ArchivedLogs:Trimming

Trimming
Dramatis Personae Jax, Micah, Flicker	20 December 2014 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Makerspace - Lower East Side
It isn't huge in this workshop, but it's well-ventilated and well-equipped. Like the Common house, this building -- small and shedlike and tucked off to a side of the courtyard -- is accessible to Commons residents via their electronic keycards. Stocked with plentiful tools for all kinds of workmanship, it has a small number of workspaces along the side of the room with a fair amount of open floorspace that can be repurposed as needed. In different corners there are a couple more specialized sections -- one front corner has been walled off into its own darkroom, and farthest off in back, cordoned off and thankfully left empty when not in use, is a squat furnace with a tendency to look like a pot of glowing lava when it is filled with molten glass. Outside it might have gotten frozen-cold again, but in here it's fiercely warm. Warm enough that Jax has stripped down to just a single layer, multicoloured purple-gold swirled shirt and there's /still/ sweat beading up on his forehead. He's not /at/ his furnace anymore, though earlier he was; whatever he /was/ working on, then, has moved into the kiln to anneal, now. At the moment though he's at a table in front of a torch, bright bubble of glass at the end of a long rod of it, glowing orange-red at the moment. There's a stick of blue glass held in one hand; he's using it to /paint/ on the other piece he holds, melting glass onto glass in slow and careful swirls. Dark safety goggles shade his eyes, more for the sake of no /shards/ entering them than because of the bright glowing lights. Micah hasn't been helping the heat of the room any, off and on working on small welding projects to make metal ornaments and sculptures set up to have tiny lights placed inside of them. Just at the moment, he has moved back over to the sewing table, however, working on the less-heated project of adding flocking fibres to stuff assorted knitted ornaments and sewing them up once they're filled. He is likewise dressed in not a lot, just jeans and a Flutterbat T-shirt. His auburn hair is spiky with sweat, plastered here and there to his forehead. Coming in /from/ the cold outside, Flicker is a little bit more bundled. Jacket over sweater over polo, boots, jeans. Scarf, mittens, hat. A takeout bag in his hands. Cheeks reddened, eyes a bit dark-shadowed. Maybe not much sleep, lately. A quick smile pulls his mouth up as he examines the work going on in here, quiet at first as he finds an empty un-busy table to set the bag down on. It smells like Chinese. "Hungry? Looks kind of like hungry work." He's starting to peel out of his layers already as the heat sinks in. Unwinding scarf. Pulling off hat. It makes his hair beneath stick up messily in some places, lie silly-flat in others. "Feel like this place is gearing up. Some kind of -- decorations explosion." Jax doesn't look up so much as /perk/ up, the air around him literally brightening and a warm smile spreading across his face. "Oh, gosh, /starvin'/." He doesn't stop what he's doing, though; melty glass gets /finicky/ at stages. "Sure it is, y'can't jus' -- decorate all willy-nilly, you gotta /prepare/. You gotta be /ready/. We're gonna make this place /shine/. Stars /everywhere/. Glitterbombs." “Hm?” Micah finally looks up from his table, with the appearance of one who hasn't done this in /quite/ some time. “Food? What time is it?” They might have been at this quite some while. “Food.” The second time he says it the word sounds /hungry/. “Ohgosh. It's gotta be food time. You're wonderful.” He wraps up what he's doing enough to push it aside on the table and move to inspect what Flicker has brought along. Fabric things are far less finicky than glass. “We're gonna do /so/ much decoratin' t'morrow. But most of ev'rybody's stuff got exploded, so. New stuff!” "Stars." Flicker tugs his mittens off, putting them in a pile with the rest of his winter accessories. "That'll be nice. Hive will be glad. Ours got --" His fingers pull together. Spread outward -- poof. Exploded. "It's way food time. Garlic eggplant. Ma po tofu. Veggie dumplings. Some -- bitter melon thing. You're, um, not really making a glitterbomb are you?" His tone implies he thinks this is /entirely/ a possibility. His head has turned vaguely in the direction of Tag's house. "Glitter hand grenade." Now Jax does look up, brightly grinning. He holds his shiny round ball in a pair of long metal tweezers, tapping it once carefully against the table to break it off of its glass stem before he moves it over to the kiln. "Ammo for the faery wars. Oh /man/ oh man." He's evidently had some more healing, somewhere along the way -- possibly when he stopped by Xavier's for the dance, because /he/ dances over to Flicker, bouncy-stepped to rise /up/ onto the balls of his toes and drop a light kiss on the other man's cheeks. "You're lovely. Thanks." Though even if not /injured/ this burst of energy has him just as soon collapsing down onto a chair, /slump/, face pale as he reaches for the food. "I'm excited, it's gonna be pretty-pretty. Tag is gonna make this place /fantastic/ oh my /gosh/ what he did t'Dusk yesterday? I didn't want t'get my hands /off/ his wings --" Though this admission immediately pulls his pale cheeks into the /most/ ferocious of blush. "... I just meaned all the purple an' blue an' all it was. So pretty. M'sure this whole place is. Gonna be gorgeous." “Done made /so many/ stars t'day,” Micah agrees, the pile of completed decorations on his bench also offering testimony to the fact. “Mmmn, garlic eggplant. Have I mentioned lately that you're wonderful?” He giggles at the talk of glitter bombs and glitter grenades. “Jax /is/ a glitterbomb, what're you talkin' about. Just walk into a room. Boom. Glittery. Y'saw the Halloween costume he got me in this year, right?” Micah wanders off to a sink in a corner to wash his hands clean of craft supply bits before returning to /food/. “So pretty. But when /don't/ y'wanna keep hands on Dusk's wings?” The playful smirk tugging across his lips implies...half teasing Jax and half that /he/ has no room to talk, himself. “S'gonna be so pretty. /Such/ a party. Once we're done with this, gonna be spendin' a bunch of time in the kitchens, too. Make so much delicious t'go with the pretty.” Flicker doesn't have any real reason to blush but he's doing it anyway, between the thanks and the peck and the talk of hands on Dusk's wings, cheeks burning as well. He drifts away from the food, himself, wandering off towards the woodworking section. Fingers tracing slowly over equipment. Almost a caress. "I'll /eat/ all the delicious. S'like helping, right?" The smile he flashes over his shoulder is bright. Jax rubs at the back of his neck, his blush extending to tint the air aroud him pinkish. He opens up the dumplings, plucking one out with his fingers to dip it in sauce and eat it hungrily. "... pretty much always want," he agrees with Micah. "But they're /so/ so pretty. I mean always pretty. But now they're /purple/. -- You got any requests? I'll bake up a whole /mountain/'a sweets." His fingertip lingers between his lips, sucking sauce off of it as he watches Flicker. "... got any projects of your own on your mind?" His other hand turns upwards. "I don't got to get to bakin' straightaway. Got free hands, if you need 'em." "M'makin' bacon-wrapped stuffed chicken breasts as the meat-thing, I think. Shane an' B was big fans the last time an'...figured any little thing as might cheer B up lately's a good. Got a few vegan casseroles lined up, too." Because, honestly, when does Micah /not/ have casseroles lined up. "Also a lotta appetizer-y finger-y foods. You make somethin' chocolate an' I'm pretty much set," he informs Jax as far as any requests on his part. "Mmn. Speakin' of Dusk, I should pay 'im a visit soon enough now he's done not-talkin' at us so much. Usually give back rubs t'help 'im deal with the wing strain an' ain't been at it recently. S'prob'ly a solid knot 'less he cajoled somebody else into it." He follows the others' gaze over to the woodworking table. "We got so many supplies. Lotsa things ended up left over after the bigger furniture projects we was workin' on over the summer." "Something been wrong with B?" Worry pushes the smile off Flicker's face for a moment. Brows furrowing, concern in his tone. "Seems like it's been a rough time for people lately." His smile is quick to return, though. "I'm feeling gingery. Something gingery. Did you see the egg?" Maybe this change of topic is because of the mention of Dusk. "Tag hit that up too. I think Horus was -- involved." /Definite/ amusement in his voice. He's circling the table, fingers still trailing over the equipment. "Yeah, I --" Something wistful is creeping into his voice. "Moving in seems so long, now. Did some nice things, though. Think Dusk and Isra like the chairs I --" He stops, mechanical arm shifting. Stiff-uncomfortable at his side. His smile is brighter when he looks back over at Micah and Jax. "Could do with some more wing-friendly chairs in the dining room. Common house. If you've got the time." "Been a rough time lately," Jax agrees. "The egg? I ain't seen -- no. Wait. Why's /Horus/ got the -- huh?" He just blinks at this, over another mouthful of dumpling. "/Sure/ I got time, sugar. Party ain't till /tomorrow/, I got /so/ much time." There may be /just/ a little extra bounce in his posture when Flicker's smile brightens, /just/ a little over-eagerness to assist with this. "Chocolate an' ginger go good /together/," he muses, too. Still a little bouncy. "An' /I/ like your beds. An' your crazy hammock. But the chairs is cool too." "Rough time lately. An' those awful future dreams keep happenin'," Micah explains to Flicker's question. "Nothin'...physically threatenin', not t'worry. Just stressful." He is a little torn at mention of the egg, brow furrowing at first at the amount of /tension/ the thing has brought into people's lives. This fades into a fond smile soon enough, however. "Ohgosh, is there an Easter Egg, now? I know Isra goes t'Tag regular for colourin'. Guess if she /an'/ Dusk both went, makes sense Egg went, too. Horus? Is Horus eggsittin' now? 'Cause that'd be precious as anythin'." Micah nods agreement about both chairs /and/ timing. "Yep, we got plenty of time. S'why we started on things t'day. Get the three of us t'gether, stuff should come along nice. Wanted t'put a few perches in the common areas for Horus, too. Maybe...encourage 'im t'be around, even though there's more people now." "I -- think the pups are eggsitting," Flicker admits. "Definitely a colorful egg now. Kind of glitter. Kind of chrome. Maybe Horus was pinch-hitting. Pinch-sitting?" His shoulder lifts, falls. Little-bit-uncertain exactly /where/ Horus fits into the life of Egg. He's gotten more bouncy, too. Quicker twitch to his motions, brighter, more restless as he starts going through supplies. Rearranging. Gathering. "Perches. We could do that. Get /them/ painted up colorful, too. Like a Horus-lure. Shiny." "Horus ain't hard to lure." There's a small giggle in Jax's voice. "S'jus' hard t'/keep/. But we could paint such pretty perches. Shine 'em up proper. -- Did..." For a moment there's a /distinct/ uncertainty in his voice. Almost wary. "Isra really left the egg with the pups?" His teeth scrape over his lower lip, brows furrowing inward. His eyes drop to the food, and he lapses into a pensive silence as he starts digging into the tofu. "Huh." He shakes his head quickly, smile returning. "Well. M'glad Egg's gotten -- t'enjoy the. Season too, then." His tongue swipes sauce from his lips, eye darting over to follow Flicker's more animated movements. "Jus' tell us where y'want us, honey-honey." “The pups? The /pups/ are egg-sittin'? How'd /that/ happen? I don't even know what that could possibly...” Micah frowns, his chopsticks delivering more eggplant to his mouth to fill in the pause. “They were less than pleased with us talkin' 'bout adoptin' Egg. Once it hatches. We just really need t'talk with 'em again. Maybe that means they're more...ready now.” He just leave it at that for now. “So many kindsa perches. S'a pretty versatile thing t'work on. Lotsa options. Can get 'em set up all /kindsa/ shiny an' colourful an' distractin'. Let's do this.”