ArchivedLogs:EmoBombs

EmoBombs
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Rasa
In Absentia	2013-04-28 Ivan attacks with EmoBombs. Rasa counters with Unexpected Attack! It is Super Effective.
Location <XS> Roof
The view from up here is phenomenal, a panorama of the expansive Xavier's grounds, forest and lake and rocky cliffs alike. Even without the view outwards, the rooftop itself holds its own delights, in the form of the tiny jewel of a flower garden tucked away up here, tended by one of the school's teachers. From the edge of the roof, with a veeery careful jump, it looks like it just might be possible to reach the treehouse in the old oak tree. It's late on Sunday night, when all the good students are supposed to be tucked away in their dorms finishing up homework or brushing their teeths and getting ready for bed. Either because ze doesn't like dental hygiene or because hir homework is done - or because ze has had a very strange and somewhat stressful weekend, Rasa is sitting up on the roof, looking out toward the lake in the dim light. Ze has pulled hir legs up to hir chest and is simply staring. Ze is dressed in hir pajamas, with a warmer layer of sweat pants and shirt to keep the night's chill off hir skin. Hands, ungloved, face uncovered, ze just sits and stares. Yep. Some quality staring going on here. Though some students might come up here via the treehouse-- yet others have less faith in their athletic capabilities. A rattle and thud of things falling inside the adjacent, dark attic announces Ivan's presence before he ever manages to show himself, and even then-- there's a handful of tinygrey moths that find freedom through the window before he even appears at it, one hand pressed to the glass until he spots what he's been looking for. Hello Rasa. He's still dressed in the same clothes as before- dark grey shirt, jeans, but no shoes or socks. They may have been kicked off somewhere in the midst of his prompt /nap/ earlier. He slips past the window without much trouble, but his movements are utterly careful and precise, like he's afraid the roof might slip out from underneath him at any moment. His eyes, still slightly red but mostly just tired, are kept purposefully off of Rasa. He sits. Not too far, not too close. Just /there/. Joining in the quality staring. Though his is, perhaps, a little more /concerned/-looking. Rasa stirs a little when the noises start, but doesn't spend time staring at the attic window as it takes too long for said person to errupt. Besides, ze is attempting to be alone. Staring at people invites conversation. There is a sizeable pause between Ivan's taking a perch near by Rasa and the moment in which ze decides to speak. Arms clutch a little tighter around hir shins and a sigh escapes hir lips, eyes sliding closed as they sit in silence. But ze does speak! At Length! After Ivan is made to squirm a little. "Hello, Ivan." And squirm Ivan does, though the lion's share of it manifests in little twitches of his expression that never quite manage to make it into something clear enough to be read properly. But then there is a voice-- and he looks... relieved. "Hello, Rashka." The greeting comes perhaps a few seconds later than would be considered polite under normal circumstances. His eyes dart to hir face, but less than a second later, they're down to his hands, pressing uncomfortably at two of the knuckles on his right hand as his eyebrows press together again. "Did they tell you-- he was not hurt?" He sounds slightly confused about this, still. "Then you are lucky." Rasa exhales again, turning to look at Ivan, face grey and a little droopy. "What were you thinking? Why did you attack a person?" From the look on Ivan's face now, someone may well have just told him he was responsible for World War II. He slouches forward and /stiffens/, his eyes intently focusing on his own hand. He visibly struggles to come up with an answer for several seconds, evident through his mouth opening but not actually doing the /talking/ thing until quite a few seconds later. "He-- " His expression darkens for a moment, eyebrows drawing lower with a look of contempt. His face turns away from Rasa shortly after. "No one should say those things. Not to friends, not to /you/." Then, flatly, "... My brothers would have done much worse." "He was trying to start shit, Ivan. He wanted to hurt us." Rasa studies his face and presses hir lips into a fine line, different lines, not words, scratching across hir face in dark gray, making hir appear armored. "I rather let him say things, then to find out he has a gun or a knife or super strength and speed." Ze sets hir jaw, looking at him fiercely. "You could have been killed." "You can not..." Ivan starts again, before his hands slide away from in front of his stomach and onto the roof next to him, pressed down so he shift his weight and look at Rasa properly now. Not as fiercely as the look he gets in return, but direct nonetheless. "You can not always... {assume}-- /think/ they have a gun, or a knife or are a mutant or... {want to hurt you in the first place, or maybe they're looking to hurt you but even then, /even then/, that's still my own decision, and not...}" His Russian nattering on lends itself much more easily to emotion than his English - frustration rings through easily, but it's not anger that brings it on. It's closer to fear, defensive and quick. His nose wrinkles, but stray dissatisfaction seems to bunch up at his hands moreso than his face, fingers curling against the surface underneath. He breathes. In, slowly, then out in words in a language somewhat more familiar to Rasa. The air of disapproval stays, though it's bitten back against gritted teeth. "Some times you have to do these things. Or they will not stop." "{You think you're the only one who can prattle on in a language only you can understand? That is not fair at all and it's not actually nice.}" Rasa responds in farsi, eyes narrowing at him as the words spill from hir lips. Ze shakes hir head as hir hands clench and unclench. "He was drunk. He was belligerent. We were never going to see him again. /AND/ he turned out to be a mutant - and I'm not sure what kind but everything was weird and wrong and you have no sense for these kinds of things." Ze finally lets out a sigh. "I can't help feel like you don't think I can take care of myself and make decisions on my own for how I want to handle situations that concern me." Ze runs hir fingers through hir hair and tuck it behind hir ear after a breeze blows it in hir face. "I don't like that." Ze swallows hard. "I feel like I need to take you to watch me spar with Professor Logan or Professor Walters. Maybe you should ask them for physical training too - see how they feel about your assertion that you don't have to worry about guns or knives or dangerous mutations." With an unfamiliar language thrown his way and thus forced to face the same obstacle he just inadvertently posed to someone else, Ivan soon returns to resembling the version of himself that the school has grown more familiar with - retreating back into his shell, arms folding across his stomach as he turns his attention away from the only other person present. There's a brief pang of sadness that flashes across his expression at some of the English words that follow, but a moment later and... he's completely calm and neutral again, in a flash. Or at the very least, he looks it. The only thing he finds to reply with a few moments later, is a statement monotonously timid in its execution, but it may sound slightly out of place - there's a certain amount of /finality/ tacked onto it in tone. "I came to find you to ask if you were all right." "What is this, Ivan? What is going on?" Rasa exhales moodily and turns to move a little closer. "I can't have an argument with you? Or what? That I suggested you learn how to fight better? Or that I don't want you to protect me? Look, Ivan, I like you. But... it gets really uncomfortable sometimes. I don't know what to do with you. There are times when I think I'm supposed to take care of you because you can't face /anything/, but then you run off and question people I know about whether I've kissed them, or try to defend my appearance to drunk strangers." "Please, Ivan, just talk to me... don't close down like this." ze bites hir lip. "Maybe I need to learn." Though his thoughtful stare implies that he listened, Ivan's answer comes without thought, without pause, this time, after Rasa finishes speaking. One of his hands slips out from under his arm, and is lowered to hover just above the rooftop's surface. "I need to learn how to care about things not this much," His hand rises, to-- pretty much as high as he can manage to lift it, streeetching his arm upward as far as it'll go, "and not /this/ much." The hand lowers again, to hover at about shoulder-height, somewhat uncertainly, "But maybe... this much. Sometimes." That almost sounds like a question, and it's accompanied by another glance toward Rasa. This time unsure, questioning. Rasa watches Ivan's demonstration and when his arm is shoulder level, ze sneaks underneath and slides in for a side hug, pressing hir side against his. "This height is good." Hir from shrinks a little bit so that ze is comfortable under his arm and able to rest hir head against his shoulder. Ze loops one arm behind his back and stays there. "If this is what you think the problem is, then yes." Ze is now staring at his knee. HNN. Ivan stiffens again-- /just/ for a moment. Then he just relaxes, more so than he has managed the whole time since he arrived through the window. His slipped-under arm similarly finds a comfortable position to press Rasa juuuust a tinylittlebit closer still, as carefully as he can manage. His head, tired eyes and all, ends up just-- lowering onto Rasa's hair with a thump. Hello Rasa hair. Have a concerned face and a headkiss in silent apology. "I worry about you, too, Ivan." Rasa points out and then keeps quiet, content to stay so until it is time to go in and to sleep.