ArchivedLogs:Big Breakfast

Big Breakfast
Dramatis Personae Desi, Ion, Egg
In Absentia	2016-05-06 "Is it adventure?"
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. Even the middle of the afternoon, the day is so gray and dreary and cold that it feels more like March than May. It rains in fits and starts, though for the most part lightly. Just about anyone with an excuse to be inside is inside, but not the willowy young woman perched a bench in the gazebo. Dressed for the weather, Desi does not seem in the least bothered by the cold. She wears a thigh-length hooded corduroy coat that gathers quite fetchingly at the waist, its ornate brass buttons lending shades of steampunk aesthetic. The blouse beneath it is only visible by the pale pink ruffles gathered at her collar and cuffs, and she wears a dark purple handkerchief hem skirt over a lavender crinkle skirt, many-buckled brown boots visible beneath its lacy hem. She cradles a slim black thermos against her side and appears, at the moment, to be engrossed in her phone, both thumbs swiping rapidly. There's a scratching, a scraping, scrabbling at the path first and then the side of the gazebo. Sharp curved black talons hook against the floor, spindly clawed fingers scraping at the edge of the wood though they're doing a worse job of gripping than are the tips of the thin wings that have appeared first. Soon after, tiny blunt horns, drooping ears, huge bulging eyes peering up through the gap between floor and the bottom edge of the railing. Soon after that, nothing at all -- the head vanishes, claws scraping again but losing their purchase, a THUD soon following. Undaunted, the scrambling soon returns. Clickclickclick. This time, Egg manages to peer in at Desi a good few seconds longer before toppling. Desi did not look up quite in time to see her visitor save out of her peripheral vision. She stares at the side of the gazebo from whence the thud emanated, green eyes wide with--horror? Confusion? Turning slowly in her seat, she rises up onto her knees, swiping something else on her phone before lowering it to her side. "Who's there?" She stands up now, taking one hesitant step toward the source of the renewed scratching noise. When Egg pops up again, she heaves a relieved sigh that sort of morphs into a chuckle at the end. "What're you doing out here by yourself? Where's your papa?" She steps outside and circles around, lifting the tiny gargoyle carefully from the ground, mindful of their fangs. Egg is dressed, today, in green corduroy pants and soft grey flannel wrap shirt, both clearly custom fit for their unique anatomy. Together with this they have a very small leather kutte -- it lacks the full Mongrels insignia on its back, though it has a tiny (horned) (fanged) skull on its front (batwings in place of crossbones.) Where a rank patch would normally be it says instead: MONGREL PUP. The baby clicks quietly as Desi picks them up, tail curling around her arm and claws latching into the front of her jacket. They let go again shortly though, clawed hands moving to sign: 'Dad where where dad.' It's only right after this, though, that there's a heavy pounding of booted steps sprinting in from the direction of Birdhaus. "{Shit monster one day I got to put a /leash/ on you} too fast for me huh?" Ion -- in heavy jeans, heavy black boots, denim jacket with his own well-worn but well-tended vest over top, doesn't sound all that bothered in honesty -- kind of /proud/ of Egg's vanishing. "Ey-o, mamita, what /you/ doing all by youself out here?" Desi settles the child more securely in the crook of one arm so that she might free the other to sign, though that hand just ends up waving to Ion as he lopes into view. She turns so Egg can see, though with ears like theirs it seems /unlikely/ they would not hear or recognize their own father's voice. "I came by to hang out with Shane, but wanted to get my social media maintenance done before I went in. It takes a while." If she's embarassed by this or thinks it odd in any way, it certainly doesn't show. "This small breakfast food is getting /big!/" The next comment she addresses directly to Egg, "You're going to be /flying/ soon, no?" Then, looking back up at Ion as she offers the child back, "So, how're things going for you?" 'Flying flying flying. Flying now!' More excited with each repetition, this last seems more like a demand than an answer, insistent as Egg is turned back over to their father's care. Their wings shake out behind them as if /they're/ going to take out right then and there -- though afterwards they only curl back in, talons hitching in against the leather of Ion's kutte. Ion's cheek clicks against his teeth, his head shaking. "Little dragon, I only even /bring/ my land-bike today. You want flying you best get those wings working, huh?" His hand brushes gently down against one thin membrane. His head tips curiously, eyes dipping to Desi's phone, then back up to her face. "Yeah? Yeah-yeah? What's that take, like, you needa give a tune-up? On your social -- social -- how that's work?" He rolls his head back on his neck, one eye squinching shut as he casts a look in the general direction of Birdhaus. "Yo me /I/ doing just great I trynna collect your boy he /ain't/ being collected. Maybe you, you have better luck." Desi lifts a hand to her lips but doesn't quite cover her delighted smile at Egg's demand for flight. "Well, you're motivated enough! Will /really/ need a leash, then--like a little furry kite." With her hands free now, she tucks the phone back into a pocket of her coat. "It's...kind of like a tune-up, yes! Basically it's just seeing what's happening in people's lives, checking with those who need it, going through new events to see what interests me, reading responses and head counts for my /own/ events... Takes about an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening--less if I've had time to pick at it throughout the day." She follows Ion's glance toward Birdhaus, her smile softening. "I'll do my best! What're you collecting him for?" Her green eyes sparkle with mischief. "Is it adventure?" "Have to put some --" Ion keeps one arm curled securely around Egg but the other curls out, hand indicating some sort of wider buffer zone as his cheeks puff out. "Blow-up. Cushion. For 'em. So when 'ey bump along behind my bike is a comfy ride, huh?" Egg has no current answer for this, more engaged at the moment with gnawing on a silver stud on Ion's vest. "Shit-yo you make it sound like having that shit's /work/. You got any thing exciting cooking on there?" He's peering towards the pocket Desi slipped her phone into as if it might divulge the answer to him. His face breaks into a broad grin after, his own eyes lighting. "We /always/ got an adventure. /Way/ better one than lying mopey on the floor be drunk again. Boy needs some love, hermanita --" There's a pause, here. "... and then he needs some /action/." Desi's eyes grow even wider at Ion's description of the imagined addition to his bike. Possibly /she/ was not as serious as Ion about flying the winged child like a kite. "I'm sure B could come up with something...workable?" The last word sounds just a touch dubious--probably less out of doubting B's abilities as uncertainty at the wisdom of attempting it at all. "It's a /bit/ of a slog some days, but worth it. On my short list I've got a Dark Moon dance party tonight, a tree planting tomorrow morning, a march in the afternoon, community dinner after that, and on and on. But I'm game for unplanned adventures, too." She steps back into the gazebo and retrieves her book bag and thermos. "Alright, then. Let's go bring Thing 1 some love. And some action."