revivalproject | Composition

Entry tags:

Composition

WHO: Tony, Jon and OTA!
WHERE: The Temba Civics Centre and the library
WHAT: Tony is looking for some help for a little art project
WHEN: End of November
WARNINGS: I can guarantee you Tony and Jon are going to get weird, but what kind of weird is a gamble. Some of the paint effects are open to interpretation, so tag accordingly I guess?

a. NETWORK//TEXT un:iron man//PUBLIC
Do you know how to draw? Paint? Hold a paintbrush at all? We're hiring! Join us at the Civic Centre, downtown Temba, to contribute your artistic excellence to an important installation in Temba's cultural expression. No resume or portfolio necessary. Bring snacks.

b. He-Row Moor All [OTA! Treat this as a mingle, and feel free to get wild with the paint effects]
There aren't many more instructions for interested artists or intrigued onlookers arriving at the Civic Centre. Upon entering, the facing wall of the comfortable entrance hall has been scrubbed clean in expectant preparation. Artists might get an idea of what to do with the items arranged around it, like the small pile of roughly fabricated brushes made of sticks and an array of different material tips, such as grass and fur. A round, metal robot or droid, with six spidery legs and a wide camera lens considers them and will move around the room skittishly. If it isn't bothered, it will project images of some familiar faces onto the floor. They seem to be the same faces that accompany a He-Row's name in the communication device dictionaries, but some of them definitely aren't on that list...

Tacked to the centre of the wall is a small scrap of paper with a surprisingly geometric, but incredibly vague sketch of what looks kind of like a police line up: various shapes of people standing next to each other in what might be an amateur's rigidity.

None of this would be any use without the containers of paint(?) arrayed against the wall. Take your pick! This definitely came from a very reliable source, all very local and organic, so you shouldn't be worried about how toxic it might be if you get it on your skin.

Red is a familiar colour. A lot like that fruit around town, or the juice produced on the Flygood.

Blue gets weirdly sticky. Like, REALLY sticky. On the wall its fine, but once in contact with skin you're not going to want to let anything else touch it...

Yellow is a real jolt to the system. One minute you might be painting happily, the next minute you're bouncing off the walls like a shot of adrenaline.

Mix some more colours and you might be in some real trouble.

Painters might notice one last thing as they turn around to go back out the door; a tiny stack of thin, hammered brass tags, all of them stamped simply 'I. O. U.'. Maybe they should take one before they go. It's not like anything bad could happen.

c. Nearby... [for Jon]
There wasn't anything obvious to Tony about the mural project that should be irritating Jon as much as it seemed to be. Not that he thought there would be much to stop him if he did understand where this distaste was coming from any better; he was used to asking forgiveness. In fact, sneaking his way into the library to leave his apology gift was getting to be annoyingly familiar, and even with the nagging awareness of Jon's recent reticence starting to settle uncomfortably in Tony's chest, he was comfortable enough in the repetition of the act to linger for a moment against Jon's desk in the basement and consider what D.A.T.A. was observing in the Civic Centre. No, there was no way this was a terrible idea. At worst, it was a waste of time for a handful of people who happened to enjoy painting and maybe could have been doing something more productive if miserable instead, like peeling potatoes. Space potatoes. Around Tony, stacked on the desk and without anything shiny this time to attract the disruptive attention of the mothcats, were a group of bouquets. Five of them, in fact; none of them particularly big, to Tony's frustration, just big enough to be tied neatly with a long piece of grass around their stems, and all sorted by hue. They had looked impressive while all gathered in his arms, but once they were spread on the desk they looked a lot less bountiful, and Tony had sighed and was frowning as he crossed his arms and his ankles and stared blankly into the middle distance as he considered his cameras.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jon has, of course, received Tony's public call for the local artists to assemble, deciding to check in there later. Not to make sure nothing has gone up in flames, of course, though that would be the preferred outcome still.

It has been a quiet day for the Archivist so far. A day spent with taking care of his accumulated laundry by taking to over to the hangar and spending some time in the ship he has been assigned to, treating himself to a hot beverage and his own pondering while the washing machine works. Jon is far from finished pondering when he returns to the library with his box of clean laundry, being greeted by a few mothcats on his way to the basement.

Yes, he could have known that Tony is down there, but he doesn't. He yet tries to not keep a constant eye on the man, which results in a genuinely surprised reaction once he spots Tony in front of his desk which is currently covered in- "Flowers?"

It took Tony a few blinks to come out of his network fugue, staring at Jon for a beat like he didn't recognize him in his surprise at the arrival, then breaking into a grin that might have almost been genuine. The affection in it was quickly masked by his defensive bombast, trying to look like he belonged there despite his guilty sneaking, and the sharp uptick into a smirk as he accepted, "I am very sweet and intoxicating. Does that make you my honeybee?" Jon wasn't grumbling or glaring yet, that was good. Tony could use this element of surprise and be gone before Jon remembered what he was angry about, and pushed away from the desk with a motion like he might relieve Jon of his box to let him investigate the delivery.

That initial reaction leaves Jon flustered for at least a few moments. At least long enough to allow Tony to take the box out of his hands.

It's easy enough to figure out what this is meant to be, though, and Jon's eyes settle on the gathering of flowers while a small frown starts to settle on his forehead. "I take it this is your apology." He concludes and looks over to Tony, a single eyebrow being pulled up ever so slightly. "Nice to see you stuck around as well." Unless, of course, Jon has simply been back sooner than Tony has anticipated and the man has had intended to sneak away as he likes to do after leaving his gifts.

That had been the plan, and under that frown Tony did consider maybe the impulse could use some evaluating because Jon had made it clear enough the last time Tony was avoiding him how cruel that was and he really thought he had learned that lesson finally. Now, though, he couldn't quite bring himself to actually leave when he had Jon's attention, and instead was holding the box between them like a last line of defence, rolling his eyes to avoid meeting Jon's with his guilt and still drawn to risking a sidelong look to watch Jon's face.

"Listen, it's part one," he insisted, though he had no follow up plans yet and was going to have to figure out something extravagant now, but it didn't look like Jon was accepting the apology as it was so Tony had to buy himself some time. "These have a time limit, had to make the most of them. You know what, not even the apology, forget about it, I haven't apologized yet, they're just here to brighten the place up, and I'm working on it. I'll put this away." Tony did not appear to have any intention of following through with that last part, remaining rooted to the spot and still looking hopefully at Jon. It's not like he knew where Jon's laundry went anyway.

While Tony works his way through his answer, Jon watches him patiently, the frown, however, not wavering. "What, exactly, are you apologizing for, Tony." Jon asks in an even tone. Being aware he has messed up somewhere isn't necessarily difficult, but for Tony to figuring out what exactly is a whole different story.

Jon will hold off on any comments regarding the flowers for now, though. He does recognize the work that went into gathering them, of course.

Jon was supposed to be the one that knew those details, Tony just knew he was in trouble and was trying to get Jon to smile at him again. That stubborn frown was definitely not helping the situation. Tony was pretty sure he started sweating despite the chill in the basement, and cleared his throat to buy himself the extra second to work out the most acceptable answer, because now all of them did not sound correct. Really, he had a backlog. "The...mural?" he eventually had to try, because that was the most immediate problem, and the one he had been trying to mitigate with the flowers, after all. There was no way Jon had missed his call for artists. Not that he was ignoring the rest of the problems. "And, boss, there's the issue of my whole...personality, I've been working on it, I think I've made progress, but it's a big one--that's not an excuse--and the trying to set you on fire...thing, and that burn, I know a bunch of stuff isn't going to fix that and I hate it, I'm struggling with that one, I don't know how to fix a scar here, and when you're glaring at people like that, when you got angry with Cayde the other day, I have some apologies to make about that but that's more of a personal restraint problem, maybe that's part of the personality issue, I'm trying to break it down into more manageable targets." Deep breath. "So I brought flowers."

It would be nice if Jon could actually be surprised at Tony starting to guess what he is apologizing for, though his surprise much rather manifests in a grimace and Jon taking half a step back at Tony suggesting the mural might be an issue. He blinks at Tony as the man goes on, reaching up to the side of his face when Jon's most recent scar is being brought up, finding himself baffled that that apparently is an issue in Tony's eyes. His eyes briefly flick back to his desk once Tony finally lands on the flowers before quickly returning to Tony.

There is a short pause in which silence at least attempts to settle before Jon takes a deep breath. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for!" Somehow he feels like this details actually needs to be made clear, so he does. His tone maintains an edge as he continues. "I'm not mad about the scar, Tony, and I have told you that. Also I'm not mad about the mural. It's a good idea and I would have supported it if you hadn't delivered it by literally throwing yourself off a building! I'm not mad, I'm worried! And I try what I can to not constantly watch you to give you your privacy, but then things like that happen and I find myself picturing how it could have all gone wrong." Jon's tone and voice shifts there, losing some of its edge as his focus drifts sideways and feint, barely notable patches of distortion crackle across the reality of the library's basement. "And I see you falling, further and further until you hit the ground and your body breaks, bones snapping ans skin tearing and I see you lying there, broken and bloody and 𝓲͇̚𝓷̬̓ 𝓪ͭͅ𝓰̠̈𝓸ͥͅ𝓷͚ͭ𝔂̮̐-"

This would have been less excruciating for both of them if Jon had just interrupted Tony instead of letting him embarrass himself as he floundered and apparently missed every mark. Neither of them were terribly surprised about that, though, so when Jon did shout at him, Tony gave a stiff nod and pursed his lips, hitching the box higher against his chest and keeping his gaze averted as Jon continued. As for the scar, he started to mutter, "No, of course not, I'm mad about it, though,so--" How much of an issue the mural might be was more dubious, distracting Tony into meeting Jon's eye again to gauge his sincerity, because Tony had been sure there was something wrong after Jon had walked out over it. Jon was still probably right to be angry, that would still leave Tony in the dark about what exactly he had to apologize for, but...

Tony continued to watch as Jon looked away, anxiety tightening up his spine at the warning tingle at the base of his skull and flicker at the edge of his vision. This wasn't an unfamiliar concern--not from Jon, who had yelled at Tony enough times after a risky encounter, and also not from a whole history of Tony's girlfriends who couldn't handle the stress of his commitment to the Iron Man. This wasn't about the Iron Man, though, this was about him and a hot shame that was only stoked by Jon's accompanying display of power. "I didn't throw myself off a building," he replied, jaw tight with his own frustration. "It's a zipline, a toy, children play with them. I know I'm not like you, and Cayde, and Cal, and--I feel obsolete, and there's nothing I can do to keep up. I know. But I can handle worse than a toy, and I promise you I don't need to be reminded of my weakness. I know."

There are a couple of things here that draw Jon's attention, starting with Tony being mad about the scar he left on Jon's face, which quite likely can be attributed to guilt, and ending somewhere in what appears to be an entire pool of frustrations Tony is quite obviously dwelling in. Jon regards him for a prolonged moment. A moment that ends with him taking in a deep breath in an attempt to draw his own lingering irritation back in and his attention shifting back to the arrangement of flowers before he tales a step back forward, towards Tony, and reaches a hand out to the man's shoulder, indicating for him to move over to the desk with him and sit down on the chair Jon usually uses when working there.

Jon will wait until Tony has taken a seat. "Tell me, what makes you believe you're obsolete?" He asks in a stern, clearly concerned voice.

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b

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B fashionably late

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