Logs:Of Choices and Changelings (Or, A New Normal)

Of Choices and Changelings (Or, A New Normal)
Dramatis Personae Kavalam, Sera
In Absentia	2021-11-19 "You're lucky you're a horse and don't need to worry about narrative cohesion."
Location <XAV> Stables - Xs Grounds
The distinctive smell of hay and sawdust and horses greets visitors to this large barn, kept well-tended by the stablehand and those who have a passion here for equestrianism. The horses at Xavier's are well cared for, stabled in comfortable stalls. The walls host a plethora of tack for those who wish to take a jaunt around the grounds. Though the day is mild considering the season, few students are out on the grounds this afternoon. With the term ending, many students are either heading out early for the break or busy packing for it. Sera, being local and having little need to pack, has been out here since classes ended. In a pastel rainbow sweater, denim overalls with small flowers embroidered along the cuffs, and brown hiking boots, she doesn't look much like she's out here to do any riding. What she has been doing is brushing down Ramiel, moving onto mane and tail now. "...so I've kind of written myself into a corner, is the point," she's telling the mare, conversationally. "You're lucky you're a horse and don't need to worry about narrative cohesion." Until just a moment ago, it certainly had seemed like Sera and the horses had the stables to themselves. In the space where comfortable silence had been, though,a distinctive feeling of Being Watched now stretches -- broken, soon enough, by the *crunch* of an apple. The apple slice, being happily consumed by an elderly Morgan, has been held upturned in the palm of a skinny youth currently regarding Sera from behind half-rim spectacles where he leans against the opposite stall. Kavalam doesn't seem like he's either coming or going from a ride, either; neat fitted grey peacoat over mustard corduroys, dark ankle boots, a warmly wrapped scarf that looks plush and soft. "How much concern has the world given to narrative cohesion? It's always seemed unfair imaginings need a higher standard." The calm radiating from Sera snaps abruptly to fright, and though she reins it in handily she's still breathing fast, clutching the brush in one hand and Ramiel's mane in the other. The horse nickers as if in mild admonishment for the interruption to her brushing. "Oh! Hi!" Sera is also on top of reeling in the flutter of her embarrassment, though not the blush it leaves on her pale cheeks. "Maybe it's because...people want life to have narrative cohesion, but it doesn't, so we keep looking for it in stories to make up for the deficit." She starts brushing again, her hands moving slow and steady. Her power has settled down, but it still tugs the boy faintly if steadily toward her quiet ease and even quieter pleasure for the conversation. "I'm sorry you had to hear me complain. I didn't think anyone else was in here. Anyone who could understand the complaining." "Yes, it was a terrible fate," Kavalam agrees easily, head wobbling side to side, "I was assured the moment they stamped my visa it was now my God-given right to never have to consider another human being at all. I assume that's why you came, too?" His brows lift, curious. "It was a very far trip just for some mediocre schooling." Sera looks -- and feels -- startled for a bare moment, and then she fails to stifle a laugh. Her mirth neither overshadows nor eases the twist of grief that also comes, but it does not show outwardly. "I guess that is kind of an American value. Unfortunately, it was in the one I came from, too." She smooths a hand over Ramiel's glossy black flank. "I came here because I was a danger to my family there. Or, anyway, that's what my brother believed." She breaks off, swallowing hard and just managing to hold onto her composure. The smile that follows is wan but not forced. "Not living in fear of being hunted down and thrown into a camp is a nice bonus, I guess." Her hands still for a moment. "I feel like there should have been some dramatic irony in the story of how I got here, but like you said. Reality doesn't have to maintain high standards." "You could endanger your family here," Kavalam suggests, solemnly. "If you want peak dramatic irony, you could get them thrown in a camp of some sort. The way this country is going you might not have to wait long before America decides to -- oh!" Though his posture and his voice both have a small perk at this, it does not remotely match the queasy-horrified souring that is his internal state -- "that is a dramatic irony all to itself, hmm?" Sera clutches Ramiel's mane again, her own fear clanging loud for just a moment when it overflows her control. But beneath that fear there's an unexpectedly hopeful warmth. "I guess it would be," she agrees reluctantly. "And I guess having terrible things happen to you and the people you love probably wouldn't feel much better even if it did make narrative sense." She cocks her head at Kavalam, her attention almost palpable. "Did you -- were you one of the kids who went over there?" Her brows furrow deeply. There's some distant suspicion rippling out from her now, but mostly bright curiosity. "I don't recognize you, but at this school who knows." "Maybe I don't go here. Maybe I just like to feed the horses." Kavalam pats at the neck of the gelding he has been treating to apples. "Besides, I am not very memorable." He sounds nonchalant about this, but it comes with an inward ripple of something heavier. "We left someone there, too, you know. Did you know? Interdimensional exchange program. I don't know which of you got the worse half of the deal." Though after a moment he considers, decides: "You, I suppose." Sera raises one eyebrow, then the other. "I'm usually pretty good at remembering people." She peers more closely at Kavalam, though this evidently does not spark any recollection. "Do you go here? It's sounding more and more likely." Her brows furrow deeply and she chews at her lower lip. "I heard. But at the time..." She frowns deeper and leans against Ramiel's solid shoulder. Her sorrow and disquiet spread out, then draw back in "I don't know much about what happened, though I hope he's doing okay over there. I can't speak for him, but why do you think I have it worse?" "I'm good at not being remembered. Perks of the mutation." Kavalam's shrug is very small. "Maybe it was a little-of rock and a hard place, but he chose to leave here. Wanted to stay where he was. Your move -- sounds more made for you, some bit." Sera only blinks once more than would have looked quite natural, but her surprise and confusion are sensible to Kavalam. "You make people forget you -- or, not remember you?" The curiosity that's never completely left her surges stronger again, little dampened by the whisper of caution over its surface. "As much as I want to go home, I'm still surprised that anyone from here -- any mutant from here -- would want to trade everything they know for...that." The misery that wells up in her is quiet, almost soothing in its familiarity. "I didn't want to come, but I did have a choice." She starts pulling the brush through Ramiel's mane again. Though she's no longer looking at the boy, the ebb and flow of the emotions that tug at Kavalam even out to something like comfort, warm and steady. "If also kind of a rock-and-hard-place choice." "Yes," Kavalam replies, "it's convenient for skipping classes. Inconvenient for -- a lot of other things." He doesn't sound particularly distressed, for all that. He shrugs, again, additng: "-- that depends on what is everything that you know, hmm?" He's feeding the last of his apple slices to Adagio, wiping his hand against his coat. "I am sorry. I suppose this world could have been Nirvana, and without your family it wouldn't feel much softer." There's not much mirth in the small twist of his smile. "And we are very far from liberation, here." "Hard to control?" A sense of kinship creeps into Sera's quiet ease. And then a hint of unease, too. "Oh. We've met already, no? Only, I do not remember? I hope I'm not too repetitive." She does look back at him now, bright green eyes wide and searching. "The everything I left behind was --" Her lips compress as she struggles for a word. "... complicated. I don't know what Nirvana is supposed to be like, and it's not like I thought things were going to be perfect here, either. But I still just keep reflexively holding my breath waiting for things to feel. Okay? Normal? Something." "I have gotten decent at it, but it gets tiring," Kavalam replies. "It's easier not to, unless someone seems worth the exhaustion." He's drifting away from Adagio's stall, leaning up against the wall beside Ramiel's, now. "Many times," he answers with a very small smile. "How do you know when you've gotten to normal? I don't remember that feeling. Sometimes I think it's a -- fiction." Sera's eyebrows raise up, her discomfort intensifying. "Sorry, it's -- hard to control." But even as she says so, the discomfort is offset, though not replaced, by a pleasant sense of companionship. And by the curiosity that had never really faded. "I...don't know, actually." Her surprise is not entirely unpleasant. "And even if there were such a thing, I think probably I left my 'normal' in the other universe." The grief that trickles from her at this realization is complicated, confusing, struggling to be something else. "I do like fiction, though." She twitches a wry smile. "What's your name?" Kavalam shifts his weight awkwardly under the flux of discomfort. "I thought I was leaving my normal behind when I moved to this awful country, and that was before my family forgot who I was." He sounds a little wry, at this. "Maybe life is just constantly trying to adjust to some new normal." His eyes flutter wider, a little startled at the question. His head tips slightly to the side, gaze levelling on Sera thoughtfully. "I could tell you it's Praveen or Jacob, George or Krishnadeva, what's the difference?" Sera goes still, her eyes widening again under a wave of horror and aching sympathy. "Your family --" She shakes her head. "I don't know why I thought they wouldn't. I'm so sorry." Her hands start moving again, slow and meditative. "I thought it might make a difference to you? But to me, anyway -- names have power. It's easier to think about people and things and ideas when I have names for them, so I thought maybe..." She shrugs, though her churning disappoinment feels a bit less neutral than she looks. "Though if your memory thing is that strong, probably knowing your name won't help, no matter how many times you tell me. Or have told me, already." There's a hesitation here. "Do I say the same things, every time? Similar things, anyway?" "So this is a sort of, fairy trap, then?" There's an amusement bubbling up underneath Kavalam's serious exterior. "Oh, everyone says the same things. Nearly always. I just get to cheat, twice over. The days someone surprises me it's new and pleasant and -- they've never remembered how boring I really am. Almost a Groundhog Day kind of chance to perfect my openings." His head wobbles, again, side to side. "I should use it on something better than haunting the school's castaways but --" A small shrug, a slight twitch of smile. "We all have our ways of looking for normal, I guess." "I'm not a fairy." Sera does not bother to disguise her amusement, which does not stop her thoughtful moue. "Well...I am from another world and had a counterpart who..." Her discomfort here is fleeting, quashed with practiced ease. "So I'm kind of like an overgrown changeling? Still, I didn't ask for your true name, and even if you told me I'm not going to steal you away to fairyland. On my honor." She raises three fingers beside her brow. "Anyway I'm...not sure how your powers are like -- Groundhog Day? But I think you're pretty interesting, and who knows, maybe I'll surprise you one of these days." Her bright easy friendliness falters suddenly. "Wait, where do you go during break? Are you just -- here, at school?" She isn't actually waiting for an answer. "Come home with me." "No, I don't stay here, I just..." Kavalam trails off, his amusement swelling higher at Sera's impulsive offer. His brows lift. "You're not selling the not stealing away." He gives this only a moment's consideration before nodding, adding, afterwards: "My name is Kavalam."