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<> The Attic
Unlike some attics which are merely used for storage and collecting dust and cobwebs, this one seems to be well-maintained. There are cardboard boxes neatly stacked in one corner of it nearly to the ceiling, but at least the junk's not just lying all over the place. Sunlight is generous, here, and streams through large and numerous windows onto the wooden, creaking floorboards and the dozens of plants that occupy the area. They seem to thrive in this sunny environment through all seasons, and someone evidently takes good care of them judging by the full leaves and cheerful blossoms on some that render the air pleasant with the scent of musty attic and fresh flowers. A strange combination, but comforting nonetheless. Near an old, beat-up couch resting against one wall, near the corner, a set of stairs lead further up into the ceiling, possibly onto the roof.
[Exits : [T]he [R]oof, and [D]own the [S]tairs ]
[Players : Forge ]
Forge has upended a box and is now holding an experiment to see if sitting on said box is like to compromise its structural integrity. He even lightly bounces his rear upon it.
A subtle, rhythmic clumping upon the stairs announces someone, and shortly after, Jareth's head rises into sight above the top of the stairs. This follows, naturally, with the rest of him moments later, or at least halfway before he looks up and stops. Recognition spurs a small smirk. "I just hope that's not going to atomize anything or punch holes in the space-time continuum."
"It is a box," Forge explains with the simplicity a box requires. He bounces a singular time more. "It is not likely to atomize anything."
Upon ascending the remaining stairs, Jareth conducts a similar but rather more rapid experiment by way of placing himself unceremoniously on another box. "If Calvin and Hobbes is any indication, boxes could contain anything." Another smirk flickers in and out of being. "Good to see you again, you kook."
"Calvin and Hobbes is a comic," Forge states logically. The box makes a silent protest. "And, let's not be ridiculous, I've been here all along. Just in a hermitlike fashion."
Jareth's eyes widen in exaggerated fashion. "It's a what?" For a moment, he stares at Forge in equally exaggerated fashion. This done and attention relenting, he studies the box before fixing again on Forge. "If you're being a hermit, I don't think that would be too comfortable for your crabby shell."
Whump. The box collapses inward. Forge is sunken into it, his arms hooked out on either side. He frowns thoughtfully. "I'm done being a hermit."
Reflex draws Jareth back to the box, as well as a short ways toward Forge. He blinks, hoists himself from the box, and moves to offer an arm to in turn hoist Forge from his. "So I see. I suggest one not quite so thin."
Forge makes no move to accept Jareth's arm. He is calculating. "We must test boxes that look like they might not hold us."
Jareth lowers his arm and waits patiently. "So as to weed out the ones that don't? I'm sure Darwin would find something enjoyable in that." Finding no acceptance of arm shortly forthcoming, he sits again on what is now the nearest of the boxes.
Forge just stays where he is. Thoughtful, so thoughtful. "There should be a way to make thin cardboard boxes that do not collapse."
Jareth's arms drape over and between his knees while he settles himself. Thus already leaning forward, he studies the floor. "Hmm. I suppose you could put a layer of wood inside, but that rather defeats the purpose." He straightens up to regard Forge in a theatrical, nearly salutatory manner. "I remain confident you will solve the dilemma post haste and be most triumphant."
"Of course. I am a genius." This need hardly be said! Forge raises his metal hand to massage his most normally fleshed chin. "An invincible box. Of cardboard. Or, perhaps not invincible. Let us not do too much in one sitting."
Jareth favors this with a stranger and, theatrics remaining, rather suspicious look. "Invulnerability is a bit much to give right away. Some things are not meant for men and corrugated objects to know."
Forge raises his hand higher up his face to massage his forehead. "You may have a point."
Jareth's fingers tap against each other a moment. "We can't have the boxes becoming overconfident and seeking to overthrow their masters by assault of paper cuts." His eyebrows furrow. "Hmm. If we kept if from breaking so easily, though, I wonder what sort of a market exists for cardboard furniture."
"Whatever market we choose to make with it." Forge's smile doesn't reach his eyes. Ah. Bwahahah. He finally rises from the box.
More easily than his prior expression, Jareth smiles, steepling his fingers to drum together. "And we shall bring IKEA kneeling before us." He shifts again, one expression to the next, and reaches out to again offer an arm.
Forge again ignores the arm, for he is a man of his own power. He brushes down his wrist and steadies himself. Aye, steady. "Perhaps."
Again, Jareth's proferred arm lowers, easily disregarding the decline. "Either that or we'll find a successful niche market among eccentric college students."
"Which means we'll have to price it cheap," Forge sighs regretfully as he starts a meander toward the door.
Jareth places hands on knees and hefts himself off the box, surely much to the relief of the hapless material. Traipsing in kind toward the door below, he too sighs. "So much for retiring early."
"Tch. One does not build for money," Forge states as he starts down the stairs. "One builds for /love/."
Two sounds of footsteps this time march down the stairs. "For some, the two are not mutually exclusive, or outright the same. For us geeks, we just like our toys. Or at the moment, food. Let's hit the kitchen." Departing the last of the steps, Jareth lets the door close again behind them.
The lords of geek have reunited, and all is well with the Universe.