Logs:Weed and Weeding
| Weed and Weeding | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2022-02-10 "You could do herbs. FDNY's stuck in the fucking dark ages on that one." |
| Location
<NYC> Village Lofts Roof - East Village | |
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if unwise) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. It hasn't been nearly as cold today as it ought to be in February, but come evening here on the roof there's still a brisk chill, the breeze brisker than it was on the sidewalk below. The garden beds that were installed here years ago have been fallow for a few seasons, but despite this there's a lone and colorful figure busily cleaning up the trash that has been left in them. Jackson(?) doesn't look nearly warmly enough dressed for his winter pallor, bright rainbow colorblocked tee shirt under a pair of black corduroy overalls liberally adorned with colorful flower patches, a pair of rainbow-and-glittery black Chuck Taylors on his feet that he is taking care not to get much dirt on as he fills a trash bag with cigarette butts, beer cans, shards of unidentifiable glass. The door to the roof swings open. Joshua has tossed on a sweatshirt in deference to the evening chill (it proclaims 'Moanalua High School Odyssey of the Mind State Champions 1993!'; he has a takeout bag in one hand and a very large white paper to-go cup in the other as he shuffles out, hooking his foot against the door to hold it briefly behind him. His brows hike up for a moment when he looks towards the garden bed cleanup. "Don't you have a whole yard these days." Tag trails Joshua, wearing a black hoodie covered with swirling rainbow clouds through which both the sun and moon are peeking (at each other) and blue jeans with red contrast stitching and stylized Chinese bats ringing the cuffs, and hot pink sneakers. His hair is down today, scarlet with gold tips, and he has a red satchel with an adorable cartoon tiger on its flap. "Oh!" He brightens visibly when he catches sight of Jackson. "You should have texted! I would have helped with clean-up." He sounds just a little sheepish. "Probably," he adds to Joshua with a quick lopsided slice of a grin as he pads toward the ancient weathered patio set, "his yard is too pristine for this sort of thing." Jax looks up, shaking vividly peacock-ombre dyed hair back from his eye as he peers toward the other. "That yard's alla way over'n Queens an' I was here already," he replies with a lift of one shoulder. "'sides, that yard don't got you two in it so I really feel like I'm winning here, trash'n all." Though he's abandoning the trash to drift over towards the others, swiping Joshua's cup right out of his hand to peel the plastic lid off of it and take a small hopeful sniff. Joshua is following Tag to the table, setting the bag down -- not the cup, though, he doesn't get a chance before it disappears from his hand. He blinks -- not at the pilfered drink but at Jax, freezing and staring briefly at the other man before something eases in the set of his shoulders. He folds himself down into one of the chairs, waving a hand toward the drink. "S'tamarindo, have at." He unfolds the top of the bag to pull two boxes of tacos out from inside. "Brought enough for you, Didn't think you'd be vegan, though." His chair legs rattle-scrape against the concrete as he pushes slightly back from the table, looking over to the raised beds. "You actually gonna plant those?" "Aww!" Actual anime-esque stars twinkle in the depths of Tag's purple eyes. "We are pretty awesome. " The change in Joshua's posture draws his attention, but he almost immediately looks back at Jax again before dropping down into a seat, his smile never fading. "If you want to give it a try I'll do some watering and weeding. Maybe rope Hive into it." A wistful shadow passes over him and he adds, softer, "I don't think he gets nearly enough fresh air, anymore." He flips open one box, then the other, dragging the vegetarian tacos closer to himself. "It would be nice to have some flowers up here. Ooh, and herbs, those are easy to grow!" The Jackson impostor frowns at the tacos even as he takes a large sip from Joshua's agua fresca. "Ohh. I wasn't gonna be but it just seemed a shame ain't nobody tended this thing for so long, it used to be so alive 'fore --" His brows are scrunching. He pulls out another chair and sets his trash bag down beside it. For a second his hands glow fiercely brighter, a sudden heat coming from them before it fades away. In the wake of this he's shifting, warping, tattoos fading from his skin and a deeper color coming to it, face lengthening to a familiar hangdog droop. Joshua reaches for one of the tacos, slouches back in the chair witth it. "Google said now's about time to compost those things." He waves the taco toward the beds. "We could do herbs." "Dunno shit about growing things. I take direction, though." The other Joshua seems unbothered by this swiping of his face. He does snort at the brief flash of heat, hand coming up to shield one side of his face. "Had hand sanitizer." He's unwrapping a taco for himself, drawing his drink back closer as he starts to eat it. "You could do herbs," he adds in a grumble, tipping a scowl up toward the sky. "FDNY's stuck in the fucking dark ages on that one." "You thought that before you were Jax?" By Tag standards, this comes out very mild. "Honestly, I would not be surprised if there are still herbs surviving in there." He seems unbothered by Mirror!Jax's Burning Hands of Sanitation, just closes his eyes and basks in the momentary brightness and warmth. "There's plenty of green stuff in the warm months, and it can't all be weeds. Though." He looks back at the garden beds thoughtfully as he applies copious amounts of spicy salsa to his tacos. "Weeds are alive, too. I don't thin the supe would be too psyched if we grew actual weed, though." He chews on his lip, then amends, "Or maybe he'd just want a cut." The other Other Joshua fidgets with a corner of the wrapper on his taco. "You're an artist." His eyes have lifted to Tag, together with a small uncertain hitch of shoulder. "Sometimes don't you want to -- make things. Grow. Make things better. World has enough destruction." He huffs quietly at JoshuaPrime's complaint, head shaking. "C'mon. You wanna smoke up. I'll find a healer. Clean you up." Joshua's eyes slice over to Mirror, his brows wrinkling momentarily. "Sure you see more than your share." He falls quiet as he finishes his fish taco, tongue running over his teeth before he takes a second. "Yeah? Let's do it. Weed and weeding. Sounds like an evening." | |
