ArchivedLogs:He Plays the Violin
|He Plays the Violin|
23 November 2013
(Yes, that is a 1776 reference. It's the first thing I think of whenever there are violins and innuendo. >_>) (Part of Infected TP.)
<XS> Chimera Room – FL2
The guest rooms at Xavier's are spacious and comfortable, well-furnished suites readied for visitors. A mid-sized guest suite, its sitting room is large but its bathroom and two accompanying bedrooms -- one a queen, one holding two full beds -- snug and cozy. Its windows look out over the front yard, providing a wide view of the forests and lake in the distance.
In here the decor is subdued, tawny golds and ash-grey stone with hints of green thrown here and there to brighten it. Monstrous creatures prowl the room's artwork, amalgam in shape -- lion heads, dragon wings, scorpion tails; small glass figurines hunch on the bookshelf and hang painted on the walls.
There's music coming, from the guest suite that has been given to Jackson and Micah and Spencer (the latter of which is currently out in the workshop with Sebastian, happily assisting in building new robots.) Shane /has/ his own room, to be sure, but the problem with his room is that it is in the students' wing. With other students. And so here on the weekend he is, instead, tucked away in his parents' suite, perched in the windowseat in the sitting room with his violin tucked beneath his chin. The song is light and lively, Kriesler's 'Tambourin Chinois', heard fairly often around their apartment as one of his favourite pieces to play.
He's looking better than he had been looking, if marginally so; a little bit more flesh to turn his frame from skeletal to just stringy. Today with no classes to attend he's dressed down, in -- possibly the only pair of jeans he actually /owns/, together with a short-sleeved button-down shirt and pinstriped vest over it. Obie is curled up at his feet, currently a very /sleepy/ audience.
Micah is returning from his latest supply run, having unloaded the vast majority of the goods in the kitchen for the cook to do with what she pleases, according to her own organisational scheme. As usual, he has a backpack full of items that were retrieved from the Lofts, as that was his previous stop-and-supply location. His olive green jacket it still on, though worn open, and his gloves and hat are tucked into the bulgy-looking front pockets. Beneath the jacket he has on rainbow-patched jeans and his Batsignal hoodie, also open to reveal his bleach-stained xkcd 'Stand Back I'm Going to Try Science!' T-shirt beneath it. His humming stops as he slowly opens the door, letting the violin take over for melodies once its sound reaches his ears. He doesn't offer a greeting, not wanting to interrupt. Rather he deposits the bag on the bed for unpacking, then sheds his coat and places it on a hook.
Jackson is trailing just behind Micah, currently unburdened (apparently Micah gets to do the heavy lifting!) and dressed once more akin to his usual; black skinny jeans laced corset-like up their sides in purple ribbon, knee-high black boots, long bell-sleeved black t-shirt with a purple short-sleeved one (reading 'Let's switch gender roles!') over top. He's shedding his silvery jacket as he closes the door behind them, hanging it next to Micah and then stopping to listen to the song as he crouches to unlace his boots. There's a small smile on his face at the music, posture easing into something a good deal more relaxed than it has been Out In The World. "-- That's sounding. Really good, you been practicing a lot."
The song continues, slower through its middle and then picking back up again in its final minute. Shane's eyes are open, though, through the end of it, watching the other two with a small smile. He lowers his violin to his lap once the song has finished, folding one leg up beneath him. "You should wear those jeans more often, Pa," he offers in cheerful greeting, "they make your ass look fantastic." This comment segues straight into: "A /lot/, yeah, it's. Kind of relaxing when everything's falling apart, you know? And everything's been falling apart a long time. Did you guys get many foods? How's Hive? And Lucien?"
Micah claims a seat on the edge of the bed for his own shoe removal. "Prob'ly ain't all that much t'do with the /jeans/, anyhow," he adds to Shane's comment, conveniently face-hidden in the shoe removal process. He stands again to deposit the shoes in a corner before opening the bag to unpack. It is mostly more clothes, though there are some other odds and ends of toiletries and knitting supplies and such. "Yep, many foods. Still keepin' stocks here an' the Clinic and the Lofts. Ain't done so much shoppin' ever in my life." He smiles at this, though, not actually complaining. "Hive's...not had any changes really. I'm still...pretty sure we're gonna need someone with healin' or psionic abilities t'get t'him. I think Lucien's comin' out of this, though, just slow-like. He's eatin' an' talkin' a little. Still doin' a lot of sleepin' an' gettin' confused easy. But it's better by a lot than how he was doin' just a day or two ago."
Jackson's face is not hidden; it flushes deep crimson at both these comments, his head dipping downwards to spill shaggy hair down over his face though this only serves to cover as far as his eyes. "Oh -- gosh, um." He sets his boots by the door, getting to his feet with one hand scrubbing against his (darkly bearded, of late) face. "Thanks." His hands fall to tuck into his back pockets. "I really like 'em."
"Luci's brain's helpin' itself, at least. An' he's in good hands to boot, from what I been learnin' Dr. Toure is -- well. Kinda where you want to /be/ for havin' damaged-up your brain. Might be they'll be able t'help Hive, too." He wanders closer, unhelpfully ignoring the packing in the bedroom and instead leaning in to peck Shane lightly on the cheek. "So what you're sayin' is when we get ourselves a full-/blown/ apocalypse, you're gonna give us /excellent/ music t'end the world to?"
Shane's eyes skip downwards, watching Jax's hands slip into rear pockets with a quicker brighter smile. He lifts his violin again, but is derailed from playing it by smallkiss! Which lights his eyes up; he sets his bow down so that he can answer it with a hug. "Probably, yeah." His smile is still bright. "It'll be like the Titanic. Except for the whole world. Do you like Mahler? I could see the world ending to Mahler."
His nose wrinkles as he sits back against the window, though. "-- They've gotta fix Hive. How did it get so bad?"
"Ohgosh, no. No more apocalypses. Is there...actually a plural of apocalypse? I guess the idea is for it t'be final, so I s'pose we ain't s'posed t'have more'n the one." Micah's head shakes a this as he re-folds clothes to tuck more neatly into a drawer. "Hive...picked up half the East Coast for the last raid. Held onto folks for too long. Forgot how t'let 'em go again. An' then we had...apocalypse happenin'. Made it harder t'figure out what t'do. An' since Luci's our go-to for helpin' Hive, him bein' busy tryin' t'cure /everybody/ an' then breakin' 'imself in the process... Got messy." He glances over to Jax with this. "Speakin' of which... How open would Hive wanna be about that story? One of the research folks, Regan, was askin' yesterday. I just told her I wasn't sure what Hive would want people sayin'."
"Apocalypsii?" Jackson returns the hug tightly. "Kinda my fault. He was -- we promised Anima we'd find hir body. He was being -- real aggressive looking for it ever since ze --" His fingers rub against his jaw. He slips off to the bedroom to help put away things, gathering toiletries to set them up neatly in the bathroom. "Hive don't really like people to know exactly /what/ he does. He's real open about bein' a telepath but people tend t'freak out at the idea of someone who can go all -- creepy mind-control like that."
"Nah it's like sheep. One apocalypse, two apocalypse, ten apocalypse. Didn't Buffy have about seventeen of them?" Shane slides down off the windowseat, stepping over Obie carefully to move towards the bedroom door. He sets his bow back to strings, though now just quietly running through some scales. "How is that your fault? That creepbag shot you in the face and then afterwards you had /everyone/ to take care of, it's not like you could've noticed --" His brows pull together deeply. "-- You have a whole world to save though, Pa. You can't blame yourself for every thing."
“I figured that he wouldn't want a lotta folks knowin', but didn't know if his life bein' on the line would change the landscape any. An' this ain't remotely your fault. Had no other way of savin' you but askin' Anima. An' that wasn't even your decision...was mine more'n anyone else's. Once Ryan said he had somebody as could fix you, I insisted.” Micah bites down on his lip at this, pushing the drawer closed with a thud. “Zie didn't start gettin' creepy about it 'til afterwards, which was /hir/ choice an' not yours. An' we /all/ told Hive that it wasn't his job t'eat half the brains in the world tryin' t'find hir body, either, but he weren't listenin' to anybody. Even when Jim said he would go all P.I. over it. Mightn't even /be/ a body t'find at this point.” He sighs heavily. “An', yeah, we all let it keep goin' on once this apocalypse business started. But what else were we t'do? I think people get a /little/ bit of a pass for an apocalypse.”
"I don't know. Can Regan do anything for him Dr. Toure couldn't do? I wouldn't want to chance it, people can be /pretty/ terrible -- to psionic folks more than just about anyone else of us." Jackson wanders back from the bathroom, but then stops in the doorway behind Shane with a slowly deepening frown, colour draining from his face. His mouth opens, then closes again. He lifts a hand, setting it on Shane's shoulder, his fingers pressing down gently. "-- Oh." The air around him colours, abruptly darker, his makeup all vanishing and the fabric of his shirt and the ribbon in his pants both reverting back to their /actual/ tones (black with pink text, and a black ribbon.) He sinks back against the wall beside the door, his hand dropping back to his side. "-- I do that, don't I."
"About taking control of your mind, man wow I can't imagine wh --" Shane lowers his bow as the colour starts to fade from Jax. "-- Oh fuck did I break him what did I do?" He stretches up onto his toes, dropping his violin to his side too and peeeeering up into his father's eye. Then looking over to Micah in confusion. 'What's up?' Though he signs this instead of saying it aloud, puzzlement on his face.
“Don't know. She's an MD-PhD student right now, studyin' neurology. Students can be real insightful sometimes since they've got their noses in the subject matter an' the most recent research all the time.” Micah leaves off his rummaging through the remnants of items-needing-unpacking in the backpack at the “oh” from Jax. He hurries across the room toward Jax when colours begin to change suddenly, offering physical support once he is near enough, brows knit over the other man's collapse against the wall. “I don't think y'did anythin', Shane. It's okay, we're gonna figure this out.” He looks back at Jax. “What's goin' on hon? What d'you mean by 'do that'? Blamin' yourself for too much?”
Jackson shakes his head with a sudden flush, curling his arm around Micah's waist and tipping his forehead to rest against the side of Micah's head. "No -- no. I just mean I do -- too much. All the time. I /am/ runnin' around tryin' to save the whole world. An' Hive -- might be dyin' an' /you/," he's looking to Shane now, apology etched into his features, "-- almost died an' I'm out -- tryin' to take care'a everyone on earth 'cept the people I love most. The /whole world/ ain't my responsibility t'save. M'sor -- nnf." His eye closes, head dropping lower to tuck against Micah's neck. "I love you guys. I gotta -- not do this."
"Oh." Shane leans back against the doorframe, studying his fathers with teeth pressing down lightly against his lower lip. His bow taps quietly against the side of his leg. "Yeahokay, you do that. It's kinda shitty sometimes." He shrugs a shoulder, eyes still fixed on the others. "I mean having you around more would be awesome. But also this whole superhero thing is kinda who you are. So it's sorta awesome sometimes, too. Not all the almost-dying and really-dying. Just the part when you're fucking incredible. Most people don't really give a shit about helping anyone past their own noses."
"Oh, that. Yes. Y'do try t'spread yourself too thin. An' don't remember t'take care of yourself enough. Or stop t'sleep or...any of that." Micah wraps an arm around Jax when he tucks against him. "But it's comin' from a good place. You're seein' all the things as need doin' an' no one's doin' an' you're tryin' t'help. S'a happier medium, though. Between killin' yourself tryin' t'do /everythin'/ an' not helpin' at all. Y'can slow down without stoppin' or havin' t'change who you are. Because that's a strong, carin', beautiful person. Who just puts everybody else ahead of 'imself all the time." He pulls Jax into a closer hug. "An' things /ain't/ always your fault. Whether y'were busy or not. There's a lotta /situation/ that led t'Hive bein' in his condition. An' t'Shane not bein' able t'get enough t'eat. It's not like...these are all things that y'could be easily solvin' single-handed, hon. An' Shane's entirely on the mend. We're gonna figure Hive out. He just needs...some special help. We just gotta find the right...psionic or healer or whatever. T'help since Lucien can't this time."
"Find someone to help. Right. We can --" Jackson keeps his face buried against Micah's neck, the dark shadows still twining around his limbs. "OK." His voice is small, and he leans against Micah with fingers scrunching up into the older man's shirt. "I just -- need. To prioritize better, I don't --" His shoulders shake for a moment, not a sob but a soft breath of laughter. "You know what's kinda sick, with this whole -- world fallin' to pieces, since we moved in here to the school I think I spent more time with alla you than I ever do when things is normal. An' it's -- nice. Not, um, the zombies part though."
Shane sets his violin and bow aside on the bed, creeping back over to Jax and Micah to bonk his forehead up against their sides. "Ba's right. There's some middle ground with all this. All this everything you do, that's part of who you are. But you can do it without killing yourself over it. And you know you weren't exactly right before. It's not that you try to take care of everyone except us. You try to take care of everyone /and/ us." His head tips back, eyes peeking up at the two men. "-- and you know sometimes it's okay if we take care of you, too." He stretches up onto his toes, whispering now like he is telling a /secret/: "-- I think Ba actually even /likes/ taking care of you." One claw reaches up to tap lightly against the collar around Jax's neck. "What do you think you're wearing that for?"
“We'll see. We know a lotta folks with special abilities, 'tween the lot of us.” One arm stays wrapped tightly around Jax, the other moving up to pet through his hair. “It ain't that y'got prioritizin' problems, honey. I think your priorities are fine. Y'just try t'take on too much for any one person t'be doin'. An' on top of bein' a superhero, you're workin' half a dozen jobs. Doesn't leave much time for anythin' else.” Micah places a soft kiss on the top of Jax's head at that sad-laugh. “Ain't...sick, it's logistics. We're all in the same place. You can't work any but /two/ of your jobs right now. I can't...work at all. Spence ain't even in school. Takes a lot of the busy out of a day not t'have any of your usual tasks t'do. Has been nice havin' more time with folks, though, s'true.” The arm curled around Jax relaxes for a moment, reaching out to include Shane in the hug at the head-bonk. “Might be we got some bright kids,” serves as his summary of Shane's comments.
Jax drops a hand to curl his arm around Shane, too. His next laugh is actually warmer, the shadows fading from around him. "We got some pretty incredible kids," he agrees, squeezing the teenager close. His head tips up, nuzzling against Micah's neck and brushing a soft kiss to it. "An' I got a pretty incredible partner." His cheeks flush red at the tap to his collar, his face pressing in against Micah's neck though his lips can be felt curving into a smile. "... is nice bein' took care of sometimes, too," he admits softly. "Just ain't always good at it. S'so many things -- need doin'."
Shane grins bright and broad, leaning into the hug and wrapping one arm around Micah's back and the other around Jax's. "Maybe sometimes you just need to be ordered to do it," he suggests brightly -- up to Micah even if his pronoun choice directs this sentence at Jax. "Everyone likes to be taken care of, sometimes." His head bonks in against their sides again. "And maybe sometimes you're the thing that needs /doing/, too. I never hear Ba complain about /that/ either."
Micah smiles into Jax's hair, his chin resting gently on the other man's head. "Might be pretty incredible, yourself." His chin rocks to the side in its resting place, baring a bit more of his neck at the kiss. "S'nice takin' care of you, too. When you /let/ me." He adds a playful little nip at Jax's ear to that statement, his voice able to be lowered quite a bit with the closeness. Micah picks up his own tinge of red, creeping out from his cheeks slowly to claim his ears and neck between the time of that look from Shane and the additional commentary. "Well, I'd say Shane's definitely feelin' better," he half-jokes, tone still playful.
The blush in Jax's cheeks deepens, furiously crimson though he just squeezes Micah all the tighter against him. He shivers at that small nip, pressing his lips more firmly to Micah's neck. "I'll let you, Sir," he murmurs, quieter. "Jus' takes some -- remindin' now an' then." His fingers ruffle at Shane's hard spikes of hair. "-- S'nice, too. Seein' you smile."
Shane's eyes lift again, watching the others through the nip, through the kiss. There's a small darker flush that creeps into his own cheeks, smile quirking a little lopsided. "Yeah. I feel good, actually." He squeezes the others more tightly, then wriggles away to go pick his violin back up off the bed. "I'm just gonna -- get back to practice and leave this -- nice big bed all. Cleared off for you guys." Scootscootscoot, he is heading back for the door to return to the sitting room.
Jax's squeeze earns a tightening of Micah's arm around him in turn. “Guess I'll just have t'do a little more remindin', then.” His smile returns at Shane's claims of feeling good. “Good. Was thinkin' about goin' on another hunt t'morrow mornin'. Still gotta see if 'Bastian's free. You're definitely invited along, too, if y'feel up to it. Need t'keep everythin' gettin' back t'normal, includin' the food supply.” He shakes his head, blushing more fiercely at Shane's antics. “Normal for us, anyhow.” This last comes through some light chuckles.
"Ohmygosh." Jax's face scrunches up, lifting away from Micah to grimace at Shane. "You're incorrigible. -- You /should/ go out with them y'clearly got some energy t'spare, maybe y'can direct it at somethin' more productive than our sex life." His fingers press in against Micah's back, trailing slowly up the other man's spine. "-- Which admittedly has been like. Nonexistent for a while, it's /strange/ how havin' a little mini apocalypse puts a real damper on that kinda thing. -- I think we'd all die'a shock if anything 'round here was ever /normal/-normal."
"Ba," Shane says with a grin, "tomorrow morning /you/ won't be able to keep up with /me/." He tucks his violin beneath his chin again, the next melody he plays is slower, soft and gentle. "Jeez, no sex in weeks no /wonder/ you're all twisted up. Don't worry," he adds cheerfully, "I'll keep an eye out and make sure no zombies are coming." He pauses in his playing long enough to close the bedroom door behind him.
In spite of all the blushing and fussing at Shane, Micah's skin shivers under Jax's touch. "I mean...I was kinda on full-time labrat duty at the Clinic for a /minute/ there. An' 'fore that everybody was sick." He brings a hand up to his forehead, though there is still an amused grin on his lips. "I don't even know why I'm discussin' this with...go play your violin, Shane. An' if I /can/ keep up with you, that's not a good sign. I'll be the one carryin' all the /gear/ so you kids can Elf it 'round the forest findin' game." He starts laughing again once the door is closed. "Oh/gosh/, that kid."