Logs:Family Proclamation

Family Proclamation
Dramatis Personae Dawson, Polaris	2020-09-23 "I guess--it challenges them to imagine a world that is bigger than their own." (Set just after meeting Blake.)
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 distorted blur that skims along the high ceilings of Evolve not all that long after it left is a familiar enough sight it raises few eyebrows. Dawson looks just a little flustered as he sets Polaris back beside her seat. Drops back into his own with a hand scrubbing across his face. His cider has not moved -- no longer steaming, not so much Hot Cider as kind of, warm cider, and his lips pull slightly down as he takes a swallow. If he has any complaints about the less-than-toasty beverage -- or anything else -- he keeps them to himself, just sinking back into the corner of the couch with a small sigh. "Wellp." Polaris sinks down onto the couch beside Dawson again, still swaying a little. "Yeeeah," she agrees, pick up her own cider. "Every few weeks, pretty much, we get someone losing control in here. I feel bad for them, but..." She takes a slow sip of her beverage. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. It's been enough of a day for you, already." "You weren't even on the clock." Dawson's head shakes, his mechanical hand cradling his cup stiffly. His teeth have just started to grind again, but they stop here, his eyes lifting to Polaris. A crooked smile sets itself on his face. "If you thought meeting was intense you should see my Twitter mentions." Though just as soon this shifts into a grimace: "On second thought, you really shouldn't." Polaris lays a hand on Dawson's arm, squeezing gently. "I mean, I had no idea about that proclamation before today, but you've been living with under it basically your whole life. That itself--your Church making a point to affirm the way you love is against God's plan or whatever--is traumatic. I admit I was pleasantly surprised at people's takes on it, in the meeting." She studies him sidelong, hazel eyes wide and wondering. "I guess Mor--uh, Saints on Twitter aren't all being so progressive about it?" Dawson looks down to Polaris's hand. He swallows, quiet a time before saying, softer: "Growing up, we had that framed and hanging on the wall. As far back as I can remember, it was just -- central . In our house, in our church, in our lives. I had this very clear model in my parents and I knew how I was supposed to grow up and be." His arm shifts; he pulls it back a little, turning his hand over so that he can lace his fingers through hers. His laugh here is a little sharp. "Oh, wow. On there progmo is practically a slur. It's not as bad as some days, though. Last I checked I've only had two people saying they're actually going to track me down and murder me over my efforts to destroy traditional families. Today, anyway." Polaris's dark green eyebrows raise up, up, up. "Framed? Wow..." Her expression is deeply bewildered. "We just had the Beatitudes on the dining room wall." She pulls in a quick breath, soft and pleased, when their fingers intertwine, a faint blush blossoming on her cheeks. "Death threats, over speaking your truth--of how the proclamation has hurt you? If they're doing that in God's name they got it real twisted." Her lips twist to one side, her hand squeezes gently. "'Blessed are ye when they shall revile you, and persecute you, and speak all that is evil against you, untruly, for my sake.'" She ducks her head slightly. "It's like the only Bible passage I know by heart." "It's been a big part of Church teachings since it came out. Pretty central to --" Dawson's shoulders sag, if only for a moment; in the next he sits up again, brighter and more animated. "It's not just how it's hurt us -- they don't like that too, for sure. But -- speaking about how much more family can be. An inclusive view, an expansive view -- like queer Saints and feminist Saints don't want families every bit as much. To some people I think that's scarier, thinking of a future that's -- better. I guess the Church isn't so different from everywhere else on that front. Talking about liberation seems to really unbalance people." "I guess--it challenges them to imagine a world that is bigger than their own." Polaris murmurs. "Easier to pretend there's nothing more. Or that anything more is evil, I guess?" She cocks her head. "I was about to say I don't know how they reckon that with a faith that teaches revelation is ongoing, but probably anyone who's concluded death threats are an acceptable means of disagreement isn't actually that fussed about doctrine." She studies Dawson sidelong. "But maybe sometimes you unbalance someone and they get a glimpse of the issue from a different angle." "I think there's a lot of people in the world who want to use God as some kind of weapon to bludgeon people with -- whatever view they would have held anyway. Instead of being open, really, to listening to what They have to say." There's a very slight tinge of pink in Dawson's cheeks as Polaris studies him. He's looking down at their joined hands, his mechanical one not quite steady in its grip on the mug. "Sometimes it does work like that. To be honest, though, I don't keep at it for the die hard bigots. Not on Twitter, for sure. The other queer Saints out there desperately hoping there's a place for them? They're who I want to reach most. All the people on the fence who listen and open their hearts more and more -- that's a good bonus." "What gets me is--" Polaris hesitates, chuffs a soft breath of laughter. "Okay, there's a lot, actually, but about the proclamation, and family--is that it doesn't even leave room for the divine family." She averts her eyes when Dawson blushes, her own cheeks flushing, too. "Heavenly Parents, the Holy Spirit, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph? That's not a 'traditional' nuclear family at all." She adds an air quote with just her left hand. "Maybe that's harder for straight people to see. The queer Saints you're in community with? I'm interested to know them, too. And their...testimonies." A wider smile blossoms across Dawson's face. "Right? Yeah! There's so much about our theology that's inherently really queer but people do not want to have that conversation. Some of us are having it anyway, though." He sets his mug carefully aside. "I'm sure you will. They're a bit part of my community -- a big part of my life." His hand squeezes at Polaris as he shifts a little bit closer to her. "And so are you." Polaris nods, rapt, though she still isn't making direct eye contact. "That's brave--and hard." Her breath flutters when Dawson shifts closer, and at his last words she does look up into his eyes, her own wide and maybe just a little startled. "I want that," she whispers, lifting her free hand to touch Dawson's jawline. "You are so amazing...that I just about forgot we're sitting in the middle of Evolve." Dawson glances to their food, and then back to Polaris. His cheek presses lightly into the touch, the red in it deepening. "It's nice outside. We could get out of here." Polaris opens her mouth, but no words come out. Just a very soft, barely voiced "Oh!" She nods rapidly enough, though, and manages a quiet, "I'd like that."