ArchivedLogs:Clear Your Head

Clear Your Head
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Jackson	2013-06-02 '
Location <XS> Lake
Bright, bright, bright; the lake glitters wide and expansive here, stretching off into the distance. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, it catches them all. Lapping at the rocky shore, its deep waters are frigid in winter and cool even in summer. A stone pier stretches out a ways into the water, wide and smooth, though often icy in winter. The water teems with life nevertheless, home to myriad species of fish that provide for ample fishing or just lazy watching on a slow summer day, for those who want to take a boat from the boathouse out to the center of the lake, or perhaps lounge on the pier and try their luck. Aloke is near the lake, trying out a new angle for a new painting. He's been here since dawn, staring. Staring. But very uncharacteristically, his canvas is blank. After 2 hours of watching, its still just blank. There have been little signs over the last few days, mostly noticeable since the ant attack, but even after he got home from taking the kids to the art show. Aloke had 'laughed' when he told Jax about the useless asshole who tried to trip Shelby, and having to keep his cool in front of the kids. But Aloke has been showing signs of stress. He looks tired, the light in his eyes a little dimmer, and one time, Jax may have even spied a slight tremor in Aloke's hand when he lifted off a sketch page. Aoke has hands like a /surgeon/. There should be no tremor. And his canvas should not be blank, even if it were just braod sketch marks to frame the piece, there should be /something/. So he's sitting out here with a folding chair AND a folding stool. He likes the chair for pondering, and the stool for actual work. He's lounging in the chair now. Thermos at hand. He's wearing jeans, and his favorite paint-stained shirt, unbuttoned, just hanging open in the warm morning. It's going to be a humid spring-summer day today. It's early yet when Jax makes his way down towards the lake. He's been out, though, it seems like -- he's in /slacks/ and a dress shirt, at least, though it has since been unbuttoned at the top two buttons and its cuffs unbuttoned, too. He doesn't immediately offer a greeting. He has a thermos in one hand and a plate in the other -- a pair of muffins on it. He drops into a crouch by Aloke's chair, offering the plate up towards the other man. Berry, with a light cinnamon-sugar glazing on top. Good morning have a /sweet/. Jax looks at the blank canvas with every bit as much thoughtful consideration as if it /did/ have a painting on it. Aloke looks up when he notices Jax in his periphery and forces a smile on his face. "Oh hey, Jax. Look at that, thank you," he says, /sounding/ genuinely appreciative, even if his smile is strained. He takes a muffin, and then gestures with it at the canvas. "Like my latest? I call it: 'All White'." "Mmm," Jackson considers this, settling down to sit on his heels, kind of /bouncy/ even in his crouch. Toes bobbing against the stone. "I don't know, I don't think it's evocative enough. I'd call it," he considers the canvas a while, "'Preoccupation', maybe." He sets the plate down beneath Aloke's chair, and opens his own thermos to let the hot coffee inside start to cool enough to drink. "Or maybe 'Trials'. You know," this is kind of offhand-light, his eye still focused on the canvas, "I'm an illusionist. I am basically the /master/ of faking smiles." Aloke nods and lets the smile evaporate in a sigh. He twitched at each of Jax's keywords, a little flicker of one eyelid. "I keep trying," Aloke says. He stands, and moves to the stool, picking up the sketch pencil he left there. "But every time its this..." He approaches the canvas with the pencil and it starts to shake. Not violently, but more than enough to be noticeable, and far outside an acceptable margin for someone with hands like his. "I don't get it..." His voice is quiet, maybe even truly baffled as to why this is happening. He still looks like he hasn't slept - bags under his eyes, skin a little ashy. Jackson is quiet as he watches this, nibbling at his muffin. He rises when Aloke approaches the canvas, reaching one hand out to rest his fingers gently against the back of Aloke's trembling hand. "You know, the first time I went through -- a patch of chaos it took a while before --" His hand drops, eyes shifting from canvas to Aloke. "Well, I don't know, painting always helps me decompress, a lot? But sometimes I need to take a bit and actually work through exactly /what/ I'm decompressing." Aloke swallows hard and takes a deep breath, leaving his pencil back on the easel. "I mean, it doesn't seem like I have anything to complain about. We /got/ all the kids back from that place. Everyone made it back from the ants. Even refrained from punching that-" Aloke's voice gets hard and his fists ball up as the anger bubbles up to the surface out of nowhere. His whole body shimmers as he very nearly flickers, but he stays put. It's so out of character for him. Aloke has talked about his Hindu faith with Jax before. A vegetarian pacifist - the violence and anger are so out of character for him. Jackson's hand lifts again, this time to Aloke's shoulder instead of his hand. There's a brief squeeze following that brief shimmer. "Aloke, honey-honey, you've had a whooole lot of horrible shoved at you in kind of a small space of time to deal with it. And it /is/ a whole lot of horrible. We're supposed to look after these kids and it ain't /easy/ to deal with the world being terrible at folks you've set your mind on watching out for." His brow creases slightly, watching Aloke with careful consideration. "-- What /do/ you do? When things get stressful?" Aloke blinks, and puts an appreciative hand on top of the hand on his shoulder. Sort of squeezing, sort of desperately holding it there like he might spin off without it. "I used to go for long... uh, trips," he waggles his free hand to show he doesn't really know the right word for his light beaming trick. "Or do yoga. I'm actually pretty good at that, did you know?" He sighs and shakes his head. "But I haven't done either since I got here. I mean, I went to Paris once, but that was before everything went..." Another hand gesture. He doesn't have a word for it. "You know, back, uh, when I used to have some free time," Jackson says with a quiet laugh, "I volunteered some with the Red Cross. Disaster relief. You see a lot of people going through a lotta tragedy. And people get tempted to kinda -- stop, you know, hide out, but what we tell them is. Get back t'your normal routine of things soon as you can. And you can go -- see a therapist or punch a punching bag or whatever helps but the /normalcy/'ll help too. Make you feel less /stuck/. You --" His hand squeezes again, lightly. "-- I ain't much good at yoga but you want to maybe hit the DR and unwind with some for a while? Somewhere -- quiet. Meditative. Clear your head and /then/ set about trying to tackle all the chaos." Aloke nods, finally pulling /in/ a deep breath, rather than just collapsing into another sigh. "That's good advice, thanks." He turns and hugs the other man tight. He stands back, one hand on Jax's shoulder still. "I mean, I really needed to hear that. You know, you get in your own head for too long, you just end up going in circles." He glances over his shoulder as if seeing the beautiful morning for the first time. "Actually, I think yoga would be outstanding right here. But I really oughta do a lap around first. Shake out the cobwebs. You wanna come?" His whole body shimmers again, maybe in anticipation of going, or just to make it clear he does /not/ mean jogging. Jackson returns the hug -- actually not uncomfortable anymore; sans the stress of his missing children his temperature has calmed down to still-warm but not excessively so! "Yeah, I know that feeling," he says with a crooked smile as he steps back. "And I think we get so focused on the kids sometimes it's easy to forget that -- this stuff's stressful for /us/ too. Might be helpful to actually focus on the things that make /you/ grounded for a while. And m'always here," he adds, "if you need to talk." He looks out at the lake, and a quick smile curls his lips. "Oh, man. I would /love/ to." If anyone noticed the two talking by the lake, but blinked, they could miss their trip. A flicker, only a fraction of a second, and they're back. Aloke gasps a laugh and leans over, hands on knees. From their point of view though, the trip existed in this surreal place of all-time and no-time. It felt like hours, and instantaneous at the same time. Swooping over the surface of the earth at light speed, the occupants of which all frozen in space-time as Aloke guides them around in a 'lap' as he calls it, covering the circumference in that flicker of a moment. They fly through farms and cities and towns. Over oceans, through night, and back to day again, before Xavier's grass is under the feet once more. "Oh man... was it as good for you as it was for me?" The look of out-of-breath-relief on his face is unmistakable. Jackson just laughs -- bright and kind of exhilarated, briefly leaning against Aloke before dropping back to sprawl on his back in the grass. "Aloke, y'can take me for a ride /any/ time."