ArchivedLogs:Nest

Nest
Dramatis Personae Hive, Isra, Melinda
In Absentia	2016-01-24 "Igloos for all, yes?"
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Sunroom - Lower East Side
Bright and warm, this room is set up to enjoy a little bit of the outdoors even year-round. Tall glass panes make up most of its wall in between wood supports, providing a wide three-sided view of the garden and yard outside. As well as the inner doors leading back into the kitchens and dining room, an outer door leads out to the outdoor gardens, as well. Inside, the room is airy and green -- a plethora of potted herbs and plants hang from the ceiling, as well as ring the room in a series of narrow wooden raised-beds that provide growing space for a selection of herbs year-round. Outside of the herb beds that ring the room, this place is designed simply to come and relax; quiet and simple, with clean stone floors and neutral-toned wicker furniture adorned with comfortable cushioning. Some of the chairs ring stone-and-glass tables for eating or conversing; a few more solitary seats come in the form of rocking chairs or netted hammock-chairs hanging from the ceiling. The brilliant glare on the snow outside leaves the sunroom brighter than usual this afternoon, sunny but not exactly /warm/. That hasn't stopped Horus from nesting in a corner of the room -- kind of literally; the boy has dragged some shirts, scarfs, hats, tucked them into Steve's very recognizable shield, and is curled up in a fluffed-up pile of feathers fast asleep. Aside from the pile of feathers dozing in the shield in the corner, the room is mostly empty. Mostly. A pair of coffee mugs are sitting on a table -- long since cold. Hive has claimed a chair by the table, though he doesn't seem to be touching the coffee. His laptop is in his lap, bony fingers absently twirling a stylus between them as he stares, eyes narrowed, at holographic blueprints projected in front of him. Perhaps he is working. It's hard to tell; he hasn't amended them in quite some time. Melinda appears carrying a large paper bag from her work, smelling of coffee despite the fact that she isn't carrying the beverage. She peeks out from the dining room, glancing around for living bodies. She heads directly for the kitchen but pauses a moment later when it finally dawns on her what she saw the first time through the sun room. She rocks back on her heel and turns to walk further into the room, glancing over Hive's shoulder at the layout of the blueprint Hive is working on. She straightens and looks around before announcing, "I have some sandwiches from the shop. Do you want to eat?" The smell of fresher coffee wafts in from elsewhere in the house, and having seen Mel, perhaps, Isra comes in with three cups rather than two, along with a gleaming steel carafe on a black lacquer serving tray. She wears a lavender wrap dress with an asymmetrical hem that falls just above her knees on one side and just below on the other, her elongated feet wrapped in black cohesive bandages (likewise her long, tapering tail). Her skin is still purple with ripples of blue, and the wings mantled behind her are patterned with long lines of breaking surf. A low growl issues from her throat at the brightness in the room, but she pushes into it anyhow, depositing the tray on the table. Her bright green eyes, though narrowed to slits, track to Horus first--one bare eyebrow ridge raising up quite high. "{That's unusual,}" in gruff but quiet Argentine Spanish. Then, to the two waking inhabitants of the room, "{Coffee?}" In contrast to some of the larger projects Hive has had lately, the one in front of him is just a house. As yet far from completion. Hive's slow mechanical stylus-twirling does not slow with the arrival of newcomers, his eyes still fixed ahead of him. << I want, >> his mental voice might be in English -- or it might not, it's really hard to discern, << my work to finish itself. It's strange, no matter how hard I stare it's just not getting finished. >> Melinda circles around the table and begins pulling out small sandwich sized boxes from out of the bag, leaving them label up on the table. She glances over at Horus, just noticing him when Isra eyes him. "OH. Hmmm." She pats herself down before pulling out a bag of dried fruit from one pocket of her coat. She moves just a little closer to him to slide it next to his nest before withdrawing to let him sleep. "{Any idea how he get that... circlething.}" She scowls at her lack of vocabulary before looking up at Isra's final question. "Mmmmm. {Yes, Coffee.}" She sniffs in amusement as she considers the sandwich selection. "{We'd have to call it something else if ... well, it wouldn't be work anymore if it did itself.}" Isra pours a cup of rich, black coffee and hands it to Melinda. Then pours Hive one, as well, without waiting for an answer. Then last her own, claiming a sandwich as she folds herself down on the end of the couch where her wings can drape down over its arm. "{I suppose he really needed a nest. Steve is very indulgent of him.}" Her wings hitch up in a small shrug. Then, to Hive, with the barest curl of a smile on her indigo lips, "{I'd offer to help, but I don't think I'd want anyone I cared about living in a house I designed. Would probably collapse,}" she pauses to indicate the snow outside, "{in a storm like this. If it would stand even in fair weather.}" << Will it still be work after we've automated it all? I'll be perfectly happy once we've outsourced most labor to robots. >> Hive gives his stylus a final twirl, setting it down on the table and leaning forward to open one of the sandwich boxes. << Steve left it. He nested. I don't want to live in a house you built. I like my sleep uninterrupted by rain or falling walls. >> His eyes track out to the bright windows as he leans back in the chair. "Though I've been considering saying fuck it. Just build the new house out of snow. Quicker that way." "Igloos for all, yes?" Melinda takes her mug and holds it close, inhaling the aroma. She takes a quick sip to determine the temperature before setting it down once more, sliding into a chair. She selects a sandwich and opens it up as well. She picks it up and takes a bite, gaze shifting from the blueprint back to the people on the other side of it. "The math failed me - or, rather, the desire to do the math for appropriate angles and weight bearing supports." She takes another bite and licks her lips. "Is this for your home?" This is directly at both of them. "{Left it?}" Isra arches the other eyebrow, glancing at Horus again with only the mildest curiosity. She unwraps her sandwich. "{Thank you,}" this is to Melinda. "{And yes, it is.}" The flood of gentle contentment at the thought of home is quite powerful to Hive's senses, though she looks impassive enough on the outside. "The math I can do, but numbers alone won't keep the rain out or the walls up. Neither," she adds mildly, "will snow." << Some pretty impressive snow forts out in the courtyard already. I should get Spence to build our house. >> Despite having opened the sandwich box, Hive isn't actually touching the food nor the coffee, eyes still fixed outside. "Yeah. The old one just wasn't really cutting it anymore. Though," there's a small twitch at his mouth now, "it /also/ has a pretty impressive snow fort right now. But it turns out people like plumbing? Fucking picky-ass bastards I'm gonna be living with." "Climate change the way it is... it might last longer than you think. Still haven't seen a snow fort with a roof or..." Melinda's mind wanders to the first episode of Avatar: the Last Airbender, "working toilet." She purses her lips and takes another bite, when she finishes, she looks to Isra. "So, we're just two different halves of his glorious brain. Why not take the last designs and build off of them, making things different off of a layout that mostly worked before?" "/I/ didn't ask for plumbing," Isra reminds Hive, taking a drink of her coffee, "just an observatory." Briefly she recalls a cold but clear winter's night, stargazing on the roof of the old Lighthaus with one sharkpup tucked under each of her wings as they huddle around the telescope she'd given them as a housewarming present. "See? You needn't worry. Between Spence, Mel, and myself, we'll have the new snow-house all sorted out in no time." "Clearly our snow wars aren't aiming high enough. It'll be next on my agenda." Brief images of glittering ice palaces and towering snow castles flutter through the others' minds. Hive turns his gaze back towards his work, a very small twitch at the side of his mouth. A very faint grind of his teeth. For one beat of silence and then another he doesn't answer, before, with a small twitch of shrug: "I'm not building it for the same people." Melinda shakes her head and gets to her feet, piling the remaining sandwich boxes into the bag to take to the kitchen. "Yes," she answers moodily, but stops, trying to slow her mind from running through the names and faces of those lost. "Eat your food, Hive. Brains work better when they have fuel." There's still a little warmth in her words, but at the core, the words are dispassionate. "I need to go check on the Sprout." Her sandwich is stacked on top of the pile, still open to the air as she hefts the bag and grabs her coffee. "Thank you, Isra. I'll see you later." "Not sure about the buildings made of /ice/," Isra muses, "too bright by far." Her eyes flick to Hive and linger on him, unblinking. The sharp lance of pain that accompanies the brief flash of Daiki's silhouette through her memory does not in any way show on her face, though her ears press back nearly flat and the tip of her tail twitches. "Take care, Mel," she replies, inclining her head, as the other woman departs. She shifts in her seat and curls a wing around Hive. << We're not the same people we were, either. >> Hive's eyes narrow at Melinda's farewell. He picks his stylus back up, returning to his stiff twirling. He settles back, bony shoulders nestling into Isra's wing. << We're not, >> The words are reflected back to Isra in her own mental voice, though a faint distant echo of it, soft and thoughtful, << -- people. >> Hive's eyes close, cheek pressed to her wing.