ArchivedLogs:Planning Violence

Planning Violence
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra, Thing One, Thing Two (part of fight club.)
In Absentia	2013-06-26 '
Location <XS> School Grounds
Xavier's School is situated on grounds as luxurious as the mansion itself. The tree-lined drive brings you up to the lush green sweep of front lawn and the wide front porch with its bench swing, often frequented by students studying in pleasant weather. The large oak tree in the front yard is home to a tire swing, installed long ago beneath the sturdy old treehouse. The lawn rolls out all the way down to the thin rocky pier at the edge of the glittering lake. The water stretches huge and wide off into the distance, the boathouse a small blip at its shore. Along its bank, forest stretches dense and shady to one side; to the other cliffs start to rise, high and rocky, providing trails for hiking or climbing, for the adventurous. It's still hot. Oppressively humid, a muggythick air that leaves everything feeling kind of damp. Overhead grey stormclouds in the distance promise even more wet later, but at the moment it is clear. Clear, but heavy-hot enough and impending-storm enough that there are not very many people venturing out of doors, after lunchtime. There are, at the moment, two, though. Twin figures in black and white (and blue) -- one boy wears a ribbed white tank top, the other a black one; one black cargo shorts, the other khaki. No shoes. There are spots of damp showing through the thin fabric of their shirts, spots of wet that are not drying from their skin in the humidity, water droplets still glistening in the plasticky-hard spiky mess that passes for hair atop their heads. "{When's pa's last class?}" TwinInBlack asks eventually in tired Vietnamese. He's perched on the railing that rings the porch, leaning back against a column. Head bonked backwards, eyes fixed up on the roof overhanging the porch. One leg dangles down to the outside of the railing; the other rests atop it, knee crooked up towards his chest. "{Now,}" answers the other. /He/ sits in mirror image position to his twin, leg dangling on the /inside/ of the rail but his other tucked upwards, too. One arm drapes against his knee, fingers dangling downwards. His eyes droop sleepily half-closed. "{We really doing it today?}" Thing One does not look away from the ceiling. "{To/night/,}" corrects Thing Two. "{Because I have work first. No idea who's coming.}" His eyes close the rest of the way. "{Joshua,}" says Thing One, with a quick smile. One that is quickly echoed by Thing Two. The door opens and Isra emerges, straightening to her full height. She wears an emerald-and-gold sari, creatively wrapped to leave wings free, and carries a tray heavily laden with food. There must be enough falafel and lassi here to feed four or five. Glancing at the sky, she emits a soft, noncommittal noise. "Good afternoon, Shane, Sebastian." She bobs her head at them collectively. "I hope this day finds you well." Thing One turns, sniffing at the air when Isra approaches. "Those colours are excellent," says Thing Two. "We should hunt tomorrow," suggests his brother, wrinkling his nose at the falafel. The other tilts his head, looking over Isra's plate. "Well enough, I guess. You been in the city lately?" "Thank you," Isra replies, glancing down, "I have had to learn to dress myself again. For the third time." She does not sound bitter. Her tail swishes beneath the folds of her dress at the mention of the word 'hunt'. A touch of excitement creeps into her level voice. "I think that is a most /excellent/ idea." Without even a cursory glance at the proper chairs and benches, Isra seats herself on the porch steps, far enough to one side that another could pass--if she kept her wings tucked in close, anyway. "I have been advised strongly by multiple independent sources to avoid the City. Nevertheless, yes, I have ventured there once or twice." She pauses and gulps down half a glass of lassi. "I am fortunate, however, and have encountered no violence personally. Unless you count graffiti on my door and a smashed front window. I..." Her eyes, vivid green in the firece sunlight, dart from one twin to the other. "The Troubles have not been as kind to you." There is a car rolling its way up the school's long drive. Not a familiar car, just whatever Zipcar happened to be conveniently available at the right time; in this case, a little silver hatchback Nissan that does not bother with the parking garage but just pulls up to the side where convenient moving-in/moving-out idling space is available. The door opens; Dusk's /wings/ get out before he does, one huge batlike wing stretching out of the car and then the other, more unobtrusively bound up into a folded position. For a given value of unobtrusive, at any rate. /He/ is soon to follow, looking considerably less stereotypically vampiric than usual; healthy colour in his cheeks, even a tiny hint of tan darkening his pale skin. Denim shorts, a green-and-white striped t-shirt, black-and-green Vans sneakers. "YO." Though his sharp fangs are still very prominent as he offers the twins a bright smile and upward jerk of a nod. "I'm early," he informs them, in case they hadn't noticed this. His dark eyes drop to Isra next, as he meanders closer, eyebrows lifting as he studies first her /wings/ and then the rest of her. His cheeks colour further. "Hey," is a little warmer than the call he gave the twins. "Sorry, am I interrupting lunch?" "Do you know how to fight?" Thing Two follows up his first question with. "Of /course/ she doesn't know how to fight," says the other, and then adds sheepish and a little hint apologetic: "-- I just mean. After your first hunt. It just seems kind of new to you." "You /should/ know how with all this -- I mean, who /has/ this been kind to? -- Heyyyyy," the boy turns to follow the car's progress, but smiles bright when Dusk gets out. Thing One's eyes light. "Oh /man/ oh man can you two be Batman and Batwoman for Halloween?" "Hello!" Isra’s reply is a beat late as she studies /Dusk's/ as if she has never seen anything like them--which is clearly ludicrous. "Lunch--oh! No, this is more like...my sixth meal today." Perhaps she is just not paying enough attention to the placement of her wings, but they unfold slowly until she catches them in her peripheral vision and--abruptly realizing she is blocking the entire path--rises to make way. "Isra," she adds, setting her largely untouched tray down on a wicker table. "My name, that is. I teach astronomy here." Then, to the twins, with a touch of embarrassment, "No, I have never fought anyone in any manner before I went hunting with you. Though...I think I gave a nurse a black eye when I was a child." She frowns, then quickly adds, "It was accidental." Dusk's eyes shift, watching Isra's wings as they unfold with an involuntary stretch of his own. One doesn't get /far/ in its stretching, restrained by tape to a mostly folded position, a splint taped along one of his long thin fingerbones. "Oh -- no, s'OK," he assures Isra when she starts to stand, shaking his head, "I don't need to go in. Not right now. I'm here for them," his good wing stretches to point at the twins with a wingtip, "and Jax. Just making sure nobody has to deal with public transit right about now." It takes a considerable while before he pulls his eyes from Isra's wings to the rest of her, cheeks still a little darker red. "-- I'm Dusk," he finally remembers to introduce himself. "I live with --" He points at the twins again. "All of them." Then to the twins, his easy smile returning. "Six meals, man, you guys have some competition. Think there's still any lunch I could mooch in there?" His wing folds back in against his back, draping capelike along his slim shoulders. The subject of fighting raises his brows. "We still on for tonight?" "Dusk's a vampire," Thing Two clarifies. "Pretty much the /best/ vampire," says Thing One, "and yeah, we are totally still on." "Would you like," asks Thing Two earnestly, "to learn how to fight?" Thing One curls a smile up towards the roof. "Or just get beaten up -- there's almost definitely still food but," he warns Dusk, looking back towards him, "you should be careful going in there, uh, in case you're not aware you /kind of/ look like a freak." "What was that nurse /doing/ to you?" his brother wants to know. "You are welcome to some of this falafel if you would like," Isra offers. "Unless you are an obligate carnivore, or..." She darts a bemused glance at Shane. "...hematophage." Her tail appears to be doing its own thing, swishing rhythmically just beneath the hem of her dress. "I think it would be /wise/ for me to learn how to fight. To that end I suppose getting beaten up is more or less inevitable, but I cannot claim to be overly sanguine about the idea. If I had a choice in the matter, I would rather be beaten by someone who is not seeking to inflict serious injuries." She stops short at the last question and wrinkles her hairless brow ridges. "To be honest with you, I am not completely sure. That entire episode of my life is a blur. She was /restraining/ me for an IV, I think." "No, not an obligate -- uh, I eat most things, so long as there's no dairy. I /am/ a hematophage, but more like a supplementary one." Dusk's eyes shift to watch the swish of tail. "I'm sanguine about everything," he says with a quick flash of sharp smile. He glances to the twins, a brief questioning look. "I think they're talking more sparring," he says carefully, "not getting beaten up just to get beaten up. But potentially involving some risk to -- protect from getting beaten up down the road." "I don't blame you, I hate needles," Thing Two says with an abrupt scowl. "We're --" Thing One hesitates. His eyes shift between Dusk and Isra, settling ultimately on the teacher. "-- starting kind of a. Sparring club. With everything going on right now it's --" "-- pretty wise for /everyone/ to learn how to fight," his brother finishes. Thing One nods. "More and more dangerous out there. You never /answered/," he adds insistently, "about being Batpeople." "They're already batpeople," says Thing Two. "Falafel's usually OK. At least it's pretty much on Pa's list of go-to foods." Isra blinks rapidly, then blushes so hard that color manages to show plainly on light brown skin, all the way up to the point sit her ears, pressed back against her skull. "I thought he was /joking/..." If there is more to this thought, she does not elaborate, but collects herself quickly. "I /figured/ you meant some sort of martial arts club, and I agree with your assessment of the necessity for self-defense. Is this a school-sponsored activity, then?" She picks up a few falafel balls with a pita and drizzles tahini sauce on it. "It /has/ been a while since I read those comics," she admits, "but I am reasonably confident Batwoman does not have horns or a tail, and I don't think either she /or/ Batman had wings. Which does not make such costumes untenable, mind you. All things considered, I would probably make a better /Demona/. I would just need a wig. And a lot of body paint." So saying, she bites into the falafel sandwich, for which long, sharp canine teeth are completely superfluous. "I haven't seen that show in forever. I don't remember Demona being as pretty as you." Dusk steps forward to take Isra up on the offer of falafel, though he doesn't make a sandwich of it. He just plucks up a ball between two fingers, stepping back to nibble on it. "Oh -- not joking, no," he allows with his own sudden deeper blush, "sorry, I --" His eyes lower, and he takes a bigger bite of falafel. "They both had /capes/. Wings double as those pretty excellently." "Could be Demona. /He's/ way too skinny to be Goliath, though." Thing Two extends his arm kind of /insistently/ to Dusk when he says this, "you're not allowed to fight --" "-- while starving," Thing One finishes. "Properly rested and fed sparring only." His cheeks flush darker when he looks back at Isra. "Oh, um --" "-- nah this is more like extracurricular," Thing Two says with a dismissive shake of his head. "We're doing it in the city. But people are welcome to come if they want." "If a teacher's there they'll even be /allowed/," Thing One crinkles his nose at the thought of the current restrictions on students visiting the city. "Pa'll almost definitely be there," Thing Two points out, "so he can be all -- /authoritish/." Isra stops eating and just stares in stark amazement at Dusk, as if no one has ever called her 'pretty' before--which does not seem all that implausible. "I...thank you," she replies at last. It is not clear, as she returns to her food, whether she is blushing /again/ or just recovering slowly from the previous round. For a moment, it seems as if she might have missed the twins slightly awkward reply, but then she nods--just a little, almost as if reassuring /herself/ of something. "I would like to attend this event, if you will have me." She smiles a bit self-consciously and settles her wings onto her shoulders much like Dusk has done. It does not look like a well-practiced maneuver for her. "I still need some persuading on the costume front, though." "I don't even know if I can do the costume thing -- /that/ costume thing, I mean, my roommates are already making me be Darkwing Duck." Dusk says this with enough amusement it is likely he doesn't really /mind/ this idea. "But gargoyles'd be pretty awesome, too. I bet Jax'd even know where we could get you a proper wig." His hand scuffs through his own shaggy mop of black hair. He watches the settling of the wings thoughtfully. "I bet," he says a little wistfully, "that the grounds here are awesome flying space. Gorgeous /and/ private." He /eyes/ the teenager's outstretched hand, mouth quirking upward slightly. "I ate," he assures him, "today. Won't be fighting on an empty stomach. -- What are you doing tonight?" This is directed at Isra. "We'll have you," the twins chime in unison -- or did one of them say 'he'? Overlapping words, it is hard to tell really. "And c'mon," says Thing Two, "awesome Halloween costumes are --" "-- Pretty much one of the best parts of being a freak," finishes his brother with a laugh. The laugh fades into an uncertain expression, a glance darted between Dusk and Isra. His teeth press down lightly against his bottom lip. "It's in the Lower East Side," Thing Two adds. "At a -- safe place." "I am sure this would be a splendid place for flying," Isra agrees, gazing out over the lawn at the lake and forest beyond, "and I mean to find out for myself--someday. I still have to train. But tonight? The sky is too hazy for stargazing, and I do not expect it to clear. So...nothing, actually. I am open to recommendations, and am /sure/ I will get a few from these two." "You don't fly here?" Dusk's initial reaction is startled, a confused glance thrown outwards to the expansive grounds. He looks back at Isra in puzzled silence, eyes flicking to her wings. "You don't -- fly," he says, quieter, his own wings shifting at his back to stretch just a little bit more. "We should. Some time. If -- if you'd like someone to train with." "Of /course/ she would," says Thing Two immediately. "Who wouldn't want to fly," Thing One interjects, quieter, his own smile smaller. "But we're not flying tonight. We're sparring. And you're /both/ coming with," Thing Two adds cheerfully. "I would love that," Isra replies, as if the twins had not answered for her already. "Indeed, it is fortunate that we are not flying tonight. That might be a painful proposition. Though, I suppose..." She tilts her head and allows a smile that shows only a bit of fang. "...Sparring might be, too! So, when do we depart?" Her tail is swishing again. "Soon as I get some /food/ in me," Dusk says, polishing off the last of his stolen falafel and licking his fingertips. "And, well, soon as Jax finishes his class; we're taking him home, too." He slips to the side, turning slightly to move sideways around Isra and up the stairs. His enormous wings pull in as close to himself as possible, though with the one splinted and taped in place there is only so much it can shift; one fuzzy-dark wingtip brushes against Isra's in passing. "Sparring's kind of painful. -- Flying, too, when you start, really. But they're both the kind that gets /better/ with practice." He flicks one last look to Isra, and then disappears into the building. To shamelessly MOOCH. Thing Two flicks fingers towards Dusk in indication. "We leave when it's time to leave." He drops his leg down to join the other on the inside of the porch railing, hopping down onto the porch. His brother swings his leg over, to slide down and join him. "Food first. /Then/ leaving." "Well, yeah," says Thing Two, "Fighting on an empty stomach is --" His lips twist downward. "Bad idea," agrees Thing One. "OK. Food /then/ fighting." He smiles at Isra, quick and small, and heads inside. Thing Two glances to Isra, then off in the direction Dusk and his brother headed. "Food and fighting and --" He doesn't finish this thought; he smiles, a little /brighter/, and hurries off in search of SUSTENANCE. Isra nods emphatically, one wing unfolding just enough to press back against Dusk’s. She makes a visible effort to not follow him with her eyes as he slips through the door. A visible but not particularly /good/ effort. "I will...make sure to bring a few protein bars," she says, as much to herself as to the departing twins. When the door closes behind them, she lets out a long breath and shakes her head rapidly as if she had hair and could shake it dry. Then she picks up her tray, sits back down on the steps, and proceeds to demolish the rest of her food in exceedingly methodical fashion. Her eyes, however, are fixed on the billowing clouds as they grow ever darker on the horizon.