ArchivedLogs:Quiet

Quiet
Dramatis Personae Hive, Micah
In Absentia	3 September 2014 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with wending channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. Evening is cooling down the city, a pleasantly mild dusk falling to lengthen the shadows in the courtyard. The smells of the growing flowers and earthy soil is joined, over by the pond, by the sharper scratchier smell of cigarettes, a curl of smoke rising from where Hive is stretched out along the rocks at the edge of the koi pond. He's in a plain white undershirt and cargo shorts, one hand flopped down into the water where his fingertips bump up against the stem of a white lotus flower. In his other hand there is a cigarette, lit but -- judging by the long butt of ash still clinging to it, barely actually touched. The white stick is barely actually still in his grip, held loosely between two fingers where his hand is resting against his shirt and looking like it may be in danger of falling onto his chest at any moment. Micah is only but recently home from work, to judge by his still-damp hair. He has changed clothes for the evening, as well, into patched jeans and a dark green T-shirt on which a T-rex brandishes a pair of adaptive reaching aids under the heading 'UNSTOPPABLE!' His steps are slow through the pathways, simply enjoying being /home/ and being /outside/ and not being smooshed by a throng of people. Catching sight of Hive brings him meandering closer. Assuming the other man either asleep or at least not paying adequate attention, he reaches to lift the cigarette from its tenuous position. Hive must not have been paying adequate attention; at least, at the shift between his fingers as the cigarette is lifted, he startles, hand jerking up from the pond with a spray of water to -- flail kind of uselessly and then fall back with a splash. "Jesus -- fucking -- sneak up like. Gorram. Ninja." His eyes have opened now in a squint, peering blearily up at Micah with this grumbling. Micah's first reaction is just to blush, roses blooming in his cheeks well suited to the garden environment. The second is to chuckle as he flicks the ash from the nearly-spent cigarette before presenting the butt back to Hive. "Prob'ly that's the first accusation of ninja-hood /I've/ ever had. We all know how stealthy I am." He takes his time settling down next to the other man. "Think you was just distracted or half-asleep. How're y'holdin' up?" Hive starts to lift his hand back towards the cigarette but then just nudges Micah's hand forward instead, pushing it towards his mouth so that he can take a drag from the cigarette between the other man's fingers. "Everyone feels. Stealthy. Right now. Not used to --" He closes his eyes again, turning his head away from Micah to blow out a stream of smoke. The question presses his lips together, head shaking. "How was your. Con?" An eyebrow hitches upward at Hive moving his hand. "Seriously, you're gonna make me sit here an' be a cigarette holder? Pretty sure your docs'd have /both/ our heads if they could see it." Micah scoots close up against Hive's side. "Kinda down a sense still. Is it...at all good t'have the quiet finally, or just disconcerting?" His eyes fall closed briefly at the con question. "Mad busy. Even less sleep'n usual. Visited with my family on the way down an' Jax's on the way back. Spence wants t'move to Atlanta. Flicker'n Shane prob'ly have a dozen phone numbers apiece that got stuck into their pockets somewhere along the way. Jax won an award with one of his horror art pieces, then somebody marker'd all over it, but then less-jerk people took up a collection for 'im t'try an' cover the loss, at least. I'm workin' on settin' up a panel for next year." His teeth dig into his lower lip, eyes drawn to the smoke wisps curling away from his fingertips. "Maybe we'll actually be able t'take all the folks we been meanin' to, next year." "Seriously." Hive's fingers linger against Micah's knuckles, encouraging the other man's hand to remain though the weak touch is hardly restraining. "I dropped my first one into the pond. Put up with a lot of hell lately I can be forgiven a." He breaks off again, taking another drag and blowing this time up towards the sky. "Numbers from people in other states he'll never see again. Ideal flirting ground for Flicker. -- Aren't all Jax's fucking. Pieces. Horror." His head rolls to the side, resting up against Micah. "Next year. Maybe." This is exceedingly soft. "What are you gonna. Panel. About." And remain the hand does, despite Micah's protests. "More'n flirtin'," he returns with a lopsided grin, latching onto the less charged topics for a bit. "An' no. Some of 'em are just extremely colourful." The fingers of his free hand pet gently against Hive's forehead. "Next year. Medical concerns for people with special abilities. Might splinter into a second one specifically on prosthetics, depends on the level of interest." "I don't know if you've noticed," Hive tells Micah, a small smile tugging at his lips, "but Flicker is hot." His fingers curl a little bit more firmly against Micah's hand, holding it as he nestles closer. "Shit. I'd go to that one. Flicker wants you to make him a giant robot lizard arm, by the way." "Definitely noticed. He gets all awkward an' blushy if y'notice too much, though." Micah's hand remains still, though his grin turns to more of a fond smile at the nestling. "Yeah, the folks as run the track're gonna feel it out an' see if enough folks feel the same way." The eyebrow quirks upward again, but this time together with its mate instead of solo. "Lizard? That's...oddly specific." "Yeah. He wants to cosplay Sting Chameleon. Though really when he moves he /looks/ more like Boomer Kuwanger." Another drag from his cigarette finishes the thing off; Hive holds the breath in a long while before finally exhaling it. His face nuzzles in against Micah's side. "Which track? Bunch of nerds, I. Can't imagine people /won't/ be interested." "Ah. That explains it." Micah sets the cigarette butt aside on a rock to be more properly disposed of later. Hands properly freed up now, he wraps an arm around Hive's shoulders to hold him closer. "Science. Most of the mutant issues things've been on that track. Was talk of maybe cross-trackin' with robotics for the prosthetics one, since that might draw more of the invention an' engineerin' type crowd." "I think he's actually taking a lot of. Prosthesis ideas from Mega Man so you're gonna. Have to step up your game." Hive relaxes gladly into the hold, nodding slightly as Micah talks. "Science. Good. Feel like science -- mutant -- talks. Less room for bullshit." “Oh jeeze. /He's/ gonna hafta step up his exercises. Stuff that size'll be /heavy/ t'haul around all the time.” Micah's arm squeezes Hive close as he leans in to kiss his forehead lightly. “Mmhm. Well, it ain't like they /got/ a stupid politics track, so. S'at least /intended/ not t'turn into a bunch of folks hollerin' at one another.” "Could start a stupid politics track," Hive suggests, small smile returning. "Not like you don't have. Enough experience. Your family could fill the track on. Your own." “Mmnf. We /live/ on the stupid politics track. That's not for vacation.” Micah taps his forehead to Hive's in a playful-soft headbonk before he moves back. “S'exhaustin' enough goin' to a con without /also/ havin' t'drag daily life into it.” "All those people, I can't fucking. Imagine, I would. Want to shoot --" Hive's brows rumple, and his smile fades as Micah's forehead withdraws. "... maybe it would be okay. Now. Without having to hear." He flicks his fingers vaguely up in the direction of his forehead. "/You/ guys meet any hot nerds?" Micah's nose crinkles at that thought. "Yeah, I can't imagine the non-stop constantly awake crowds of busy-thinkin' folks'd do much /good/ for a telepath as can't turn the ability off." And there the lopsided grin returns. "S'pretty much /all/ meetin' hot nerds whenever y'stand still long enough t'meet folks. An' y'know there's always hangers-on for any kinda art show." "I've heard rumors. All the. Dragon*Con debauchery." Hive's smile hooks up a little bit wider at one side, but then fades away. "Suppose I'll have to. Live it vicariously. Was a good time, then?" His hand pulls up out of the water, leaving a wet splotch on his undershirt when it comes to rest on his chest. "Crowds were always shitty. But now it's. Very. Empty." "Was pretty much just /meetin'/ folks for us, though. Crowds'n all were tough enough for Jax this trip. Whenever we caught time t'be back in the room he really needed the alone time." Micah's grin pulls into a smirk. "'Sides the fact that most of the art show hangers-on was girls." His arm squeezes tighter at Hive's shoulders. "Y'know y'got enough chatterboxes 'round here if y'want us. Just drop by any time an' we'll talk your ears off just as sure as we kept noisin' up your head b'fore." "Huh. Even up here at his shows he has a lot of. Fangirls. Maybe I need to get into art." Hive lapses back into quiet, after this, posture sagging slightly into Micah as though all this speaking has been too much /effort/. "Spence and B stopped by in the morning. Talk about fucking chatterboxes your kid never shuts up." His brow rumples inward again. "Though neither did you, before. It's. Freaky. I keep thinking everyone's. Dead." "Hm. Don't got enough of the ladies at your doorstep already?" Micah accepts the extra weight easily, just holding onto Hive that much tighter. "I know," he replies, the fondness in his tone making it sound more like a compliment than a detraction in his view. "Y'wanna borrow 'im? We can have 'im stop by regular like, after school. Won't have a moment's quiet." His head shakes slowly. "We're here, sugar. We're still here. Just...send a text or call for someone an' I'm sure there'll always be at least one of us as can answer quick an' you'll see, every time." "Hah." Though Hive's warmer smile suggests he's not averse to this idea. "I know. I mean. Rationally I -- but it's still. I wake up and." He shakes his head, curling a little closer to Micah. He snorts, then, huffing out a sharper breath. "Been a long-ass time since I had much of. Ladies at my." A small shudder runs through his shoulders. He opens his eyes, though, head tipping slightly to flick his gaze briefly towards Greenhaus. "Weren't sayin' it's /not/ irrational. Just not sayin' that y'don't need t'give in to irrational things sometimes. Go ahead an' contact folks, an' it'll send the irrational nigglin' away for awhile, at least." Micah hugs Hive closer, obligingly. Perhaps it is also convenient cover for the flaring of red in his face and neck at Hive's last comment. He tries to ignore it and pushes on to another answer. "Not s'long as y'might think, honey. Just some barriers in the way's all." "Figures that when I get rid of one barrier it's. Together with a whole host of other -- fff. Turns out brain surgery doesn't leave you with a ton of sex drive." Hive winces as he swings his legs down from the rocks, unsteady and failing to push himself the rest of the way into an upright position. "You want to help me back home? Could even be some dinner in it for you. Flicker was picking up Vietnamese." "Wouldn't imagine it would." Once Hive has extricated himself, Micah gets up into a better position to brace and assist. "Y'don't even need t'ask, sugar. An' certainly don't /need/ t'feed me. Though I won't turn down delicious food." An arm snakes beneath Hive's to pull him up. "Or company. I kinda hated leavin' right after y'woke up." "I would have been pissed if you /hadn't/ gone." Hive is very slow in the process of getting himself comfortably into a seated position and then levering himself to standing by bracing against Micah. "-- for Flicker's sake more than yours," he admits. "He needed to get the fuck out of here. Too much -- fucking. Dwelling. Been a rough few months." “I know. I needed t'go. I just...hated t'leave. We're allowed contradictions.” Micah assists with a hand here and a bracing arm there until Hive is on his feet, then supports him with an arm wrapped around his ribs. “Flicker's needed...yeah. It was pretty much exactly what he needed. Think he may actually be ready now. T'start workin' with 'is arm.” "Thank fucking god. I know it was a lot to deal with but he really needs --" Hive shakes his head, looking for a second distinctly guilty. He leans a little more heavily against Micah. "I'm glad. That you went. That he went. That he went /with/ you." "Shh. Ain't none of this no fault of yours. He needed time. He's taken time. Now he may be ready. That's all. It's natural with that kinda trauma." Micah gives Hive a squeezing-hug as they walk, not far to go for it given he was already half-wrapped around the other man to help him inside. "It's good that we went, yeah. Missed you, is all." Hive shh's, perhaps as much out of exhaustion as out of actually accepting Micah's words. At least his brow creases, still, his teeth briefly digging down against his lip. His arm squeezes back around Micah, head sagging slightly. "Missed you, too."