ArchivedLogs:Interruptus

Interruptus
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra, Jax	2015-02-21 "Guess we'll have some work to do." (Content warning: brief sex, mention of genital piercings. Part of Future Past TP.)
Location <NYC> The Roost - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The second level of this house takes up less floor space than the ground floor, owing largely to the open sweep of balcony that overlooks half the home below. Up here the floors are in natural hardwood, polished and smooth. At one side of the balcony, again, a door leads over to the adjacent unit in the house. One door off the balcony leads to a quiet office space, with a wide metal-and-glass desk, long sofa and armchair opposite a large pair of bookshelves. A tall glass door in the large windows on the back wall leads out to a wide outdoor balcony overlooking the river. The second door leads to Dusk's bedroom, dominated by greens and greys. He has finally actually gotten himself a /proper/ bed to pair with his dresser and bookshelf, king-sized and settled low to the ground onto a solid wood base with a number of drawers built into it. His desk holds the desktop -- somewhat literally. The desk /itself/, with see-through glass body and softly glowing lights inside, has been configured to /be/ the computer case. Closer inspection of a pair of small decorative aquariums sitting to either side of its three monitors finds them to /also/ be computer cases, their inner workings submerged in a pale blue liquid on a bed of aquarium pebbles alongside plastic plants and little plastic castles or fake coral. In this bedroom, too, a door leads out to the same balcony outside. Capping off the balcony at its other end is a guest bedroom, large wood-frame bed with a small end table, dresser, a hammock-chair hanging from the ceiling in a corner, a desk by the window. There's music coming from Dusk's room. The /Cloud Atlas/ sextet currently playing, its strains mostly drowning out the soft growls from within. The door isn't closed, pushed only halfway shut to spill music (and growls) out into the hallway. Inside there's a tangle of limbs and wings, colourful and vivid. Dusk's, today, have been dyed in shades of soft grey with gold lines shot through irregularly like repaired cracks in old ceramic; his talons are tipped in red, a slightly iridescent sheen to their rust-dark tone. His wings are thrown out like a shade against the brilliant white of the snowstorm outside; at the moment he's pressing Isra up against a wall between two windows, body flush to hers and teeth sunk deep against her neck. Isra's wings, vivid cobalt blue shot through with gold veins, press against Dusk's--clearly designed in the same breath--stretched wide and trembling. The rest of her skin, pale blue, has a faint metallic sheen, set off with gleaming gold on her horns and talons. Her arms wrap around him, claws digging into his back. She has thrown her head back as far as it /can/ go, horns stopping her from hitting her head against the wall. A low growl issues from her throat and her tail lashes the air violently, thumping against the wall every few passes. Jax's footsteps are slow and, in socked feet, therefor kind of quiet as he approaches down the upstairs hall. He's dressed brightly, soft cloud-patterned leggings underneath a pink skirt, ombre sweater in shades of blue, glittery pink and blue makeup, his hair many vivid shades of purple and pink and blue as well. With the door open he doesn't think too much of poking his head inside, a knock on the doorframe announcing his presence: "Hey, honey-honey, are y'-- /oh/ oh-gosh I -- oh /um/ 'pologies /um/." His blush is bright, too, flushed deep through his cheeks and tainting the air around him red as he hastily turns his back. In answer to this there's a lower rumble of growl from Dusk. Its uneven rhythm comes out closer to a chuckle, rough and shivering against Isra's skin in time with a swipe of tongue, another thrust of his body against hers. "Just," he murmurs, wing stretching ouuuuuut to nudge against the door, push it to, "a minute." Maybe a couple minutes. The music's volume turns /up/. It's more than a minute before it lowers again, the door opening again. Dusk hasn't exactly bothered with getting /decent/; he's curled a wing around himself, good enough. The music has moved on, softer now, to M83's /We Own the Sky/. Isra has one of Dusk's sarongs--black and rainbow batik, and historically her favorite one to steal--wrapped around her waist in uncharacterically slap-dash fashion. A fresh bandage on her neck, she looks a little dazed, though not unpleasantly so. "Good evening, Jax." This softly, in the clear alto of her higher voice, as she follows Dusk, casually nuzzling his shoulder aside to get past him. "May I get anything for you? Tag left a wide variety of mysterious Chinese desserts when he came by to decorate us." There's still an aura of red around Jax, his cheeks flushed deep. He's leaning up against the railing, looking down over the first floor and scrolling through tumblr on his phone by the time the others emerge again; he straightens with a small start when the door opens again. "Oh! Oh, hi. I, um --" His fist circles his heart as he turns back around. "I didn't mean t'-- interrupt. I jus'. Um. Jus' wanted -- oh. Oh, sweets. Yeah, that'd -- thank you. That'd be -- thanks. Hi. Thank you." "Pfft." Dusk stretches out the wing that isn't curled around him, brushing it lightly against the back of Jax's shoulder. "Just give me a sec, alright?" His thumbclaw flicks towards the stairs in indication. Downstairs. Where the /bathroom/ is. "Get comfortable I won't be long. You want tea, too? We got /plenty/ decaf. There's this one -- spiced -- chocolatey thing that Flicker's been loving." He presses a kiss to the side of Jax's head as he heads towards the stairs. "I should hope you know that your visit delights us," Isra says placidly, "and if you had /properly/ interrupted us, we'd not have left you waiting." She folds her wings in tight and slinks downstairs, her movements slower than usual but no less fluid. When she returns she brings a box of various ovoid blobs in pastel colors, dusted with fine powdered sugar. "Rice cakes--mochi, I think--with fruit fillings," she says. "Probably the sweetest of the lot, though there's a box of dried fruit, as well." Bright green eyes look Jax up and down. "How do you feel?" "Spiced /an'/ chocolatey? That sounds fantastic, thank you." The red around Jax starts to fade at these offers and reassurances. He slips into Dusk's bedroom as the others head down, folding himself veeery gingerly into a seat on the edge of the bed and letting his skirt heap around him. He brightens when Isra returns, fingers fluttering over the box before picking one at random. "Oh -- gosh. In pain like you wouldn't believe." Though he has a /bright/ grin to go with this. "But not from the gettin' blowed up. Jus' spent yesterday down at the studio gettin' needles poked int' me. How're you?" Dusk is soon to follow behind Isra, two mugs in one hand and one in the other. He sets these down on the floor beside the bed, frowning at them and then sniffing to distinguish one from the other. He picks one out to nudge it over by Jax, grabbing his own before he settles down on the bed himself. He snags a piece of red bean mochi on one clawed wingtip. "/Pretty/ delighted. Is there new art? Can we see?" Isra claims the remaining mug and sprawls out sidewise on the bed and stretches, catlike. "I feel quite excellent. 'Tis an ideal day to stay in and drink hot beverages." Her wings fan out behind her, taking up an entire corner of the mattress and drooping down to brush the floor even so. "Indeed, do show us, if you feel comfortable doing so." "Mostly jus' gettin' some of my old work redone. I got my Neverland stars back --" Jax turns around to pull down the back of his sweater and show the new pair of stars nestled at the base of his neck. "An' I'd had the linework on my Lorax sleeve done already but I got all the colour done yesterday. A lotta the work ain't /quite/ the same as it was the first time 'round I kinda touched up the designs some." He takes a sip of his tea, setting it aside and then slowly leaning back to wriggle carefully out of his leggings, hitching up his skirt to show the bright colour on his Dr Seuss tattoo. "S'a new pair'a piercings too. Kinda the most painful," he admits with a crinkle of his nose, "but I figured Lent was the /best/ time if I was ever actually gonna go through with the ampallang an' apadrayva." He tips his head back, first glancing towards the window and then at Dusk and Isra's wings. "/Your/ art looks pretty much spectacular as ever." Dusk leans in, wing reflexively starting to curl towards the vivid new ink before remembering to pull back, not touch. "Yeah, well, Tag gets all the credit for dolling /us/ up. /Yours/ on the other hand, that looks..." He trails off with a slight widening of eyes. "Wait, did you really --" Unconsciously, /his/ legs are crossing. "Fuckow." A shiver passes through his wings. "I mean, /ow/. How long before that /heals/." His head shakes, wings tightening. He leans back into one of Isra's wings, fingers curling around his mug as he nibbles the mochi off his claw. "I'd definitely take getting blown up." Isra studies the new ink with intense, unblinking attention. "'Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.'" This with quiet appreciation. "I would have guessed that the sleeve would hurt more than any piercing, considering how much skin it covers." She watches Dusk's reaction with rare, unguarded perplexity, the talons tipping her wing phalanges curling in around him gently. "What makes these piercings so painful, and why would it help any to have them done during Lent..." Her voice trails off oddly, the alto fading before the bass rumbling beneath it. "I think I have some notion. Google will clear the rest up for me, I imagine." She does not seem either put off or embarrassed by this epiphany. "In any event, may you heal swiftly--on all counts." "Basically forever," Jax answers. "They won't be proper done even after Easter but at least the worst'a it'll be past. -- They're both shaft piercings," he adds, simple enough and without embarassment here, at least. "Got 'em fair deep too. Usually they get done one at a time but I didn't want t'spend the next two years healin'." He smoothes his skirt back down into place, and lifts his mug for another sip. "Honestly if you wouldn't mind," he adds to Dusk -- this time with a small blush! -- "sharin' some blood after it's had a few weeks that might. Help things along." He lowers his mug back down to his lap, resting it against his knee. "Kinda cheatin' I guess but these things keep me off the top'a my game longer'n I'd like." Dusk nestles in comfortably against Isra's wing. One side of his mouth hooks up in quick amusement, but he just tips his mug slightly towards Jax for his answer. "Just. /Ow/. You /know/ I'll bleed for you any-damn-time, time. Like, shit, some motherfucker tries to blow you up and you're a half-second too late because your /piercing's/ not healed fast enough, that's bullshit." His head tips to the side, resting against Isra's shoulder. "Feel like you need to be on the ball more than most people. Never know when -- well. Anything." Isra lifts one smooth, hairless brow, but does not cringe as Dusk did in sympathetic pain. "Impressive. I cannot really conceptualize how much that must hurt, and for it to take that long to heal." She stretches out one hand and plucks a mochi--pale, powdery green--from the box. "I have never had anything pierced, not even earlobes." Her ears swivel forward before returning to a neutral position. "Thanks." Jax nibbles at his mochi, eye lighting in pleasant surprise at whatever flavour he's obtained. "An' yeah, I don't know, things..." Here he trails off, lowering his gaze to his skirt. "Actually that's somethin' I wanted t'talk t'you about, too." The smile is fading from his face, brows pulling inward. "I, um, not, piercings, or -- I jus' mean, bein' on the ball or --" He pauses again, cheeks flushing, and shakes his head, slightly flustered. "Wait no I'm sayin' this wrong. I talked t'Jim the other day. About these -- future -- dreams folks been havin'." Dusk sits up straighter when Jax's smile fades. One of his legs curls up under him. His wing stretches out, wrapping around gently behind Jax's back. "Been a little bit since I had one." Though whatever he is thinking about them pulls his expression into a frown as well. "Why, what's Jim thinking about all this?" Isra's ears press back against her skull, and, though hidden by her body, the light thud of her tail on the bed reverberates through the mattress. "I have heard a great deal of speculation on the matter, but nothing to which I would attribute especial credibility." Her face has returned to the studied calm that is her wont. "What insight has Jim on all this sound and fury?" Jax's fingers fidget with his cup. There's a small ripple of light around him, and his teeth wiggle uncomfortably at his lip ring before he looks up again at the others. "He says -- he says that it's Hive." He pulls in a slow breath. "I mean, that Hive is the one. Doing all this. /Making/ the dreams happen. That he's making the link between times. Sending the dreams. To try to get /us/ to change the future." Dusk's wing tightens sharply around Jax. A small growl rumbles in his chest. "/Hive/? But how the fuck is /he/. A goddamn -- time machine. That's not even -- is that. Where his brain's... fucking... gone." His words are trailing off, voice gone very quiet by the end of this. "Fff." His eyes close, head bowing. "Fuck." Isra goes still for a moment, tail and all. "Who can say what abilities he might develop in five years. For that matter, he might also use someone /else's/ ability." If she feels any shock, confusion, or dismay, she does not show it. "An ambitious project, this. But of the myriad variables that collude to create such futures as we have seen, I do not feel confident that we have the perspective to discern what we need to change, much less how." "I think it is. I think it -- I don't know. That he's doin' this to -- make some kinda link. Bridge. Somethin'. But Jim said he had a -- a dream. But that it wasn't jus' a dream, that he was /there/. In the future. Like he -- went? There?" Jax sounds a little uncertain. His hand lifts to rub at the back of his neck. "I don't think we can know yet what we gotta change but I got a feelin' he's gonna try an' help us learn. He says we gotta be ready though. For --" His frown is deepening again. "Anythin', I guess. Gettin' snatched up to the future." His fingers press harder to his mug, white-knuckled in his grip. "Jim says somethin' happens down the road -- like a bomb. Goes off. In Westchester. Sets this whole thing rolling. Anyway I jus' -- this all sounds kinda crazy, yeah? But. If Hive's gone all Borg-mind to /time/-travel and..." The light shivers around him again. "Guess the least we can do is work with him t'make sure it pays off." "Fuuuuck." Softer and longer, this time. "Time travel's /always/ a shitty fucking idea." There's a low growl in Dusk's voice. It doesn't stop his next words from being: "Well. Sign me up. He comes tapping at my brain, I'll do whatever the fuck he thinks needs doing. Can't say that's a future I have /any/ desire to see." His claws twitch, for a moment. "... if we stop it. Will he... come back?" "What little I have dreamt of it has tended toward the horrific." Isra nurses her coffee, eyes unfocused. "I'd fight it to my dying breath whether or not I knew I was doing, and we must trust that Hive knows--or will know. Do you suppose he means.../physically/ snatched up into the future?" She props herself up on one bony elbow and works her free hand into Dusk's hair, talons scratching lightly over his scalp. "A bomb...the school." This so softly that only her lower vocal folds engage, the words coming out like a growl. "I do not know how to make myself ready for such a thing, but of course I will go when he calls." "My dreams have stopped. I can't say I been upset not t'have 'em." Jax's voice is low. Very faint wisps of shadow coil around his arms. He lifts his mug again, swallowing down a larger gulp of his tea. "I don't really know what bein' ready means. Like how d'you sleep /alertly/." The quick breath he huffs out isn't quite a laugh. He shakes his head, spilling colourful hair down over his eyes, and slumps back against Dusk's wing. "I wish I knew. It's a lot t'come back /from/. But the quicker we get this clearer up, the less time he's gotta spend..." Dusk opens his mouth at Jax's first comment, but clamps it shut again with just a tighter squeeze of wing. "Wait. But if he's -- is /this/ why he decided to..." Now he lapses back into quiet again. His eyes squeeze shut, and he leans back into Isra. For a long stretch he is quiet. "Guess we'll have some work to do."