Logs:Untangling

Untangling
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Matt, Ryan
In Absentia	2020-03-04 "I guess a lot of people will be needing more at home entertainment soon."
Location <PRV> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. It's the middle of the day in the middle of the week, and despite the chilly overcast the city outside is bustling with the lunch rush. Here inside it's warm and bright, even with the extra lamps recently added to the living room off. Matt's laptop sits closed on a tray table beside his chair, beside a rig that appears to be a large, sleek tablet propped upright and idling on a video conferencing software client screen. On the coffee table fresh tea and desserts are laid out, and one very forlorn pup lies beside it, eyeing the bounty and heaving periodic sighs when someone looks her way. Matt himself has just settled back into his armchair, pulling a soft fuzzy sage blanket over his lap, though underneath this he is fully dressed in an orchid oxford shirt, purple-and-silver paisley tie, silvery-green satin vest, and charcoal gray trousers. His fuzzy pink house slippers strike a rather whimsical contrast with his smart work clothes. He looks pale and drawn, and though he still has a full head of hair it's dull and limp. His entire aspect brightens just a little, though, when he picks up one of the mugs and cradles it close, inhaling the smooth milky aroma of the jin xuan oolong. From behind Lucien's closed bedroom door there has been rather a cacophony. Not, so much, the pleasured gasps and moans -- on balance these have been kept reasonably muffled. The murmurs of conversation (warm) (breathless) (amused), rippling up in the pauses between -- these are quiet, too. What comes thicker, riotous, jangling at Matt's senses, is the tangled-thick weaving of Lucien's power hard at work. Stretching and straining -- keeping his own neurochemistry very carefully even and balanced even as he works intimate delights with his companion's. Below and through the more playful strands, though, is a more careful shifting. Tweaking. Gently re-threading and re-aligning at the frayed and fractured pathways through Ryan's mind, a slow and careful work that builds on itself gradually. By the time the shower has run (and run -- and run) and the door opens again -- right about when the tea is ready -- the noise hasn't quite died down, but it has come to a slight lull. Lucien's hair is still damp; he is comfortably dressed in well-tailored dark jeans and a forest green slim-fit seersucker button-down. "Goodness, you'd think she were starving." He is settling himself down into a corner of the couch, reaching for a mug of tea. Ryan is trailing in Lucien's wake, barefoot in black skinny jeans and just tugging on a soft tee shirt with a colorful chimaera logo rampant across the chest. He drops himself down on the couch, too, draped long across it, slinging one leg over its arm and resting his head on Lucien's lap. "Please, she probably thinks she's won the jackpot. All her cajoling finally paid off and she's convinced Matt to stay home with her after all. Finally seeing things her way, huh?" Where Matt's power had steadily bolstered his brother's before it now eases off, his weariness sensible to Lucien. "She has the right of it. And Luci, also--I *have* been awfully cruel to her," he admits, his tone light and easy and entirely absent of contrition. "I have given her no pastries whatsoever." He settles back into the chair, curling his legs up beneath himself. "And after she gave me such help with my lessons, too." He takes a sip of his tea, a smile spreading slow behind the brim of his cup as his eyes light on Ryan. "If you stick around long enough to say hi, it would make my students' day." "Help? Well. I suppose she does know quite a bit of magic." Lucien's eyes close, a heavy weariness in his own mind that does not carry through at all to his voice -- just light, just warm. He has been cupping his tea in both hands but now he drops one to trace lightly against Ryan's forehead. "Mmm. If you give them a pup and an impromptu concert you might temporarily claim top spot for this week's coolest teacher. It is," he confides solemnly to Ryan, "a rare opportunity for him. You ought to assist." There's a brief twitch -- thin, small, at the side of Ryan's mouth. "Please. Been a good while since I could play anything worth listening to. But if you think it'd brighten some days --" He shrugs a shoulder, his eyes closed. "Does cancer win or lose you points there? Though I'm guessing the favorite-teacher rankings get all kinds of jacked up when everyone's doing Zoom classes." "Mmm, I don't think I get points for the cancer until I lose this." Matt turns one hand up, fingers elegantly splayed to indicate his hair. "Probably about that time, anyway. I'll not condescend to you about how well you are playing, especially given I haven't heard you try in a while." He settles his mug against his chest, both hands wrapped around it. His power where it's been twined quiescent into Lucien's stirs again, sluggishly--though without the jerky instability of overuse--making adjustments to ease his brother's weariness while subtly assessing Ryan's nervous system. "But if you feel so moved, you could sing a few bars." His green eyes light up suddenly. "Oh, how about a duet? You could autotune me. It'll be very *retro*." Ryan's neurochemistry is still very much a tangle; the places where fraying connections or knotted-up pathways still in clear evidence. It is less a tangle than it was an hour ago, though, and much less a tangle than it was several months ago before Lucien set about slowly chipping away at the damage. His own brain -- sluggish, too, slightly on the fritz with overwork -- is starting to waken itself back up as he sips at his tea. Threads his mind carefully back through Ryan's, carefully tidying and bolstering the loose ends of his handiwork. "He undersells himself. I have heard him try. Therapy is doing wonders." A small smile tugs at his lips. "Have you a duet in mind? This, I would love to see." Ryan exhales slowly. Presses up into Luci's touch. "It didn't fucking feel like it was doing shit for ever. Thank fucking God for Shane or I'd have blown all the work I had left. He's really something else these days, though. Think he did better with "Stop for Death" than I would have." A slight weariness has been creeping back in to his previously relaxed mental landscape, but it doesn't get a chance to really sink in. "Has been getting better recently, though. Just -- guess I'd started getting used to the idea that --" He shakes his head abruptly. Sits up, grins hard and bright. "Oh! How about "Stranger"? Sort of commemorative, since y'all," he's nudging Luci lightly with a shoulder, "are about go dark. Can't do it your justice, but kids should know what they're missing." "I'm so glad it's working," Matt says softly, taking another sip of his tea. "Shane is wonderful, to be sure, but I'm still looking forward to some dueling fiddles between you two." Smoothly, with the ease of long practice, his power weaves through the exhausted efforts of Lucien's, a strong and sure harmony. His next words, when he lifts his voice in song, are somewhat less mellifluous, half an octave lower than Lucien's rendition of the fawn's words, unsteady and pitchy, "If so you say, surely it's true; but I am no stranger, no stranger than you!" Tuneless or no, Matt's singing still puts a smile on Lucien's face. He plucks a cookie from the plate and settles back against Ryan's side, draining a longer swallow of his tea. "I wish the rest of them would follow suit. It is a hard sell, though. Certainly --" His eyes flick for only the briefest moment to Matthieu, "not a decision we made lightly." His nibble at the side of the cookie is prim. "They won't have to miss it entirely, though. With any luck it will be cleaned up and available for streaming soon enough. That was no easy sell, either. -- When is your class? Ought I put on another pot of tea?" Halfway through Matt's off-key singing there's a ripple, sensible to Matt even before its effects are clear enough to Lucien. Matt's singing shifts, distorts; not just on-key now but with an added eerieness to it. A distant background echo of an ocarina harmonizing with the melody, a soft rustle of wind through leaves, a rippling gentle chill that tugs brief and longing at the others. "Huh." Ryan swings his legs around -- alllmost down in front of him, even! Though one ends up half-draped across Luci's lap. "I guess a lot of people will be needing more at home entertainment soon." He sounds briefly thoughtful, but then just smiles. "I got a little time. Let's do this."