ArchivedLogs:Intergalactic Booty Calls

Intergalactic Booty Calls
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Matt, Melinda, Tag, Tola
In Absentia	2014-12-21 '
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 may be the longest darkest night of the year but it'd be hard to tell, looking at the Commons' courtyard right now. The place /glows/, glitters, /shines/. Bright and vibrant and right now it can probably be seen from very far off. Strings of lights twined around the huge trees leading up to the Treehaus, outlining the Treehaus, draped over and around the Commonhaus, strung over the lintels and balconies of the private houses, wound around the posts of the gazebo, up and down the posts of the stone walls and gates into the neighborhood. But, now, to cap it off -- /the/ tree. It's an immense one, a huge red cedar that sprung up overnight (thanks, Jim) and is currently undergoing the process of being draped with a million bright lights. A /billion/ bright lights. "-- Eleventy billion," Flicker is reporting, from where he seems to /hover/ in the air near the midsection of the tree, coils of string lights slung over his shoulder like climbing rope as he winds it around, "and we're not even half done. -- this place could blind someone." "Too many lights are /almost/ enough." Tag is pulling yet another string of lights from its package and winding it around his forearm lengthwise to make a coil more easily deployed. The tiny bulb emerge from the packaging plain, but take on a myriad of tints as they passe under his hand. He's in a pale blue jacket with Rainbow Dash cutie marks on each shoulder, and his hair divided into six segments in ROYGBV colors. "We could leave around some basket of complementary sunglasses...?" His grin flashes quick and bright as he looks up the the tree. "But yeah. Needs more lights." Melinda is outside helping as much as she can. She's wearing a heavy coat with a small child strapped to her chest. It looks less like a child at this point and more like a gingerbread cookie. Tola is wearing a brown winter suit, with full arms, legs, and a hood. The whole thing is decorated with white pipings and colorful gum drop buttons. The embrace of the green wrap that harnesses the infant to Mel's chest obstructs some of the decoration, but its important to keep her safe and out of the way while the lights are hung. Not that Melinda's all that helpful. She is steadily pulling packages of lights out of their boxes and unwinding them in preparation. She's got a mug of cocoa near by that is keeping her warm, but her attention is shifting toward the tree a lot. "I'm not complaining about too bright. Tola prefers it." "At this rate we might need to give them to all the Lower East Side." Flicker's grin is bright. Flashing his way around the tree, uncoiling the string of lights to wind it around and around and around. "Dusk has some plan for the pattern they light up on --" His head just shakes, at this. "Oh. Man. I don't think I can feel my fingers anymore. I think this may be a sign we've been lighting a -- while. Do you think," for a moment he's shimmered a bit lower to ask Mel, thoughtfully, "we should put lights /on/ Tola? The pups have a lot of EL wire." Bounce, bounce, bounce. Matt is just one more spot of bright among the bright -- maybe he doesn't /glow/ but his smile is bright-warm-cheery as he crosses through the bright-lit courtyard. "Wo-o-oah. And I thought it looked fantastic /inside/ -- wow. You all haven't frozen to death yet, have you?" He has a very large thermos cupped between his bare hands -- in just sweater, jeans, sneakers, he doesn't look like he's dressed to be out here over-long. "I wanted to make sure you aren't frozen to death yet holy /wow/ this is -- I'm pretty sure they can see your houses from space now." "I'm with Tola." Tag sets down that coil to plug the next string into it. "And oh man, we could all get wired up, Tron-style." He bounces up and down a few times. "You want gloves? Either of you? I got like three pairs, because I keep losing them." The gloves currently on his hands are fingerless, one sky blue and one brilliant yellow. Then he's bouncing again, waving to Matt. "Ahoy! We are not dead yet. We gotta get this done so Dusk can send a signal to aliens." He looks entirely earnest, grinning broadly. "But /you/ oughta be wearing more than that. Whatcha got there?" Bouncing a little closer. "The only concern I have is that she stay warm too. So, if we can line the inside of some clothes with lights, I'd be thrilled." Mel smiles at Flicker, a free hand moving to rub lightly at Tola's covered knee and leg. She looks over at Matt and Tag, her brows rising. "Oh, I'm okay, for now. Keeping an eye on Tola though. She's certainly not old enough to tell me when she's starting to feel cold. But you two may need a hot cocoa break. Or we can hit round two with feast inside. That'll warm you up, too." She pauses, "Hey, Matt. How's your holiday season going?" "I just hope he's telling the invading alien armies something kind." Flicker returns to his light-stringing, blip-blip-blip, winding lights up higher and higher around the monster tree. "We're not /quite/ frozen to death. I just can't feel my fingers. The meat ones, I mean. /These/," he lifts the mechanical hand, "are doing just fine. Hive's chair is pretty Tron'd up. Christmas Tron, anyway." "I just came to bring cider. It's full of fantastic spices. Just off the stove. Wanted to make sure you didn't all turn into icicles out here." Matt waggles the thermos invitingly, then offers it out to Tag since Mel has Baby and Thermos already and Flicker is in midair. "It's -- going pretty excellent, especially after tonight. I think I need to get back inside before /my/ fingers freeze, though. 'sides, Luci's cider isn't going to finish serving /itself/." He curls an arm around Tag in a quick hug, pecks Mel lightly on the cheek. /Waves/ to Flicker, far away as the other man is, and turns to trot back inside. "Ooh cider!" Tag accepts both thermos and hug. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" He brings the bottle back over to the staging area, barely avoiding coils of lights and garlands. He unscrews the cap, pours himself a cup of cider, and sips at it with probably less care than a beverage so hot ought to command. "Ai! Yep, it's hot!" Then straightaway offers it, still steaming quite forcefully, to Mel. "Unless you want it in your cup? Not sure cocoa and cider mix so well." He looks up to track Flicker's progress across the sky. "Hey, you wanna come down and have some this? Your fingers may appreciate it even if your tongue doesn't." Melinda laughs softly and waves to Matt as he takes off on his own. "Well, good, I'm glad that it's going so well." She shakes her head and looks up to Flicker. "Oh, come now. I'm relatively sure he's being friendly. I'd wager he's just taking the opportunity to extend some of his usual warmth to the rest of the cosmos. Oh, I'll have some of yours. I don't think my cocoa could use that kind of warm up." She puts her mug down and goes closer to take the cup from Tag gingerly, trying not to spill. She blows across the surface. "Smells amazing." "Just off the stove," Flicker reminds, light and amused. "Thanks, Matt!" He finishes wrapping the coil of lights currently draped around his shoulder, shimmering his way back down to the ground. "...his /usual/ warmth?" This puts a deep flush of red across his cheeks. His smile twitches. Wider. Crookeder. "So. We're doing /all/ this work for -- intergalactic -- booty calls?" "Well, if Star Trek's any indication there is a /surplus/ of booty in space." Tag is bouncing up and down on his toes again, presumably to keep himself warm. The lower branches of the tree have acquired a dusting of iridescent frost that sparkle in the lights. "But seriously, I /am/ curious what he's got planned with those." The walkways are frosting over, too, though in clearly artificial patterns: giant snowflakes of every design. "Well, it is Dusk." Mel gives a little shrug then takes a sip, blowing across the surface again before taking another sip. "Mmmm. You're just going to have to ask him. Mmm. I think I'm going to take Tola in and put her to sleep. It's getting pretty late for her anyway. Don't let yourselves get too cold, okay?" She takes another sip from the cup before leaving it behind for Tag and Flicker, then picks up her cocoa mug and trudges off to her apartment. Flicker leans in, pecking Tola lightly on the forehead. "I'll try to --" He grins, a little bouncier as the walkway starts to frost over. "Not do /that/." He picks up the cup when Mel leaves it down, sipping at the cider. "If anyone's going to play /siren/ to extraterrestrial life it's probably Dusk." Brightly amused, he flits over to pick the lights back up, holding two of the colorful bulbs in front of his eyes before skipping back into the air to continue stringing them. "... guess that means we'll just have to make sure we do a /real/ good job, huh?"