still squeezing in snug around hers. "... warm. Are you okay? You're. Hurting." "I meant less the body-mods an' more the /arrows/. From that attack? He still ain't back a hundred percent. Had two healin' sessions already." Micah shivers a little, head briefly full of images of blood on a road, Jax in a hospital bed being held together by stitches and medical equipment. "Solstice is a pretty nice one. An' can be areligious if you're goin' for that," he observes just to have...something to say. It wasn't really his opinion being asked, after all. "Don't think she's ever gonna lack for lights an' people spoilin' 'er." A fond smile spreads across his lips as he watches Hive with Tola, though those same lips are soon thinning in concern at Hive's question. "Hurtin'?" Tola's mind drinks in the sights and she pictures taking some of these stars into her mouth to taste them, to feel them with all her senses. She curls around their edges and tests their surfaces. Her mind awakens from the contact and, despite her body's lethargy, she engages and locks on. Melinda raises an eyebrow, refocusing on Hive when he speaks up. "Oh? Hm? Mostly sore, I guess. Cold and flu season is upon us and people are absent from work a lot. I've been covering shifts." She turns her head toward Micah, looking a little tired. "Mmmm. Yes. Solstice is nice. I think I'll keep with Christmas for the grandparents. Maybe we can make a big deal about New Years too. I... don't know. I just kind of want to make her life as happy as I can." Hive's teeth creak slowly, head tipping away from Tola's to spare her the hard grinding of his jaw. "Arrows -- that. Happened. Right. No, I -- right." His teeth grind again, voice dipping lower. Gruffer, a little more brusque. "... yeah. Me too. New Year --" His brows crease. "Are you doing anything?" "Oh, sugar, y'want some Ibuprofen? Or a heat pack? I got this one y'put in the microwave with a little sprinkle of water, s'all full of lavender. Good for sore backs an' necks." Micah shifts a little uncomfortably, not having /meant/ to fill Hive's mind with unpleasantness. "Grandparents usually like their traditional family holidays, yeah. An' then y'got ones like New Year's an' Thanksgivin' that're just kinda national-cultural." He chuckles a little, looking down at his hands. "Any excuse t'get people t'gether an' make bunches of food, really." "No, I'm not doing anything for New Years yet." There's part of Mel's mind that has put everything on hold to stay close by in case Hive runs out of time, but she fights it, pushing it down to keep herself from admitting that's why she's not making plans. "Did you want to do something? We'll still have all sorts of really wonderful decorations still up. We can keep the artificial lights burning for a while longer, keep this place cheery." She nods to Micah and wets her lips. "Ah, maybe a heat pack'd be nice, but I don't want to make you get up. I may just take a bath when I get home." Hive's head shakes, arm twitching a little uncomfortably. He flexes it, shifting it to resettle the IV tube to the other side of his forearm. "I don't remember what we do for New Year. Last year --" He frowns. "I don't know what. Happens. I don't want food." This is /sharp/, kind of /pre-emptively/ cranky. Or maybe not pre-emptive; he's flicking a Look towards the thermos of soup with the assertion. "Jax doesn't -- undecorate. Until the sixth. That covers New Year's." Mention of last New Year has Micah shivering again. “Didn't really New Year....last year. Jax was in jail an' then they were takin' in Dusk an' Flicker went into hidin'.” His voice is a little distant. “I think there was a thing at Luci's. I might've slept through it.” He shakes this off, looking over to Mel. “Okay. I /can/ get it if y'want. Now or later. Always welcome t'borrow.” There is a little mental note here of a gift thought for Mel, meanwhile. It might involve aromatherapy heat packs and nice soothing bathy-items. “Y'don't hafta eat it, sugar. I only brought it in case.” "Hive, are you protesting as a way of getting someone to bring you soup?" Melinda smile softly and shifts her weight slightly to stay comfortable. "Last year wasn't the most festive of years. We had zombies and aftermath. This year is much better, despite the nightmares and the stress. I am thrilled that people aren't dying left and right... and everyone is home, for the most part." She tilts her head up toward the ceiling. "Later is fine, Micah. Thank you for your concern. I think... I'm just not a teenager anymore." "I /don't want/ goddamn food." This is snapped sharper, a prickly-irritable wave spiking sharply up against the others' minds. He shakes his head, teeth grating together once more. "Still have -- zombies and --" He trails off, tensing, his eyes closing tight again. "No. Not everyone. Maybe it's a New Year. Tradition." Micah's head shakes slightly at Mel's suggestion, though this gesture is interrupted before it could possibly be of any interpretable use by Hive's snapping. "I'll take it back when I go, hon. Don't worry 'bout it," he reiterates softly. "Ain't like last year, though. For sure wouldn't trade...anythin' back t'last year." He nods at Mel's declining the heat pack for now. "Mmn. Ain't got much t'do with teenager or not, dependin' what you're up to. Know /I/ had enough back issues as a teenager." Though his might have had more to do with growth spurts, limb revisions, and prosthetic changes. But who's counting? "Think maybe we should come up with some better New Year's traditions than all that. Pretty decorations're a good start." "Ah. Forgive me." Mel's ears burn red with embarrassment for a moment, her mind pushing down her concerns and frustration. She closes her eyes and rubs at her nose. "I didn't mean to cause discomfort." She mostly tries to distance herself from those joyous feelings that allowed for a little teasing, the now fleeting comfort of a less tragic winter that is starting to wither. "New traditions should be embraced. Definitely." Hive's breath hisses out, sharp and hard, his teeth clenching up to leave his gaunt-angular jaw very noticeably tensed. His fingers flex, slow, and he shifts his hold on Tola to cradle her a little more securely against his chest. "No but. They -- it. Feels pretty much the same as --" His head gives a small shake. When he lifts his hand to rub at his eyes the IV tubing snags on a corner of the ballpit's wooden frame; he doesn't seem to notice the tug of needle against the thin skin of the back of his hand. "You should go." Not irritable, now; this just sounds heavy and tired. Micah moves, first, to un-snag the IV line, a little too keenly attuned to such things dealing with hospitals and patient mobility as much as he does. "Okay, honey," he replies to the request that they leave. His tone doesn't reflect the little twinge of disappointment in his gut. "Y'know where t'find us if y'need anything." His knuckles rap lightly against his temple to illustrate...the telepath has an easier time getting hold of others than most. As promised, he retrieves the soup thermos to take along with him, though he leaves the coffee in case Hive should want /that/ eventually. He stops by to place a kiss each to the top of Hive's head and Tola's, then to give Mel a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Love you. An' I got that heat pack whenever y'want, Mel." "Thank you, Micah." Melinda gets to her feet and waits until Micah makes his goodbyes. She presses a kiss to Hive's forehead first, quiet remorse still gnawing at her. Fingers reach out to lightly brush at his hair before pulling back a little and begins the process of picking up the sleepy baby and rewrap her in her outerwear. "Love you... both. I'll see you later." "-- No --" More of a quiet-sharp breath than a properly spoken /word/, slipping out reflexively when Melinda goes to claim Tola. Hive's hand doesn't move from around the girl -- not that this /matters/, his grip is a tenuous-shaky thing on its best of days and slips off without really giving much of any resistance. His head turns aside, eyes shining a little too bright before they close again. He slides down further, playpen balls rattling once more as he sinks deeper underneath them. "Later." Micah's steps falter at that word, frowning as he looks back at Hive. Probably he just wanted to hold Tola longer. Probably. He isn't inclined to ignore Hive's requests that he back off for...reasons. "Y'know where t'find me if y'want, honey. Just say the word." He moves back toward the door to Lighthaus again. "Oh. I apologize," There's a little thrill of happiness under her words, in her heart. She is so pleased he wishes to spend more time with Tola. She nods slowly and leans in to kiss Tola's head. "Just let me or Tove know when you are done." She puts on her own coat, heading for her shoes. "I hope you sleep well." Hive relaxes, slightly, at this. He stays quiet, turning in his couch-nest to lie down, tuck Tola more properly against his chest amid the sea of colorful balls. His only answer is a quiet nod, lips pressing silently to the top of Tola's head as the others leave.