ArchivedLogs:Hopeful

Hopeful
Dramatis Personae Micah, Melinda, Tola
In Absentia	17 May 2015 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with wending channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. Yesterday's rains cooled things off a bit outside, and the sun is making an appearance today through lighter cloud-cover. It is still a touch /humid/, but the breeze is nice and has drawn Micah to the gazebo to sit and enjoy the sping-time weather. Though he's cleaned himself up, hints of dirt under fingernails and across the knees of his jeans betray that he might have been playing around in the gardens earlier. For now, he's resting Doctor Hooves Nouveau tee-shirt and jeans clad with a Thermos of mint lemonade, looking off at nothing in particular. Given the nice temperatures, Mel has decided to bring now toddler Tola out to a slightly more public venue for this lovely spring afternoon. It is an ordeal, as always, with one bag slung over her shoulder stuffed full of baby paraphernalia, while the other arm is keeping the child herself stuck to the young woman's hip. She wanders into gazebo to avoid the sun reddening her already pinkish skin. She blinks at Micah when she arrives and smiles in greeting, no longer asking permission to invade with a possibly noisy baby. "Hey, Micah. How's the day treating you?" She is wearing a plain greenish blue tank top over a wrap skirt that allows her to sit on the ground with ease. The blanket is spread out over the ground a moment later before she lets the toddler loose. Micah smiles and looks over to Mel and Tola as they enter. "Hey, y'all. Not bad. Early yet, but good so far. Breakfast and a little gardenin'. Takin' a break now." He lifts his Thermos cup in salute before drinking. "Got lemonade if y'want, but no extra cups out here. How's things been for you guys?" His other hand lifts to push hair off of his brow. "Oh, Tola's thriving. She's better in the sun than I am. I swear though, I'm still afraid that if I leave her in the dirt too long, she'll take root and then I'll have to carry around a pot along with her heavy ass." She finishes in a coo, capturing the child's feet as she lays on her back, and tickles her toes with her fingers. Tola is in fine health, her head covered with a multitude of petals upon petals, her usual white laced with pink petals and white petals that only have red edges. Her skin is a deep dark green, full of all the chlorophyl in the world. She is content for the moment to endure the tickling, which she giggles at, before she turns grabby hands toward Micah, babbling nonsense at him. “Wonderful. I'm sure the season change's been more'n welcome t'h--” The rest of the sentence is cut off in a sudden snort of laughter at the image of Mel hauling around 'Tola in a Pot.' “You'd hafta get a wagon. No helpin' it. She looks /good/, though.” Micah sets his Thermos lid out of child-grabbing range, offering his own hands out to Tola either to grab or to see if she's going for being picked up. "Yeah, well, that'll be a workout I don't know if I'm ready for." Melinda settles back on her bum and exhales quietly, lips twitching to one side as she studies the infant. "She's great. I really wish I hadn't worried this last winter and tried to sleep more. She's up every minute the sun is up now -- and then part of the night." Tola isn't content to stay where she is. She ends up rolling to one side and starting to search out something to do while she is there, crawling haphazardly over to the bag in order to start tugging things out of the bag. “Don't think she's lookin' t'stay set in one place any time soon, at least,” Micah comments with a chuckle, watching Tola rolling and crawling about. “Hopefully there's some good toys in that bag.” He nods at the reports of Tola's sunshine-induced behaviour. “Sounds a lot like Jax, honestly. Gets real worn down in winter, but come summertime he's fit t'/bust/ with all the extra energy.” "There's toys in there. I know better than to not bring her toys." Melinda shakes her head and reaches a hand in there to help her daughter find the ring on one of the many limbed chew/tug/interact toy. She sits back again once Tola drags out the green and blue and pink swirled object and puts part of it in her mouth and begins to nom upon it. "Good toys are overrated. All a kid really needs is something. Anything. It's magic and annoying. But anything will do, and usually the thing you least want in their mouth." Micah giggles at Tola's chewing. “It all depends who's saying 'good' most of the time, what they mean by it. Things that y'can chew on /definitely/ count as 'good' in my book.” He settles back into his seat a little, collecting his lemonade again now that it's safe. “How're things at work?” Tola turns to roll on to her back, engaging the object with her hands and feet. She begins to soak the toy with saliva, some of it leaking onto her onesie. She babbles a little as she does, attention shifting from the ceiling to the sun outside and then back to Micah. A now grubby hand turns toward him, as if unsure of distance. "Work is fine. I have college students a plenty now to fill out the ranks and keep the place afloat. I like it when the schools finally start to get out. It feels like the place is humming." She leans back, getting settled now that things seem to be quiet. "How about you? Is everything going well in the world of limb creation? Does that get uncomfortable in the warmer months?" Tola's reaching out earns a return-wave from Micah. “Sugar, your little arm ain't gonna hook up with me way over here 'less y'start growin' vines rapid-fire or the like,” he informs, a bit of laughter still finding its way through his words. He abandons his drink again to lower to the floor, reaching into the bag to find some sort of ring or rattle to dangle for the toddler. “Yeah, schools' terms are out soon enough. The craftin' ain't any worse in the summer. I mean, I do work from my van, but it's air conditioned, so that's no big deal. Summer can be problematic for prosthetic /wear/, though. For folks that sweat a lot. Gotta find ways to wick an' control that t'avoid skin breakdown.” "I'd be careful challenging her," Melinda replies, an eyebrow rising as she stares down at her daughter's hands, as if expecting vines to sprout forth. This does not happen, much to the relief of all. She leans over and snatches up Micah's cup a few minutes later, taking a quick sip of the lemonade. "Mmmm. Air conditioning isn't always what it's cracked up to be. Yeah, it helps, but it doesn't mean I want to cook any more or less in it. But I'm glad you don't find it troublesome." She nods for the rest of it, nowhere near an expert to comment. “Better she shows off new skills here, with us, than otherwise, ain't it?” Micah asks with a slight head-tilt back at Mel. “Not that I expected her t'be doin' it, but if she /did/.” His lopsided grin returns at the drink-theft, clearly with no objection offered. “Usually I'm just so pleased not t'be /cold/, it takes me a /minute/ t'be worried 'bout any kinda hot. Southern raisin' did it, I'm sure.” "You totally sound like you expect her to be!" Melinda counters with a small laugh, shaking her head. "Come on, Micah, I almost get the feeling most people are assuming she's going to explode into a more exciting body any moment. Isn't she fine he way she is?" She glances back to her daughter and sighs, wetting her lips. "Good, good. I'm glad that the heat doesn't bother you. Must be a perk of the job to work around heat so much." "I...don't actually have any expectations, t'be honest," Micah answers somewhat haltingly, giving the accurate implication that he's figuring that information out himself even as he relays it. "She's /perfect/ how she is. Clever an' healthy an' happy an' cute as a button." He nods along at the mention of heating perks. "I'll tell you, when I was still livin' in m'van, that first winter? Sometimes got motivated t'do work that involved the heat gun there in the middle of the night. /Do/ still wish somebody'd tell hospitals t'stop freezin' folks, though. Ever since I was little... S'just cruel, folks sittin' 'round in paper-thin gowns with paper-thin blankets. Though the /nice/ nurses bring you the blankets out of a warmer. The fact that they /need/ blanket warmers should still be a hint." Melinda purses her lips as she considers then shrugs, closing her eyes as she leans back on her elbows. "I was mostly teasing - but sometimes the joking speculation from people kind of makes me concerned. It's pretty harmless from friends and family, I think, because I know you guys love her no matter what, but other people have to be thinking some of the same things." She looks up at the ceiling. "But in a less hopeful fashion." Micah leaves off the rattle-shaking for a moment. “Yeah, it can... I imagine people're always gonna look at her an' wonder a bit what she can do. S'prob'ly the same for anybody who strangers can /tell/ have special abilities. An' some folks's gonna just be curious an' other're gonna be...less hopeful,” he appropriates Mel's term for lack of a better. “We've just gotta keep hopin' an' tryin' t'make things better in the world for her. S'all we can do. Other'n makin' sure she's loved an' cared for here, but /that's/ a given.” "Oh, don't worry. We're going to take care of the loving part." Melinda smiles and turns her attention back to the baby, tugging on one of the arms of the toy to make it vibrate in her hands.