ArchivedLogs:Fairies and Bees

Fairies and Bees
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Megan
In Absentia	2013-05-09 Ivan creeps, Megan is /intriguing/.
Location <XS> Gardens
From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. At the far back edges of the garden, a droning buzzing marks a few stacked white boxes as beehives. The gardens have been looking steadily fuller, as the weather improves in swathes of warmth. With the abundance of new leaves and flowers to peer at come more visitors, especially now that classes are over for the rest of the day. Some make their way through on their way to something else, some wander more aimlessly, perhaps in search of quiet or inspiration in all that green around the pond. One student in particular is doing neither. He's decided to wander past the gardens to busy himself with the beehives stowed away under a line of trees, instead. One of them has had its wooden top removed, instead leaning against the box. Ivan, dressed in faded jeans, converse shoes and a green and yellow striped shirt with an upside down black star on the front, stands staring somewhat blankly into the mass of bees inside their wooden home. His hair's a bit /wilder/ than usual, a random curly mess standing up here and there. Someone didn't think to look in the mirror this morning. He's carrying another wooden box by his side, held by a metal ring, roughly milk crate sized. Bees aren't... particularly busier or more plentiful where he stands. They all just seem to be going about their business, happily hunting around for nectar. Maybe it's because he's not moving! A heavy whupping fills the air, like a machine gun, except more hollow. It's the sound of Megan's wings beating the sky at high speeds, creating a slapping noise with each change of direction. With the coming summer, she's traded her bluejeans for jean shorts, and her teeshirt for a tank top, as she speeds through the air towards the garden. Soon enough, she settles to the ground, her wings beating their last after settling her gently. "Wow, so many bees," she says, scratching her arm nervously. "Hey, Ivan," she calls, greeting, before moving to investigate the flowers curiously. One of Ivan's shoulders gives a twitch when that yet unfamiliar sounds hits the air, and he turns to look into Megan's direction just before she's landed, his head slooowly cocking to the side as he watches it happen. And he keeps watching her, /staring/, even after she's greeted him and moved her attention elsewhere. Just standing next to his precious bees, and still holding tightly onto that box. He may not be the best with the social ambiguities. Well, /that's/ a cold shoulder greeting. Megan smiles anyways and offers giggled fingers. "Did I get it wrong? I'm totally sorry if I did, I'm usually really good with names, but all of this has me out of sorts. Are there usually this many bees here this time of year?" Both of Megan's questions get little more than an immediate, curt shake of Ivan's head, movement returns to the boy shortly afterward; He bends to set that box he's holding onto the grass, rising again without it. His neutral expression changes gradually, brows knitting together over the course of a few seconds. His words come out a little sluggishly, as if today finds him struggling even more than usual to speak, Russian accent heavy: "I like your wings," the end of the sentence lingers a little unfinished, and still with his head tilted curiously to one side, he tries, "... /Megan/?" Megan's wings flutter a little at the compliment, like they have a mind of their own and just /want/ to be shown off. "Thank you," she says. "Yes, it's Megan." Braving the bees, she steps towards him a little, trying to get to a more comfortable conversational distance. "They're kind of a pain, though. I mean, /I/ don't think they are, but everyone says I shouldn't go out in public with them, and that's a pain." As Megan steps forward, it's almost like the bees clear a path for her - they do not /scatter/, as such, but there is a distinct lack of them within her arm's reach all of a sudden, and her path clears slightly. Ivan is quiet, for a moment, his gaze darting to catch that brief flutter of wings as it happens, before landing back on their owner's face. He perks up just slightly, then... leeeaans forward a little before he starts to walk, leaving the open bee hive to head in slow, calculated steps toward Megan. Or in a circle around, as it turns out! To peer at those wings, without coming too awfully close. Not a talker, this 'n, it turns out. Megan slows when the bees first part, studying their behaviour curiously. She blinks, then steps towards him again, until he starts to walk around her. It's only slightly creepy, honest. Nevertheless, she stops and puts on a smile, then spreads her wings out so he can inspect them, since that's probably what he's doing. "What?" she asks. "Do I have a tear?" /Oooh/. There is a visible little spike of interest from Ivan when those wings spread, his eyes popping just slightly wider. He stops in his path around Megan. Then takes a step closer. And another. Aiming to wander /behind/ Megan, his hands slowly raising to idly fidget with the hem of his shirt. Like an impatient child might do upon being promised something /soon/, soon. "What happens when they tear." It's hard to tell why, exactly, he wants to know this, his focus on the wings tightening still as he studies them. "I dunno," Megan admits, standing nervously still while he studies her. "I've only had them a few months, and I haven't torn them, but ... I can't sit like I used to. They do hurt. I am pretty sure they /can/ tear." "Was it easy to learn flying?" Ivan looks ever so /eager/ to be doing that studying, hands fidgeting a little more enthusiastically. Like he would really rather be reaching out. But he does not come closer, not just yet. What does, however, are the bees. They seem to have had their fill of clearing the space, ever so slowly drifting back toward Megan. Or just Ivan? It's hard to tell. Crap, bees! And Megan's got more skin than clothes showing. "Actually no. I just sorta ... knew how. It's harder to control the dust. But I'll get there, too, I'm sure. What about you? What's your mutation?" At least the bees seem friendly enough! Only one or two actually land on Ivan, and a few attempt to do the same to Megan. But they just sort of... sit. At the mention of the dust, Ivan stops fidgeting, and straightens. His eyes dart from the wings to Megan's face again, and his mouth twitches into a brief, timid smile. Genuine, but gone before long. "Spiders." They do not seem to present on him, this time. "And insects." As if on cue, more bees gather in a tiny little swarm behind him, a few dozen, before landing suddenly in unison on his shirt, covering it like a shoulderpad. He either fails to notice, or mind. Looking a /little/ proud. "You control them?" Megan asks, eyes widening just faintly. "That's kinda cool. Also a little uncomfortable, though; could you ask your friends not to land on me? I really don't want to get stung, and I'm fidgety." She smiles, and turns to look over her shoulder at Ivan. "I came to enjoy the garden. Guess I'm not the only one." Ivan freezes, starting with the word 'stung'- he may even forget to breathe for a second or two. His shoulders drop just slightly, and his eyebrows inch up as though in realisation of something. Megan's hardly finished talking and the bees /scatter/, this time much more forcefully so, much more /obviously/ Ivan's doing. They flee back to flowers, or to the hives, or simply /away/. All but the bees on his own shoulder, a writhing little mess of bugs that's starting to slowly move upward toward his neck and jawline. He sways just a tiny bit backwards, almost as if he's about to lose his balance, then quickly blurts. "/Sorry/." That's probably a 'yes' to the question of whether he controls them, then. A flash of red is added to his face to add to the apologetic tone. "It's totally okay," Megan says, brightening as she watches the bees fly off. "They're really cute, I just ... I get nervous. I'm the one who should be sorry. So do they talk to you? Do you talk to them? Can you like see what they see and stuff?" As if the friendliness confuses Ivan, there's a bit of a silence before he answers. He blinks, once, twice. "They do not talk." His voice is a bit quieter now. "They only listen. Not to words. Intentions?" He seems... unsure. "Some of the time I /hear/ what they see." The bees still left on him seem intent on migrating! There's not even a /twitch/ from Ivan as they start to move straight across his cheek, over his ear. "Intresting," Megan says, turning to regard him more fully. She studies him a quiet moment, watching the bees wander across his face. "I got Professor Summers to say we could go look for Peter, as long as we go in groups," she says. "I'm trying to figure out how to get off campus, but ... we totally have permission as long as we sign out and stuff." Flying change of subject! Go! The bees happily move in little buzzy waves, now into Ivan's /hair/. They get a little tangled, but it doesn't stop them! A few stragglers move downward instead, onto the bridge of his nose, as yet /more/ bees gather on him from behind in groups of four or five at once. Gettin' nice and comfy on his shirt, some on his arms. The look that then takes over Ivan's face may easily be taken for disinterest. His eyes lose their previously sharp focus. "Peter." He mumbles a little absently, "Do we. Search tomorrow? Where?" "I don't know. I'm not good at organizing these things," Megan replies with a shrug. "But Rasa should know, I guess. Maybe talk to Rasa about it?" "Rasa." Again, unhelpfully, from Ivan. "Okay." He wavers a little, mouth still half open like he's about to add something else, but never does. His attention wanders upwards, ever so subtly /away/ from Megan. Megan smiles at Ivan, then wiggles her fingers. "Anyways, I'm gonna go check out the garden. I'll talk to you later, okay?" Bees! More bees land on Ivan, gathering in happy little clutches of buzz. He seems unbothered, head once more sloowly dropping to the side to peer in Megan's general direction (more or less!) as she waves. "Good bye, Megan." He simply eyes the garden for several more minutes as bees, one by one, join on his back, shoulders, arms and face. Then, he simply turns, and heads back to the open beehive- back into the relative shade the line of trees provides. When he gets there, he simply sits, cross legged, before rolling onto his side. Apparently, it is naptime.