31 March 2014
Maybe...a lead? (Part of the Future Past TP.)
<NYC> Tamarind – TriBeCa
The Tamarind Tribeca, the Suresh family restaurant, has been a staple in Tribeca for many years. It's been remodeled since the zombie riots, and it looks like the family put the insurance money to good use. The restaurant also has a growing reputation for being mutant friendly.
The entrance has dark brown wooden benches, to sit and wait for a table, with the host's stand just off to the side from the door. The interior is all dark wood, with round tables of varying sizes seating two to eight. Two dozen paintings line the walls, showing various regions of India in stunning oil-paint landscapes. Each has a small brass placard attached to the wall just beneath, naming the area depicted there.
Lining the far back wall are three alcoves with low tables and lush cushions lining the floor and walls, intended to seat small groups of six or so. Glass sconces on the walls provide a warm light for the little hideaways. Each individual alcove has a peaked arch for an entryway, framed with richly colored curtains in deep reds and shimmering golds, made of vintage sari materials and pulled aside with simple coordinating cords. Inside, the rich embroidery and texture of the fabric is echoed in subtle decorations and accents. On the back wall of each is a smaller oil painting of different Indian landscapes kitsched out to look like windows.
The restaurant is known to have a higher end dinner service, but they do something a little different during lunch. Rather than regular table service, customers place their order with the host or hostess, and take a number to their table where the food is delivered fairly quickly. Evenings are full-service and carried out as classy as possible, catering to even the most obvious of mutants.
Dash! Micah is in a /hurry/ not to be late for the evening's reservation set for Dusk, Maya, and himself at Tamarind. He is sort-of jogging on his way to the door, though he slows for the walk up to the hostess to give his name. Fortunately, he is not in work clothes, though he clearly didn't have the time to run up to Westchester and back to shower and change. Calling on an old trick of doing this at the gym proved handy enough again today. His auburn hair is still a little damp, given the high humidity of the day, spiked just a touch about the edges. He has changed into one of the few 'nicer' sets of clothing picked up at the thrift store post-Lofts-explosion: charcoal slacks, decent black shoes, and an emerald green button-down shirt with the faintest hint of forest green embroidery in a vaguely vine-like pattern at the collar, breast pocket, and around the buttons. He has an olive newsboy hat perched over his slightly-wet hair and an army green canvas jacket folded over one forearm, the fabric of which he fidgets at with one hand.
Maya has arrived, already, and is -- not actually seated yet. She's standing -- or /has/ been standing nearby one of the side alcoves, dressed brightly in a blue sari that fades in gradients of pale-sky blue to rich royal blue down by its hem; its neatly pleated drape falls over one shoulder with very intricate -- also vine-like -- patterns of silver mixed in with the blue. The set of glass bangles on her wrists clinks as she lifts a hand to wave cheerfully to Micah; her other arm has a thick woolen cape-like garment draped over it, still faintly damp perhaps from some earlier spot of drizzle.
"Oh, Micah, hello. They had a table ready for us but it was in a booth -- I asked them to switch for a /table/-table so they're getting that ready now." She is traipsing over with a warm smile, arm opening wide for /hug/.
There is not much real need to rush because Dusk is definitely Not Punctual in his arrival. Also doesn't match either of the others for Niceness. He has at least traded out jeans for khakis, a pinstriped black-on-black button down, though he's paired these with a (new!) pair of Vans sneakers and a large trenchcoat that he is shedding to unleash his enormous wings once he gets inside. "Oh, man." His fanged smile curls wide as he arrives. "You look gorgeous." His eyes are kind of flicking over /both/ the others so it's hard, really, to tell /who/ this is directed to.
"Maya, good evenin'. Oh, good, it looks like I'm not /too/ late in gettin' here. Been runnin' 'round like a maniac lately." As he approaches, Micah pauses, head tilting to regard the wonderfully-adorned woman with a warm smile. "Though I'm almost glad I /didn't/ have more time t'get m'self t'gether better. Weren't no amount of time gonna make me suitable for sittin' next t'you, lovely as you're done up." He accepts the offer of a hug with a tight squeeze delivered to the shorter woman. "An' that was right thoughtful of you. Booths are pretty near impossible t'get Dusk's wings settled in comfortably. Ain't never been here before or I should've known better t'request a /table/ with the reservation. Keep that in the back pocket for next time, though."
The sound of Dusk's voice on the approach causes Micah to turn, warm smile traded in for lopsided grin. "This one, maybe, I fit with well enough. Always impossible t'compete with the wings, though. Hey, Dusk, how are you?" Fresh off of his hug with Maya, he seeks another one from Dusk. "We're just waitin' for 'em t'get a table t'gether. They'd put us at a booth but Maya had 'em move us."
Maya returns the hug in a firm squeeze, herself, rising up onto her toes to peck Micah lightly on the cheek as well. "Running around -- I can only imagine -- I heard about your building, I am so --" She catches herself with a brief hesitation, a small dip of her head. "It's just terrible. I feel like I'd only just seen the lot of you at Holi and then --" Her head shakes, dark eyes slightly wide as she looks over the two men. "You /look/ good, though. Is your family okay? And /you/ --" She lets Micah claim a Dusk-hug first before sneaking in for her own. Her cheeks have flushed darker with the compliment, her smile brightening. "Oh, hush, you two are /always/ --" There's a veeery slight catch of her breath that accompanies looking over Dusk -- and his wings -- once he's shed his coat. Her blush deepens, just a little.
Dusk doesn't need to wait what is this /waiting/ rubbish. He hugs them /both/ at once, an enormous wing curling out around each of them. "Hey hey. Oh, god, Holi /was/ just before that crap -- it was like this precursor of /awesome/ before everything went to shit." His head shakes, slightly, but his smile is still easy as he adds: "-- Oh, /thank/ you. Booths and I do not get along so well. I can /do/ them but man it's like uncomfortable and /cramps/ and -- wing-cramps are no fun."
Micah's cheeks pick up a few shades of pink with the tinykiss. "It's been...pretty rough. But Jax'n the boys are all doin' well, now, so we're just /grateful/ for that, really. Jax teaches at the twins' boardin' school an' they usually put their teachers up there, anyhow. So we're all stayin' there 'til our new place is finished." He chuckles at Maya's catch of breath upon observing Dusk's wings. "See? No beatin' those." Not that he isn't taking full advantage of wing-petting when one of them wraps around him. "Hey, when y'find a restaurant that won't try t'throw you out over 'em, may as well take advantage, be comfortable, an' let us appreciate 'em in the meantime, right?"
Maya snuggles in to the hug, cheek brushing up agains the soft inside of Dusk's wing. She only pulls back when the host returns to lead them to their table, a faint blush on her cheeks, still. "Oh -- oh I'm /glad/ you have somewhere to be at least. I can't even -- if there's anything I can do to help -- any of you. Even if it's just sending along some dessert. After a shake-up like that I think you all can maybe use all the comfort you can get -- thank you." She says this last to their host as they're shown to an /actual/ table; she drapes her cape over the back of one chair, setting her large purse down beside it. "Oh -- /oh/. Speaking of, um, comfort, I -- I need to return you some --" She has a very faint sheepishness to her expression, head bowing. "-- things of yours you might. Um. Want. Back."
"I don't know, I think Rachel /does/ have me beat, her wings are pretty much the best of wings. Just this /endless/ gorgeous expanse of black feathers that --" Dusk shivers, slightly, following along to their table. He drapes his trenchcoat on the back of his chair but then turns his own chair around backwards so that he can perch on it with his wings uninhibited behind him. "Flicker's out of the hospital today. Your friends helped -- he hasn't looked this good in a year. But I'm not sure I'd say anyone's doing /well/. All this shit's starting to add up, you know?" His arm drapes along the back of his chair, chin dropping to rest on it. "-- Or maybe been adding up for a while. But everyone's /alive/ so that's a pretty excellent start." His brows raise at Maya's sheepish addition, and he gives her a puzzled look. "Hm?"
"We'll be okay. It's kinda...extra helpful that they're set up there as far as kitchens an' meals an' all. S'a lifesaver in the meantime. An' thanks for the offer, hon. I'm sure we'll keep you in mind if there's anythin'." Micah claims a seat by hanging his jacket off the back of it, messenger bag beside, sitting in it a bit more conventionally without wings to consider. "Feathers is nice, but they ain't fuzzy like yours," he opines on the superiority of wing-types. "Y'got the better ones for cuddlin'." His expression can't seem to settle on relieved-sigh or pleased-smile at the news of Flicker. "Good, good. That friend of Corey's has been a /literal/ lifesaver. I'm glad they were able t'help. Did Hive an' Flicker an'...you, for that matter, decide where y'all are goin'? Lucien offered t'put Hive an' Flicker up, so don't let Hive's stubbornness put the pair of 'em in 'is /office/." He doesn't comment on the returning of objects, assuming Maya must have borrowed a T-shirt or the like after their...sleep-over.
"I'm a big fan of the -- your kind of wings," Maya agrees with Micah, "they work way better for snuggling into. -- Do any of you need a place to stay?" Her eyes open just a little bit wider. "My roommate and I -- It's not a /big/ place but we have a spare office that could be a guest room." She stoops to pick up her bag, her blush deepening fiercely as she opens it to pull out a pair of small carefully tissue-wrapped packets and hand them across to Micah. "I -- I should have -- probably returned those earlier but I thought maybe now -- if you've lost /everything/ you'll want things from home all the more. The third thing she pulls out of her bag is unwrapped and she hands straight to Dusk, a small carefully painted 3-D printed Companion Cube of Ian's that /once/ upon a time had lived on his desk.
"Yeah, she's been kind of amazing. Flicker -- oh /man/," Dusk's eyes suddenly widen, "Micah you won't even /recognize/ him, you didn't even /meet/ him till after that dragon did you? He's been mangled as long as you've /known/ him." He turns a wide smile down towards his menu, that soon turns into a scowl at the mention of Hive. "Yeeeah no he moved into his office when Flicker got released. I don't know if Lucien's --" He trails off as Maya takes things out of her bag, his words stilling into silence and his wings drooping at his back. "Wait -- what -- how did you -- why do you --" He takes the cube with a sudden hard swallow, fingers turning it over in his hand. "Oh man." There is, abruptly, a new glistening-wetness to his dark eyes.
"Flicker weren't /mangled/, oh/gosh/, poor guy had some scars." Micah's head shakes at Dusk's description. "Kate's pretty...amazin' 'bout even the old scars, though. Did almost /too/ good a job on Jax." His fingers move to trace idly along the edge of a menu on the table in front of him. "Hive /can't/ just stay in 'is office. 'Tween bein' sick an' spreadin' 'is /mind/ out an' now not livin' in a proper... He /can't/. Is Flicker just stayin' with 'im? I bet he is." An exasperated sigh puffs through his lips before he is distracted by the items at hand. "Oh...oh, right," he says with a nod as if he knows what's in the wrapped packets without looking at them. In point of fact, he takes them and tucks them carefully into his messenger bag without opening them. "Jax'll be...real glad t'have that back. Was scourin' the room for it when it went missin' t'begin with." His hand returns to fidgeting with the menu. "The things that went missin' 'fore the dreams happened," serves as simple explanation to Dusk. "I...actually needed t'ask you 'bout some dream-related stuff that's been happenin' recently, Maya. Not...like yours. But kinda. I mean, in that they're vivid an' shared between folks an' all. You ever heard of dreams that tell the future?"
"I just -- I wanted to be able to /keep/ sending people nice dreams, you all seemed like -- you could use them some nights," Maya explains bashfully, looking down at her menu. "But after the fire -- maybe things from before will be -- nice." Her cheeks are still flushed dark, and it is tentative when she looks back up at Micah. Her brows crease, and she gives her head a very small shake. "Shared dreams? That -- tell the future? I haven't -- heard of something like /that/, no. Do you know someone who can tell the future?"
"He was /pretty/ mangled, dude. Just scars up the fucking --" Dusk's fingers flutter towards his face, then drop back down. His eyes haven't actually /left/ the cube in his hand; he finally does look away, though, to wipe his eyes against his sleeve and then rub a fist over his heart in apology. "-- just. /All/ Ian's stuff I had just -- got burned away and I kinda. Don't have /anything/ of his anymore -- or I didn't." His fingers squeeze tighter against the cube. It takes a moment before he sets it gently down on the table beside his plate.
"Flicker's staying with him, yeah. They hadn't gotten /mattresses/ or anything even, though, last I checked." One of his wings shrugs. "Just. Crashing on the couches in the waiting room I guess. Should bring them some damn blankets." He looks over at Maya at the dream-talk, curious. "We don't -- know anyone who can. At least I don't think so. But the dreams were /vivid/ and /shared/ and -- well." He looks back down to his menu.
"Um...we could maybe trade you some /other/ things later if y'still wanted t'do that. I know...sometimes it's the best thing. T'feel like y'got somethin' that can make somebody feel better." Micah offers a smile to Maya's bashfulness. "Really. It's okay." His head shakes /firmly/ at the idea of bringing blankets to Hive's office. "They've /got/ places t'stay. It's ridiculous t'facilitate this stayin' at the office thing. We just gotta...talk t'Hive. 'Bout a lot." The head-shaking continues, though much more /mild/ in answer to Maya. "We don't...know. But there's been a good half dozen or so people /that we know of/ sharin' a narrative 'bout one year in the future, in dreams. An' parts of 'em been comin' true. We just... It'd be nice t'figure out who was doin' it. Or waht. There's been a few folks speculatin' that it's some kinda...like the dreams from before. But I knew those were /you/, so I keep tryin' t'shoo 'em off that thought. 'Cause these don't seem... I mean. No stuff goes missin' /or/ shows up after. An' they ain't all cheerful or nothin'."
"Sharing a narrative?" Maya looks puzzled at this -- even moreso at the mention of coming true. "I mean -- my dreams. Come true," she allows, slowly. "Except I don't -- predict the future. I just /make/ things --" Her lips press together, very thinly. Her eyes fix down on the menu, and she toys a little guiltily with its edge. "When have these dreams been happening? I -- I mean, I've never met anyone else who does what I do with dreams, what if I'm -- just doing something /accidentally/?" She frowns more deeply at this notion. And then volunteers cautiously: "-- Do they happen often? Because if I'm paying attention to someone's dreams, I can -- /I/ can travel. Into them? Through them? I -- it's how I get --" She blushes again, waving a hand towards the bag where Micah had tucked his packages. "But if /someone/ is making these dreams, I might be able to -- /find/ them."
"Yeah. Like the dreams are all telling the same story. And it's not a /nice/ one -- oh, shit." Dusk says this as a waiter arrives back at their table. "Wow, I apologize, I've barely even looked at the menu. Can I get a limeade, though? And, uh, a little more time." He sounds apologetic about this. He waits for others to deliver any drink orders, talking again only once the waiter has gone. "Accidentally?" His teeth press against his lower lip at this thought. "Does it just -- work? Without you trying? I mean, I've known a /lot/ of mutants who have all /kinds/ of strange power -- quirks. In sleep and out of it." His eyes scan the menu slowly. "... wait. You can /walk/ into people's -- dreams? Into their /houses/? I don't get it."
"We didn't know we was all havin' the same future dreams for awhile. 'Til some details started comin' out the same in /all/ of 'em," Micah explains. "But if you're doin' it by accident, you're doin' it /a lot/. That I know of? I've had three of the dreams. One of my sons has had three, another's had one. My husband's had one. Um...Lucien's had two. Another family friend with one. One of the twins' friends had one... Dusk...did you have one or two? It's gettin' around...an' that's just in the past /month/. Some of those overlap, though. The main actors in the dreams all seem t'be /actually/ havin' the dreams, oftentimes shared with other dreamers." His eyes go wide at Maya's suggestion. "Oh...ohwow, y'can /do/ that? I mean. What would y'need? T'be able t'monitor somebody? I'm sure we could get you volunteers. Can you do just one person at a time, or more than that?" Micah also quiets when the server arrives. "Hi...oh. Could I get a mango lassi, please? And an ice water. Thanks."
"Sweet lassi for me, thank you." Maya finishes looking over her menu and sets it down, elbow resting atop it and her fingertips pressing lightly to her lips for a moment of thought. "Yes. I can walk -- to people I'm connected to, to people /they're/ connected to. If there's some /other/ kind of mental influence going on here I -- might be able to." She shrugs her shoulder uncertainly, the pleats of her sari rustling. "If I'm /with/ someone it's easy. People I'm far away from, I take --" Her cheeks tint dark again and she unfurls her fingers towards the Companion Cube sitting beside Dusk's plate. "Things. That mean something to them. The emotional connection -- I need /something/ to anchor onto?" She sounds a little uncertain of her wording. "I can only follow one person at once. I -- can /peek/ at many dreams in succession, though. So I guess I could -- try keeping an eye on a number of people if they've been known to have these dreams a lot."
"I've had a couple," Dusk affirms. He drops his eyes to the cube also, wings twitching uncomfortably at his back. Slowly he reaches forward to nudge it back towards her. "You could -- hang on to this. If it helps. It's just -- if these dreams /are/ predicting the future they're predicting something -- really bad. And we need to figure out how to stop it." His head tilts, slightly, though, at Maya's explanation. "But wait. If you watch people's dreams like that when do /you/ sleep?"
Micah nods at Maya's explanation, reaching into his messenger bag--not for the items she'd just returned but for his keys. He unwinds a keychain from the bunch to hand over to Maya. It looks like a simple three-dimensional TARDIS keychain, but when hefted feels like it is hollow or has a compartment inside. "Jax'll want those other things back, but...y'can have this for me. S'far as I know, Shane an' I've had more of those dreams than anyone. I don't mind if y'look. We've got...friends lives as might be at stake, if what the dreams're sayin' is plannin' on comin' true. Friends an'...a pretty significant number of other people."
"Sleep?" Maya gives Dusk a small, crooked smile. "Rarely, if I've got people to be checking up on." She takes the keychain from Micah, turning it over in her hands. Her fingers close around it and for a moment her arms tense, eyes closing as she draws in a slow breath. "-- But if there's lives at stake I can do without a few nights of sleep." She nods almost to herself, glancing down at the TARDIS in her hand. "I'll give it back," she promises. "I don't know how long it'll take. Dreams aren't always exactly predictable."
Dusk exhales sharply. "Feel like there's some kind of sleep /crisis/ going on lately. But -- I guess there's not much help for it except to /be/ awake when everyone else is asleep." His eyes drop down to the cube, then lift back up to study the ceiling. "Some people's lives in those dreams seemed --" He trails off, shaking his head quickly. "Well. This'll be a start, at least. Maybe. -- Oh man." He finally folds his menu and sets it down, too. "I'm starving."
"Yeah, it seems like...ain't many people gettin' a whole lotta sleep lately. Ain't no point you havin' anythin' of Jax's no-how. Wouldn't be nothin' t'/watch/." Micah sighs at that, then simply nods at the promise to return the keychain. "Take as long as y'need. Just...thank you. This means an awful lot. We ain't had...really /any/ leads on the who-how-why behind any of this." He looks up to Maya with a small smile before drumming his fingers over his closed menu. "Well, I knew I was gettin' bhindi masala 'fore I got here. But now I also want cilantro an' tamarind chutney t'pour over...the other part's not as important. Samosas? Pakora? What do y'all think?"