Logs:Wayward Elf
| Wayward Elf | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-04-17 "Even economy on Spirit Airlines is worth arriving conscious and coherent, ja?" |
| Location
<XAV> Foyer - Xs First Floor | |
Xavier's foyer provides a suitable introduction to the opulent mansion. Teak-paneled, wood floors immaculately polished, vaulted ceiling ribbed with dark wood boning, there is no doubt this school was built with no expense spared. The hallways branch off to the separate wings, with the grand staircase spiraling upwards to the residential dorms above. Kurt stretched the length of his back before picking up his bags again, two in each hand and one wrapped in his tail. It had been… well, a while since he had flown commercial, and even longer since he himself was not piloting the craft. But his impatience to get home overwhelmed the better choice of arranging a small craft to pilot himself back to New York. And while he had been a little nervous to go through customs (and yes, he had been detained for an hour while security thoroughly inspected him, his papers, and his passport), eventually he had arrived home. The stares had been rather intense, save for a harried mother who was trying to wrangle three children and absently thanked him for handing a wayward bunny toy back to her three year old twins. Kurt seriously doubted the poor woman noticed he was blue, and honestly could not blame her. Still— it had been a feat to keep his tail wrapped around his waist or leg, and he had forgotten how very little room there was in an economy flight. Funny how accustomed he had become to the “finer things” in life, so quickly. Still, Kurt was relieved to be back. Muir Island was a close second to “home”, and bonny England had wonderful memories, but nothing could fill the metaphysical shoes of Westchester. Quickly, Kurt ducked into the entryway, peering about and breathing in deep. Moira had once told him how deeply scent was connected to memory and he was of a mind to agree. Categorized with the smell of fresh hay and night air and circus peanuts, “home” was mixed with the floor polish of Xavier’s. “Hallo? Any room for a wayward elf?” Kurt called out, his accent softening his consonants considerably. The bustle of Xavier's might be somewhat more bustly than last time Kurt was here; the student body has swelled significantly in the past little while, and there's a tumult of teenagers hastening between classes or, occasionally, blowing them off entirely. At least a couple are giving curious looks to the unfamiliar face, whispering to each other as they rush by. It's not long after, though, that there's a rapid crisp report of dress shoes on the polished wood of the grand staircase, and an extremely familiar -- also extremely blue -- face split ear to ear in a massive grin, many (many) shark-sharp teeth on full display. Shane has not evidently grown at all since his teenage years, still child-sized in his diminutive height and deceptively slight build. There's not much childlike about his sharp-tailored vest-and-slacks ensemble, tie impeccably tied in a neat trinity knot, and he's darting over to fling arms tight around Kurt in a fierce hug. "Holy fucking shit Mr. Wagner?!" He's rocking back on his heels, peering up at the older man. "When did you get back in town?" “Shane!” Kurt’s arms wrap around his former student, returning the hug with fierce affection. “Mere hours ago, mien Bärchen. I would have been here sooner but there were, eh… some delays at customs, shall we say.” Kurt’s smile widens, a flash of fang evident. “This place has certainly grown. I did not think we would have so many new students.” His glowing eyes take in the sight before them; with so many new students it felt like Xavier’s dream was solidifying. “It seems comrades of ours were correct— there are more mutants than ever before.” He looks down at Shane, pride evident on his face. “And more X-Men, if what I hear is correct?” "Seeee you gotta just pump up those bamfing muscles, cross the whoooole ocean and skip the nightmare." Shane bounces juust slightly up onto his toes, his gills giving a quick pleased flutter that rasps quiet against the starched collar of his dress shirt. "Yeah. I don't know if Mr. Summers has been quite as thrilled about that as you are, but yeah!" Shane sounds pretty brazenly cheerful about his remarkable continued ability to give headaches to Scott, anyway. "Spence is here now! He's like, so damn big." He's got to rock even higher onto his toes so that one webbed hand can gesture -- high up above his own head, anyway, to indicate just how large his formerly quite-small brother has grown. "Can hardly call him my lil bro anymore he's taller'n Ba." Shane says this as if it is impressive, which perhaps at his size it is, though given his father's Extremely Average height this could mean anything about Spencer's current size. "How's Europe been," is immediately followed by, "are you staying," and then -- despite the complete lack of family resemblance, the Southern influence of his adoptive father is shining through in his slightly fretty: "Have you eaten? There's hella food." “Ach, to dream. I don’t think my head or my stomach could stand an entire ocean of teleportation.” Kurt has to laugh, even imagining the salt water soaking him every two to three miles. How bedraggled he would arrive home— “Even economy on Spirit Airlines is worth arriving conscious and coherent, ja?” “Spencer is here? Sehr gut! Und B? Is she done at MIT?” Kurt looks around the room as though both mutants might appear as though summoned. It’s happened before. “Europe was fine— I got just about everything I needed to settle out of the way and as fixed as could be.” And as to that end, well. No need to burden his young mentee; Shane wasn’t a child anymore but there were still some things Kurt was reluctant to put on the shoulders of others. “I am staying, ja. And no, I haven’t had anything to eat and I’m starved. Join me and we can catch up— I imagine you’re putting our fearless leader through the paces?” He shouldn’t chuckle at that, but he does. Scott Summers is perhaps one of the strongest men Kurt knows, but every so often, it’s more comical than it should be to see him dealing with an unruly student or three. "Eesh," Shane is giving a sympathetic grimace here, though his amused cheer is undimmed. "Economy these days honestly feels liek a gamble on arriving conscious, in another couple years they're just gonna be anesthetizing people and stacking 'em in bins Fifth Element-style -- or charging you extra fees for bringing on a tail." He's reaching to help Kurt with one of those bags, at least, so the other man does not have to occupy Quite So Many Limb. "-- Yeah Spence is -- shit he's in thinking-about-college era, terrifying. Still a bigass nerd. Bigger-ass-nerd." It's certainly hardly been unusual in the past for Shane's siblings to simply materialize around him, but, alas, neither his teleporting brother nor doppleganger seem anywhere around right now, maaaaaybe explained in part by: "Eh, MIT wasn't for B, she dropped out but Stark's been paying her big bucks for geekery anyway." This seems -- not down but it is considerably more subdued than his previous enthusiasm. At least the brief lull in energy has him remembering to start leading the way to the kitchen. "Oh yeah I'm giving him hell." Brighter here, again. "Shit it's good to have you back, the lil monsterlings these days are gonna be so lucky to have you. We're gonna be so lucky to have you." Kurt files away the small lapse of enthusiasm for later— something was up, but now was not the time for questioning. And as always for Shane, he knew pushing a subject was to surest way to drive Shane further back. Best to wait. “I cannot claim to understand how it goes, I never went to university but I know it is not for everyone,” Kurt says, smoothing over anything that might sound like an interrogation. And he is being truthful. Somewhere there was a degree and papers testifying that Kurt Wagner had enough knowledge to pass school and even teach it. Between field medic training, piloting, and the occasional flair for the dramatics, he seems well rounded enough to be a teacher. He follows Shane, giving an occasional wave to the new (sometimes gawking) faces of pupils he had not met yet. “It is so good to be back, I am only sorry I was gone for so long. I did get updates here und there. Juilliard never had so fine a player as you, I know it. And your father, he is well?” "Shit, yeah," Shane agrees, humble as ever, "I fucking rocked that shit." He is trotting along to the kitchen, holding the door open for Kurt when they arrive and giving just a little bit of a wince. "Oh, man, Ba? He's --" His gills flutter once more here, slower than before. "-- I got a lot to tell you." | |
