ArchivedLogs:Make Your Own Rainbows

Make Your Own Rainbows
Dramatis Personae Micah, Hanna	18 May 2013 Hanna and Micah meet again under happier circumstances.
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. The park is bustling with people this Saturday afternoon, though the people do interrupt their bustling often enough to spare a glance skyward. The sky has been a dull grey for much of the day, but the clouds have not decided to sink or darken as of yet. With no obvious signs of rain, people are enjoying the Spring warmth out of doors. Jogging, skating, throwing Frisbees and balls for excited dogs, eating food from mobile vendors, and intently studying chess matches, the park is full of activity. A small group has even clustered near a girl with electric blue hair strumming a guitar and singing in a mellow alto voice. Near the fringes of that group, a young man with tousled auburn hair has set himself up on a park bench. Micah is in heavily multicolour-patched jeans and a T-shirt bearing the logo from Reading Rainbow, altered to add a Rainbow Dash on a fluffy cloud reading a Derring-Do book. He is knitting something rectangular, its pattern slowly emerging into pastel rainbow-stripes. So he's feeling particularly rainbowy today, okay? His foot is also tapping along idly to the rhythm of the nearby guitar girl's song. Despite the threat of dreary weather, Hanna has made a point to take some time today and get out of the bakery, opting for a walk through the local park for a change. The curvy islander's choice of clothing is no different from her usual bakery wear - a cheery colored swing dress over a small contrasting crinoline, and bright red Mary Jane flats - although she has ditched the crisp white apron back at the shop, apparently. She is idly strolling along the central pathway of the park, humming quietly to the tune of the blue haired musician, a bemused smile on her face as she looks around. Her mannerisms don't quite scream "tourist", but they are certainly pointing her out as "not from around here." Micah has, naturally, been people-watching as his hands work the knitting needles largely unsupervised. Hanna’s bright appearance is somewhat difficult to mistake, and he gathers both needles into one hand in order to free the other for waving. “Afternoon, Miss Hanna!” he chirps once she reaches reasonable proximity to his bench. The pleasant default of a smile that he had been wearing broadens into a friendly grin with the greeting. There is a momentary pause in Hanna's stroll as she hears her name called, and after a brief scan of the park, her eyes settle on Micah in all his rainbowy glory. Returning the wave and delighted smile, Hanna begins making her way closer to him, still smiling as she stops in front of the bench. "Good afternoon," she says, only pausing momentarily before recalling his name and adding, "Micah. Right?" The older woman tilts her head to the side with a grin, nodding to his colorful knitting project, "Opting to preempt nature and bring a bit of rainbow out to the world?" “That’s me,” Micah confirms, his grin going playfully lopsided. He has gone back to dual-wielding the needles, continuing to loop the yarn in automatic fashion as the bulk of Micah’s attention remains dedicated to Hanna. “Maybe I just like to make subtle promises about not drownin’ everythin’, right up front,” he suggests with a giggle. “But…nah, just figure a little colour can’t hurt to brighten any day. An’ this kinda especially.” He gives the rectangle of forming fabric a bit of a shake, causing it to shimmy-dance for a moment. “You heard of Project Linus?” Hanna chuckles at the reference, shaking her head, "Ah, how kind of you to give us the good and colorful, without the whole stuck on a boat with livestock bit. Makes you a good deal kinder than some." Her eyes cast skyward a moment, as though expecting to either be stuck by lightning, or immediately rained upon. "That is the project for donating baby blankets to kids who wouldn't really have them, right?" Hanna nods towards the multicolored fabric, "That's sweet of you. I can't craft for crap, otherwise I'd try and contribute, but," she shrugs, "My mom was a cook, so that's what she taught me." Micah goes right on giggling as Hanna plays along. “Yep, that’s me. Pure benevolence. Lackin’ in the all-knowin’ and all-powerful departments, however. Fortunately or unfortunately.” He nods at Hanna’s recognition. “Yeah, they mostly donate to hospitals. Closest y’can get to mass delivery of /hugs/ to folks as need ‘em…without bein’ creepy. Also, a good place to refer that well-meanin’ granny who keeps makin’ your whole family ugly sweaters.” A soft ‘hmm’ buzzes across his lips. “Oh, no, we all do what we can. Baked goods are a load of happy in sugar form, so I’d say you’ve got your gift right /there/. I can’t bake t’save my life… Thanks for keepin’ so much of the vegan stuff around, by the by. S’nice t’be able to get treats for Jax that he doesn’t have t’make himself. Hard to find, though.” A bright laugh echoes from Hanna's ample chest, and she shakes her head, "Good to know, I suppose. Rather have a conversation partner who is benevolent, and decidedly not all-knowing." She returns the grin, and nods, "My gran only made one ugly sweater for me. Mom told her no, and threatened to burn any more of them in the pizza oven at her cafe. That thing was a glorious assault on the eyes - I still don't know how she managed to cram that many patterns into one single garment." The island woman smiles at the compliment to her baked goods, "I'm glad you enjoyed the treats - I operate on the idea that a good cupcake can pretty much always put someone in a better mood, even if it's temporary. As for the vegan baked goods, well, I try to keep something around for everyone, and the only thing I can't really do is gluten free. Shop is too coated in flour to want to risk making someone sick by labeling it. At least eggs, butter, and milk aren't typically airborne." Micah spares a glance to the knitting again as he finishes a row and moves on to the next. “Ha! That description makes me wish for photos. It sounds kinda spectacularly awful. Prob’ly a hipster out there’d be happy as an ironic /clam/ over such a find.” He nods along to the kitchen descriptions. “Gettin’ t’be a fair amount of the gluten free places around now, though. It’s gone full-on faddish.” His look is practically /starry-eyed/ for a moment. “OHgosh, I just pictured y’goin’ all Sorcerer’s Apprentice with baked goods.” Apparently this is a good thing? Hanna shudders at the thought of someone wearing that sweater, ironic or no, "I don't think I've got the photos from that birthday up on the wall. If I do, I need to take them down. I swear, that thing all but /glowed/ from the number of colors and patterns in it. Mom said she'd given it away when I outgrew it, but I think she burned it, just because." She raises an eyebrow at the thought of magicking the ingredients about, chuckling to herself, "Cute. Doubt that would be a good idea - I have a hard enough time on occasion keeping all the ingredients going into the right direction with my hands. I'd get distracted, and poor Jayna'd end up coated in icing again," she snorts to herself, although keeps that memory to her own imagination. Micah snickers at the continuing description of the sweater. “Alas, poor Madness Sweater. Given a funeral by fire. Hopefully not in the pizza oven, though. Burnt fabric isn’t a good scent /or/ flavour for pizza.” An impish sort of smirk plays across his features. “Oh, not a good idea to get anythin’ accomplished, no. But so much fun! I can’t imagine anyone bein’ /entirely/ upset about bein’ coated in icin’. Messy and sticky, but… Icin’!” The knitting needles occasionally clack or scrape softly as the rectangle of fabric continues to grow into a longer rainbow. “She seems like a nice girl,” he adds in reference to Jayna. "I rather imagine that she didn't burn it in the pizza oven. She guarded that thing like it was a child - it was just a convenient threat, since bonfires close to the base were frowned upon," Hanna says, a mischievous smirk on her face, "And no, Jayna didn't exactly appreciate the icing as much as I did." Hanna shakes her head, "She doesn't actually, um, need to eat anymore, as long as she gets outside during the day time for a bit. Too much food makes her nauseous. Granted - she can't have coffee anymore - it's why she's the barista...it's the closest she can get to coffee - at least she can smell it, y'know?" “Base…hm, military brat?” Micah inquires idly. Then his eyes go chibi drawing wide at Jayna’s predicament. “That sounds…kind of like torture. Smellin’ coffee an’ baked goods /all day/ and not gettin’ to have /any/ of ‘em.” He shakes his head, his grin sneaking back already. “I’m gettin’ to know more solar powered people, I swear.” "Sort of," Hanna explains, "My dad was in the military, or so says my mom. Stationed at Pearl Harbor. My mom ran a local organic cafe a few miles off base. Never did really explain how the hells they ended up together long enough making me, since I never saw the man. Don't know if he even knows he has a kid." The mention about Jayna's predicament gets a bit of a shrug, "The job was her idea. She apparently missed the smell of coffee, so she asked if I needed a barista for my shop when I was talking to her about it." A reminiscent grin graces Hanna's round features, "So, she followed me to New York. Or, rather, she offered the pressure free promise of being able to smell coffee all day." The mention of solar powered gets a curious look from Hanna, "Solar powered? Huh, I'd never thought of it that way, but I suppose you could describe her like that. Always thought of her as more of, y'know, a sentient ficus. And I say that with love, not to be cruel." "Ah...just sounded like it, I guess. I grew up nearish an Army base, and tended to get along with the transplant kids as ended up at my schools a little better'n the locals." Micah's grin creeps wider. "Don't take bein' around another person long to /make/ a baby...just to raise one. Sorry y'didn't get t'know 'im." Loops of yarn press on in their steady passage from one needle to the other. "Yeah, I've collected a really interestin' friend group since movin' up here... More'n one's a bit sun-happy." The Jayna-as-ficus comment sparks a snort of laughter. "Aw, not a ficus, though. Should be somethin' with bright flowers...less /office plant/." He seems rather entertained by this musing. Hanna laughs out loud, "Oh, I know. But, my mom used to protest the base fair regularly. I don't even know how their paths crossed in the first place, even for a moment." She idly pulls a cookie out of her purse, nibbling on the pastry with a grin, holding out a small baggy of jam tarts to share with Micah. "I didn't miss him. My mom's family was spectacular, and I had a whole clan to care for me, so it was generally a good childhood." Another chuckle comes at the office plant comment, "She's called herself that, I picked up on it at some point. I personally think she's a bit more of a willow than grassy. Her flowers are more on the white and pale pink side than anything bright. Usually they only show up the first few weeks of spring." One of Micah’s eyebrows sidles on up his forehead a ways. “Well, perhaps they got into an impassioned argument and that led to--“ A sudden flush of candy apple red appears across both cheeks and the bridge of his nose, even climbing the tips of his ears. “Me stoppin’ that train of thought ‘cause I’m talkin’ about your parents,” he finishes in a rush of words. Moving right along! He watches his knitting more closely than it requires for a tick…but then there are tarts! “Ohgosh, you’re like a /portable/ bakery, thanks!” Never one to turn down sugar, the knitting gets transferred all to one hand again as he takes a tart to nibble on. “I’m glad things were happy for you, anyhow.” He smiles again at the attempts to classify Jayna. “White is a bright colour, if you think about it, really. Especially out in the sunshine. All reflective. Willows are nice, too.” He cocks his head to the side in thought. “S’long as you don’t get one too close to your well. Then it’s an absolute mess.” An amused snort is Hanna's response to Micah's train of thought, and she shakes her head, "My mom's reaction was often not too dissimilar to that. So I get the feeling your version isn't too far off from fact." She grins and shrugs, apparently not fazed in the least, "No worries. I've had far, far stranger conversations before." The comment about willows near a well gets an unexplained snerk from Hanna, "True - white is pretty brilliant, especially in full sunlight. It just tends to get lumped into the softer, pastel colors, rather than associated with the presence of light." “Oh, it’s not that it’s strange so much as potentially awkward,” Micah explains. “I mean, yeah, I have ended up in a conversation that went from ‘hi’ to a discussion about the more /interestin’/ uses of liquid latex in a matter of minutes, for example. But I /try/ not to get terribly inappropriate with people as don’t know me that well, yet.” Not to mention that he’s making himself blush more fiercely just bringing that up. “Mmhmm. Think white gets a bad rap. All pale and plain. Makes folks forget about the bright and glowy. I usually think more like…fresh snow in sunlight.” The remainder of the tart disappears into his mouth with a clear expression of ‘yum’. His freed-up hands return to needle-clacking. There's a light giggle from Hanna, as she puts the baggy of jam tarts back into her purse, "Sorry to have made you blush so much. Wasn't my intention, truly." She smiles, shaking her head, "I should be getting back to the bakery. Jayna's holding down the fort for me while I had to run a delivery 'cross town. She's fine on her own, but I don't like to keep her waiting for too long." The bubbly woman smiles, and offers a bit of a curtsey, "It was lovely seeing you again, Micah. Stop by some time, we'll make sure there's plenty of blueberry goods to go around." Hanna starts off back towards her original direction, humming merrily as she goes.