ArchivedLogs:In A Name

In A Name
Dramatis Personae Neve, Micah, Jax	30 July 2014 Neve's new life is complicated.
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with wending channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. It rained yesterday and tomorrow promises thundershowers but Wednesday evening has fulfilled everyone's best hope for a summer day--clear, bright and breezy. It's the breeze that's helped keep the humidity down, and at the moment it is also carrying the water's perfume into the courtyard. Whether that is a blessing depends on the nose on the receiving end--not everyone's fond of that briny smell. Neve doesn't appear to mind it. She's currently on the path between front gates to courtyard central, with her face turned into the breeze and eyes closed. A dangerous proposition for someone who's still walking but her pace is slow enough to not risk collisions. She's dressed as she was for the interview on the previous day--as if it were a /proper/ interview--in a black double-breasted woman's trench belted over a classic office ensemble: white blouse, black pencil skirt and sensible heels. She looks like a secretary, or a church wife, hands slipped into pockets and shoulders carried a little high to mark a trace of tension in her posture. Well...someone is overdressed or someone else is underdressed, as Micah has changed into his typical post-work clothes after a quick shower that has left his auburn hair damp and spiky. The rest of his ensemble consists of sneakers, faded bluejeans, and an olive T-shirt bearing a Darwin-inspired sketch of finches with adaptive upgrades, though of a /technological/ rather than biological nature. He enters the courtyard from the door to Lighthaus, eyes scanning where Neve's are closed and lifting a hand in greeting before he realises... Right. No seeing just now. A short trot brings him closer to the woman, greeting as he approaches in attempt to avoid startling her. “Evenin', Neve. We're s'posed t'show you 'round the place. Did y'wanna start on the grounds since we're here an' it's nice out?” For some reason he seems to come with a trace of pink blush pre-loaded today. To round things out, Jax is somewhere in the middle -- batik-dyed sarong, black with a host of rainbow-coloured lotusflowers, wrapped to ankle-length, and a flowily half-sleeved peacock-blue top. He has on jute sandals with black ropey straps, toes painted in sparkly silver, and there are large mirrored sunglasses covering a good part of his scarred face. He has one arm curled across his chest, fingers wrapped against the opposite bicep, and trails a short distance behind Micah with his head tipped /back/ to look up at the sky. It takes a moment before he looks down to Neve. "Kinda nice to get out of all the -- city-concrete, ain't it?" There's a dusting of pink in his cheeks, too, his heavy drawl quietly reserved. Overdressed, underdressed, at least the blushes seem to come standard so everyone matches. Neve is halted at the combination of footsteps and hail, eyes snapping open to fix on Micah, before sliding past him to the bright spectacle of Jax. Even if she /weren't/ rosy of cheek, the way she ducks her head to them would give the impression of such. "Micah. Jackson. Thank you for having me back. I wasn't certain that would be the case." There's a gentle sort of gratitude in that greeting. Gratitude, and maybe a touch of self-deprecation, intended to balance any awkwardness. The question sees her glancing around. Her gaze skips from gazebo to oaks to koi pond. "That sounds lovely...seeing the grounds." She pauses for the beat. "It is nice. Like a sort of city-borne oasis. Tucked away, out of sight. I can see why Mr. Tessier recommended it." The positive feedback loop has officially been entered. The others' blushing only worsens Micah's colour situation. "I really imagine we'd only send someone away who wished us ill. Or whom any of us might wish ill. That bein' said, there's folks as both...don't really appreciate the stance of your prior association with Themis an' folks as had a tension already with the you that. You used to... With Nox." That's not going to remain awkward /at all/. "But y'need a safe haven an' this place is that an' those folks've said things should stay civil, at least. Just. Be aware." He's soft and hesitant with these issued warnings, clearly not including himself in that group. "Um... Here's the gardens. S'a nice place just t'wander an' ask questions if y'got any. This is mostly just for pretty. There's a food-garden that way we can take y'through in a bit, too." There's a gesture toward the other garden before Micah leads the group on a slow walk through the paths, looking to match whatever pace seems best for Neve to take things in. "I weren't certain either," Jax admits plainly, turning one hand up and over. "S'a /lotta/ folks here been through Prometheus's grinder. An' a lotta folks here who is real good friends with Matt." His fingers curl back in towards his palm, loose, hand dropping to his side. "But Luci done talk t'alla us an' folks is --" He pulls in a slow breath, looking away across the courtyard towards his own house. "Well. We chose this place's name for a reason. An' I think most folks here feel like there's been /enough/'a death an' violence anyway." His fingers are squeezing a little bit harder against his arm, steps slow as he trails along. "S'a pretty awesome treehouse up those oaks, too." It's a reflex, entirely automatic: /that/ name is said and Neve turns away from them, interfering with the whole walking around aspect of this tour. She actually takes a couple of steps away before collecting herself and swinging back around to fall in line again. After a soft clearing of her throat--awkward? Oh yes--and some aimless rearranging of the bright hair that drifts across her forehead, she's reasonably composed again. "I understand, of course. They have every reason," she murmurs for the warnings. And one in turn: "If...we could agree not to use that name. For the moment. When I hear it, I feel the strongest urge to end the conversation. My apologies." At least there are ample distractions. She turns her head to try to spy the treehouse up in the branches. "For the children? This seems like...a wonderful place for children. And gardens..." That brings a small, tentative smile, a glance at the pair she's keeping (easy) pace with. "I enjoy gardening. I've started some orchids. Is...are the gardens open?" Would they be open to /her/, is the question that shies in the background. Micah winces at Neve's reaction, pausing for a moment to wait for her to catch up. "Apologies, honey. I...just. It's hard t'know how t'refer t'things. 'Specially when a lot of us have...a history." He matches the hair-rearranging with sweeping his fingers through his own, though the result is to leave his /more/ of a spike-mess afterward. A small chuckle answers the treehouse question. "For Hive, actually. He designed that'n solo. The kids're welcome, of course, but it's a pretty amazin' set-up. We'll have t'take y'up there, too. The playground was built for the kids specific. Our littlest, Spencer, his only request for the place was a space station. So there's that." An open palm indicates the playground equipment over the other way. "With the exception of private residences, everythin's open. There's sign-up sheets for some of the common spaces for if folks need for somethin' specific, like watchin' a movie in the media room or cookin' a big meal in one of the kitchens or reservin' specific equipment in the craft spaces." He proceeds at a casual pace, stopping here and there by more interesting plants and such. "Jax'n I did a fair bit of the plantin', particularly in the food gardens. Jim's the groundskeeper here. Might do for you t'introduce yourself before gettin' heavy into the gardenin'. He lives over that buildin'." Yet another open-handed gesture at Greenhaus. "An' if y'see what y'think is an /ent/ 'bout the grounds, that's likely him." "She knows Jim." This is flat and quiet, Jax's lips pressed thin together. One side of his mouth hitches upward. "Not for the kids. For everyone. Don't see no need t'outgrow havin' /fun/." He doesn't apologize -- in fact, he looks vaguely /distasteful/ at Micah's apology. His hand scrubs up against the scarred side of his face. "S'a few things that's /locked/ but your keyfob'll open pretty much anything in the common spaces. Occasionally we have common meals or -- I don't know, other activities. With meals we try to shoot for once or twice a week. Ain't, like, /mandatory/ or nothin', not the helpin' or the eatin', jus'. Can be nice. -- Chores, though, those is mandatory. I mean, not any /particular/ chore but everyone who lives here's expected t'pitch in /somewhere/ with keepin' the place runnin'. Gardenin' --" He gestures between himself and Micah, "or cleanin' or whatever works for you. You wouldn't," he looks very faintly hopeful for a moment, "happen t'have a head for numbers, would you?" Neve's hands shift in her pockets, a hidden movement that may well be her flexing her fingers, digging nails into her palms. She has followed the gesture towards Greenhaus but doesn't, or can't, look there long. Easier to pull her attention back to one of the plants Micah has paused beside. A hand is pried free of the pocket to reach out, lightly touch the leaf between thumb and forefinger. "Neve is best for now, I think. The rest is...not entirely there, yet. For me." The matter of Jim is passed over entirely, the subject of chores actually preferred. "That depends on the numbers. I'm terrible with budgets," she admits, "my money-managing skills could use some work. But I was learning grant writing and that requires managing numbers. Massaging them." She shifts a little on her feet to bring herself around to more properly face the pair. Pale and solemn, she is. "I would be happy to help there, if it's required. But...if it's preferred I minimize my presence here, I would understand that as well." Well, now Micah is wincing at Jax's look. His cheeks flare brighter, heat creeping up the back of his neck. "Oh, it's okay. I'm sure we can find things as you're suited to. We'll get you a list of what's still bein' looked for. S'just that gettin' somebody t'deal with the budgets an' finances on a more permanent basis is one of the /bigger/ ones." His head shakes at the mention of minimizing her presence. "No. No. Not in the general case, at least. This is your home an' y'should be a /part/ of it. There /are/ certain individuals that might settle out as exceptions t'that. Dusk. He's the one with the really impressive wings. Um. He's been. It's never /stopped/ bein' rough after what happened t'Ian an' that's necessarily all tied up in what you... She? That cop as was killed." Bah, pronouns. "B's also. Maybe better t'give space to." This last is even quieter. The general gestalt of the tour leads them to the gazebo, which Micah enters before turning back to face the others with an awkward hand rubbing at his opposite arm. "You." Jax is quite /firm/ on this pronoun. "Cop that /you/ killed. -- Micah, you ain't gonna be doin' nobody any favours pretendin' like it was someone /else/ caused all that hurt. S'gonna be rough an' s'gonna be rocky but ain't no way /past/ that 'cept acknowledgin' the past an' movin' on to --" He has, oddly lost his earlier awkward, his earlier blushing. Instead he's just quiet, thoughtful, a small crease to his brows. "-- to somethin' better. T'/bein'/ part of the community. In a healthy positive kinda way. An' people, most people, they'll accept that. Cuz, I mean, you /have/ a past but you /ain't/ your past. 'least y'don't gotta be." His head turns slightly, sunglassy gaze drifting back towards Geekhaus again with a small curl of smile. "I mean, you sure ain't the first of us t'have a rocky history. Think folks around here is used t'a heap of -- fresh starts." "What it did to that officer was terrible, as was what followed. They have every right to be upset, I'll be sure to give them the space they need," Neve allows quietly, without hesitation...and without the proper pronoun. A pale sort of composure is clung to, for the moment. Though she also joins the rubbing party by reaching up to press her fingertips against her temple, and keeps her head lowered as she moves to follow their guide into the gazebo. The shadow it casts over them leads her to lower her hand and raise her head to look around, drifting to the side to run her hand along a rail. "Mmm," is what she vocalizes on the subject of fresh starts. Just that, to begin with, before stealing a glance at them and gingerly broaching what is--to her--a rather sensitive subject--if only because it introduces a narrow sort of tension to the corner of her eyes, the pressing of her lips together. "Do you mind if I ask what my relation to you was? I am assuming we weren't close friends but there was some form of association?" There really is no winning in this phrasing department tonight. "Apologies, Jax, honey, I'm...tryin'. She's been all...brainwashed an' conditioned an' general mind-trickeried t'the point that she's got /intentional/ cognitive dissonance from these things. Maybe even physical pain, I'd bet, the way these people work... Until such time as someone can /undo/ all that mess." He cuts himself off, cheeks darkening again. "I mean, if y'want that. I'm just...assumin' y'want all that artificial construction in your head backed out, but... I'm just tryin' not t'set all of those alarm bells off in your noodle." Sensitive subject indeed. Micah's face just crumples for a moment and he turns away, several deep breaths dragged in for composure. "Y'were one of the very first friends I made when I moved here. Y'saved me from...an assault that was very likely t'get real ugly. Protected me with your own body, the way y'could when y'was...the way y'was. Spent a lot of time-- We were...close." Another pause, a loss of eye contact. "I loved you." "What /you/ did." Jax is not going to let that point /go/, it seems; his tone stays firm if no harsher than before. "An' sure, yeah, she's been all those things, but she /chose/ 'em. Ask Matt. She went with Themis /voluntarily/ knowin' what they was doin' to him an' /then/ they --" He flutters his fingers towards Neve. "The mind-trickery, that was jus' part'a the job trainin' she signed on for." He doesn't actually answer the question about his own connection to Nox, just leaning against the outside wall of the gazebo -- which he hasn't actually entered -- and watching his husband quietly through /his/ answer. His expression softens, head bowing. He pushes out a slow breath, fingers pressing down against the wood. "We /can/ undo it, most likely. Know a lotta folks with a lotta skills. But who you want to be, that's on you." Neve's fingers curl over the railing and grip tightly, leeching her knuckles of the little color they had. She listens quietly and offers up no arguments, for or against what either man has to say. What she has to contribute to the conversation comes at a remove from what they've said, several moments after, when she's had a chance to swallow and take a number of deep, careful breaths. "I would like to sort out what's genuine and what's been put there, yes. Whenever it's possible to do so." It takes some effort but she's eventually able to turn a lash-veiled gaze at Micah /without/ shifting it away almost immediately. "I apologize. For hurting you. And for forgetting," she says quietly. And then, quieter still, "If you gentlemen would excuse me. I think I need a moment before we continue the tour," before she pries her hand from the rail she's holding. Her heels click against the floor as she carefully steps out of the gazebo to pace down the adjacent path. “That would prob'ly be a real help t'you. Y'should maybe. Talk t'Hive an' Lucien 'bout that. Just so's you're aware. Um...things are complicated with you two. You an' Lucien. A lot.” Micah's hand finds the back of his bright red neck, rubbing at it idly. “Of course. Take your time.” His shoulders pull in, then the rest of him, slowly curling into one of the gazebo's seats. Jax just studies the sky, for a time, silent after Neve speaks. He only enters the gazebo after she has exited it, slipping quietly onto the seat beside Micah to curl an arm around the other man's shoulders in a slow tight squeeze.