ArchivedLogs:Stardust

Stardust
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Hive, Isra
In Absentia	2014-10-15 Peaceful moments.
Location <XS> Lake
Bright, bright, bright; the lake glitters wide and expansive here, stretching off into the distance. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, it catches them all. Lapping at the rocky shore, its deep waters are frigid in winter and cool even in summer. A stone pier stretches out a ways into the water, wide and smooth, though often icy in winter. The water teems with life nevertheless, home to myriad species of fish that provide for ample fishing or just lazy watching on a slow summer day, for those who want to take a boat from the boathouse out to the center of the lake, or perhaps lounge on the pier and try their luck. By now it's cold, ish, dark and crisp in a proper /fall/ fashion. Earlier there was warmth -- games, and hot cider, and hot /food/. That was earlier, though. Flicker /was/ back here to drop off some XS teens post-Game-Night and pre-curfew but now he's just here. Enjoying the quiet, maybe, the lap of water against the stones and the rustle of leaves and rustle of wings as some nighttime bird swoops in to its prey. In dress he's casual: carpenter jeans and heavy black boots and a soft grey lightweight pullover beneath his darker X-Jacket. There's a thermos beside him, filled with more cider still quite hot. He's not drinking it, right now, just sitting with one knee crooked up and the other leg outstretched, hand braced behind him to keep himself propped up against his one good arm as his eyes turn outward across the water. From Hive there's also quiet. He's just along for the ride, really; maybe glad to get out of the city, maybe glad to be where it really /should/ be quiet rather than in the crush of people he cannot hear. Casual, too, heavy jeans, heavy workboots, fleecey-warm Theta Tau cap pulled low over his ears, orange-and-white track jacket with the Aperture Science logo on it. He's not looking at the lake; head resting against Flicker's thigh, his face is pointed towards the sky but his eyes closed, hands folded against his chest. From a distance, Isra might have been mistaken for a gargoyle statue on the roof of the school until she, at length, launches herself into flight. She circles out over the lake, veering off once or twice into the woods, before returning to land on the beach. Her skin this week is a wildly variegated mix of dusky colors from orange to purple, with a purple-gold metallic sheen on her talons, horns, and wings. She has changed out of her game night clothes, and now wears a sort of gathered gown inspired by an ancient Greek himation, white linen edged in gold and black. Wings mantled as in preparation take flight again, tail swishing low and fast, she stalks over to the two men sitting by the shore. Wordless, she lowers herself to the ground beside Flicker--demure, somehow, ungainly digitgrade legs folded beneath her--and stretches. From restlessness she goes directly back to preternatural stillness, like a statute once more save for the occasional flick of one pointed ear at the small noises of commonplace woodland dramas. Flicker shifts, pushing himself up to sit a little bit more upright. His eyes turn towards Isra, tracking the white cloth through the moonlight. Then looking back out across the water. His arm moves, too, lifting fom the stone and brushing fingertips against one colorful talon. When his arm drops back it's not to the stone but to Hive's forehead, tracing against skin with a touch cold and damp and a little gritty from pressing against the stone pier. "Clouds went away." Though there's still intermittent drip-drip-dripping from the lingering rainfall slipping down off the trees. He glances up to the moon, then down to Hive's closed eyes. "They'll come back," Hive replies, grumbling without opening his eyes. "Always fucking do." He does curl in a little closer to Flicker, face turning just slightly towards Isra at the feel of her landing. His brows furrow. "Sooner than later, for us. This week's going to be goddamn stormy." Isra lifts her head, her eyes catching the cold light of the waning moon and reflecting it in unearthly green. A barely audible growl rumbles low in her chest, more like a wounded animal than an aggressive one. The sound does not abate when she speaks, her higher voice clear and even as is her wont. "Perhaps, but until then, we may as--" A woody crack resounds from somewhere in the shadow of the trees. Isra rolls forward onto the balls of her feet, wings flaring out in readiness and the growl surging briefly louder before she recognizes the sound as a snapping twig. She settles back down, or at least makes a visible effort, though the edginess never quite leaves her. "Stars are born in storms of fire and dust," she mutters, stretching one massive wing around both men and folding the other against her back. "Or so says my thesis." "So says our life." Flicker's eyes have darted over toward the sound of the crack as well, but he doesn't move. Just watches Isra tense and then settle, before /he/ settles back into the bolstering support of her wing. His fingers continue to run against Hive's forehead, and he tips his head up towards the sky. "Do the stars appreciate it, though?" "The fire?" Hive furrows his brows together. His eyes open sharply, briefly alarmed at Isra's louder growl until the other two settle back down. He keeps his eyes open, squinted up towards the sky. "Who ever does. Don't think anyone being born has a good idea of what they're going to be. Just. All this fucking uncertain --" He hisses out a breath through his teeth, fingers clenching down into his jacket. "What's your thesis about?" "I have not learned to read a star's heart in its spectral lines." Isra's lips draw back just far enough to reveal the tips of her fangs. It is not quite a smile. "I'm not certain it would have helped my research much if I could. No one ever consents to being born, and we exhaust entire fields of study figuring out what we're doing here." The talon tipping the longest phalanx of her wing curls in to give Hive's arm a brief squeeze. "My thesis is about triggered gravitational collapse in star formation as an explanation for lacunae in stellar nurseries--" She goes still again at a small splash on the surface of the lake. "--essentially, about stars being born in storms of fire and dust. Only I say it with a lot more math." Flicker shakes his head at Hive's question. "No, the light. All that chaos, do they even get any benefit?" His hand slides down from Hive's forehead to shoulder, fingers kneading there. Absent. Thoughtless. "It sounds more metal the way you just said it." His teeth bite down at the inside of his cheek. "From here, it looks peaceful, though." "That's only because you don't speak Star. You hear what's on the /inside/ of a thing, nothing's ever fucking peaceful. It's just so much pain and chaos and --" The corner of his mouth twitches up as he shifts, slightly, to press into the touches to his arm. "Math. Math /is/ pretty fucking metal, though, dude. It's not for the faint of heart." Isra's wings relax, one draping lightly over Flicker and Hive, the other sliding down to rest across her chest. "I cannot speak to pain, but stars are in many ways storms all their own, all fire and chaos. But that's also what makes a star...a star." She tucks her long, taloned feet under the hem of her gown. "I'd feel a lot more metal if math could solve any of our problems." The corner of her mouth quirks up. "Or get my paper published, for that matter." "Storms and fire and chaos." Flicker's echo is quiet. Eyes stay fixed up on the sky overhead. "Throw some blood in and that sounds -- familiar." His fingers tighten against Hive's shoulder, head giving a small shake. "There /are/ peaceful moments. You just," his head turns, cheek pressing to Isra's wing, "need to find them." "Hey, I solve so many problems with math. None of us would have houses if not for math. Maybe," Hive advises Isra, "you just need to start --" He stops, looking up at the sky to consider this. "Building houses out of stars. I hear having the heart of a star can help with a lot of problems, too." Slowly he shifts his hand, fingers resting lightly over Flicker's, then closing in tighter. "Peaceful moment, check--until the next time a shadow moves, at any rate." Isra leans her head on Flicker's shoulder, mindful of the long backswept horns sprouting from her temples. "Houses made of stars, also check. Every house you have built, my friend, and indeed every house in the known universe, is made of stardust." The wing wrapped around her companions squeezes lightly. "As are we."