ArchivedLogs:Sunday Mass

Sunday Mass
Dramatis Personae Iolaus, Ion, Jackson	2013-09-22 (Part of the Battle for Harlem TP.)
Location <NYC> St. Martin's Church - Harlem
This church is not large, but it has a quiet majesty to it all the same, in the way of many old churches. A tall stone building tucked into the center of Harlem, it is one of the earliest Catholic churches in the city, and it looks it. Inside, the wooden pews stretch off towards the alter, the crucifix an immense and solemn wooden carving that presides over it all. Most of the windows are stained class, rich and vibrantly colourful depictions of various saints and Biblical scenes. Small recesses along the wall hold the Stations of the Cross depicted in intricate stone carvings, and the prayer alcove holds real flickering votive candles unlike many modern churches who have switched over to electric. The vaulted ceiling has detailed painting done between its arches, and the distinctive scent of frankincense often lingers faintly in the air. Below, the basement of the church has been heavily modernized; there is a pair of meeting rooms for classes, a pair of bathrooms with showers, a door leading out to the tiny adjoining rectory building where the pastor lives. In tribute to the church's namesake, ministries for the poor are a large part of the church community; one room holds a wealth of donated clothing that is free for any to take. With the large dining room and industrial kitchen that serve hot dinners six days a week and distribute donated bags of groceries every Monday, there are frequent visitors through here who are often in need of the helping hand. Church Mass at the Harlem church is a busy affair, these days, with all of the mutant guests staying at the church. Still, the regular parishoners - and many extra - fill the pews for Sunday Mass. It is an eclectic collection, these days - regular parishoners congregating mostly together in most of the pews, with many of the colored, tentacled, winged, or otherwise obviously mutants standing together and scattered through the edges of the block of parishoners and guests. Near the front of the Church, two Mendel Clinic guards stand nearby Iolaus. Jackson and Daniel, coming on shift and going off shift, respectively, timed so as to let Jackson take part in services and only take over as the Mass fades to ending. Daniel gives Jax and Iolaus a curt nod and a tight smile before he vanishes with a soft popping noise of air collapsing onto itself. Iolaus is dressed in a bright, sky-blue dress shirt and a pair of grey slacks, and a worn copy of a prayer book in his hands - Greek on one side, Latin on the other. "Lovely service. Have you been coming here often, Jax?" Iolaus asks, curiously, turning to look at the remaining guard with a warm smile. Jackson is dressed for church, too, though in his case this is still rather more flamboyant than most; his velvety red jacket is cut asymmetrically, layered over a black dress shirt with a faint iridescent sheen to it. His slacks are crisp, his shoes polished; his fuzzy-short dark hair is a soft red shade to match his jacket. He lingers for a moment once Mass has ended, stopping to talk with the priest in a quiet voice; it's only after this that he meets Iolaus. His smile is warm though there's a somewhat tired cast to his expression; it doesn't bleed through into his cheerful greeting. "Hihi, sir! Oh -- gosh, only for a coupla weeks. Still go to my regular parish for weekday service. It's just -- s'funny, y'know, it took me so long first to find a church that was /really/ acceptin' an' not just uncomfortably-toleratin' in the first place, but with everything going on here --" He blushes, deep, admitting with a tinge of self-consciousness: "For once bein' kinda a really, um, /prominent/ mutant activist sorta -- was /welcomed/. Strange t'walk in a place an' have everyone /happy/ t'recognize me 'stead'a itchin' to shoot. Thanks for bein' willing to accommodate --" He gestures around the church with one glittery-nailed hand. Ion cuts a fairly unobtrusive figure today, blending in with the rest of the churchgoers. He hasn't quite managed 'suit', instead in a pale green button-down and a pair of khakis that, though both old and worn are at least clean and neatly ironed. He comes up behind Jax, clapping the photokinetic on both shoulders and jostling him briefly. "Heyyyy. Sol. What is /up/ -- doctor, good morning," Iolaus gets a bright grin, a nod of his head as well. "I did not know you were one of us. How are /you/ -- welcomed, of course you are. /Both/ welcomed, two of the brightest warriors us freaks /have/." "Of course, Jax. It's been far too long since I've been going to Mass, regularly, anyway." Iolaus shrugs his shoulders, non-committal, smile flashing warmly at Jax. "And it is nice to go somewhere where, when I get recognized, it's not an immediate security threat." A brief pause, and Iolaus turns his head to look over Ion. His eyes flick up and down curiously at the other man, and he turns his head towards Jax. One smooth eyebrow raises on his face, a brief look of question pointing its way towards Jax as Iolaus extends a smile and a hand towards Ion. "Well, I'm not sure that I'm nearly as bright as our friend, here," The doctor says, grinning. "But I'm glad to meet another friend." Jackson blushes deeply at Ion's praise, leaning back into the jostling and reaching up to squeeze at one of the hands Ion has on his shoulder. "Oh, oh gosh, I don't --" His cheeks are furiously red, his head ducking top tip his gaze down to the ground. "You make us sound -- ohgosh." His hand scrubs at his cheek as he straightens away from Ion's grip. "It /is/ nice ain't it? How're you doin', man?" His hand drops away from Ion's after another squeeze. "Doctor Saavedro, you've met Ion." "/Lapsed/ one of us, then," Ion says, cheerfully and without any sense of judgement in the words. He leans forward to take the offered hand, grip firm, hand rough and calloused. "Yeah, s'good to have you around, Doc. We met back, ah --" His hand lifts, brushing at his dark hair to push it back at one side; hidden beneath the feathery locks there is a line of scarring running down along the side of his head. "I heard you and the brain doctor came by the other day to help. Is good of you both." His grin only widens, after this. "-- Well, not so many people as bright as this one, eh? But the work you do, that is good work." "Ah, yes. I thought you looked familiar." Iolaus' smile flashes brighter, even as his eyes give a slightly apologetic look. "I'm afraid, at that time, I was much more involved in remembering people's injuries than their faces. Too many soup bowls for just a few chefs, so to speak." A pause, and he nods. "No, not many are. And - yes, good eye - Doctor Toure and I came here with Jax's partner not long ago. There aren't as many patients, and not with as severe injuries, but still. Healing is healing, and those in need, need regardless." He bows his head slightly and smiles. "I will confess, as well, sometimes it's nice, these days, for me to remember I am actually still a doctor, not just a business person." he jokes, flashing a line of white teeth. "Y'all did amazin' with the resources y'had." Jackson's blush is slowly fading as the praise shifts away from him. "Think you'll find time to be a doctor again proper once the clinic is open? Ain't long now an' then I'd guess how many patience you have is gonna make here or Chinatown or last spring pale in comparison." "Partner's a great man, too. Fucking angel you're dating, man." Ion is cheerfully lavish with his praise. He gestures the others away from the aisle, moving towards the back of the church instead. "So much need. That won't end. Though, ah." He slings an arm around Iolaus's shoulders, leaning in quietly to tell Iolaus, "Think, though, you might want to avoid doing your doctoring up around here for a bit. Save it for your clinic, you will help many people there." "We did our best. Hopefully, it was enough." Iolaus shrugs his shoulders and nods. "Yeah, I will certainly try. Once it's off the ground, I may move back to being a doctor full-time, or I might keep doing both roles and just see a handful of patients." Iolaus shrugs his shoulders, a wry look spreading across his face. "Honestly, the fact that it's opening at all still seems like a pipe-dream. I'm not sure it will sink in until after it's been open for months." The doctor smiles, though he does give Ion a second look a the other man slings an arm around him. "Why is that?" he asks, matching Ion's low volume. "Kinda does seem surreal, don't it? I think it ain't quite sunk in for Hive yet that s'really happened." Jackson shakes his head slightly. "It's wicked amazing, what y'all've pulled off in so so short a while." His blush returns at the mention of Micah, though this time in combination with a warm smile. "Oh, oh yeah, Micah's incredible. S'the best thing that's ever --" His blush deepens. "Kinda an angel," just comes in happy agreement. His smile fades into a small crease of brow at Ion's caution, teeth clicking down against a lip ring. "Which takes more schooling, being a doctor or running a business? I think it must be hard, no? To find doctors who will work --" Ion gestures around the church. "With us." Jax's happy smile prompts a bright one of Ion's own. "Look, see? So bright. It's good -- it's great. World needs more of that. Happy." His arm tightens slightly around Iolaus's shoulders, voice dropping a little quieter. "Had some word. Don't know anything exact, yet, but. Word is the police are getting restless, yeah? If they come raid this place -- be a danger for everyone around here. Cannot help the survivors if you are here already, dead yourself." "Being a doctor. Being a businessperson," Iolaus says, eyes twinkling. "Just takes a certain level of insanity. No schooling required." The doctor shrugs his shoulders, glancing at the mutant holding him and then at the church around. He lets out a long sigh, and his shoulders curl inwards slightly. "Shit." He mutters, and then glances towards the altar with an apologetic look. "Alright. I'm afraid you'll have to start coming to Mass on your own, again, Jax." Iolaus says, turning to glance at the guard on his other side. Jax's blush deepens, though he nods at Ion's assessment. "Kinda -- yeah. Gets hard to remember sometimes, you know? Get so caught up in alla --" His gaze sweeps the church. "Alla this and. Ain't always time for happy. S'good when it finds you." His smile fades at the talk of the church, and his arms tighten against his chest. "Guess I won't do Sunday morning shifts for a while." "This mean you are -- very educated crazyperson?" Ion's teeth flash bright to Iolaus. "Many other churches in the city, sunshine." His arm drops from around Iolaus's shoulder; he claps Jax briefly on the shoulder instead. "You stay alive, too. You have so much work still to do." He claps Iolaus on the back, holds out a curled fist to Jackson. "And so much delicious food still to cook. Be well, man." "Of course. These days, though, most people just concentrate on the latter, not the former." Iolaus says, flashing a bright smile at Ion. "Not altogether sure if they're no wrong, either." The doctor chuckles and turns to Jax, glancing back and forth between the two men. "Keep me in the loop. I'd like to be able to help, even if it's from a safe distance." The doctor pauses for a moment, lips thinning to a line. "Probably better if you keep Jane in the loop, actually. She can coordinate. This kind of planning, she's frighteningly good at." Jax's lips press together at the mention of Jane coordinating, but he says nothing. He leans in to tap knuckles against Ion's with a quick smile. "You swing by the Lofts, I will ply you with delicious food /any/ time and not just weekly deliveries. You take care too, yeah? If things get ugly --" He frowns, stepping forward after the fistbump to squeeze Ion in a tight hug. "Just be careful." Ion returns the hug, a /tight/ squeeze as well. "I am the picture of careful, man. S'kind of an /impressionist/ picture sometimes, maybe. Careful, Picasso style." He gives another smile, quick, broad, and then turns to head down the stairs to the basement.