ArchivedLogs:Good Influences

Good Influences
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda, Sprout
In Absentia	2015-09-12 "Mostly good is all a girl can ask for."
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Treehaus - Lower East Side
A spiral of sturdy slatted wooden stairs winds up the trunk of an enormous oak, leading the way up to this treehouse positioned between a pair of trees at one side of the Commons yard, abutting the river. It's clear enough upon ascending that this is no ordinary treehouse, built sturdy-strong and with a polished finish that would rival most /regular/ residences. Spanning the distance between the pair of oaks, the treehouse is a long one-story building, equipped with both plumbing and electricity. The stairs lead up onto a wraparound balcony that projects out at one side to overlook the East River rushing by below. The doorway inside leads to a furnished sitting room, long low futon-couches on the pale wood floors, walls painted in leafy shades of green, exposed-beam ceilings that seem to have worked some of the actual branches of the tree into the curvature of the roof. The front room is bright and airy, large windows looking out on the Commons grounds and the river outside. Recessed lanterns in the wall give the room a warm glow, come nighttimes, and in the center of the room amid a stone-tiled patch of flooring there is a squat glass-encased gas fireplace providing warmth in winter. Off to one side of the room there is an elevated loft up nearer the ceiling, accessible by ladder and furnished with pillows and plush futon mattress and lots of blankets. The adjoining room is decorated in watery river-blues instead of leaf-greens; in here there's a small kitchenette to one side with sink and stove and toaster oven and counter space, cabinets on the walls. A long dining table in this room seats eight; by the windows, plenty of cushioning sits in the wide window-seats. Off in the very back, a tiny half-bathroom holds a sink and toilet. No stove in here; the wintertime tends to find this room much chillier, but there's generally plenty of warm blankets lying around the house. It's been a dreary overcast kind of day, intermittently rainy; at the moment there's a steady patter of rain against the leaves outside. Inside the treehouse the quiet backdrop of rainfall is joined by quiet music. "-- can show you how to be strong, in the real way." Hive is humming along, sprawled lying along one of the folded couches on the floor, Tola tucked lying against his chest. His laptop is open on the floor by the futon, playing a YouTube playlist of Steven Universe songs. Hive's messenger bag sits at the end of the futon. There's food mostly finished nearby; a quarter end of of a tofu banh mi on a plate and an equally almost-gone bowl of rice and sweet potato curry nearby it. Tola currently has a rather squished piece of sweet potato held in one hand, which she is attempting to feed to Hive by dint of mooshing it up against his face. /Some/ of it has gotten into his mouth. << I already ate my lunch, yo. >> Not that he's really resisting. His mouth opens up to close lips gently around her WHOLE hand. Nom. Melinda arrives in the Commons after work, smelling of delicious brews and perhaps a little milk that soured during her exposure to steam and body warmth. She makes her way to the tree house after dropping off her belongings at home and learning of her child's whereabouts. She comes up the stairs with a little more heft in her steps than usual - tired from running around all day rather than a lack of the substance that drives her onward. She's changed into some yoga pants and an oversized, long sleeved shirt, but the smell lingers in her hair. << A couple more weeks of this level of business and we might hit even before the end of the year... >> she muses to herself, reflecting on the days receipts. She's still giving all the tips to her workers to try and help them reach 'black' in their personal lives. She pauses in the doorway, taking in the sight, her thoughts warming at the sight of the pair. Her lips spread into a smile as Hive engages in his own brand of cannibalism. "There you are. Have we started the series over?" There is still a good deal of sweet potato mashed against Hive's cheek as he turns to look at Mel. Tola, honestly, is perfectly neat; /she/ got her lunch using actual utensils. "Naaah. Just watching the music." His words are kind of muffled around Tola's fist. << How is it all so on point? >> He untucks Tola's hand from his mouth, bopping his nose against her fist. "Though maybe we /should/. Only seen it three times so far." "Hmmm. They do have good music. I saw an article once about how much the author loves writing for the people who voice the characters..." Melinda moves in, sitting down next to Hive and glancing down at the laptop. "You ever wonder if you being inside people's brains inspires them -- you could be a muse in certain ways, adding a different perspective at least, subconsciously, that taps into already creative minds and gives them new material?" She raises an eyebrow, though her thoughts betray her lack of serious intent. "You save any for me?" this is directed toward her daughter. << Wonder -- >> This word is echoed back to Mel, slow and uncertain. Hive pushes out a small breath through his nose. "No." His brows crease. "Yes." Crease further. "No. Maybe." He rolls from his side onto his back, squinting one eye closed. "Being in people's heads changes them. I don't wonder. I know. Hard to quantify how much of anyone's given -- anything is influenced by --" One thin shoulder shrugs. The corner of his mouth twitches up. "Sadly Steven Universe was before I ate the world. Can't take credit." Tola, meanwhile, wipes her hand against Hive's face. Grabs some of the smooshed sweet potato off the side of his cheek to offer it out to Mel magnanimously. Hive snorts. "S'a Tupperware in my bag." "If anything, it merely expands their references." Melinda leans over and presses a kiss to Hive's head before turning her attention to Tola, her brows rising at the presentation of food. She considers refusing for a moment before mustering enthusiasm and leaning over to eat the sweet potato off her fingers. "Yum, yum, yum. That's delicious. Thank you, Tola. Mommy's going to get some food for herself now, okay?" She kisses the fingers and palm once more before pulling back and turning toward the food. "I apologize if I bought up anything upsetting." Hive stretches out a hand, reaching to pluck a wet-nap from a nearby dispenser and wipe the rest of the sweet potato from Tola's hand, first, and then from his face. "Cooked it myself, 'course it's delicious." His arm hooks lazily around Tola's waist, stopping her from crawling off to offer Mel more potato out of her bowl so that Mel can get her /own/. "Hard to ever quantify how much of who we are or what we do is -- the people in our lives. I mean, I had so many people kicking around in here while I designed this place. How much of these buildings is them? There's certainly a lot of all of you in all these homes even when you /weren't/ in my head." Shrug. "Very true. My home is very much specifically designed for me. The only thing holding it back from being an exact portrait is millions of dollars to devote to eccentricities." Melinda pulls out her food and digs around for a spoon, mixing together the rice and curry. She then moves back to dad and baby, cuddling close Hive's side as she starts eating. She finishes her first bite then lets her gaze drift to the toddler. "Much better fresh. Less baby flavor. I suppose the notions of nature and nurture have been a little more in my mind since having a child. People are huge influences, subconsciously or otherwise." "Oh jegus. I have this new client, you should see the fucking ridiculousness they're asking of me. Never have millions of dollars, you go goddamn crazy." Hive's other eye closes to join the first. "Or have millions of dollars and you get a stupidly awesome house, I guess, but seriously, who needs their entire home to be a fucking aquarium? -- The pups, maybe. But this is just for show." He rolls his head to the side, eye cracking just a sliver open to peer at his computer screen. "Or otherwise. People shape us a whole lot. I guess -- some of us more than others." He glances from Tola to the computer screen and then back to the little girl. "... 'least for a while we can make sure they're /good/ influences." A little wry: "... mostly good." "I like to think that we've managed to fill Tola's life with an excellent assortment of influences. Though, I do tend to feel like Greg most of the time. Wish I knew how to play the guitar better." She eats quietly, her mind trying to merge memories of a vast, circular aquarium in New England and someone's dwelling. << It seems excessive, >> she finally decides, despite the romantic memory of a scene from 'An American Tail' blossoming in her mind's eye - a mouse singing a serenade to his sister while sitting on a bed floating in a water tower. "Mostly good is all a girl can ask for. All good doesn't exist." "Always time to learn. Few people around here you could learn /from/ easy enough." Hive reaches to pluck a stray slice of carrot from his abandoned plate, where it's fallen out of his mostly finished sandwich. "Mostly good is -- much better than I'd hoped for. Any kid growing up in..." He exhales slowly, kind of heavy. "It's an alright home here, though?" Quiet, his voice is hopeful, more a question than a statement. "It's a good place to -- kid." Melinda takes a break from eating and puts her bowl to one side before scooting down to rest her head closer to Hive's, her hand reaching out to take Tola's hand, thumb tickling at her fingers. "Tola is extremely lucky, mutant or otherwise. All of the people we love live so very close by. It's a very good place to kid. You... worried about something?" Hive tips his forehead in to rest against Mel's. "Just this minute?" A small shake of his head. His eyes turn to watch the rain pattering down against the window. "Right now, we're good."