ArchivedLogs:Wolf and Spider

Wolf and Spider
Dramatis Personae Rahne, Peter, Hank
In Absentia	2013-04-29 '
Location <XS> Danger Room
Dr. Henry McCoy's voice rumbles out somewhere on an unseen intercom over Rahne's head: "Alright, so! Since this is your first time in the Danger Room, Ms. Sinclair, we'll take things very slowly. At any point during the simulation, if you say the word 'STOP' - even accidentally - the simulation will immediately enter 'safety mode'." Around Peter and Rahne is the bowl-like Danger Room; it looks - well, remarkably /boring/, actually. There's nothing notable in here at all save a metal floor, metal walls, and a domed metal roof. Peter's currently clad in his red hoodie, blue jeans, sneakers, and glasses; he's also wearing unusual looking wrist-watches - much more sleek and fashionable looking than his previous ones. He smiles over at Rahne, as if to confirm to her that everything is okay. "This part's really cool," he assures her. "Beginning simulation... now," Dr. McCoy says. And then... ...then, they are standing outside. The metal floor is still there - but the roof and walls have disappeared, exposing a rather large park. It looks a bit like Tompkins Park, actually; jungle gyms - swing sets - chain-link fences - basketball courts - trees - even a skate park. Except everything's a little /exagerrated/; the jungle gyms are sprawling, way too big for kids to use - the fences are a bit higher than they should be - and the trees look a little too neat. And then there's the smell - a rush of familiar city scents. Hot dogs. Flowers. Trees. Soil. But not /people/. In fact - aside from Peter - Rahne seems to be the only person in the park. Rahne has heard stories. Some have probably been true, some grossly fabricated, and some in between the two. But she has heard stories about the Danger Room, and where Peter knows what to expect, she stands not three steps in from the door, wide-eyed. A little bit terrified. Heart beat at a rabbit's pace. Hands curled into tiny fists at her sides. But she is here! She is attempting to take this next step. Wait, did she just squeak at Peter for his comment? When the room changes, thoroughly challenging her senses and the fact of the what was not matching up with the what is, she startles. Just a little. The wee Scot stares down at the grass beneath her, one foot lifting up as if trying to get out of water, and then it trades for the other. "Ach," she says. And not much else. "Ach." "See? Hogwarts," Peter states. "/Totally/ Hogwarts." "Peter." McCoy's voice, somewhere above, has just a hint of disapproval to it. "Ms. Sinclair - try to relax. Nothing you're experiencing is genuinely real; nevertheless, everything /feels/ real. Your case is particular - your powerset grants you an array of highly sensitive senses. Senses which, no doubt, are currently feeding you data that makes no sense. You /know/ that you are inside of a small enclosure beneath the school; nevertheless, every one of your senses - senses you have good reason to trust! - are telling you otherwise. I recommend, in this case, you continue to trust your senses. Try to /believe/ you are actually outside. I find this makes the experience more tolerable." "He's saying relax and go with it. Also," Peter says, and now he's rolling his shoulders back - stretching slowly, with practiced motions, swaying from one side to the other. "Sometimes? If we're really good? He lets us fly /spaceships/." "/Peter/." Dr. McCoy's glower can be /felt/ through the intercom. Rahne is, maybe, too bewildered and overwhelmed by this first, drastic change to baffle at Peter, because she does not immediately remember what a Hogwarts is. But then maybe that is a good thing, considering the Harry Potter books are Satanic in her world and really somebody is just going to have to break her of that notion at some point. In any case, she does at least try to adjust, try to calm down and accept that her new surroundings are real, or real enough, for her senses. At the mention of believing, her hand sneaks up to hold the small gold cross that she wears practically of its own volition. "...spaceships?" she questions, and now she does baffle at Peter. Because what. But in the meantime, she manages to set both of her feet back down on the ground and stop looking like a miserable cat in a puddle. 'Spaceships'. Peter /mouths/ this word to her silently, not daring to impede on Dr. McCoy's good graces any further. His little stretching exercise continues - Dr. McCoy's voice booms somewhere above: "Peter's regiment is, ah, a bit /aggressive/ - I'm not familiar with your limits - so we'll start you slow, Ms. Sinclair. Remember: Speaking the word 'STOP' will, at any time, revert the simulation to safety mode. Do /not/ hesitate to use this if you feel at all uncomfortable." And then, standing in front of them - blinking into existence with no more fanfare than a light turning 'on' - are three kids no older than them. Dressed in knee-pads, helmets, and leather jackets. The leather jackets have on them, respectively - '1', '2', and '3'. The three boys are /glaring/ at Rahne and Peter, as if to size them up. Peter /groans/, finishing his stretches with a series of cracks and pops, arms suddenly /high/ over his head as he arcs back, curling his toes. "Oh, man, /these/ losers. So it's basically tag," he tells Rahne, gesturing at the three. "You just gotta grab them and 'poof', they disappear, you win." The wee Scot stares at Peter for a moment, trying to sort out what on earth aggressive translates to. But then people wink in, and she startles again, back a small step, while her senses and her brain try to get onto the same page again. They were not there, and now they are. She can see them, hear them, smell them. This is not disorienting at all, no. Rahne's first inclination after this, however, is not for action but for something that could be filed under diplomacy, probably. "Erm... hi?" she tries. She doesn't quite shrink under their glares, but she is also a small slip of a thing to begin with. Saying hello, this probably does not make them go poof any. Nope. No poofing. Instead, the three dubious fellows just fold their arms over their chests and /glare/ at Rahne, now. All tough-and-rough and 'we're-too-good-for-you' style. One of them finally deigns to speak - addressing, apparently, both of them: "Yo yo yo /yo/," #1 says, making this pronouncement with several ridiculous hand-gestures. "You wanna rule over the PARK, you gotta show us you got the BARK - Daddy-o." Peter rolls his eyes before stage-whispering to Rahne: "Dr. McCoy wrote the script. I think /he/ thinks this is how teenagers talk." "You a couple of flakes? You got five minutes to show us you got what it takes. Them's the stakes," #2 announces. And then, at the basketball court - a large score-board 'dings', showing 5:00 on the timer. And begins counting down - 4:59. 4:58... #1, #2, and #3 - all of whom appear identical, aside from their numbers - proceed to /backflip/ in what is actually quite a demonstration of manual agility - landing with a set of in-sync thuds on the concrete. Suddenly... they've got /rollerblades/. Which they are using to skate away - along the concrete - toward the skatepark. Peter, besides Rahne, immediately /charges/ forward, running after them. "Just tag 'em," he tells her as he runs. "Doesn't matter how!" Well, now Rahne baffles at the boys. "...was all that English?" she asks, with a quick glance to Peter, and she's not even kidding. She gets distracted, though, by the scoreboard, thin brows drawing together and wrinkling her forehead. Because what on earth, they are in crazyland. "I must be dreamin'," she murmurs to herself. And then the boys are off. And then Peter is off. And she is left standing there a moment. But she is not about to just... not participate, despite the fact she feels a tiny bit absurd. So with an, "Ach, they're cheatin'," the wee Scot tags after Peter. It is fair enough to say that she is a pretty good sprinter, especially for her size. "Yeah," Peter agrees, sprinting beside her - is he keeping up with her? Or is she keeping up with him? It's hard to tell - "they do that, though once they hit the skate park, they'll do all these dumb tricks that'll slow them down--" Ah. There they go. They've split off into different parts of the skate park; #1 is grinding down a railing along a flight of stairs - one hell of a trick, considering he's doing it with /rollerblades/. #2 just swung down into what looks to be a large, 12 foot deep empty pool - skates /scraping/ down over the stone as he swings up the other side, doing a quick flip - while #3 busies himself on the skate ramp, flinging up along it - only to catch the edge with his hand as he /flips/ upside down, roller blades briefly high in the air. Peter rolls his eyes as he goes after - the one in the pool, breaking off from Rahne briefly as he /flings/ himself after them - whoa, Peter can jump high. Something like a 5 yard leap. As he flings himself into the air after #2, he shouts back at Rahne: "Hey, do you /play/ any sports? I haven't seen you - well, around the school very often--" He's apparently totally okay with holding a conversation /mid-jump/. Rahne's only experience with a skate park has been with the one she passes by in the city when she goes to church. It is a thing she has both quietly marveled at and also shied away from, mostly because it involves lots of boys and one or two scrappy girls that like to swear and smoke and she just tries to stay away from environments like that. So she is not as comfortably familiar with the setting as the average American teen would be, though it is pretty straight-forward once you can puzzle out things. Like why there is an empty pool. She blinks at the Peter leap, in awe for a brief moment. "Oh no, the Reverend Craig didnae allow it," she answers, at least. After a moment of indecision, she opts for stairs instead of ramp, and books it after #1. Unlike Peter, she has yet to really show anything, well, mutanty. Peter's momentum carries him through to the other side of the pool - he's spinning upside down, and for a brief moment, his head is facing Rahne as she runs after #1. #1, who has just finished /grinding/ down that rail, springs off - lands on the concrete path at the end of the stairs - and rolls backwards, away from Rahne, arms folded and /glaring/ at her with this contemptuous, 'no-way-in-hell-you're-catching-me' look. "Pfshaw," #1 tells her, "go back to your tea-set, /gurrrrrrrl/." He says 'girl' just like that, too. "Well," Peter says, finishing his spin - landing on his feet, even as he twists to face #2 - who is riding right up in front of him. "You aren't /with/ the Reverend anymore, right? And--" Peter's arms /sweep/ forward, bear-hugging #2 - who proceeds to squeak and *POOF* in a flash of dust "--we both agree he was a /jerk/, so..." The taunt from #1 apparently hits some kind of button for Rahne; the gritted teeth growl that escapes her is not quite human-sounding, her nose wrinkling with it in an entirely wolfish gesture. She pauses on the last step to toe out of her simple slip-on shoes, and then bolts after him, feet bare and free. "I'll knock ye on yer bahooky, I will," she promises the fictitious boy. Talk of the reverend, though, keeps her from completely focusing on her target. "Aye, well. No," she admits, to Peter, about no longer living with the Reverend Craig. She does not really have a solid argument against sports after that fact. "Whoa," Peter /and/ #1 say in unison; the latter starts backpedaling /fast/. Then, he's just turning around and facing away - /moving/, feet sweeping back and forth as he tries to pick up momentum - enough to escape Rahne's sudden /increase/ in velocity. It's going to be close - but in the end, the boy's waited too long to start booking it. Rahne's on top of him before he reaches high enough speed to outrun her - and in a flash, as soon as she makes contact with him - he's gone, *POOF*. Which leaves #3; closer to Rahne than Peter, the carbon copy of #1 and #2 glares at the wispy little Scot, skating by her as he makes his way toward the tightly clustered series of jungle gyms on the opposite side of the skate park, picking up speed as he moves. Peter, meanwhile, hops toward Rahne - it'll probably take two hops to catch up with her. But just /one/ hop has him bouncing into the air like some sort of grasshopper. As she goes, the wee Scot sprouts a fine coat of reddish fur that Peter has seen before. Her shape alters with each step in subtle ways, as feet become less human and more paw-like, and her hands become stronger and sinewy in kind, claws elongating from her fingers. It is one of those transitionary forms she has been working on, though not a single part of her body which she has proven the most difficult to really get a handle on. Really, her /fastest/ form would be that of the true wolf, but. Well, she's not doing that here. Because then she'd lose her clothes. And wouldn't it be horribly embarrassing later. A pretty triumphant, "Ha!" escapes her when she makes #1 disappear. It serves as a boost to her confidence, that's for sure. Because once she's picked out where #3 is, well, she's off after him without the hesitation of before. "Why Spider? Why nae Cricket?" she asks Peter, as they go. Was that her teasing him? "Oh /man/," #3 shouts, skating /faster/ toward the jungle gyms - picking up as much speed as he can - as he glances back behind him and catches sight of a reddish furred Scot barreling toward him. "Oh /man/ oh /man/ that is /so/ cheating--!" Almost there - but Rahne is catching up. As to her question, Peter grins mid-leap, before replying: "Cuz of this." THWPTHWP - suddenly, two gray strands /lance/ out, catching hold of two metal posts along the way - and then Peter /pulls/, hard and sudden, /flinging/ himself feet first ahead. The space that would have taken two or three jumps is suddenly covered in just one - he lands with a *WHUMP*, right besides Rahne, running so low he's almost on all fours. "Also, spiders are /badass/, crickets are like, what you feed to /frogs/," Peter adds, before also admitting: "You look kinda cool when you do that." Her facial features, too, have started to just slide into something other, though it is hard to describe exactly how or what has really changes. The nose, the brow, her mouth. Vague points, but enough to be different, a little... beastly. Rahne first blinks, then laughs lightly when Peter whumps in next to her, nearly scuttling along. "Crickets are lucky," she counters, as if they need someone to stand in and offer up their pros to counter being frog-food. "Ach, nae, I dinnae." C'mere, #3. And then #3 is /leaping/ atop of the jungle gym; his roller-blades have simply - vanished. So much for /fair/. He's rather quick, too - no sooner has he jumped up on the bars than is he swinging forward, leaping and flinging himself about like some mad monkey - agile little bugger! Peter responds to this by jumping again - 'hup!' - off to the opposite side of the jungle bars, cutting him off - landing with a whump on the very top. Knees bent, hands clutching the bar under him, perched like a frog. Just as Rahne arrives on the /other/ side - #3 squeaks, briefly torn between trying to get past Peter or trying to get past Rahne, frozen at the center of the bars. "You know," Peter informs Rahne as he lands - peering down at #3. "I /have/ been pretty lucky." THWP THWP. Two web-balls fire out, webbing #3's hands to the monkey bars he's clinging to - making him easy pickings for Rahne. Rahne might be more agile in this state than she is usually, but she's no Peter and no monkey-boy. She keeps her feet on the ground instead, to help cordon off #3 and keep him from slipping away. Not at all unlike a wolf that has treed some tasty snack, oh no. Of course, the somewhat seriousness the wee Scot had achieved for the exercise is absolutely ruined when Peter webs #3's hands to the monkey bars, leaving the boy to dangle. She actually stops and guffaws at the sight, before her clawed hands come up to quickly cover her mouth and try to stifle the laughter, though her eyes still squint with the mirth. "Ach, Peter, that's jes' mean," she giggles out. And then moves forward to tag #3 to put him out of his ridiculous misery. "Wait girlio maybe we can cut a /deal/--" Squirm, squirm - Nope. POOF. Somewhere in the distance, the clock has stopped at 2:34; they finished this little scenario with plenty of time to spare. Peter peers down at Rahne as she tags #3, then just /rolls/ forward, dropping head-first between the spokes of the jungle gym - before, at the last moment - THWP! - he's dangling, upside down, right next to her head. BOO! Well, the intent isn't to surprise her, but... "Man, these guys are /jerks/ they just make fun of you the whole time you're chasing them, they totally deserve it," Peter justifies himself, but he's grinning as he explains it. Hair hanging. Glasses crooked. Maybe if Rahne were more up on pop culture, she'd get a kick out of #3's choice of lingo. As it is, though, she just continues to quietly baffle at what sounds mostly like English but has some funny sayings thrown in. Like girlio. Because what. But poof, there he goes. And then thwp, there's Peter. She only jumps just slightly this time. "Aye, well, maybe they're jes' misunderstood," she says, and the wee Scot is only half-kidding about it. She rubs at the back of her neck, and just as they slowly, subtly changed on her run, now her features and physique start to just as subtly shift back, the changes melting away just little by little. "Misunderstood /jerks/," Peter counters, but that's it for that; he suddenly lets himself drop the rest of the way - feet flipping from over his head to the ground with a loud *THUMP*. Shortly after he hits, he watches - with barely contained fascination! - as Rahne's features mold back. And then: "When you do that, do you ever, like - get - /wolf/ thoughts? Like, do you ever want to--" He racks his brain for something that qualifies as a wolf thought. The best he manages: "--hunt down a deer?" Oh look, the fur completely absorbs away just in time for the wee Scot's cheeks to tinge red at Peter's questions. "Erm," she sounds, and her eyes dart to the side, away from him, while one hand rubs at the other arm. She has not been put on the spot about a subject she's skittish about at all, no. Well, this encounter was probably overdue for Peter getting her to blush, anyway. It takes her some thinking, some time to answer, but when Rahne finally does, it is with a questioning whisper, "I like frisbees..?" Even this, though, is a deep, dark secret to admit. Or, you know, so she thinks. Peter /blinks/ at this answer. Blink, blink. Blinkity-blink-blink. "Yeah, but - I mean, everybody likes--" And then, something seems to click in his head. Eyes widening in realization. "Oh - oh you mean like - /oooh/, like - oooh," he finally finishes, apparently satisfied with this. Or is he? His head cocks at her a moment, before asking: "So... like, do you... ever. Um." Shift, shuffle. Scuff. Glance off to the left. "...I mean, is it something you've ever - /tried/?" Is he seriously... suggesting she /chase a frisbee/? Where's Dr. McCoy when you need him? Rahne just looks the other way, the complete opposite direction of where she had been looking, which means she still isn't looking at Peter. The red in her cheeks deepens, but she does admit to a quiet, "Maybe." And then, as if fearing that she has to defend herself for fear of being judged horribly, she suddenly babbles on an explanation of, "It kin be so much fun, jes' runnin' through the grass an' catchin' it, when it's sunny enough out ya kin smell it and the grass and the earth still damp from the last rain and jumpin' up aftar it and--." She makes it that far before running out of steam. Wow, what an interesting... thing on the ground at her feet that she totally never noticed before but now she is going to just stare at. Now /Peter's/ blushing; red-faced, he shoves both his hands deep into his pockets, focusing very /intently/ on one of the nearby monkey-bars. "Well I mean it--sounds--sometimes I just run around the city slinging myself around on my weblines," Peter admits, flustered more by her embarassment than the confession itself. "And it's, basically, pretty awesome, and... I guess that's not the same thing, but - it's almost like /flying/, I mean it totally is--I don't think it's weird. To chase after a frisbee. I think it's--I mean, uh. If you... if you wanted, sometime. I could, I mean. If it's not--/weird/. I could... I wouldn't mind... throwing, um..." "There we are. Sorry about the delay, was just checking on something." SAVED BY DR. MCCOY. "You two ready to end the simulation?" The wee Scot does peek up at Peter when he talks about his web-slinging and the almost flying, because it does sound fantastic. But then she eyes the floor again when he starts fumbling around with what wants to be an offer and ohthere'sdrmccoy. "Aye!" she chimes almost immediately, and with probably too much emphasis. But that's okay, they are totally just standing around, not doing much, anyway, right? Right. And then, quite promptly, the green fields are fading; the scents and sights disappearing with it - leaving them standing, inexplicably, in the same spot they began in - the metal dome-like Danger Room. As if none of it was real in the first place. Peter's /still/ a furious shade of red, and taking pains not to look at Rahne very intently during all of this. "Um, so... uh. Um, that was... a good job for your first DR session...!" "I concur," Dr. McCoy agrees. "Keep in mind, Ms. Sinclair - I kept this session fairly low key on account of it being your first experience. I've found it helps to acclimate students to the DR slowly before engaging in more - outlandish scenarios. But, if you'd like to try additional scenarios - or have a particular session you want to try - I'd be happy to arrange it with your advisor."