ArchivedLogs:Walking Unashamed

Walking Unashamed
Dramatis Personae Isra, Sebastian, Shane
In Absentia	2013-05-30 learning to be yourself
Location <XS> Lake
Bright, bright, bright; the lake glitters wide and expansive here, stretching off into the distance. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, it catches them all. Lapping at the rocky shore, its deep waters are frigid in winter and cool even in summer. A stone pier stretches out a ways into the water, wide and smooth, though often icy in winter. The water teems with life nevertheless, home to myriad species of fish that provide for ample fishing or just lazy watching on a slow summer day, for those who want to take a boat from the boathouse out to the center of the lake, or perhaps lounge on the pier and try their luck. It's night. Kind of /late/ at night, really; late enough that the mansion grounds are mostly deserted, given that it is past curfew and students are /required/ to be in the building by now. Mostly all students, anyway: the twins are actually /not/ rule-breaking but, given their odd physiology, have actual dispensation to sleep out in the lake instead. Not that they're currently sleeping. Probably they should be. It is, as mentioned, late. But instead here are twins: Sebastian is perched on the pier, legs dangling down into the water. He's /studying/ so might perhaps be forgiven the lack of actual being-in-the-lake; textbooks and laptop do not take well to being submerged. Shane is -- noooot studying. He also probably should be; between their time spent away running off to the ocean and their time spent involuntarily away at MURDERCAMP, both the twins are /far/ behind in school work. He is on course to fail every single /one/ of his classes, at the moment. Bastian is responding to this danger with extra credit work, extra hard studying, a determined attempt to test his way through to passing all his class load despite missing fully half the semester. Shane is responding to this danger with weed. At least he /has/ at some point in the past; the distinctive smoke smell is still faintly lingering, though his dip in the lake has taken care of some of it. He is in the water, moooostly, lounging with arms crossed on the stone beside Bastian and the rest of him submerged. "{I don't get why you care,}" he's telling his brother in quiet Vietnamese, "{You're going to be in summer school /anyway/.}" "{-- For /new/ things! I don't want to be in summer school for the /same/ things.}" Bastian has not bothered with any lights to read his textbook by; the moon is bright overhead and his night vision is excellent. He reads. He writes in a notebook that is currently resting atop his closed laptop. "{-- Are you really taking half the school to the dance?}" "{Only about a quarter.}" Shane's sharp teeth flash brightbright in the moonlight. His chin tips to one side, cheek resting against his brother's knee. "{Some said no. All the ones who /matter/ said yes.}" Descending from the mansion, Isra's gliding gait is distinctive from a great distance. She wears a white linen dress with a loose cowl neckline and an exposed back that does not interfere with her wings. The garment has no sleeves and only barely covers her knees, leaving her tail and elongated feet plainly visible. She carries a stack of flatish items, and a green shawl trails from her crooked elbows as though she has forgotten about it. By her usual standards, she is practically nude. She strides out onto the pier, talons clicking softly with each step, and stops a few feet short of the twins. "Good evening, Boys," she says. "I will not disturb your studies or your rest for long, but there is something I wanted to give you." Her spindly fingers separate the stack into two black nylon satchels. "Today's young stargazers have the benefit of any number of interactive electronic sky maps, but most mobile devices are not yet waterproof. Luckily, planispheres are." So saying, she stoops--wings spread slightly for balance--and offers the objects in her hands. The twins are glancing over in Isra's direction long before she nears, scent marked before they catch sight of her. It's apparently one they don't mind, though, because Bastian is turning back to his work and Shane is turning back to his lounging, at least until she draws near. "Professor," Sebastian seems a little surprised at being addressed, but his tone is warm and polite as he swivels his torso around to look at her. He's lightly dressed; dark shorts and no shirt. Shane -- it's hard to tell. He's mostly underwater. He might well be /actually/ nude. "What's a planisphere?" He doesn't say hi. Just sounds CURIOUS. Bastian pulls his legs up out of the water, tucking his knees beneath him as he turns to accept one of the objects, opening its satchel. "... Really?" His eyes are widening. "I mean would they -- is it bad if we just /keep/ them --" "We made a new bedroom," Shane explains cheerfully. "Pretty much nobody else can bother us in it. But we can't exactly store most of our shit there, either. UH." He's looking over Isra, now, more attentively. "Is it just me or are you kind of. Freakier." Bastian elbows him in the ribs. "This is /Xavier's/ people shouldn't have to cover up all the time." "A planisphere is a start chart" Isra replies, kneeling awkwardly beside the twins. "You rotate the two layers to align the date and hour on the outer edge, and this clear window in the middle shows you what the sky looks like--in the northern temperate zone, at any rate. If you want to go stargazing in the poles, the tropics, or the Southern Hemisphere, you will need different charts. So, not ideal by any means, but this is what I started out using when I was a child." "These should not suffer any adverse effects even from longterm submersion. For that matter, the satchels have mesh panels and so will not fill with water." Isra taps a small bulge on the side of the bag in Bastian's hands. "The compasses and red LED flashlights in that pocket are waterproof, too. I was not sure /how/ well you could see in the dark. Red light is best for preserving night vision." Shane's question does not make Isra flinch as it probably would have once, but her ears press back against her skull. "Yes, I am," she agrees gently, "and no, I do not cover up anymore, on school grounds or anywhere else. Besides..." She reaches up and explores the spiraling ridge on one of her horns--almost ten inches of backswept bone sprouting from her temples--with the tips of uncertain fingers. "I doubt very much if any kind of headscarf will disguise /these/ now. It is probably for the best that I stop hiding, anyhow." Tilting her head to one side, she studies the twins. "Would you, if you could? Disguise yourselves?" The thin bands of her irises gleam cat's eye green in the moonlight. "Of course," Bastian answers reflexively, sounding sort of puzzled that the question is even being asked. Shane's answer comes simultaneously, chiming in alongside Sebastian: "Fuck, no." The twins exchange a look. Sebastian shifts, dangling one leg back down into the water. Shane pulls himself a bit more /out/ of it, propped on one arm, his other lifting curiously -- questioningly -- towards Isra's horn. "They're kind of awesome," he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it, softly appreciative as his fingers uncurl. And then curl back again apologetically without touching: "Sorry, can I -- uh. They're just really neat." Bastian is adjusting the planisphere, rotating it till its date is correct. He looks up to the sky, looks back down at it. Holds it out, to show Shane. "Just -- wouldn't you want a normal life, if you could -- I want to be a doctor. I don't think Harvard accepts /sharks/." "Who the fuck has a normal life anyway." Shane's palm presses harder against the stone. He looks down at the disc, expression sinking into thoughtfulness. "How's it been? For you? The -- not-covering-up?" "It's...they're..." Isra does not seem /embarrassed/ so much as startled, and perhaps a little bit amused. "You may," she says at last, inclining her head. "They are just bone, really. Very strong bone...growing out of my head." Then, to Sebastian, "Both Cornell and Columbia have accepted at /least/ one gargoyle, even if they did not know it at the time. Besides, your application and admissions essay needn't be sharky if you do not wish it. For what it is worth, I will write as many letters of recommendation as you require." Isra pulls the shawl up over her shoulders, though she does not look cold. "Up until a few months ago, I had just assumed I would spend my life in hijab. I never expected to find an accepting community, and I certainly never expected to...become 'freakier.' Now, I suddenly cannot countenance going back, even though I have been looked upon with so much hatred and fear. Even though I have feared for my own safety." She looks down at her hands. The fingernails are meticulously trimmed, but thick and heavy. "But in truth, all of that has happened before, too, when I was not visibly a mutant. Bigots do not care if we are 'normal' or not; they see only through their own distorted lenses. Bending to fit their standards may keep us safer, for a time, but it does not change anything. I am a teacher now; if I can teach people something by walking before them unashamed, then I accept the risk it entails." "See," Shane says offhand, uncurling his fingers again to trace them curiously along the ridge of bone, "she gets it. Doesn't make a bit of difference if you hide and it might make a /tiny/ bit if you don't. Plus," His teeth flash at his brother; his fingers curl around the tip of horn before he drops his hand, "/fuck/ them." Which seems to be, really, his /most/ pertinent argument for not hiding. "They might /accept/ us but -- I mean, my pa's first school kicked him /out/ when they found out and he'd been going there two years." Sebastian bites against his lip, looking back down at his textbook. "S'other shit. Online classes. Whatever." Shane is returning to looking at the planisphere now that he has examined horns, because dude. STARS. He shifts the date rings, watching it change the configuration. "Did it hurt or anything? I mean, changing. We were always like this. I dunno what it's like to /grow/ horns or anything." "True, and I might get kicked out of my graduate program now," Isra agrees, "though I very much hope I do not. If it does come to pass, I intend to make some waves about it--if not for my sake, then for that of future students. If I never get my Ph.D., it will be no great tragedy. Science isn't about getting degrees, just like education isn't about making grades--those things are tools for measuring progress, not the progress itself. All the same, I will fight if I must to ensure that Bastian can become a doctor." She shifts her legs so that her feet dangle over the edge of the pier, and her tail brushes the surface of the cool water. "Yes, it hurt very much. The first time was much worse, I think, because I had no idea what was happening. They say puberty is awful, but I wasn't quite prepared." Isra stretches one wing out over the lake. It trembles in the faint breeze, as she clearly lacked the strength to hold it still. "The secondary mutations," she says, indicating her horns, "are merely painful, though...I /do/ wonder where it's going to stop." She shrugs and smiles a thin, wan smile. "I try to be a proper scientist about it." "It's not done yet?" Shane looks back up at the horns. Then at Isra's wing; its stretching puts a smile on his face. "I didn't know you could fly," he admits. Bastian eyes the trembling wing skeptically. "/Can/ you fly? I mean, it doesn't look like -- sorry," he cuts himself off with a blush. "One of our friends has wings like yours." Shane is still admiring them. "People always think of wings as feathery but he gives the /best/ hugs with them, it's like this warm /cocoon/." "I don't think it ever stops." This is softer, from Sebastian. "I mean. We were born like this but. There's things -- you're never --" His head shakes. "-- sorry no it's. Probably different for you maybe you're more. Human." "I cannot," Isra admits sheepishly, folding the wing back. "Or, at least, I have never really /tried/. I think...I am going to start training. Once I have built up enough core strength, it stands to reason that I should at least be able to /glide./" She meets Bastian's eyes, her gaze neutral and thoughtful. "In the truest sense, it never stops--thank you for reminding me. But that is the case for all humans, no matter what kinds of mutations we carry." Her brows wrinkle slightly. "Well, /almost/ all, anyway." "Gliding's still cool. I mean whoosh --" Shane spreads his webbed fingers, making a swooping motion through the air, "it's pretty much what we do in rivers, but in the air instead of in water. "Haven't you heard?" Sebastian's tone is light. He lies down, now, legs dangling back into the water and his back against the stone; the pier is still somewhat warm from the day's kind of excessive heat. "We're not humans, we're animals." "I'm the animal." Shane's teeth flash, silvery-moonlit in a sharp-bright grin. He pulls himself out of the water so that he can flop down on Bastian's other side, head pillowed against his brother's stomach. Unlike his brother, he has not bothered with clothes out here in the water, and the presence of TEACHER has not seemed to remind him that maybe he /should/. Bastian doesn't remind him. He just flops a hand down around the back of Shane's head, fingers rubbing down lightly against his brother's gills. "Maybe we all are. I don't know." He glances over at Isra. "Do you /feel/ any different. I mean. Not the pain. Just. Everything." "Biologically speaking, all humans /are/ animals," Isra muses, settling her wings across her back, "but I guess we are not talking about biology, are we? I do not feel qualified to comment on the social definition of humanity, but I also hold as suspect any rhetoric that seeks to justify systematic bigotry. History is full of it, and also full of people who have seen through it. I suppose...we have to be those people." She draws the shawl close to her chest and buries her nose in it. "I /do/ feel different, but that may not be the result of the physical changes. The world doesn't hold still for us to isolate our variables." She looks back up at the twins and cocks her head. "But regardless of the cause, I feel less like a case study and more like a person now--scared, confused, and constantly hungry, but a person all the same." "Hungry all the time?" This makes Sebastian look over at Isra again curiously. Head tilting a little to the side. "Do you need to eat more now?" "I think people are pretty scared and confused a lot," Shane says with a snort, tipping his head, too; his cheek rests against Sebastian's stomach so that he can squint across at Isra. "... maybe not so much the always hungry part. But you take care of that with /eating/." Isra sighs. "It is a ludicrously minor inconvenience, all things considered, but yes. Evidently, I have been undereating for years, and whatever else my body is doing now has only increased the demand. I just cannot seem to get three thousand calories consistently." She regards the twins and smiles--broadly now, showing far more teeth than she is wont. Her canines are longer and sharper than usually seen in humans, though hardly noticeable beside the shark boys. "I suppose that sounds like nothing at all to bona fide teenagers, but it has been a long time since my first adolescence. I will adjust; it is merely a matter of breaking old habits and making new ones, I am sure." Sebastian's head tips a little further back against the stone. He eyes those canines thoughtfully. "{... could hunt,}" it's a quiet absent statement in Vietnamese, his fingers drifting downwards against Shane's gills again. Shane is closing his eyes at this touch, relaxing into it, but his eyes crack open again when Sebastian speaks. He smiles, too. Bright. Toothy. "I know how you could get plenty of consistent calories." He nods towards her feet. "How fast are you?" "Fast?" Isra echoes with a touch of incredulity. "I do not make a habit of running when I do not need to, but I have outpaced everyone I ever wanted to run from." She shrugs. "Getting plenty of calories is just a matter of eating more--which really oughtn't be so difficult, all things considered! I imagine if I took up running, though, I would have to eat even more." "You don't have to take up running -- /much/," Shane says, and he's getting to his feet now in a quick eager hop. "Creeping around, mostly," Sebastian agrees, "tracking, being quiet. Sneaking through the dark." "You only run in the last couple moments and if you're working /together/ that doesn't last long." Shane's smile is staying, this time, still sharp. Still wide. "Even quicker with three than two," Bastian muses. "We're," Shane /announces/ this like it's a foregone conclusion, "taking you hunting." From his sudden influx of energy it might be surmised he means /now/. Isra blinks several times rapidly. "I...have never done anything like that before," she warns. "My presence may well impede your hunt--especially since I cannot breathe water or swim as you do." All the same, her ears are perking up so far that their tips brush her horns. "Though...it is a curiously appealing idea." Bastian grins, too, when Isra says the idea is appealing. It's a proper grin, bright and toothy as well, mirror to Shane's unlike his usual self-consciously closed-lipped ones. "It's pretty much the /best/ thing," he informs her. "We hunt on land, too. You know there's /hella/ fucking deer around here." Shane offers his clawed hands out to help the others stand. "You'll only slow us down at first." He doesn't seem bothered by the thought. "But then you'll learn." His smile stretches wider. "And then you'll fly."