ArchivedLogs:Artistic Vision

Artistic Vision
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah
In Absentia	3 May 2014 Recovery is still a process... (Part of the Perfectus TP and the Prometheus TP.)
Location <XS> Art Room – FL2
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. There are sounds of activity drifting up from the grounds outside; with the weather warm and sunny the outdoors are calling to people. Not so much Jax, at the moment. Tucked away in the art room, dressed simply today in Xavier's tee and jeans, he -- /has/ an easel in front of him, one of his final pieces though it's far too early yet to tell, really, what it's going to be. His palette is sitting on the table behind his stool, a number of paints gotten out but yet unmixed. Right now he's -- just sitting. Knuckles digging in against his eye, teeth pressing in at his lip. He looks a little flushed, slumped in against the table where he sits; he /glares/ at his easel once he drops his hand, though he still makes no move to mix his paints. Micah wheels into the art room from outside, returning from his appointment with Lucien for the day. He's dressed simply as ever in a green henley and faded jeans, his messenger bag sitting in his lap and his neon orange forearm crutches stowed on the back of his wheelchair. He knocks lightly on the door to the art room as he wheels in. “Hey, hon. You okay? Y'look a little...distant.” His brow is faintly furrowed as he comes in closer for /hugs/. Jax is slow to look up, turning only when Micah starts speaking. "Oh -- hey." A smile curls across his face, slow and tired, but warm. "Yeah, I'm. Feeling a little." That's as far as his sentence gets, really; he leans in to dispense hugs, tight and very /warm/. "Eleven days. I can do one painting in eleven days. Right?" His nose wrinkles before the addendum, "... s'not like I need to. See to paint or anything." With the hug, Micah adds a kiss to the top of Jax's head. “Still a little off, eh?” He glances at the unmixed paints, turning back to Jax at the additional comments. “Eleven...? Oh, did they figure out the chemicals an' what was goin' on? They think it's gonna be eleven days an' everythin' else is fine an' you'll get back t'yourself then?” His lips twitch over to one side. “Y'do kinda need t'see. Hm. I'm not sure how...t'help with that in the meantime.” "Eleven days an' my semester's through," Jax clarifies with a very crooked curl of smile. "Still got no idea on the what's-goin'-on front, Dr. McCoy an' Dr. Saavedro have been -- lookin' into --" He shakes his head, sliding back onto his stool to just slump against the table once more. His knuckles rub against his eye again; his hand drops afterwards to curl his arm around his stomach, shoulders curling inward slightly. "Lookin' into --" He trails off with a slow exhalation. "One painting. I can do that. I jus'. Right. Okay. How's it goin' with Luci?" "Ah. I thought that felt oddly specific." Micah returns Jax's smile with a lopsided grin. "Maybe was wishful thinkin' on my part that that was what y'meant by it." He moves closer, resting a hand on Jax's knee. "You're down t'the last paintin'? Whose is it? Maybe...it can be like when artists decide t'paint with no black or somethin'? A challenge that'll give it a dif'rent sort of style?" Leaning in, he rests his head briefly against the other man's arm. "Okay, I guess. It makes things /feel/ less odd, but I still gotta do the parts that aren't /just/ brain. Gettin' the limb used t'the leg in different situations. Buildin' up the muscle. Hopin' t'start on some real walkin' in therapy on Monday. Lettin' go of things. I'm makin' it a little further with the crutches now." "S'Ryan on this last'n. Jus' kinda worried its style's gonna be /suck/." Jax's hand drops to rest over Micah's, fingers a little feverish-warm where they curl around his husband's. "I mean. I guess. If it comes down t'it I got enough pieces t'manage without --" Though there's a distinct note of uncertain /fret/ in his tone. His shoulders curl in tighter, arm wrapping further around himself. He lifts Micah's hand to press a kiss to the other man's knuckles. "Good. Good, that's -- good, m'glad it's -- helpin', is -- there anything I can do? Here? T'help? I don't," he admits, "know much'a nothin' 'bout no physical therapy but I give good. Um." He wrinkles his nose sheepishly. "... hugs?" "Hm. Well, maybe you can spend a day practicin' first?" Micah's head tilts as he regards Jax's hand. "You're warm again. When did that come back?" He scoots a little closer to snuggle against Jax, perhaps checking that warmth out in more than just hands. "Um...don't guess there's much else t'do. Could maybe use a little help massagin' out overworked muscles. Relearnin' walkin' s'kinda miserable on the low back." "You want t'go back t'the room? I will put m'hands /all/ over you. Don't need much by way of seein' t'/touch/." Jax's arm curls around Micah's shoulders, pulling the other man a little closer; the warmth is there through the rest of him, too, not /quite/ back up to his usual heat so much as just slightly elevated from standard temperature. His fingers knead in against Micah's back, absently rubbing down against it. "Hm? I'm what?" “Mmn, I wouldn't argue 'gainst that.” Micah's smile spreads as he slides into Jax's grip, barely perched on the edge of his chair. He sighs softly at the rubbing fingers. “Hot.” There's a smirk with that. “I mean, you're always hot. But now your temperature's gettin' closer t'normal again. Not cold.” Jax's fingers slide down further, pressing in slow and firm at Micah's muscles. "C'mon. Think I need a little more time 'fore I try -- try any --" His hand waves towards his canvas. "Maybe look at it again t'morrow. I been --" His cheeks flush a little darker than they already were at the mention of being hot, and he leans down to bonk his forehead lightly against the top of Micah's head before sliding off his stool. "S'a good sign at least maybe? Maybe. I can't tell nothin' no more. I jus' been feeling proper horrible all day. I'll take /hot/. I /feel/ gross. M'glad you still think I'm --" His hand slides away from Micah, dropping to his side before he turns back to the table to start reaching for the untouched paints he had set out. Micah's sigh slides into nearly a moan at the deepening massage. "S'prob'ly best if y'start when it feels right, yeah. I mean, within reason for gettin' things finished on a deadline." He nods slightly. "Yeah, I think it's a good sign. Maybe we should sit you out in the sun...after. See if it helps some, too." He nuzzles into Jax's shoulder, catlike. "Always think you're hot. Dunno how we ever get anythin' else done, considerin'." Snagging one of Jax's hands, he kisses the inside of his wrist before letting him go tend to his supplies. Jax's nose crinkles up in a wider grin at the nuzzling, at the kiss. He gathers up his paints, taking them off to stash them not in a cabinet but in his own personal box of THINGS, returning afterwards to drag the easel off to an out of the way corner. "Okay." He doesn't actually head for the door upon returning, just kind of slouches down to kneel in front of Micah's chair, dropping his head to nuzzle in against his husband's lap. "Don't want t'get nothin' else done. Jus'. Snuggles." Micah watches Jax bustle about the room, storing his supplies. A push through the armrests of the chair settles him further back into the seat where he belongs. He reaches out to pet a hand across Jax's head as if ruffling hair that isn't there. "Don't got nothin' that needs doin' for a real pretty minute here. We can have /all/ the snuggles. But should prob'ly do it in a place where students are less likely t'wander in." "Snuggles /an'/ cuddles?" There's a quietly hopeful note to Jax's tone, a small smile curling across his face as he nuzzles up into the petting, now. He starts to push himself to his feet, but sinks back down to bury his face against Micah's lap once more. "Yeah. Yeah should prob'ly." Though he doesn't look to be getting up just yet. "Right. M'gettin' up. An' givin' you a good long massage. The massagey-est." "Snuggles an' cuddles an' nuzzles an' pettin's," Micah promises solemnly. "But we gotta get /all the way to the room/ first." He strokes his fingers under Jax's chin. "You need a ride? I can move m'bag." Hefting the bag from his lap, he pats a hand against his knee. "Hm?" Jax looks up, brows furrowed deeply. "Oh -- no. I can --" He shakes his head, slowly dragging himself to his feet. "I can --" He rubs his hand against his eye, dropping it heavily back to his side. He frowns over at the easel he just moved, squeezing his eye shut and then opening it again. "What was we doin'?" Micah waves Jax back closer again when his husband seems to be confused. "We was headin' back t'the room. Honey, are you okay?" His brows knit slightly. "Yeah." Jax's shoulders slump, his hand moving to squeeze at Micah's shoulders before he heads for the door, pulling it open. "I'm okay. Sorry. We'll go. -- Did you eat nothin' yet? I should get y'somethin' maybe? With your massage." Micah's teeth grab at his lower lip at that slump, his expression concerned. "Okay, hon. Just...y'can tell me. If you're not okay. Right?" He follows behind Jax, wheeling slowly. "Ain't eaten yet, but...room first. Food later. 'Less y'wanted somethin' now?" Jax nods, leaving the art room door open behind them as he continues down the hall, one hand in his pocket and the other trailing against the wall as he starts off towards the visitor's wing. "Right." He sounds a little bit distracted; after a moment he shakes his head, answering a little more firmly, "No, right, I jus'. I mean I don't even -- know what. Okay is? Right now? It's all kinda scary, you know? I keep forgetting. That I'm supposed t'. Be --" He scrubs his hand against his eye. "I don't know. Here? Me? An' then when I remember t'pay attention t'this body it jus' feels gross an' wrong anyway. I don't know 'bout food I jus' been throwin' it up all morning anyway," he admits with a scowl. "Jus' kinda want t'curl up an' sleep for a year I don't understand how mos' people --" He blushes furiously crimson, ducking his head. "... sorry." Micah wheels at Jax's side, leaning over slightly to bonk his forehead into the other man's arm since he's too busy with propelling himself to be able to hold his hand. "Why don't y'hold onto m'chair, sugar? I can lead back t'the room." He chews at his lip again at Jax's clarifications, furrows in his brow deepening. "Why don't we just lay down for a bit? Let me hold you? See if that helps at all? An'...maybe y'should get extra sleep. Y'been without it an awful long time 'fore now. Maybe catchin' up on it's a good thing?" Jax sags against the wall for a moment, but then reaches a hand to rest on the frame of Micah's chair, scooting in behind it a moment later. "'cuz I was gonna -- there was a massage. /Then/ sleep maybe." He follows behind, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Micah's head. "Maybe. Jus' feel like I don't want t'do nothin' /else/. Kinda need to, though. M'/so/ close t'the end with this school thing an' all I want t'do is lie down an' never move." "Okay, hon. We'll have snuggles. Then naps. Then maybe food. An' caffeine? An' y'can try at doin' /things/ again then." Micah frowns, wanting to hold Jax or pat him but needing his hands for the time being. A thing to be remedied when they reach the room and he can be out of the chair, soon enough. "Anythin' y'need? Anythin' y'think might help?" "Kisses." Jax's tone is a little bit lighter, here, smile audible in his voice even if from behind Micah he can't currently be seen. "Also I need to pee." That answer might not be /quite/ what Micah is looking for but it is on Jax's mind ANYWAY. "Naps sound good. Oh gosh. I think I been so tired I been /dreamin'/ 'bout naps. That's like a /stupid/ amount of tired. We should maybe," he says after this with a small frown, "go into town some time an' check on Hive an' Dusk. I don't -- know how. They're. Doin'." "Mmn, we can have so many kisses." Micah giggles a little. "Also, there's a bathroom there, so that's handy." He nods at this. "Yeah, I was dreamin' 'bout naps, too. Must be goin' 'round." Another nod answers the mention of Hive and Dusk. "We can call Hive. See what he thinks 'bout us seein' Dusk. Apparently that's /problematic/, so." He pauses as they reach the door. Jax giggles, too, pressing his knuckles to his lips and skirting around the chair to open the door, holding it open once he's slipped into the room. "My naps had snuggles in them. The dream-naps anyway. Can tell where m'priorities are. -- Should check in on Joshua too, don't think he's done left the clinic yet." He waits for Micah to enter, closing the door behind the other man but then just /dashing/ off to the bathroom. Micah follows as soon as the door is opened, pausing to remove his shoes and quit himself of his bag. Then he parks the chair in a convenient spot and retrieves his crutches to stand and move to the bed slowly. "Mine did, too. But all the best ones do, so that ain't too surprisin'." He nods again at the mention of Joshua. "We can have a whole visitin' day. See everybody." Jax returns in not too long, rubbing his hands together, still just a little bit damp and smelling of lemongrass soap. He heads to the bedroom, closing its door, too, and flops down on the bed beside Micah. "Mmm. S'nice though. Havin' good dreams that can also come /true/ -- oh my gosh." He presses his lips together to stifle another laugh. "Maybe Maya sent that one. Maybe you're jus' a /manifestation/. Plucked outta m'dream t'give me /snuggles/." He moves in against Micah's side to bonk his forehead up against the other man's shoulder. Micah tugs Jax in close as he settles on the bed beside him. "Well, if I'm s'posed t'be a dream-guy then I guess I better get on those snuggles already, shouldn't I?" He nuzzles in against Jax's neck, placing light kisses along his jaw. "Maybe we did have the same dream. Was a pleasant enough little thing. I'll take those kinda dreams t'be comin' true." Jax shivers, curling in closer against Micah with a quietly happy sigh. His head tips back, baring his neck to the kisses, and his arms slide around the other man, slipping beneath Micah's shirt to knead fingertips against his husband's back. "/S'posed/ t'be nothin'. You're already my dream guy." Micah's arms wrap tighter around Jax at the shiver. His kisses travel down from Jax's jaw to his throat, a little tickle of his tongue against the pulse there. A light blush dusts across his cheeks at that comment. "Must be mutual, then. We /did/ have the same dream, after all." Jax's breath catches at the small touch of tongue. His fingers press in more firmly against Micah's muscles, body melting in against the other man's. "Oh." The pulse there is beating /just/ a little faster, as Micah's kisses travel down. "-- That's still so strange. But if I had t'pick some part'a that future t'come true I'd definitely keep," his fingers are sliding up, slowly rubbing in against Micah's muscles, "... pretty much all the parts with you." Micah's spine slides under Jax's kneading, a pleased little motion. "Don't even know if it feels strange t'me anymore. Just seems like...another thing that happens. Shared dreams. 'Specially with you. Wanna share all m'dreams with you. An' there are some pretty nice parts, that's for sure." His hands slide down Jax's back, fingers splayed over him. His teeth move in where his tongue had flicked before, nipping quickly. "Feel any more like yourself yet? 'Cause I do like bein' with /you/." "Jus' kinda wanna share all m'/future/ with you." Jax's hands continue to move over Micah, running up to press in slow rolling knead against the other man's shoulders before working their way back down along either side of Micah's spine to the small of his back. The nip draws a small rumble of purr from him, vibrating in his throat against Micah's mouth. "I feel --" His cheeks flush deep crimson before he admits with a note of awkward frustration, "... like I gotta pee again s'been two minutes this is stupid." He nuzzles against Micah's neck, not actually getting up and just leaning in against the other man in a tired droop. "Sorry." His cheeks are still flushed. "Not gonna complain about that," Micah agrees, moving to gnaw on Jax's (not-still-healing) shoulder, a pleased sound answering the kneading. He pulls back to regard Jax at that report. "No need t'apologise, honey, these things happen. Y'been reportin' all your symptoms t'the docs? The sleepiness an' the vomitin' an' the frequent urination an' all? Anythin' could help. Did they do any blood tests on you when y'got back? Seems like a comprehensive metabolic panel wouldn't be a bad plan." "Mmm." Jax smiles happily at the gnawing, nuzzling into Micah's neck. "Uhm." He shrugs a shoulder, fingers still scrunching slowly in against Micah's back. "Took m'blood when I got back here, yeah. That was -- couple days -- back though I don't." He shrugs again, pressing a kiss to Micah's neck and then standing to slip out of the room. He returns a few minutes later, tucking in at Micah's side again. "... drugs that make you pee a lot seem like a real inefficient way t'/annoy/ your enemies t'death. Or I guess jus' surrender." "Good, good. We should check in if they found anythin'...off." Micah continues to press his teeth to skin idly as he thinks, moving along the length of Jax's shoulder. "Ain't so much that I think they /intended/ it. S'just... Kidneys are for filterin' things an' they put /some/ kinda chemical in you. Havin' t'go all the time can be a sign of...kidney dysfunction, diabetes, all kindsa things. Just seems like a good idea t'/check/, y'know? What might be goin' on. An' t'keep the docs updated." Jax hooks one leg over Micah's lap, nestling his head against the other man's shoulder again. "My ma did always nag me t'stop eatin' so much sugar else I'd turn diabetic," he says with a small giggle, "though I ain't quite sure that's 'zaktly how it works, I mean I kinda /needed/ it all on account'a doin' /strange/ things with sugar. But yeah, I should let them know, I been --" He trails off, arm curling around behind Micah's back, fingers slowly creeping beneath the other man's shirt. "... yeah." This comes quieter, after a long silence. "I should. Talk to. Oh, gosh. I might be stupid? Maybe I should. Go. Tell them. More things." "Yeah, that's not /quite/ how that works," Micah confirms Jax's suspicions. He is just about to remind Jax that he'd wanted to visit the bathroom again when fingers slip under his shirt. Instead, he just leans into the touch with a low purring. "What's makin' y'say you're stupid? 'Cause just /generally/ that ain't true." "How /does/ it work?" Jax turns his head in against Micah's neck. His fingers slide up against Micah's back, rubbing slowly. "{Sorry}," he says again in awkward Vietnamese. "I just, I don't think it's the drug I think it's probably just /me/. I should know how /I/ work, right? An' if you shut off my mutation my body's still gonna --" His eye closes, fingers pressing more firmly to Micah's back. "Sorry," is this time in English, "I'm not. Makin' a lot of sense I think I need to sleep." "If you're feelin' too sleepy t'think, might not be the best time t'have a lecture on the biological processes behind diabetes." Micah presses himself closer, petting his hands across Jax's head and the back of his neck. "Y'go take another potty break. We'll have some snuggles an' some naps an' we can talk things over later. No point speculatin' 'til we can discuss your results with the docs anyhow." His fingers slide under Jax's chin, tilting it so that his lips can meet more easily with his husband's. "Love you, hon." Jax's knuckles dig into his eye, brows creasing in frustration. "Right, yeah, I should." He lifts his head, thunking it back against Micah's shoulder, only to lift it again at Micah's tilting. His eye closes through the kiss, lips pressing softly back to the other man's. His arm slides more snugly around Micah, squeezing the older man close. "... Love you."