Logs:Evolution Moves

Evolution Moves
Dramatis Personae Tag?, Sarah
In Absentia	2020-10-11 "it’s also just a bone-deep need to be liked, I think."
Location <NYC> Village Lofts Roof - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if unwise) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. It's bright today, a faint breeze this high up edging the pleasant weather from mild into slightly brisk. The sounds of the city drift up to punctuate the rooftop solitude with life -- a jazz band in the park across the street, a drummer on the sidewalk just down below, a pair of enthusiastic dogs meeting and yipping in exuberant play. Perched alone on the edge of the fallow garden bed is one very bright figure, barefoot in knee-length rainbow paneled skirt and a black tee with bright whorls of color slowly creeping their way up from the hem, hair a vivid shade of iridescent metallic purple. Where this Tag's fingers curl against the wooden edge of the bed there is color seeping as well, the boards sprouting a vibrant fractal-pattern design in shades of blue and green and purple. He's humming quiet, head bobbing kind of in time with the drumbeat that wafts up from below. The rooftop door creaks open enough to allow a green eye to peek out. Satisfied she isn’t going to be barging in on a rooftop gathering, Sarah shoulders the door the rest of the way open to emerge, blinking, into the sunlight. Her pink-purple-blue watercolor hair moves and shifts color with the breeze, revealing cornsilk roots. Her outfit is even more colorful: rainbow tie-dye shortalls, yellow and white striped tee underneath with sunshine yellow Converse. “Hi Tag,” she offers cheerful, with a smile that dims a bit when her gaze lands on the empty garden bed. “Pretty pattern. Are you thinking about taking care of the garden for Jax while he’s gone?” The unTag looks up with a small shake of his head, hair flipping back off his face. For all the good that does him when it blows back across his eyes in the next moment. "While he's gone?" The eyebrows that he raises have just tinted themselves brilliant purple, too. "He moved. I'm pretty sure that's a permanent situation. This is a free-for-all garden bed, now." “Wishful thinking on my part,” Sarah answers, shrugging. Her arms fold across her stomach as she wanders closer to inspect the garden bed. As if she knows anything about it. “I don’t think I’d have the time to tend a garden but I hope someone does. It was nice, having something growing up here.” "You could tend it!" notTag hops to his feet, sweeping an arm out over the empty bed with a bright smile. "I'm sure the internet could teach you. Other people. Whoever. Chimaera has a class or two -- no time soon, though," he reconsiders with a small wrinkle of brows. "It'd be like --" He's stretching his arms out in front of him as he considers, "the next stage in your Pokemon evolution. All you'd really need is a little bit of fighting skill and you'd arrive." “Maybe...” Sarah does not yet sound convinced, but there is a hopeful consideration in her voice that wasn’t present before. “I do like the idea of evolving. I might get taller. Or have muscles.” She raises her arms, flexing what biceps are there with a giggle. “Or learn Max Overgrowth.” The garden bed receives another look. “Do you think it’s too late to plant anything?” "Yeah! Whole world of possibilities." !Tag's grin flashes quicksilver across his face. His steps are light, on his toes, as he bounces to the edge of the roof. "Plants first, then maybe you'll grow some tattoos. Adopt some stray monsterlings. Anything's possible." He hops up to perch on the railing, legs dangling down inside the wall. "Oh, hmm, I don't really know! I follow other people's lead on --" A waggle of hand toward the dirt. "I'm like a good gardening sous-chef, you'll need to talk to a real master if you want deep knowledge." “Oh gosh.” Sarah raises a hand to her mouth to cover a laugh, the back of her fingers Tag-tattoo’d with baking utensils hanging from a rack across her knuckles. “Tattoos, maybe. I do really like these.” Her fingers wiggle in example. “I don’t know about kids. I don’t think I’d know--” Her smile falls for a split second, returns almost naturally. “—how to be a mom. Home gardener, though...” She sits, taking not!Tag’s previously occupied perch. “That sounds a lot easier to learn.” The smile drops away from unTag's face at Sarah's laugh, his fingers curling against the guardrail and his eyes lifting to the sky. "Nobody knows how to be a mom. Hasn't seemed to stop you trying with --" His legs swing, heels thumping lightly against the wall. "Half the building. Half of everyone." His shrug is small. "I don't know how to do either so I couldn't tell you what's easier." Sarah thinks about that for a quiet moment, dragging her fingers through the dirt. “I don’t know if that’s me being any sort of mom,” she finally says. “It’s caring for others, but it’s also just a bone-deep need to be liked, I think. And people like food. People always need food. So here I am.” Fingers clench in the dirt. She holds up her other hand, fingers spread wide. Ta-da. Tries for a smile again. “You’re right though, it’s not something people know. We wouldn’t be talking about it if we did, I guess.” This prompts a return of Tag's smile, a giggle stifled against the crook of his arm. "People do like food," he's quick enough to agree, dropping his hand back and hopping down off the wall. "Is that working out for you?" Brushing her hands together over the garden bed in an attempt to rid the one of them of dirt, she shrugs. “I think so. I haven’t had anyone run away screaming when they see me. You’re still here talking to me. I can only take that as a good sign, right?” she asks, grinning far more genuinely as she looks at Tag. "Huh! So I am!" Tag's smile is a quick darting thing, a laugh bubbling up out of him. "I guess you can take that how you like. Your cookies are great." His light-bouncing steps are carrying him back towards the door, though not in any great hurry. "Anyway, running away screaming is such a spectacle, you know? Sometimes you're polite and don't want to make a fuss like that. Sometimes you just --" He pauses by the door, eyes drifting back toward the garden bed. "Move." Confusion overtakes Sarah’s grin; it fades to a small frown, brows knitting together while Tag makes his way to the door. It lingers a moment longer after he finishes speaking. By the time comprehension dawns and quickly rolls into hurt and shock, the door is shutting behind him and leaving her on the rooftop alone.