ArchivedLogs:Disengage

Disengage
Dramatis Personae Micah, Hive	14 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> The Unicomplex - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Flicker and Hive split the basement in this apartment; coming down the stairs emerges into an open expanse of shared space, with a pair of desks on opposite walls and large cabinets holding an enormous library of board and card games. The bookshelves here are packed predominantly with sci-fi and fantasy as well as a mass of roleplaying sourcebooks. The walls are eclectically decorated. A replica of Arya Stark's Needle, a few bright-colored but anachronistically somewhat morbid paintings of Jax's, a Mega Man X poster, a stained-glass suncatcher hung in the window and a collage of feathers framed on one wall. Up near the ceiling there's a large square hanging frame strung with netting -- a nearly ceiling-wide sort of hammock though it's hard to immediately discern how to access it. A side door leads to the bathroom, small but neat in pale stone tile. Towards the back there are walls dividing off the actual sleeping areas, tiny-cosy rooms mostly only large enough for the bed-dresser-closet combinations they contain. It's generally easy to figure out which one of the bedrooms is Hive's from the large amount of /clutter/ contrasting Flicker's perpetually tidy space. Flicker's full bed can be folded up into a recess in the wall, while Hive's larger queen hangs from the ceiling by sturdy black chains. Somehow, the city found some warmth for its Sunday, true to the name with actual /sun/ shining through the daylight hours. Those, unfortunately, are still all too short in December. Micah is taking advantage of the relative-warm /not/ to dress like an arctic explorer for once. Simple fez-and-bowtie socks, patched jeans, and a charcoal henley are topped off with a light grey tee. The word 'EXTERMINATE' features strongly in shaky letters across the top, beneath which one Derpy Hooves in Dalek costume brandishes an eggbeater and a plunger at a very skeptical-faced Doctor Hooves. The redhead's hair has a degree of muss to it that implies he hasn't paid it much mind during the day. The purpose (or excuse, really) behind his visit seems to be the small thermos in his hand. It is the type with a little flip-top plastic straw on the lid. He holds this in front of him as he opens the door after a brief knock. "Coffee, sugar." There is a small crinkling of his nose as he considers this statement. "Actually coffee no-sugar. I just realised that was confusin'." << What. >> It thuds into Micah's mind with the same crushing-heavy blow that has been typical of Hive's mindvoice lately. He's tucked into his bed, buried under a pile of blankets that's probably excessive for the day's warmth. "Coffee's for being awake," he grumbles, head shaking slightly against his pillow. "Am I supposed to be awake?" Micah's jaw tenses slightly at the discomfort accompanying the mental...sort-of greeting, eyes squeezing closed briefly. "S'a little after dinnertime, if you're meanin' if it's a time that people are usually awake. Ain't no...specific thing you're needin' t'be up for, though. I just wanted t'come check on you." He deposits the thermos on the bedside table. "An' coffee is usually the only thing you'll take anymore. It'll keep warm in that thermos for awhile if y'want me t'go an' let you sleep." "Oh." There's a prickle up against Micah's mind, uncomfortable as well; it comes with a very distinct feeling of confusion, uncertainty, a clear impression that Hive is quite /unsettled/ by the realization that it is after dinnertime already. "Oh." He slowly wriggles a little further out from under the blankets, pushing his pillows back to serve as a better prop as he tries to sit up. "I didn't know, it was -- dark. And Flicker's --" He shakes his head, offering Micah a small smile. "Thanks. Thanks. I don't want to sleep. You – okay?" "Flicker keeps some odd hours," Micah allows with a shrug. "I didn't bring any food 'cause y'usually don't want it. Figured I could grab y'some if y'did, easy enough." His teeth dig into his lower lip at the question. "I don't know." He sits on the edge of Hive's bed before swinging his legs around in order to settle next to the telepath. Grabbing the thermos, he offers it over to the other man again. Since he doesn't want to sleep. "Things're messy. But...I dunno. Stable-messy. Kind of." "He has exams. This week. He's." Hive's head lowers, slowly. "... stressed." His voice has lowered here, too, softer and kind of rough. He swallows, reaching for the cup to cradle it between his knees. "I heard," he admits. "You and Jax and Dusk and Isra. And -- you guys. And the pups. All of it." He glances up at Micah, a little apologetic. "Sorry." "Yeah. Ev'rybody's got a lotta stuff goin' on." Micah nestles a little closer against Hive, wrapping an arm around the other man's shoulders that /might/ be helping him to sit up a little straighter for drinking. "Jax was...full of arrows again. Second time he's been full of arrows an' in the hospital an'... Still in bad shape even though I pulled Joshua in t'heal 'im." His fingers fidget with the hem of his T-shirt. "An' all of that, yeah. No need t'apologise. It ain't like y'can help overhearin'. Saves me havin' t'tell it again, anyhow. Ain't been talkin' t'people 'bout it much b'fore 'cause I didn't know what Dusk an' Isra wanted other people knowin'. But now that this is gonna be a thing? Guess I can talk about it more. Since we're gonna have a kid whenever it hatches." << Heard that, too. >> Hive leans up against Micah, brows knitting together. "People don't. Usually have to tell me. Much but. I like it... anyway, it's. Awkward. Sometimes. I don't --" He shrugs a shoulder. "Always know all this shit I can't talk about until people bring it up first." His head drops back against the pillows, eyes closing. "How're you feeling. About all that? Kid. And all." "Mmn, yeah. Sometimes it's nice not havin' t'rehash all the nitty-gritty details, though." Micah presses a light kiss to Hive's temple at the brow-knitting. "I mean...the basics're that Isra an' Dusk accidentally had an egg, an' neither of 'em feels equipped t'raise whatever kid comes hatchin' out of it. But it ain't like they can go to an adoption agency with an /egg/ an' expect anything good t'come of it." His arm shifts to allow Hive to lie back more easily. "An' I always wanted kids. The twins an' Spence've been amazin', but I'd never really shut out the possibility of adoptin' more /eventually/, y'know? An' it just seemed like... Here it is. S'a way t'give Isra an' Dusk an out from havin' t'raise a kid they don't want an' aren't equipped t'raise. Give this kid who'd otherwise have so few...chances in this world a lovin' family right from the start. Not have t'let it go through what the pups went through. Not the worst of the way things started out for 'em, anyhow. So I asked Jax an' /he/ said yes, too. But since then? Ev'rybody /else/ has been a mess over it." He doesn't so much shake his head as roll his neck a little against some of the stress-tension built up there recently. "Felt like we was losin' Dusk over it. He wouldn't even talk t'me. Seemed like he was avoidin' comin' home at all. He says he's okay now an' was just avoidin' thinkin' on the whole situation, but we'll hafta wait an' see. An' the twins. That...didn't go well." Hive stays quiet through all this, fingers tapping at the side of his coffee cup. "Is all kind of complicated," is all he eventually will allow. "Have you noticed that..." But here he stops, eyes closing. "What are you going to do? I mean. With the pups? That's -- they're not. Happy." "Just a little," Micah answers that with a bitter little laugh at the near ridiculous levels of understatement. "Noticed what? Folks been cuttin' sentences off on me so much lately I don't even know what t'think anymore." His teeth move to worry at his lower lip again. "It's hard t'know /what/ t'do. Every time things get rough people stop /talkin'/ t'me. Dusk took off an' wouldn't talk. We told the pups 'bout this an' B stalked off, then Shane threw us out. How am I s'posed t'know what t'do when won't nobody never /talk/ t'me?" The sag of his shoulders is a little defeated. "I don't know. I don't know what they'd have us do. Just leave Dusk an' Isra t'that situation when we got a way t'make it better? I mean...Dusk might still be goin' back t'jail for /years/. That hasn't even sorted itself yet. I don't know what people want from me, an' won't nobody /tell/ me anythin'." "I keep seeing everyone's dreams." This sounds a little bit distant. A little bit tired. Hive's lips twitch faintly at Micah's words, though, and he's wry when he replies: "You didn't exactly talk to them, dude. Hate to say it but you /kind/ of missed the fucking boat on that one. It's not like they /get/ a say at this point, so talking to you /now/ is pretty much a moot point." He opens his eyes, looking down at his coffee. "Do you think you made the right choice?" "D'you mean the future dreams?" Micah asks, posture perking back up a little. "I know...we should've included 'em more. But it was rough not knowin' how much Dusk an' Isra wanted shared 'round. An'...I coudln't talk to 'em 'til I knew what Jax wanted. An' it seemed like...we needed t'know what Dusk an' Isra was gonna say first after that, but... It's not moot t'tell us what they're thinkin' an' feelin'. I don't know what they'd have us do. What part of /what/ is upsettin' t'them exactly. How we could reassure..." His fingers twine into his hair, raking trough it and tugging at it. "What other choice /is/ there? Whether or not they were gonna let the kid live was Dusk an' Isra's choice. They chose that. An' since they didn't feel ready t'take care of it an' we do? They chose that, as well. What else /is/ there?" Hive nods. "The future. Dreams. Keep seeing. Everybody's." His posture sags where Micah's perks. "No kid. In them." His hand is shaking again, the coffee cup wobbling between his knees. "I --" He stops, wincing. "... am going to. Not finish a sentence again, fuck. It's. Not really fair, is it? I don't know how to have. These conversations. I know what they're thinking. And feeling. It's hard to keep straight. These days, Micah, it's hard to. Remember. What -- I know. You know. What... I'm supposed to." He scrunches up his eyes, shaking his head once, hard. "Fuck. Hard to talk to anyone. Without saying shit I'm not -- supposed to." "No /nobody/ in 'em, Hive. I'm assumin'...the little one prob'ly didn't make it with the harsh conditions. I'm fair certain Jax an' the pups an' Spence're all dead in those, too." Micah shudders a little afterward, though he brushed right by the /saying/ of it. "But we're tryin' t'keep /that/ future from goin' that way. If I can ever get that doctor t'answer a /message/. See what we can't learn 'bout how t'stop this." His hand moves in soothing circles on Hive's upper back. "Wish I had any idea what people're thinkin' an' feelin'. /That's/ the part folks won't talk t'me about. An' it's the most important part. Don't know if it's secret or if...they don't know how t'tell me? I...there's just so much uncertainty an' won't nobody... I keep kinda flailin' in the dark here." Something tightens in Hive's expression, his head bowing further. "What makes you think we can stop it. Last time we --" His teeth grind, creaky, hard. He sinks back down, away from Micah, beneath the covers once more, coffee cup forgotten as it tips still-closed out of his hand atop the blankets. "It's better. In the dark. Don't -- want to know what's. In anyone's head anyway." “We got more time, this time. We might know where they're comin' from an' who's sendin' 'em. An' we...know they're real right off this time. S'a lotta things can come outta five years.” Micah adjusts again to keep his arm from getting trapped under Hive when he sinks. He pets a hand against the telepath's shoulder instead. “But I do. I /need/ t'know. Otherwise how'm I s'posed t'act on anythin'? How'm I s'posed to deal with other people if they won't never /tell/ me what they're thinkin' or wantin' or needin'? M'obviously not doin' a good job of it so far.” Hive just shakes his head again. "S'a lot you could fuck up in five years. A whole lot /more/ death to make." His shoulders tense up, at the petting, curling inward. There's another creaky grind of teeth. "Doesn't help. Knowing what -- what. What people are --" Crrrrrk. "Could always just. Not. Deal with. People. Is maybe the best --" Hive trails off, voice tapering off into quiet. "If they don't tell you they don't want you to know." "I don't know, sugar. That looked like an awful lot of death. Explosions. People in internment camps. Killer robots. Seems like a lot more t'/improve/ than t'make worse. Anyhow, I /gotta/ talk t'this guy either way. He might know what happened t'Maya. I think we owe it t'her to at least /try/ t'find her." Micah moves his hand away from Hive's shoulder when the other man retreats. "But I don't understand. Is everyone upset with me? That they don't want me t'know what they're thinkin'? I mean...not /deal/ with people. M'family? Just...stop interactin' with Dusk an' the twins an'...even Jax half the time anymore. What /is/ that?" He swallows hard, perhaps dwelling a bit too much on yet another instance of being told to leave. "D'people not want me here anymore?" "You think too damn much," Hive accuses, gruff. "Everyone's -- fucking. /Upset/. Really fucking. Egotistical to think they're. Upset with /you/, everyone's -- got a shit ton on their --" He stops, /hissing/ out a breath between his teeth. "God-fucking-/dammit/. I don't. Understand what you want me to. /Say/. Here. I can't -- how the fuck am I supposed to answer you, dude? When I -- /know/. The answers. It's not goddamn -- it's not. It's not --" His teeth grind once more, knuckles digging up against his eye hard enough that it looks like it should be painful. "... just seems like the best plan. Sometimes. Stop. Interacting. Much simpler." Now he just seems to be talking to himself more than Micah, eyes still closed and knuckles still grinding hard down against his eye. "Apologies, honey, it's just hard not t'... A lot of it /seems/ aimed at me. But I can't know what's happenin' when I'm not around t'say otherwise." Micah chews at his lip some more. "Could tell me what /you're/ thinkin'. That's somethin' you're in control of, at least." His head shakes vehemently at the last assertion. "But then what's the point? What's the point of any of this if not t'have our family? Just lockin' ourselves away...might as well not be here." He forgets that Hive had been pulling away, hand moving to the back of the other man's neck before realising and pulling away, too. "I love you. Apologies. Maybe I shouldn't be bringin' up all the upsettin' stuff. Y'just...said y'liked people tellin' y'things so I thought... I just seem t'keep gettin' everythin' wrong lately." "Might as well not be here," Hive echoes, tensing up at Micah's touch and twitching away as his teeth grind once more. His head shakes, once. "Like people telling me. Things they want me to know. So I don't have to -- go off what I hear. But that's -- this is. You're /asking/. Questions I can't -- I can't. Tell. Anymore. Can't -- separate what I..." His hand slides down his cheek, nails scraping red lines down against his skin. "I'm not in control of. Much. Anymore. It's just. Crowded again. I'll be glad..." His brow furrows as his hand thuds down to land against his chest. "Maybe there's no. Point. I think I should. Sleep." "Shh, honey. Forget I asked." Micah's hand reaches over to cup around Hive's, encouraging it away from his face. Then letting go, since Hive clearly isn't wanting to be touched. "I love you. Apologies for...upsettin' you. I should've just let y'keep sleepin'." He picks up the coffee thermos and moves it back to the bedside table, swinging his legs around to the side of the bed to stand back up. "Apologies. Love you. Sleep well." "You... too." Hive sounds a little bit confused on this point. Mildly. He mumbles something afterwards that is only marginally coherent. It might be sweet dreams. It's half buried against his pillow, at any rate, his face turned in against it, more to hide his troubled expression than anything else. His fingers scrunch in against the blankets, shoulders hunching inward as he curls in tighter beneath them. “Love you,” Micah reiterates once more before clenching down on his quavering jaw and moving quickly out the door.