Phoenix nodded, her long, loose hair bouncing at the ends in waves near her hips, at Eliza's explanation of her outfit, it was NYC, and Phoenix herself had seen get ups much more...interesting...than what Eliza was wearing now. She recalled Aries and Medusa telling her of their outing in the fancy car, where a car full of humans thought they were dressed up for a costume party. People may have thought the same thing if they saw the ferret-woman. However, she wasn't in a car with her elbow hanging out of the window. She scratched herself behind her ears, where the hat had pushed down her fur, and Phoenix was happy to see a genuine smile on the ferret's face, her lips pulled back, her fangs showing, her eyes squinted in pleasure. Eliza was happy to see her! Still feeling shy and foolish for her girlish excitement, and then foolish for feeling foolish, she felt her cheeks flushing, and she bounced on her toes once more. It was like having a friend come over to play when she was younger, someone whom she hadn't seen in a long time, but had greatly enjoyed the company of. Had it been that long since she'd been excited about a person? Had it been that long since she'd had that kind of connection with a person?
As she'd discussed with Arcos, something was different about Eliza than any other mutant she'd met. Perhaps because, even in their short acquaintance, she had been able to discern so many parallels between the two of them, more similarities than she'd had with anyone in her entire time in this life. She'd meditated on it, something she only did when an issue would not leave her conscious mind in peace, more in an attempt to make the entire idea burst from her subconscious to get an answer, rather than waiting for little thoughts to bubble up to niggle at her like a mosquito bite that wouldn't stop itching. They were both female, and both not young adults. They were both mothers, something so rare in the mutant world that she'd not knowingly encountered any. Eliza was smart, and witty. But there was something else about her, that made her excited to see her, but she had not yet been able to put her finger on what it was.
She gestured dismissively at Eliza's comment of her abode. She never thought of it as large, she mainly thought of the top floor as their home, and the rest of the building as a type of adjunct space. Their use of it had grown slowly over the years, as their desire of spaces outgrew the top floor or were not suitable for a living space. "We don't use the whole thing," she said. "We only use the top two floors. The bottom three are empty. The kids use the back of the first floor to work on cars and things," she gestured behind her, unseen through the wall of the entryway. She gestured for Eliza to follow her up the stairs. "And the fourth floor is the workshop, where everyone has their little spaces. We live on the top floor." She chuckled. "And the garden, behind the ivy wall." She began to ascend the staircase, "C'mon, and I'll show you."
The stairs opened up into each of the floors, all undivided spaces, huge rooms that took up the entirety of the warehouse floor, save for the first floor. The second and third floor were empty of anything, looking a little too clean to be abandoned, but too abandoned to be occupied even occasionally. The fourth floor opened up to a wide open space, columns punctuating the room every so often to support the building. While there were no walls, it was clearly set up into different areas, a place that resembled a woodshop, a metal workshop, and an artist's studio. It took up nowhere near the entire floor. At the back of the floor, was an old refrigerator that was now a dehydrator, along with herbs in various stages of being turned into medicines.
Phoenix motioned dramatically and said, "The not-living floor!"
Eliza followed Phoenix as she bounced up the stairs. The next two floors were empty and expansive, obviously unused but in better condition than the ground floor. The fourth floor was just as expansive but the difference was monumental. Though there was still the plenty of empty space the signs of activity in the separate areas seemed to fill the room past their defined borders. She had to laugh at the Phoenix's title for the floor. "I don't know, this looks like living to me!" She looked and smiled at the healer, happy to find that Phoenix seemed just as happy as the ferret to be in each other's company.
As if she was drawn by an invisible force, Eliza moved past the landing and deeper into the space. The different areas were spread before her like a final showcase on a gameshow and she was hard-pressed to choose just one to focus on. As she traversed the room and took in the sights and smells she became more and more delighted. From the way the spaces were organized it was easy to tell that they were mainly occupied by different people.
Phoenix mentioned that the children worked on cars on the first floor and she could see evidence of mechanical parts being constructed or restored. She admired the skill involved, not one that she had or was interested in pursuing, but commendable for the effort required. The beautifully carved wood pieces however, instantly caught her eye and the aroma of cedar shavings hit her with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. She inhaled deeply, claiming the sensation for later reflection but choose to move on rather than dwell.
She wondered which of the children claimed these talents, and found that she really couldn't make any assumptions on the matter. Medusa had nimble slender fingers and the intricacy of some of the half-finished wood pieces seemed to have required a very delicate touch. But she knew from experience that those who grew up in these unique bodies found ways to adapt beyond her current ability to do so. Donnie had large thick digits but she had seen him solder the most intricate circuit boards with a precision she would have never been able to accomplish even when she had all ten digits.
The ferret-woman continued to pace slowly as she scanned the treasures of the room but in front of the area that was set up as a art studio she had to stop. With almost a sense of timidness, reluctant to invade someone else's territory, she moved deeper into the space. On an easel was a stunning rendition of a sunrise, the piece still in progress, apparent by the foreground buildings that were framed in but not yet fully realized. What caught her was the use of color in the warm background, yet there was a sense of melancholy not often present in a dawn painting. In the past she had seen the sunrise as bright and full of hope, but here the shadows it cast seemed almost ominous. Her reaction to the imagery was so strong she had to pause and take a breath to recenter herself.
With a feeling of reverence she lifted her pointer finger to trace the bold strokes of the painting in the air without actually touching the canvas. She looked at Phoenix and asked with awe in her voice as her face relaxed into soft curves. "This... this is beautiful. Who painted it?"
Phoenix watched proudly as Eliza drifted onto the floor, her legs flittering slightly as she walked. Seeing her from behind, Phoenix could see the slight slump to her shoulders, a posture many mutants, both of her sons included, found most comfortable when walking up on two legs. She had noticed many years ago, that it almost always indicated an adept ability to be quadrupedal, and she remember Eliza shaking on all fours at their last meeting. The ferret mutant took in the room, almost like a soaking, looking at each place slowly and carefully. Phoenix rarely took pride in her home, in fact, she had work to take pride in it. She was satisfied with it, it was a good home, she'd made it cozy and livable, even if it had taken five of them and twenty years to do it. They were homeless, for lack of a better term, and they lived better than some people on the bottom of the poverty level. These were things Phoenix had to remind herself of on a regular basis, but today, seeing Eliza circulate the room, pride welled up her small breast. Not everyone had a workshop, a thought she had also reminded herself of often in attempt to soothe her sometimes discontented heart, and here was someone admiring her family's.
Eliza stopped at Arcos' easel, and took a breath in. The ferret woman turned to her, her face full of wonder, "This...this is beautiful. Who painted it?"
Phoenix walked over to the easel, she had not seen her son's latest work. He had started on it only a few days ago, and she'd not been in his studio during that time. As she came over she said, "Arcos painted it, the studio belongs to him." As she entered the space, she gestured widely to encompass it. "He uses all kind of media." She came to stand in front of the painting, a classic Arcos, his style of bold, colorful strokes. It was a sunrise in front of the city, casting long, dark shadows in front of the buildings it rose behind. The front of the picture, gradually darker in the foreground, as the shadows lengthened gave her a feeling of foreboding. Her son's ability with paints and clay had always amazed her, even when he was little, copying Bob Ross each day. He was a wonderful artist, and it pulled at her heart sometimes that he could not share his art with the world properly and openly. She admired it for a moment before saying, "He is very good," as if his painting was not proof enough of the fact.
She had seen plenty of sunrises in her lifetime, emerging from the ocean, spreading across the broad plains, peaking through lush foliage and cresting over mountain ranges, she always basked in them. Thankful for the moment of quiet reflection and opportunity to count her blessings, even when those first rays glistened off of graveside tears. Eliza was not an expert on New York's rooftop vistas, but the one depicted in Acros' painting reminded her very much of one of the few she had experienced. Of a sunrise just months ago when, wrapped in a blanket that was not her own, looking out on a city she was a stranger to, her morning reflections were full of regret and the coming dawn meant facing responsibilities that she had lost sight of in the night. It was the last glowing golden horizon she had witnessed with human eyes.
"Yes. Yes he is." She straightened up and shut down the memories that wanted to claw at her. Focusing instead on the technique of the artist rather than emotions it pulled out of her. "A very distinct viewpoint with bold palette choices. Emotional but with a solid grasp of the fundamentals." She saw the healer's look of interest at her commentary and decided to give some context. "My grandmother painted portraits, she died before I was born but mother had several in our home and we would often go to exhibits together. It think it was a way to bridge the gap, mom was always doodling though she never had the time or space for more." She gave Phoenix a mischievous half smile. "Unfortunately, the talent skipped over me and most of my appreciation comes from a deep well of jealousy." She gave a wink. "Regardless, your son definitely has new admirer."
After a final glance around the studio Eliza turned in the direction of the one area she had not yet examined. Lifting her snout slightly she inhaled and let the scent of herbs wash over her. "Well, it's fairly obvious which area is yours."
She walked towards the back end of the floor and was impressed by the sheer amount of material being prepared. Taking time to look over the space with curiosity and trying to associate the many smells with their physical appearance. Though moving closer to the more pungent aromas may have been a miscalculation. Her nose started to twitch and though she was able to control the urge several times eventually she erupted into a series of powerful sneezes.
She ended up burying her muzzle into her bundle of hat, veil and scarf till she got the fit under control. "Ohh... uhh... that hurt." She looked at the healer sheepishly. "Heheh... Sorry. Excuse me."