ArchivedLogs:Concerning Rumors

Concerning Rumors
Rumors, concerns, and a technicolor pigeon
Dramatis Personae Ducky, Jackson
In Absentia	2013-06-07 Reports from nearby Westchester raise concerns about a mutual friend.
Location <XS> Art Room
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. Since her arrival at Xavier's School, Ducky has spent as little time in doors as she possibly could, facilitated by the fact that she doesn't have her first classes until the start of the Summer term. Today, however, she is shuffling her way through the halls, looking a little bit on the tired and disheveled side. She's dressed in a pair of worn blue jeans with faded grass stains on the knees and hems, paired with a standard gray school t-shirt, with a black hooded vest over top. Nestled in the hood of her vest, potentially trying to be at least mildly inconspicuous, is her gray and white dappled pigeon companion. Approaching the art room quietly, she knocks first, and then pokes her head into the room tentatively, looking around for a moment. "Ah, um, Mister Jackson? Are you, um, are you in here?" Ducky calls out, quietly at first, then a little louder. Jackson is totally in here, and not very inconspicuous about it, either. The glittery art teacher is -- well, /glittery/, not just in his person (bright yellow Little Miss Sunshine t-shirt, lightweight green capri pants, usually bright hair vanished -- his head shaved down to the skin to reveal an /also/ bright skull-tattoo of some fantastical creature, dragonfly wings, black panther body, heads of a goat, a dragon, an eagle, a segmented scorpion's tail) but in the colourful flickers of light that dance around the room. On closer inspection they are not so much just lights as tiny jewel-bright dragonflies, fluttering shimmery-iridescent wings in miniature flickers of colour, circling the walls, dancing around the ceiling. Jackson is /also/ dancing, though there is no music; he's tidying the room in preparation for summer, but as he flits from cabinet to cabinet to put away the art supplies he bounce-twirls-spins; he stops mid-bop to peer towards the door with a quick-bright smile. "Hi, yes, I'm -- hi! Ducky! And DuckyFriend." Yes, the pigeon gets a greeting, too. "How're you doing, hon?" Ducky steps the rest of the way into the art room, closing the door and leaning against it slightly, careful not to squish her pigeon against the door. She blinks curiously at Jackson's appearance, tilting her head curiously in a rather birdlike manner, her eyes kind of staring in confusion at the sparkling tattoo, but not questioning it. Since that would be rude, in her mind. Shaking her head, she frowns a bit, "Um. I kinda wanted to talk to you about, um, about Horus." She fidgets with the zipper on her vest, looking around the room, "Have you heard the reports coming out of the town nearby? The, um, the reports of the giant bird man? I, uh, I kinda wanted to make sure that Horus was, um, ok, back in the city? I mean, I know he was supposed to go back with you after the dance, but, I, uh," she frowns again, "I'm kinda worried that something's wrong." "Giant bird man?" Jackson has evidently missed these particular reports amidst end-of-year hectic and missing-student also-hectic. It puts a worried frown on his face, though. "I ain't heard -- what are they saying about him?" He might also have just jumped to /Horus/ because what other giant bird men has he met? His head shakes, though. "I mean, Horus came back to the city with me but -- he's flown out this far before, t'see the twins an' Taylor, he might've --" He leans his palms against the edge of one long table, setting down the jar of brushes he has been holding. "Is something wrong? I mean, is there /trouble/?" "Yeah. Police reports just started being released from Westchester, but, um, it's not good, from what I hear. They were passing it off as a rumor or prank at first, apparently, but, now they're blaming a flying mutant," Ducky explains with a sigh, looking up at Jax, concern written on her plain features. "I don't think it's Horus. I, ah, based on what he is closest in appearance to - he's a falcon. At least, um, I think he is closest to that sort of bird. Or a hawk, maybe, I haven't seen him fly, so I don't know his wing shape really, and," she shakes her head, "Sorry I'm babbling. Falcons don't normally hunt at night. And these reports are that something is snatching up pets - dogs, cats. Bit it's always at night." Ducky crosses her arms over her chest, more of a hug than a closed gesture, "I don't think Horus would do this. I don't know him as well as you do, I think, but I'm worried that he's gonna get blamed for it. And I don't want him to." "Snatchin' up pets?" Jax frowns at this, shaking his head. "No, you're right, Horus wouldn't -- that ain't like him at all. I mean, he loves animals but not to /steal/. An' he wouldn't be eating them or nothin', he don't even /eat/ meat." The frown deepens. "You're prob'ly not wrong that he'd get blamed, though, ain't so many birdpeople around. An' the cops in the city've already ticketed him /twice/, they'll probably just jump to --" He shakes his head, expression matching hers for concern, now. "... if there's another bird-person," he starts, slowly, "s'possible maybe you could talk to them, too? Or maybe your friends might see him around some time. Someone stealin' pets, they might be -- in trouble /themselves/, maybe they don't got much way to get food --" His fingers drum against the table quickly. Ducky actually looks surprised at the mention that Horus doesn't eat meat, tilting her head curiously, "Huh. He hadn't mentioned that, actually. Hadn't come up. But that means there's no way this is him. No way at all." Ducky frowns, ruffling her short tawny hair, "First thing I did was try and talk to the birds in the area. One finally got back to me in the middle of the night. Which is why I'm half asleep right now. Was an owl, said that there was a big bird that was carrying a dead dog. It had been perched on a rooftop, and then started eating it - screeched at the owl when he got close by. Eyes were, um, yellow green. That's not a normal color, I don't think, for most birds." There's a look of dismay at the fact Horus has been ticketed, "Wait - I thought they wouldn't ticket people if they couldn't help it. I mean, what?" She moves to lean against the table, "I can probably talk to them, whoever it is. If I can get close enough. Can't really do long distance, which sucks, but they may not want to talk to me. I can try, though?" Ducky looks a bit sheepish, "I, uh, haven't been off campus since I got here. People keep disappearing, and I, uh, I'm kinda a big chicken." "Technically they can't. I mean, it don't hold up in court. Don't stop individual officers from /trying/, though, and then they probably bank on it being more hassle to contest it than just to pay it. Which," Jackson says with a wry smile that suggests he is speaking from experience, "it kinda is." His nose crinkles up when Ducky mentions not leaving campus. "-- everything /has/ been pretty rough, hasn't it?" He lifts a hand, rubbing it at the back of his head. "Might not want to talk t'anyone, but it probably can't hurt to at least reach out and try, yeah? You don't gotta if you don't feel comfortable, but if y'want I could go out with you. I can't talk to no birds but I am pretty handy if trouble crops up. An' even if this person don't want to talk, might at least be helpful to /know/ what's goin' on in case someone tries pinning it on Horus." Ducky looks sheepish, "I haven't had it rough, I've been hiding here. It's just, uh, now that they got Peter back, and they found your twins, well, now Ivan's missing, they're saying. And he vanished right off the front gate." She ponders for a moment, adding quietly, somewhat out of the blue, "I'm glad that you managed to get your sons back safe. Hadn't had a chance to tell you that." She nods, at mention of going into the city, "I would like to do that. Go into the city, at night, if possible, since this is happening at night, I think whoever is doing it is nocturnal. There's no sign of them in the day time, only at night." Idly fidgeting her hands, Ducky looks up at Jackson about the going into the city, too, "I would appreciate that. I want to see what is going on, and keep people from trying to blame Horus, because, yeah, he's too much of a sweetheart to be doing this sort of thing. And I want to help this person too, because being alone and not able to talk to people, and scared is bad." "I didn't get a chance to thank you, either," Jackson says, with a slight blush. "That whole thing was -- thanks." It's all he says about the missing twins, instead turning his gaze up to consider the ceiling for a moment. "Scared is bad," he agrees, his pierced lips turning up into a lopsided smile. "And the world gives plenty'a reason for it, lately. S'good to -- to reach out. Maybe they'll want it, maybe not, but s'good to know there's folks that they don't gotta be scared /of/." He nods, looking back to Ducky. "I'll go with you, then. When's good for you? Guess with classes over your schedule'll open up a bit. I work Saturday nights but I'm free -- well, can /make/ myself free a lotta the rest of the time. Can crash at my place if we end up out too late, take you back here in the mornin'. The twins'll be there. Got a little'n, too." His hand gestures -- maybe a six- or seven- year old height. "But s'couch space most always." Ducky nods, "I actually don't start classes until the 21st, since I got here so late in the semester, I've just been doing glorified study hall and meeting with academic advisers and stuff. So I'm pretty flexible with timing." She looks concerned, "I guess any day of the week is fine, probably a Thursday or some quieter day of the week would be good - less people out and around to spot the crazy girl wandering around trying to talk to the giant bird man." The offer to crash at his place gets a nod, "I'd be ok with that. I mean, I was living in shelters - sofas are a luxury, Mister Jackson." The concern on her face returns, and she quietly sighs, "Sooner trip would be better than later, if you're available, I think. 'Cause the last thing we all need is a mutant lynch mob in our back yard. Not that I think I'll be able to stop them, but maybe they at least want to talk." "Sooner better than later," Jackson agrees, thoughtful, "-- Could do Monday or Tuesday? I'll be around. It's," he says this with a bit of a smile, "summer vacation for me, too, I got time." His hand skims over the top of his head. "Cuz you're right about the mob, don't nobody need that. Don't /they/ really need it, either, if they're new t'the city an' they don't know --" His head shakes. His smile curls just a little bit brighter as he looks at Ducky. "S'good of you," he says, warmer. "Not everyone'd want to take the trouble t'get involved." Ducky nods, "Monday or Tuesday works. Just let me know when you're ready to go." In an inadvertent mirror to Jackson's actions, Ducky ruffles her hair a bit, and the pigeon on her back huffs quietly, and starts putting her ruffled hair back into place. "I don't have the most utilitarian power, but this is something I can help with. I hope," Ducky says with a smile, blushing slightly, "I can't just sit back and do nothing. It just, it just doesn't seem right. Or nice." She pauses momentarily, looking around the art room, apparently for the first time actually taking in her surroundings, "Thank you for listening about this. I was just worried, and, um, I couldn't really think of anyone else to talk to about it." "You know, powers ain't all about flash and dazzle," the photokinetic says this a little bit self-consciously, but there's quiet amusement in it. "You look for ways to help people. That's more'n a lot of people do. And there's all /kinds/ of ways to do it in, sometimes it just takes actually botherin' to try." Jax bounces slightly up onto his toes with this thanks, brightening -- literally, a faint glow shimmering briefly around him. "Y'can come talk to me any time, m'always happy to listen. M'just glad I could -- well. I guess I'll /see/ how much I help, come Monday. I'll come get you. S'a long train ride out otherwise." "Thank you for that, sir. I don't really know how to get to Westchester - I wasn't really paying attention on the drive out here, so for all I know, we're back closer to Chicago than we are to any other city," Ducky offers with a shrug, "Directions aren't always my forte - I tend to get directions from birds." At mention of the flashy powers, Ducky tilts her head in the birdlike manner she tends towards, looking at Jackson curiously, "Um, I'm sorry if this is an odd question, but, uh, can I ask what your powers are? I know you kinda, um, flash when you get startled, but," she trails off, shaking her head, "Sorry. I'm just, well, curious. Don't have to answer if you don't want to. I know it's a personal question, and I'm sorry." She blushes as she back pedals verbally, fidgeting with a bit of paint stuck to one of the tables. "Birds probably know the quickest routes, at least. Though, uh," Jackson's nose crinkles up, fingers scuffing against his head again, "maybe not the most /convenient/ ones on foot." The question surprises him, evidently; his eye widens, eyebrows raising, but he doesn't seem /upset/ by it. "Oh! Oh, I um --" He turns his hand up and over, and above it blossoms a -- pigeon! It looks much like the one that sits on Ducky's shoulder, except his, shortly after creation, floods through with rainbow colours, feathers shading very un-pigeon-like pastels. "I play with light," he says. "Absorb it, focus it, bend it around. It's kinda the /definition/ of flashy," is added a little sheepishly. Ducky gasps slightly at the demonstration, staring curiously at the illusionary pigeon from all angles, blinking in surprise. "That is amazing," Ducky says quietly, glancing between the pigeon and Jackson, "Nothing wrong with flashy. Like nothing wrong with not flashy. That is so cool." She grins, her eyes on the pigeon, saying quietly, "Thank you for demonstrating. I'm just, uh, I guess curious - I've met so many people here, and the things that everyone can do is just, wow." The pigeon that had been sitting in her hoodie peeks out curiously, fluttering off Ducky's shoulder to sit instead on the table near the illusion pigeon, head bobbing about curiously. The illusory pigeon hops down off Jax's hand, turning its head to preen rainbow-feathers. "Everyone's got their talents," Jax says this lighter, slipping away from sheepish back to cheerful. "Around here they're just that much more eclectic. I don't think I could ever get tired'a learning all the new things people can do, though. Even folks with kinda similar abilities end up so /different/ in how they're expressed. I love teachin' art," he says with a flick of fingers around the art room, "but I think more'n anything else I love seeing people discover all this awesome stuff that mighta been scary at first and then just turns into -- amazing." Ducky leans down against the table, putting herself at eye level with the two pigeons, although she giggles quietly, and reaches out to poke her pigeon, who is still doing the head bobbing and circling of the technicolor pigeon. "I get that about this place. And it's nice. People are encouraged to be who they are, and not some sort of stuck up stodgy type of place. It's nice. And safe. I think I've finally realized that it's not all a big trap, or a hallucination." She smiles at the idea of art classes, and learning, "I hope I get to take a class with you while I'm here. Would be cool." She quietly watches the two pigeons, grinning, "That is just so awesome looking." The second pigeon walks its way over to Ducky, fluttering up to perch on her arm. The illusion-bird is weightless, just a very faint /warmth/ where it sits. "Not a trap," Jackson agrees with a quick laugh. "Though I kinda felt the same when I first showed up. Real glad I stayed, though. Think my life'd be -- somethin' else entirely, without this place." He looks away, to an easel with a half-finished painting of a dusty cluttered attic on it. "I teach a few. Um, the one you'll probably end up in with me ain't the one nobody really /wants/ to take," he admits with a crinkle of his nose, "but outside sex ed I do art and baking. Homework's way more fun when the homework is cookies." He drops his hand, fingers tapping absently against one pocket. "I should probably finish cleaning this place up," his gaze sweeps the half-organized room, "'fore it's summer for real. Mmm -- Monday, then?" Ducky raises an eyebrow, at the mention of what classes he teaches, managing to squeak out quietly, "/You're/ the sex ed teacher?" She blinks for a few moments, likely blushing a bit and turning her attention to the light pigeon perched on her arm, muttering quietly, "Hopefully I can get into the art class, too. Jus' saying." She picks her pigeon back up, and settles it into the hood of her vest, tugging the fabric up more to conceal the bird, "Ah, I should get going, and let you get back to organizing. I'll see you on Monday." Ducky nods, and starts to head for the door, glancing back at Jackson and the illusion pigeon, if it is still there, "Thank you, again." "S'me!" Jackson's smile is quick for this, a little /apologetic/. "But I promise my art an' cookin' classes ain't no awkward at all, to make up for it." He curls his fingers in a wave to Ducky, already turning to start putting supplies away again. "Any time, Ducky. I mean it. See y'Monday!"