ArchivedLogs:Stars and Monkey-Wrenches

Stars and Monkey-Wrenches
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Hive, Lucien	21 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Sunroom - Lower East Side
Bright and warm, this room is set up to enjoy a little bit of the outdoors even year-round. Tall glass panes make up most of its wall in between wood supports, providing a wide three-sided view of the garden and yard outside. As well as the inner doors leading back into the kitchens and dining room, an outer door leads out to the outdoor gardens, as well. Inside, the room is airy and green -- a plethora of potted herbs and plants hang from the ceiling, as well as ring the room in a series of narrow wooden raised-beds that provide growing space for a selection of herbs year-round. Outside of the herb beds that ring the room, this place is designed simply to come and relax; quiet and simple, with clean stone floors and neutral-toned wicker furniture adorned with comfortable cushioning. Some of the chairs ring stone-and-glass tables for eating or conversing; a few more solitary seats come in the form of rocking chairs or netted hammock-chairs hanging from the ceiling. It's /been/ a long night, as promised -- though far from over, the sun won't be up a good while yet. The Commons has spent the night being transformed -- it's /brighter/ than it was before, even from in here it can be seen out the windows, myriad brilliant lights shining on the trees and the houses and the fences to light the neighborhood up brightly. It's bright in /here/, too, a host of sunlamps all switched on warm and strong. The indoors has gotten maybe even more colourful than out, with the decorations and Tag's liberal touch evident all over. This hasn't stopped Jax from looking /more/ than a little droopy. Pale, sluggish, /wilting/; by now his skin is kind of cool to the touch and there's a definite shakiness to his carriage. But he's smiling, warm and bright as ever. His makeup is /actually/ makeup, glittery silver-blue eyeshadow, sharply winged rainbowy-glittered black eyeliner, a dusting of silver-shimmered lip gloss, black oilslick nailpolish. High silver boots over black skinny jeans, tight black long-sleeved base layer under a black tee dotted with silver and blue stars. He's nibbling on a cookie with one hand; his other, at the moment, is occupied holding up a length of pine roping to string it over the doorway. It may be ill-advised that he's standing on a table to do so. Micah /had/ been putting little rainbow-coloured foil pinwheels into all of the planters, but Jax climbing up on a table pulled his attention away from that task. He is...not on the table, needless to say, but stabilising it with one hip and both hands. "Y'sure you're alright up there?" His brow is only a /little/ furrowed, at least. He is dressed in a sapphire-blue sweater over a robin's egg tee and one of his less-worn pairs of jeans. The thick socks covering his feet are navy with Minions cavorting about on them. From the look of his hair, he actually combed it after the shower between finishing up cooking and the party getting into full swing. Hive isn't on the table either. He hasn't been particularly helpful in the decorating of Things, but he /has/ been a rather intent observer as the Commons is transformed into its holiday wonderland. Ferried from one room to another to another in his brightly lit chair, tucked under a nest of blankets. If anything he looks worse than Jax, gaunt-pale-slumped; by now it's hard to say half the time if he's particularly alert at all. Though at the question he does stir, squinting an eye open to peer at Jax. "... mmnhs'fine. S... weeble." "Weeble?" Jax's head tilts in some small confusion at this reply (as he wobbles a little more precariously on the table) before hooking the roping over the nail he was aiming for. He affixes a large and glittery star-dotted bow to it, next, before hopping down. Wobbling /worse/ and catching himself by curling an arm around his husband's neck. Then pressing a kiss to Micah's neck just for good measure. "Yes -- no. Totally need more cocoa." Perhaps these words are some sort of summoning spell. Matt and the children have been here, since earlier in the evening when the party began, but Lucien took a good deal longer to materialize. Materialize, though, he does, slipping quietly in to the sunroom with a thermos in hand, a brief draft of cold slipping in along with him before he shuts the door. He's in a trim black peacoat over his jeans, boots, hat, scarf, gloves. "Your home has become rather vibrant." “Y'callin' m'husband an ovoid-creature? I think he's distinctly un-weeble-shaped.” Micah only plays along with this for so long before /catching/ Jax takes precedence. Both of his arms leave off stabilising the table to wrap around Jax and assist him down, instead. Though he isn't taking nearly so much of the photokinetic's weight as all that, it gives the /appearance/ of a dance lift, bringing him back to the floor. “Think there's a little of the gingerbread cocoa in m'thermos, still. Luci!” The greeting nearly melds with his other sentence, barely a breath spared between. “Good t'see you, hon. Vibrant's the name of the game!” "Resilient," Hive corrects, still in a mumble. He shifts uncomfortably when the door opens, burrowing lower into his blankets. His eyes open a little more, though, focusing on the sparkly star-bow with a small smile touching his lips. "Thought we'd. Welcome the sun back. With -- /flair/." "I don't look anything /like/ a weevil." Jax is perplexed by this, half-twirling around, arm still curled around Micah's neck, to face the door. "Luci! Oh gosh how's stardom goin'? We been makin' everythin' so shiny-shiny, you should see. It's /all/ pretty. So many colours everywhere. /So/ much flair. Though I'm -- mostly jus' tryin' to stay upright. D'you want food we got /so/ much food you have no idea." "Stardom." Amusement twines through Lucien's tone. "I have quite a ways to go for that." He drifts further into the room, shucking his gloves to tuck them into a pocket. An absent touch drops fingers to the back of Hive's neck, tracing there light and brief -- with a quiet lightening of headache, nausea, a small shiver of soothing to dull the worst of the symptoms that tend to haunt the telepath lately. Then he's passing on, offering his thermos up to the others. "Cocoa. With chai spices. Still about half-full, if you care for it. I think I have some decorations to ogle. You certainly don't seem to be lacking for flair." And then he is moving on, through the other door to head into the rest of the Common House. “Not any kinda weevil, neither. No buggies an' no...alien monster-critters.” Micah maintains his hold on Jax, helping to keep him up. /Also/ helping the ongoing dance image with his husband twirling about. “S'gonna be so much light an' sparkle 'round this place, won't know it's not daytime. Also, we're keepin' Jax fulla sunlamps an' sugar t'make up for the not-sun.” He accepts the thermos (seeing as it is easier to locate than his own, /right there/ as it is) and presses it into Jax's hands. “Thanks, hon. See you about once you've had a chance t'ogle an' eat a bit.” "-- Oh." Hive's breath comes out in nearly a whimper. It /sounds/ pained, for all it really is quite the opposite; though startled and /pleased/ it just registers in his expression in a sudden sharp tension, a twisted-up scrunch of eyes. He sits up straighter, once Lucien has passed on, passing a hand across his face. "... oh." His tongue flicks out across his lips, eyes following the other man out of the room. "... some weevils are. Pretty shiny. You're... sortof. Weevil-like." "Ohgosh, you okay, honey-honey?" The look Jax flicks between Hive and Lucien's departing back is just a little concerned. He takes the thermos, though his brows are a little furrowed as he uncaps it. "Don't think we should be lettin' me around all these plants so much if I'm all weevil -- wait, alien what now?" His nose crinkles up. "I /definitely/ ain't no alien monstery thing. Fair sure I was born right on this planet." “S'a lotta things as're shiny without makin' Jax 'xactly like 'em,” Micah points out with a giggle. “Otherwise Jax is...spoon-like. Toaster-like. Mirror-like. Wrench-like....” The pained-sound draws his attention from this listing, at least, concerned look returned to his face. “What happened, Hive? You okay?” His head shakes at Jax's monster concerns. “S'just a race of space-critter on Doctor Who called Weevils. They're kinda...horrible. Not shiny at all.” "Mirror is sometimes Jax-like. And he's sortof. Monkey-wrench... y." Hive dismisses all the concerns with a shake of his head, hands moving to rearrange his blankets. "No. Fine. Good. Startled. He -- helped. Was hurting bad. Doesn't now. Wasn't expecting --" He forces a small smile onto his face, tense and brief. "That cocoa sounds pretty good." "Oh. Oh!" Jax bounces, slightly, when it sinks in what Hive is referring to. "Oh, good. /Good/. Maybe enjoy your party a bit more now -- s'nice of him. An' I'll take bein' a monkey-wrench an' /gladly/." He sips at the cocoa, humming happily as he rolls a swallow over his tongue, then finally pulls, slow, away from his lean against Micah to bring the thermos to Hive to offer some to the telepath. "But I think we've /alla/ us kinda been more'n a little bit wrenchy." "Oh good! Luci's kinda the best pain reliever out there. That was kind of 'im." Micah sounds truly pleasantly surprised at this, not just murmuring platitudes. "Will be nice since it /is/ your party. Anythin' else y'need t'go with that cocoa?" His hold on Jax lingers, fingers still brushing against the small of the other man's back as he pulls away. "Think I'm startin' t'lose hold of this analogy. Or it's gettin' stretched thin. One a'those." "Can't expect me to keep track of analogies I have the brain tumor." Hive makes a fumbling sort of grabbyhands for the cocoa, more show than function since he lets Jax keep hold of it while he drinks. "More stars," is /his/ request for what to go with the cocoa. "I think Jax is saying we're troublemakers. S'my favorite kind of people. I don't remember where the decorations fit in though." "Wasn't decorations," Jax reminds brightly, "it was weevils --" His nose crinkles up. "Yeah, I think we ran that one into the ground. We /do/ got /so/ many more stars for you, though --" But he's a little bit teeter-y again, and sinks down to sit on the edge of a wicker chair beside Hive's wheelchair. "... maybe in a bit." He's stifling a yawn. "Little-bit. Soon. Oh, gosh, the sun can't get here too soon. How glad am I it's break time, Micah, if I had a class t'teach t'morrow I'd cry." He doesn't look near crying right now, though. Warm-smiling as he rests his head against the arm of Hive's chair. "Fair enough. I can't keep track even /without/ a brain tumour." Micah grabs a plate of cookies from its resting place on a table, nabbing a slice of gingerbread for himself before holding it out in front of Jax and Hive. "S'more stars here, too. Was kinda a theme all 'round." He nods vigorously at the mention of classes. "Cuttin' out the commute an' the mornin' class t'morrow'll be nice, for /sure/. An' I ain't even waitin' on limited solar power." He sinks into the chair Jax is leaning on, sitting up a little suddenly as he discovers /that/ was where he left his own thermos. Not comfy for sitting on. "Oh, hey. Convenient. Gingerbread cocoa. Gingerbread...gingerbread." Which dissolves into munching and drinking cocoa.