ArchivedLogs:Of Cylons and Ponies
| Of Cylons and Ponies | |
|---|---|
Dreaming, Robots, Glowing, and Geekery | |
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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23 April 2013 Guys. GUYS. Lucien is a closet Brony. The rest is kind of unimportant. XD |
| Location
<NYC> Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center - Upper East Side | |
Matt's hospital room looks much like many others. Bed. Chairs beside. A side table. A plethora of machines and monitors. A TV mounted from the ceiling. A side door leading to the bathroom. A small window, its shades pulled down. The television is off, at the moment; Matt is propped up in bed against a couple pillows, fuzzy green knit cap pulled down over his ears, a book in his lap -- /The Killing Moon/, N.K. Jemisin. He's not reading it; it's fallen closed against his fingers, his head drooping and eyes closed. Lucien is there, too. He's curled up in a chair beside Matt's bed, legs tucked up beneath him and a laptop in his lap. At first blush he looks half drowsing, too, cheek resting against his knuckles, his eyes mostly closed. Only mostly, though. He's scanning his laptop screen slowly from beneath half-closed lids, intermittently lazily tapping at his mousepad. Hive is a little damp when he arrives. Damp shabby grey jacket, damp blue jeans, damp black shirt ('Ceci n'est pas une lune' written beneath what appears to be a moon, in cursive), soggy falling-apart sneakers held together with duct tape. OK, maybe more than a little damp. It's not raining /hard/ outside but it's been drizzling /steadily/ and he seems to have been out in it a while. He's pushing hair back off his face, knocking at Matt's door. He looks pretty grumpy. That's not unusual, really. Probably soaking in the oh-so-cheerful minds of an entire hospital full of cancer patients and their families is not helping his mood, too. Micah is only /slightly/ damp. There are some benefits to driving. He has hidden himself from the rain under a newsboy cap that is somewhere in the unidentifiable colour range between dark green and light brown. He is clad in an olive green canvas jacket over his faded xkcd ‘Stand Back I’m Going to Try Science!’ T-shirt and multi-patched jeans. A large messenger bag has its strap slung crosswise over his torso. He does not look grumpy. More…/actually/ oh-so-cheerful. Sorry, Hive. Jackson is not looking damp at all as he bounces down the hallway! Maybe he just carries his own personal aura of sunshine around him. Keeping the rain away. He's certainly carrying it with him now, humming brightly to himself -- Katy Perry's 'Firework' -- and his greeting is chipper. "Hiiiii, Hive! Hiiiii, Micah!" He's dressed less brightly than his usual, black jeans with faint silver pinstripes, a red button-down shirt. Faintly shimmery makeup. Thick black cuffs at his wrist. He has a black FreakAngels messenger bag at his hip, currently kind of boxy-bulky. "Hi how are you oh gosh you look kind of /grump/." Which is immediately answered with INCOMING HUG. Hive gets mental forewarning of this, at least, it's hard to surprise a telepath. His mind is its usual vibrant buzz, more images than words, in too-too-bright colour and hummingbird-flitting from one thought to the next. Like HUGS. And MICAH. And GAMES and MATT and /why/ don't they know anyone who can cure cancer? "It's open," Lucien calls, towards the door. He evidently has no plans to get /up/. His mind is its usual, too. Calm. Flat. Pretty much silent. Matt's, though, is vibrantly alive with dreaming. It's disjointed, in the way of dreams; there are robot-people chasing flying seahorses through a forest. Matt might be riding along in the robot army, uniformed and helmetted and mounted on a giant robotic lizard. His fingers twitch against his book. Lucien keeps lazily browsing. "Ohfuck," is all Hive says before there is hug /incoming/ but for all he scowls, he returns the hug. Tight. Maybe a little longer than he needs to, screw the damp. Micah gets a shoulder-bop when Hive releases Jax, and then he twists the doorknob and heads inside. "Sup, Micah. I saw your dipshit asshole friend again today," he informs Micah almost pleasantly. "He started preaching at me about how we learn the most from ourselves when we're put to the test and there's little as trying as defending what we love and it's so hard to have to learn the dark places in ourselves. He spouted all that bullshit and I /didn't/ punch him." He says this like it's an /accomplishment/. "Yo. Matt." This is delivered in the same gruff tone. "Should we not be waking him?" Not that Hive is making much /effort/ not to wake Matt, dragging a chair over next to the bed and plopping down into it. Lucien gets an upward head-jerk of a nod. Hive /probably/ would have gotten hugged /again/, but Micah has a Jax to take his hugs out on, too. So he is safe for now! “HIhihi, guys!” Hive gets a back-pat and Jax gets /hugs/. “I’m good! How are you, hon?” is in reply to Jax. To Hive he answers, “Corey again? I have…no idea what it is that makes him get all preachy at you. He has never done that around me.” Micah’s nose scrunches up like a rabbit’s when presented with an unusual scent. “Maybe it is a knee-jerk reaction to grumpiness or something. That’s so weird. I can…maybe tell him to cut it out. When I see him again. Thank you for not punching him. Um…he probably might could squish you, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t try to?” Micah quiets when he enters the room. Because sleeping Matt. Jackson squeeeeezes, first Hive and then Micah in turn. "Me? I'm doing -- hey you know it's because you're a jerk," Jackson informs Hive brightly. He accentuates this statement not with a hug but with a /kiss/ on the cheek before trotting into the room as well. "-- Corey? What's -- what?" He possibly delivered this initial assessment without bothering to, well, /assess/. "-- what -- were you talking about? You know Corey?" His tone quiets as they enter. "-- dark places in yourself?" His expression is puzzled. His thoughts are -- maaaybe flitting darker places now. Places where Hive is trying to kill him. It takes a conscious effort to steer them back towards lighter, happier: "Luci! Matt! Oh. SleepingMatt." He shushes still further. "-- I brought some game-things, um, Flicker said they were good. He didn't want to -- he /wanted/ to come but we didn't want to crowd /everyone/ in you know? That might be overwhelming. They'll come by in a couple days for a /new/ game night." "Again." Lucien doesn't look up from his screen. "Maybe assholes attract assholes," he suggests mildly. "Wake him, if you like. He has been looking forward to your visit all day. Flicker probably made the right decision. This room would be quite over-crowded with too many more. I do not think the staff here would approve.” "Man I don't /doubt/ it, assholery is like a fucking asshole /magnet/. But, you know, being nice is like an asshole magnet, too? I mean look who these guys are friends with." Hive waves to Micah and Jax. "And yeah, I know him, he's a condescending twit." But there's no more monologuing, this time. Just a tired /slump/ in his chair. It gets more tired with Jax's not-quite-repressed memories. He tenses, jaw tightening, and swallows hard. He looks away from Jax. Towards the bed. Towards the sleeping kid and not any of the awake ones. "I had a dream about you. By the way. Micah. You were using your van to snatch people off the streets and upgrade their limbs into newer /better/ limbs. Like some kinda fucking transhumanist terrorist. It was kinda awesome. Do you ever abduct people for the purposes of improving them with SCIENCE?" He's not really /attempting/ to wake Matt up, but he's not trying to stay not-sleep-disturbing quiet anymore, either. “I did notice you weasellin’ out of my question there, Jax. You okay?” Micah /eyes/ Jax for a moment. His attention isn’t drawn away until…ohgosh, Hive. “I really, really don’t think he’s an asshole, Hive. Maybe just…evangelically optimistic. I’ll talk to him about it.” The dream description has Micah’s eyes going wider and wider. Perhaps he’ll turn into an anime character. “Ohmygosh, that is incredibly horrible. No, none of that is okay! No medical procedures without informed consent.” Um…he might be taking this dream thing a little too seriously. "Persistent evangelism /is/ kind of douchebaggy, though," Jackson says with a crinkle of his nose, "I don't care if you're evangelizing your religion or evangelizing your /cheer/." He looks a little guilty at his own memories, head ducking as he unslings his bag to set it down beside Matt's bed. "It was a /dream/, honey-honey," he adds, wtih a quiet laugh. "I don't think nobody ever thinks you --" For a very brief moment /he/ is suddenly taking it seriously, too, smile fading and memories returning; bright lights, a scalpel descending towards his eye. But it's gone as quick as it came. Bright smile again! "-- don't think nobody thinks you kidnap people for /science/. Not even if it means transhumanist evangelism." Shed of his bag, Jax trots around the bed, fingers trailing against the railings of Matt's bed as he circles around towards Lucien's chair. "I'm giving out hugs, can I give you a hug? Or do I have to give Matt /two/." Because he has no doubt in his mind Matt will accept hugs. "Like a Jehovah's Witness of optimism. /I/ would have punched him." Lucien reaches over the screen of his laptop, shaking Matt's arm gently. (In Matt's dreams, his robo-lizard-mount wobbles unsteadily.) Shakeshake. "I would trade in for upgraded limbs. Though I would trade in for an upgraded brain sooner. Or perhaps just the whole package. I am not sure prosthetic brains are, ah, all that viable yet though." Jackson gets /eyed/ over the screen of his laptop. For a long moment there is silence. And then he closes the laptop lid with a thin press of lips, and lifts one arm. He's certainly not getting /up/ for this ordeal. "Do you punch Jehovah's Witnesses when they come to your door?" Hive snorts at this thought, amused. "Man, I feel bad for waking him, you know, he's having like this fucking /robot party/ up in there. I don't think my dreams are that interesting." His head rolls to the side, looking over at Micah. "What do you dream about?" The offered /hug/ earns a smirk. “I know…I just…between you guys and… I have family that… It’s kind of a sore spot, sorry. Didn’t mean to get touchy.” Micah is blushing faintly /and/ has pulled his hat off for the express purpose of fussing his fingers through his hair. He slides a half-smile back onto his face quite deliberately. “Can we have a no punching rule? Also, no…if you tried to get a prosthetic brain now, it would prob’ly run Windows. And…well…crashybrain. Not so good.” There’s that grin again! In answer to Hive’s question, apparently. “Electric sheep?” Jackson's brow furrows, a blip of worry crossing his mental plane. He gives Lucien a hug as promised, though! Tight and squeeze and then he is pulling away to not so much sit as kneel with one leg on a chair by Micah. He lifts a hand to absently straighten at the hair that Micah has mussed. "Sorry, honey-honey, don't think nobody woulda joked if we'd known it was a Thing." Though there's an internal wry amusement that does not detract from the genuine apology; << Maybe we just build up a kinda morbid humour about this. >> His fingers squeeze lightly at the back of Micah's neck after the hair-mussing. "Umm -- a no punching rule for game night or for life? -- also that's no good. I mean /look/ at him. He's all /sleeky/, if he had a cyborgbrain it'd definitely be a Mac." Lucien is stiff through the hug. He pats Jackson's back gingerly. "Are you accusing my brother of being a robot?" he wants to know, very seriously. His lips twitch slightly at Jackson's assessment of his brain. His fingers drum against the cover of his Macbook. "My brain may already be running Windows. I could use an upgrade." Matt is stirring, now, at all this conversation. His lizardride is over. He blinks, scrunching up his eyes and then looking at the people around him. "Oh." A slow smile curls across his lips. "Oh, hi. Wow, sorry. Have you been a -- have you been long? Here?" "Mnh. Sorry, man." Hive shoots an apologetic look to Micah. "Electric lizards. Hey, dude. What kinda war were you fighting? Looked serious." His apologetic look turns into a /frown/. "Can't have a no punching rule /on/ game night, game night is when all the violence happens." << Tch, well. You either laugh or you die. >> Maybe that should've been cry? Micah’s eyes are going wide again at everyone being so apologetic. “Ohgosh! Please, no, don’t be all sorry, I didn’t mean to…it’s just a… Sorry.” It takes him a moment to realise exactly what he just said, then he snorts a little laugh at himself. Because it is kind of ridiculous. And conversation is moving on, anyhow! “Ohgosh. That ad campaign. With the ‘Think Different’. If they made brains.” Micah claps a hand over his mouth to keep from giggling too loudly. But then Matt is awake! “Hello, Matt! No, not long. Good to see you.” He considers the punching question. “Pretty much no punchin’ ever? Unless someone is in peril?” Micah does not sound as if he is actually fighting for this rule. Just wishfulthinking. "You're apologizin' for us apologizin', honey-honey," Jackson feels obligated to point this out because it is kind of making him laugh. "Matt! Are you a robot? You /might/ be a robot, Hive said you was dreaming 'bout electric sheep. -- how about if we're in training? Or, like. If. Someone really likes being punched? Or if it's aliens, the kind that want to kill us all not the kind that -- oh, I guess that's already under 'peril'." Jax's nose crinkles up. He ducks down top open his bag -- it holds THREE games, Tsuro and Forbidden island and the Dixit box was Too Big so it is mostly just the Dixit cards and scorecounters tucked into a neater smaller bag. "OK so this one's apparently just /pretty/ but Flicker said it was good for people who aren't /really/ gamey so probably even Luci can play! Maybe without too much scowling." << Chortle at the kooky, >> his brain is singing. With images of a cheerful pink pony bouncing around laughing. "I am not playing," Lucien is saying, even though Matt is saying over /top/ of him, "Luci would be great at Dixit. I think he'd like Tsuro, too. He's playing." He is ignoring Lucien's objections. He pushes himself a little more upright, giving the others a wider smile. "But any of them'd be good! Which -- what --" His brain is kind of tired fuzzy; intermittently it is losing track of his words, stretching harder to find them again. "Can play. Whichever you like best, though. I /might/ be a Cylon. You'll -- have to -- check for yourself."
Micah sighs heavily, giving in to persistent /Jax/. "Okay, /consensual/ punchin' is fine, too. Trainin' counts as consensual. Consent and peril only." He perks at the game descriptions. "What's Dixit? How d'you keep managin' to find games I haven't played?" Micah asks, excitedly. "Um...umm...Matt. You /do/ know the easiest way to figure out if someone's a Cylon, right?" Micah's cheeks go redder with this. "Ponies!" It is required to squee about ponies when ponies are mentioned. Especially when one has all the ADD. "Oh, and the sheep comment was me. When Hive asked what I dreamt about. Not Matt." "How do you check for a Cylon?" Jackson wants to know, cheerfully curious. "And /yes/, OK, sometimes Pinkie Pie lives in my head. What /is/ Dixit --" Jax is taking the cards out to set them -- well, no, he /was/ going to set them on the table that swings out over Matt's bed but now he is just flipping through them with interest. "Oh my gosh these /are/ pretty!" He scoots his chair closer to the bed. "Prettypretty, uh, Hive, you know how to play this, right? Cuz I just took what Flicker said to take." Matt /blushes/ fiercely, dipping his head. "I -- I wasn't thinking about --" More blush. "/Do/ you dream of electric sheep?" He reaches over to take some of the cards, too. "I know how to play," he says quietly. "But, um, Hive --" He frowns, glancing at the telepath kind of apologetically. "I don't know if you -- /can/ play I mean you'd win every round, um." He fidgets a little uncomfortably. "I mean I could -- maybe we should play Tsuro." Lucien has still not officially /acceded/ to Playing Games, but he scoots his chair closer to the bed. To watch. "Fuck 'em," Hive says helpfully. "Do the nurses look down on that sort of thing around here?" His hand rubs at the back of his neck. He looks up at the ceiling. "At home Ian shields me from everyone. Everyone from me." He still studies the ceiling, kind of intently. "But you can. Do your thing. If you -- I think you're right. Seems like the best of the games for everyone. The pony was singing," he adds, for Micah's benefit. "Sometimes. I kind of...lucid dream a lot. And keep a journal. It helps you remember. Dreams are weird. Bad guys sometimes roll dice as a mode of attack because apparently that's how my brain works." Micah giggles at a memory of precisely that in a dream. "I will play whatever gets put out there. Just might have to teach me rules." There is /more blushing/ at Hive's explanation, which really didn't fully explain. And even more blushing because Micah feels the need to step in and describe more fully? "Um...every time a Cylon has sex on screen, their spine glows red." He is /so deliberately/ not looking at Jax right now. "They could have found the sleeper agents /so easily/ if they noticed that. I'm a little concerned that they /didn't/ notice that." Ohgosh, Ponies are safer for discussion! "Yeah, that's Pinkie. She...sings." "Your enemies roll dice? I think I like your brain," Jackson says, smiling. "Can you /learn/ to lucid dream?" Smiling turns into /blushing/ fierce and -- ohgoshfiercer at the /elaboration/. His eye widens. He sinks down to sit backwards in his chair, his face half hidden behind its back. "They -- glow -- when --" He might not turn un-red for a /while/. He is desperately trying /not/ to think of glowysex which really only makes him think of it more. His attention is very fixed on the Dixit cards. "Well, c'mon, how do /you/ attack? It's that or tap a lot of mana and cast something terrible." Matt explains this to Jackson like it is the most rational way to dream. He's still a little pink himself, though not quite as badly as the photokinetic. "Yeeeah. Wait, do you --" But he apparently decides he doesn't want to answer that. Just picks up the cards to start shuffling them. "You're more like Applejack, though, I think," Lucien tells Jackson. "Only, if Applejack were permanently on a sugarhigh. Apple-pie. Pinkie-jack." "Ffft I just mash the buttons a lot and hope for the best. Dream-me is panic-me. And yeah. He glows." Hive is reaching for a card at random to start to explain Rules but is stopped in his tracks by: "-- /You/ watch My Little Pony?" He blinks at Lucien, kind of dumbfounded. "But. /You/." "They do. Dice are the best means of brain-battle." Micah nods solemnly. "And yes. With enough journalin' an' such, people can figure out lucid dreamin'. I've been doin' it since I was a kid, though. So I didn't know it was unusual at first." Ohno. He has predictably broken Jax. If it makes Jax feel any better, Micah is now well on his way to face-on-fire, too. Matt's almost question and Hive's answer /anyhow/...so not helping. Lucien's Pony assessment finally brings him back from a never-ending spiral of blushing and hiding behind his hands. "You...Ponies. Enough to Pony-personality your friends. Ohgosh. I think I'm going to pass out from blushin' and shock now." Micah flops himself dramatically (but gently!) across that empty expanse that tends to build up at the foot of a bed. "You'll have to go on without me." Not that this is true. /Eventually/ someone will pick out a game. Geeking will happen. Lucien will probably get some on him, no matter how much he tries to keep his secret Pony-loving self above the fray. | |
