ArchivedLogs:Hamantaschen

Hamantaschen
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah	4 March 2015 Ancient Babylonian d4's...
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. It has grown late. Snow has turned to a drizzly rain that patters down against the windows, though it's promised to turn back into snow before sunup. Against the dreary cold of outside the kitchen is brightly lit and warm. Many many lamps, and the ovens both on and heated. He has a number of bowls out on the counter -- various fillings, apricot and poppyseed and chocolate and raspberry. And an enormous bowl, currently full of dough that he is rolling out one ball of on a flour-sprinkled countertop. The sleeves of his tight iridescent-green shirt have been rolled up above his elbows, his forearms and wrists kind of flour-dusty as well, tattoos powdery-white and shifting with the motion of his rolling pin. He's humming quietly to himself, Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off", as he works. Micah thud-steps his way swiftly down the stairs, fresh from the shower with the spiky-wet hair to prove it. He is dressed evening-time casual: Batsignal hoodie, Doctor Hooves tee, rainbow-patchy jeans, socks with Twilight Sparkle cutie mark designs. The humming draws a warm smile across his lips, coming in behind Jax to peer over his shoulder. "I have been hearin' that song just /ev'rywhere/ lately. Though now it makes me think of Billy's dog." This he observes with a chuckle. "S'there anythin' y'want I should help with? The parts that don't involve the actual bakin'. I wouldn't do that t'your work." Both hands go up playfully...perish the thought! "That's because she's fantastic. An' when she plays this summer I so want to be there. Even though tickets are gonna sell out in probably about ten seconds," Jax laments, head tipping back to nuzzle at Micah's neck without much pause in his rolling. He /does/ pause at Micah's offer, though, giving his husband a crooked smile. "You can sit there an' look pretty. I want actually edible hamantaschen for Spence t'morrow, love." He sets the rolling pin aside to pick up a cookie cutter, starting to cut circles out of the dough that he has flattened out against most of the whole counter. "Hmm...she got a mailin' list y'can join t'get tickets early? Sometimes things'll sell out b'fore they even get released t'the gen'ral public," Micah recommends with a thoughtful tilt to his head. He puts on his best wounded (/wounded/!) look at the denial of his assistance. "I'll have y'know, dear husband, that I can make little hat triangles with the best of 'em. S'like Play-dough with jam in the middle. /Promise/ I been doin' it since I was Spence's age or younger. Ask m'momma. She's the one who got t'figure out 'xactly what I could do without makin' disasters so you don't have to." His smile has crept back out over the course of this, the drama-hurt not able to win out over the long run. "... huh, maybe. I don't know. I should look. I ain't been t'a whole lotta shows that ain't, like. Uh, Ryan. Or in someone's basement." Jax grins, nose crinkling up. "Or Ryan /in/ someone's basement. Though that ain't been for a minute now." Micah's assertion has him narrowing his eyes, lips thinning, brows lifting. "/Mmm/." He does step aside to make room at the counter, gesturing to the bowls of fillings and waiting parchment-paper-lined baking sheets. "I /s'pose/ if Spence was managin' these earlier you could join in the hatmakin' fun too." “Hamantaschen haberdashery, comin' right up! Though I do like the theory that they're /maybe/ s'posed t'look like ancient Babylonian d4's.” Micah sidles over to the sink to scrub his hands, foremost. “An' alla that's better'n ears. S'a bit macabre. Also, a bit jammy. For ears.” Taking up a station at the counter, he starts forming the little triangles out of the little circles. “Y'can totally watch over m'shoulder for the first bunch an' make sure I'm not ruinin' ev'rythin',” he teases, a small-pink triangle of tongue darting out between his lips in Jax's direction. “S'worthwhile t'look. Small venue's always nice, but crowd-energy can be good, too.” "S'posed to look like Babylonian whats?" Jax nudges Micah with a toe when he starts forming triangles. "Y'gotta put the filling on /first/. /Then/ hat." His lips have curled back into an amused smile. "I think pretty much near all the ones we did after dinner was chocolate-orange. That was all Spence wanted t'make. I hadda make a whole new batch of chocolate fillin' just t'keep goin' cuz he just wanted t'add chocolate an' orange t'/alla/ his. -- Elephant ears can be good an' jammy. Mmm." He's starting to spoon raspberry filling into the center of a row of his own circles before pinching their sides up into a tricorn. “Four-sided dice...pyramidal,” Micah clarifies. His eyes are veritably /glittering/ with a mischievous amusement that might imply he was baiting Jax with the 'error' in order of formation. “That's 'cause chocolate is amazin'. But I really like the jam ones, too, so I'll make y'so many jams.” His motions are a /touch/ exaggerated as he adds apricot to a single circle and forms it up properly (this time) before continuing to fill-then-roll in a more efficient fashion. “S'Spence all set for costumes? Or still plannin' /all/ the things?” "Ohhh -- oh. Be messy if you was gonna roll these. Not real balanced neither. Hmm. Tasty gamin', though." Pinch-pinch-pinch. Jax alternates his rows, a line of poppyseed following the raspberry. His smile has eased. Comfortable, familiar. Still /amused/. Maybe another /bop/ of shoulder as Micah 'corrects' his pastries. "I think he's set? He says he's fine, anyhow. Honest I don't even know what he's plannin' but he says 'tween you an' Dusk an' B he's gonna be the most excellent -- um, he knows t'weren't no /robots/ in the Tanakh, right?" “Also'd be a touch messy t'wear on your head. As a hat /or/ ears. Pointy, jammy ears.” Micah's /broad/ grin at the bop might be a victorious one. “Mmmaybe,” he answers on the robot-front. “Though, honest, some kids just treat it like Halloween in the yay-costumes sense. I'm sure we can robot /and/ get 'im a story-appropriate thing, both. Though dressin' up in royal garb can be a fun enough thing...” "/King/ of robots." Jax starts transferring his triangles to one of the cookie sheets, plucking up the leftover scraps of dough from between where the circles had been to toss them back in with the bowl of yet-unrolled dough. "I'm pretty sure I've seen Horus wearin' my cookies on his head /loads/ of times. They never last long, though." "Oh/man/, I think we've got a winner in the costume idea department!" Micah decrees of that one. "Horus'll try anythin' as a hat, true enough." This might be spawning some mental images, the way Micah chuckles to himself as he shifts through preparing lines of apricot jam hamantaschen. "I talked t'Luci 'bout helpin' out with Sean findin' Maya. He declined. Well, first he offered t'make room in 'is schedule if /we/ was hirin'. Then declined the thing with Sean." A small echo of blush rises in his cheeks even with relaying the story. A much larger actually-hat-sized hamantaschen appears on Jax's head. Golden-brown and filled with raspberry. It vanishes in the wake of Micah's declaration, though; a flush floods Jax's cheeks instead. He leans over the counter to nudge his triangles more neatly into place on the cookie sheet. "Didn't figure he'd be shy 'bout sayin' no if he didn't feel comfortable," he says at first. And then with a deeper blush, "... can't say that other thought don't hold some appeal, neither, come Eastertime." Micah laughs outright at the sudden pastry-hat. “Ohgosh.” His own blushing worsens rapidly, first in answer to Jax's, then at the last note. “Can't say as he'd mind, neither. Felt almost like I was disappointin' when I clarified what I was askin'.” His head bobs along, little nods at the rest. “I figured as much, an' that it might be a long shot askin'. I'm just not sure where t'go with it now. I sure don't want Sean doin' nothin' without that protection, but I don't know as...who to ask 'bout it now. Or if I should just let it go an' keep hopin' a more conventional method may come through eventually.” "Maybe we should ask. If he'd be open t'that. The last times was definitely --" Jax's nose crinkles up on a wider-crooked smile, cheeks still burning deep. "Good. An' we can afford it lately?" Even if the /fact/ of this isn't actually much in question, he still /sounds/ rather uncertain about it. He starts to add Micah's cookies to the trays as well. His teeth sink down on his lip, brow creasing inward. "... I don't know. /All/ this still jus' makes me uneasy." “Can do that for sure, sugar. S'been a learnin' experience.” Hands covered in dough and flour, Micah ducks his head to bonk against Jax's shoulder instead. It might be this gives a /brief/ bit of hiding for the ever-deepening crimson of his cheeks, too. “I know, sugar. But...this ain't even futurey, not really. S'a missin' person. Just feel like Maya deserves as much help as she can get with gettin' /found/. After she was tryin' t'help the whole /city/.” With the counter cleared off Jax sprinkles a new dusting of flour on it, grabs a new hunk of dough from the bowl to squish it into a ball and drop it onto the countertop. "I mean, t'ain't like Lucien's the only person you know s'got brain-powers. Comes to it, could be /Matt's/ as good or better a call for monitorin' -- who knows. Power craziness." "Yeah. My /first/ thought honestly was Hive. Though there's dozens of reasons that's a bad idea just now, s'why I didn't...even start goin' that way." Micah hms softly to himself, pinch-rolling at more triangles as he thinks. "Sean had said...telepathic monitorin'. Or brain fixin'. I usually don't think'a Matt in that way. But /ability/ control might be as useful as what he was proposin', t'tell the truth. He could force Sean t'back off if he went too far, couldn't he?" Teeth meeting with his lower lip, Micah gnaws a bit at it. "Could be worth askin'." "I mean, I don't know as there's much point in even askin' at Hive, s'far as I know he -- can't hear you anyhow." There's a small sag to Jax's shoulders at this, a heaviness to the motion as he starts rolling the next ball of dough out. "I ain't talked t'Matt 'bout the full extent of what he can do -- t'be honest I ain't talked in-depth t'Matt about /much/ all year. I don't think he's..." He trails off, swallowing and just focusing his gaze on his dough. "... I do gather he come outta the labs with sorta a Swiss army knife stashed in him, though, when it comes to tweakin' at us. Could be worth askin'." Micah nods heavily. “Yeah, that was. My concern, too. I'm still holdin' some little hope that if we /find/ Maya she might know more an' maybe we can help Hive, too. Could be nothin' but wishful thinkin'. I dunno. Feel like I don't know /much/ anymore.” For a time, he continues his spooning and shaping quietly. “Worth askin'. I'll hafta see how comfortable he is with...the idea of doin' anythin' with that again after what it was.” Leaning in again, this time he delivers a kiss to the tip of Jax's shoulder. “Apologies, sugar. Didn't mean t'bring down the mood, I just didn't know what next steps t'take.” "I mean, /also/-also ain't like /they're/ the only -- not even the only /telepaths/ you know, the school's got plenty -- an' Mirror an' Joshua both kinda got an anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better thing goin' on so." Another shrug. Jax's jaw is a little bit tight as he rolls out the dough. "I don't never know what next steps t'take. Jus'... keep takin' 'em anyway." "I didn't...wanna be askin' after any of the /kids/ for sure, or folks I don't know as well... I'll never claim t'know much 'bout Mirror. An'...yeah, Joshua is some kinda telepath at least sometimes. I'll...keep 'im in mind as a back-up." Micah moves to the sink to rinse his hands, drying them with a towel before giving Jax a little hug from behind. "Thank you, hon. That was helpful. We can talk 'bout somethin' else, maybe. There's a plan again. I didn't mean..." He just trails off, forehead bowing as he presses a kiss to the nape of Jax's neck. "Joshua is everything for everyone. At least sometimes." Jax says this with a frown, an unhappy grimace. He eases back into a more relaxed posture at the kiss, though his gaze stays focused down on the dough. He cuts neat new rows of circles out of it. "Y'mind stickin' those trays in the oven? Ten minutes on the timer? Right now all I want t'talk about is finishin' this mountain'a dough 'fore the /sun/ gets up." “I almost hate t'call on 'im for anythin'. Still gotta make up dinner with 'im. Our schedules just don't mesh well, seems.” Micah presses tighter against Jax, holding him closer for a moment. “Love you, honey. An' sure thing, shug. Y'got m'hands dedicated t'the cause 'til these puppies're done.” Though he /may/ be stealing a dollop of apricot jam on his way to place the tray and set the timer before getting back to his hat-shaping.