ArchivedLogs:Rainbow Brite

Rainbow Brite
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah	2 February 2014 More strange dreams leave the city a little more /colourful/. (Part of the Morpheus TP.)
Location <NYC> Candyland - Village Lofts - East Village
This bedroom is bright, bright, bright, a cheerful riot of colour in contrast to the more minimalist scheme outside. It, too, has a plethora of lamps to lend it even more light than what comes in from the large windows opposite the entry; many of them bear stained-glass coverings in cheerful mosaic patterns to add still more colour to the room. The walls have been painted in pale blue with darker blue trim, though one is instead a mural of surreal fantastical artwork, odd unearthly plant and animal life spread across it in vivid colours. There is scattering of furniture here -- a bed on the wall adjacent to the window (usually dressed in vividly patterned mismatched sheets), a dresser opposite the bed, standing beside the large closet, both in wood that has been painted black and then covered in a swarm of brightly coloured images, too. The wall near the door bears an enormous handmade shelving unit, similarly painted; it is filled largely with meticulously organized art supplies. By the window, a desk stands in as-yet-unpainted wood; besides laptops and drawing tablet it often bears an eclectic mix of items, too. Comic books, knitting supplies, a hiking pack of climbing gear. Jax has slept uneasily -- though tonight, not out of any nightmares and more out of the massive amount of fresh tattoo work decorating his skin from all the retouching he's been getting done. The past year and change has been /difficult/ on his ink, to say the least, and this weekend finally getting it all fixed means a whole lot of sore. It may be worth it when it's through but sharing a bed with him last night has meant putting up with a lot of tossing and turning. For all that, his /dreams/ seem to have been rather cheerfully pleasant, if the vivid technicolour that's been painted across the room through the night is any indication. It's hard to tell exactly when he wakes; unlike usual, they don't seem to immediately fade upon waking. At least, outside the windows, it's still vivid-bright. Jackson rubs at his eye blearily, reaching for his phone to check the time -- still plenty-early before he needs to get to church. And then stares towards the window with a bemused look, a slow blink like he's not quiiite certain if he's still dreaming or not. He slowly slides out from under the covers, padding barefoot over towards the window. He's in pajamas, soft blue yoga pants, soft black t-shirt, fresh ink bright against his skin and in places starting to peel. Outside the window, the dim early-morning city is -- /very/, very bright. Tompkins Square looks kind of like Rainbow Brite moved in. Jax looks startlingly /un/-startled by this, but his slow-sleepy droop of head against the window suggests he's not actually /really/ awake just yet. Movement in the bed has Micah stirring slightly, pulling up at the covers with one arm. He snuggles closer to the empty spot where Jax /had/ been, the other arm reaching over it and...meeting with blankets and mattress. His sleep-mussed head turns slightly on his pillow, hazel eyes cracking to peer down at that empty spot. His arms help to pull him up into sitting before working on straightening his lavender henley shirt so that it covers the chilly bare spot on his stomach over the waistband of his Mane 6 cutie mark pajama pants. Micah's gaze shifts around the room, blinking a bit at all the brightness, before settling on Jax. "Mornin', hon. Any less sore by now?" "I think I tattooed the whole /world/." Jackson gives this in sleepy-mumbled reply, pulling away from the brilliantly colourful scene at the window to shiver at the cold nearer it and stumble back towards bed. "Crazy-sore. Y'want t'lotion me back up after I shower?" He settles down onto the edge of the bed, leaning over to curl his arms back around Micah's waist, head nestling against the older man's stomach in a much fiercer /warmth/ to cover that bare spot. "Hey, honey-honey, you seen my crucifix?" Maybe the bright /rainbow/ of world outside outside the window reminded him; the cross in question tends to hang /in/ the window, a stained-glass swirl of rainbow for the cross with a twisted wire-frame Christ to hang inside it. He nuzzles into Micah's stomach, and then looks back up. /Startles/ back up, when the colours outside persist, his arms squeezing tighter, harder, around Micah, with a hard catch of breath that might be surprise or might be pain from the lingering soreness in his freshened-up tattoos. "-- Micah I ain't /doin' that/ anymore." "Mmn. Sounds like it was a happy-bright dream." Micah snuggles (gently) against Jax when he moves in close. "Get t'put m'hands all over you again? Not gonna hear me complainin'." A hand works up the back of Jax's neck and into his hair, both spots conveniently new-ink-free. He spares a glance to the window. "No, it's not where it usually is. Maybe it fell? Should get down an' check the floor at some point. Sometimes that happens with stuff that's hangin'." At Jax's statement, he sits up a little straighter to look around again. "What, y'mean the colourin'? That's /usually/ you. Don't think Tag wandered in an' coloured things up while we were sleepin'." "Mmm. It was happy-bright, I mean. I get t'put colour all over --" Jackson's head tips downwards, a small rumbling purr in his throat as Micah's hand works at his neck. "Oh, s'nice." For a moment he relaxes. Just a moment. Then he shakes his head quickly, looking back towards the window as his brain wakes up more fully. "No no -- honey-honey c'mon look it ain't even --" He shakes his head again, pointing towards the window. "It ain't even wandered in here. Tag woulda had to go colour the whole /world/. Honey-honey, that ain't the window painted. That's actually what it looks like /outside/." Jax sounds a little uncertain whether he should be alarmed or not. "S'good." Micah leans in to kiss Jax's forehead. "Y'don't get a lot of happy-bright dreams." Jax's almost-alarm does catch his half-asleep attention, finally, and he pulls away just a bit to lean toward the window and look /out/ it. "Oh. Ohgosh, that is kinda...everywhere. An' you're not doin' that no more?" His brow furrows slightly. "Does what it looks like out there match what happened in your dream, by any chance?" Jackson turns his face back towards the window, looking out it. Then briefly down around it as though it might be -- leaking? But the inside of the apartment looks just like normal. He blushes deep at the question, nodding his head sheepishly with a guilty duck of his head. "I was jus' -- makin' the world more colourful," he explains to Micah bashfully. And, even more bashfully in a soft mumble. "... like Rainbow Brite." He rubs at the back of his head, nose wrinkling, and slides down the bed a ways so that he can open up the window, despite the chill. He sticks his hand out the window curiously, though it looks normal when he does so. Just as curiously, he picks up Bedtime Bear and sticks /him/ out the window. The bear does transform, swirling in a multitude of faintly glittery pastel colours until Jax pulls him back inside. Jax shivers, tugging a sweatshirt on as he pushes the window closed again. "... I did tattoo the world. Ohgosh Micah. Oh, /gosh/." "Ain't nothin' t'be ashamed of. Colour's nice." Micah giggles at the Rainbow Brite addition. "Ohman, I've tried describin' that show t'people as've never seen it, an' they always end up lookin' at me like /I'm/ the crazy one. I wanted a Sprite. They're so /fluffy/." Micah shivers /visibly/ when the window is opened. "Oh/gosh/, ohgosh, hon, it's freezin' out there," he complains as he ducks back under the covers. Though the complaint is soon lost in watching the colour-changing experiments going on. "Oh, wow! I guess this is more along the lines of the Hug Bank than the little...statues an' stuffed animals an' flowers. I wonder how long that'll last? S'kinda... /I/ sure wouldn't mind things stayin' bright an' glittery." "Aah -- lo siento, I just, this is so /strange/, I didn't -- hang on, apologies /again/, I just want t'see if --" Jackson turns to pull /extra/ blankets over Micah before turning back to the window, this time with his sweatshirt pulled down over his arm. He stretches his hand out the window again, watching thoughtfully. Slowly peeling back his sweatshirt to watch, too. He's a little shivery by the time he pulls back in, but /fascinated/. "M'skin didn't change colors," he muses, "but my nailpolish, m'sweatshirt, an' my ink /did/. Cool, huh?" His head shakes as he shuts and locks the window again, wrapping shivery arms back around his knees. "-- You could try dreamin' about a Sprite," he adds with a giggle. "I mean. We kinda have a Sprite. But you could try dreamin' about the fluffy ones. You know," he admits, nodding towards the window, "this is -- a little bit closer t'how the world looks to me all the time /anyway/, maybe." Micah wraps the blankets tighter around himself, still shivering, but watching as Jax conducts further experiments. "Well, that's handy. Ain't nobody gonna complain that y'turned /them/ colours. An' havin' free brighten-ups for your clothes while you're outside is nice." He giggles, at first, about the idea of dreaming up Sprites. "If I'm gonna direct a dream, wanna use it t'find Matt." His teeth meet with his lower lip. "Speakin' of which. I'm tryin' t'figure out who's /startin'/ all this, now that we know it ain't me. I'm gonna talk t'Lucien next...t'see if there's anyone new that we've both met recently an' we don't know what powersets they have. I mean...it'll be hard, 'cause can't /neither/ of us discuss people from work. But. There might be some overlap. Anybody y'can think of immediately that fits the bill for you? 'Cause we're lookin' t'add you to the list to check, now. Should talk t'Peter about it, too." "Ohgosh. I meet /so/ many new people every /day/ but I don't know who'a them -- Micah I /work/ at a clinic for mutants." Jax's nose wrinkles. "So unhelpful. I don't know if any'a our clients done met all y'all too." His teeth scrape against his lower lip. "I can't /think/'a anyone I know who knows you /an'/ Luci an' certainly not Peter /too/ -- but I'll try an' think. If it's someone from the Clinic, though --" He just shrugs helplessly. "Maybe we should stop meetin' so many people. Have you tried," he suggests to Micah cheerfully, "bein' less friendly?" "I know...s'hard with the kinda work we all do...runnin' into so many folks an' not really...s'posed t'discuss. But. Maybe. I mean, what're the chances of /alla/ us knowin' this person just from work? Should be at least one just met 'em out an' about. So...we can just discuss who all we've met /around/ recently. An' maybe that'll click with someone else's memory of meetin' someone...an' then we can just. Ask 'em?" Micah giggles at the recommendation to be less friendly. "Oh/gosh/, honey, I know this is a long shot. But right now it's the only shot we got. 'Less y'know some kinda /locator/ person out there. Human...compass...type-thing." He /does/ still sound a little amused at this, at least. Early morning brain is a bit silly. The smile falls off of Jackson's face, briefly. "-- I mean we did," he says with a small shiver, a small swallow, "we just. Arjun was. That was his. Finding things. Locating things. Or people. But he was the first person to die with the -- zombie --" He shakes his head, scrubbing his hand through his hair and looking back towards the window. "Don't know any others, though." His nose crinkles up. "Which is kinda a shame because oh my gosh with Spence around it'd be useful I think he done gone an' lost another set'a scarf an' mittens. -- Oh. Gosh. I should maybe shower an' start thinkin' 'bout clothes an' church an' -- maybe eventually some day my crucifix'll turn back up. I wonder how far my Rainbow Brite-ing's spread." "Apologies, hon. Didn't mean t'bring up...troublin' memories." Micah reaches up to pet at the back of Jax's neck again. "Ain't no trouble t'get 'im more scarves an' mittens, hon. An'...yeah. You go ahead an' shower. I'll check under the bed for the crucifix as soon as I'm brave enough t'face /not/ bein' under blankets. An' get y'some lotionin' when y'get out of the shower. Then everybody can get dressed. Hm. I'd guess it didn't go /too far/. Maybe the street, or the block, or...even just the general area. Can't imagine it'd go farther than that. With the sheer amount of energy that must take." Jackson nuzzles into the touch, then leans forward, pressing a small kiss to Micah's forehead. "Y'stay good an' warm s'long as y'can, honey-honey. Crucifix-searchin' can wait till way later after you're up an' dressed. -- Maybe it ain't anyone new. What if it's jus' like. Gaetan. S'the only kid in that family ain't showed no signs'a nothin' afore an' they /all/ got mind-powers, it'd run to type. -- Anyway, right, /shower/." He dots another kiss to Micah's cheek this time, before sliding back off the bed to flit off towards the door. Micah nuzzles into Jax's neck after that kiss. “Well...we can always have Joshua take a look at Gaetan, too. He's a little young, but it'd bear investigatin'.” He tips his head back up to kiss the angle of Jax's jaw before the other man heads off. “Okay. Searchin' later. But I /will/ look. It can't have run off very far. Prob'ly just fell down is all.” "Prob'ly. Thanks, love." Jackson flashes Micah a grateful smile. "It means a lot to me, is all." He glances once more to the window, to where the cross used to be. And the vivid-bright world beyond. Then disappears out the door to go start his day.