From X-Men: rEvolution
Dramatis Personae

Jax, Micah, B, Shane, Eridani

3 January 2015



<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.

There is rain pattering down against the many windows, a grey glum non-light pressing in at them this morning. It's early, ish -- for a Saturday, anyway, but Jax is up despite /winter/ meaning he's tended to actually sleep in these days. Looks like he's /been/ up for a little bit already -- or maybe hasn't gotten much sleep, a little pale and a little shadowed under the eyes. Possible side effect of being far the lighter sleeper of the pair with a newborn who clicks and growls instead of crying and wailing.

At the moment he's in the kitchen, dressed in fluffy black socks, blue galaxy-printed fleece-lined leggings, a rainbow colour-blocked sweatshirt over his 'I'm one of the bravest girls alive' tee. Thick gardening glove on one hand and a thick blanket folded in quarters and wrapped like padded armor over his chest where he holds Eggling against him. The bite marks in his wrist aren't /currently/ bleeding, red and raw from repeated puncturing but healing for a couple hours now. His non-gloved hand is stirring at the stove, a pot of grits cooking on the stovetop alongside a large pan of tempeh bacon.

The infant drowses easily on Jax's chest, tiny talons hooked into the blanket. Their tail curls around the gloved hand as if making sure it cannot get away. Every so often, a movement wakes them and their head lolls back at a sickening angle as if to examine the food preparation in progress. Then they inevitably lose interest and turn to jaw languidly at an armored thumb or some wrinkle in the blanket, eventually drifting off again.

Micah apparently escaped for a moment to get a quick shower in, his hair left a spiky mess that hasn't been given barely a towelling to dry it. As he hurries back from upstairs, he is dressed in layers, as well, Firefly hoodie over pale blue henley, turquoise tee on which chibi Toothless is sharing a book with a bevy of Terrible Terrors, lined jeans, and soot sprite slippers. There are bandages peeking out covering older bites along his wrists, which quickly disappear under their /own/ set of oven mitts as he first leans in to give Jax a kiss on the cheek, then work to relieve him of the infant and free up his hands. “Y'didn't need t'start cookin' while y'were still on kid-duty, sugar.” A small smile accompanies a second kiss somewhere in the process. “I was comin' right back.”

"Yeah but /someone's/ a goddamn overachiever." There is a contingent of tiny blue shark sauntering in from Beachhaus. Bruised and bloodied -- Shane considerably moreso than B, his wounds have been more or less patched up but still healing and red where he's been gouged open all down one side. He's in black boxers, low-slung on his hips, not dressed otherwise. "Jesus Christ, that's uglier than I even expected."

Behind him, B is less battered. Just a little puffy-bruised around the eye, so far as can be seen; she's more dressed, in thick warm yellow tights, pink skirt, yellow sweater, and hangs back behind her brother with huge eyes wide as her nose twitch-twitch-twitches. Sniff sniff sniff. Her eyes lock on Micah's wrist, then Jax's. "You're hurt."

"Oh -- I mean, i-- they drifted off, I thought I'd jus' get started on -- shhh I think they're sleepin' --" Though here Jax tips his head slightly, eying Eggling uncertainly. "Maybe." He's slow and cautious in his unhanding of the infant, anyway, trying not to jostle the child too much. Transferring the thick blanket to Micah's chest with the baby still clinging to it. "Mornin'. Makin' tempeh. If y'want. Gonna put coffee on too. An' s'a voluntary kinda hurt, s'far as we can tell the Goblin eats like their dad."

The hatchling's bright green eyes crack open a slit when they get handed over. They emit a rapid string of low, guttural clicks as if by way of complaint, but the noise stops once Jax settles the blanket against Micah's chest. Their ears swivel when the twins speak, and their eyes try to follow without much success.

"Okay, I'll be /extra/ gentle," Micah assures in hushed tones, gathering the youngling to and turning slowly to face the twins a little better. "We /really/ need t'come up with a name 'fore this kid ends up Egg or Goblin or some-such forever." He raises a brow at the twins as if inviting opinions here. "Isra spilled a pile of astronomy terms at us, the most of which weren't /remotely/ name-like. S'a couple as weren't bad, though." His head shakes at B's observation. "Only little bites here an' there. You two look /way/ more hurt. Y'been tended well already?" He sways a little on his feet, aiming to keep the little one calmed. "Though we /are/ gonna need a better way t'feed 'em eventually. Can't just keep bitin' into folks indefinitely. Was thinkin' maybe we could work off one of your Tribble designs, B? Make somethin' that feels like a mammal without bein' one."

"Looks kind of Gobliny," Shane opines with a shrug, ambling closer to poke his head close to the infant and sniff at it. "Maybe Demon. Damon. Damon's a good name, right?"

"What names did Isra want?" B is still hanging back, claws digging in against the back of the couch as she watches the others.

"Probably best Dusk's not here he'd name them CSS or something." Sniffsniffsniff. Shane's tongue flicks over his lips.

"Breakfast," B suggests. "Could name it breakfast." Her gills flutter at the sides of her neck. Her eyes narrow at the mention of the Tribbles, but she doesn't answer.

"Damon's pretty heavy gender-coded an' we don't know what gender Egg's gonna be. Plus I -- don't think we want t'be /encouraging/ none of -- those kinda associations." Jax's nose crinkles up at these suggestions. "CSS ain't a name." He shakes garlic salt into the grits, stirring some more. "An' please --" There's a tired edge to his tone at the suggestion of 'breakfast'. "Jus' don't --" His head shakes, looking down at the food.

Rousing at Shane's approach, the hatchling cranes their neck around to regard him through eyes opened grotesquely wide. They sniff back at the shark pup, droopy-tipped ears rotating forward. Then the toothy maw stretches open, lazily, almost like a yawn, and closes down on air, nowhere near close enough to reach Shane. Another rumbling string of clicks registers the hatchling's mild displeasure.

"Mmn, yeah. Would rather not pick a name with negative associations. Or one with strong gender associations, neither, since... We ain't got an obvious sex to work off of, even." Micah frowns, for only a breath, at the 'breakfast' recommendation, though he chuckles a little at the reaction to Shane. "S'like most infants. Interacts with the world usin' their mouth. But this'n comes pre-loaded with teeth." He offers an oven-mitted hand for the youngling to chew on instead. "I got a bunch of Chewelry an' bite gloves on order. Should have 'em by Monday." It takes him a moment to dredge up a list of names Isra had provided. "I can't 'member most of what she spilled out. Some of it was just.../not/ names. Quasar. Redshift. There was a couple that sounded okay, though. Ones I recall off the top of m'head were Nova an' Eridani. I'd been browsin' at gender neutral names online, but nothin's /really/ jumped out yet. Like Amari decently enough. Dependin' which culture it comes from, it's a boy's name for some an' a girl's for others."

"So if there /are/ obvious sex characteristics then a gendered name is okay?" B frowns at this, claws scraping at the corduroy again.

Shane frowns, head tipping to look over at Jax. His gills flutter, brows furrowing as he looks over at Jax. "{Maybe it's an energy vampire he looks hella fucking tired,}" is in faintly worried Vietnamese, though in English, just: "Eridani is rad. Though if they have a star-name they should have some fucking computer-nerd name to balance it out." He tips closer to the hatchling, holding a hand out towards their opening mouth.

"Lisp," B suggests readily. "{We should have killed it. We should still --}" Her claws dig into the couch again. "What are you going to /do/." Another flutter of gills precedes the clarification: "I mean, with. Work and -- this was. Kind of really sudden."

Jax shuts the heat off below the grits, turning the bacon over before getting the coffee started. "... I like Quasar." This is very quiet, though. Nearly to himself. Quieter /still/: "I /don't/ think there's /anything/ about this that's much like --" But he stops, just lowering his eye as he slowly goes about getting out mugs and plates and bowls. "Don't fully know yet. I'm takin' leave from the Clinic till we get a good sense of what -- needs Egg's gonna have. School, too. M'classes'll be covered easy enough the rest'a this term anyway. Kinda gonna take it a bit at a time an' -- we'll have a better idea once we get time t'get t'know 'em."

The hatchling's jaws close down on Shane's hand, sharp canines scratching and catching on his tough skin, but not puncturing. At the successful acquisition of this target, they detach one wing from the blanket--each talon unhooking clumsily as it pulls away--and tries to /scoop/ it around the shark boy's wrist. Their tail sways back and forth with evident interest.

"I'm of the opinion that folks should be able t'change their names if they don't like whatever one they're given for /whatever/ reason. We just need...somethin' t'work with for now since this'n can't just tell us what they'd like as of yet." Micah nods along with Shane's name vote, but nose-crinkles at Lisp. "Sounds too much like a speech impediment. Keep tryin', though." His brows loft at Jax's addition. "Y'did like Quasar? We'll hafta put a vote in that'n's tally, then." Another nod comes with Jax's work plans. "Likewise. I'd got applications in already for someone t'take over handlin' my non-Clinic patients, but hadn't had time t'actually interview an' /pick/ one yet. So that'll just hafta get sped up real quick. I'm gonna put ev'rythin' on hold but m'one class at the school for now. They couldn't get mine covered so easy 'cause it's new. An'...then we'll see. I'd been thinkin' only t'take back m'Clinic patients once that's viable, anyhow. Be home a lot more. Do fabrication from m'van /here/, so even if I'm workin' I'm home much of the time. But longer term plannin' is gonna hafta take some..." The words trail off as the youngling reaches for Shane. "Sugar, they /will/ bite harder. Did y'wanna hold 'em? I'd recommend some oven mitts if y'don't wanna get bit." Micah adjusts his hold on the hatchling, ensuring that he has control over them whether to pull away from Shane or to transfer the holding if he wants.

B's head tilts, sharp ears catching Jax's quiet words. Her eyes shift over to him, narrowing there briefly. Then Micah. Her claws continue to scrape against the corduroy. "That wasn't. Really my /point/, Ba." Her gills press flat against her neck.

Shane's hand shakes lazily from side to side, absently shifting without actually trying to dislodge the hatchling's teeth. A very small twitch tugs his lips upward. "Preeeetty sure /we/ were like this, Pa," he answers Jax's quieter comment.

"Perl is Dusk's favorite language." B is still looking at Jax, but then detaches /her/ claws from the couch, shaking her head and turning away. Her arms cross around her chest, shoulders a little hunched as she heads back towards her house.

Shane frowns, head turning to watch B. "/I/ bite harder," he answers Micah in an absent voice. "... uh. But. Maybe later..."

Something tenses in Jax's shoulders at Shane's answer, his eye wincing up. His teeth sink against his lower lip as he sets bowls on the counter, dishing bacon into -- two of them. Holding off on the other two as B heads out. For a moment his mouth opens as though he's going to say something -- but he doesn't. Just frowns a little glassily down at the breakfast he's cooked. "You can't. Bite the Goblin you're. Way bigger, that's -- plus they're wicked strong. Probably be able to. Take you soon." His tone is kind of flat with this. Not entirely joking.

The hatchling's fuzzy head shakes clumsily from side to side, as though Shane's hand were a small animal whose spine they might easily break. They emit a sound halfway between a growl and a purr when their flailing wing finally gains purchase on the rough blue skin. They start trying to tug him--weakly but persistently--closer, nevermind that they are /attached/ to Micah's chest.

"'Pologies, B, I didn't mean...nothin' by it. S'just a lot goin' on right now." Micah chews at his lower lip, juggling a /few/ too many conversations of very different weights and feeling like he's about to drop at least one. "Perl's pretty, actually. Like Pearl, but without the feminine attachments. It'd make a nice middle name. Short...shorter middle names usually roll better. Eridani Perl...Quasar Perl. Hm. The first one runs a little better. Vowel-consonant mixture, I think, is..." He shakes his head, leaving the rest of this for another time. "Love you both. Y'don't hafta leave but I get that this is a lot." When Shane moves to disengage with the youngling, Micah pulls away gently, tries to loosen the wing latching at the teen, and offers the mitted hand again. Failing that, he rolls his sleeve back to offer the little one. "It'll be a lot better when we get the bite redirection toys in. It's not ideal just offerin' someone /else/ t'bite on but it's what we got for now." He doesn't add to Jax's admonitions, rather just watching the twins pull away and trying not to let the concern grow too evident on his features. "Love you all."

"Yeah," B agrees, a little bit roughly. "There's a lot going on." She disappears out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

"Eridani Perl is pretty great." Shane leans closer when he is tugged, dropping his head to bonk forehead lightly against Egg's before wresting his arm back from the hatchling. "Why do you need bite redirection chewing on people is great. /I/ bite you both all the time." He scoots around behind the counter, wrapping his arms around Jax to squeeze tight. "I should. Check on B. But you know this sucks, right? Also you look like shit." On his way back out he pecks Micah on the cheek.

"Eridani Perl." Jax echoes this, quiet and testing, a small nod of his head accompanying the repetition. He leans briefly back into the hug, eye closing. "Thanks. You're a real cheerleader." His gaze follows the pups out. He draws in a deep breath afterwards, glancing over towards Micah as he rolls back his sleeve. Swallowing hard and looking back to the food he dishes out. "... got breakfast, honey-honey. When you're done." He pours out coffee, setting it on the table together with the grits and bacon.

Evidently startled by sudden headbonk, the hatchling does not have quite the reflexes or presence of mind to transfer their casual chewing to Shane's /face/ before the latter has moved out of their reach. They give a sort of vaguely confused sounding warble, but then seem content to return their attention--and their fangs--to Micah's gloved hand. This, being more familiar and thus less engaging, has their eyes drifting shut once more.

"Okay. I think we got a name, then. Thanks for your help." Micah reaches his less-engaged hand out far enough to brush Shane's cheek at the little kiss. "'Cause you /usually/ know who t'bite an' who not to. An' when too much is too much. Babies take awhile t'work that kinda thing out." He tugs the sleeve back down when his mitt proves adequate to bring the youngling back to him once more. "Even non-fangy babies tend t'use pacifiers an' chew toys some of the time. We just hafta step up the /strength/ for ours. An' parents usually get a little rumpled. This is new parents /accelerated/. Had less than a third of the usual prep time an' a lot more /new/'n typical. See you later, sugar." With a last pat to Shane's shoulder, he follows Jax to the table. He tugs Jax's chair out for him with a foot before settling into his own. "Thanks for cookin', hon. I got clean-up after. Lemme know if y'wanna catch a nap an' I'll handle things for a bit, okay?"

"Usually." Jax sounds a little wry, with this. He doesn't actually take the seat that Micah pulls out; once he has prepped the coffees he settles down, kneeling, on the floor by Micah's chair with his own bowl. He rests his cheek on Micah's knee, eye tipped up to look towards the hatchling. "Where d'you think we'll even be able t'get pacifiers that -- I mean, s'pretty strong already. If they takes after Dusk an' Isra it -- who knows how long it'll be afore --" He stops, closing his eye. "'pologies, I jus'. Got a head full'a. ... tired."

As if to demonstrate Jax's point, the hatchling stretches their little wings without so much as lifting their head or cracking an eye. Once the wing talons sink back into the blanket, the infant falls well and truly asleep at last, their breathing growing slow and even.

"The Chewelry an' chewy tubes an' things they make for kids an' /adults/ with sensory issues should be strong enough. They're non-toxic an' made t'stand up to near constant toothy damage without fallin' apart for a /long/ time. An' the bite gloves are made t'handle dog trainin', so... We'll be set on that one." Micah reaches down to pet at Jax's hair instead of digging into the meal immediately. "No need t'apologise, sugar. Been doin' a lot. An' newborns bein' up every two-three hours makes sleep kinda awful. Y'can wake me up if they wake you 'fore me, okay? I think you took too many of the night feeds last night. We should switch off t'make sure we each get halfway to enough sleep. But first, we got this nice breakfast y'put t'gether." He gives Jax one last pet before shifting toward his bowl. "Love you, sugar. We got this."

"Love you." Jax nuzzles up into the petting, a soft rumbling purr in his throat. "I jus' -- you sleep sounder an' -- an' if I'm up /anyway/ it don't -- jus' seems like it makes more sense t' --" He shakes his head, taking a mouthful of grits but then lowering the spoon back to the bowl. Nuzzling his head in against Micah's lap. Maaaybe a little bit drifting off as well.