ArchivedLogs:An Appropriate Conflict

An Appropriate Conflict
Dramatis Personae Heather and Paige	2017-05-31 "Your student," she begins simply. "Asked me out to dinner the other night."
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Sunroom - Lower East Side
Bright and warm, this room is set up to enjoy a little bit of the outdoors even year-round. Tall glass panes make up most of its wall in between wood supports, providing a wide three-sided view of the garden and yard outside. As well as the inner doors leading back into the kitchens and dining room, an outer door leads out to the outdoor gardens, as well. Inside, the room is airy and green -- a plethora of potted herbs and plants hang from the ceiling, as well as ring the room in a series of narrow wooden raised-beds that provide growing space for a selection of herbs year-round. Outside of the herb beds that ring the room, this place is designed simply to come and relax; quiet and simple, with clean stone floors and neutral-toned wicker furniture adorned with comfortable cushioning. Some of the chairs ring stone-and-glass tables for eating or conversing; a few more solitary seats come in the form of rocking chairs or netted hammock-chairs hanging from the ceiling. The ambient light is fading as the sun continues setting upon the horizon. It is quiet inside the sunroom, aside from the gently tapping of raindrops on the glass windows. Some faint strains of noise can be heard coming from the kitchen and strains of noise can be heard coming from the kitchen. A few Commoners can be seen outside meandering through the gardens despite the light rain. Paige reclines in one of the rocking chairs, hooves dangling over one arm rest, book in hands. Heather sits up in the hammock chair, her journal open, the rapid scratch of pen against paper and the momentary turn of the page being the only sounds that's been coming from her direction for some time. Eventually, though, she does come up from her focused writing to look up and out towards the garden, raising her tinted goggles up to take in the last bit of light in the day. She taps the back of her pen against her cheek a few times in thought. Paige takes a deep breath before pausing in her reading and setting the book down. Apparently the last passage she read is a cause for some thought indeed. Her ears twitch as the the scratching ceases and tilts her head back to look upside down towards Heather. "Your student," she begins simply. "Asked me out to dinner the other night." There's a moment of silence before she appends the clarifying: "Eve." Heather seems about to respond before Paige speaks the second time. She reconsiders, moving back on the initial recording to record over it. "That's a phrase with more than one meaning. There is more subtext than just to eat. That's right?" She places the pen down in the fold of the book and flips the hard cover so that it remains propped slightly open. "What did you do?" There's a hint of red on her face as the goat girl rights herself in the seat, now sitting in it as its creator most likely intended. "Yeah. Yeah ... there is. I ... well, I said yes ... ?" Paige voice contains a trace of searching in its ending inflection. "I mean, I was, uh, flattered? She is nice and she is sweet and she is kind of cute?" Taking another deep breath, she tilts her head back and closes her eyes. "But she's sixteen. I don't -- yes, I like her in ways, but ... it isn't really appropriate." An eye is cracked open, cast in Heather's direction, as she lowers her head again. "I don't know. She's still in high school. Maybe she just ... kind of looks up to me? And she ... has a crush on me as a result? I don't know. I mean, I -do- like her, but it's not appropriate, right? I have ... stupid feelings." Heather stares off over the garden while Paige speaks with her recorder resting on her knee. She lifts it up and replies, "It is possible she does look up to you. I do not know much about her tastes." A slight shrug of one shoulder is offered during a pause on the recording, "I cannot tell you what is or is not appropriate. That is in the realm of things I am not a good judge of. I understand that five years can mean a lot to someone who is young. And as more time passes, five years starts to mean less and less." The furred mutant's gaze settles on the floor as one of her hands starts to fidget anxiously. With a sigh, she looks up again and runs the hand through the hair between her horns. "Yeah. I ... know. It's all ... there's just so much -stuff-, you know? They're always kind of really, really saying that you have to --" Paige gestures with a have of her hand. "-- you know, stay inside your own age-group. That kind of stuff. And I ... " Trailing off, she lets out long breath. "I have ... crushes on just about everyone. I don't know why." She scratches behind an ear as she bites her lip. "I don't know if it's just that I'm really lonely or if it's something to do with ... being a mutant. The mutant that I am." "Crushes on everyone. Is that new? I am not sure if having a crush on many people is considered a mutant ability. It does not seem practical," decides Heather, rubbing under her own chin lightly. "Not that all mutations seem to be practical." She raises her hands at this, but the recording continues. "Who is the they that you are talking about?" Paige blinks at Heather in apparent disbelief for a few seconds. "You know," she emphasizes with a gesturing hand. "Society. People. Them. Everyone? Like, I get it. It's what you said - five years isn't a long time later on. But now it is? And if she -does- look up to me, what kind of role model am I?" The goat girl lowers her head and rubs her face. "I dropped out of college. I left home without a plan. I -am- lonely. But I don't have any right to screw up -her- life -too-." Her jaw works for a moment before she continues. "And I don't know! There aren't really any -resources- telling me all about my mutation on the Internet, -are- there?" Her tone has an irritated, frustrated edge to it. Heather tilts her head slightly at Paige's last question. "There are lots of things on the internet. I have never looked for information about your mutation. I expect the internet will not know. I do not know what kind of role model you are." She bites her lip for a few moments and then asks, "Are these questions I am supposed to have the answer to? They are outside of my scope. I do not know if you need to be a role model. That is not your job. Is it?" Face still in her hands, she replies, "Isn't it, though? I'm not good for anything other than helping other people." She sighs again and her tone softens. "No. You're not supposed to have the answers to these questions." Paige raises her head. "And if you did, I'd be really impressed. Shit - if you had the answers to things like that, people would flock to you." Staring out the windows, the horned mutant cracks a small grin which then quickly fades. "I'm -- Apologies. I am just feeling ... conflicted. I don't know how my life is supposed to go." "Nobody knows how their life is supposed to go," plays Heather. "Or maybe if you can tell the future. Hm. No. Then you just know how it does go. Not how it is supposed to." She stands up from the hammock chair and starts to do some stretches. "Existing can be hard enough. Knowing how to exist best is harder." Paige lets out yet another sigh and her shoulders slump as her ears twitch. "I just want to know if I am doing the right thing. The right -things-." She presses her hands into her forehead, moving them along the outside edge of where her horns emerge. "I want to know I am not making the wrong decisions or the wrong choices or screwing up anybody's life but mine." The rocking chair tilts away as she stands up herself. "I'll see you back at the unit, alright? I think I'm going to head to sleep. Or to think. And then sleep."