ArchivedLogs:What If

What If
Dramatis Personae Micah, Hive
In Absentia	14 January 2014 So, Micah might be some kind of mutant after all... >_> (Part of the Morpheus and Prometheus TPs.)
Location <NYC> Candyland - Village Lofts - East Village
This bedroom is bright, bright, bright, a cheerful riot of colour in contrast to the more minimalist scheme outside. It, too, has a plethora of lamps to lend it even more light than what comes in from the large windows opposite the entry; many of them bear stained-glass coverings in cheerful mosaic patterns to add still more colour to the room. The walls have been painted in pale blue with darker blue trim, though one is instead a mural of surreal fantastical artwork, odd unearthly plant and animal life spread across it in vivid colours. There is scattering of furniture here -- a bed on the wall adjacent to the window (usually dressed in vividly patterned mismatched sheets), a dresser opposite the bed, standing beside the large closet, both in wood that has been painted black and then covered in a swarm of brightly coloured images, too. The wall near the door bears an enormous handmade shelving unit, similarly painted; it is filled largely with meticulously organized art supplies. By the window, a desk stands in as-yet-unpainted wood; besides laptops and drawing tablet it often bears an eclectic mix of items, too. Comic books, knitting supplies, a hiking pack of climbing gear. It is early enough for a winter morning that the sun would only be starting to peek sheepishly over the horizon, as if concerned for waking everyone. The grey drizzle that hangs heavy in the sky makes it even darker. As such, Micah isn't sure just what it is that his hand hits up against in the beanbag next to him as he wakes. He clicks on the reading lamp on the nearby table, inspecting the stained-glass patterned metal dragonfly with a look of wondered puzzlement for some minutes. His fingers sketch over the smooth metal and he even /sniffs/ at the object as if this will be somehow illuminating. Furrow-browed, he finally takes to his (fuzzy bright blue with Cookie Monster-) stockinged feet and follows the light sneaking out under Jax's--now Hive's--bedroom door. The knock is so subtle that it might not be noticed, if not for recurring thrice. On the other side of the door is a sleep-tousled Micah in a steel blue henley shirt and black pajama pants decorated with the Mane Six's cutie marks. The metal dragonfly is held out in his hand as if it were /alive/ and a look of sheer bafflement is on his face. << Come in. >> Hive's voice doesn't come in its usual painful sledgehammering, quiet-soft as it whispers into Micah's head with a soft echoing chorus of voices beneath it. Inside, though, Hive is definitely at least /alert/. In contrast to his sometimes-zombie-brain he's sitting at the desk -- he's moved an extra monitor of his down from his apartment and has his laptop now plugged into it. The smaller laptop screen holds a couple windows of -- boring forms, really, while on the larger one he's been working on the very beginnings of modelling -- well, something. Building-like. It's really too early to look particularly more interesting than some sketched-out lines and measurements. He's in jeans, his red-and-gold Theta Tau sweatshirt over his brown hedgehog tee, and he doesn't /look/ towards the door so much as his mind opens more alertly to listen to Micah's. Micah slips through the door before nudging it closed with a hip. His sleep and otherwise befuddled brain is happy not to have to work the word-things through his mouth, easily slipping into silent communication. << Hive. You've talked about seein' Spence's dreams before. Do you just...hear everybody's if you're awake an' they're asleep or whatever? >> His eyes track down to the dragonfly cradled in his palm. << See everyone's dreams, >> Hive acknowledges, << awake or asleep. In sleep they just creep into -- >> There's a hesitation, a /stumbling/ over the correct pronoun, but he gets it out: << -- mine. >> Hive saves his work, swivelling his desk chair around to look over Micah. Then at the little dragonfly statuette. << That one of Jax's? S'gorgeous. >> << So, that means you saw mine tonight? >> Micah's mind flits through a few scenes of Jax and an animated forest and being underwater. He holds out the dragonfly for Hive to inspect. << No, it isn't one of his. Not really. I mean. It was in the dream. An' the dream was strange enough already. Not...like m'dreams've been at all lately. >> Another image comes now, the dragonflies looking suspiciously like this one, flying under a lake. << An' when I woke up, it was next t'me. It ain't one I ever seen before. An' it's...perfect. Not even a single weld spot holdin' separate pieces of metal together. >> His lips scrunch over to one side. << Was like it just...popped out of m'head an' /there it was/. >> << Saw it, >> Hive confirms, with a nod, a very small twitch of smile briefly curling across his lips. << It was -- >> There's an odd /sense/ of tears that accompanies this mental pause, and he draws in a slow breath. << Better. Nicer. Than most of yours have been, I could almost -- >> But here he just shakes his head quickly, leaning forward to take the dragonfly from Micah. He turns it over, fingers brushing lightly against the glassy wings. << His style, you sure it's not just -- >> His brows draw together, though, the longer he inspects it. His lips compress. << Micah, you can't -- /make/ things come out of your dreams. >> << It was like he was really there, Hive, >> Micah adds, the feeling wrapped around the thought bittersweet. << I don't know, honey. If it came out of the dream or was just /inspired/ by it, but that thing manifested...from my thoughts. It seems like. I mean, ain't we seen stranger things? People turnin' into shadows an' shootin' laserbeams an' raisin' the dead? S'this so hard t'b'lieve? >> His head nods to the dragonfly. << It's just...I mean. I was the only one there, yeah? No one else has been in the livin' room that y'noticed? >> << It felt like him, >> Hive agrees wistfully, scrubbing his fingers through his choppy-shaggy hair. << But no s'just been you. Even the pups haven't left their bed in while. >> His cheeks puff out, dark eyes fixing on Micah. "Yeah," he says aloud, "we've seen stranger /powers/ but." << But stranger things than a /human/ manifesting dreams into reality? That's pretty fucking strange, dude. And you're like. The most frequently-doctored person I've known outside the labs, if you were a mutant wouldn't you have /known/ by now? >> << I just don't know what else t'think, Hive. How else d'you get a thing made of /completely unworked/ metal than it...appearin'? >> Micah settles onto the floor at Hive's feet, resting his forehead on the other man's knee for a moment before looking up again. << An' I was the only one /there/. I mean...folks don't necessarily have any physical signs of bein' a mutant aside from the presence of the gene a lotta the time, right? Maybe we were wrong... I mean, they say these things frequently start happenin' in times of /stress/, don't they? So... It's possible, isn't it? What else could it be? >> << So you've never actually been tested? >> Hive still holds the dragonfly in one hand, looking over it with an increasingly /frowny/ expression. His other hand drops to rest on Micah's head, fingers scrubbing into the other man's hair. << Lots of people go through their whole lives and don't know they carry the gene, >> he allows, << and it's /rare/ to manifest this late -- but not. Un/heard/ of. But. Fuck. >> His fingers scrunch harder into Micah's hair, half a head massage and half a clenching-unclenching /grip/ on tousled hair. << You don't want to be a fucking mutant, dude, you're freak enough already. >> << Not...actually. It's expensive. I mean...I just've never /done/ anythin'...ability-like. An' there ain't nobody in m'/family/ that I know of on either side an'... It never /did/ come up in any medical testin'. >> Micah leans into the rub of Hive's fingers. << It's not a matter of want or don't want, honey. It's...d'you think that's what this is? I don't gotta better answer. I'm just... I don't know. Even if that /is/ what this is. What that means. Is it pullin' stuff outta dreams? Is it...just causin' things t'manifest an' the dream was what was on m'mind when it happened, so it just took cues from that? Maybe the dream's got nothin' t'do with it. It was just...so /unusual/. An' so /real/. I mean. Not it. Him. >> His lips press thin. << What would you think? >> << I'd think I'd lost my fucking mind. >> Hive's answer comes unreassuringly immediate, very /dry/ in his quiet mental voice. << But I don't know a lot of people who can just. Pull something from /nothing/ I mean. Jax doesn't /make/ light, he stores it and refocuses it -- you can't just. I mean, I /do/ know people who /create/ the shit they do but usually at -- a crapton of expense to themselves because that energy has to come from /something/. Uh. How are you -- feeling? >> His fingers tip Micah's head back to look up at him. << You can go get tested down at the Clinic. Know for sure. >> << I'd think that more if y'weren't seein' it, too, >> Micah admits. << I dunno. Maybe it's made of...particles gathered from somethin'. I have no idea. >> His head shakes slowly beneath Hive's hand. << I'm not any more...tired or hungry or anythin' than usual. I'm always kinda starvin' when I first wake up. >> Hazel eyes turn up to meet Hive's with the tip of his head. << But should I? That's /still/ crazy-expensive t'do. An' maybe not a good idea, considerin'? I mean...if I don't...even if it's true I can claim not t'know. >> His teeth bite into his lower lip. << I'm also worried. If it's just makin' things happen without m'control. 'Specially if it's makin' things from dreams? That little figure had every bit as much chance of bein' a gun. This could be dangerous. >> << Not the most reliable corroborating witness, >> Hive points out, similarly wry here as well. << People going fucking crazy around me tends to leak in. >> He sets the little dragonfly down to stand on Micah's forehead when Micah's head tips back, balancing it there neatly. << Pfft, be blatantly nepotistic like every other damn person on earth. Lean on Jax's employee -- whatever. Though, yeah, once you do it you can't /un/fire that bullet. >> His hands slide down to Micah's temples, slowly rubbing there. Gently, so as not to dislodge the dragonfly from its new perch. << Well. Then. Let's hope you keep having good dreams. >> Micah's cheeks turn fiercely red at Hive's comment. << Oh, I guess. Maybe not. >> His hand collects the dragonfly gently from his head, cradling it again with the back of his hand resting on his knee. << Maybe...maybe I should wait, then. See if somethin' else happens? I mean, if this is the only thing that ever happens, then this is just a strange...somethin'. But if /other/ things start t'happen. Prob'ly it's me. >> He presses back into Hive's touch. << Might be a little /much/ t'hope. Ohgosh, though, Hive. It felt like he was there. It was...so much like he was there an' then I woke up an' had t'remember... >> << Ask the pups, /their/ senses don't really lie. >> Hive's massaging grows firmer when Micah removes the dragonfly, hands sliding back to the back of Micah's head, fingers working in at the base of the other man's neck. << Something? Like what, like a -- >> Hive exhales sharply. << Miracle. -- It almost did feel like him, >> he admits softly. << But you were -- >> His fingers rub in slow circles. << Dreaming. It's better, though, isn't it? Than all the nightmares? >> << Yeah, they often know...maybe more'n they should about things. I'll let 'em play with it, at least, see if they notice somethin' we aren't seein'. >> A soft purring sound comes from the back of Micah's throat, his head tipping forward to give Hive more room to work. His eyes drift closed as if he may fall asleep again. << Dunno. Weird coincidence. One of those...inexplicable things. >> He sighs heavily. << Anythin's better than the nightmares. It feels like they'll just never /end/ sometimes. But this was...wonderful. An'...that hurts in a dif'rent way, I guess. >> << Good. At the least, maybe it'll be nice having a -- little bit of. Positive. Even if it -- >> Hive's hands slip down against Micah's shoulders, and he leans down as well, pressing a kiss to the other man's forehead and sitting back up. << Wonderful is good. Too much shitty, and you stop remembering that the wonderful is /possible/. -- Though I gotta admit, dude, if you are a freak I hope this is some fucked-up kind of precognition. >> Micah's shoulders roll back into Hive's hands like a cat drowsily moving into petting. << I miss 'im so /much/, Hive. You'd think that would get lost in the middle of...the worry an' the guilt an' everyone...fallin' apart. But it doesn't. I must reach for 'im a hundred times a day an' every time it's still... >> He cuts himself off, a little snort of laughter answering the other man's wish. << So I'm some sorta dream-precog. with matter manifestation powers? That'd be...strange even by /our/ standards. You're...workin' on Lucien's project, though, aren't you? You're quieter. An'...awake at this hour. >> << Don't know if that ever gets better, >> Hive admits regretfully. << You watch Dusk enough, you still catch him -- his eyes stop on every fucking shadow, his wings reach out to brush -- >> His teeth grit together as his fingers knead slowly at Micah's shoulders. << Only the difference is, Jax will be coming /back/. One day you'll reach for him and he'll /be/ there. >> There's a long pause before he answers the rest, his hands just working at Micah's muscles, pressing in more firmly where they're tense and knotted. << Yeah. Been seeking out the people I used to have, the past couple days. Lucien helped. Stabilize while -- we had a lot of fucking people yesterday. >> His breathing is shakier, slower. << Don't want to make any guarantees yet, Micah. But there's a lot -- >> His mental voice is more strained, now, more /sickened/, << -- of people working in those labs. Here in our -- my -- in our head. And some of them might be willing to help. And if they do -- >> He lets that trail off into silence, absently patting Micah on the shoulder and withdrawing his hands. << Strange, ppff. Don't even know what the fuck normal is anymore. Take that damn thing to the pups, make sure we're not /both/ just going fucking crazy. And that wonderful? Hold on to that. S'been goddamn needed. >> << Miss him, too, >> is all that comes at the mention of Dusk. Micah blinks away the film of tears that swirl the image of the dragonfly in his hand in front of him. << That's good. It's good you're maybe makin' progress. >> A fierce welling of protective-love dominates Micah's thoughts for a moment. << I'll just...keep remindin' Lucien he's gotta be careful an' take good care of you. Want 'im droppin' y'off in at least as good condition as he borrowed y'in. >> A hint of a smile sneaks its way onto his face. << I will, honey. Soon as they're awake. It's still kinda mad-early in the mornin' right now. You ever gonna sleep? >> << Awake, >> Hive answers with a heavy breath, shaking his head. << Heh. That's cute. You actually think they sleep, these days? >> He glances back over his shoulder to his computer. << We'll sleep when this is over. My head is full of -- they're /in/ the labs, Micah. Have to watch these people -- go to work and -- >> There's a by-now familiar grinding noise as his teeth scrape together. << Rather get work done. Good distraction. >> << They do, sometimes, >> Micah argues softly. << Guess there's just not a /lot/ of sleep goin' on 'round here. >> At the rest of it, he cups the dragonfly in his hand, coming up on his knees and twisting around to wrap Hive in a tight hug. << Sorry, honey. That's gotta be... A whole other kind of awful. I can...let y'get back to it. >> He gives a tighter squeeze before working his way up to his feet. << Sometimes. Usually when you're there. >> Hive reaches down to squeeze Micah back, tightly. << Whatever. If it gets them back and hits these bastards harder -- be fucking worth it. >> His head tips forward, resting briefly against the top of Micah's head. He straightens as Micah stands, twisting his chair back around to the computers. "Wouldn't say no if you put on a pot of coffee while you're up." << Mmn. Maybe I'll go...lay with 'em for a little bit an' see if they'll fall asleep. >> Micah stops the chair twisting briefly to be able to look at Hive square-on before he leaves. << Not /whatever/. You do what needs doin', but /you/ take care of you, too. Love you, too, honey. If nothin' else, we don't need one more person t'/miss/ 'round here. >> He gives the chair a light push to set it back on the path he'd interrupted, a hand going to muss Hive's choppy hair-mess instead. "Yeah, coffee. Breakfast a little while later. I'll bring your plate in." His hold on the telepath's hair releases as he moves to the door. "Love you, hon. Be careful." Hive meets Micah's eyes steadily, but looks away in silence to the computer screen. << Thanks. >> His elbow rests on the desk, head dropping into his hand for a moment. But eventually he straightens again, reaching back for his mouth to turn back to work.