ArchivedLogs:Pleasant Distractions

Pleasant Distractions
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra
In Absentia	2013-09-17 '
Location <NYC> 403 {Geekhaus} - Village Lofts - East Village
There's kind of a college-dorm feel to this place, though some of its occupants have left college behind. Entering the apartment finds visitors greeted by the perpetually messy living room, a mismatched assortment of couches and chairs (and milk crates) surrounding the wide table in the center. The wall holds a range of posters; some political, some sporty, some from video games, and a string of white lights strung over the kitchen doorway might be a holdover from Christmas. The kitchen adjacent is just as cluttered, its table unfit for eating due to its perpetual covering of books, papers, cereal boxes, projects; the fridge is usually sparsely populated. Ketchup. Beer. Not a lot of food. There are two bedrooms here, split between the four people; the fold-out couch in the living room (often folded out!) suggests that at least one of them does not actually claim a room as their own. With his roommates all /gainfully employed/ outside of the house, the early evening on Tuesday finds Dusk home alone to take care of readying the atrocious mess of their apartment for their weekly guests. As such, he /has/ been tidying -- presumably, anyway, there are many dishes gathered from around the house and stacked by the sink to be cleaned, and the living room's large table bears neater /stacks/ of sourcebooks and mail and homework than it usually does. At the moment, though, tidying has fallen by the wayside, Dusk's easily distracted attention commandeered by one of the books he /should/ be putting away; Flicker's copy of Bruce Schneier's /Liars and Outliers/. He has sunk down to a crouch on the floor beside the table, wingtips brushing against the floor as he pages slowly through the book. He's dressed casually, faded fraying jeans, barefoot and shirtless as is his predilection when home. Three firm knocks at the door precede its opening. Isra appears in the doorway, swathed in a wrap dress dyed in a sunset spectrum from bright yellow at the collar to vibrant red at the flared hem, which falls about mid-calf. It has a low draping back gathered well below her wings, tucked in close. If having her back exposed to the unseasonable chill fazes her at all, she gives no indication. She carries a much-worn canvas grocery bag (Property of Cornell University Astronomy) over one shoulder. "Good afternoon, Dusk. I have brought some food and drink for tonight." Pausing just inside the door after closing it--her stillness strikingly predatory--Isra surveys the apartment in one fluid sweep. "Would you care for some assistance in your preparations?" Dusk glances up at the noise at the door, eyes somewhat comically startled-wide and his posture freezing. His expression relaxes a moment later into a bright fanged smile, and he sets the book sheepishly back atop a pile of others. "Oh, man, hey. Isra. Wow I was afraid I'd lost track of time and it was like. Seven already, uh." He scrubs a hand through his messy crop of hair, unfolding himself to his feet. "You could -- whip me if I start reading instead of cleaning again? That'd probably be mad helpful. It'll probably be helpful if we can see any of the tables in here by the time games start." He moves towards her, one hand reaching to relieve her of her grocery bag while one large wing curls around to brush against Isra's. Isra extends her other wing and mirrors Dusk's gesture, using the opportunity the reach into the bag he now holds and extract a boxy parcel sitting on top of various snack containers. "This is for you." She holds it out to him as she withdraws from the wing-hug. The item is covered in a starry night sky gift wrap--completely with outlined constellations--that looks as though it were applied by a very meticulous five-year-old, using twice as much paper and tape than necessary. "I can help you uncover the tables, certainly," she says, appraising the mess in earnest now, ears pressing back against her skull. "As for whipping you...I have not demonstrated much success in it so far." She allows a slow smile, fangs gleaming. "I fear there would not /be/ any tables left after we were through." "For me? Woah, hey. Thanks. What's the occasion?" Dusk sets the bag down right at his feet, a thoughtless gesture that seems to forget the bag as soon as it is out of his hand; the distraction /perhaps/ goes some way to explain the continued accumulation of /clutter/ in the apartment. His wing stays brushed up against Isra's as he turns the package over in his hands, inspecting the constellation-paper with a growing smile. The smile sharpens at Isra's answer to him. "Hey, not /all/ whipping is /quite/ as mobile as what we usually get up to. Though -- I guess getting tied up for it first would, uh, kind of put a crimp in my being able to keep cleaning." He glances around the apartment, laughter in his eyes as he tears off the paper. "Though, I mean, if we /did/ want to -- well, you can play most games just as well on the floor." His eyes widen when the paper is off, turning over the box of a Leap controller that he now holds. "Oh! Oh, /man/, awesome --" He's already turning away, books /and/ groceries forgotten, to move his laptop off the armchair it's been sitting on and onto the table. "I mean, thanks!" "Your birthday--belatedly. I would not have had it in time for the party regardless, but there was some run-around with the shipping." Isra picks up the bag and brings it the kitchen table, but ends up setting it on a chair instead. Dusk's estimation of the clutter appears largely accurate. She begins stacking up the books within her reach. "Alas, I did not bring any restraints with me. Or whips, for that matter." She walks the books over to the nearest bookshelf with available space. "You are most welcome, and I am glad you like it. There are more sensitive motion controllers out there, but Leap's popularity means a more robust open source ecosystem. It came well-recommended by some makers in my acquaintance." "Yeah, I've heard some good things. -- And uh, I'm pretty sure Jax has a /few/ we could borrow." This comes amused as well, though with a touch of distraction as Dusk opens up the box, opening his laptop as well to start setting it up amidst the mess on the table. "Though I guess we might want to save that till Friday. How's, uh -- how's things going out at school? Everyone gets so freaking busy all of a sudden when the year starts back up." There's a faint trace of rue in his tone at this. "I look forward to it, though it might well be you whipping /me/ if we decide it in the ring." Isra returns to the table and, shuffling loose papers together, leaves them atop a stack of notebooks. The other miscellaneous items--dice, figurines, erasers shaped like sushi and such--end up in a sterilite bin. Turning a full circle, careful to keep her tail away from anything frangible, Isra directs her triage efforts to the kitchen sink next. "It has been both busy and marvelous." She plugs the sink and starts filling it, periodically running taloned fingers through the stream like a bored cat. "I've proposed a field trip to the Rose Center this semester, but am not holding out too much hope." She moves a wing aside so she can actually see Dusk when she glances back over her shoulder. "How have you been?" Something between her intonation and the lateless of the question suggests she does not mean it as a platitude at all. "S'alright, I'm pretty much a switch, I'll be happy no matter which side I --" Dusk is temporarily distracted by setting up his new toy, but he glances up once he hears the water running. "-- oh, shit, I'm doing it again crap this is where you were supposed to hit me, you don't have to do all my freaking dishes." Though he doesn't stop her, but he does get up to finish cleaning off the table, bustling between living room and bedrooms as he returns books and papers to their proper locations. "Where's the Ross Center? Are they resisting or is the school resisting? They've taken the kids some interesting places, not always sure how they manage it without problems." He is quieter as he returns empty-handed to the living room, rifling through mail and electing to trash most of it. "I've --" This earns a long hesitation rather than any platitude. "... been. Keeping it together. Kind of... barely," he admits wryly. "It would have taken too long to borrow a whip and learn how to use it." Isra's deadpan delivery leaves some doubt as to whether she is altogether serious. "I gave you a new toy knowing full well you would want to have a look. I do not mind--and besides, I enjoy doing things with my hands." With the sink half full, she begins loading it with dishes, setting aside one suitably sized bowl with a bit of water and soap. "The Rose Center is a part of the Museum of Natural History--the wing with the planetarium in it. The school administration is reluctant to herd that many mutant children into Upper West Side with things being as they are, even with a telepath along to smooth things over. They are right to be concerned, of course." She narrows her eyes at a particularly grimy plate and shuffles it to the bottom of the pile for extra soaking. "I...am glad you are holding together, and wish there were more I could than offer moral support." A faint smile. "That, and a hand with clean-up." "Well. You're getting pretty decent at using your fists, anyway." Dusk's lips curl into a smile, here, a small glint of fangs flashing behind them. "Oh, yeah, that sounds like it'd be great. Though I can see how -- that'd be kind of difficult. I gotta admit," he tosses a wry glance downwards towards his floor, "I would /not/ want to be the teacher in charge of keeping people from freaking the hell out over Taylor. -- Oooor the one in charge of keeping Shane from /grinning/ at everyone who stares." He tucks the un-trash mail in a basket by the front door, moving to the kitchen to get a roll of paper towels and some spray to wipe down the table. "I really freaking needed the hand with clean-up, though. It's /much/ appreciated. The rest of it --" He shakes his head as he spritzes the table down. "Is what it is, you know? I feel like -- /everybody's/ been going a little crazy this summer." "I know it is not the most /practical/ of field trips." Isra does not seem particularly apologetic for the impracticality of her idea. "Still, I think it may kindle excitement for science in the haptic learners. In addition to being a great deal of fun." She deposits another clean plate on the drying. "As for Shane--I would be inclined to /let/ him grin at anyone who stares." "A good deal of human behavior evades my comprehension to such an extent that actual turmoil--that which is beyond the pale to most observers--seems lost in the noise." Isra's tail flicks back and forth rapidly, belying the preternatural calm of her words. "The events that have transpired in recent months, however..." She falls silent and rinses off a few plates. "Yes. There is a /feverish/ quality even to the calm periods now." "They always love field trips. And -- difficult or not, I think getting them /out/ once in a while's gotta be good regardless of what they're learning. I get it's dangerous but it's kind of bullshit to keep them /too/ cooped up in there." Dusk leans down, wiping the table clean and then dry in quick strokes, pausing here and there to scrub harder at miscellaneous sticky places, remnants from drink glasses or takeout containers. He straightens once the table is clean, heading back to the kitchen to throw out his wadded-up paper towels. He reaches around from behind Isra, one wing brushed up against her side nudging her /just/ slightly to one side to open the cabinet beneath the sink and tuck the spray bottle away. "I don't know if there are calm periods, exactly. It just kind of feels like -- pausing between breaths." The wing stays even once he's closed the cabinet again. "And people are freaking crazy, is why human behavior's hard to pin down. You seem to do alright with me, though." "That is the case I have made." Isra's ears twitch, then relax. "At least I have confidence /this/ administration has the students' best interests in mind, whatever they decide. As for being cooped up--well, that only works to a degree anyhow." This last she admits with a faint, fond smile. She turns slowly, tipping chin forward first to ensure her horns are pointed well away from Dusk's face. As such, the gesture looks in practice much more /coy/ than she perhaps intends. "It may be that I have misestimated my capacities, or it may be..." Her normally steady alto drops out so completely that she does not even finish forming the word about to come out of her mouth. She clears her throat, but does not avert her gaze. "...It may be that you have inspired an extraordinary effort on my part." "/Hah/, yeah, uh. We've, uh, had a fair number of your kids crashing /here/ when they sneak out, now and then," Dusk admits with an unapologetic grin. "Better than a lot of other places in the city, I guess." His eyes skim back around his slightly-cleaner but still-pretty-messy apartment. "... Marginally better." His head tips upwards, as Isra's head tips down. There's a small smile on his face, one hand lifting to trace fingers against the curve of one of Isra's horns. His dark eyes meet hers, smile tugging a little wider. One of his wings extends to curl gently around her, brushing up against the side of her arm. "-- I don't think I can take much credit for you being amazing." "I probably have some sort of professional obligation to object." Isra bites her lip, her fingers digging into a towel she had picked up to dry something. "However, since I have not actually witnessed any truants here, my plausible deniability remains in tact." She extricates one hand from the death grip she had developed on the dish towel, starts to lift it, then hesitates and drops it to her side. Turning inside the warm embrace of Dusk's wing , she curls one of her own around him. "No one can really take credit for extraordinary genetic phenomena." A single wing talon comes to rest on the back of his head--a light touch, but still sharp--and gathers him closer. "Being...attracted to someone feels remarkably similar to jumping off of a building." Dusk's breath catches at that sharp touch. He moves closer easily, his wing curling more fully around her. "They're basically the same," he agrees with a small smile. "Can be the most exciting or the stupidest thing you're likely to do. But you catch yourself, or they do. And then you fly." His wing tightens, and he tips his head back, pressing his lips softly to Isra's. Isra's eyes slide shut as she leans into the kiss with entirely more enthusiasm than skill. She does not seem to know what to do with her hands at first, but they eventually find their way around Dusk's waist and up to the base of his wings. A soft noise half-way between growling and purring starts up deep in her throat, more readily felt than heard. In Dusk's throat there is a quiet rumble, too, a soft growling sound that thrums through him as Isra's hands climb up his back. He holds the kiss, deeper, lips parting against Isra's as one hand slides up to cup the side of her face, long fingers curling around the back of her head. One wing stays curled around her, though the other quivers faintly behind him. One of Isra's hands starts to tighten on Dusk's shoulder, but she catches herself before her claws break skin. She emits a faint whimper that somehow does not interrupt the rhythmic purring, and her hand closes around the hair at the base of his neck instead. At length, she pulls back from the kiss and exhales shakily, nuzzling the hand on her cheek. Bright green eyes flutter open and gaze into Dusk's, blinking less often than human eyes are wont. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out at first. What she does finally say bears no vestige of the documentary voice-over formality that usually characterizes her speech: "Oh...wow." Dusk's thumb brushes against Isra's cheek, his own faintly flushed when she breaks off the kiss. His eyes meet hers, his quiet smile returning with a small glint of fangs. His wing squeezes gently around her, his breath coming out shakily. "-- Yeah. Wow." His smile curls wider, eyes cutting around the apartment. "... I think I got distracted again." Isra's ears flick forward and her eyes light up, pupils dilating. "I...am not sorry." She allows a toothy grin. "But we /do/ still need to clean up." Reluctantly, she uncurls her wing from around his shoulder and slides her hand from his hair, tracing the line of his jaw with the point of one talon. "Though...I would appreciate further lessons. Perhaps after that whipping one of us owes the other." Dusk's scruffy-stubbly jaw tips down, geeently nuzzling against the touch though careful of the talon's sharp point. His wing slides down off of her, too, both wings drooping to drape down behind him. He leans forward, his next kiss a light brief peck. "There'll be plenty of time for more lessons later." His grin spreads to match Isra's. "And more whipping. C'mon. Let's get this place ready."