ArchivedLogs:Unsteady

Unsteady
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Flicker
In Absentia	15 January 2015 '
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. There's music playing in Jax's studio; there often is when he's working although at the moment (unlike when he is working) the door is wide open. Many lights on. There's a cinnamony-spicey smell coming from the kitchen, a counter on the oven counting down the last five minutes of cupcakes baking. Inside the studio Jax is in pale faded (very paint-splattered) thrift store jeans, a (similarly paint-splattered) Cooper Union tee. He /is/ painting, though on the studio wall rather than on any canvas, seated on a stool next to one wall with paintbrush in hand. Though /what/ he is painting is anyone's guess; the paint on his brush is clear, leaving very little /there/ aside from a wet shine. He's singing along with the music quietly as he works. "-- dirt roads and dusty fields and the simple things. An' I take pride in everything I got, 'cuz I'm American-born an'," through the singing he is frowning at a patch of wall that aside from its glisten looks pretty much just as white as all the rest of the wall, "-- country by the grace of – hrm." Micah is dressed work-like though he wasn't /precisely/ doing his job in its strictest sense today: TARDIS-blue polo layered over white henley and khakis, socks with red dragons curling around them on his feet. After leaving his outerwear behind and fetching a mug of lavender rooibos tea, he wanders he way up to Jax's room, drawn in by the singing there. He lingers in the doorway, watching with a faint smile for a bit. Flicker is more towards the Jax end of the scale in dress right now. Not paint-splattered at least but casual, track pants and a t-shirt featuring Gunnerkrigg Court's Coyote. He wanders over from Geekhaus, following the sound of singing to the studio as well. He slings an arm casually around Micah's shoulders, craning his head to peer inside. "... there's no paint there." His brows pull together in a small frown. "Why are you painting your walls with – nothing?" "I just enjoy the tedium of it," Jax answers lightly. "Had zero inspiration so I figured I'd just paint nothing, see. It's like a. statement. On the emptiness of life. It'll be in the MoMA in no time." Micah turns Flicker's casual-sling into a full-on hug, perhaps even with more enthusiasm than usual. “Good t'see you, sugar. I wanted t'apologise if I acted like a crazy-face at you the past week or so. An' thank you for bein' so helpful with the furniture project.” His head tilts at the other man's comment, watching the shiny bits go up on the wall. “Outlinin' for a mural or somethin'?” "You've had a whole lot on your plate." Flicker leans into the hug. Shrugs a shoulder. "Still working on the furniture, though now I don't -- really know where..." He trails off with a small flush. Looks back to Jax's work. "Yeah? You gonna tear down your wall to put it there?" His lip twitches at the corner, maybe a /little/ skeptical of Jax's nihlistic art claim. Maybe a little. "If it was /really/ going in the MoMA? 'pologies, Micah, but this wall'd be torn down in a /heartbeat/. We can /get/ new wall." Jax leans in closer to the wall, smudging at one particular bit of white space, but then stands. "Or somethin'." He trots over to turn off the power strip that is powering his /wealth/ of lamps and sunlights, plunging the room abruptly into darkness. It takes a little bit longer before /he/ summons light back up. A faint ultraviolet glow to abruptly throw the UV-reactive paint into illumination. Where the wall was blank before, now there is the beginnings of a glowing black-blue-green-purple ocean-scape, surreal and somewhat dreamlike. He is in the middle of working on a school of jellyfish-creatures, tiny and luminescent and apparently being harvested by a sea-horse-like merperson. The other walls are as yet bare, the one he's working on not even a third covered. "I been usin' Isra an' Ion as contacts for that...Ion bein' less'n reliable t'get hold of. I started askin' Ion 'bout all that kinda detail, but was stuck between havin' a nervous breakdown, startin' withdrawal, an' tryin' t'tell 'em ev'rythin' they needed t'know t'take care of Eri." Micah blushes a faint-ruddy shade, hand ruffling sheepishly through his hair. "Didn't...rightly get 'round t'askin' Kay. Don't know what he'd've told me if I /didn't/ apparently pick a fight with 'im somehow." Still leaning against Flicker, a faint trembling in his arms might be sensed by the other man. "Oh, yeah. Could def'nitely hang some more drywall. Or just give Ash a job fixin' it, maybe. If it's in the name of serious artin'. "Huh. That's neat. Jellyfish oughtta glow proper." "Picked a fight with Kay?" Flicker's brows lift. Eyes flick briefly around the studio. "Your house is still here." There's a note of surprise in his tone. "Couldn't have been --" But then the lights go off, the glowing comes /on/, and for a moment he's silent. Arm squeezing tighter around Micah's shoulders, eyes opening wider. "Holy cow. Oh man. Oh man that's." He's gone from surprised to definitely impressed. "Can you just. Do this. All over. Secret graffiti /everywhere/." "Well, t'weren't /fisticuffs/." Jax sets his brushes down atop his paint tin, rubbing at the back of his neck in time with a shy-crooked smile at Flicker's reaction. "Could, yeah. Invisible murals all over. Mebbe glow-in-the-dark paints 'stead'a blacklight -- It'd be fun to -- oh! 'scuse me!" In the kitchen the oven timer is going off; he's scooting hastily towards the door to dart off and check up on his cupcakes. "Could go over some of the designs in Spence's room with glowy. Add more fun bits." Micah's blush only glows more brilliantly with Flicker's comments. "Um. I ain't real sure /what/ happened. He came t'talk an' I was crashin' from tryin' t'play on the playground with Spence the day the withdrawal /really/ hit? I pretty much spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch feelin' like I was gonna die. Which may or may not've been better than the vomitin' on Monday." His eyes scrunch up a little, shoulders shuddering at revisiting /that/ unpleasant experience. "An' we got into an argument somehow. I just 'member bein' real confused by everythin' he was sayin' an' weird looks he was shootin' me, an' then suddenly he was jumpin' on the thousand ways I'm an evil-awful human. Usually I try not t'get into that kinda thing with folks, but I weren't...thinkin' too clearly. There might've been some...desperately defensive shoutin' I ain't too proud of. Kay /might've/ threatened some fire a little bit." There is a decided slump to his posture at this. "But...whatever mis-step thing I might've said or done. Think this was comin' for awhile." When Jax exits, his eyes track the other man until he disappears. "Um. Flicker? This might sound completely odd but. You don't mind me helpin' you with your prosthetics concerns. Or the research for the new one. Do you?" "Be fun to put them where people wouldn't expect. Just. Invisible magic art." Flicker's arm uncurls from Micah's shoulders so that he can step back out of the doorway and into the living room when Jax hastens off. He turns around, leaning against the wall to look over towards the kitchen. "Thousand and -- huh?" He looks over at Micah for a moment in confusion. "Have you been getting up to some kind of terrible human-first shenanigans I don't know about?" The last question only increases his confusion. "... what?" Apparently yes, it does sound completely odd. Flicker just looks blank. "Might hafta do that if I -- ever. Get the energy to -- do." Jax hesitates, uncertainty in his voice from where he's in the kitchen pulling cupcakes out of the oven. "... things. Again. Don't worry Micah ain't runnin' off t'join up with the Friends. Jus' been some – tension." "It can be a slow project, whenever you're feelin' like it. Just a little thing here'n there, now'n then. Make it all the more unexpected when somethin' randomly shows up." The crimson creeps further up Micah's neck to claim the shells of his ears. "I ain't been...nothin' of the kind. Just 'parently m'tryin' t'be helpful's maybe gettin' interpreted as 'flatscan guilt' an' 'broken mutant fetishism' an' glory-whorin' or some such. I dunno. I just...don't want t'make people feel that way. So I was kinda. Checkin'. That I wasn't bein' pushy an' presumptive with you somehow." "Oh." At first this is all Flicker says. His cheeks have turned a little red, too. He rubs at the back of his neck with a hand, head bowing and one knee crooking out to rest his foot against the wall. "/Do/ you feel like --" He stops, chewing briefly at the inside of his cheek. His head thunks backwards against the wall. "What does my arm have to do with that?" "Should poke Tag about it. See if he feels up for some /super/guerrilla guerrilla art." Jax is sliding four trays of cupcakes out of the two ovens, bare hands slightly glowy as he sets them down on the counters. "Kay's got kinda. A lotta anger. Think it jus' come spillin' out all t'once." Micah slides further out along with Flicker to help facilitate hearing Jax. "'Tweren't a lotta /gen'ral/ anger. Was a lotta maybe wishin' I'd die in a fire anger," is very nearly a disheartened mutter. "I don't. I didn't. But 'parently it's a thing. An' I just...love you an' wanted t'make sure I wasn't imposin' on you. Forcin' y'to deal with me. Lettin' me drag you into a research project like this." Both hands move to scruff through his hair this time. "Apologies, hon. Here I was tryin' t'make sure y'weren't uncomfortable an' prob'ly...did a better job'a makin' y'feel uncomfortable. We can...uh. Talk 'bout somethin' else if that's better." "When is Tag not up for art?" Flicker is still chewing at the inside of his cheek. Settling back a little more heavily against the wall. His arm drops from the back of his neck, curling around his chest to press fingers against his prosthesis. "You didn't really /drag/, I kind of asked you to trick me out. I just -- this isn't a mutant thing?" His cheeks have darkened further. Teeth catching briefly at his upper lip. "My arm's gone. If I were human I'd still. Need an arm." Jax starts to pluck the cupcakes out of their trays, lining them up on a stackable set of wire racks. "I feel like if Kay /really/ wanted someone t'die in a fire --" He shivers, biting down on his lip too. His eye fixes on the cupcakes, abruptly quiet. "Okay, honey. Thank you for...answerin'. That's the way I look at it, too? But, I'm kinda...just knocked unsteady a bit. An' I'd rather make sure folks's okay than have 'em...I dunno. Stuck dealin' with me if they'd rather not." Micah's head shakes a little at Jax's continuation. "Was a figure of speech, sugar. Just kinda hopped t'mind considerin' y'had t'talk 'im down from /bein'/ lit up." "Well. You can feel steadier with me." Flicker shrugs, dropping his arms and rocking up onto the balls of his feet restlessly. He blips over to the kitchen, settling past Jax to open the fridge and poke his head inside. "We're cool. You can't weasel out of upgrading me so easy." "S'still on board t'join your cyborg army." Jax's lips quirk up as Flicker goes fridge-raiding. He gives a small shrug, finishing stacking his cupcakes and wandering back out of the kitchen to flop down in a beanbag. "Ain't always easy when -- I mean, /I've/ done lit you on fire afore when --" He stops, blushing deep. "I think it just comes off a lot -- more terrible. With us. Than other folk. When havin' /feelings/ means you might destroy everythin' around you --" His tone is almost casual, though there's a small tension in his shoulders. "Just also kind of. Complicates the -- question of how angry --" He falls silent with a quick shake of head. "'pologies, that's. Not the point I know." "Thank you. That...means a lot," Micah replies slowly, hand to Flicker's back...which is very soon not there. Rather less /quickly/, he follows after the others, ending up in the living room as people continue to shuffle positions. "Good. Good. Horus'd be sad if he didn't have an army t'steal, after all." A frown pulls at Micah's lips, concern on his brow at Jax's elaboration. "Honey, I know. But y'ain't never. I've never thought y'meant t'hurt me. I was just...honestly a bit threatened an' hurt an' can't help t'take this personal when it /was/. I'll...mmn. I don't mean t'keep bringin' it up 'round you, but I just need t'check in with certain folks. 'Fore I'll feel okay with...bein'. An' doin'. Again." He chews a little on his bottom lip. "How's 'bout I get back t'doin' by makin' some dinner now's the oven's free?" Flicker pulls a carton of nut milk out of the fridge, pouring himself a small cup and replacing the carton. "What do you need dinner for now?" He is stealing one of the un-iced cooling cupcakes, lifting it with a grin. "Looks like things are all set." "/Hey/." Jax reaches out to pluck a multicoloured star-shaped throw-pillow off a neighboring beanbag. He flings it out towards the kitchen -- hurtling with surprising accuracy through the air to -- paf harmless and insubstantial against the side of Flicker's head. The /real/ pillow reappears in his hand, though a star-shaped /splash/ of colour has imprinted itself onto Flicker's cheek and hair where the illusion-pillow just hit. "I ain't even decorated those yet. Thief. -- Make sure dinner goes good with chai cupcakes."