Logs:Backflipping to Conclusions

Backflipping to Conclusions
Dramatis Personae Tok, Asva, Roscoe
In Absentia Emilia	2024-11-20 “‘Course I got bones! Don’t go lookin’ at my bones!”
Location <XAV> Playground - Xs Grounds
Set on the still-expansive grounds around the side of the school, this area is to the outdoors rather what the rec room is to the indoors. There's a large basketball court out here; a fenced-off tennis court adjacent. Further distant there are setups for other sports -- a large track, a soccer field. Closer in to the school, though, in its own large enclosure adjacent to the basketball and tennis courts, is the playground, a huge expanse of equipment set up on alternating plots of slightly squishy flooring and mulch. Centrally there is a large sprinkler-fountain, not always on but it can be turned on with a push of a button; spreading out around this is the actual playground equipment, sturdy and varied. A huge dome constructed in honeycombed interlocked poles and rope netting rises hiiiigh for climbing; a large swingset holds four pairs of swings. A large roundabout in bright colours stands in one corner near a long see-saw. The huge bridge-and-tunnel castle structure at one end has many routes of entry, from poles to climb up (or slide down) to a small climbing wall. Monkeybars. Four different slides of varying lengths and spiraling. For the adventurous, between things to climb on and jump between and bounce across it is probably possible to skirt one end of the playground and back without touching the ground, though it might take a particularly adept feat of balance and agility. Or possibly wings. Classes have wrapped up for the day, and in the cool but not too cool fall afternoon the grounds are filled with students, the tell tale sound of sneakers scraping against the pavement of the basketball court nearby, a pair of students trading rallies on the tennis courts. “Alright I so got it this time.” At the edge of the playground, Tok is clearly preparing some sort of run up, hunched forward with one leg in front, fluffy tail flicking back and forth in an anticipatory way. Their sweat shirt is hung on a nearby structure, leaving them in just their worn t-shirt and cargo pants with some patched holes by the knees. They’re sporting a few bruises and some streaks of dirt here and there, but they don’t seem discouraged. They dart forward full speed a few feet towards one of the benches, stamp down on it hard and- clearly there’s supposed to be some sort of side flip here, but instead they’re careening wildly to the side and go tumbling into the mulch, sending wood chips flying. They groan and roll over onto their side, coughing once before wheezing out, “How close was that one?!” Asva inhales sharply, his choice to stand clear of the Landing Zone and off to one side suddenly becoming a great foresight, even if his Default Ghosting would’ve seen Tok fly right through him. He lowers the neck of his navy blue and white ice-hockey jersey — which had been pulled up and over the lower half of his face to hide the anxious Grimace underneath —and tilts his head, “So close, you were off by thiiiiis much…” He’s lifting a hand, forefinger and thumb spaced a couple inches apart, “You gotta tuck your shoulder in more — get more of a quick spin.” Joining Tok on the mulch, he leans down to offer a hand, willing it back to a solid state while the other rests on his gym-short-covered-thigh, “You good?” Roscoe is probably on his way to the basketball courts -- he's carrying a basketball, at least, tucked under one arm, which he tucks up against his chest as detours cheerfully toward the edge of the playground, just stepping up and over the bench Tok just ~~flipped~~ flopped over. He's wearing a light grey waffle-knit thermal under a plain white t-shirt, sidestripe joggers, a red beanie pulled low over his face that he pushes up a little when he peers past Asva's shoulder -- "Whoa, you totally ate shit," he says. "You gonna do that again?" He could stand to sound less eager about this. Tok sits up a little dazed, woodchips stuck in their wild mess of hair, then nods eagerly at Asva’s advice, “OHHH okay got it got it! And yeah I’m fineeee.” They shake some mulch out of their hair, then tilt their head with a slight lean to look up towards Roscoe, grinning, “Yeah I’m gonna do it again!- well- not eat shit again, obviously. This next one is gonna be the one though, I can feel it.” They nod up towards Asva, “Asva’s a pro though.” They go to grab Asva’s hand to pull themself up, then whisks right through it. They blink surprised at it, mind taking a moment to catch up. “Helvete- sorry,” He gets it Right this time, taking their hand and helping them up with a Proper Yoink. His lips purse as he shoots a look of mock-distain towards Roscoe, as if he’d consciously distracted Asva from Solidity. “You know basketball’s a little more interesting with friends, right?” He’s smirking now, the thick sarcasm in his tone supplemented by a quick nod to the ball under Roscoe’s arm. Roscoe politely does not laugh at the other two, though his mouth twitches like he had to bite down a smile; his face is nevertheless quite blank as he tilts his head. "Legit?" he says, "Shoot, I've been doing basketball all wrong my whole life. Next you're gonna tell me you're allowed to throw the ball to each other." Tok hops to their feet with Asva’s help, careful not to scratch his hand with their claws, “Thanks!” They then snort as they wipe themself off, “Wait till you learn about scoring points too.” They tilt their head in a stretch, then bend down towards the ground to stretch some more—practically folding in half. They contort their head to still look up at the two of them, “If you got no friends you could join our parkour club!” They look to Asva, head craning even further, “Is it a club? Oh oh! Maybe It could be a secret club.” Asva’s brow lifts, mouth upturning in consideration. “Neat idea! Though — no offence Tok — I’d give it a week ‘til the whole school knew about it.” He chuckles, lightly, before turning back to Roscoe. He crosses his semi-visible arms over the semi-visible maple leaf on his chest, “Still, invitation’s open? You won’t ‘eat shit’, not every time.” "Why does it have to be secret? All you're doing is falling off of stuff," says Roscoe, now squinting back at the bench with a considering frown; he wraps his arms around the basketball, hugging it against his chest. "I have tons of friends. Jail is a great place to meet people. I mean -- keep your standards good and low, if you're gonna be all squeamish about someone's attempted murder charges you're probably better off joining a book club. What makes you think I'd be any good at parkour?" “PSHH Nah! I can keep a secret! And it’s secret cause secret things are cool.” Tok insists. They spring back up from their stretching, and they squint at Roscoe, grin twitching downwards for only a moment. “I think I’ll take attempted murder charges over book club.” They say light heartedly, stretching into a middle split, and leaning to the left, “We ain’t just falling off stuff! At least- Asva isn’t! And you’re good at that karate stuff! Maybe you’re good at this kinda thing too—or you could learn I bet!” Asva flicks an imaginary strand of long hair from his shoulder, a certain smugness tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Aw shucks -- I agree, do enough readin' around here. I can teach you to do a backflip! Now they're cool -- JESUS Tok do you have any bones?!" "He has way more bones than you," Roscoe reports helpfully. "Do you think the club is cool or do you think having secrets is cool? Having secrets looks so stressful," he says this like he's Never Had Any Ever, his eyebrows pinching over his nose in serious, doubtful contemplation. "You really a good secret-keeper? Name one secret you kept." Tok waves a hand from their middle split, “‘Course I got bones! Don’t go lookin’ at my bones!” They don’t sound actually upset about this, more so amused as they lean the other way. They narrow their eyes at Roscoe, grin dipping again, “I keep my friend’s secrets just fine. Like this one time my brother snuck a bunch of-” they stop, then their eyes widen, “No wait! You’re tryin’ to trick me.” They huff, “Why you questioning how I keep secrets?” This comes out maybe a little more loaded than they intend it to be. “I don’t really care, but didn’t you tell Emilia ‘bout how I can trade bod-” They stop, glance at Asva, then wince. “Nothin’.” "Forget cool, Parkour! is getting heated-" Asva chimes in, his gaze flicking between the other two before landing on Tok, finishing their sentence, "-how you trade body parts? That's not a secret I knew that -- wait unless I wasn't supposed to know that? Or I got it wrong, or Roscoe wasn't supposed to-" He shifts his weight, uncrossing his arms to lift them above his shoulders and rest both hands on the crown of his head with an audible thud. "Help, I'm lost." Roscoe grins wide, as Tok starts to divulge secrets, then even wider when they stop, with a distinct note of pleasure; it curdles with astonishing speed, his expression suddenly slamming flat and flinty and cagey, his eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about," he says; in contrast to the casual way he usually speaks, he is enunciating very carefully, one word at a time. His hands have gone tense and spidery, clutching at his ball. "Everyone knows you trade body parts, you're not subtle. Don't blame this on me. I don't gossip about people's powers because I am not a snitch," this last word is almost indecipherable, the way he hisses it. Tok’s ears pin back, then down, eyes darting back and forth between Roscoe and Asva. They plant their hands on the ground and push themself into standing, slowly, still watching the both of them. “No- I-” they shake their head, “Not that. She made a joke about the other thing-” Their tail curls around their waist and they pull at the fur, they swallow harshly against a clicking noise sounding in their throat. They scan Roscoe’s face, carefully, and there’s something mixed in with the anxiousness. Whatever they see has them shaking their head, “Doesn’t matter. Wasn’t you. Sorry.” They glance away, ears still pinned down. Roscoe doesn't seem entirely convinced he's been cleared of this charge -- he's still staring very intently at Tok through this apology, his expression still fixed somewhere between 'neutral' and 'stony'. But his voice relaxes, mostly, back into don't-know-don't-care aloofness. "Well. At least you gave me the benefit of the doubt before you started hurling accusations," he says. "You know, back in Lassiter, people were actually super chill about rumormongers. Especially snitches. We actually had a whole saying about that, 'snitches get kisses'." Tok winces in a realization, one side of their face scrunching up. They look up to try and meet Roscoe’s intent stare, and they manage to hold it for a few seconds, before nodding and looking away again. Their tugging at the fur of their tail turns into a slow, sort of self soothing raking motion with their claws. They hesitate, “Sorry- Should’ve uh. Asked- or not asked-?“ Tok frowns, motions pausing as they think it over. After a moment they unpause, “Shouldn’t have had to.” They land on with another nod. They glance between Roscoe and Asva, ears twitching back up hesitantly, and blow out a long breath. “You got nothin’ wrong Asva, just- someone made a lucky guess ‘bout something.” They explain. They offer a hesitant smile, “Secrets ain’t so cool anymore.” “Now that we’ve ironed that out…” Asva breathes a sigh of relief, his body becoming slightly more Visible. Had he been slowly Retreating while Tok and Roscoe tossed blame? Perhaps, perhaps not, “I say we throw out the Secret part and keep Eating Shit, or trying not to — invitations there Roscoe!” Roscoe hisses in a slow breath, shifting tersely on his feet, but his face smooths back into its resting bored face, "Naw," is easy-breezy lemon squeezy again. "Gonna go play basketball." He pauses just long enough to sound pointed even in his very unruffled voice, "With my friends." ...bye? He's not saying 'bye,' as he clambers unnecessarily back over the bench to head off. Tok grimaces in a way that flashes some of their sharp teeth, and their hand twitches by their tail as if they’re going to wave goodbye or maybe even reach out. Instead their fingers curl into their fur, and they offer a quiet, “…See ya later Roscoe.” Their eyes flick up nervously to Asva a few times, and they blow out a breath. They remove one hand from their tail to rub at the back of their neck, then they flash a smile that maybe looks far more like a wince, “I don’t think I’m a great club recruiter.” “Nahh,” Asva’s waving it off, soon mimicking some of Tok’s stretches before positioning himself in the same spot they took their Run-Up from, “He’s just not much of a joiner. You ready to go again? I’ll show you what I meant earlier-“ He inhales through his nose, letting the air flow back out through carefully parted lips. Almost like it’s rehearsed, he launches forward — pushes off the front end of the bench and tucks in, Side-Rolling to clear the bench and land far too Gracefully on the mulch on the other side (Just About resisting the urge to land in a heroic pose.) He returns to a Stand, brushing his hands together ceremoniously, “I don’t hate the idea of this being an exclusive club anyway.”