Logs:Fumbling Together

Fumbling Together
Dramatis Personae DJ, Grace
In Absentia Bryce, Dallen, Dawson	2025-01-05 "-- you look like my sister, too."
Location <NYC> The Refuge - Staten Island
The swath of destruction that the dimensional anomaly carved here in 2020 has been swept away and transformed into a large compound, practically a neighborhood in its own right. Much of the grounds are given over to meticulously landscaped parkland. Here are manicured gardens abutting half-wild groves, playgrounds and playing fields, a swimming pool as well as a fishing pond, and even a few acres of farmland. The residences, from the founder's house to the miniature arcologies and the slightly larger guesthouse, are styled like abstract beehives. So, for that matter, is the vertical hydroponic farm that produces far more food than the earthbound fields. In fact, there is a great deal of beehive imagery throughout, and even absent specific styling, hexagons are still more common than squares or rectangles in the construction of spaces and objects, all of which are thoughtfully designed with an eye toward community and comfort. At the heart of the Refuge is the meetinghouse that crowns the hill where the 121st Precinct once stood: architecturally distinct from most LDS houses of worship, this one looks from afar like an abstract sculpture of a conch shell in gleaming white quartzite. The floor plan is built on a Fibonacci spiral with a relatively gentle rise in elevation for the first four quarter-arcs before shooting up into a steep organic spire that can be seen for miles around. Services have not been long out. This Fast Sunday has attracted a larger number than usual of new and curious faces -- mostly inquisitive from other wards in the city though at least a couple are not (yet) Mormon at all. The cadence of the testimonies shared does not, actually, veer so very far out and radical as one might expect given this place's reputation through the rest of the Church -- quite a lot of it is the usual and somewhat samey, passionate andor awkward praise, passionate andor awkward explanation of how very much the Church has transformed their life. There is, though, running through these testimonies, a decided bent not specifically heard elsewhere -- from a young trans woman, from a lanky teen with thick lavender fur, from a pair of ragged youths just washed up last night who look like they haven't had many decent meals lately. No less awkward, for sure; no less passionate, either, in the gratitude for finding a place that has not cast them out. DJ himself, blandly dressed in a simple navy suit (one empty sleeve pinned neat at his side), didn't speak, could easily be missed in the crowd, but even so he's been somewhat heavily accosted in the immediate aftermath of services. Normally this would be when people filter off to lunch but today Next Meal will have to wait. He's just now extricating himself from a cluster of questioners to scan the dispersing group with a sort of hopeful expectance. As the crowd around DJ begins to thin, there is Gracie, one arm reaching across her body and tugging at the other sleeve of the eggshell cardigan draped over her olive blouse. In another time and place, her taupe trousers might have seemed like a deliberate choice, but they look less remarkable here and now. She meets DJ's gaze with a smile and a small wave, walking over as she finds a gap in the congregants. Her arms come up, seemingly instinctively, a few degrees, before falling back to her side uncertainly. "Thanks for...well. I know everyone is invited," she glances towards some of those who just bore their testimonies, "but it's nice to see. You've really -- I mean, it's much more vibrant than the YSA ward," she laughs. DJ, too, has a brief awkward hitch of his arm at his side, starting to lift and then dropping. His smile is warm, eyes skipping past Gracie to those congregants still leaving. "Thank you. For coming. I really am so glad to see you here, I wasn't sure if --" There's a very faint pinkening, half obscured by his beard but still visible above its neat-trimmed edges. "Vibrant. I really like that. It's a lot politer than what some people are saying." The skin around Gracie's eyes tightens briefly, her gaze dropping just a fraction before she looks back at his eyes. "I'm sorry if I gave off the impression I don't --" she says in a rush. "A lot of it is just work, it's so overwhelming as a first-year, but it's also just been hard to know how..." This pause stretches before a halfhearted shrug. "Believe me, I've heard a lot of them," she laughs again, her voice steadier on more certain ground. "Honestly, after all that, it felt more familiar than I was expecting, for all it's..." she waves a hand toward the lofty building. "I know. It's -- I'm still trying to figure out how --" DJ swallows, and lets this fall into silence. His posture eases with Gracie's laugh, his own soft smile echoing the humor. "People have a lot of wild ideas about what we get up to in here. I honestly worry the reality's a little boring. We aren't trying to throw out our beliefs, we're trying to live up to the kind of compassion and community we've always claimed to value." He's looking upward with the wave of Gracie's hand, glancing above to the elegant spire, and dropping his voice to a mock-conspiratorial hush to add: "Okay, I'm maybe trying to throw out some of our beliefs but -- really just when it comes to uninspiring building design." "I can see that part's working," Gracie says, and this smile is full and bright. "Bryce and Dallen seem really comfortable here, and back home..." They're both looking up now, and she chuckles again at uninspiring. Perhaps it's easier to say without looking at him, because Gracie is admitting, softer, "You should know that -- I don't go to church much, lately. I went up through college but it's been...complicated for a long time and only gotten. More so." Perhaps it's lucky that it's unlikely anyone can see, because Grace's eyes are shining a bit more than before, but the drop in the pitch and volume of her voice is telling regardless. "I don't know if I know how to untangle -- our beliefs -- from everything that made it feel. Hard." "I've been really glad to be able to give them a space." DJ nods, quiet, as Gracie speaks. "Complicated," he echoes, soft and without judgment. "I hear that a lot. I'm not -- here to pressure anyone to stay in a space that they don't feel comfortable in, but if you want to try -- untangling." His shoulder hitches, swaying slightly at his empty sleeve. "It's something we've been doing a whole lot of thinking about, here." He is lowering his gaze, though he still isn't entirely looking back at her, but out now at the mostly-empty meetingroom. "-- also, moving across the country is tough and New York is pricey. You're welcome to come have a meal with us whenever, no matter where you land with -- complicated." "I'm sure you do -- oh, it's silly, I must sound so dramatic to you when people who've been through so much come here because of that. It's just hard telling you, because..." Gracie lets out a shaky laugh. "Crap." She braces herself, looks at DJ apologetically. "Sorry, I don't want to make this weird, but to explain..." Her eyes fall on the pulpit. "It's like, nothing's happened to me but this is where I'm at, and I've wondered if. My brother would think I'm not strong enough." She swallows, pinching at the hem of her cardigan. "That's for me to work through, though!" Gracie says quickly, some forced cheer seeping into her voice. "Yeah. I -- I'll come by sometimes, I think. I need to see Bryce and Dallen more too. I don't want us to be strangers." "I know," DJ says gently, and a little softer: "-- you look like my sister, too." He draws in a slow breath. "I don't know if it's entirely true that nothing -- I mean, I think that growing up with it hovering over you that your community might --" He hesitates; his arm wraps around his chest, fingers scrunching at his opposite sleeve before he tries again. "I think there's a lot of reasons people don't feel at home here, and most of those reasons aren't weakness." When he smiles again it's smaller, but no less warm. "Oh, I bet they'd be thrilled. Iiii can't say they won't be a little pushy about you coming more, though. They're --" His voice is fond. "-- very earnest." This time Gracie is able to look at DJ, her mouth opening a little in realization. "Oh gosh, yeah, I hadn't really thought through --" Her hand is raising again in his direction, but she again lets it fall, though a little slower this time. "Our parents were different, with those two, maybe it would --" Gracie's eyes widen a little as she stops herself. "Wait. Do you -- can your sister..." She's looking at her right fingertips now, curling them loosely into her palm and then pulling her hand into her stomach. She swallows. "I'm just glad they're themselves. Might even make it feel like home for me." "At home all my siblings carried the X-Gene, but only about half of us had manifested. Including Dinah." DJ follows Gracie's gaze, his dark eyes watching the curl of her hand. "I think they're still figuring out what themselves means. I think a lot of us are. I'm kind of hoping that fumbling for answers together is a little easier than doing it alone." "Oh," is all Grace says, her fingers now pressing down into her palm and making her knuckles whiten, her hand quivering a little despite the brace of her torso. She places her other hand on top; with her head slightly bowed now, it doesn't look so far from prayer. "I did really well not...acting on it," she says quietly. "But maybe I have some figuring out to do, too." This smile is small and wry, not like her usual positivity, but these words are still affirmative enough. "Fumbling together...could be nice."