Logs:Of Parents and Performances (Or, Family Weekend)
| Of Parents and Performances (Or, Family Weekend) | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae
Astrid, Kyinha, Jax, Kavalam, Winterses & siblings, Nessie & parents, Matt, Samara's parents, Lucien, Tomas & aunt, Marinov & Parents, K.C., Maya, Tian-shin | |
| In Absentia
|
saturday-monday, oct. 10-12. xavier's family weekend. "It doesn't usually go anywhere near this smoothly." |
| Location
Xavier's School | |
saturday. 9:35. back patio. It is the first official day of parents week and Astrid has found some time first thing in the morning to really focus on what is important: skateboarding. Her Pops won’t be able to make it, but her Moms will show up the next day. So she’s trying out some trick she’s been working on that could be recorded and sent to him. Freestyle skating has become her recent obsession and knows her Pops would find it hilarious. Who even attempts those old tricks anymore? Today is the casper slide, and she’s getting very close to nailing it. The back patio has plenty of cement space to reach speed, popping the board up into a kickflip only to stop it mid flight once it spins 180 degrees. Her front foot is hooked under the top of the board by the truck and her back foot presses down on the bottom of the back lip, which is the only part of the board that touches the ground as the momentum pushes both ride and rider forward. Sliding a little over two feet, Astrid flips the board back over, and lands the casper slide for the first time. She is grinning from ear to ear, both shocked that she landed and disappointed no one was around to see it happen. If no one saw her do it, did it really happen? Who would believe her? Another attempt is made, but this time she lands funny as the board is flung forward and she backward. The fall is painful, but not to an extent to cause any concern. Still, she gives her extremities a quick check to make sure everything is exactly where it should be. Ankles? Check. Knees? Check. Elbows? Check. Wrists? Right wrist? Oh… it shouldn’t bend that way. Not at all. A knot quickly forms in her stomach as nausea kicks in. Staring at her crooked wrist and trying to hold down her breakfast, her flesh slowly begins to disappear, melding into a gaseous substance. “Oh fuh....” she quietly mutters before blacking out, once again missing the explosion that immediately follows. --- saturday. 10:45. kyinha's room. Kyinha is sitting in a crumpled heap on his bed, the food he'd brought up untouched on his desk. "It wasn't an order," he says mildly, "it's never an order, but..." His shoulders give an exaggerated shrug, hardly necessary when speaking to someone who can see the nuances of his rueful expression despite the near-featureless black of his face. "I suppose he is right. We always need all hands on deck for these things, and I don't want to leave the rest of you scrambling, not after that whole..." He mimes an explosion with his hands and an unvoiced 'poof' backlit by the fiery glow inside his mouth. His right hand ends palm-up, extended to Jax, faintly trembling. Jax's brows have been knitting deeper and deeper through this. The stiff set of his shoulders and press of his lips, his restless shifting in his seat, are far from easy. "I know it's your call, but this -- hngh. All hands on deck -- but only if you hide what you are? What kinda message are we sending to --" He reaches a hand -- fiercely warm, steadier than Kyinha's -- to close around the outstretched one. The background draw of his power feels stronger at this range, a subtle but insistent pull that tugs at the harbored energy within the other man. "Ain't nothin' feel *right* about this, sugar." The shaking eases. Kyinha looks up at Jax, wide-eyed. Then his hand closes around the other man's, tight. "Hard to be a good role model when I'm ashamed of...this." He looks down at his free hand, impossibly dark, like a void given human form. "I'm always so ready to cave and rip out half of myself for someone else's comfort. But maybe..." The firelight spills from his mouth again as he licks his lips. "Maybe I'll fake it, this time. And to hell with what Charles thinks." --- saturday. 11:05. grounds. Lael sits cross-legged in the grass, staring across the lawn at the front entrance to the mansion where new arrivals for Family Weekend continue to spill from their cars and embrace waiting students. "S'a long way from them to come, even if they wanted to," he's saying, his hair squirming unhappily. "They could make time but..." He trails off, studying Kavalam pensively. "I don't reckon it helps much think about better and worse reasons,. In the end, they ain't here." Kavalam isn't watching the stream of new arrivals. His eyes are turned up toward the sky overhead, hands folded behind his head. "I am sorry," sounds sincere enough, "It is --" There's only a brief pause here, his jaw tightening before he continues. "Maybe they have reasons. No easier though, no? We don't have to stay here." There's a brighter hopefulness sparking in his tone as he props himself up on an elbow to look at Lael. "There is one crafts fair in Dumbo this weekend. Better to have company there than see Mr. Miller drone on about the American Revolution anyway, no?" At the entrance, a sudden high pitched squeal announces Naomi’s appearance, running as fast as she can along the sidewalk to a beat-up Corolla. Beside the car, her siblings are waiting. Naomi leaps to embrace them both. “I can’t believe you’re here!” A moment later Naomi is running again, dashing across the lawn to Lael’s side. “They’re here they’re here they actually came, Hannah and Zeke drove all the way up -“ Naomi stops talking just long enough to catch her breath, looking only at her brother with wide, bright eyes. “This is going to be the best weekend since… forever.” --- saturday. 15:10. stables. The well-coiffed white couple drifting through the stables bear no resemblance whatsoever to their student here past the surname they share. The Lavoies have stopped by a tall white filly, stopping to look into her stall appreciatively. "{I am so very glad,}" Therese Lavoie is saying to her husband, "{the -- influences he was surrounded by before, well. Thank goodness there's a bit of respectable --}" This is cut off by the banging open of the door, a skittering shuffle of steps ruffling the hay strewn about the floor. Nessie is bright eyed, bright smiled, standing tall at the tiptops of her many clicking legs; though the parents she has in tow are very much human-looking, the enormous tentacled ink-skinned young man whose hand she holds is not. "See mama so swank you have no idea -- oh! You're Marcus's parents, right? He's brilliant you must be proud." Broad and large, dressed in a black tee with WHITE LIVES MATTER TOO MUCH printed across the chest, Taylor is content to be towed, cheerful in this impromptu tour of familiar old stomping grounds. "Oh damn, yo." One slender serpentine arm lifts in a wave. "She's right, he's a real baller." Both the Lavoie's eyes have gone very, very wide. They stare from Nessie to Taylor and back; Nessie's parents barely seem to register in their awareness. "I -- am sorry," Guy eventually manages, "you are -- friends with our Marcus?" --- sunday. 12:20. classroom. The Multicultural Seasonal Diorama set up in the back of this classroom honestly looks quite a lot like a Halloween/Thanksgiving decoration display at a small-town grocery store. The history teacher in charge of explaining it has been going on at length about how the school uses both natural and cultural milestones throughout the year to enrich the educational experience of their students and help them ground their knowledge in the real world. "Whose cultural milestones are you using, exactly?" David Māhoe asks flatly, eyeing the tissue puff turkey in the display. "Well..." Mr. Miller hesitates, his eyes skipping between the unimpressed brown faces of the Māhoes. "Each faculty member is encouraged to draw upon his or her unique cultural background and to engage the students about their own. We appreciate that America is a nation of diverse heritages." He's warming to his reply now, looking pleased with his angle, "For example, in honor of Columbus Day, my American history classes this coming week will focus on the legacy of the Age of Discovery in the New World..." Kiana Māhoe's dark eyes narrow. Beside her, Luna winces and takes hold of her arm gently, but she pulls free of the diminutive Japanese woman's grasp easily and takes a swing at the teacher, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw and knocking him back into the Multicultural Seasonal Diorama. --- sunday. 14:55. ground floor hallway. The Woodwards and their elementary schooler have been following their older son Tom around the mansion with the confused enthusiasm of new Xavier's parents as yet unaware of the school's true nature. Now, though they are unwittingly headed toward a small knot of physical mutant students' parents having a lively chat in the kitchen about their children's respective experiences and whether the school is doing right by their needs. Matt is out of his wheelchair today, though to judge by his slow, laborious progress on foot this is not necessarily because he no longer needs it. Nevertheless, he has a dazzling smile plastered on his brilliantly made-up face as he intercepts the Woodwards and their bored children. "Oh! So lucky that you are here," he cries, clearly delighted. "Unless Tom has pre-empted me here, I have got quite the surprise for you! Come, come along, if you please." He ushers them back toward the foyer, but stops just short of it in front of two ordinary-looking wall panels. "Behold," he tells the Woodwards conspiratorially, "you'd never know it at first glance, but..." He taps a button on the wall and the panels slide smoothly open to reveal the capacious elevator. "...this building is accessible!" The youngest Woodward, at least, seems delighted by Secret Elevator, while the parents blink nonplussed and Tom rolls his eyes. "Now then," Matt continues, sweeping an arm grandly into the compartment, "I have a hunch Millie might enjoy joining some of the other younger siblings at the crafts circle in the art room. Shall we?" --- sunday. 16:05. back patio.
Her husband Owain nods his grim-faced agreement. "I'm sure there are students who can handle this much freedom, in their studies or their socializing, but it's no place for a child with autism." He shakes his head, and drapes his arm across his wife's shoulders. "We still think it might be best to transfer Samara to a residential treatment center." Lucien lifts one eyebrow in response to this, his hands tightening fractionally around the insulated thermos he holds. "I'm sure it comes a terrible shock to hear this, but one day your autistic child will be an autistic adult." His head inclines only slightly, his voice aggressively mild. "If you still want a daughter in your old age, you might reconsider your attempts to torture it out of her." --- monday. 10:00. athletic complex. Tomas had been showing his aunt around the school, and introducing his teachers to her, he was rather nervous through this whole ordeal his anxiety increasing, as he walks down the hall a few lights near him flicker, this only feeds his anxiety. They eventually make their way to the Yoga studio. Signing as they approach: " and this is the Yoga studio, where my Meditation class is" Tomas signs to his aunt. " How exotic" responds his aunt, causing Tomas to sigh. They enter the studio where a middle aged white women with brown and blonde highlights wearing a loose fitting tunic, she is walking around talking to the students and family as the two enter, a few lights flickering as Tomas enters, he taps his foot nervously in response. The teacher senses Tomas' anxiety as he enters and excuses herself from her conversation. She smiles as she aproches the two. " Namese I am Ms Lauren, and you must be Tomas' Aunt?" she said placing her hands together and bowing. Tomas' aunt bowed in response " yes I am, name's Regina, it's good to meet you, I'm glad to see the school is also teaching spiritual practises along with academic studies" Tomas continued to fidget causing the lights above them to flicker in and out, Tomas lets out a worried groan. Lauren leans down and places her hand on Tomas' shoulder, Tomas looks up to her with a quick nod, she takes a deep breath as she slightly altered his emotions to calm him. He then nodded, Lauren noding in response. "Well it was nice to meet you Regina, peace to you as I have other guests" she then walks off to attend to the other families. Tomas then leads his aunt out of the room to continue the tour. --- monday. 15:40. k.c. and marinov's dorm. "You punched the headmaster?" Alex Marinov is a man with a warm presence, kind eyes and infectious laugh. A salt and pepper beard, short hair, and a heavy but strong build, his clothes are casual and not particularly stylish. He has pushed some of the pillows off of his child's bed to make a seat there. Even though it seems like he is trying to be stern, there is a hint of amusement in his eyes and voice, "Sasha, is this true? {What a rotten child you are!} Fighting the headmaster is a lot worse than to get in fights behind the school." His eyes widen, and he leans down, like sharing a secret, "And he is in a wheelchair!" Rebecca Marinov's dark eyes are fixed on her child, a gaze which is not returned since they're too busy looking down at their hands with nervous energy. She sits at Taylor's desk chair, turned around so she can see the rest of the room, her grey power suit and tightly tied back black hair only serving to emphasize her relatively authoritative presence. K.C. has been at her desk, swiveling slow back and forth and barely looking at the knitting needles moving rapidly in her hands, one bare foot resting on Suga Mama's broad back where the dog dozes at her feet. She's been quiet through much of this but does speak up now, her low monotone steady over the click of needles. "Not worse. Not worse. Other kids don't steal your brain. Good to have someone stand up for us." Marinov looks up towards K.C. now from where they are seated on the floor, grateful for her interruption, while Alex and Rebecca's gazes both move towards K.C. as well. Rebecca's lips press together in a thin line, and her eyebrows furrow. "Steal your brain?" says Rebecca, an icy rage beneath her cool tone, but a gentleness creeps in when she addresses K.C. and Marinov. "Do you kids want me to have a word with the headmaster for you?" --- monday. 18:05. teachers' lounge. It's never really quiet around Xavier's, but in comparison to the last couple days it feels downright peaceful at the moment. Nothing is exploding, no tiny siblings are getting lost in the halls, no clueless or hovering parents demanding answers. Maya has gotten a pair of glasses and is ransacking the bar, although the sake she initially pulls out is so close to empty she does not bother pouring it. Just checks the fridge, grabs a pair of beers instead. She collapses down into an armchair, offering one of the beers out and taking a long swig of her own. "Is it... always like this?" Tian-shin is collapsed bonelessly in her own chair, an empty mug (black, with a sketch of a book above the words "Reading is LIT!") on the table in front of her. She leans forward and accepts the bottle Maya offers. "Thank you," she already sounds a touch tipsy, but seems eager enough to continue her inebriation. "What, you mean this weekend?" Her lifts her eyebrows high, and a chuckle bursts from her unbidden. "Oh, no. It doesn't usually go anywhere near this smoothly." | |
