Logs:All The Way Through

All The Way Through
Dramatis Personae Lumin, Cyan
In Absentia	2024-12-28 “It’s like poison, people, normal people get that on them, even just a tiny amount, and they go all loopy, start seeing things and stuff. I’m like that all the way through.”
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. The winter sun has dipped well below the horizon, but Evolve has taken on a warmth because of it, the lamps casting a bright glow in spite of the early night that has settled. The tables are bustling as always but the line has at least winded down, and it's lent itself to a sort of lull. A glass with some sort of iced drink can be seen floating gently over to a nearby table from the front counter, and carefully depositing itself in front of a customer. To match the brightly colored coffeeshop, an equally colorful individual, is gracefully sliding out behind the counter to drop off a few plates to a nearby large group--too many, but they don't seem to be having much trouble, as the plates hover just above the other in a neat stack. The shifting stained glass panels that make up their body catch the abundant light and reflect and refract it in a scatter across the surrounding surfaces. They wear a pastel salmon colored tank top and flowery patterned palazzo pants, and pinned to their shirt is a name tag that says in swirly writing: Lumin. Lumin has swiftly returned to behind the counter, and with a brief look up towards the clock, they begin to wipe down the counter in preparation to swap out. Cyan has been watching the queue for some time, waiting, hoping to catch a moment where there’s fewer people around. He’s found a seat by the window, moved his chair so the table he’s at conveniently stands between him and anyone passing by, doing his best to keep his head down and while simultaneously visibly twitching every time someone enters the café. From top to bottom he’s covered in black. Black hoodie, a triple layer of black facemasks, black cargo pants, black gloves and black boots. His greyish skin stands out in contrast from the small patches where his skin is not covered, and a greenish sheen seems to lie across his eyes if they catch the light just right. His foot is tapping rapidly along with his fingers on the table, he’s had a day and he’s decided to fix that with coffee, the problem is just there’s so many people between him and the coffee. As Lumin returns to the counter he watches him as if transfixed, like a cat following a laser pointer. Maybe, he thinks, maybe if I just think real hard about it, a cup of coffee will magically appear. Lumin is doing a quick scan of the tables when they catch Cyan's eye. They don't seem surprised by the staring, but it does take them a few looks between his empty table and back up to his face for them to seemingly put something together. They hastily grab two more mugs--these ones they actually hold, and once again slide out from behind the counter. They drop them off at a table, and on their way back they detour to slow by Cyan's table, "My apologies, I- ah- haven't missed your order have I?" Their voice has an odd ring to it, almost metallic, but it's still polite and warm. They make a fluttering motion with their fingers near their shock of bright orange glass hair, "Things always get a little crazy during the rush." They smile sheepishly, and gesture towards the counter with a jab of their thumb, "I'll be swapping out in a moment, but I can make you something quite quick." Cyan seems at first startled, as if taken out of a trance, before he manages to gather himself enough to respond. So many questions. “Oh no not at all, “ if anything he seems to be staring even harder, “I uhm, was just thinking real hard, zoning out, sorry.” He forces himself to blink, looking down at the table, wringing his hands a little before deciding to sit on them. “Can I have a cup of coffee?” When he looks back at Lumin the intensity seems to have diminished somewhat, his voice taking on a rather high-pitched but hopeful tone.”I mean uhm,” he forces his voice down into its normal register, “I’d like a cup of coffee, black, please?” Lumin smile remains, if softening a little, and they wave a glass hand, “No need to fret, I’ll have that right up for you.” Their voice pitches higher at the end of their words, in a way mirroring Cyan’s. They gracefully sweep away, and quickly get started on the coffee. At the same time, a young fair skinned woman with thick black hair who exits from the back starts to take the next customer that lines up. Lumin gathers a draw string bag, waves goodbye with some polite farewells, and on their way back around the counter they grab the cup of black coffee they’d made. They route around towards Cyan’s table once again, and carefully deposit the cup in front of him. When they remove their hand, their glass fingers clink gently against the mug handle. “And there you are…” They scan him, now much more close so they can observe the greyish skin, and greenish sheen to his eyes. An expression…sort of like concern—it’s maybe hard to tell with their glass features—passes across their face, but they manage to keep their smile polite. “One black coffee.” “Thank you!” Cyan tries to smile back, but winches as it pulls on his slightly cracked lip, none of it visible through his masks, but hinted at in the little muscles around his eyes. “I’m sorry-” He starts, trying to find a way to ask this without being a massive weirdo, “-I just...like...” he hesitates again before making a decision to just be weird, “am I hallucinating or are you like, shiny?” Lumin is staring at Cyan with an intensity, but at his question they blink, then laugh softly, and the ringing that accompanies their voice is only emphasized. They bring a hand up to their mouth, “Sorry sorry- just- I promise you I am very real, and yes I really am shiny.” They bring an arm up to catch the light, and it paints spots of color across the table. “Glass all the way through.” They let the arm drop back down to their side. They’re watching Cyan again, and that same concerned expression from earlier is back, pinching their face. They visibly hesitate, before speaking again, “Are you- ah- feeling alright?” “Ah uh..well..” Cyan’s face suddenly feels very warm, and to give himself a little time to think of an answer he picks the coffee cup up, only to discover -- much to his chagrin -- that drinking through three layers of facemasks isn’t ideal. “I’m okay, well, normal I guess. This, “ he puts the cup down and points at his face, “it’s just how I look. Right? The eyes are like that cause like...” he stops. He really isn’t feeling well, today has been a long day. “Look, I just have trouble sometimes figuring out what’s real and what’s in my head, that’s totally normal, right?” Lumin tilts their head, curious, and they don’t seem put off by the explanation. “Well that’s quite alright, I’m around all types of people, trust me. I’m not one to judge.” They reassure, voice warm. They pause in consideration, and don’t answer the question regarding whether or not it’s normal and instead asks, “What usually helps with reassuring?” Their tone is causal, genuine, “I imagine me telling you I’m real doesn’t help much.” “Oh, you actually want to help?” Cyan seems a bit perplexed, but moves on rapidly, not waiting for a response. “You could sit down for once, “ he nods at the closest chair, “feels real awkward to talk to someone hovering over me like that, of course if you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I mean it’s not your job or anything....” he trails off, staring into his coffee, before very carefully, with a slight hopeful glint, looking up at Lumin again. “It’s really no issue.” Lumin is looking over towards where he nodded, and grabbing the chair, then spinning it around at the spot across from him. “Ah- my apologies- I just didn’t want to impose-” They quickly take a seat, and the sound of them sitting isn’t dissimilar to the sound of when they’d placed the ceramic mug of coffee on the table. They smile, polite, and their posture is perhaps almost eerily still—not even a rise and fall of their chest to breath—aside from the gentle idle tap of their fingers against the edge of the table. “Oh- and feel free to-” they gesture to his coffee, “Obviously no pressure, but whatever you have under those masks I can assure you, I’ve seen it all.” “Oh you’re not imposing, not at all.” Cyan’s feet are drumming up a storm, “it’s not so much the look,” he unhooks his masks, carefully sipping his coffee. Little streaks of green-blue streak across his face, fading equally fast, the right side of his lower lip is slightly cracked and his jaw is sporting one hell of a bruise, but otherwise he looks fairly normal, if a bit grey. “It’s more that I’m a bit...well, you wouldn’t want to breathe me in.” Lumin’s eyes are jumping across his face, even as the green-blue fades away. They linger on the bruise, brow pinching. They seem to be considering something, and it takes them a delayed moment to speak again, “Well, it’s quite lucky I- ah- don’t- can’t do much breathing at all then.” They smile, and lean in a little, as if they’re sharing a secret, “I’d kill it as a free diver.” They lean back again, elbows perched on the table, fingers interlocking, and chin resting on the backs of their hands. “Although, maybe a little counter intuitive to the whole reassuring you I’m real thing.” “Wouldn’t the pressure be a problem?” Cyan has settled down in a wide-eyed staring kind of look, “I’m sorry, you just look kind of...frail?” There’s a tint to his cheeks, maybe a blush, but it’s hard to tell. “I mean, I guess free divers don’t go that far down, I don’t know much about it, but like you’re very pretty -- and that’s not me flirting, just a statement of fact -- but also you kind of look like you might...break?” Again, that eery stillness is back. Lumin glances away, but there’s a soft smile that manages to hang on. “Oh- I-” They make the sound of clearing their throat, entirely performative, “Thank you,” they give a small nod of their head. They look at Cyan’s face again, and their shoulders have hitched up ever so slightly, “And- well- I’m not-” They tilt their head back and forth, “Broke my hand off once.” They admit finally, casually, and wave one of their hands, as if to demonstrate its wholeness, “Was able to reattach it though, with some assistance.” They bring their hand back so they can rest their head back down, “You have a wonderful shimmer going on yourself—well it’s gone now. But it was there.” “Huh, “ again Cyan sips his coffee, considering this new information he’s been given. “So you’re like... glass? All the way through? Sorry, is that rude to ask?” He fidgets a little, turning the cup in his hands, “I’m just curious, you know?” He puts the cup down, absentmindedly prodding his cracked lip, staring at his own hand. “I haven’t ever lost a limb, but I don’t think it would reattach itself easily if I did.” “I would definitely advise against trying it. Probably would be quite a bit messier than mine.” Lumin says with a wince, “And, no need to stress, really.” They reassure, and they shrug with a good humored smile, “It’s about as common a question as you’d expect. I don’t mind.” They place their hands back down against the table, and their fingers drum lightly against it, “As far as I know, glass all the way through.” They raise one hand out so the light can cast colors across the table. “Pros and cons, I suppose.” They lift their gaze back up to Cyan now, “So…what does breathing you in mean? Is that rude for me to ask?” They tilt their head downwards and to the side so they can look at him with raised brows, “Is it a, bad smell thing? I ah- wouldn’t be able to tell.” “Ah no, “ Cyan makes a crooked grin, “I’ve been told I smell quite minty actually. Nah, it’s like... Like, my shimmer?” He pauses, then pulls off one of his gloves, holding up his hand for Lumin to see as streaks of green-blue evaporates off his skin. “It’s like poison, people, normal people get that on them, even just a tiny amount, and they go all loopy, start seeing things and stuff. I’m like that all the way through.” Lumin’s eyes widen at the shimmer, curious, and they pick their head back up. They lean in even, despite the explanation. They hum, and it reverberates through them in a ring like a wine glass. “All the way through.” They look up with just their eyes. Their gaze shifts from eye to eye on Cyan, and they lean back again, “Can’t turn it off, then?” They gesture to the gloves, the masks. "Nope." Cyan states firmly, breathing a little easier as Lumin leans away again. Sure, in theory Lumin shouldn't be affected, but Cyan isn't quite prepared to test it. "No way to turn it off, no way to calm it down, kind of like trying to tell your body to stop sweating, if there's a trick to it I haven't figured it out yet." He puts the glove back on, finishing his coffee before hitching his facemasks back in place. "I assume you similarly can't just stop being..." He gestures at all of Lumin in general, "...shiny? Lumin laughs again, “Oh, no no. If I could, I probably wouldn’t choose to have the same hair style I picked when I was fifteen.” They flick at the tip of their glass hair with a finger. “I suppose you could turn yourself entirely into glass, then you’d stop sweating. I can’t say I recommend it though.” They drum the fingers of one hand on the table surface. They seem to be debating something. They turn to look back towards the woman at the counter, then back to Cyan.“How long do people usually last around you with your mask off? Am I breaking any records?” They ask, curious. This time it’s Cyan who laughs, a small chuckle as he turns his head away a little. “Depends on how close they are and how hard I’m breathing. This close? A five to ten minutes is usually okay, if I’m exhausted or there’s skin contact on the other hand, it’s pretty instant.” He seems visibly more relaxed now, putting his elbows on the table and mimicking Lumin’s earlier lean. “What, you wanna try?” Lumin hums, and turns to look up towards the clock in the shop. “…Skin contact.” They echo, dawning, and they can’t seem to hide the hint of…concern-sympathy that wedges itself into their tone. They shift in their seat, and they continue to watch Cyan. After one more pause of consideration, they offer their hand out to shake, palm slightly up, an open invitation, “I’m Lumin.” They smile, encouraging, “And what may I call you?” Very gently, carefully as if he’s scared he’s going to break something, Cyan takes Lumin’s hand. “Cyan. You know, like the colour. I'm Cyan all the way through."