ArchivedLogs:Enforced Relaxation

Enforced Relaxation
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Dusk
In Absentia	22 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. The day may have grown dark already but Lighthaus is living up to its name. OK, at the moment /all/ the Commons kind of is, thanks to the diligent work of the all-night decorating party tricking the place out in a blaze of light and colour. Inside here it's not so much decorated as just illuminated. It /smells/ piney, crisp and clean, but the fresh-cut tree in its stand in the living room has yet to have any actual ornamentation put on it; the pine roping over the mantle and doorways, similarly, is undecorated. What there /is/ is a ton of bright lamps and /sun/lamps warm and bright and currently mostly all trained on the sunroom where one slightly-less-pale photokinetic /had/ said he would have dinner ready when Micah got home but instead is curled up /atop/ a pile of blankets in an enormous corduroy beanbag, dinner nowhere to be found. Jax is kind of half-dressed, shirtless but in black leggings, huge fuzzy red-panda-coloured leg warmers, Obie curled up in the beanbag beside him. The room is, for the moment, /not/ full of horrible apparitions -- just restlessly shifting shadows, half-formed and smokey-dark along its edges. The bright-lit surroundings are nothing short of what Micah expected to come home to, though the /quiet/ is another matter altogether. The redhead pauses at the door to turn off the light on his Bladerunner-style umbrella, tucking this into the umbrella stand where it can drip harmlessly. Likewise, he tugs off his boots to leave them in the shoe rack, doffs his cap, unwinds his scarf, and peels out of mittens and coat. He is left in his usual work clothes: TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis, paired with socks that have panda bears climbing through a bamboo-like background pattern on them. Stocking-footed, he pads through the lower level to the sunroom, a fond little smile spreading across his lips as he sees husband and pup curled up on the beanbag. His steps remain quiet to approach, as does his crouch to lower him to the beanbag level, a hand reaching out to pet gently at Jax's hair. The petting elicits a quiet happy purring from Jax's throat, a soft-warm glow shivering through the air around him. His head rubs up into Micah's hand, eye not opening. Just happy sleepy nuzzling, instinctive. He probably wouldn't wake at this at all if not for Obie, much less careful of things like personal space or sleeping -- /he/ wakes with a happy thump of tail, whumping his paws straight down onto Jax's chest in his eagerness to roll over and slurp at Micah's hand, too. "Hrrnghmph?" Jax squirms under sudden application of Paws --> Chest, purring turning into a quiet grumble. His face turns in against Micah's hand, shadows fading around the room as he scrunches his eye tighter, reaching up to -- bat. Fumble. Push. "... Obie those are claws -- Ohgosh. Hi. Honey." He sounds just a little sheepish, mingled in with the sleepy. Dusk doesn't do much to announce himself, upon arriving. Just slips over from Geekhaus -- he looks like he's probably not been awake /too/ much longer than Jax, hair still in a definite state of muss, steps still a little dragging, though for /him/ at least this is more or less his usual Morning Time. If he's /wearing/ clothing it's hard to tell; his wings are both folded close around himself, cloaklike. He has a coffee in one hand, almond milk and a small spoon of sugar, and his mouth has curled up around the rim of the cup into a crooked smile at Jax's continued state of sleepy. Wordless, brows lifting, he lifts his cup in invitation as he meanders into the doorway of the sunroom. Chuckling softly, Micah encourages the pup closer to him and /off/ of Jax in attempt to spare him smooshing-by-dogbody. He does manage to spare a hand in this to continue his husband-pettings, settling onto the beanbag with /both/ hands now engaged in scritchings. As such, Dusk receives more of a nod in greeting than anything. “Evenin'...or...um...mornin', hon. Dependin' on your perspective. /Feels/ like first thing in the mornin' 'round here just now.” He does eventually spare a hand from petting at Obie to wave Dusk toward them. "Ohgosh. I didn't. You're home. I didn't do. A food. You need a food." Jax attempts to struggle upright once there is no more dog on him, but mostly only succeeds in curling himself in onto Micah's lap. Mmm, husband. Mmm, scritchings. "I set an alarm," he tells Micah, earnestly. "Then I --" He shakes his head uncertainly. His phone has /somehow/ mysteriously buried itself under all the blankets. "S'that coffee?" There's a little more perk to his voice there, at least. Hopeful. "For shame. Look at this lazy good-for-nothing calls himself your husband." Dusk slips into the room, stooping beside the beanbag to offer the coffee mug out to Jax. One wing -- they've been recently coloured, the majority of the wingsails a deep-rich purple, near to black, with a faintly silvery shimmer to the velvet fuzz overtop and a slightly lighter blue at the sharp talons -- uncurls slightly, brushing lightly against Jax's back. "I'm sure there's absolutely no way we could scrounge up leftovers from the massive freaking /feast/ you guys cooked yesterday. Nope. Micah's just gonna starve and it's going to be your fault." "Shh, honey. I told you b'fore prob'ly ain't no need t'cook for awhile, all the leftovers fillin' up /both/ refrigerators in the common kitchens." Micah doesn't object to lap-Jax, settling himself onto the beanbag more comfortably in order to support him there. "Looks like y'turned the alarm off or muffled the phone under blankets 'til it went off itself. Likely y'needed the sleep, sugar. Don't worry yourself none." When Dusk comes over with coffee, Micah reaches out...not for the mug, but for /wing/. All the cuddles. Now, please. His fingers pet eagerly against soft wing-fuzz. /Jax/ reaches out for the coffee, lifting the mug to take a testing-small sip and then a deeper one when he doesn't burn himself. His nose wrinkles up at Dusk's teasing. "Maybe don't /need/ to but I /like/ doing for you. I jus'. Think I lost track of -- the day a little." His cheek rests against Micah's shoulder, back settling comfortably up against the soft wing. He switches the mug from one hand to the other to keep it out of a curiously nosing Obie's reach. "... have been. More'n a little bit lazy though. Lately." Dusk's brows hike up. His wing stays curled out, tucking in against Jax's back and pressing lightly back up into the petting. His shoulders twitch, just slightly. "Or, you know, shot full of arrows and almost dead. I think that's a /pretty/ legitimate excuse for skimping on housework for a week." "I know y'do, honey. But the best thing y'could ever do for me is take care of /yourself/. Then when y'feel better y'can get back to all the other things." Micah nods gratefully at Dusk's input. "Y'been injured /and/ durin' the least-light time of the year. Usually you're a little run-down without the solar power, but...on /top/ of it this time. It's vacation time. Y'should /take/ a vacation. Be a little lazy." Both of his hands continue their petting, one along Dusk's wing, the other moving from Jax's cheek to tangle into his hair, then back. He leans in to add a kiss to Jax's temple. "Dusk agrees with me. You're outnumbered." "Oh. /Well/. If I'm outnumbered. S'this a democracy?" Jax is a little giggly-amused, nuzzling into the petting and gulping again at the coffee before returning it. "Everyone's been vacate-ing. Y'know even Flicker took off from the Clinic? Whole two weeks, s'like. He never even tooked breaks that long for bein' dead." Though here, this thought fades his smile, gaze shifting over in the direction of Geekhaus. He curls in just a little bit closer to Micah. "... I don't know what t'do with vacation anyhow," he admits, a little while after this. "I think it's kind of anarchy." Dusk takes his coffee back, eyes slipping closed as he takes a large swallow. "Yeah, he's --" His lips press together, shoulders tensing. "I think everyone kind of --" Another uncertain pause. "Vacation's been sort of long overdue. I think what you do with vacation is you relax? Enjoy yourself? I know those are /novel/ concepts around here but I think people have at least been /starting/ to get the hang of it again. Kind of got out of practice a while. Everyone's rusty." “Don't matter if it's a democracy or not if you're /sufficiently/ outnumbered. Think Dusk an' I've got this covered,” Micah asserts with a smirk. Once the coffee is safely back in Dusk's hands, he pulls Jax in tighter against him. “No escapin' it. Enforced vacation-relaxation time. Hot drinks an' cuddles. Get y'back into the swing of it.” He roll-scoots them a little to better come under the cover of Dusk's wing. Jax has to nudge Obie down and off the beanbag when the dog tries to shove his way into the center of the cuddle pile, resettling himself once he has banished the poor pup back to the ground. "... kinda like the sound of -- enforced relaxation," he admits, an edge of purr to his voice as he nuzzles in against his husband's neck. Dusk's other wing slides over, running down in an almost lazy curl to pin downward at Jax's shoulder. One talon presses in against skin, hard but not piercing. "I don't think either of us have a problem with enforcing."