Logs:Just a Couple of Fun Guys

Just a Couple of Fun Guys
Dramatis Personae Cyan, Ryan
In Absentia Anahita, Jax, Lucien	2025-01-03 "Waaaait, you telling me I could be some kinda mushroom early adopter. In on the ground floor before the rest of this hotel catches on? I'm so there take me to the fungi."
Location <NYC> Le Carrefour, Le Bonne Entente - Astoria, Queens
Above the bustle of the clerestory restaurant, tucked at the base of the bell tower, this indoor garden and library is out of the way and easily overlooked, sure to become a favored "hidden gem" of travel guides. Low bookshelves full of mythology, fairy tales, and folklore ring the central elevator shaft and the stairway spiraling around it like an easily navigable labyrinth. Beyond these are plants in a variety of tastefully whimsical containers, each with its own engraved plaque giving the common name, the scientific name, and their significance to various traditional stories and practices. The walls have been done away with so that the room extends beyond the doric columns into a surreal rooftop garden enclosed with glass stretching between the tower's massive buttresses. The arrangement of plantlife becomes less formal as one moves out into the four arms of the conservatory, visible containers giving way to beds and terraces and eventually landscapes carefully cultivated to look wild. There is plentiful seating scattered along the paths and just off of them, from proper benches to picturesque logs to surprisingly comfortable boulders. By day, myriad butterflies dance amongst the enchanted vegetation, and likewise moths by night. A shallow stream weaves throughout, feeding ponds that host plants of their own alongside fish, frogs, and turtles. Wandering the outer edges of the conservatory, one could almost feel lost in a mystical forest but for the stunning views of the cityscape beyond the glass. A little bit out of the way from the most well-travelled paths a pile of laundry is crouched down, staring intently at something half-way under a bush. Completely lost in his own little world, Cyan is studying a small cluster of unassuming tiny brown mushrooms, giving off the vibe of someone who just found something utterly fascinating in an unexpected place. He’s wearing his usual black hoodie, his shoulder blades hinted at through the thin worn fabric as he bends down, completely oblivious to what he might look like to an errant observer. Both the knees of his black cargo pants and his rather heavy boots have patches of dirt on them, and as his head goes down only inches away from being parallel to the ground he softly hums the intro part of Heather’s Fight for Me. By all rights, Ryan should be making a lot of noise coming through the conservatory. Clunky crutches, clunky boots, his gait a heavy and uneven drag, a mesh bag with takeout from the cafe downstairs swinging and clunking awkwardly against one crutch as he moves. Despite this he is making no noise, a small pocket of silence around him that -- is probably not intended to have him kind of Sneaking Up, this far into the winding conservatory paths he was simply not expecting another person. He's bright today, teal-gold duochrome button-up shirt with a flamboyant spread collar and upturned cuffs, black wide-legged black trousers heavy with gold-tone hardware over heavy New Rock boots integrated with his leg braces. He's stopping, at least, a polite-enough distance from Cyan. The silence around him melts back into a normal background-level of Another Person's Existence -- the soft rustle of his bag, the small clearing of his throat. After these lower-key announcements of his presence, he's venturing a hopeful: "Oh hey, Cyan?" His head is tipping slightly downward in mild but unconscious echo of Cyan, little though he can see the mushrooms from here. "-- you find something cool?" There’s a twitch to Cyan’s back, a sense of nerves running through him like a whirlwind, before he suddenly jumps upright, spinning to face Ryan. “Oh hi Mister Bl-I mean Ryan.” He tries wiping the dirt off his pants only to add to it instead, as his gloves are also covered in the stuff. “I wasn’t-” he stops, looking back to the little patch of mushrooms, then back to Ryan. An intense sense of awkwardness giving way to unbridled enthusiasm. “It’s so cool!” in a flash he gets so high up on his toes that he seems to almost achieve lift-off. “I don’t remember exactly what they’re called, but-” he motions at the little patch of brown, “-they contain cyclosporin!” He grins, the masks on his face -- even they have a light coating of dirt -- being pulled along, as waves of giddy joy waft off him. The enthusiasm, the joy, are somewhat literally infectious to the empath. Ryan had been looking a bit exhausted, a long-day/too-much-standing drag to him, but as Cyan speaks it seems to almost visibly lift away. His posture straightens, his expression brightening, and in his own voice there's a quiet echo of that excitement. "-- Thought you checked out, s'good to see you around." He's setting his bag on a nearby rock and clumping over closer so that he can peer downwards -- though with the mushrooms half-obscured by the bush this is clearly going to require a little bit more of an operation. Still, after a very brief consideration he is deciding that it is worth it; propping one crutch against a nearby tree and pressing his hand instead to the tree itself as he sinks slow and ungainly down to the ground. "-- Wait what's cyclosporin." “Oh I did, turns out they don’t actually stop you from getting back in as long as you don’t cause any trouble.” there’s a slight twitch to Cyan as he talks, a sense of fear as he takes a look around, checking for anyone paying extra attention. “Cyclosporin is an immune suppressant.” The switch in topics is accompanied by a similar switch in mood, focus radiates off him, and a small tinge of worry as he watches Ryan get down, “do you want a hand? If you do let me know.” He turns back to the mushrooms, pushing a branch away so Ryan can get a better look. “They use them in medication to keep people’s immune systems from rejecting transplanted organs. And for other stuff, if they are what I think they are...” Insecurity seeps in, “...it’s real hard to identify mushrooms you know?” "I'm good. Might need one getting back up, though, I got real excited about the mushrooms and did not think this through. Pretty regular failing of mine." Ryan doesn't sound upset; there's still an easy delight rippling off him as he leans in to study the little brown guys, heedless of the dirt now streaking own against the previously neat black of his trousers. He's still got a tight hold on one crutch, arm lifted upwards to its handhold now, the shaft kind of half-buttressing him where he is sitting. "-- Oh, I know. My -- uh, Jax's dad is always trying to teach me but mostly just to find the edible ones? I do not have the confidence, getting high would be one thing but some of them make you dead-dead. They're wild little guys though, and mad helpful, apparently?" He is now addressing the tiny brown mushrooms rather than Cyan: "-- I respect that you're staying humble down there." “Oh these will definitely murder you if you just eat them, “ Cyan is equally as excited about this, maybe even more, as he would be if he was talking about some gourmet-type mushrooms. “But yeah, mushrooms are real cool, life on earth wouldn’t be possible without them, nothing would rot, just kind of linger around, “ he sits down next to Ryan, still giddy, but punctuated by an undertone of dead-set seriousness, “in some ways you can say mushrooms is practical provable reincarnation, taking dead thing and turning them into new life.” He lies his head down next to the mushrooms, staring at them as his all-too-big pupils shimmer with a blueish hue. “I did find some real magic mushrooms, “ he says this softly, still not taking his eyes off the ones he’s watching, but patting one of his pockets. “I’m sure Mr. Lucien won’t be too upset with me for taking them off his hands.” Mischief is trickling into his tone now, giddy and full of bad ideas. "I'll stick to the cafe lunch then, huh?" Ryan is reaching out to poke a finger very lightly at one of the tiny mushroomcaps. "Known a couple people who died and came back but we had a lotta outside assistance. How do mushrooms do it?" He rocks slightly into a tippier lean against his crutch, his eyes tracking to Cyan's pocket. "Quick as mushrooms come and go sometimes, would he even notice? Probably real protective of the plants, though, but their life cycle is -- a little different." “Oh I wouldn’t ever touch the plants!” Cyan sits up rather rapidly, “Anahita might get upset...” He adds, a lot more carefully, just the idea of Anahita being even a little bit disappointed in him is gut-churning. “Besides, I’m not taking anything anyone planted on purpose,” he shrugs. For a moment he simply watches Ryan, curiosity wafting off him and maybe a hint of something sad, before his eyes suddenly light up. “I dunno how mushrooms do the things they do, despite what some people think I’m not actually one, but!” He grins now, standing up, “I can show you some really cool ones, if you’re interested? The not-deadly-variety!” The giddy enthusiasm is back, as he does a little jump then crouches down next to Ryan again, whispering conspiratorially “I don’t think anyone else has seen these yet.” "I mean, from what you're saying it sounds like we're all at least a little bit mushroom. Descendants of the ur-mushrooms who helped grow the planet up." Ryan's Very Scientific Assessment comes cheerfully, but some of his cheer is fading after this. His fingers tighten on his crutch, his brows knitting. His first determined attempt to pull himself back up against his crutch seems like it might end in disaster, the single crutch slipping slightly sideways, but then he relents and (with a very faint flush of pink through his cheeks) holds a hand out in quiet supplication to Cyan. For all this his embarrassment hasn't leeched the enthusiasm from his voice, empathic signature fluttering with a warm delight. "Waaaait, you telling me I could be some kinda mushroom early adopter. In on the ground floor before the rest of this hotel catches on? I'm so there take me to the fungi." Making sure his gloves are securely on and there’s no cracks between them and his sleeves, Cyan takes Ryan’s hand and helps him up. He doesn’t know why it makes his face feel warm, but he is grateful for the facemasks and the grey skin making any such outward signs hard to spot. “Oh yeah! Mushrooms are genetically more similar to people than they are to plants.” He gushes, the enthusiasm over his favorite topic efficiently washing away anything else. As he heads down to one of the winding paths he makes sure to stay close enough to Ryan that he can simply grab him, but not so close that it’s obvious he’s looking out for him. A warm sense of fondness and a little bit of pride is tingling off his voice as he speaks, “oh yeah, the second person after me to see these, they look cool during the day time, but at night, oh man you really should see them when it’s dark, they glow!” "Thanks," still has a very faint trace of flustered embarrassment in it, but there's no further hesitation, at least, when Ryan clasps Cyan's gloved hand. His blush, regrettably easier to note, has lingered until he has retrieved his other crutch and is properly situated to hold himself up. "Glow? You're kidding me, that sounds amazing, what makes them glow, do they -- wait, how long we got till dark, you want to have a fucking -- mushroom party tonight? Not like the last party!" he's quick to add with a laugh. "Just like. I'll make some dinner and we can look at the glowing -- wait," now his voice is dropping low, as if this is truly a clandestine arrangement, "-- am I allowed to tell anyone else, Jax would be psyched if you told him about these fairy-ass mushrooms. Plus, his mushroom stroganoff is to die for." There’s a lightness in Cyan’s step that only seems to get lighter as Ryan talks. “It’s a chemical reaction between oxyluciferin, luciferase and oxygen, basically the same thing fireflies do.” There’s a small pause as he quietly mouths the word luciferase to himself, before turning around, walking backwards so he can look at Ryan while talking. “Some hours at least, if you can get them to not kick me out I don’t mind if you invite the fucking pope.” he grins, radiating a sense of pure joy. “I’d love to see it, I mean, the mushrooms and the stroganoff too!” Stumbling for a brief second he catches himself, managing to stay on his feet but only barely, a sense of embarrassment coming through as he remembers the last time he saw Jax. “Erhm, like, that guy, Jax, he’s not like...upset or anything, right?” "Upset about what?" Ryan's perplexity here sounds entirely genuine, but it's hard for him to hold onto it in the face of his curiosity: "Firefly-mushrooms? Shit, we're definitely having a party. -- Anyway Luci doesn't kick people out just for being poor, only for being assholes. If you get stressed about there's plenty of place to hang out in our suite till then --" Here, his grin is brighter, mischievous. "If you can remember enough of that night to remember which room I was in." Cyan nods, Lucien is not as bad as he had initially expected this is true, he should probably apologize to him at some point. There’s a flutter of a number of emotions in his voice as he speaks, “it’s just people here-” pain, fear and loneliness suddenly goes off in him like a flashbang, though on the outside he remains calm, “-they remind me of my mother, so I keep expecting the worst.” He shrugs, the emotions still lingering, but rapidly being pushed down into the mental drawer he keeps that stuff locked away in. “I remember well enough, it just seemed like err Mr. Jax was a tad upset when I left.” He pauses, trying to recall the muffled memories, then shrugs, “I dunno, I don’t know him, if you say it’s good it’s good.” There is trust in his last sentence, confidence that Ryan won’t lead him astray. Mimicking Ryan's mischievous tone he grins "let's have a party."