Logs:Amazement seized all of them, and they glorified God and were filled with awe, saying, “We have seen strange things today.”
| Amazement seized all of them, and they glorified God and were filled with awe, saying, “We have seen strange things today.” | |
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| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-09-07 "Who are you here about?" |
| Location
<NYC> Le Carrefour, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens | |
Above the bustle of the clerestory restaurant, tucked at the base of the bell tower, this indoor garden and library is out of the way and easily overlooked, sure to become a favored "hidden gem" of travel guides. Low bookshelves full of mythology, fairy tales, and folklore ring the central elevator shaft and the stairway spiraling around it like an easily navigable labyrinth. Beyond these are plants in a variety of tastefully whimsical containers, each with its own engraved plaque giving the common name, the scientific name, and their significance to various traditional stories and practices. The walls have been done away with so that the room extends beyond the doric columns into a surreal rooftop garden enclosed with glass stretching between the tower's massive buttresses. The arrangement of plantlife becomes less formal as one moves out into the four arms of the conservatory, visible containers giving way to beds and terraces and eventually landscapes carefully cultivated to look wild. There is plentiful seating scattered along the paths and just off of them, from proper benches to picturesque logs to surprisingly comfortable boulders. By day, myriad butterflies dance amongst the enchanted vegetation, and likewise moths by night. A shallow stream weaves throughout, feeding ponds that host plants of their own alongside fish, frogs, and turtles. Wandering the outer edges of the conservatory, one could almost feel lost in a mystical forest but for the stunning views of the cityscape beyond the glass. It's Saturday night, and while many of L'Entente's employees are in fact at work, most of them are catering to the schedules of the guests. Anahita's charges do not care what day of the week it is, and while the conservatory's climate control moderates the effect of the seasons to some extent, day and night make all the difference in the world to plants. She is not dressed for any heavy-duty gardening, though, in a purple linen blouse, dip-dyed blue pinafore dress, and soft slouchy brown leather boots, with a gauzy blue silk scarf draped loosely about her shoulders. She stands at the foot of the carefully contained banyan, examining one of the many epiphytes tucked into its obliging nooks. This Queen of the Night is thriving, and has produced several large buds that look like something not of this earth and, to the discerning eye, just about to bloom. Lucien has not long been back at the hotel. It's been long enough that he's fetched his dog and let her out for a brief pee break. He and Flèche are both returning to the conservatory now, she at an eager prance and he more sedately strolling behind. He's in a gray linen jacket over a leaf green button-up with the top button undone, crisp blue jeans, a black belt without any very obvious means of fastening, and black leather sneakers with white soles and three white stripes along the sides. His meandering path eventually fetches him up by Anahita. His hands fold behind his back, and his eyes have gone slightly wider as he hinges in at the waist to peer a little bit closer at the buds. "Mmm." It's all he says, but there's a definite delight in the sound. Anahita sinks down to pet Flèche, and looks back up at Lucien's commentary. "Mmm," she agrees. "Tonight, I think." She straightens and casts her gaze around the darkened conservatory, tracing the paths of soft fluttering wings where they catch the dim light. "Our moths are splendid, but well-fed and indolent. In case they should be remiss waiting on Her Nocturnal Majesty..." She produces a clean, capped paint brush from the front pocket of her dress. "I am ready to serve. But mostly, I am eager to see her bloom." "I ought fetch us some caffeine." Despite this, Lucien hasn't unbent himself from where he is yet giving wide-eyed and fascinated inspection to the nascent blossoms, "if we will be keeping vigil, tonight. ...do you suppose these things become more or less of a wonder, if you live only a few short weeks out of the pupa?" His head has been turning to glance at one of the passing moths, but his eyes crinkle slight and warm at their corners at the sight of the paintbrush. "I would have expected no less from you." He's only now straightening. He leaves Flèche to her pettings, and slips off. Maybe Lucien has really honed his Jeeves act it is not terribly long at all before quiet footsteps are returning. Alas, when they come into sight it is not Lucien with any refreshments -- just Leo, in a crisp black button-up shirt with a diagonal orange colorblock and the same orange on the inside of its cuffs, placket, and the underside of the slightly flared collar, fine-waled black corduroy trousers, and cognac dress boots. He's also wearing a faintly worried frown that cements itself apologetically into place when he sees Anahita. "Oh! Anahita." His voice is hushed, like perhaps the nighttime plants might be spooked awake by too much disturbance. "I am sorry, I didn't..." He's paused, vacillating, perhaps, on the verge of a further apology or maybe a retreat when he spies Flèche. The creases of his frown ease just a tiny bit. "-- Is Lucien here?" Anahita does not smile, but she gives a quiet hum of appreciation and inclines her head to Lucien's suggestion. "I think it depends on the moth. I will keep an eye out for the wondering sort, in case any should happen by." She perches on a row of prop roots cleverly trained around the base of the tree as a bench and smooths her hand absently over Flèche's head as she watches the nocturnal inhabitants of le Carrefour circulate. Perhaps it is by the dog's reaction that she is not too surprised the approaching footfalls do not belong to Lucien, but she does seem surprised that they belong to Leo. Her "Oh!" comes nearly at once with his, and a small smile, as well. "It is good to see you. Come, sit." She tips her hand at the expanse of conjoined roots. "Lucien will be back shortly. We are waiting for this strange and marvelous cactus to bloom." "Oh." This reassurance smooths out Leo's frown just a little bit more, but does not stop him from offering another quiet-murmured "sorry" as he moves to perch himself carefully on the roots beside Anahita. "I think every cactus is a little bit strange," he admits. He is peering curiously at the tangle of roots and the epiphyte within them. "Why is this one more stranger?" Anahita tilts her head and, after a moment of thought, concedes, "They are all a bit strange. But the Queen of the Night both loves and fears water. She is temperamental but adaptable. She blooms spectacularly and fragrantly, but only one night a year. Easy enough to keep, but hard to bring to fruit." She leans in a little, confidentially. "I will see it done, though, even if our moths miss their cue. Too early!" She gently chides a passing hawk moth, which hovers like a hummingbird near the yet-unopened flowers before buzzing away again. "Is something the matter?" Before she turns fully back to Leo, it may be possible to imagine she is still addressing the moth. "You seem upset." Now there is a Lucien, materializing from around the corner with a laden tray. There is tea on it, spiced and fragrant, amidst a selection of small spiced pastries and meze. He unfolds some short legs from the base of the tray and sets it down in front of the tree-bench. "Leo." He does not sound at all surprised to find a new companion here, and in fact the tea service has been set for three, not two. "Freedom has not settled your schedule any, I gather. All for the best, you've come on a very good night." "One night a year?" Leo sits up a touch straighter. His head tilts to the side, small and curious, and he's reaching down to bestow his own scritches on Flèche as he studies the flower with intrigue. "That is a lot of work to put into just the one display. How do you --" He cuts himself off when he feels Lucien approaching, and he is blinking, faintly mystified, down at the tray that has appeared. His brows draw slowly together as he studies the teacups, and then just as slowly back apart. "Anahita was telling me. Your strange cactus. How do you know when it will happen?" "It is a lot of work," Anahita agrees. "Other flowers bloom for days or weeks, but these eccentric royals often grow in little and poor soil, building their palaces wherever they can find a foothold. But, not to be outshined by richer neighbors, all the queens in a forest marshal their energy to put on a fabulous ball once a year, blooming all together on the same night. Their perfumed radiance and generous libations dazzle these winged courtiers, who usually dart so swiftly between their conquests." She sweeps her hand out at the moths fluttering through the semi-dark, "Drunk with nectar, they linger in each court to dance with each queen and carry their innermost secrets from one to the next." Anahita brightens at Lucien's return. "Thank you -- and now we have libations, as well. But however much we love the spectacle, neither the queens nor their lovers will tell the date of the ball. So we must watch closely, all summer long. See when she sets aside her other duties to brew her potion and spin her gown." She indicates without quite touching the long, serpentine sepals just barely starting to unfurl around the largest of the flower buds. "And then we wait patiently for the music to begin." Lucien's head inclines just-so, tipping towards Anahita for her explanation. He has settled himself on a flattish rock beside the tray, preparing three cups of chai with a quiet and practiced ritual to it. "We don't," is the answer he gives, when she has finished. He offers Leo the first cup, saucer perched like some delicate offering on the tips of his fingers. "Until it happens." Leo is listening, careful and very attentive, though there's the faintest hint of pinch at the corners of his mouth and eyes as he focuses hard on Anahita's words. It dissolves in a quick and grateful relief at Lucien's answer. He takes the cup with a soft puff of a laugh. "I was almost convinced you were going to tell me some secret magic you have for knowing..." This trails off as his looks between the teacups and back to his own. Though his quiet laugh has left a quiet smile on his face it's a hesitant one. "Sometimes you seem to know everything, up here." "Oh, I should not lead you on." Anahita bows her head slightly, though she does not sound particularly apologetic. "I wish I had some secret magic for knowing such things, but I make do with obsessive observation, dogged research, and many, many notes." She watches Lucien prepare the tea with a reserved smile. Then her eyes skip back to Leo, studying his smile. "He's another story altogether, but that magic extends well beyond these crossroads." Lucien's eyes follow Leo's as they trace between the cups. "I know everyone who comes through my hotel and much of their goings-on besides, but unfortunately that particular magic has yet to extend to cajoling the plants into divulging all their ways to me." He's offering the next cup to Anahita, and then sitting back, his eyes drifting off along the path of a large moth. "Mmm. Well beyond may be overstating the case these days, but if you have come here seeking information, I do occasionally still hear a thing or two from outside these walls." "Maybe that's it's own kind of magic." This time Leo's laugh is a little less anxious, a little more bright. He carefully plucks a flaky pastry onto a plate, bringing it to rest on his knees. "I -- did. I have." Once more he sounds apologetic about this, though it's probably reflexive because he's continuing ahead all the same. "I lost some friends. Several friends. It's getting a little bit -- very concerning. I thought -- sometimes you know about -- things." Anahita accepts her tea with a small bow and just holds onto it for a moment, enjoying the fragrance. "All their ways might be a bit overwhelming. It would be terribly convenient, though, if they gave me a heads-up on obscure feuds before anyone has to lose any leaves." She had been all this time keeping half an (obsessively observant) eye on the Queen of the Night, but at Leo's halting explanation her alertness indefinably shifts as if she had turned toward him, though she has not moved appreciably. "I am sorry about your friends." She does not hesitate, exactly, but pauses and concentrates ever so briefly. "Would you say that you lost them a week or so ago?" "Several?" Lucien arches an eyebrow. "Not at once?" He reaches for his tea, now, and he does turn towards Leo, studying the other man's expression thoughtfully. "Nine days, say. A lot of people seem to have gotten quite careless with their friends, round about that time." "Nine... days." This is a very small bit delayed and a very large bit bemused, in the wake of Lucien offering up that same figure. Leo's hands clutch tighter at his tea. His eyes have gone a little wider and there's just a hint of defensiveness creeping into his reflexive answer: "They misplaced themselves, I did not --." He cuts himself off a bit self-consciously here, with a small sag of shoulders. "Maybe. I do not know what -- where they -- I tried to --" After these first fumbling attempts at sorting through his current muddle he is frowning down at his drink, and then up at the others. "A lot of people? Who is missing? -- Who else?" Anahita does not fully remove her hand from her tea, but indicates Lucien with a splay of fingers in turn when he says "nine days". When Leo gives the same number she pulls in a deep if quiet breath, and takes a sip of her tea. "I can guess who you are here about, but very nearly all of the X-Men vanished. At once." Lucien is leaning just slightly back, propping one palm against the rock behind him as he takes a slow sip from his cup. He's looking past Leo and Anahita once more, to the blossoms still taking their slow (slow) time about awakening, but he does steal a brief glance to Leo's expression when Anahita speaks. "Who are you here about?" Lucien wouldn't have needed to steal that glance; at Anahita's words Leo sets his tea back down with a rattle that belies the abrupt unsteadiness of his hands. His expression has paled, too, breath pulled in sharp. "Oh --" He swallows, and frowns, and then swallows again. "Oh, I'd been trying to call Joshua. For help. I thought he just -- he can be hard to reach. Sometimes. I." He's laughing again, just a quiet unsteady breath, his head shaking. "No. No I was -- here about some other friends entirely. Where did the X-Men go -- vanishing from?" Anahita arches one brow ever so slightly. I am sorry that you found out this way. It had seemed like a highly specific event." Both brows draw inward now. "Perhaps not quite as specific as all that. Or as localized, at any rate, unless your other friends were also at Xavier's School last Thursday night." "Hadn't it, though?" Lucien's hand lifts to cup lightly against his face. This could well be obscuring some aghast expression, but when his hand pulls back downward there's a definite if mild amusement, there. He's leaning back forward again, focused as though he's just been delivered a particularly exquisite puzzle to focus on -- but then, maybe his attention has just been captivated by the slender tepals of the flowers in front of them, just beginning to unfurl their secrets. | |
