ArchivedLogs:Meant To Be

Meant To Be
Dramatis Personae Regan, Teague
In Absentia	2015-10-04 "I wager I can be useful to the cause in one of two ways so, I try to be my best."
Location <BOM> The Music Box - Ascension Island
With its meager furnishings all left behind by the previous tenant, the cabin's white-framed twin bed has pink primrose stickers peeling off of the headboard, with a matching bedside table and dresser set that are feminine, childish, and in this case purely functional. The walls are white, as are the pink-trimmed curtains. For Jewel's part, much of the room's surface space, including the floor, is covered in many, often oddly shaped, glittering diamonds. Manipulated to look like everyday objects, great diamond candlesticks, teacups on saucers, knives, batons, and even utensils hang off of the tired decor like spanish moss. Many more pile up in the corners of the room or under the bed as tiny thimbles or crudely attempted figurines, and still even more appear more like traditional gemstone cuts or the great shards of crystal you'd find in an occult shop. Most are sparkling and clear but rarely, one shines crimson, burnt yellow, royal blue, or even purple-black. Being natural conductors of heat, the room of diamonds verges on uncomfortably warm. To combat this, the door is propped open with a hunk of gemstone not unlike a thick, palm-sized stalagmite. Legs bent in lotus position, Jewel sits in a square patch of natural light in the center of the small cabin. Jewel, the room's only occupant, wears flimsy grey shorts cut from a pair of sweatpants. To keep it out of the way, his hair is haphazardly pulled back. With a kind of animal-like stillness, the young mutant trains his attention to a makeshift work space. By way of a small rubber mat and mounted magnifying glass, he works on four thin diamond plates. Each is curved in a manner which might suggest greaves, or a vambrace. As he turns one in hand, dots of light reflected off of the plate dance above him on the ceiling and walls. Knock, knock, knock. There's a solid rap at the door, firm but unhurried. Outside, Regan is looking very much like fall has arrived; tall brown boots over her slim grey trousers, a knee-length russet sweater tied loosely at the waist over a ribbed turtleneck. She tucks a stray windblown wisp of hair behind her ear after knocking, hands folding neatly behind her back as she waits. Jewel's heavy-lidded eyes make their way over to the propped open door with a studied casual air. He doesn't show anything more than mild curiosity, despite never receiving visitors. Gently, the teen sets down the diamond plate and through use of his legs alone, rises up onto his feet. En route, he retrieves an over-sized hooded sweatshirt, which he pulls on over his head. Unable to conceal his surprise at finding Regan there, the teen blinks. "Hello there," he greets breathily, cocking his head back in a bird-like manner. "Hello there." Regan's echo of this greeting comes with a small smile, a small tilt of her head. Her gaze flits briefly over Jewel, then past him to the room beyond. The smile curls a little wider as she looks back to Jewel. "-- Goodness. You've been busy." She sounds rather impressed, really. Jewel glances nonchalantly over his shoulder, "Oh, /these/?" He lifts his hand up, palm upturned towards the sky and he gestures around them. "By all means, take what you want," he side steps in a fluid, dance-like movement, "Daken has it in his head to sell them through old contacts. Emphasis on old, I'm sure. Anyway, I haven't heard anything from him on the subject." As he speaks, he serpentines his way through the stockhold of gems and swan-dives down to retrieve something he thinks she might like, but thinks better with a frown and discards it. "Likely a safer source of income than what some people around here get into." Though this is said with an amused chuckle rather than any reproach. Regan slips into the cabin, letting the door fall back semi-closed against its large gem doorstopper. She drifts through the glittering room slower, fingertips trailing absently against a candlestick here, a teacup there. Her eyes linger, though, on the curved plates Jewel had been working on. "Is that functional? Or will it be?" The British teen lifts one up, pressing it to his forearm demonstratively, "They ought to shatter if you hit them just right." His eyes come up to meet Regan's, "But I haven't been able to make that happen." Jewel tracks the woman's migration. He wets his lips, on edge only out of an eagerness to please, and not be found wanting. "Anyway, that's the idea. Add some straps and a bit of padding, they fit quite easily under clothing. I was considering just cannibalizing some shin guards for it for a moment." Setting the piece down, he moves over to the cabin's old desk to draw attention over there. He fingers a thin blade by its diamond hilt and then beside it, a billy club of the same material. "Mmm. Useful." Now Regan sounds thoughtful, fingers tapping lightly against a nearby plate. Her slowly drifting path carries her over towards the desk, as well. She picks up the blade after Jewel sets it down, hefting it experimentally and turning it over. "I've noticed you've been pretty busy outside of here, too. You've been doing quite well, in training." "Heavy, isn't it?" Jewel's eyes flick to the sword. He bows his chin at the praise, speaking in a slow, purring tone. "You were right, when you said that branching out would come easily," He turns his body to face Regan's, gesturing vaguely to the diamonds that surround them, "I wager I can be useful to the cause in one of two ways so, I try to be my best." And then, he peeks up at her very hopefully, "Is that why you've come?" "In part, yes." Regan is still turning the blade over, though now mostly watching it glitter, throw refracted light against the desk. "I wanted to check in. See how you've been settling in. /I/ think your training has been going well -- but how you've been feeling here I can only find out by asking." "I like it here," Jewel answers in a breathy, downright vulnerable tone, "I'm meant to be here." He brings his hands together, wringing his fingers through one another for a moment, "I honestly can't imagine what my life would be if I weren't." Knitting his brow, he lowers his head some so that a shadow is cast over his eyes. He lets himself drift to that fantasy: rotting away in the custody of a megalomaniac father who despises him. "You're strong. You would, perhaps, have found your feet even on your own." Regan's eyes lower to the desk, her hand slowly drifting downward with the blade still held in it. "But I'm glad you don't have to." She pulls in a breath, turning the blade over once more. "You're not wrong, though. You are meant to be here. We all have something to offer each other." She sets the blade back down on the desk, folding her hands behind her back. "How would you feel about putting that training into practice?" Jewel remains still, but his eyes gleam. The teen nods simply, too enthralled to speak or even wet his lips. Around them, the diamonds continue to glimmer in stagnant, silent witness.