Logs:Foundation

Foundation
Dramatis Personae Hive, Polaris
In Absentia DJ, Dawson, Wendy	2022-04-14 "Do I need to make a bigger house?"
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 afternoon crowd has thinned and the dinner crowd not yet trickled when Polaris hangs up her apron and invites herself to Hive's table. She's wearing a fitted red t-shirt featuring the Colonial Seal ringed by the sigils of the Lords of Kobol, black jeans, and, as usual, a plethora of steel accessories. Her long hair is braided and hangs over one shoulder, her makeup metallic purple, and her nails just plain matte black. Her internal monologue has been rapid if not unmanageably so, sometimes quiet and sometimes less so. << -- has he eaten anything recently should I offer him something Jesus fucking Christ Lorna you're not working anymore oh shit there's that guy thank God I'm off the clock -- >> She sets a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup down in front of her alongside a huge mug of shockingly pink...coffee? "How's it coming along?" This presumably in reference to Hive's current project. Hive hasn't eaten, in fact; in front of him there's just a still mostly-full mug of coffee alongside his computer. He looks bland in jeans and his 'ceci n'est pas une lune' tee, hair pulled back into a nub of a ponytail and stubble on his chin. "Hrgnh." He doesn't look up from his screen as Polaris takes her seat, just glaring at the house taking shape there."Come along better if I knew where this place was going. House in this neighborhood gonna look much different than one out in Westchester or -- fuck, Staten Island. Dunno where that motherfucker plans to settle down, though." "You want soup? It's good soup you should have some." Polaris doesn't wait for an answer, just slides the bowl over. "What, doesn't he have an opinion? Could always throw a dart at a map." << How rich is he does he even know probably not "buy a whole block in Chelsea" rich >> She ignores her food in favor of the absurdly colored coffee. "I think you can safely nix Staten Island. How about Riverdale?" Her brows furrow and she sets the mug back down as she considers more in concept than words the scale of DJ's home teaching now. "Wait...I dunno. Most of the pilgrims are humans, which like, they're allowed to visit Freaktown, but there's just more and more of them all the time. I think he's single-handedly making a hospitality industry boom here." "He's pretty fucking rich. I don't think he's fully grokked it, yet." Hive scowls at the bowl when it's pushed into his orbit, his lip curling in reflexive distaste. This doesn't stop him from nudging his laptop aside and taking a spoonful of soup instead. "Not Freaktown," is decisive, "not gonna invite a stream of flatscans there, he's not an asshole. I actually don't know about nixing Staten Island, he visits there like -- all the fucking time. Might be fitting. Anyway there's several blocks there going for dirt these days." His scowl has only deepened with this thought. "North Astoria's nice. Lots of space for -- goat." His brows furrow in thought, eyes flicking to his half-done drawing. "Hospitality boom? Do I need to make a bigger house?" Polaris does not actually smile when Hive starts in--however reluctantly--on the soup, but her faint flutter of delight fills the same space. "In fairness to him, being rich seems pretty incomprehensible." << Shit, not being poor seems pretty incomprehensible, and I grew up middle class! >> Her mouth pulls to one side as she considers her vague impressions of Staten Island, almost all through car windows. "Legit. Like everyone says there's nothing to see in Staten Island, but any house you actually get to design to your standards would definitely be worth seeing." She does quirk a small smile even as she obscures the thought behind it, hasty and artless but moderately effective. "But I mean. So's the dude who's gonna be living in it!" The question brings her up short as she mentally considers the growing community of disillusioned Mormons turning to DJ's radical theology. << Like reviving law of consecration. >> "I think if he had the space he'd be down to house brothers and sisters who've traveled here to learn." Hive glances up towards Polaris, his brows briefly hitching at the small flutter of delight. His shoulders tighten as he takes another mouthful of soup. "All I knew was poor till Dawson helped me..." He trails off, his brows knitting. "Still hard to remember sometimes I don't have to scrimp. Actual rich would be a whole other level of boggling." He swirls the spoon slowly through the soup, looking down at it and contemplating another mouthful but ultimately pushing it back toward Polaris. "People are really making fucking. Pilgrimages?" Polaris looks down into her coffee, her actual embarrassment quite mild though the blush shows easily on pale, pale skin. << Just glad when I can cajole you into eating is all. >> The irony that she has not, herself, touched any of the food is apparently lost on her. "If you ever want help buying shit you don't need, that's definitely a service I can provide." << Might be a bit less poor if I just handed my finances to Wendy every time I'm manic. >> She glances at the soup when it's returned to her, unfussed, though she's still nursing the coffee alone. "I guess it depends on how you define 'pilgrimage', but like people are traveling here specifically to learn from DJ, so." One of her shoulders hitches up. "Kinda? Some are even starting to stick around." << S'your soup, you should eat it. >> Hive's mental voice is a gruff and heavy thump pounding into Polaris's head. "What shit do you want to buy? If it's not like a -- car or a yacht I can probably swing it." He drops his chin into a palm, his other hand curling around his cold mug of coffee. He pulls it close, grimaces down into it. "Shit. Dunno if I got the chops for building New fucking Zion." Polaris puts her coffee down. << I got like, a whole sandwich here too. I eat plenty. >> Then, perhaps finally catching onto the irony, she picks up half of the grilled cheese and takes too large a bite to demonstrate her point. At least the literal chewing gives her time to figuratively chew the question over. << Shit, what do I want to buy? >> Her mind riffles through playful nonsense ideas before moving onto some half-serious ones. "Motorcycle? Magnetic ruby? A modest wardrobe that looks cute on me?" She chuckles, embarrassed again. "Maybe caring so much about 'looking cute' isn't very modest, but it's like I got work clothes and church clothes and not much in between that isn't uh...scandalous?" She looks down at her Battlestar Galactica tee and punky accessories, eyes lingering with a rush of fleeting incoherent emotions on the steel link cuffs recently added to her repertoire. When her eyes lift back up to Hive, they're wide with sincerity and wonder. "If we do build New Zion ( << --gotta workshop that name, too-- >> ), it'll take more than brick and mortar. But I'm sure you have the chops to build DJ a home for a more expansive kind of family than what we've been sold." The hope in her voice is not affected, but beneath it there is also anger and weariness and a longing so deep it's physically painful. "The fuck is a magnetic ruby, did you just make that shit up?" There's an open wonder in Hive's tone. He pulls his computer closer, his eyes growing slightly wider after a quick google search. "Magnets, damn. How do they work?" His head is shaking slowly. He's still investigating Magnetic Rubies, not really looking up from the screen when he adds, "Yeah sure, you want a shopping spree? Let's do it. Fuck knows I haven't been doing shit with my money lately." Only now does he look up, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Well, Allred Group is taken already. You think running a cult is like, in the genes?" Despite his flip statement, there's a heavy melancholy in his expression. << family, >> echoes a little quieter in Polaris's mind. << Yeah. >> "I know right? Magnetism is frakkin wild." Polaris flashes a bright smile, feeling more at ease than she has in some time. "Some day, I'll be able to make up total nonsense about magnets and you'll just be like 'that sounds wack, but sure why not'." She blinks, dark green eyebrows lifting slightly. "Whoa seriously?" << Why am I even surprised he's fucking amazing >> "That would be awesome! And like..." << ...no shade, but you could probably use some new clothes, too. >> She sets the coffee aside and pulls the soup back to dip a corner of her grilled cheese in it. "It's not like I need magnetic gemstones or new clothes but..." She can't figure out where where that sentence is going and settles on, "...thank you." Her head tips back slightly as she blinks her eyes clear. << (my family) >> doesn't echo Hive's thought so much as parallel it, laden with dimensions too complex to easily decipher off-hand. "Well. I dunno about cults, but I do think building community is in the genes." "Gonna be honest, you could tell me total nonsense about magnets right the hell now and I'd believe it." A frown flits across Hive's face. He plucks lightly at the front of his tee, looking down at his clothes, old and well-worn. "Mngh," is vague and slightly disgruntled. He re-gruntles himself with a small shake of his head. << ... think those genes skipped an egg. >> He pulls his computer closer again, opening his blueprints back up. "Alright, then. A whole-ass community."