Logs:Starting Over

Starting Over
Dramatis Personae DJ, Samuel
In Absentia Marinov, Bryce, Dallen	2025-01-06 "Of ccccccoursssssse. I'm ssssssure you're the expert here."
Location <NYC> The Refuge - Staten Island
The swath of destruction that the dimensional anomaly carved here in 2020 has been swept away and transformed into a large compound, practically a neighborhood in its own right. Much of the grounds are given over to meticulously landscaped parkland. Here are manicured gardens abutting half-wild groves, playgrounds and playing fields, a swimming pool as well as a fishing pond, and even a few acres of farmland. The residences, from the founder's house to the miniature arcologies and the slightly larger guesthouse, are styled like abstract beehives. So, for that matter, is the vertical hydroponic farm that produces far more food than the earthbound fields. In fact, there is a great deal of beehive imagery throughout, and even absent specific styling, hexagons are still more common than squares or rectangles in the construction of spaces and objects, all of which are thoughtfully designed with an eye toward community and comfort. At the heart of the Refuge is the meetinghouse that crowns the hill where the 121st Precinct once stood: architecturally distinct from most LDS houses of worship, this one looks from afar like an abstract sculpture of a conch shell in gleaming white quartzite. The floor plan is built on a Fibonacci spiral with a relatively gentle rise in elevation for the first four quarter-arcs before shooting up into a steep organic spire that can be seen for miles around. Within one of the reading rooms of the refuge, a snake man finds himself alone with the books. The room's been empty for about 10 minutes, and if you were to look into this room with your x-ray vision or something, you'd see an incredible sight: Sammy being melodramatic. "Oh Devlin, fair Devlin! You can't go! You musssssn't fight the king! He wieldssssss a great blade, which would surely pierce your beautiful ssssssscaly hide!" He speaks in a girly voice, dramatically swinging his head around. Then he slithers over to the left a little, and does a serious voice. "My dearesssssst Morgan, I have no choice! Though I am cursssssed to have the appearance of a dragon, under thesssssse sssssscalesssss and massssssive absssss beatsssss the heart of a hero! I musssst ssssstop the mad king, even if it cossssstsssss me my life!" Back to the princess voice. "But Devlin, you're the only one who sssssseesssss me asssss i truly am! Not a trophy, but a woman! I couldn't bear to lossssssse a man assssss beautiful and kind and funny and sssssmart asssss you!" Now doing the knight voice, he grabs the chin of the non existent princess and puts on the charming eyes. "I know...it'ssssss hard, leaving you to face a fate that may be misssssserable and horrid. But I have a duty....no, a ressssssponssssibility. I may not have chossssssen to become a dragon, but I did choossssse the mantle of the red knight, and I mussssssst defend thisssss land from that madman!" Pulling the invisible person in. "But firsssssst, I leave you with a kisssssss. And I'll do the resssssst laaaaaa...." Samuel freezes like a deer in headlights when he hears footsteps. There's a quiet knock at the door -- whoever is outside does not actually wait for answer, the knock more of an announcement than a request. DJ is pushing the door open directly afterward, leaving it a little ajar behind him once hes entered. He is looking, as he usually does, aggressively generic -- dark corduroys, a cream cable-knit sweater over his button-down. His left arm is very noticeably a prosthetic, one that is not making much attempt to look Realistic, painted up brightly in a blue-black-grey patterning that looks like a strikingly realistic bluejay feathering pattern. "I'm so sorry," he volunteers quiet, though his small smile is warm, "am I -- interrupting?" Samuel immediately feels as though he'd be better off dropping dead right here and now. He just blinks slowly, before slowwwwwwwwly propping himself upright to stare at DJ. "Um. No, no, it'sssssss. It'ssssss totally fine. I wasssssss...bassssssically done." He looks at dj, unsure what to say. "What brings you here?" DJ nods, head tipping towards Samuel. "I came to check in on you. I know it can be a lot around here, I want to make sure people are -- settling." His biological hand wraps behind his back, fingers closing against his prosthetic arm. "I -- shouldn't have interrupted, sorry. It just sounded like you were having fun." He fidgets with his hands. "I...wasssssss, to be frank. It'ssssss, uh, not the ssssort of fun I like to have in public." Wait, that kind of sounds like he's- "AH. Not that kind of fun, of courssssse! I just, uh...well, it'ssssss the sssssssort of thing I'm sssssself conssssscious of. Acting out a part from a movie I like." Sammy's neck slumps a bit. "I've...uh...yeah. I appreciate the bed I've gotten to sssssssleep in here." DJ's eyes have gone just the faintest bit wider at the first half of Samuel's explanation, but this is fading away into a quiet laugh. "Right, right. Hey, we've all got our things, right? Don't worry, I didn't hear much." He shifts slightly -- toward the doorframe as if he is going to lean against it, though he does not, his posture very upright. "I'm just glad we could help. From what my siblings have said, things have been... not really at a great place for you. -- Oh! How'd it go with Marinov yesterday?" Sammy's tail wraps around himself. "Haha...yeahhhhh don't go sssssspreadin that around, I'm not ready to be a laughingssssstock around here." Once he conquers the nerves, he begins slithering forward, his posture looking considerably more serpentine then when he arrived here. It's like he's starting to relax into himself. "It'ssssss been a big adjussssssstment. Having a warm and toasssssty building hassss helped, even if getting adjusssssted isssss trial and error." Then he perks up at the mention of his feline friend. "It went great! I really like their perssssssonality, and they were easssssy to sssssspeak to! Never thought I'd meet another perssssson who could appreciate kamen rider. I'm also really excited about getting to have clothessssss that fit me again, I've been having to brute force sssssstuff into fitting me all the time..." "We've got our fair share of thespians around here, I don't think you'd be a laughingstock. I think a lot of people like stepping out of themselves here and there -- entertaining others -- getting to be a little dramatic." DJ looks just a little brighter when Samuel perks up. "Marinov's pretty great -- I'm really glad it went well. Hopefully a little closer to letting you enjoy some more of this city. I mean, I happen to think this place --" He gestures around them, "is great, but it can't be fun to be cooped up in it, right?" Samuel bites his tongue on the full "It's nice but a little strongly religious for where I am rn" bit. "Hah...I dunno if you remember, but I mentioned I had dreamssssss of being a movie sssssstar. I'm a bit reluctant to totally let go of that ssssssort of thing, sssssso I....indulge in performance on the sssssside. For fun." He flops forward, coiling and twisting so that he's basically backwards, but leaning back so that his head's still facing DJ. "I'm REALLY looking forward to getting sssssstuff that letsssss me function in winter again...I ussssssed to love playing in ssssssnow, and that asssssside, I want to ssssssee the city when I'm not practically dying in it." "I'm really sorry about how that turned out. Glad you can find some way to still hang on to something you loved, but --" DJ hitches one shoulder up in a shrug. His eyes are shifting, head turning slightly to the side as he tracks Samuel's serpentine motions. "...Yeah, dying does take a lot of the fun out of things." He sounds quite serious when he says this. "You have any ideas what you'll do first, once you can get out and around a little easier?" He crosses his arms, coiling himself and leaning back upright and normally. It looks like he's been trying to get used to himself... "...I want to find a new place to live, a place I can reliably call my own. Thissssss place issssss nice, but I would like a place all my own, y'know? Tying into that, I need a job...and I have like, zero idea what to do there. I'd love to jusssssst get an acting gig, but I doubt itsssss that sssssimple or can pay the billsssssss for me." DJ is listening intently while Samuel speaks. His smile is easing away into just a thoughtful contemplation, one that stretches into a few beats of silence before he ventures his careful reply. "I think that's a pretty normal thing to want," her offers, somewhat reserved. "And we can try and help connect you to people, resources who can point you in the right direction. I think --" Here there's another small pause. "-- What is that brought you to New York?" He sounds just a touch apologetic here, but only a small bit. "I'm not sure how feasible place of your own will be here, -- it'll be nearly impossible to manage around here without living with others, but there's other parts of the country where it could be a little more feasible to not have to find roommates. That would be a tradeoff, though, other parts of the country might -- be more affordable, but they'll have fewer opportunities for mutants or actors." He's studying Samuel another moment before he adds, very frank: "I don't know many actors starting out here who can afford a place of their own, with or without secondary jobs, but -- unfortunately, given your mutation, I don't think acting is very likely to viably support you even in the long run. I do know people in the field I can ask, but I think you should be prepared -- it's very likely that if you try to get into that kind of work, the few roles you'll be offered are not going to be very positive representation. What you're comfortable with in that respect is a decision you'll have to make for yourself, but I think either way it'll be good to look into job prospects that will be more -- stable." “…To be honessssst? Nothing in particular. I jusssst…I ran away from home and then…I kind of jusssst kept going. I’m from new jerssssssey, for the reccccord.” Samuel coughs for a moment as DJ progressively lays the facts on him. He looks…a little saddened to really have to think about the facts of life like this. “…I guessssss sssssharing a place wouldn’t be the worssssst thing, ssssso long as the people I live with are good to me. I…” And he just trails off. “I don’t want to run away more. I’d like to sssstick with here if I ccccan, I jusssst….” His head hangs low and he sighs. “…..Man. I really don’t want to work fassssssst food for the ressssssst of my life.” "I'm sorry," DJ says, and it sounds like he means it. "This -- can't be how you expected your life to turn out at all, and that's a really hard adjustment. I have to be honest, I don't really know what your future prospects might look like -- what you're going through is different than anything I've had to face. But I do know a lot of people in the community, and I really do hope that with some help, you can figure out -- a life that works for you. Even if it's not quite the one you dreamed of -- maybe we can give you some breathing room to find new dreams." His head has bowed slightly, and he lets go of his arm, hand releasing to turn up in a small shrug. "I know my folks aren't exactly everyone's taste, but you'll have a safe roof here, while you find your --" His mouth twitches, slightly upward as his eyes dart to Samuel's tail. "-- bearings." "...Yeah. My bearingsssss." He says that quietly, and while none of that's directed at DJ in particular, a certain flavor of...venomous frustration can be heard in that one. "I'm breaking in my bearingsssss, that much issssss for sssssssure. It'ssssss difficult, but each day I think it becomesssss more natural to ussssse. Assssss for dreamssssss..." Samuel tries to find a statement in himself. Some defiant assertion that he will make his dreams come true, come hell or high water. But...the frustration he feels isn't greater then that slow crushing feeling inside himself. ".....I don't know. i've...it makessssss me feel cccccomplete. It'sssss like, what I was born for. How can I jusssssst...tosssssss it?" If the venom bothers DJ, it doesn't show; his face just retains a certain thoughtful calm. "It can be really hard to start over," he answers quietly. "I wish there was a hopeful but there. It might take a long time to figure out what you want your life to be now, and it might be hard for a while. I think figure out the how just kind of comes one decision at a time." Samuel just looks at DJ. ``What the hell do YOU know about starting over???`` Of course, he doesn't say it. But he's thinking it aggressively. "...You're right. Of ccccccoursssssse. I'm ssssssure you're the expert here." He turns around. "I'll jussssst figure it all out. I have to, of ccccccourssssse. Jusssst ssssstart all over, haha. Easssssy. Totally easssssy." The bitterness is barely kept lidded. "I've got lotssssss of time to figure it out. I'll....there'ssss ssssssomething. There hasssss to be ssssssomething only I can do." Samuel can almost feel the poison in his throat, the stuff he salivates, the stuff his life is. Totally, irreversibly, really poisoned forever. It's really hitting now. He'd been kidding himself before, thinking maybe he could still pull something off. Some bullshit success story. But that's not how the world works, is it? Not for freaks like him. He's spiraling. Suddenly its hard to keep his balance. He doesn't want to admit he's having a panic attack but it's all coming so fast DJ doesn't blink. "I think I just said it isn't." His voice is very mild. He wraps his hand back behind his back, eyes tipping for just a moment up to the ceiling. "If you're talking about work, there's nothing that only you can do. Workers are always going to be interchangeable, to a degree. Being part of a community is really the only place we get where we -- not just what we can do for people, but us -- are irreplaceable. But --" He lifts his shoulder, looking back to Samuel. His eyes have, just faintly, narrowed as Samuel wobbles. There's a flutter -- it's very brief, but for a moment he has vanished, blurring out of existence -- barely any time later he's returned, with a large and very comfortable beanbag in tow that he places behind the unsteady snake-man. He's back by the doorway an instant later, as if he'd never moved: "-- That's always something you'll have to figure out for yourself." He flops onto the beanbag and just shoves his face into it for a bit. Sammy's never really asked about the HOW of DJ's power, and right now he couldn't care less. He's just...it's so...its like all his worst emotions are just spiking and its hard to keep some composure here. Part of him is registering he's making an ass of himself. Sammy's screwing this all up. Shut up and think and process. "..." After a minute of breathing into a beanbag, he flops over to look at DJ again, sticking his head upright. "...Sssssssssssorry. Ssssssorry all I do is whine. I need to be better about thisssss sssssssort of thing." Hopefully Samuel is not looking for some kind of padding in response to this, because all DJ replies, simply, is: "Yes. You do." He's folded his hand behind his back again, gripping absently above his mechanical elbow. "Nearly every person who comes to this place comes because their homes have rejected them. Made them unwelcome, abused them, kicked them out. I have sympathy for it, I do. A lot. It's hard to lose your home, and your life, and what you had hoped for. But it doesn't excuse you being snippy and mean to people who had nothing to do with it. I know you look down on us. Maybe we're too annoying, too cheerful, too -- fluffy puppy for you. But you really could stand to learn a thing or two from my congregation about how to treat others, even when you're having a tough time." Unlike Samuel, there's no venom at all in his voice -- just a quiet steadiness. "And you really should start doing some chores." Samuel’s fucking STUNNED into silence. “I. Wh-I, I…” His pupils just shrink and his jaw drops. “…” Samuel doesn’t have any sort of response for this. He wasn’t expecting this thread of conversation at all. “…I know how to be nice. I’m not obliviousssss. I….” He just slumped back into the beanbag. “…..” And he sort of just gives up. He’s fucked everything up here already. He’ll be thrown in the dumpster by next week. “Okay. I’ll take the trassssssh out.” "Good," DJ replies, evenly. "I'm really glad to hear that. Hopefully we'll see you at dinner." He lifts his chin in farewell, and slips back out. The regular way, on foot this time. There's not much noise when he returns soon after -- just a very brief and barely-there blur of motion, that sets a small bowl of chips & salsa and a soda down quietly beside Samuel's beanbag and is gone. The door closes quietly behind him. Samuel just stares at the bowl for a bit before grabbing at a chip. “…’m not a total assssshole. Jussssst ssssick of it being my job to be nice.” He crunches into the chips a few times, just sort of staring at the bowl. “……Fuck me, man. If kid me saw me now, he’d probably kill himssssself.” And he just sits alone on the floor.