ArchivedLogs:Unknowns

Unknowns
Dramatis Personae Micah, Dusk	4 April 2015 "This team's done a lotta impossible seemin' things so far." Part of the Future Past TP.
Location <NYC> Home - Greenwich Village
Nestled into the heart of the Village, Home is an unobtrusive place, with an unobtrusive name to match. A nondescript storefront opens up into an equally nondescript cafe, plain tiled floors, an assortment of veneered tables with plain wooden chairs or booths with cracking vinyl benches. What it /does/ have to recommend it is the food, hearty solid breakfast and brunch served twenty-four hours a day, with a wide variety of menu to cater to specialized diets as well. Well-known to locals and little frequented by tourists, its friendly serving staff tend to remember their regulars, giving the place a warm feel that lives up to its name. As the saying goes, so come the showers with the arrival of April, at least a somewhat warm rain soaking the city instead of chilling it. Home is just a little less busy than usual for a Saturday, things thrown off by the rain and the holiday weekend. Nevertheless, there is still bustle and chatter, coffee and syrup smells combining to be generally warm and welcoming. Micah's rain gear is evident piled up on the empty chair next to him at his table in the form of a jacket, newsboy cap, and Bladerunner-style umbrella tucked away in a plastic bag to reduce dripping. The rest of him is dressed simply in a charcoal tee on which a band of Minions are merrily stealing the TARDIS, rainbow-patchy jeans, and sneakers. The typical weekend muss of his auburn hair has been augmented by its stint under the hat, the moisture in the air adding to its spikiness. A plastic-covered menu in his hands is receiving a good looking over, despite how familiar he is with the offerings at this location already. Dusk isn't looking at his menu. He's half-slumped over on the table, wings drooped down to the floor, one foot hitched up onto the rung of the backless stool their server has brought for him. His cheek is squished up into one palm, eye scrunched closed, his other sleepily halfway there too. Possibly this is more dinner than breakfast for him. His fingers are raked into his shaggy mop of dark hair. His wings behind him are pale green, dark eyelets colored into their bases, the soft fuzz over their skin glimmering in a silvery sheen. "Jax actually lost at Fight Club last night." He sounds kind of amused at this. "It was new and exciting." Micah's gaze skims up over the top of his menu, regarding Dusk with a fond smile for some time before speaking. "I think maybe we need to order you all the coffee. Though you do wear the drowsy look well." He nods along with that news as if it isn't terribly surprising, though he also gives a little 'huh'. "He was in...some kinda shape when he got home. S'like that when he /wins/, too, though. Didn't tell me the story. Newcomer?" His fingertips tap at the menu. "I'm definitely gettin' the wild mushroom omelette. Thinkin' grits on the side. Orange juice. Hazelnut coffee..." There's clearly some hunger talking here, even before the little rumble his stomach adds to it. "-- Oh, /mushrooms/. I want just a giant pile of eggs though. Like seventeen eggs over-easy and a huge plate of sausage. Can I steal some of your mushrooms?" Dusk's tongue swipes across his lips, his eyes closing in brief hungry pre-emptive bliss. "Nnn. Flicker. With one arm, too. I think it was more the fasting all day. /Still/ fought, though. Crazy-ass husband you got." His grin is briiight. "'course, that means Easter's -- soon. /Oh/, oh coffee. Yeah. All of that, too." "You're more'n welcome t'steal off m'plate whenever y'like. If y'ask nice, they might throw some over your giant pile of eggs, too, though." The offer comes with a lopsided grin. "Think his crazy is pretty well-established by this point. He's...always forgettin' he's a mere mortal like the rest of us, 'specially when he ain't fulla sugar." Micah's grin only broadens with the mention of Easter, though his cheeks also pick up a splash of pink. "Got so much vegan coffee-themed chocolates for 'im this year, t'go along with the teas." Setting his menu down and looking up does catch a server's attention. "You sure he's mortal? Got more lives than a freaking cat." Dusk's grin widens as well with Micah's blush. He chuckles at the mention of the chocolates. Behind him, though, his wings -- quiver, slightly. A little shivery. "It'll be good. I'm planning on catching the vigil mass with him tonight, probably-maybe. There's hella fire. Ion's stoked." His brows have pulled inward, though. When he glances up for the server it's a little distracted, though he's warm again as he puts in his order for Ridiculously Many eggs and a plate of hash. Coffee. Cranberry juice. "... got any plans tomorrow? Or just. Staying in." "Does purr real nice if y'rub 'is belly," Micah chimes in on the cat theme, not helping his own blushing situation much. "Fire. Stoked. Hee. Should bring Kay 'long with, too. 'Cept I'd be a /little/ worried 'bout 'im getting /too/ enthusiastic." His head tilts slightly, regarding Dusk's variable facial expressions. He chooses not to push the question just yet, since there are orders to make (placed with his previously advertised choices and a pleasant please and thank you for the brilliantly red-headed middle aged woman serving) and questions to answer. "Got an egg hunt planned for the kids 'round the Commons grounds. Helpin' out with that, an' Spence wants t'do that, too. Um. Prob'ly a lot of stayin' in otherwise, though." His cheeks seem to be working on matching the server's hair. "I don't think Kay'd burn down a /church/ --" Though Dusk is /immediately/ reconsidering this with a chuckle: "Well, I don't think Kay'd burn down /Ion's/ church, anyway." His eyes light at the mention of egg hunt. "Oh /man/. What are you putting inside 'em? Oh man oh /man/. /Tell/ me you've got Tag making 'em prettier than the usual boring plastic ones." His luna-moth wings are quivering again behind him, though this time more /excited/ than shivery. “Oh, no, not on /purpose/. Just thinkin' things might get a little excite-singed,” Micah clarifies with a giggle of his own. “When /wouldn't/ Tag colour all the colourfuls? Think it might'a happened even if we /didn't/ ask 'im to. Got a variety of things. Candies, little toys, stickers, erasers, crayons, those temporary tattoo deals, little wildflower seed packets. Kinda separated out by age t'make sure we don't give the little ones choking hazards an' whatnot.” His eyes crinkle a bit with another chuckle. “Y'look like you're gonna wiggle right out of your seat.” "... maybe /I/ want an Easter egg hunt," Dusk replies with an exaggerated mock-huff. "Or a temporary tattoo. Do they have glitter? I want a glitter one. Jax gave me a real one, once." He sounds quite disappointed about it, holding out one -- very bare and un-tattoo'd arm to show Micah. "It was gorgeous. -- Wildflower seed packets?" His brows lift in curiosity. He does stop the wiggling, though. His wings droop behind him again. "Hm. I'm sure we could pick more up if y'wanted t'sign up. S'a set six eggs per kid currently," Micah offers, grin gone more lopsided-playful again. "Of course some of 'em are glitter. Same with the eggs." One eyebrow lofts as Dusk mentions the tattoo. "What was it of? Guess it just...healed away, then." He traces his fingertips lightly over the undecorated arm. "Mmhmm. Just little mixed seed bags, for plantin'. Touch of colour an' springtime." Micah's teeth meet with his lower lip as Dusk wilts. "Hon, are you okay?" Dusk shivers lightly under Micah's touch. His hand turns up, fingers curling upward to brush back against Micah's arm. "Oh, it was -- was just an armband, it. Healed off pretty quick." His wing stretches up, curls around the outside of the table to press against Micah's arm as well. "Shit, yeah, I -- not enough sleep, maybe. And Isra's out and I'm fretting --" His fist rubs against his heart. "S'silly." His lips curl into a crooked quirk of grin. "We watched Maleficent yesterday. I've been off-kilter." Micah leans into even that light touch like a leaf turning to sunlight. "Mmn, too bad. I like seein' Jax's work on folks." His head shakes at the apology. "Ain't silly. If anybody knows frettin', it's me. Help t'talk 'bout it?" The food arrives about then, multiple plates, cups, mugs, bowls all taking their time to find their places on the table. Micah gives a little nod and another thanks to the server before she scurries off to tend to someone waving at another table. "Maleficent? I haven't seen it yet. Always behind on movies." Collecting his orange juice glass, he lifts it to his lips. "The...sleepin' curse part?" he finally ventures a guess, tentative. "Mmm--ahh ow," Dusk has taken a gulp of coffee straight off. Who needs to wait for it to do silly things like /cool/. Pfft. He sucks in quick-short breaths of air to cool his tongue as he sets the mug back down. "It's excellent. Gorgeous. So many pretty faeries, Jax's eye kind of glowed through half of it." His head shakes after this, though. "The sleeping curse was -- actually kind of cute. Oddly. No. It was uh -- sort of the. Central conceit of. What turned Maleficent evil." His wings shiver behind him. This time he takes a sip of his juice instead of his overly-hot coffee. "Was just when she got her wings hacked off. Was a good movie, though." Micah nudges the juice glass closer to encourage Dusk to cool his scalded tongue. "Sugar, how many coffees have you had in your life?" he teases gently with half a smirk. "Oh, I can imagine it'd be right up his alley. I just thought maybe the...with Hive. An' all the dream stuff..." His lips fall out of their smile, brows crumpling together. "Oh...honey. I didn't know about that, that's..." Reaching out, he takes hold of Dusk's free hand. "D'you want a hug?" "This is the first coffee I've ever had. I don't know how to handle them it's too much excitement." Which is maybe why as soon as he puts the juice down, Dusk is reaching for the coffee. AGAIN. "Nah, I want coffee." Though after this he pauses, mug halfway to his lips. Quieter: "... maybe I want Hive. I guess I want a lot of things." “Mhmm,” Micah replies with a more than healthy dose of skepticism. The squeeze he gives Dusk's hand starts off as a reminder to leave the coffee for a minute, then softens into a reassurance at the other man's quieter words. “I know. It's a lot of...usually when there's been a lot of horrible goin' on there was at least more t'be done about it. Now it's just... Bein' fed horrible an' asked t'help it an' not knowin' how. There was that one glimmer of potential with Luci, but...I hit a wall there. An' I thought once we got all this goin' that maybe I could get through some progress lookin' for Maya. Or even...talkin' /direct/ t'the future now, I guess I thought they'd have more of a plan, too?” He shakes his head slowly. “Apologies, I didn't mean t'run on. Frustration just kinda bubbles out now an' then.” Dusk lowers the coffee. Maybe at Micah's squeezing, maybe at his words. "... oh." His wings quiver again. "Maya's in the future." “I know. Hive's said that she an' Strange are workin' with 'im. I mean...future-him. Future-them. T'make the dream part. We'd kinda figured her b'fore we did the others, honestly. So that /does/ mean she makes it to the future somehow, but...” Micah's shoulders raise and lower. “As for what's happened t'her /now/? Cops, PI's, nothin'.” "No, no." Dusk shakes his head. "She's /in/ the future. That's what happened to her." His fingers clench harder around his coffee cup -- his eyes drop down to it, briefly, and he visibly forces himself to relax. "She -- she went there. Walked there. Dreamwalked there. And stayed. That's why nobody can find here. It's /our/ Maya in the future working with them. She thought she could help so she stayed." "Someone saw her? Spoke t'her?" Micah's eyes widen, brows lifting. "I'd been wonderin' if it weren't somethin' like that. Was gonna get Sean, our friend who helped find Horus an' Anole that one time? T'try an' draw her. But we hadn't managed t'work out a way t'make sure it was safe in case of dreams an' time travel an' all that. Weren't sure it'd even /work/ if all that was involved..." Micah finally lifts his fork, breaking pieces free from the body of his omelette. "So, she went on purpose. Are there /two/ of her there? I wonder if she could come back, if she wanted. Oh/gosh/, has anyone told her roommate or her parents yet?" "Tag and his sister had a dream with her -- she came to ask me about it. I guess," Dusk's cheeks are colouring very faintly pink, "she mentioned me. I don't know if there's two, she didn't say. And no, I think she went by accident. But stayed on purpose." His brows furrow. "It wasn't my dream, though. I don't really know. If she could come back or not." He picks up a fork, though doesn't actually eat. "... I talked to her roommate. It's just. I didn't know how to tell her..." His teeth sink down against his lip. Hard. "Oh, I'm not sure if they know her at all. They mightn't have thought t'ask any questions 'bout her, really." Micah stares down at his plate. "S'pose the most we could do'd be t'ask questions if we get hooked into anythin' again. Meanwhile..." His shoulders rise an fall. "I'd spoken with her roommate, when I went t'check in on Maya an' found out she was missin'. At the very least, she has some understandin' of Maya's abilities. I'm not sure how /much/, but some. I think...even incomplete information t'offer'd be kinder than this utter nothin' they have t'go on now. Not knowin' is the worst kinda..." A heavier breath sighs from his lips. "You want I should talk to 'er? I promised I'd do ev'rythin' I could t'find out what happened. Do s'pose that includes relayin' information like this." He breaks into one of the chunks of omelette, stealing the mushrooms from its innards and depositing them on Dusk's plate. One of them might eat something eventually. "They don't know her. I think Tag knew /of/ her, at least. In this world, anyway. But didn't know her. And Tian-shin not really at all." Dusk's wings are still quivering. "What would you tell her? If you did -- I mean. How do you..." His eyes lift from the plate, and the smile he gives Micah is /grim/ and not even slightly humoured. "Like, are you going to tell her that we've been working on killing Maya?" "I'd hafta explain some more 'bout the future an' what's goin' on an' /why/ she might want t'stay there t'help. In a basic sense, since I haven't been able t'visit her intentions m'self. They deserve t'know /somethin'/." Micah's fork goes back to prodding omelette pieces around his plate. "I certainly wouldn't say that. That wouldn't do nobody any good. It ain't like we're /aimin'/ t'do... We don't know what her plan is or if she can even come back or anythin', sugar. It's a little premature t'be condemnin' anyone, isn't it?" His voice is soft, eyes lifting back to regard Dusk. "Not really, no. We /don't/ know anything. Just that we're working to /collapse/ a future she's living in. The fuck you /think/ is going to happen to her then? She's going to survive because -- fff. Faith and trust and pixie dust?" Dusk's head shakes, jaw clenching. "Don't think it's really fair to lie to her. Maya's in that future. We're trying to destroy it. /That's/ the damn truth." "I don't know, hon. The people who're doin' this, though? They said that we've already changed the future several times. Rewritten it. That Strange remembers the changes. An' they're still /there/ after those changes. That's the closest we've come t'knowin' what might happen." Micah's head shakes firmly. "I'm not sayin' it /wouldn't/ collapse or kill ev'ryone or any of those things. It's possible. I'm sayin' we don't /know/. Maybe she has a plan, maybe she doesn't. I have no way of knowin'. I'm /not/ suggestin' lyin'. I literally just said that I'd explain why Maya might've chosen t'stay an' work against this thing, t'the best of my knowledge. I'm just sayin' that maybe givin' an idea of what we /do/ know is the first step in deliverin' this kind of news. 'Stead of smackin' a person who's gonna be scared an' in mournin' with the coarsest presentation of a speculative negative outcome." His teeth press into his bottom lip. "I miss her, too, sugar. She's my friend, too." Dusk's head drops, his elbows resting on the table and his face pressing into his palms. "We don't know very much." His wings settle down, drooping heavily against his back. "Guess we never do. I just..." His head slides lower, palms digging in against his eyes. "Just think Maya chose to stay there because she's stupid and crazy. And now I'm going to murder two friends instead of one." Micah abandons his plate, moving to the chair beside Dusk instead of across from him and scooting up close. "I know ev'ryone keeps tellin' me I'm stupid an' naive an' deluded an' all kindsa other things when I keep sayin' we can't conclude how things're gonna be with what we know so far. I just...hafta hope there's ways t'do things better 'til I know there ain't. Hafta /look/ for ways. Now that we know it's /our/ Maya there, we can all try t'get some of these questions asked. Even if the answer is that she don't know any better than we do. That's /still/ some kinda answer. But if it's anythin' like Hive..." His voice catches a moment, remembering that conversation. The arm around Dusk tightens. "He didn't know what's t'come of it, neither, but he...didn't care. An' I hate thinkin' of... I /love/ 'im, but there's. There's some personal choice there, too. An' I can't be upset at 'em for it. Or I shouldn't be, if I'm honest with m'self about it. 'Cause I know if there was any chance I /could/ do anythin', I'd be doin' the same. So I hope an' I look an' let people say what they're gonna say 'bout it." "Fff." Dusk shakes his head once, sharply. "I can damn well be upset at him for it, stupid bastard. It's not /just/ being a martyr, it's doing it without /any/ goddamn /plan/ or clue if this would actually even work. And after all we've --" The heels of his hands scrub hard at his eyes again, and finally drop to the table. He picks up his fork, stabs a little savagely at a sausage. "But whatever. They want to kill themselves it's on them. I guess saving this world's the least we can do." “I know...I've been upset over that, too. Shouldn'ts or no.” Micah's shoulders sag a bit, his arm around Dusk now a bit of a lean. “'Cause /goodness/ I wish we had some more direction t'go in for any hope of success with this. Whatever definition of success we can reach. But...yeah. How much they want t'put themselves on the line is kinda their choice. An' that leaves us tryin' t'help save the world /and/ them as best we can with precious little knowledge t'go off.” Finally, Micah just drags his plate from across the table in front of himself to work on taking small bites. “I did mean what I said. I'm willin' t'talk t'her roommate, if you want. Or /with/ you, if that's better. It's the least I could do.” Dusk just turns his fork over. And over and over and over and over in his hand, staring down at the sausage without eating it. "Not the most pleased with how we measure success these days." But he nods, eyes still fixed ahead. "Yeah. Yeah, she should -- know. Thanks." Micah's hand slides to rub gently at Dusk's back. “I love you, sugar. You're doin' the best you can with a bad situation. S'what you always do. We just gotta remember that we got a /lotta/ folks poolin' t'work on this. An' this team's done a lotta impossible seemin' things so far. So maybe. Maybe.” The hand rubs a little harder. “I'll take care of it, sugar. Meanwhile, should eat. Keep your physical /and/ mental strength up. We're gonna need it.” His free hand takes up his fork to deliver omelette to his mouth, as if in demonstration. "This team's done -- kind of. Kind of a lot." Dusk's lips curl upward into a small crooked grin. He huffs out a small breath of laughter, dipping his head in acknowledgment. "Yeah. S'what we always do."