ArchivedLogs:Keep Calm and Cuddle On

Keep Calm and Cuddle On
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Rasa
In Absentia	2013-05-13 '
Location <XS> Great Hall, <XS> Treehouse
The largest room at Xavier's, the Great Hall is designed to hold all of the mansion's residents and then some. Built for the mansion's bigger functions, it serves as the school's dining halls on ordinary days, and ballroom when needed. On school days, long trestle tables stretch across the hall, high-backed chairs with plush cushions offering seating for the students. There's something lovely and safe about groups of people doing the same thing. Be it the fact that it provides one with people to relate to, or just plain herd instinct kicking in. Ivan is not generally one to indulge in the latter, and his presence among the other students is only one of loose association. But... some would argue that's probably exactly the way he likes it - on the days the often-bug-infested boy is not seen with one of his few close friends, he seems to seek out a spot only just on the peripheral of social situations. Not out, not in. Just there. Today is one of those days, certainly. Sitting at one of the otherwise empty tables sits Ivan, dressed in grey and blue plaid shirt, plain jeans and converse sneakers, staring somewhat listlessly at a sandwich in his hands. His black, slightly tattered backpack is propped up against his side and a few spiders creep restlessly over the table in front of him while other students' voices fill the air in happy chatter... but also excited whispers. Then, suddenly: "Ohhhh my god," A girl rushes by Ivan, to join one of the more popular kids' tables, where everyone huddles together to /gossip/. Ivan continues to stare at his sandwich. The girl continues, "Did you know. Rasa missed class today? And Mister Summers just sort of leaped outta class? Come on guys that's suspicious." Ivan's sandwich? May need some reconstructive surgery. He /stares/ at the gossiping group, eyes wide, face draining of colour. Ickle little spiders rise in chaotic little paths from his shirt collar as he listens. Oh so closely. He rises from his seat, leaving the book-heavy backpack to tumble to the floor without notice. What. A wild Rasa has been released into the great hall after persistently (but listlessly) complaining about being hungry again after hir arrival back to the school. Hir clothes are near tatters, hir pants having taken most of the damage, looking to have been stretched out repeatedly in uncomfortable ways. Hir torso is covered in the loose folds of an oversized shirt and jacket, hir hands hanging out of the sleeves in such a way that only the fingertips appear. Ze looks absolutely raggedy, covered in green skin and blue fur in splotchy and patchy ways, a tail of similar coloration hanging out the back of hir pants. Ze stands tense in the door way, eyes yellow and narrowed, searching and scanning. Food is noted. Good. But it is not primary concern. The primary concern is spied at length, a rather distracted Russian boy whose backpack falling captures hir attention. Ze moves quickly, weaving between chairs and tables until it's just not convenient anymore. Then, ze scurries up onto those tables, running practically on all fours, leaping from (mostly empty) table to (mostly empty) table until ze lands on Ivan's table and starts staring at him. Hir head tilts a little and ze moves forward to sniff him. "Good." Hir voice is altered, a strange mixture of German tones and deep American, twisted up and rammed down the throat of a being not quite large enough to house the longer chords. Ze reaches up a hand, one large thumb and forefinger, ending with a yellowish green talon, leading to two smaller, but thick fingers, equally sharply tipped. The hand is gentle, despite the fact that it wraps up in fabric at Ivan's shoulder, keeping a good hold on him. "Good." Ivan's attention is kept decidedly AWAY from the new arrival, his focus on that gossip-filled table sharp enough to cut through stone. But... then the people at that table go quiet, as their attention shifts to what Ivan SHOULD be looking at. And a second later, he is. If only because Rasa is now in front of him. Staring right back. In a response that comes several seconds later - as though it takes him a moment to figure out exactly what he's looking at - the spiders crawling around his neck SPREAD downward onto his shirt and arms, a few stragglers moving upward to scurry along his face. The poor sandwich he was holding, mangled from both of his hands digging into it, drops to the floor. /Crawling/ with little back-and-forth spiders that don't honestly know which way they want to go right now (showing their panic much more than their owner's face), Ivan swallows. Gaze unblinking and breath halted. Then, quietly and as his brows draw closer together, "... Rashka?" Rasa nods once, a deep, exaggerated gesture, making sure Ivan knows what it means, so it doesn't have to be repeated. Hir other hand comes up and curls around his upper arm on the other side, movements slow enough that the spiders have a chance to get out of the way and not be squished. Then Ivan is dragged forward into a hug, which is mostly hir shoulders, as hir legs are still very busy holding hir stance on the table ze is sitting on. "Mine," ze whispers in Ivan's ear as ze holds him close. Hhk! The hug seems to come as a surprise to Ivan, whose first concern seems to be to look /very confused/ as the spiders on his clothes and skin come to a /halt/ where they are, then simply start dropping to the floor with the help of hair-thin webby safety lines all around him. That is shortly followed by his own arms jerkily moving upward to join in the hug - for once, forgetting to be careful about skin contact. What the hell is going on. Eyes still wide, muscles tense, but aiding to SQUISH what he can reach of hir into that hug. Utterly protective despite the rest of him expressing caution more than anything else. "Yes. Yours." "Bad day," Rasa replies, holding him close, pressing hir cheek against his neck and cheek, plenty of physical contact. Hir mind is far too busy to receive much information from Ivan at the moment, and instead starts showing him hir day. From the fake smoking, to the fact that Norman Osborn knows nothing about Peter's disappearance, to the crazy hunger that took over, to the lake. From giddy freedom to life threatened fear, to frustration and all of the other emotions that crowd hir gray matter, it's show to Ivan, not forcefully, but like a television he can see with his eyes closed. Hir mind is very, very tired. Hir body, it remains clinging, tail wiggling in a happy/wary way. It becomes all too clear now that the spiders that have left Ivan have not left because he wanted them to. They move toward the closest surface to huddle under or the closest crack to crawl away into; free will once more! Ivan's attention for them is absolute zero. His only concern right now is to attempt to drag Rasa closer as he starts to receive that shared information, grip tightening with fingers curling into hir skin, as if returning the sentiment of 'Mine'. Whether he processes all of the information properly or not goes unsaid for the moment, as priorities zip around in his head to try and find the right order to be in. "You did well." He murmurs, finally, into the side of hir head. Shifting his weight to turn and attempt a step back. Off the table with you. "You are safe. Come." "Need food. Need food and safe place. Need you, food, and a safe place." Rasa grips Ivan tightly as he starts to back up, legs reaching out to wrap around his torso and cling to him more, before finally relaxing and starting to put hir feet on the ground. Hir shoes are gone. They were just flip flops anyway, but whether they got lost before or after the motor cycle ride is immaterial. They are gone. They wouldn't have fit hir half morphed feet anyway. << She told me you were captured. No one is allowed to capture you. >> "Is the dorm room safe?" Ivan tries at first, under his breath, only just loud enough for Rasa to hear. He inhales sharply in surprise when ze goes and WRAPS around him, but continues back, persistent to get hir moving somewhere else where people may or may not be staring at the two of them. Okay, yeah, they're definitely staring. At least the gossiping has stopped, making way for stunned silence. Somewhat similarly, Ivan's caution and iital surprise makes way for determination! Drag, drag. Away. Mumble against Rasahead. "I am not captured." In case that was not clear. "I promised Peter I would be /safe/. So I am staying safe." Peter's promise to be a safe danger bro as well is decidedly not mentioned, but a small amount of bitterness in his tone may very vaguely hint at it. Then, matter-of-factly, loud and clear as if he's reading from a bullet-point list in his head, "We will go to my dorm room. And you will stay. And then I will get you food." "No. No no no." Rasa does not seem pleased to think of the dorm room and hir mind is such a mess, flashes of images of Ivan's eyes and the beasts hunger, the teen averting hir own eyes during this time. "He knows your name. Your dorm is a place to look. No. Outside. Treehouse." Ze is dragged along well enough, keeping hir head pressed against Ivan's neck, even though the rest of hir turns in the direction they are walking. << I am not very safe right now, I am sorry, but I am safe for you. >> "O-okay." The tone of someone who is content enough to go with the flow, despite having very little clues as to /why/ he is doing so. Ivan presses his own face onto the top of hir head before he starts moving properly. Eyes narrowed as he attempts to filter through information provided. What to keep to mull over later, what is important /right now/. Sorting. "Don't be sorry. You cannot be sorry. You are /fine/." Trying to convince himself as much as hir, chances are. His gait is steady as he starts toward the door leading to the back porch - and subsequently, the school grounds and tree house in the large oak tree. Only when they reach the base of it does he attempt to let go, and only then after another TIGHT squish hug. "What do you want. I will get you it and come back. Very quickly." <XS> Treehouse Built by enterprising students of yesteryear, this treehouse has weathered generations of Xaviers' students coming up here to study -- or escape from studying. A cozy retreat, its wood planks are sturdy and well-sanded, fit snug together to keep out draft. Snacks occasionally find their way up here, and the roof keeps the rain off well enough to pass a night -- so long as the teachers don't catch any students at it. For anyone agile enough to make the jump, a lucky leap juuust might carry them from here to the school rooftop, so long as they're careful of the drop... "Meat," Rasa replies, head bowed. "Blankets. Sweets." Hir face turns up toward the sunlight as they step outside, hir hair pressing against Ivan instead of hir skin, muting their connection. When he hugs hir again, it resumes, briefly, but Rasa is still very guarded. Ivan's eyes stay /glued/ on Rasa, only briefly darting to look across hir body because what in the world what the everliving-- focus focus /focus/. Okay. "Go up. I will come back." Meat, blankets, sweets. Mental notes made, he turns and just /leaves/, briskly, without another word. Good byes were never his strong point, but apparently be-right-backs aren't either. "Milky sweets," Rasa calls after Ivan, frowning, still very strange in appearance. When Ivan is out of sight, ze has to find something to occupy hir time. Ze takes to climbing the oak tree in an unorthodox manner, using the borrowed talons and unusual grip to scale the bark without the usual ladder, the bark feeling good under hir nails. The tail comes in handy too, as ze continues up the outside of the treehouse, swinging from branch to branch until ze lands on the roof, looking out over the grounds, waiting and watching for Ivan, tense. Ivan takes about as much time as can be expected of a person running around, worrying and carrying stuff all at the same time! He is maybe even a /little/ faster due to his tendency to maybe /overworry/, but there is no way in hell anyone's going to convince him, right now, that he is caring too much. This is EXACTLY THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF CARING. Upon his return out of the building, beelining /directly/ for the oak tree, a look of concern crosses his face. Not because of the current situation, but... because of the ladder on that oak tree and the fact that he's gathered two arms full of stuff -- a duvet from his room, a plastic bag hanging off his arm, stuffed full of still packaged sandwich meat pilfered from the kitchen, and a smaller bag filled with chocolate. It's /sort of/ milky. Kind of! Wellp. The duvet is thrown over his shoulder, arms snaked through bag handles to let them dangle off of his wrist, and he BRACES HIMSELF, chest puffed out and shoulders pushed back-- before he starts the climb. Unsteadily but /very/ careful. Rasa climbs down face first, fingers and toes gripping the tree as ze does. Ze uses hir tail to wrap around the blanket and pull it off of Ivan's shoulders, keeping it in a lump behind hir back before reaching a hand out to take one of the bags. "Here, I will help." Fingers worm carefully around the bag handle of the chocolates and lifts them to help Ivan climb better, then ze backs up and into the the Tree house, beginning to NEST. The blanket is spread out, then folded back upward, waiting like a fabricky venus Ivan trap, with a tempting Rasa in the middle. O-oh, a Rasa. Hello. Ivan cannot NOT stare, pulling himself closer to the ladder when ze appears. HELLO STRANGE RASA. Don't mind the nervousness that's starting to crop up on Ivan's face. One of the bags gets shake-shaken off of his wrist and handed over, before he snaps his attention back onto the ladder again - SNAP, like a MAGNET - and continues semi-clumsily upward. Once he reaches the top and finally manages to get inside, he wanders /right for/ that venus Ivan trap, hands fidgety by his sides. "Rashka." He is still quiet, but it's a /gentle/ sort of quiet now. "You do not look like you." Rasa makes grabby hands for Ivan, not content until ze has wrapped hand around some limb of his. "I know." Ze swallows hard and hangs hir head a bit, hir shoulders hunching inward. "Can't get my head straight. Holding to things - tight. It's keeping Wagner around because he is nice and useful and good, but Goblin is not going away. He's just there. Here." Ze gestures to hirself in a small motion. Whatever inklings of doubt may show through in Ivan's expression, they do not make it through to his movements. He /thumps/ down onto his butt next to Rasa, silent just for a moment. Allowing whatever part of him to be wrapped around with seemingly not an inch of protest. Just /thinking/. His face neutral save for an occasional eyebrow twitch of concern. Then, very quietly as though he suspects it may not be of much help but needs to be said /anyway/, "But you do not need him. You need /you/." "It is like your bees, Ivan," Rasa admits, snuggling down to lay hir head in his lap, pulling the blanket up around hir shoulders carefully, not wishing to snag it on hir sharp talons. "Sometimes there's just too many of them with information to process. Sometimes, it is easy to ignore." One hand moves to grip his knee gently. "Remind me about me?" There may be-- some noises. Somewhere. Of insects /somewhere/ creeping around in the wood of the tree house collectively stirring all at once. Maybe it was the WIND, though. Butprobablynot. Then, silence again. Ivan sits very, very still now, eyebrows knitting together as redness starts creeping over his face. Everything is confusing but there is also a Rasa and a Rasa is good. It's a fight between deeply rooted concern and something entirely else. A wall gets stared at. Furiously. Um. "You are /you/." He starts, gaze slowly trailing downwards to hir face. His words trickle out sort of slowly, like every word he says is closely inspected inside his head before it manages to get out, "It does not matter what you look like, if you are yellow or bronze or like a book with all of the letters, you are there under it. Strong. Making a road-- path for yourself. Learning. Not afraid." One last word is added with a lowering of his brows, like it's somehow of extraordinarily great importance, "/You/." Rasa rubs hir cheek against Ivan's thigh, the movement more cat like than human, focusing on the rubbing the edge of hir mouth, hir teeth pressing the hard sides of fangs against the fabric. "I... am afraid. I got lost and everything was wrong and bad." Ze turns hir head to sniff the smell left behind by the rubbing then settles in closer, more relaxed. Ze snakes a hand away from Ivan's knee and starts patting around for one of his hands, to hold. The movement is blind, but gentle. In response, Ivan's hands /zip/ up from where they are and BOTH get offered to Rasa. Whichever one you want. Take it. Or both! He may be /slightly/ on edge; for a variety of reasons! Teeth, talons only being a part of that. It's not-- all bad. Not by a long stretch. But it IS all unfamiliar. Focus. Focus focus. A momentary expression of panic is wrangled back into /thoughtfulness/. Ponderment! Still peering downward, briefly biting his lip, he mutters, "Rashka. What makes you happy?" "Me. Happy." Rasa considers this for a moment, those thoughts apparent to Ivan when ze takes his hand, hir mind trying to find anything good. It's a blur of images, recent events, some of the more scary ones coming to mind first, but then, things start to slow down. Soon, ze's remember sleeping next to Ivan, the way ze draped across him at first, then how they woke up as two cuddled beings. Ze remembers learning more about Shelby, bouncing off her solid sense of identity and femininity, even if it didn't involve anything pink. Ze remembers hir first kiss with Ivan, how it was AWKWARD, but being so close to him was comfort embodied. Ze also remembers the twins coming back to the school, a brief flash of hir kiss with Shane from hir point of view, then moving on to the excitement ze felt at the party - before things got weird there too. << People make me happy. Not... like they /make me/ anything, but their existence. Caring for each other. You. You make me happy. >> Ze peeks an eye open, still infested with yellow, darkness tinging all the edges of hir memories, threatening to close in with the difficulty they've all experienced lately. << What makes you happy, Ivan? >> Ivan's response to the influx of thoughts is outwardly hard to see. Inwardly there's a certain amount of unease, but only marginally-- the kind one might feel upon accidentally overhearing something they shouldn't. There is the overwhelming need to /stay calm/, /stay focused/ on the matter at hand. Suppressing anything else that may get in the way of that. Rasa's hand gets a squeeze, while his free hand slips sloowly to rest on the side of hir neck. He finally cracks his day's first smile, upon mention of him. Continuing to keep an eye on Rasa, yellowed, strangely unfamiliar eyes or not. "I..." He starts to answer, then, every word preceded by a Russian one in his mind, "You. Friends. Family. Simple situations. Complicated people, in simple situations." << And borsh? >> This /slips/ his mind rather than being offered on purpose. Possibly to avoid the an age-old Russian stereotype. Alas. If Rasa's privy to it, ze may get a brief /flashing/ of various Russian foods he is apparently just now realising he misses. Oh, simple joys. "I'm sharing with you, Ivan. I want to share, if that's okay." Rasa releases his hand when he is uncomfortable, allowing him to pull away if he wants to. Ze turns hir hand to rub hir knuckles lightly against the inside of his palm, not wanting to give up the contact. As ze lays there, splotches of pale skin start to appear, hir face taking on a little bit of the shape of Ivan's, but not wholly, as there is still so much noise in the back of hir mind, a gnawing hungry feeling ze can't quite shake. Strangely enough, the talk of food calms hir mind a little, and ze dwells further on the memories of Ivan's home cooked meals. Nnnoo, hand, where'd you go. Ivan, now hunched over a bit, grabs Rasa's hand right back again. Pet with thumb, /squeeze/. Fascination crops back up into his mind as Rasa starts to change physically, but at least this time there is less /unease/ about it all. It's just... watched. He breeeaathes in. Determined! "I will get used to this /kind/ of sharing." An unspoken promise, from the sounds of it. Then, pushing its way to the surface past various foodthoughts, somewhat apologetically, << ... I am tired. >> And he looks it. Comfort helps, but the simple fact of the matter is that with worries about Peter, Jackson, the twins and now Rasa? His mind is struggling to keep up enough to speak /or/ think coherently. "Maybe we should sleep." Rasa starts to sit up, head bowed. "Sorry about today. I just... I just needed you for a while today, to myself." Ze gives a dry chuckle, still holding Ivan's hand, looking around the treehouse. "This was a silly idea. Do you mind if I come with you to your room? I... I understand if you want to go back to class." Ivan shakes his head! Shake shake. "No sorry." He shifts his weight and begins to get up, making sure to be slow enough that Rasa's head doesn't just DROP. That would be bad. In fact, he offers hir both of his hands to help PULL hir upward and back onto hir feet once he's up on one knee, his smile now bright. "I do not /care/ about class." He is a REBEL, now. "... I will... tell them I am sick. On the way to the room." Okay. Maybe not a rebel, /as such/. But this is still a first! Rasa darts forward and kisses him lightly on the lips before pulling back sheepishly, hir movements still feral and unfamiliar, now to hir recovering mind. Ze takes a deep breath and grabs up the blanket and the bags of supplies, bundling them carefully and making hir way out toward the roof of the school. "I will see you inside then." Buh! Surprise kiss. But a good surprise, Ivan's expression hints, happiness spreading more easily to his eyes as well. Nod! Nod nod nod. "Yes." All of the affirmative answers! He waits until ze is out of sight before breathing very deeply in, then exhaling equally slowly. The stuff that goes on at this school. And in this /country/. It's a handful. But he'll /take it/. Gladly. With that thought, he's off.