(Placeholder) (angelheaded) wrote in gangs_of_nyx, @ 2008-12-02 22:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel, zero g |
Meanwhile...
Characters: Warren "Angel" Worthington and Alex "Zero G" Power
NPCs: --
Location: On the fire escape of Storm's apartment building
Time: [backdated] November 30, 1977 - afternoon, same time as the Broho meeting
Description: Philosophizin' and pot smokin'.
Rating: PG-13
Warren was worried the first night he had stayed with the woman known as Storm. Or he would have been had he been more lucid and remembered his manners. But as it were, he was half-crazed from sleep deprivation, starved and beaten with in an inch of his life when he was found. The Brotherhood had gotten word of Warren's arrival into District X just like everyone else had - the local paper. The Bugle had reported the appearance of a strange man with an angel-like appearance, the fundamentalist right-wing nut jobs that actually believed him to be an angel and then the subsequent attack by the FoH. They left Warren crucified outside of a church and what the paper didn't report was that the man was a boy no more than twenty years old.
The Brotherhood was furious. At that point it was pretty clear that the man was a mutant and by right was entitled to the protection of the gang. Magneto was about to place a call to his best gal, Rogue, when X suggested that maybe Storm's apartment would be a better place for someone in Warren's condition to stay than the XQ. Erik eventually conceded, things like heat could be important.
When Warren first woke up, his olfactory senses were greeted by the smells of cinnamon and incense and the vague musk of pot. He had been placed in a spare room just off the utility room, with two windows and a radiator. It was the smallest bedroom of the three. He found that it was cozy. Someone, Ororo herself perhaps, had created a makeshift hammock for him to rest in. It was someone who had a keen attention to detail because when he woke his wings weren't cramped at all, not like they would be from sleeping in a regular bed. The rest of the apartment, like its owner, was lovely. The woman had a smile that could calm the most torrential rains and beautiful skin to boot. Warren could just sense and aura around her that seemed to warm him right up. It was that or the broth she had cooked him.
The doctor that had visited him prescribed lots of rest and lots of fluids - he had to regain his strength. But by the third day Warren had found he had grown quite bored. He wandered the apartment a little while Ororo was working in her flower shop, only the open living rooms perusing the bookshelves for something to read. It didn't take much for Warren to tire and soon found himself resting in his hammock with a copy of Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" slipping out of his hands as he drifted to sleep in the afternoon sun.
An hour later he woke with a start, the book clattering to the floor. It took him a moment to fully wake up and realize he was in a safe place. His nerves were shot and he was jonesing for a smoke. Swiping the tobacco and papers off a small stack of books in the corner, Warren made quick work of rolling a cigarette. He disentangled himself from the hammock and opened the window, gingerly stepping out on the fire escape. His side was wrapped up tight with gauze and still hurting something fierce, but he managed. Warren held the freshly made cigarette to his lips, an errant piece of tobacco clinging to his tongue as he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply. He exhaled a large puff of smoke that blew out the flicker of flame that was burning away the extra paper at the end. Warren's gaze was focusing in and out of the scene around him and other fire escapes.
It were the off-days that Alex longed for. He couldn't say that he was working for the weekend because his days off were infrequent. No, it was the morning that didn't require Alex to dress up and put on his courier bag that made him most happy. Sometimes? It was the afternoon before - the time when he got off work and knew he wouldn't be called in the next day. There weren't any orders to fulfill, no shaded glances that he needed to avoid. Unfortunately, that also meant to tips to be had, but on the two days he had off a week? Alex could deal with that. After a good, long shower, Alex had put on his sweat pants and the tattered robe that he'd picked up at the Goodwill because of the checkered pattern.
"Let it be, let it be, whisper words of wisdom, let it be." Alex hummed the rest of the chords to the chorus, stepping out of his apartment and lighting the joint he'd wrapped so meticulously. He gazed at the flame from his lighter for just a moment before releasing his finger, the fire disappearing. The sky was dark, but it usually was around Mutant Town. A good day to not work. Music wafted through the open window, Alex knowing that he'd get shit from Jack later on about it. But it was his day off, and Alex felt a little entitlement to enjoy the finer things in his life, even if they weren't so fine to other people.
At the sudden noise above him, Warren glanced upwards. He felt slightly self-conscious about his shirtless physique and the wings, but he let the feeling pass over him. Then there it was. That fragrant sweet aroma of marijuana. Even if he didn't keen senses he still could have determined the scent (and its origin) from the street below. Warren continued to smoke his cigarette but it was too late. His nose twitched slightly as the smoke continued to fall from the fire escape above. It smelled heavenly and Warren had ran out of pot weeks ago!
Leaning over the side slightly he peered upwards attempting to be inconspicuous as he determined who exactly was up there with the grass. "Hey!" he called out. He took a final drag on his cigarette putting it out in a coffee can in the corner, gritting a little because it burned him as he stamped it out. "Um, hey!" Called again. "Are you, um..." Leaning over the edge he pantomimed joint-smoking by pinching his fingers together and holding them to his mouth. "I don't normally...but I was just wondering if you might have some - can I hit that?"
At the noise, Alex instantly became lighter. His gravity field seemed to act like a security blanket, feet lifting off the fire escape and practically throwing him over the side. Grabbing the railing, Alex looked down, eyes wide. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" he murmured like a mantra, trying to right himself and get him back on the other side of the rail his hand was gripping. Luckily, he had enough sense to keep the joint pinched between his fingers. Hopping in midair, Alex was back on the solid grate. Looking down again, he blinked, nodding his head because what else did someone do when one was shouted at?
"Dude, don't do that!" Alex shouted back, blowing on the flagging embers gently, watching the joint's end plume. "Come on up." But then he noticed that the other really wasn't wearing a shirt. Holy shit! Was it a naked guy? Was a naked guy going to come up and smoke his joint? Holy shit. This was totally insane. More importantly - was the guy coming out of Ororo's window? What the hell? "Yeah, sure. Just...here." Alex shrugged out his robe and held it out, the wind picking it up like a flag. "You can put this on." At least Alex had pants, right?
"Woah, hey, be careful, pal," Warren watched with a wary eye at the other's clumsy antics. He didn't really know what he would have done if the the other boy fell to off the fire escape to his death. Warren wasn't in any condition for heroing. Thanks goodness he righted himself - crisis adverted. Now that he had a moment, he didn't think what he had done was so wrong. Warren wasn't being startling, or at least he wasn't trying to be. He was torn from his thoughts and looked at what was being lowered at him. What was that?
"Is that a bath towel?" That was certainly...odd. Put that on? "Wait, what? Nah, man, I'm cool on that." Warren shook his and waved him off, but agreed to join him on the fire escape above. Running his hand along the railing as he climbed the noisy stairs, Warren ascended until he was even with the other boy.
He lifted his chin in greeting and gave a small, "Hey." Now it was clear that Warren wasn't naked but wearing a heavily ripped pair of denim trousers and little else. (Save for the bandage wrapped around his mid-section.) It was also pretty apparent the he had just been in a fight. Warren hurt, but the looks he received from other people always made him feel worse. He canted his head slightly, "You should see the other guy."
"Hardly! It's a bath....robe." Alex found his words pretty much cut off by the sight of the huge set of wings that followed the other out of the window. Alex, one who was never lost for conversation, found himself unable to voice his awe and excitement and....awe. He simply watched as the other worked his way up the fire escape, hitting the joint to see if the wings grew any bigger. They didn't, but Alex felt his head get a little lighter - and not due to his gravity powers.
"You're....pretty," Alex said without thinking, taking another hit and then extending his arm out, still not looking at the guy's face. The only thing he saw was the smooth downward glide of the dusty-white wings. Wow, all Alex wanted to do was touch them. "Yeah, other guy worse off," Alex muttered, figuring that the guy had faced the devil and he had won out - what with the feathered wings and all. "I'm Alex." Saying his own name brought Alex back to the present, looking down and trying not to cringe away from the ghastly sight of the other's face. "Shit man, who did that to you?" Alex didn't really expect an answer, but he'd like one. His hand reached out, almost protectively, until he realized it was the hand holding the joint. Blowing on the end, he held it out. The sick-sweet smell was probably blown right into the angel's face. "Sorry. Here - you probably need it more than I do." He turned his hand around, the unlit end facing those bright blue (and black) eyes. "Take it."
Warren scrunched his face slightly - only slightly, any more and it'd hurt too much. He should be used to being called things like "pretty" by now, but it still took him off guard. He didn't consider his looks to be overtly feminine, except for maybe the long hair, but even that was a stretch. "Uh, thanks, man, I think," he began. "Tha-that was suppose to be a compliment, right?" He was unsure. Warren scrubbed the back of his head, at a loss as to what to say to that, until Alex introduced himself as such. "War-Warren, War for short," his gaze cast downward until he heard the other's exclamation.
Warren looked up. First things first. He clasped the joint between his thumb and index finger, it was still large enough that the exchange didn't require much skill. "Thanks," he muttered right before holding it up to his lips and taking a long drag. He passed it back, holding the smoke in his lungs for a long moment. Warren released the smoke, a long white billowy cloud seeped from his mouth. He didn't cough - he was a pro. "I dunno, really, they told me some gang called the Friends of Humanity." His shoulders lifted upwards into a shrug. The action caused his wings to flutter only slightly. Warren had just moved into the city, about two weeks now, he had been long removed from gang violence out in the suburbs and didn't rightly know who these Friends were, if it would mean anything to Alex or if he should be talking about it in general. It was the latter he decided upon. Besides it kind of made him feel all horrible inside.
"Not to be rude or anything, but can we not talk about it? Its kind of harshin' on my mellow, man."
That was probably the wrong adjective to use, but Alex, when at a loss for words, usually managed to grasp one that conveyed his thoughts, even if it wasn't as astute as he would have liked it to be. "Yeah man, compliment. Sorry. Handsome, debonair, whatever you like," Alex said with a grin. Now he came up with words that showed that he wasn't some drooling fangirl for angels. But angels, in his experience, had always been described as pretty - if not that, then beautiful. Yeah, that would have been a little awkward. "Cool, nice to meet you Warren." Alex figured they weren't one nickname terms just yet. Sharing a joint was one thing, because it was a little more like bonding than passing one another in the halls, but hey, at least Alex had gotten a name.
He was about to give a little backstory from what he knew of the FoH, especially the way Alex had repainted a door several times at the tattoo parlor where he apprenticed, but decided to let it go. Maybe now wasn't the right time. He nodded his head, Alex feeling bad and accepting the joint back. Yeah, no need to talk about stuff that would ruin a high. Or, worse, send either (or both) of them into bad highs. Nothing like that would be good. At all. Ever. "No worries dude, zipped lips and all that." Blowing lightly on the end of the joint, Alex watched the fire bloom before he inhaled again, the coarse, sweet smoke filling his lungs. He held it as well, looking around. Even with his throat, mouth and lungs occupied, Alex's face still remained animated. His eyebrows lifted and fell, blue eyes looking around the area both above, below and around them. Finally, he exhaled, enjoying the sweet smell as the smoke lifted and was blown away. "Want another?" He asked, extending his hand back out, his other rubbing his pocket, making sure he'd brought the tweezers out with him.
Warren held his hand up, "Woah, hey, you don't have to go there." As Alex listed the litany of adjectives, Warren just felt weirder and weirder. He hoped it was the pot making him a chatty-Cathy, but Warren had an inkling Alex was like this all the time. A spaz. He couldn't help himself and his mouth turned upward into a sort of a smile - something he had not done in weeks. It was refreshing to meet someone so friendly in the city. Warren was trying, really he was, he didn't want to become jaded. Worst yet, he didn't want to go back home to his mother and father and admit to them that he couldn't hack it without their help. No way. No fucking way. Warren swallowed and pushed those thoughts from his head.
"Thanks, I appreciate it man. And yeah," he tipped his head, "I'll hit that." He plucked the shrinking joint from Alex's hand and held it to his lips once more. Warren inhaled and held the smoke as he had done before. "That's some good grass," he gave a nod and released. After two hits he was already starting to feel the onsets of a good high. It had been a long time since had been so thoroughly stoned after so little. He knew his eyes were already glassy and rimmed red as his lids drooped. A lazy sort of a grin claimed his features, his expression morphing to surprise when he remembered the rolling tobacco he had.
Slipping the pack from his back pocket he opened it up and tugged out a singular paper. Delicately holding it between his fingers he sprinkled the tobacco and began to twist it up. He rolled it back and forth between his forefinger and thumb with skill and expertise; the end result was a tightly rolled cigarette. Returning the tobacco, he lit the cigarette. Warren didn't necessarily considering himself particularly extrovert (or introvert for that matter) but he always felt more comfortable talking with a cigarette in his hand. He hoped that this Alex and a minute or two to spare for some social chit-chat. Warren, these last few days, had been starved for company. "So, what'd you do man?"
Alex usually enjoyed his highs. He didn't do it every day or anything, but it was like a special treat for him. Obviously he wasn't the stingy type, and he didn't want to have to need it every day. Sometimes the longevity of his time between smoking up and not even made his highs all the more wonderful, potent. He watched Warren masterfully roll his own cigarette, eyes watching the fingers move, the dusting of tobacco going into the thin slip of paper. "Yeah, it's called Sticky Mickey. 'Sgot a picture of the cartoon mouse on it and everything." Warren didn't look to be in any sort of condition to go wandering to get some, so Alex decided to withhold the name of the head shop.
His chest was puffed out as he held in the smoke, quirking his mouth from side to side as if his nose was tickling him. A big puff and the smoke seemed to hang in the air for a moment before dissipating. Not really understanding the question, Alex just shrugged. "I work part time at a tattoo parlor and the other half as a bike courier." He lifted his shirt, exposing some of the tattoo he had on his chest. "It goes over my shoulder and onto my upper arm." Yup, he was pleased and proud of his tattoo, but he didn't let the shirt stay up for too long. No sense in ripping his shirt open with a diamond-hard nip. "Keeps me busy and money to pay rent and stuff...and a little extra here and there." He waved the shortening joint. There was also ice cream in his freezer that he would probably be devouring sometime soon.
Warren's smile grew. Really, the thoughts of a stoned Mickey Mouse caricature really delighted him. That, or Warren was just high and he would have laughed at anything right about now. His eyes widened slightly at the revelation of the encompassing tattoo - he hadn't been expecting that. The design on Alex's chest was a long cry from the stories his father would tell him about drunken sailors with the word "MOTHER" tattooed across their back. A longer looked showed a pleasant space scene. Warren was worried to find some gang insignia or the inscription "Born To Raise Hell" on Alex. For as open and laid back and worldly as he seemed, there was still an air of naivety to the boy from the 'burbs.
"Woah, that's far out!" He exclaimed. "D-did it hurt?" Instinctually he grabbed his own shoulder to ebb out the dull ache of sympathy pains. He took another drag on his cigarette and contemplated something. "Its so weird," he began. "I'm not from around here and its just so ace how many people I've met that like, do things - things that are really groovy. Real things - if that makes sense. Does that make sense? Like my ol' man, right? Real hoity-toity. He'd shit a brick," Warren motioned to Alex's shoulder. He entertained the thought briefly, although Warren decidedly liked not being in pain and could never intentionally cause himself any.
"That always reminds me," Warren paused snagging his thumb beneath his teeth. "Two roads diverged in the wood and I - I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference. Who was that? That was..." he snapped his fingers when it finally came to him. "Robert Frost."
"Dude, totally hurt, but only for a little bit. I mean, I wanted it - I designed it all," Alex said with a bit of pride in his voice, "and I knew going in it wouldn't be like eating a candy bar on a Saturday morning or anything." Yeah, sometimes when Alex was high, he didn't make any sense. Especially when he was high. But eating a candy bar on a Saturday morning was just awesome in and of itself. "But I like it, a lot. It's not like I got some barbed wire on my arm or Mom in a big heart on my arm. I mean, I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but even she said she preferred this to something like that. Trust me, she was ticked when she walked in on me shirtless when I visited home that one time," as if Warren would know which weekend he was talking about, "but after she got over the shock, I think she kind of dug it."
Hitting the joint, his free hand moving to Alex's pocket to find the tweezers. No sense in getting your fingers burned, right? He listened thoughtfully to Warren's words, shrugging his shoulders a little bit. Alex was just...what he was. A fun guy who was probably too open and naive, but could still pack a punch if he had to. Everyone had to be able to do that in a place like this. "Totally makes sense, man. Dunno your Pappy, but people do things that aren't hoity-toity at all. You know how many times I almost got side-swiped by something? Too many to count. And I'm not even gonna get into the other hazards of my job." No one learned about Alex's butt burns when he first started out messengering. Especially not when he had bought the weed. "Gotta stay active, man. Gotta stay in the moment. Fully alive and dealing, loving, hating, zigging, zagging. Totally all the time for every minute." A giggle left his throat as he pinched the tip with the tweezers, taking a hit and motioning toward Warren.
He nodded and gave the other a close-lipped smile. He knew Frost pretty well. He was one of the authors his mother had taught all his siblings about. Point to his mouth, Alex let his hand wave from side to side, unsure. He was offering Warren a shotgun, since it was really the last good toke from the joint. Since he really didn't know the guy, Alex brought his fist up, a tiny hole in the middle of his clenched fingers. More would be lost, but he didn't want to freak Warren out.
Warren smiled at the anecdote Alex decided to share. 'That's...nice...you're mom sounds nice," he remarked with a warm tone that suggested he was genuine. He took to leaning against the railing of the fire escape, resting his forearms on the bar. "Real nice," he said glancing back up and over at the other. Warren would give his left arm for understanding, compassionate parents, but eh...c'est la vivre, non? He didn't have time to dwell on his thoughts as Alex continued talking. Warren's face lit up.
"Yes...yes! That's it. That's exactly it!" he exclaimed becoming more animated. "Carpe diem and all of that. Nah thanks," he waved off the shotgunned hit. He was already sufficiently stoned besides he was on the cusp of having an absolutely brilliant idea. "Like, my parents they don't do anything ever. They just go about their lives and never question anything. They're just so stuck into their routines and their...image and they never do anything creative or good or altruistic or anything, man. I think we're having a more real conversation than they ever had in all their twenty years of marriage." Warren scoffed before taking a final drag of his cigarette. He stamped it out on the railing before letting it fall between the grating to the street below. "They just don't get it," he concluded, shaking his head. "Squares, but worse."
A lazy smile claimed his features, "I gotta thank you, heh. That is some good reef." Warren stifled a snicker, he always knew when he was stoned by how chatty he became. And apparently right now he was blown. He was looking forward to reading a little more and taking a nice long nap.
When the shot was bypassed, Alex nodded again and tilted his head up, exhaling the smoke in a tight, slow stream. Oh, it moved away, of course, but the color of it was enough to keep Alex from looking away. Things were going slower, and he really just wanted to go back to his apartment, shut himself in the bathroom and shower. And other things. Sometimes Other Things were so much better when high. "Man...my parents are....man," Alex said, spitting on the edge of the joint, deciding he'd save the roach for later, when he didn't have money and no more sticky mickey hanging around. No more tonight, of course, but he knew where he'd stashed it and that offered a sort of comfort. "Man, not squares. Cube. Total cube. But that's them and don't fault them for being squares when you're a cube just because you're a triangle. A triangle cube. Octagon. Rubix cube. Dodeka...dodekaha....something. You know what I mean. You've got dimensions man. Good ones, sharp but soft, y'know? Don't go livin' for them. Live for y'self. That's how 'lot of people 'round here live. For themselves. And it's a good way to live, 'specially when you can live for yourself and live with others living for themselves."
Alex coughed but continued speaking, his voice excited, but slow, like syrup. "Because livin' for yourself and livin' with others livin' for themselves and everyone livin' together? That's life. Life that's good. Good." Holy shit, this was some potent grass. Alex chuckled again and tried to stand up. No, that would not be happening any time soon. He began to scoot like a catepillar toward the opening in his window, already smelling the sweet-spicy scent of marijuana rubbing against the walls and furniture. "You're a cool cat, man. I can dig it. I can dig ya. Digga digga digga." He giggled again and let his blue eyes look up into the sky. There was a smile on his lips, and he liked it there. "You gimme a knock and you're welcome t'come in. Or I can come out. Cool cat, War. Tops in my book."
With that, Alex slipped rear-first into the window, grunting and then gasping as he missed the chair. "Jack! You ass! If I wasn't stoned and had made a new friend, I'd totally be doing something immature to your bedspread. Christ, you better not be eating my ice cream! Later Warren!" Alex shouted out the window, grinning as he scrambled up, trying to get to the freezer before his brother got wise to his ice cream.
Dodeka. Mmmm...Warren's mind briefly meandered to where M.C. Escher was cataloged and made note to see if Ororo had any books of his art. Or where he could get his hands on something like that. He could probably stare at Relativity or Waterfall for hours.
"What it is, what it is," he managed with a chuckle just before Alex disappeared, albeit clumsily, back into his apartment. Warren quite pleased he met someone that he actually might consider a friend turned to do the same with a new pep in his step. And for the first time in a good long while thought things might just be...all right.