ArchivedLogs:First Morning

First Morning
Dramatis Personae Alyssa, Dusk, Flicker	2014-03-15 '
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. A widescreen television stands against the wall opposite the couch, shelving beside it holding a host of video games from different consoles. More shelving beside the windows on the far wall carries stacks of board games, as well as sourcebooks from various RPGs. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here and one bathroom situated between them, split between the three people who live here. More recently the apartment has become littered with /stars/ -- stained glass stars catching light in the windows, star-mobiles swinging from the ceiling, glowing ones stuck to the walls, bright metal ones and cheap plastic ones and glittering star-shaped rocks, stars of every color and make scattered about the place to give it a rather ridiculous amount of kitschy cheer. It is definitely //actually// Saturday morning, this time, steadily encroaching on Saturday afternoon while someone clinks and clanks and rattles around in the kitchen. It's all familiar-morning noise, but it's familiar-noise in a way that indicates someone not entirely familiar with their surroundings. That's because the //person// rattling around in the kitchen, actually making a bowl of cereal happen, is Alyssa. Half-awake and half-dressed, she is barefoot and wearing pajama pants; one long braid has come unraveled from the bottom end while the other has shifted loose at the top, so there's hair stuck to the side of her face -- it matches nicely with the pillow-marks that still haven't faded. Bowl in one hand, spoon in the other, she's turned toward the whole -- getting back to the living room part, but hasn't actually gotten there yet. Instead she's sort of standing in the middle of the kitchen, slowly eating, and squinting. Maybe the whole //being here// hasn't really sunk in yet. There's some shuffling noise from behind one of the two closed bedroom doors. It takes a little bit for this shuffling to resolve itself into an actual person; still in the a.m. portions of the day, Dusk might not really be fully awake either as he drags himself out of his room. He still looks bleary-eyed, tousle-haired, near-black waves an unruly mess around his too-pale face. He's not in pajamas; he's not actually in /anything/ except for the dark soft wrapping of enormous talon-tipped wings, folded in around his body. One arm is lifted to rub at his eyes and then stifle a (very /fangy) yawn; against lean-hard muscle there are dark bruises splotched in a few places against his skin. He pads barefoot through the mess in the living room, stopping in the open doorway to the kitchen to /squint/ at Aly in bemusement. He glances back to his own bedroom door, and then to the one Flicker shares with Hive. Then to Aly again, confused. "... I wasn't even drunk last night." "Hrnf," says Aly, and "mphgrk," and then she takes the spoon out of her mouth, swallows, and says, "...they're bigger'n I thought they'd be," while gesturing, vaguely, with her spoon. She's gesturing at //Dusk//, but probably most notably at the wings wrapped around him. She rubs her forehead with the back of her hand, then drops the spoon back into her bowl and holds //out// her hand. "'m Aly, sorry. Got in last night -- maybe not so late as you? I dunno, I was out pretty quick once I made it to the couch." Dusk's fangs bare again in a quick grin, sleepy still but warm; he unfolds one wing (with little concern for the resultant immodesty) to extend it outward, wide. At least as wide as it can /get/ before it reaches the other side of the small kitchen and runs out of room to stretch. "I get that a lot." He doesn't wrap the wing back around, just drapes it loosely against his back, leaving only one in half-shroud around himself -- though at least this one now readjusts to /restore/ some small modicum of decency. He steps forward properly /into/ the kitchen now, taking Aly's hand in a firm shake. "/Oh/. /You're/ Aly." His eyes skim up over her, rather impressed by the time they land on her face: "... that is some /excellent/ ink. You want coffee?" He glances at Aly's bowl of cereal uncertainly. /Hopefully/. "... s'the milk still good?" Or almond milk, at least, all they tend to have. Maybe he is relying on Alyssa to be /guinea pig/ for the often-expired contents of his fridge. Alyssa is duly impressed, bright green-gold eyes gone wide and eyebrows lifted at the spread of Dusk's wing. "'mpressive," is under her breath, but her own sleepy grin is broad, and bright. It widens once she's shaking his hand, once he's complimenting her ink; there's a faint flush under the freckles dusted over her cheeks, but only a faint one. "Thanks -- I had a good artist," which is only emphasized when she turns, squinting back at the refrigerator. (She's forgotten to let go of his hand. Still not entirely awake). "'s ... almondy, which I think is what it's supposed to be, so-- yes? Milk's still good. And oh, god, if you make me coffee I might actually kiss you, I couldn't deal with figuring out a new machine before cereal happened." When Aly turns aside with his hand still claimed, Dusk just lets himself be pulled deeper into the kitchen. The wing that had been draped at his back curls outward like a reflexive habit now that there is greater physical proximity, draping loose against Aly's bare shoulders like a supple-soft blanket. "Oh thank god. I don't think I could've survived without --" He breaks off into another stifled yawn, pressing the backs of his knuckles to his lips. "-- Proper caffeining. I got your back no worries. Weren't you coming in from /forever/ away? Long-ass trip. You visiting or staying?" He wriggles his hand out of hers, though his wing stays draped against shoulders as he reaches up to nab coffee beans out of a cabinet and tip some of them into a grinder. It might be the buzzing of the grinder that draws another Geekhaus inhabitant out of /his/ bedroom. Flicker got in not-quite-as-late as Dusk last night, but bypassing the front door entirely means the teleporter mostly just crashed straightaway after returning. /He/, at least, is far more dressed than the others, long green flannel plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt with an stylized design of Gunnerkrigg Court's Coyote on it. His hair is a mess, too, though he's running fingers through it to somewhat straighten it, and he's /changed/ some since high school -- a little /broader/, filled out with lean-strong muscles, and a /lot/ more scarred, face and arm pockmarked-melty all down once side with lingering acid-blast scars. He stops just outside the doorway of his bedroom, head tiiilting towards the low half-wall between living room and kitchen as he peers across. And very abruptly /flushes/ deep-dark-red all through his scarred face. "Oh -- oh. /Aly/." It takes a moment, but a bright smile spreads across his face. And then vanishes as he dips his eyes down towards the ground. "That's right, you're -- /hi/." There is a soft noise of surprise when Dusk's wing drapes over her shoulders, but it is a noise of //pleased// surprised; Aly shifts her shoulders back and forth reflexively, rubbing against the new sensation. "California," she answers, reclaiming her hand and returning to actually //eating// her cereal, rather than letting it go all soggy-gross in the bowl. "San Jose, an' -- I'm definitely staying, your roommate, he says I can have your couch I said I'd help with rent until-" Presumably not just until she's interrupting herself because someone else has appeared: even with all the changes her smile is //brilliant// as she recognizes Flicker, and her immediate response is to duck away from the curl of Dusk's wing so she can bolt over to him -- but she stops, and looks down at herself, and half-chokes on a laugh over, "C'mere, gimme your shirt and I'll give you hugs, come //here// it is so good to see you again." "California. That's /basically/ like another country." Dusk's wing rubs absently back against Aly's shoulders and then falls away as she slips off; he sets coffee to brewing, and then moves aside to the fridge to claim a plastic packet, dark red with blood, from inside its door. He punctures its top with his teeth, getting a large mug out of the stack of dishes in the sink and rinsing it clean before squeezing the packet into it. "How was San Jose? You guys get hit much by the -- zombie shit?" His eyes light a little bit at the mention of paying rent. "Oh shit. A /paying/ guest we should've -- cleaned up the living room or something for that." His lips curl up into a smirk as he glances over at Flicker's expression. "She has," he tells his roommate seriously, "/amazing/ butterflies." "Oh -- /wow/ it's good to see you --" Flicker meets Aly's bolting with some of his own, a shimmering-rapid in-and-out teleportation that carries him over nearer the kitchen in half a blink. He peels off his shirt with a continuing deep blush, tossing it towards her. "I heard you were baking delicious things out there. This building is getting /dangerous/ to waistlines." His brilliant green eyes are lifting in a quick skim that is rather /hasty/ to land on Alyssa's face, although he does venture a quietly amused: "Those are pretty amazing. -- New York's, um. Gotten pretty nuts the past couple --" He hesitates, reconsiders this before amending: "Okay, /forever/. Was San Jose /quieter/, at least?" Alyssa catches the shirt and clutches it for a moment, then manages to be coordinated for half a second long enough to set her bowl //down// on the table (on top of a book, sorry whoever left that there) before trying to get it on. It's an uncoordinated over the head pull-and-yank affair, but it's fast, and then there is //hugging happening//. "Didn't get hit as bad as you guys did out here," she over-shoulders to Dusk, "but we weren't immune, um, it was -- mostly quieter, but not nearly as quiet as I thought it would be," is an honest answer, and then she tucks her head down and mashes her face against Flicker's (bare, sorry) chest and //squeezes// tight. "I also made ice cream," she admits, because everyone's waistlines are in terrible, terrible, terrible trouble. "Carter's Confections and Creamery." She pulls away with some reluctance, and returns to her cereal, her, "Mmph, don't worry about cleaning, no-one even knew I was coming," a little belated. "/Jesus/ between you and Jax and Hanna we really /are/ all in trouble." Dusk turns around to stick his cup in the microwave once it is filled, turning it on and staring sleepy-blank at the microwave door as though enough staring will hurry its timer up. "At least I'll get a pass on the ice cream. Vampires are /supposed/ to be weak to garlic but thank god I got a pass on /that/, it's dairy that kills /me/. Hives and anaphylaxis, /not/ delicious." His eyes sweep the room thoughtfully, but then he just nods at the instruction not to worry about cleaning. "... good because it'd look like this in another two days anyway. Heyyy how do you feel about board games?" "I'll have to schedule more gym time." Flicker's blush slowly starts to fade once there is /shirt/ on, and he returns the hug in fierce tight squeeze. "/I'll/ eat all Dusk's share of ice cream. Can you just pay rent in sweets?" he wonders, first, but then glances back towards his bedroom door. "... well, okay, no, we could probably. Use actual rent too." Though this sounds a little disappointed. "What are you going to out /here/ now? If I had to suggest, I'd advise against getting arrowed," he says solemnly. "Even though it seems to be the newest fad." "Um," Aly says around her spoon, "'splains the almond, um," she swallows, waggles said spoon slightly-guitily. "That is the super actual awful worst and I am so, so sorry, but also how do you like salted caramel pretzel 'cause there's this really awesome vegan recipe I've been wanting to try out, I mean, //California//, I can totally do the milk-things with fake-milk too 'cause," cause really. "I can pay rent in actual money, 'cause it's still //saving// money, probably, from managing a whole place by myself, but I cook," and clean too, apparently, 'cause now that she's done with her cereal she's actually moved over to the sink to start rinsing out her bowl. "Like, real-food too, not just sweet stuff." "I don't know, I /think/ I'd take dairy-allergy over garlic-allergy. Maybe? Mmm. Not sure," Dusk admits finally, "but garlic is fucking good on steak and I -- I'd probably hate dairy allergy more if I didn't live next to Jax. Kinda forget that I'm missing /out/ on anything when I have his cupcakes." He tugs his cup of blood out of the microwave the moment the timer dings, slumping back against the counter to take a long hungry swallow, and then another. "/Real/ food? Holy crap can we keep you /forever/? Hive's the only one here who even knows how a stove works and he's --" He frowns, deeply. "Not really in cooking shape much these days. Salted caramel anything sounds pretty much like why isn't it in my mouth /already/? Life is really tough sometimes, guys." "Salted caramel pretzel does sound pretty baller," Flicker agrees, moving over to the living-room side of the counter to lean up against it, arms crossing on its surface. "Also food that's not sugar. Oh gosh --" He's watching Aly wash her bowl with a sudden widening of eyes. "We're all going to be in better habits before long, aren't we?" He says this like he's rather trepidatious about the possibility. "I used to do dishes -- sometimes. Usually," he admits, "when Jax came in and started fretting. I think things like /house/-cleaning just went even more out the window ever since --" He waves his hand back towards his and Hive's bedroom door. "--yeah, I can definitely see taking dairy-allergy over garlic-allergy, that might be the //actual worst//," Aly says, finishing up her washing and then kind of -- awkward-standing because wet bowl and unfamiliar kitchen. "I - wouldn't be opposed to //actually// actually staying, I've missed having //people// around -- um," there's a slightly-guilty glance back over at Flicker, and a solemn promise of, "I'll even try to get better at remembering //clothes//, and, um, contributing." Then she looks between the two, and chews on her bottom lip before blurting out, "Okay I try //really hard// not to pry and, like, not to ask after people out of turn but -- is Hive okay, is there something I'm //missing//, I've been in touch but not -- I still don't know. Everything. Going on here." "S'gonna be hella people in the new place. It'll be like -- even if you have your own apartment the whole complex is sort of /designed/ for socializing. But I think a few people have extra rooms --" Dusk shrugs a wing, stepping forward to take Aly's bowl and dry it with a dishtowel off the fridge, tucking it into a cabinet afterwards. "Clothes are overrated. -- Oh. Hive." His eyes slant back towards the telepath's bedroom. "Cancer. Which some days feels really fucking /strange/, you know? You spend a few years fighting against evil government /torture/ labs and crazy psychopath murderers and a fucking /plague/ of zombies, you don't expect it to be something as -- ordinary as cancer that ki --" He closes his mouth quickly, gently nudging Aly aside with one wing so that he can wash /new/ clean mugs now that the brewing smell of coffee is filling the room. "He's not /dead/," Flicker cuts in, sharp and /firm/ with a small tensing of his shoulders that relaxes soon after. "It's a brain tumor," he clarifies further for Aly, "and we're /pretty/ sure that all the telepathic /strain/ with -- the zombies and the raids and /everything/ -- if it didn't /cause/ it, at least didn't help. So maybe not /that/ strange." His eyes fix down on the counter, briefly, but his expression is still largely at ease when he looks back up. "The groundbreaking for the new place was yesterday. Kind of exciting. It's over in the Lower East Side." Aly totally takes the nudge in stride, side-stepping neatly (okay, shuffle side-stepping a bit still, because mornings) but also reaching out to //pet// Dusk's wing now that it's in proximity to her again, because ... because. "Well, that is pretty -- balls," she says once she has the explanation in full, pixy-fine face folding up into a frown, "like -- super deluxe sweaty gross after-gymclass balls, man. I can --," she wiggles her unoccupied hand, vague, "totally super happily stick around and be like, not-awful, I just demand //cuddles//, um. I'm probably going into business with Shane, I mean, that's the //plan// now, I was already working on coming home that just -- got me here quicker." She is kind of rambling; she also doesn't look like she's particularly aware of it, or if she //is// aware, like she actually cares. "It's /pretty/ fucking balls," Dusk agrees with a grimace. "But, uh, yeah, if you notice a lot of -- puking or. Toppling over. That's why. It's not just the /normal/ state of the Hive, historically speaking he's been a lot more upright. Mostly just snarks a lot." His wing curls in against Aly's arm at the petting, brushing soft against it. "Oh /man/ am I ever good at cuddlings. I'm basically a pro. If they /had/ cuddling leagues, anyway, not to brag or anything but I'd pretty much win. -- You really opening Evolve, then? I miss that place. Shane's been excited as hell about the idea." "He does give excellent cuddle," Flicker backs up Dusk's assertion. "And I think Shane's not going to be the /only/ person thrilled to death if you do. That's -- that's exciting." Though his eyes suddenly open wider: "/Business/. Oh, /shoot/, I was supposed to be getting ready for an interview!" One small shimmer-blip later and he's /in/ the kitchen, squeezing Aly tight. And then promptly vanishing off towards the bathroom to shower. Alyssa's "Oh no," is in response to Flicker's realization, but that's about all she has time for: she returns his hug with a quick-hard squeeze of her own, and promises, "I'll give back your shirt later!" to the ... bathroom door, really. "I'll try not to be a super obnoxious pain in the living room," is for Dusk, with a tip of her head back toward Hive and Flicker's room, "but I don't know, maybe there is -- y'know, maybe my timing's not awful." Considering that her previous wing-petting was encouraged rather than rebuffed, she -- keeps doing it. "I think your timing's pretty excellent." The benefit of incredibly /large/ extra limbs is that Dusk can keep his wing nestled in fuzzy rubbing up against Alyssa even /while/ turning away to pour two mugs full of coffee. He turns back to hand one of the mugs to Alyssa, putting the second down next to his half-drunk cup of blood. "We can /definitely/ always use a little more sunshine around here." "Oh god," is accidental but it's also grateful and //earnest// as Aly wraps both hands around the undoctored mug of coffee and inhales deep. "I could definitely kiss you for this, not even gonna lie, thank you forever for not making me figure out the," she pulls one hand free to wave at the machine, "on my first morning here. Mmh." "After a long day of travelling yesterday? That'd be /cruel/." Dusk has turned aside to grab almond milk out of the fridge and tip a little bit into his coffee, adding in a spoonful of sugar after this. Aly's accidental exclamation puts a bright grin on his face, and (only /after/ he's taken a first swallow of coffee, because Priorities) he turns towards her, wing pulling her in a little bit closer as he dips his head to touch a light-brief kiss to her lips. Alyssa makes a vague sort of grabby hand motion at the almond milk once it's out of the fridge, but she doesn't protest being pulled in for a kiss. Instead she uncurls one hand from its clutch around the cup and presses it against Dusk's chest for balance while she kisses him back. There is cheerful-enthusiasm to meet his light-brief, and a push up onto her toes (which is why she needs the hand for balance) before she pulls away, and says, "Milk and two sugars and you can do that //whenever// you want, for serious, best roommates ever already."