Logs:Monsters and Math

Monsters and Math
Dramatis Personae Kurt, Nessie	2024-04-17 “Vas?”
Location <XAV> Conservatory - Xs First Floor
Tall panes of glass and a many-gabled glass ceiling protect this large indoor garden from the elements, while welcoming in sunlight to keep it warm year-round. Adjoined to the southern face of the venerable mansion and surrounded by more conventional gardens beyond, the conservatory is all Old World elegance from the outside. Within, however, it is lush and green and in certain corners--whether despite its careful tending by the groundskeeper or because of it--seems practically wild. Footpaths and a burbling artificial steam wind through the space, connecting its disparate parts. Benches are scattered throughout, thorough soft grasses or mosses under certain trees also invite rest. The outside wall is lined with tropical and subtropical plants. The ferns and cycads and epiphytes are kept moist by artfully hidden misters that also give the place a sort of magical ambiance, dense foliage wreathed at times with drifting patches of mist. Nearest the building is a desert in miniature, with a few impressively sized cacti as well as palo verde and other trees adapted to arid climes. Between these, and by far the largest section, is dedicated temperate zone plantlife from around the world, the beds growing more carefully manicured and the pads less winding as one approaches the center, where a clearing with a small ring of seats is a popular spot for some teachers to hold court. It's dinner time, and no doubt the Great Hall is loud and bustling. It's a little quieter in here, at least, though quite a few students have elected to bring their food over to this more verdant environment, clustered around in small knots to chatter and eat. Nessie is at the moment by herself, tucked under a lemon tree with her plate of lasagna set to the side. The scorpion -- girl? Boy? It's extremely hard to tell at a glance with her alien physiology and her extremely generic outfit today of "old Xavier's tee" -- has her many legs folded beneath her, a tablet held in one hand. She's only intermittently remembering her food, more engaged at the moment with adding notes to a draft article about the Chess Team's New Advisor pulled up on her screen. Kurt has never seen the Great Hall so bustling. And the time he had spent away, much of it was in solitude (to a point). To be surrounded by people again— and not just people, but mutants— felt like a surreal dream. Where he would fit in back at the school was not a question— he would be teaching drama and history. But other times like this, he finds himself simply wandering around, food in hand. It feels too invasive to sit at a table with students who don’t know him yet, and finding an empty table is not going to happen. With his tail holding his water bottle and one hand holding the plate, Kurt finds himself in the more quiet, more green area. “It’s all changed so much in such a short time,” he finds himself saying aloud, a note of fondness in his voice. "Wo-o-oah." All six of Nessie's black eyes are widening as Kurt draws into sight. She's getting to her feet with a busy unfolding of arachnoid legs -- standing makes her abruptly loom large where before she had not taken up quite as much space. Her barbed tail is curling close against her back as she skitters hastily over, peering at Kurt one way and then another. Her immediate first question, without bothering with a greeting or introduction, is: "How do you feel about math?" “Vas?” Kurt blinks, looking at who he assumes is a student. Yet, a question was asked. “I feel I am very lucky indeed not to teach it,” he answers. “It’s not really my forte, liebe .” With a free , three-digit hand, Kurt extended his to shake. “Kurt Wagner, returning teacher. It’s nice to meet you.” "Oh, that's fine," Nessie is quick to reassure Kurt. She isn't shaking his hand, looking just mildly bemused at this Old Person Gesture but carrying on blithely: "I'm pretty sure the new chess club advisor does not even know how the pieces get set up. Qualifications around this school are very optional. Anyway, you don't have to do any math to join math club, you just have to be a monster. We tried having Chess Club but the bogs took it over." Her tone here is deeply morose, although the morosity lasts all of .5 seconds before she's continuing to explain: "We already have an advisor buuut he's only a monster part-time so it would be great to have a backup for when he's got his boring face on and you look pretty old so." “A.. what?” Monster? Bogs? Kurt’s thoughts raced overtime trying to make sense of this entire speech before he lowered his hand. Had his English abandoned him? “A moment, please— are you calling yourself a monster?” Shane had used similar phrases but somehow it sounded… different? coming from a young man Kurt knows well. Also— old!? Kurt isn’t sure if he should laugh or ask more questions. "A -- you know," one of Nessie's lower arms is gesturing with its pincer in the general direction of her face, which, given its hard carapace and several pairs of eyes is not actually particularly illustrative given that her follow up is: "normal-looking mutant. Bog. What do they call them where you're --" She arrests this thought midsentence, peering more hopefully at Kurt. "Wait do you come from some place with only monsters, I want to go there. Like, the other kind is alright, you know, but they stare almost as much as humans do." Kurt feels himself blink again, “I am not so sure we should be calling each other such, erm. Names like that.” Was this slang? The interesting thing was, while there were times Kurt felt at odds with himself in the outside world, he liked what he looked like. He has never known another form and never tried to seek one out. “It could feel more divisive, ja?” His tone softens, however, understanding in part as to what she means. Who is he to tell a young girl how to handle being stared at by both humans and mutants alike? “I’m from here— well,” he amends, “Bavaria. But I came here years ago and have been away for some time. I’m afraid I don’t know these terms. We always just said ‘mutants’.” "Hmm." Now Nessie is backing up a couple of skittering steps, looking down at Kurt critically. She taps her stylus at her tablet, opening up a notepad that she is jotting quick notes down in while talking. "Sorry, what did you say your name was -- Mr. -- Vogler? Something?" She lifts a shoulder casually. "Anyway there's mutants and then there's mutants, you know? Like if I'm walking down the street and if --" Her tail absently flicks towards a knot of students a short ways away, three girls who all look wildly different from each other but all look perfectly Passable As Human, "-- they're walking down the street, sure, everyone might hate mutants buuuuut our street experience is gonna be a little different, you know? You can't tell me nobody stared at you even when you just came here. Ooooor," she's biting down on her lip a little uncertainly. "-- are you one of those don't see race people because math club is very divided you have no idea how hard I have been working to keep a space for just us." Kurt shakes his head, tail and hands raising up in a ‘I come in peace’ motion, smiling a little wider as his fangs show. “Nein , you are very correct and it would be foolish to think otherwise.” He places the plate of food down at her table — also lasagna— and flicks his tail to do the same with his water bottle. “And it’s Wagner,” he enunciates carefully, the W softened into a V. “But my teammates call me Nightcrawler.” “Forgive me, I’m as you say— old and I’m not used to this, eh, slang and way of thinking. Vas ist you’d like to plan, a sort of space for your own?” She’s perceptive and bold. Kurt likes her fearlessness already. "Liiike -- a worm?" Nessie is hazarding, tilting her head to one side as she looks the new-old teacher over. "I guess worms are really cool we wouldn't eat without them." She's trotting back toward her own food, sinking back to a less loom-y height as her legs fold underneath her. "Don't you ever just want to, like, hang out, somewhere nobody stares at you for being all --" She's waving a pincer-claw towards Kurt's face, now. "For a while chess club was only-monsters and I thought that was safe enough because chess club was for total dorks and nobody wanted to join but then somehow chess got popular, I'm blaming Sera, and so I had to find something even more lame than chess club. Math for Monsters now. And Mr. da Costa runs it but like I said he's only sometimes --" Though here she's stopping and squinting her largest and most forward-facing pair of eyes at Kurt thoughtfully. "You don't, um, like, stop looking cool part-time do you? I cannot be taking chances." “I assure you, I am blue and fuzzy all the time,” Kurt says, motioning to himself and fork in hand. “Und ja, like the worm but I feel my foster mother did not know about the worm when we were picking stage names in the circus.” He eats a bite, savoring food he did not have to cook himself that was also warm. Mmm. “Acrobat,” he adds quickly lest the student’s imagine run wild (and sadly even correctly) towards ‘freak show’. “I understand a bit better now,” Kurt concedes, more than a little chagrin. “A place fully free of initial shock.” It’s true and been a sore spot among mutants that even among the persecuted mutants there were still some… maybe not prejudices per se, but still something with an unpleasant aftertaste. A freak among freaks. “I wouldn’t want to be stepping over Mr. da Costa’s toes— would he be all right with my helping?” "Woah." Nessie has fully forgotten her own lasagna and is instead jotting down more notes. She does look visibly relieved at Kurt's reassurance that the blue fur is Not Just A Phase. "They still have circuses? Does your tail help with acrobatting? How do you learn -- acrob...ics?" Her mouth purses and twists slightly to the side. "I haven't asked him but I'm sure he won't mind, if he gets fussed he can just buy like, ten more math clubs, probably. "-- What are you going to be teaching, anyway? Will you teach circus stuff?" Kurt tucks his chin down to try and hide his grin but fails. His eyes crinkle in mirth. “They did, and maybe still do but the one I grew up in is not around anymore,” he says smoothly. “Und ja, my tail helps with acrobatics. Fencing, fighting, grabbing things—“ he demonstrates by grabbing his bottle of water and taking a sip. “Much like another appendage.” Despite the assurances, Kurt makes a mental note to check in with Roberto anyway, just to be safe. But he’s fairly sure it will be all right— right? Better safe than sorry. “I believe Mr. Summers has me down for drama und history. But,” he adds a little conspiratorial, “I am sure there will be time for the history of circus stuff.” Nessie is giving another very approving nod to the picking-up of the water bottle. Above her broad back, her own barbed tail curls a little lower. "That sounds neat. My tail mostly only helps with poison and you'd think that'd come in handy a lot but it weirdly doesn't that much." She's pursing her lips, the most forward pair of her legs flexing experimentally. "Hmm. History's alright. There's probably not a lot of circus stuff designed for scorpions anyway, arachnids typically not that agile." She clips her stylus to the side of her tablet and pulls herself back to her many feet. "Okay-okay I gotta go tell the others, they're gonna be excited. You might be like," she's considering this quite seriously before declaring (in a tone that suggests this is solid praise): "the third coolest blue person we've had." Kurt gives a small bow after finishing his food. “I take the title with pride, danke.” He gestures to her tablet but asks, “So tell me about yourself. How long have you been at the school? Maybe, your name?” "Mr. Salinas brought me here to infect everyone, like, forever ago at the beginning of COVID so it's been --" Nessie is contemplating and then giving an exaggeratedly theatrical sigh, "-- an eternity. I guess it could be worse some people have been here a lifetime and don't have anywhere else to go." With as little farewell as she gave in greeting, she's starting to scurry off -- only to turn back around with an eep and snatch up her forgotten (probably cold, by now), plate of lasagna. "-- Oh and it's Nessie!" And then, with a small flick of her tail, she is skittering off For Real. “Have a good night, Nessie,” Kurt calls out to her as she leaves, gathering his cutlery, plates and now empty bottle. As much as he regrets being gone so long, he has to admit this is one doozy of a welcoming.