ArchivedLogs:Trees And Terror

Trees And Terror
Dramatis Personae Micah, Isra, Jax
In Absentia	4 February 2015 '
Location <NYC> {Lighthaus} - Harbor Commons - Lower East Side
Bright and sunny-light, this house lives up to its name. With a plethora of enormous windows flooding the place with light and an open layout, the ground floor feels more spacious than it is. The small entryway has a closet space for shoes and coats, and doors at either side leading to the neighboring apartments. Past this it opens straight into the living room, a wide expanse of space bordered on one side by a curved set of stairs leading up (with colourful glass tiling on the risers between each stair) and next to these, the half-wall into the kitchen. Cool pale tile underfoot and many dark cabinets with a small walk-in pantry, plentiful custom granite countertops, black and speckled faintly with rainbowy flecks, lots of hanging space overhead for cookware, a large double-oven. There's a strip of rather detailed mosaic-work in the kitchen backsplash, colourful glass tiling depicting strange fantastical herbs and small faeries and firelizards darting among them. In back of the kitchen, a door opens up to a small sunroom, wide and two-stories high with a balcony overlook from the second floor; two of the windows here have cushioned windowseats, and there's a wealth of herbs growing in hanging pots and small window-boxes. The back wall of the living room is nearly entirely dominated by windows, huge and allowing a view of the river beyond with bench windowseats lining the sills. There are plentiful paintings on the wall, surreal and fantasy-inspired, mostly in shades of blacks greys with bright bursts of colour that are mirrored in the decor -- monochrome upholstery on the couch and armchair but colourful throw-pillows, black and white huge corduroy beanbags (and one large red doggie-bed,) soft throw rugs also in mostly black and white with splashes of rainbow woven in. The hand-built furniture -- tall chairs by the kitchen/living room counter, dining table and chairs in the kitchen, low coffeetable in the living room -- has been hand-painted as well, black with bursts of colourful abstract designs. Along the living room's other wall, doors branch off to a full bathroom -- in white and deep blue with one wall of the shower done in colourful intricate mosaic too, an underwater scene full of strange mythical water-creatures; tiny water-sprites have been interspersed at random points in the rest of the wall tiles, as well. There's a small studio space beside the bathroom, large windows as well and a gratuitous amount of shelving and cabinets along the walls; this room has very /little/ colour in it, just white walls and black furnishing. It has been above freezing in the City today! As such, the evening isn't abysmally cold. Micah is braving the world without his hoodie or wristwarmers: just a Doctor Hooves Nouveau tee over a lighter blue henley, jeans, and soot sprite slippers. Though long-dried from his after-work shower, his hair still bears a telltale spikiness. The redhead is bustling about the kitchen, not /cooking/ this time, but cleaning up after dinner and dessert with Jax and Spence. There is a broccoli and mushroom quinoa casserole still cooling on the stovetop before finding its leftover way into the refrigerator and a partial fruity pie still on a counter as the pile of dishes in the sink slowly shrinks down. He lapses from singing into humming, back and forth, Rush's "The Trees". The door from Geekhaus opened to admit Isra, her skin this week cerulean blue tigerstriped with indigo. Her wings, relaxed and trailing behind her like vast living sails, have cobalt blue membranes dotted with iridescent silver stars. She wears a backless white linen dress with a broad, flouncy hem and a royal purple shawl shot through with threads of gold. "Good evening, Micah. I have come to raid your leftovers." She carries her laptop in the crook of one elbow and a black NASA mug in her other hand. "How go the festivities?" Micah's singing fades into a smile as Isra enters. "Oh, please do. Can't have folks livin' on coffee an' takeout." He gestures to the counter. "Pie's ready soon as you are. Casserole's still warm-ish? If y'want it hot I can get a bit reheatin', though." The question earns a /chuckle/. "Well. Pretty much over. We planted a tree. Ate some fruit. Also some tiny-trees." Another gesture to the broccoli casserole here. "I ain't gonna promise Spence won't keep 'portin' t'Jim an' givin' 'im hugs at random intervals 'til bedtime, though." "If you could?" Isra mantles her wings in an offer of a hug, not entering the kitchen proper lest she gets in Micah's way. "I should not mind warm casserole, however, if you have your hands full. Certainly, I will accept some pie, however. Dessert before supper: one of the perks of adulthood." She sniffs appreciatively and sets her computer down on a counter. "I hope all the snowmelt made the ground more pliable for your purposes." "Not a problem. Oven ain't even all the way cool yet." Micah waves Isra into the kitchen for better delivery of hug. Then he scoops a /large/ portion of casserole from the main dish into a smaller crockery to warm up a bit in the oven. A large slice of pie fills a dessert plate along with a fork, delivered to Isra's hands. "Y'want some almond milk? Or tea? Not sure what y'brought with you." A nod of appreciation meets the mention of snowmelt. "Warmer t'day. Made /ev'rythin'/ better. Less icy." There is the sound of socked footsteps on the stairs as Jax trots down from up above. He's blandly dressed, for him, black pants and a plain undershirt with his rainbow colour-blocked sweatshirt on over top. No makeup, though at the sight of Isra in the kitchen some blossoms into place; sparkling black winged eyeliner, a dusting of purple-blue over his eye, a hint of shimmer on his lips. "Think Spence is at least makin' an attempt at sittin' still for homework, now. At the moment anyhow." He slides over to the counter, leaning up against it with a smile to Isra. "The casserole was so good. -- oh gosh is tea on offer? /I/ want tea." Isra wraps both wings around Micah. "Much obliged." Her tail swishes quick when the pie finds its way into her hands. "I brought the remainder of my coffee, but I will happily accept some tea." One of her long, pointed ears swivel toward the stairs before Jax comes into view. "Good evening." She extends a wing out to Jax, the membrane, unfurled, more than a little resembling a patch of the night sky made flesh. "What tea do you suppose would go well with pie? My usual tastes run to strong, strong black tea, but I cannot call myself an expert on the matter." The hug and the return of the Husband stretch Micah's mouth into a pleased-broad grin. "Hm. We gonna keep on with the tree theme for tea? Got a peach oolong. The hazelnut's black. Think's a ceylon, though. S'got a roasty taste kinda like coffee. Could go off-topic for the sake of tea y'like better, though. The stronger black teas we got tend t'be unflavoured." The fingertips of one hand stroke at the small of Jax's back as Micah goes about filling the tea kettle with water. Jax slips an arm around Isra's waist, squeezing briefly as her wing curls around him. "S'a green pomegranate. An' pomegranate in the pie. Could do." He closes his eyes, lips curling up into a warm smile at the further affection. "S'gonna be Jim's birthday next week an' Matt's both. Speakin' of. Huggin'. Trees." "Pomegranate green tea sounds delightful." Isra starts in on her pie delicately, though her long fingers dwarf both plate and fork. "Also, this pie tastes amazing. Pomegranate is one of my favorite fruits, largely because of a book I read as a child." Her indigo lips curl into a faint smile, exposing only the tips of fangs. "I suppose there are cakes in the offing, then? Any parties planned?" "The green it is. I'll hafta keep a closer eye on the water..." This last is half a mutter as Micah gets the kettle heating and sets up tea and mugs. "We doin' a thing? Does Jim like things? He seems like one that might...get flustered over a fuss. Maybe if we combine the two?" The mention of cake earns a /very/ affirmative nod. "Gotta have somethin' chocolatey for Matt. Boy's got such a sweet tooth." "We made a proper fuss last year an' he didn't mind none. /Funeral/ an' everything. -- Which book?" Jax sneaks out a hand, pinching one pomegranate aril from Isra's slice of pie. "Ain't done much of no actual /plannin'/ yet though. Hive an' Flicker, I think they'd know best what he'd like in /party/ an' --" Shrug. "Hive ain't talkin'. Flicker's over-stressed. Should plan on somethin', though." "/The Madman/, by Kahlil Gibran." Isra replies, ears pricking forward. "'Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed saying, "Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be strong and beautiful through all the seasons."' Recitation done, she takes another bite of the pie. Her hairless brows wrinkle ever so slightly in thought. "You may ask Jim, I'm sure, as to what variety of celebration he would best enjoy. Hive's present condition does not go easily on him, either. If you need any help planning the party, do ask. I've been staying close to the nest and do not foresee that changing within the next week." "Hm. S'pose we /could/ just come out an' ask," Micah admits with a shrug. The water is ready for steeping quickly enough, considering, and that much closer to tea. "Matt'll prob'ly love whatever, s'long as it's full of friends an' food." Fussing with the tea a bit, Micah listens quietly to the recitation. "Pretty. I mostly like it 'cause it's sweet an' the way the bits pop between your teeth is nice, though." "-- Oh." This recitation makes Jax's eyes light, warmer. The peacock-shades of his hair shift to deeper leafy greens, his makeup changing tones to complement it. He /has/ been reaching out to steal another aril from the pie but he lowers his hand without putting it into his mouth. Just holds the (sticky) seed on his palm, looking down at it with a small frown. In his palm it starts to sprout, blossoming, a tiny shoot and then a sapling, roots growing (... unfortunately somewhat /realistically/ in the way they tear and dig into his flesh) down into his skin as it grows. /Frown/. Deeper. He lifts his hand quickly, licking the seed off his hand. The growing tree vanishes with it. "Help'd be good. Prob'ly. Been busy. Crazy short-staffed at the Clinic an' kinda had a new student drop on us with zero notice an' --" His head shakes. "Jus' busy." Isra watches the Gibran-inspired illusion placidly while she continues her assault on her dessert--clearly making an effort to take small bites. "I think I spent at least one week reading and re-reading that book when..." Her wings rustle and settle against her back. "...when my first puberty rendered me bedridden." She cocks her head at Jax, raising one brow. "Sudden new student? I hadn't heard." Micah winces at the illusion, finishing up the tea brewing and distribution rather than watching it until it goes away. “S'Matt an' Jim. Prob'ly all kindsa folks'll be willin' t'lend a hand.” Once the remaining casserole is heated, he fetches it out of the oven with a pair of mitts and places it on the stovetop to let the container cool to a more reasonable temperature. “Soon as that's not lava no more, s'all yours,” he points out to Isra...probably unnecessarily. “Surprise new students...prob'ly more common there'n most schools. Ev'rythin' okay?” "S'beautiful. Think I might look that book up." Jax's head tips to the side, bonking lightly against Isra's wing. "Yeah, s'fine -- I mean, Shane got kinda growly at 'em, kid just tried to sneak in without no warnin' an' -- I mean, /literal/ surprise student, he done hit his panic button. Wasn't no panic in the end past a snowball fight an' some swapped blustering, though." His brows furrow in deeply. "Kid says he's some kinda -- deserter. On the run from the Brotherhood. Come t'us t'stay safe." His teeth are wiggling at a lip ring with this, head shaking. "'spose it wouldn't be the first time. In /either/ direction, really. Some of our kids..." He trails off, here, frowning back down at his hand. "The author was a visionary--something you have in common." Isra sets down the plate and accepts tea from Micah with graceful dip of her horned head. "You might like /The Prophet/, also, if you have not read it already. His most popular work." Her fingers cover the outside of the mug almost entirely when she wraps her hands around it; the heat of the tea, at least, does not seem to bother her. "And thank you, once again. Quite surprising, indeed. It pleases me that his arrival did not come to blows, whatever his provenance." Isra's expression has gone somehow /notably/ more neutral than usual, ears and tail alike gone still. "On the run, you say? Do you suppose he is in much danger?" Bright green unblinking eyes study Jax. "You seem rather concerned." "Imagine Shane had more /reason/ t'be growly'n usual, if they was sneakin' 'round the campus where they didn't b'long." Micah's shoulders tense at the Brotherhood mention. "How young's this kid? On the run from a terrorist organisation already." He nods acceptance of Isra's thanks, mouth busy with teeth chewing at his bottom lip. "S'concernin'. They likely t'cause trouble at the school, y'think? I mean. They shouldn't want to, right? Ain't the kinda place that should be a target." "Don't imagine they'd be causin' no trouble /at/ the school," Jax says with a shake of his head, "be fair stupid to come t'those grounds lookin' for a fight. But he can't jus' live in the mansion forever, what danger he's in if he /leaves/ --" He shrugs a shoulder, teeth pressing down into his lip. "Jus' don't know. Ain't like they got no qualms on killin' folk. Don't know what beef he had with them made him turn his coat." His gaze lifts to the others, weight shifting in an uncomfortable fidget. "Am concerned. I guess. Not cuz -- I mean, /safe/, we can keep someone safe enough at school. But this kid, he ain't even old as the pups an' already been out livin' with folks willin' t'murder innocent folk in this fight -- Guess I jus' look at him an' I start to see..." His eye shifts, gaze ticking over towards the door to Beachhaus. "Could be real easy, our kids endin' up there, y'know? S'a lot t'be angry about in the world. An' I can't even begin t'keep 'em safe from any of it. Don't think it'd even /take/ hardly a nudge, tippin' B into a place like that." "He may cause trouble whether he likes to or not." Isra sips at her tea, eyes sliding shut for a moment to savor the brew. When they open again, they look no less intense, though she had taken up blinking again. "Children will seek acceptance, even if they haven't any notion at all what they have to fight for--and the pups do." She puts down the tea and takes up the fork again. "B carries around a lot of anger and self-loathing; that bodes her ill even if it doesn't drive her to the Brotherhood. Though, if this new student found cause to flee that organization, he may be able to caution his peers against joining the same." “I guess that's reassurin',” Micah replies in a less-than-reassured tone at Jax's assertion that there should be no direct assault on the school. He stares down at his tea, shoulders tensing further as Jax outlines some of his own uncomfortable thoughts that hadn't been given voice. “Maybe. S'gotta be a reason t'run like that. 'Specially when it's that dangerous. Ain't...likely t'be good for /him/ but could actually...I dunno.” He gestures to Isra, hoping that her line of reasoning is sound. "Could be, maybe. If he settles in more. Honestly seemed more interested in havin' some sorta testosterone-off with Shane yesterday than anything else." Jax's lips twitch up, wry, his smile fleeting. "Weren't the best'a introductions, I s'pose, but it don't give me a /lotta/ hope the pups'd take nothin' he had t'say serious anyway. They're both kinda --" He exhales heavily, straightening with an unhappy scrub of fingers through hair. "Too smart." His frown doesn't make this a compliment. "Leaves the both of 'em arrogant in places they maybe shouldn't be, time to time. Lord knows they've done /had/ experience enough t'make it understandable, sometimes. Other times -- feel like it's just gonna earn 'em that much harder lessons." He plucks uncomfortably at the hem of his sweatshirt, slumping back down against the counter. His fingers curl around his tea, finally lifting it for a longer -- quieter -- sip, a shiver of smokey-dark shadow coiling around his arms. "Much too smart," Isra agrees, and though this affirmation comes with neither frown nor smile, something in her intonation suggests she /does/ intend it as a compliment. "But at least it seems unlikely that the new student will give them much /encouragement/ to hare off to the Brotherhood." She washes down the last of her pie with some tea. "I ought to get back--it's always better to have more sitters." She settles one wing down over each man's shoulder. "Besides, I want to interest Dusk in sharing some casserole, whether directly or by proxy." She wraps her shawl around one hand to keep the crock from scalding her. "Thank you, gentlemen, and good night." "Just tell 'im it's extra-garlicky. An' y'all're welcome t'more if y'want. That /or/ pie. Door's always open." Micah sets his tea down to return Isra's hug. "They... They got things in place. School an' inventin' an' Evolve. An' they /are/ real smart. S'a good thing, too." Once he disentangles himself from Isra, he wraps Jax in a tighter hug, then lets his fingertips trace through the coils of shadow as if to brush them away. "An' they got all of /us/, too. S'a lotta love here. That means somethin'."