Logs:Up in the Air

Up in the Air
Dramatis Personae Rasa, Sarah, Steve	2020-08-04 "Just wanted the company, to be frank."
Location <NYC> Chimaera Arts
This is just one of the many abandoned warehouses in DUMBO, and like many of them it has recently changed hands. Unlike most of those, however, it does not have some corporate developer's sign out front promising a transformation into luxury condominiums or a boutique shopping center or the latest concept restaurant. Instead it's marked by a piece of weathered but wildly colorful plywood propped up on a stack of broken pallets, which reads "Chimaera Art Space!" above "chimaera.org" in smaller letters. The warehouse is moderately large and decorated with graffiti art in various styles--some of it recognizable as the work of renowned local street artists. A pair of monstrous scrap metal sculptures, perhaps still works in progress, flank the entrance. The building itself has undergone significant renovation recently, complete with wiring, plumbing, and a modular partitioning system. The grounds, too, have been cleaned up, ramshackle fences torn down and rusting detritus removed in favor of reclaimed (and brilliantly repainted) outdoor furniture ringing an impressively engineered firepit. Late in the afternoon, just as the sun begins to dip down behind some of the taller buildings, there is a small section of the active Chimaera space roped off with stanchions. A small array of pads rests in the center, but the berth provided by the retractable belt railing is a big wider. Initially, there doesn't seem to be anything at eye level in that section, but looking up above will show the form of an aerial artist wrapped in silks before ze releases zir hold and plummets down to the earth. Just a foot or two from the surface of the pads, ze stops, having run out of the appropriately measured length of fabric, zir limbs clinging to ends, body taut against the loose grip of trapped fabric. Ze is wearing a form fitting leotard of black, thin straps at zir shoulders and material covering at least half of zir thighs, protecting them from 'rope burn' while ze practices. A light coating of sweat covers zir forehead, partially from the higher temperatures of the upper portion of the warehouse. Ze closes zir eyes and hangs there for a moment, swaying in the breeze. To the side of the stanchions, far enough away to leave room to move around them, Sarah has tug-tug-tugged a padded armchair into viewing position. Curled up in it, she rests her sketchpad against knees that are covered in black leggings with a rainbow skull print. The rest of her outfit follows the theme: lavender shortalls with a print of black bats and shooting stars, a white t-shirt underneath with a pattern of small quartz crystals. Occasionally the phrase ‘Crystal Queer’ can be read on the shirt, where it peeks above the pencil-filled breast pocket of her shortalls. Her gaze occasionally flicks between Rasa up in the air and down to her paper, pencil moving across the paper in small confident strokes. When ze drop, however, Sarah’s eyes widen and she tenses, trying to give some kind of warning to anybody—an awkward squawk just escapes her when Rasa catches herself. The rest of her tension leaves her with a shaky breath. “Geez. I thought I was about to hear a really bad thud.” Steve has been helping to set up for a sumi-e class slated to take place that evening, but this work done he wanders over toward Rasa's practice area, a sketchbook tucked under his right arm and carrying a four-pack of fancy hippie root beer in his left hand. He's dressed in his usual Chimaera outfit, a tight-fitting black t-shirt, blue jeans, and combat boots, all liberally spotted with colorful paint. "Hey there," he says as he approaches Sarah's chair, evidently not so alarmed by the breathtaking aerial stunt. "Hope you don't mind me joining you, though I doubt I'll get much sketching done. Root beer?" He offers the beverage. Rasa's eyes crack open when Sarah speaks, zir smile spreading slowly across zir face. "Hope the rush wasn't too much for you." Zir limbs begin the curl inward, settling zir foot on the padded ground as ze stands, leaning into the red silk. "That is what makes it a circus art -- instead of just art, I guess." Zir holds the new pose for a few minutes, giving Sarah a chance to get some of it down on paper. When ze hears Steve speaks, zir gaze darts over, eyes shifting in color from amber to black, the color draining from zir already pale skin. Zir flesh seems to eat the color like a lead white paint absorbing and muting something mixed into it. "Steve. Hi. I... I just seem to keep running into you." “Not too much. But it’s certainly a show!” Dropping her pencil into her breast pocket, Sarah reaches into it to grab another one seemingly at random before starting to sketch Rasa’s new pose. “Thanks again for modeling for me. With all the fabric and everything, it’s something really different than what I’m used to.” She looks up when Steve draws near, her smile sudden and bright. “Oh! Hi Steve!” Reaching for a root beer with her free hand, she shakes her head. “No, pull up a chair. It’ll probably be--” She notices then Rasa’s reaction, her enthusiasm turning to quiet confusion as she finishes her sentence. “Easier for you.” "Oh! Hello, Rasa." Steve blushes. "Gosh, I may have run into you plenty before now and just -- not realized you were the same person." He sets the root beers down on the ground by the chair and pulls the matching chair to Sarah's over. He downplays the ease somewhat by carrying it close to the ground, but the lack of dragging noises would tip off the others that he is, in fact, carrying the thing off the floor one-handed. Sets it down beside the other, sinks into it, and plucks up a root beer for himself. "Hope you don't mind my sketching you. If you do -- I can work on some other drawings I've got going. Just wanted the company, to be frank." Rasa wets zir lips then shakes zir head just a little in response to Steve's request. "Nah. It's fine. You know, since Sarah gave her permission and all." Ze takes a deep breath before moving again, wrapping the silk around one leg before stepping into a pocket with zir opposite foot. "Besides... I came for the company too." there's a pause and then, "I am sorry about yesterday." Sarah relaxes some once it becomes obvious some kind of argument isn’t about to start. She opens her root beer with a slight wince, dropping the bottle cap into her breast pocket with a small clink of thin metal on wood. “Sorry, I probably should have waited to see how you felt about it, huh?” she sheepishly asks Rasa, sliding socked feet down to let them swing a few inches from the floor and a pair of small purple combat boots. Her sketchbook, lying flat in her lap, shows dynamic sketches of Rasa in different poses, each in it’s own section and vibrant color. “I like to think I make good company.” She offers this and a small smile to both of them before taking a sip of root beer. In the small amount of time it takes her to lower the bottle, her smile has been replaced with a curious raise of eyebrows. She knows enough about manners to not ask, at least. Steve works his pencil loose from the spiral binding of his sketchbook and flips open to a blank page. "Mine is going to be a lot uglier and less colorful than yours," he tells Sarah, though it doesn't sound much like a complaint. He rolls the pencil between the thumb and middle finger of his left hand, the motion clumsy. Looks up at Rasa. "It's alright. I haven't got any special claim on being complicated just because my history with a fella looks more like -- actual history." He blushes suddenly, glancing aside at Sarah. "That's -- not what it sounds like, I promise. And you are. Good company." "I was apologizing for being rude." Rasa hangs out for as long as zir muscles allow, then starts climbing higher, flipping and twisting the fabric to give zirself a seat to swing on. When ze finishes the set up, ze swings through it and ends up upside down. "Yes, we were all wrapped up in strong emotions, but it doesn't excuse the behavior. I appreciate you understanding and all." Ze draws in a deep breath and finishes posing zirself by reaching back and curling zirself into a contortionist backbend. "Sorry, Sarah. Someone we both know did something terrible and when we were talking about it, I snapped at Dusk for snapping at me for ... well, I don't know. Processing? Possibly being kind or patronizing? I was mixed up." Pressing a hand to her mouth to muffle sudden giggles, Sarah is blushing some herself when she answers Steve. “Thank you. And for what it’s worth, I think you’ve gotten a lot better at sketching with your other hand. And I have plenty of pencils if you want something with a little more color.” Her blush fades as she looks back to Rasa’s next pose with interest, though it quickly morphs to surprise. “Oh! You don’t have to explain to me, it doesn’t sound like my business anyway! Besides I'm used to--” She waggles the end of her pencil between the two of them. “--being talked around. I don’t mind!” Cheerful as she tries to sound, there is still a hint of worry in the slight drawing together of her eyebrows, the way she chews on her bottom lip after. When she speaks again, picking at the label on her bottle, it is quiet, hesitant. “I know this basically makes what I just said a lie, but. Was it... whatever happened in the East Village?” Steve looks up from the unsteady outline of Rasa's pose taking shape beneath his pencil. He flashes a rueful smile at Sarah. "Thank you. Really." He bites his lower lip. "Hard not to compare it to my old stuff, but at least it's recognizable now." His eyes skip over to Rasa, still suspended. Drop back down as he puts the tip of his pencil to the page again, bold lines showing the tension and direction of the silks. "Don't want to talk around you, that's for sure. But yes, it was about -- that fella who killed two of the bombers. We both know him, but just..." His lips press together thinly. "...in very different circumstances." "That'd... be the one," Rasa replies, perhaps as thin lipped as Steve. Ze finishes the stretch then lowers zirself back to the pads, working closer to the pair now that conversation seems to be continuing. "The guy went from shielding me with his body to gutting people in 20 seconds or less and.. very... conflicting. So... we're conflicted. and emotional. Fuck, I don't know. But that's how I met Steve here and now we just keep seeing each other." Sarah listens quietly, continues to shred the fancy hippie label on her fancy hippie root beer. “That sounds scary. And complicated. It sucks that that’s something you have to deal with,” she says, only just remembering to speak up for Rasa’s sake, “but I’m glad neither one of you were hurt.” The defaced bottle ends up tucked between the cushion and arm of the couch, before she wipes her hands off on the legs of her shortalls. Picks a pencil up again to sketch a quick pose in cyan lines and circles. "I -- think there were others who had more to fear in terms of fallout," Steve says slowly as he adds detail to his sketch, his grip on his pencil careful and light. "But ah, yeah, it was pretty disturbing in the moment, too. I'm sorry you had to see that, Rasa, on top of everything else." He's quiet for half a beat, then offers the carton of sodas. "Would you like a root beer?" "I have fear in terms of fallout. I have HUGE fears about the fallout. It's not over. It can't be over." Shocks of ochre and umber flare up and dissipate throughout Rasa's skin tone as ze speaks, more passion filtering into zir tone. "I mean, it was my first ... first reaction." Ze lowers zirself to the matts and turns to sit on them, less inclined to attempt difficult activities. "Don't ... worry. Too much. This isn't really the worst thing I've been through. Just, not really the easiest." Ze licks zir lips at the mention of refreshment and nods, offering a small smile and on grabby hand. "Please?" Steve's brows furrow faintly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say there's no concerns in terms of fallout for you, either. Clearly he means something to you, too, and like I said that's not less important just because it was more recent." He bows his head. "It's a lot either way, that's for sure." He hands over the soda. "Anyway, after some refreshment, maybe if I help you put away your equipment, you can critique my sketch."