ArchivedLogs:Cupcake Quest

Cupcake Quest
Dramatis Personae Heather, Rasa
In Absentia	2017-02-11 "Jax's cupcakes -- they were a staple when I was going to school. They are amazing."
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. It's Saturday evening, and the herd of reporters that have come to sink their teeth into the story of Jax Holland and Ryan Black has still not let up, made hungrier by the silence of the residents. They hover near outside the gate, and one is calling at the wild-haired girl who stands silently staring at them through tinted goggles. "Excuse me! Excuse me miss! Do you know Jackson Holland! Do you know Ryan Black! Excuse me!" Heather is toying with a pen in one hand anxiously, her movements looking off, like someone caught in fast forward. The strap of her messenger bag rests over her thick faded purple hooded sweater, and her pants look out of the early 90s, coloured in red and blue with music notes on them. The young woman doesn't seem to quite notice that she is being talked to, even though she is looking in the direction of the reporters. She pops open the notebook in her opposite hand and jots down a few notes rapidly enough that she seems to be filling the page by magic. Rasa comes up beside the group of reporters and scowls at them. Dark, black on black eyes narrow, hir gray flesh pulling tight across hir face. It's hard to see, as ze is bundled up against the chill in the air. The impending rain is making the wind bitter as it slices through layers of clothing. Ze grumbles and steps back, peeling off hir boots and ties them together, cold toes squeezing together against the concrete. The bootlaces are flung around hir neck after hir mittens are stuffed in hir pockets. Then, like a flash, ze climbs up the surrounding wall to perch for a moment, making certain to adjust hir face to something recognizable for a nearby camera. While ze hangs out up there, ze peers over at Heather. "Taking notes?" This is baffling to hir. Heather lifts her goggles up from her eyes and looks up towards Rasa for a moment with a flat expression. She swaps her pen and journal out for the tape recorder in her messenger bag, makes a few chirping sounds and then plays on the device, "Yes. I am taking notes on their behaviour. It is only fair." She hits pause, furrows her brows for a moment and then hits play again, "I am getting tired of them. They are making it difficult to come and go. I have had to send Paige to get me things." Rasa casts one more glance toward the reporters and slips down the inside of the wall, settling into a crouch to lessen the impact. Ze straightens and glances around and starts to pull hir boots back on. "Makes sense, I suppose. Have you named them all? I mean, if you're watching them, you've got to name them after a while -- if only to differenciate between them." Ze peeks over hir shoulder at the gathered crowd before asking, "which one is Bob? Do you have a Bob? Also, George is a good throw away name." "Yes. I have named them. I have only given them letter designations though," replies Heather through the recorder. "I feel like giving them proper names would make me empathize with them too much. But B is not here right now. And G is that one." She points at the reporter who is still trying to talk at Heather on occasion. The pointing (and acknowledgement of his existence) re-emboldens, even though the gates are too far for him to hear what Heather has to say. She lets out a quick squeaky sigh and plays, "You seem to have a better strategy than I do for getting around them at least. I am concerned about hurting them while pushing through." "You burn hot or something? Because I'm sure an alternative means could be devised if you were not unable to be in close proximity to people." Rasa pulls hir mittens out of hir pockets and stuffs hir hands into them. "Though, not fully sure your strategy for getting to the reporters is working. They can walk away and know that. Our kind will always be subject to attention we can't walk away from. They're not going to know how we feel." Ze draws in a deep breath. "I be there's some awesome cupcakes in the kitchen -- now that Jax is back. You wanna get some? I have been craving his baking for months." "I do not burn hot. Though I produce body warmth at a faster rate. Time works differently for me. Which causes momentum problems," plays Heather. She nods a few times rapidly and says, "I did not think I would get to them. But it is interesting to know their habits." The young woman pauses a moment and then starts working a tangle out of her hair while the recording plays, "Correction. It is marginally less boring than doing nothing." With a flick, the goggles are lowered back down over her eyes and she plays, "I am new here. But I have heard rumours of Jax's cupcakes. Let's get some, absolutely." "Time, eh? Eesh. That's gotta suck." Rasa waves Heather after hir as ze turns to head toward the main house. "M'Rasa. I crash here a lot. I'm kind of a resident, but I also have an apartment in Brooklyn with my person." Ze rearranges hir backpack as ze stuffs hir hands in hir pockets as they walk. Ze's wearing clothes a little too big for hir, but they at least look warm. "Welcome and all that." "Yes. It can suck. Time moves five times slower for me which has many corollaries. I am extremely productive but everything requires patience," plays Heather on the recorder, taking many very small quick steps to keep the same pace as Rasa. "I am Heather Brown. Codename: Timeslip. She and her pronouns. I appreciate the welcome." She shifts her messenger bag over to her other shoulder as she walks, offering a wave back towards G as she leaves him to his devices. "Do you spend more time here or in Brooklyn?" "Oh. Um. Ze. Hir. Pronouns." Rasa looks alittle uncomfortable as ze scuffs hir hand through the hair at the back of hir neck. "I don't know. Vanya works nights, so he isn't always there anyway and I work at Evolve, so it's easier to crash here, but when I know he's going to be home, I am there. I don't know if I can quantify it. I'm just sort of wandering between homes." Ze holds the door open when they arrive, tilting hir head to one side. "What do you do -- for work and the like?" Heather zips through the open door when it is opened for her, looking back to Rasa, "Sometimes I flip things for extra cash. Usually I help young people do math. Over the internet. I find any other task based work I can do online and complete it. I advertise for urgent data entry work. The problem with conventional jobs is that nobody wants to pay by twelve minute periods, and nobody wants to employ someone who needs to take a one hour nap in the middle of the day." She shakes her head and puffs out her gaunt cheeks in annoyance at the thought. "It sounds like you have a good thing going, regardless of which home you are in at any given time. You work at Evolve? I have heard of it. Paige likes it. She's my roommate." "Yeah. I think I do. Fairly decent, all things considered -- and I was able to pick things up after being gone for so long." Ze starts taking off layers before leading the way to the kitchen, talking the entire time. "Now, Jax's cupcakes -- they were a staple when I was going to school. They are amazing. There is no one flavor, though. Usually there are two or three different types and ... oh man, I can't wait." "You were gone for a time? I only moved here from St. Louis last month so everything is new for me." Her short laugh just sounds like an impossibly high-pitched chipmunk giggle. "I have heard legends of these cupcakes before," admits Heather, "But now that I know they may be close at hand it feels more real." Once the pair arrives at the kitchen, Heather starts peering around and investigating for any sign of these storied baked goods.