Logs:Boundaries, Backup, and Hopefully Burgers

Boundaries, Backup, and Hopefully Burgers
Dramatis Personae Hive, Kurt, Marinov
In Absentia	2020-08-19 (Part of Final Boss: Xavier TP.)
Location <PLC> Meditation Room - Midtown East
This room is lined with zafus and zabutons in muted earth tones. There are no windows at eye level, but ample skylights and filtered LED strips all around that ensure the place is softly but adequately lit by day or night. Cabinets lining one wall are full of additional cushions, stools and other meditation paraphernalia, from singing bowls to incense. Despite the surroundings, Hive is not looking particularly peaceful. He's spent most of the day holed up here with a succession of the PLC residents and way too much coffee, and maybe it's that last showing now in the jittery bounce of his knee where he sits cross-legged on a cushion, the hard grind of his teeth. He's casually dressed -- jeans, a pale blue tee with Captain America's red white and blue star shield logo on the chest, his workboots neatly lined up outside the door. Another large mug of coffee by his knee. Generally people aren't encouraged to eat or drink in here. There are times when such rules fall by the wayside. He's lifting the mug in one -- also juuust a little unsteady! -- hand. Taking a big gulp. Digging his knuckles in against the hollows of his eyes. In Marinov's mind, the psionic digging has not -- been painful, exactly, but it certainly has not been comfortable -- a very noticeable intrusion where Hive's heavy mental touch pokes at this memory, probes at that unexplained gap. Possibly, in the wake of so much telepathic contact people neither noticed nor remembered, the obvious discomfort is preferable to the alternative -- -- but it's certainly not fun. It clears up as Hive drinks his coffee, the contact receding to leave Marinov's mind abruptly cleared save for a brief feeling of apology. Save for an introduction when Marinov arrived, Hive has said very little through this process, but now his strangely many-layered voice echoes in their mind: << Guess it's kind of fucked to ask if you're okay, but -- you holding up? >> Even though Marinov has their more stylish clothing now available on-site, without certainty for what to expect, they are again wearing their workout clothes: An 'All Cats Are Beautiful' tank top and a pair of specially tailored lycra pants. They're also seated cross-legged on a cushion, a tense expression on their feline face. Underneath everything, their keen senses picking up all kinds of odours and sounds that woud go unnoticed by most, and something wild that lives below their conscious thoughts that wants to express something. Their surface thoughts, though, are currently anxiously overpowering that. <<Fuck.>> "Yeah... I'm holding up. Just never-" <<What about Xavier?>> "-had anyone properly digging around in there before." Their tail thumps against the floor a few times quickly. "But if I am gonna get my mind probed, better I feel it. I was never... real good at the whole psychic defense thing." They fall momentarily silent, but their mind does not. <<Don't think anything weird->> <<What is he finding->> <<He definitely knows what everyone looks like naked->> <<Do you want to know?>> "But yeah. I'm fine." Hive's brows scrunch further. Teeth grinding harder. He sets his mug back down, slumping against the wall with a small puff of breath. In his lap, his fist clenches tight. His other has slipped into his pocket, returned just as clenched, curled around something that rattles quietly as his fingers roll repetitively over it. << Good. I'm sorry. Trying to take it easy but -- >> Another creaky grind of teeth. His shoulders curl a little tighter. There's something wry layered under the soft echo of his voices: << ... I'm no Xavier. >> It seems to take a concerted effort for him to unclench his jaw, open his mouth -- his spoken voice is a lot gruffer than the soft overlapping layers of his mental one. Likely less eerie, too, no echo here, just one smoker's-rough, oddly-accented kind-of-mumble: "Do you want to know?" Marinov grabs their tail so that it stops thumping, petting it in their own hand despite it starting to thrash a bit more while trying to escape their grasp. "Fuck, I... yeah. I mean, kind of no, but also..." <<need to know>> "Kind of yes. Like, what if I am overreacting I-" <<am stupid>> "don't have the best memory, yeah?" "And if he did to something to me..." A hot feeling begins to boil up and they take a deep breath, their tail stops struggling so much. <<10, 9, 8, 7>> The memory of a coppery odour, remembered all the more sweeter. <<6, 5, 4>> <<-should rip his fucking->> A slight flex of their claws. <<3, 2, 1>> "Then I think someone should put his ass in a wheelchair. Again. A fucking. Double wheelchair." "How'd you ride that. Like. One foot on each seat -- no. Wait. Guess that defeats the point." Hive's eyes close. His fingers unclench, shift, resettle this time with his dark lotus seed mala wrapped around his knuckles, thumb tracing against the polished beads. << Been finding shit all day. Wish I wasn't. Seems like everyone's got these -- >> His hand lifts, fingers wiggling towards his temples. "S'a lot of gaps. Missing pieces in everyone's time at the school. Only the time at the school, so far. Seems to leave other memories alone, mostly. Dunno -- if I should speculate on that." Very quietly. "You put the one wheelchair in a bigger wheelchair." Marinov is looking down towards their gripping hand. They let go of their tail again, letting it slip back out of their fingers. <<He's been fucking with my head.>> Their ears swivel back and their teeth show in an upset snarl. "That motherfucker. You can't just go around fucking with people's heads! That's my mind! I live there!" This last is all but shouted, and another countdown is initiated, but they only make it halfway before they say, "Sorry! I'm not pissed off at you! I'm just." The thoughts <<scared>> and <<angry>> layer over each other. "That's some sick sinister shit. He could do anything and we." They gesture towards their head and struggle to find a word. Kurt teleports outside the meditation room, standing there a moment. He’s dressed down now, wearing his ‘I LOVE NYC’ shirt by itself with red sweatshorts that ended right above his knees. << I don’t want to interrupt anything,>> he thinks in German, <<just a peak?>> He pokes his head in cautiously, politely. He is startled by the shouting, letting out an audible yelp as he closes the door. “Maybe I should wait until they are done...” He thinks aloud, although, his natural curiosity overrides this and he — slowly — opens the door again. “I-I apologize if I am intruding.” He shoots a nervous glance at Marinov. <<You’re scary when you shout.>> “But I-I, uhm, wanted to know when you’d be free next?” He diverts his attention to Hive. <<Do you really want to know?>> Hive's thumb continues to trace over the beads. His eyes stay closed, though even closed they flinch a little further shut at the shouting. << S'cool. You have a right to be angry. Telepathy's -- >> His teeth grind again. "Can be. A pretty big violation." He's slower to sit back up, reach for his coffee again. This time he just rests it on his knee -- it's not bouncing, anymore. "I want to be clear," he's starting to say, but stops, eyes shifting to the door even before it opens. He does take a pull of his coffee as Kurt looks in, eyes still closed as the teenager peeks inside. << Dunno. >> In both the students' minds, now -- his mental voice is an odd one, soft-whispered and echoing with a quiet overlap of many voices in unison, it is still somehow much clearer than his rough and poorly-enunciated speaking voice. << Kind of new territory for me here, too. I don't make a habit of -- digging. Trying to do it carefully. You want to sit? >> Marinov is up on their feet in an instant, whirling around to face Kurt. Their expression is fierce, their claws splayed, their hackles raised. But upon seeing it is just Kurt, they calm down and brush the fur on their head back in a casual movement. <<Look cool.>> "You startled me." They exhale. <<Be cool.>> "I'm a little bit wound up, man, sorry. Didn't mean to jump down your throat." They lower back down, gracefully lowering to sit back down on the cushion. "Yeah, I don't mean... I don't think telepathy is a violation. Like what you're doing is... I asked. I agreed to this. So..." <<To be clear what?>> Kurt’s eyes widen at the voice in his head, clearly unfamiliar with the concept. <<Right, okay... he just, talks here.>> He opens the door more, stepping in cautiously. “No throats were jumped, I understand your tenseness.” <<Only if I could help them...>> “Yes, I-I will sit.” Timidly, he walks over to them, sitting to the left of Marinov. <<I’m sorry Marinov, no one deserves this.>> “So, uhm,” he pauses awkwardly, “how does... this work, exactly?” <<Please don’t be painful.>> "I can talk here, too." Hive's forefinger taps rapidly against the mug. "It's -- a little painful, probably. I'm sorry. Marinov can probably tell you -- better than I can. I don't really feel it. From your side. The same way." His other hand lifts, beads still wound around, to skim his fingers through his hair, fingertips running along the side of his head. "To be clear," he says again, "I don't know if it's Xavier. I can't tell you that without a lot more -- work. Which I'd need to do anyway to get those memories back. But." The lift of his shoulder is small. "I can tell you that some telepath's bit holes out of a lot of minds going back -- a lot of years at that school. If I can help fill those gaps, I'll put in that work. And if I can help make sure they don't pull that shit again --" His hand thumps back down to his lap. "Do you all have a plan? Long term?" "It's like... do you ever get a kind of pressure headache? Like the feeling that there's something there trying to push out of your head? It's kind of like that," says Marinov to Kurt. They shake their head, "If it's not Xavier, then I dunno who could be removing memories like that." The image of someone in shadows reaching into their ear, pulling out a grape and crushing it between their fingers flashes through their thought. "But I am not a telepath. All that brain stuff is beyond me." They scratch under their own ear. "As for a long term plan. Fuck. I have been trying to think of something. Like. They've been real nice here, but they're not really set up to pretend to be a school. And play host to a bunch of mutant teens indefinitely. And like. This isn't some kind of Game of Thrones shit, where we just topple Xavier and take his throne." The image of themselves sitting in Xavier's wheelchair, one leg crossed over the other while wearing (very stylish) royal garb. "I dunno. You got suggestions?" Kurt’s brow furrows as they describe the feeling, and in his own mind he tries to visualize what that would look like — a balloon in his head inflating, pressing against his skull. “O-okay, I think I understand.” A shy smile spreads across his face. This quickly leaves as he hears the possibility of someone else. <<Telepaths are seriously scary.>> Kurt nods along to Hive speaking, but, his body visibly tenses up. <<Long term?>> He repeats in his head. The young mutant tries to envision his future, but, it’s blank. “I-I, uhh, haven’t really thought that far...” Embarrassed, his eyes avert to the floor. <<You went to the Institute to learn, to try and be normal. Where else are you going to have that opportunity?>> The words <<mutant>> and <<freak>> overlap with each other, and Kurt’s expression grows with sadness. "I don't know," Hive admits. "I guess I really should be thinking horses at the sound of these hoofbeats. There's -- probably not a lot of other telepaths hanging around your school long-term. I just --" A small shiver runds through his shoulders, and he shakes his head hard. "... don't really want to think about what it would take to." This just ends on a sharp puff of breath. His eyes crack back open slowly -- for the first time he actually looks at Kurt. His brows pull together, just slightly. He sits back up, elbows resting on his knees. "Yeah, I guess launching an armed revolt might not, uh, work out so good." His shoulder hitches. "Where else are you gonna have that opportunity? That's part of the fuck of this all, isn't it? Like -- if there were other schools..." The crease in his brows is getting deeper. "You tried talking to any of the other teachers yet?" "If there's holes in my brain, I didn't put them there. And I didn't ask for them to be put there. If anyone says, 'Well, I put holes in Marinov's brain because they asked for them to be there', it's bullshit!" says Marinov, scowling once more. "So. Whoever it is gives no shits about boundaries. And... I dunno. He's not a teacher, but I want to talk to Shane. But I just am kind of freaking out about like... uh." The thought of a hole in their head then overlapped with Shane's head, worms boring through. "I dunno how to explain. But like, Xavier's able to do kind of a lot, yeah?" They cover their eyes with their hands a moment. "Fuck... yeah. I don't really know where else I would-" <<Oh shit, am I never going to graduate?>> "even be able to attend classes. And like. The school is his fucking house, right? Even if he was dethroned... we'd just get fucking evicted!" Kurt turns to Marinov, nodding along with what they say. <<Shane?>> He looks down to think. His first time outside of his room, at the patio. He vividly remembers how hot he felt wearing all those layers. Shane is there, holding his thermos, talking to Kurt. I'm Shane, by the way. <<Shark dude! He seems cool. He's blue too!>> He lifts his head. "Shane sounds like a good idea." At the thought of eviction, Kurt visibly tenses -- remembering briefly his time homeless, but this goes away quickly when he remembers that he is at the PLC. "Maybe we should look at the bright side, jah? W-we can stay here now, where there aren't holes, and maybe if we get teachers involved, things will change and we can go back." He flashes an unsure smile. << I do like Ms. Savita's burgers...>> "His house -- yeah. Shit. That's --" Hive's brows hike up. His hand lifts to rub at his temple, then drops back to his knee. "... complicated." << Fuck, >> echoes softly in their minds. "Shane's a good --" A very small hesitation before he finishes, "-- man. Known him a long time, if anyone's been fucking with his head -- I'll let him know." This sets his teeth to grinding again. He downs the rest of his coffee. Sits up a little straighter. "Aright. Boundaries, backup, hopefully eventually burgers. You -- ready to get back to this?"