ArchivedLogs:Out of Frame

Out of Frame
Dramatis Personae Jax, Spencer
In Absentia	2017-06-27 "I'mm'a start teaching in a fake moustache an' sunglasses, it'll be /super/ incognito."
Location <NYC> {Workhaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
The wide entryway leads into a semicircular sitting area with plush modular chairs, sofas, and huge beanbags arranged around two low tables. The bright, open expanse of the house fans back and out from here, executed in stunning industrial style with extremely conservative usage of rough stone walls. Through a door on the right is a library boasting an eclectic but extensive collection of books, a cozy reading nook, as well as a state-of-the-art computer work station. Opposite this is a media room with a projector mounted overhead and a formidable sound system on all sides, the windows still admitting plenty of light when the blackout curtains are pulled back. Beyond the sitting area, toward the back of the house and separated from adjacent areas only by plentiful black granite counters, are a pair of kitchens, each stocked with their own appliances, cookware, servingware, and utensils. Adjoining the (vegan and kosher) kitchen on the right is a simple dining room with a long oval table and chairs designed to accommodate a range of body shapes. On the other side, tucked between the general-purpose kitchen and the media center, is a guest room and a full bath. At the center of the entire house is a cylindrical elevator shaft of steel and glass with two floating stairways coiled around it like an immense double helix. Both elevator and stairs lead down out of sight and up to a circular landing joined to the second storey wings by walkways that leave the space above the sitting area open. Above the kitchens is a sun-drenched split-level recess, the lower half a conservatory enclosed by glass and the upper half a rooftop garden. The whole is walled with glass and lets in copious quantities of natural light softened by lush greenery. It's note yet dinnertime, but the savory smells of spinach boyos slowly fills the house as they bake. Spencer takes off his blue TARDIS apron -- underneath he wears a black t-shirt with a giant red numeral '5' on the chest (within it, in subtle red-on-red, is the outline of an X-Wing flying down the mechanical trench on the surface of the Death Star) and blue jeans nearly worn through at the knees. In the course of cleaning up, he has already checked the oven three times. /Somehow/, this has not caused the boyos to cook any faster. Now he wanders listlessly from room to room, blinking out of one to reappear in another. Obie chases after him each time he reappears, but generally gets distracted before actually catching up. Finally, he comes to rest on one of the giant beanbags -- or slightly /above/ one, really, so that he falls down onto it with a satisfying flop. Music chimes briefly throughout the lower level of the house -- not the doorbell but the cheerful tones of the door itself as someone taps their keycard to its lock. This time it is playing the hook from Ryan's "Brighter", an identifying herald that leaves it unsurprising a moment later when Jax opens the door. He toes off his glittery silver sandals by the door, tucking them onto the shoe rack there before heading further in. He looks a little worn, kind of pale, kind of drooping, but he perks up bright -- literally so, colour returning to his cheeks and bright metallic makeup dusting itself across his face as his hair turns a vivid turquoise ombre. "Oh /gosh/, you got it smelling /so good/ in here --" He has dropped his messenger bag alongside one of the tables in the sitting area, eye drifting off toward the kitchen. There's a sudden eager bounce, restless on the balls of his toes, though he doesn't dart off to the kitchen /quite/ yet. "I wasn't even expecting no dinner on this is some kinda miracle." Obie abandons the toy he has been nosing around the floor and barrels to the door, dancing around Jax with ears and tongue flopping wild. Spencer also pops up. "Pa!" He rolls off of the beanbag, disappearing before he hits the ground and reappearing beside his father to wrap him in a quick hug. "I made boyos, they're not ready yet, but they will be /soon./ How was your day, did you /needle/ a lot of people?" This inquiry is cheerful enough. "Oh and I made strawberry lemonade too do you want some?" Jax leans down to pet at Obie, fingers rubbing at the beagle's silky long ears until he's /double/-intercepted by a hug. "I didn't needle many people at all, actually, but I needled one of 'em a pretty long time. An' oh man I gotta show you how it turned out, though, there's this whole amazing nebula thing happening now over their chest, you'd love it." He returns the hug in a fierce (and fiercely warm) squeeze. "Strawberry lemonade sounds like /pretty/ much the most fantastic thing that's happened yet today I biked an' it was /hot/. How your day been, honey-honey?" "Whoa a /nebula/, is it a /specific/ nebula?" Spence's eyes go wide-wide as he bounces up and down on his toe-tips. "What /kind/ is it? Can we show Isra I bet she would know." He darts into the kitchen, pours two tall glasses of pinkish lemonade from a pitcher in the refrigerator, checks the oven again for good measure then blips back to Jax with the drinks. Obie runs after him toward the kitchen, but looses track of him when he teleports away. "I hope I used enough strawberries there were some of those /really/ sweet little ones left but it wasn't a /whole/ box." This is kind of apologetic. He sits down on the beanbag more carefully this time, sucking down a good third of his lemonade in one long gulp. "I took Obie to the park and he played with /so/ many dogs, and I hung out with Gae, and I went to the library, then I pulled some weeds in the garden, and /then/ I made the lemonade and the boyos." "Yeah! I think it was a -- well, I don't remember which its name is." Jax takes the lemonade with a bright smile and a signed thanks, gulping half of it down thirstily before he flops into a beanbag as well, scooting it over closer to Spence's. The air in front of him darkens, black first before it begins to speckle with a dusting of glittering stars. After this, a bipolar nebula, twinned curving wings fluttering outward in cloudy swirls of pink and white with a shadowy central belt connecting the two lobes. "Hourglass? It's real pretty, anyway. I'll show you the ink too I'm real proud how it done." The nebula lifts higher, grows, expanding overhead to fill up a large chunk of their ceiling space. "Your day sounded good and packed. How's Gae doin'? You find anything good at the library?" He's back to sucking down his lemonade after this, slurping at it kind of greedily. "Ooh!" Spencer's eyes go very wide at the image Jax creates. "That's /so/ pretty. It's called the Butterfly Nebula but it /does/ look like an hourglass." He tips his head, watching the nebula ascend. "It's a planetary nebula, a /lot/ of those look like hourglasses." Takes a sip of his lemonade. "We went to the library together, I got a book about /bees./ Gae...he's alright." He hesitates. Chews on his lower lip. "Did you know he's going to Xavier's in the fall?" "Planetary? Is it becoming a planet or something?" Jax tips his head back to study the colourful swirls above them. "Bees? Like a non-fiction or like a -- bee novel?" This last news makes him sit up straighter, lowering his glass and temporarily sparing the remaining quarter of his drink from being gulped down as thirstily as the rest. "Gae? For real? But he's --" Colour flushes deeper in his cheeks. "I mean I thought he was real keen on focusing on his music an' all the was planning..." But even as he speaks he's trailing off, brows slowly knitting together. "No, it's becoming a white dwarf." Spence scrunches up his face. "I don't know why it's called a /planetary/ nebula but I'll find out. The book is non-fiction about how bees do stuff and there's /pictures/ from inside a hive like they used a tiny camera and the bees look /huge/ it's /so/ cool." He pauses for breath and gulps down some lemonade. His brows crease faintly. "He /was/, and they /were/... But he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it because --" Exaggerated eyeroll. "-- well, cuz he's /Gaetan/. He'll /still/ focus on his music /and/ be totally awesome at it just...with with less help from school." "That /does/ sound so cool. I want to see the inside of a hive, that sounds great." Overhead, the amorphous wisps of colour are shifting, reifying into harder lines and angles within their two wings, neat honeycomb-patterning drawn among the pink and white cloud. The speckled dots of white starlight grow a little bigger, a little fuzzier, faintly striped in definition now as they begin to swarm, crawling in and out of the ridges of comb painted up into the heavens. "I bet Taylor'd love that book too, he been tending the hives at the school a while. You interested in that he could likely tell you lots an' lots about bees, him an' Rasa both." Slower, now, he sips down the last of his lemonade. "I don't doubt none he'll be amazing no matter where he land up. Just -- there's a whole lot to be said for having a supportive community 'round you." His fingers scuff through his hair, leaving it rather mussed. "Guess will need to try twice as hard an' make sure he finds that." "Star bees!" Spence bounces on his beanbag so vigorously that he almost dumps the remainder of his lemonade on himself. "I wonder what /space bees/ would be like. Probably /humongous/ and chill, eating /stardust./" He seems to like the idea more the more he talks about it. "The book is called /Out of Frame/, I'll show Taylor tomorrow." Finishing off his lemonade, he stares up thoughtfully at the hive nebula. "I think he might feel weird about it if he /knows/ people are /supporting/ him, though. Probably not if it's like /me/, but I mean grown-ups." Then, much too casually to be actually casual, "Anyway, I'll go, too. Xavier's I mean. For ninth grade. I'd have to go to a new school /anyway./" "Pollinating galaxies," Jax suggests brightly, "helping new star systems grow." One of the glowing astral bees flits down from its hive, a comet-tail of stardust trailing behind it. It lights in Jax's hair, dusting shaggy metallic locks with a scattering of glittering light that blooms, slowly, into constellations of their own tucked twinkling and small in among his turquoise mop. "What, you ain't got no faith I can be slick about it?" Jax's wide-eyed injury is far too exaggerated to be genuinely offended. "I can be /sneakily/ supportive. I am /well known/ for my powers of subtlety." The starlight in his hair is glittering brighter, here. He bites down on his lip, wiggling at a lip ring. "Xavier's, huh? How long you done been planning this?" "Star bees are the /best,/" Spencer declares, watching the star-dusting of Jax's hair. "They roll the dust into asteroids and planets, too. And I think you're /very/ slick, but so is /he/, you might have to up your subtle support game." He considers the question. Chews on the brim of his empty glass. "I thought about it /before,/" he says finally, hesitant. "But this time? A few weeks." He shrugs, but doesn't quite succeed in looking entirely nonchalant. Overhead, a few of the bees are collaborating -- a bit more dung beetle than honeybee, now, rolling up stars and stardust into neat shimmering balls that they trundle through their honeycombed home. "Work on being mad sly. Got it. I'mm'a start teaching in a fake moustache an' sunglasses, it'll be /super/ incognito." He nestles a little further into his beanbag, fingers drumming against the side of his glass. His jaw tightens, slow, then relaxes. His nod is slow, eye fixed thoughtfully on his youngest son. "I mean. /You/ know I'm gonna support /you/, yeah? No disguise or nothin'. 'Less you want me to wear a funny hat." It's hard to say whether Spence is more taken by the bees' literal world-building or Jax's suggestion for his new teaching strategy. Either way, his mouth has fallen open in delight, and he is practically vibrating out of his seat. "That will /totally/ work." He nods approvingly. "/No/ one will recognize you." He trots over and plops next to Jax. "Gracias, Pa." This with a heavy lean against his father. "Oh, and you should /definitely wear a funny hat. Maybe a top hat with flowers growing out of it? Or a beehive hat. Or a hummingbird feeder hat with little straws so you can sip on it all day." His pocket suddenly starts buzzing and playing the Imperial March. "Ooh boyos!" The word barely make it out before he vanishes to reappear seamlessly in front of the oven. "Supper's ready if you are!" Jax's shoulder bumps up against Spence's, his hand dropping to squeeze the boy's briefly. "Psh. It's your friends that's lucky to have you." His lips purse with the serious consideration he gives to Spencer's suggestions before just combining all of them -- the hat that forms over his stardusted-hair has a generally top-hat /shape/, though its crown is built out of a translucent-bodied hummingbird feeder, golden (and slightly drippy) honeycomb curled around it to compose its brim, bright colourful flowers tucked into its plastic-tubing band. He's on his feet soon after Spence vanishes, bright smile back on his face. "I /been/ ready for these since I walked in the door."