From X-Men: rEvolution
Dramatis Personae

Shane, Micah

3 February 2015



<XS> Conservatory

Tall panes of glass keep this large indoor garden warm year round. Tended to by the school's groundskeeper, the conservatory is lush with plant life, a carefully cultivated paradise within Xavier's walls. The room serves as a classroom as well; in the center of the garden a ring of seats forms a small circle, a favorite locale for some teachers to hold court.

Morning at Xavier's isn't a quiet time. Bustly noisy. Busy. People showering, people getting ready, people grabbing foods and finishing last-minute homeworks, getting in early-morning workouts or frantically trying to prepare for class on time. Shane has removed himself from the bustle this morning, tucked out of the way on a bench in the relative peace and quiet of the conservatory. His laptop is on his lap, a thermos of coffee at his side. He's already dressed and ready for school, dark green and grey today in slacks and a vest over a mandarin-collared dress shirt. There's a frown on his face, gills shifting slowly as he picks up his coffee for a long slow sip.

It is a rumour around the school that Micah owns an entire closet full of just the same outfit, over and over, like a cartoon character always drawn in the same clothes. The reason for this is that he nearly always has his day job after his morning class, and as such nearly always comes to Xavier's in his TARDIS-blue polo shirt and khakis. Today he has the addition of a heather grey henley under the polo for warmth. Often enough, he grabs breakfast from the kitchens here before class. Today is no exception, bringing him out with a bowl of cinnamony oatmeal topped in blueberries, a whole banana, a few strips of bacon, and a thermos of strong mocha. A happy sigh greets the conservatory for being both /warm/ and sort of outdoors. Micah wanders a bit, looking for a quieter seat from which to consume his breakfast, spotting Shane in the process. His lips indecisively curl up into a smile, then flatten in concern along with a knitting of eyebrows. “You okay, sugar?” he asks as he slips onto the open half of the bench.

"Huh?" Shane minimizes something on his computer reflexively when the door opens, but relaxes after a brief sniff at the air. He reaches out to snag a piece of bacon off of Micah's plate, lips curling up in to a quick smile. "What? Huh? Am I not okay? Shit." He looks down at his outfit, brows creasing into a deep frown. "I wasn't /entirely/ sure about this green with this grey but I think it works?"

Micah chuckles a little, the bacon-theft predictable enough. He balances his plate on his lap for ease of food consumption. “Y'had kinda a frowny-face an' your gills were goin' when I came in,” he explains easily, nibbling a strip of bacon, as well. “Ohgosh. Y'know I'm about the last person t'ask for fashion advice. /Prob'ly/ better than someone who's colourblind by a little. I think y'look fine.” His head tilts slightly toward Shane. “Somethin' on the computer not workin' right?”

"Oh -- oh, the computer's fine. It's just people are -- being wrong on the internet." Shane's smile is a little bit crooked. He's relaxed at the reassurance about his clothing, unqualified though his judge may be. He chomps on the bacon, tongue flicking hungrily against his lips. "Daiki's registering." This is kind of casual, though his nose wrinkles up. "Doesn't want problems with school otherwise."

“That does seem t'be a constant state of the internet. Don't get sucked into too many fruitless arguments if y'can avoid 'em.” Micah reaches his free hand over to stroke down once over the gills at each side of Shane's neck, then rests the arm across the teen's shoulders. “Oh...he decided. I hadn't heard yet. I'm... Half feel like I should offer /condolences/, but that don't seem quite right, neither. Just wish this was one more thing y'all /didn't/ hafta deal with.” His other hand picks up his spoon, twirling it through his oatmeal before lifting a bite to his mouth.

"They say really stupid things about registration and really /sick/ things about Prometheus and really terrible things about Pa." Shane finishes the bacon in another bite, shoulders slumped beneath Micah's shoulders. "There's still all these mutants missing, you know? From the labs. They never --" He shakes his head sharply. "What do you think will happen with B? I mean she's. Really -- /invested/. In this -- college. Thing. But registering --" His frown deepens.

"No, I...get that. They been...that's been goin' strong for a good while." Micah shudders back a flash of memory, the things being yelled during regular and sometimes violent run-ins on the street while Jax was imprisoned for terrorism. Scooting a little closer to Shane, Micah cradles the sharktwin against his side. "I still get...gnawin' at m'mind and shivers up m'spine whenever I think on 'em. All the folks that was still in the labs when they closed. If...they just killed 'em all. Or hid 'em away in government facilities of a dif'rent kind. Or turned 'em all over t'Osborn or somethin'. I just...can't imagine t'were nothin' good." His lips press thin. "Apologies. Can't imagine that were reassurin' at all." Another spoonful of oatmeal fills his mouth, perhaps buying time for thought before he speaks again. "Prob'ly most colleges'll require it. So ze'll have to if ze wants t'do that. It's...also not that reassurin'. But for y'all more'n most it's more symbolic than practical. The government already knows who you are an' where you are. 'Cause of Jax. An' they already know all 'bout how your mutations work, 'cause of Prometheus. It' it's more just principle an' symbol for y'all than most. But it's a /big/. Principle. Symbol. Protest. Or not." He doesn't sound particularly happy about any of it.

"I think /all/ of us had friends still in there -- some kids still had family. I mean. They're probably dead." Shane's gills flutter slightly. "For /us/ it's kind of more symbolic than anything, I mean, it's not like /we/ can hide, whether we're registered or not everyone knows what we are. In general I don't know, though. Like I think if Prometheus was /sharing/ what they knew --" He shifts uncomfortably on his seat. "It just doesn't seem like they are. Or I don't think Hive would be here any more, you know? He's -- if /I/ were the government /I'd/ get rid of people like him."

Micah drops his spoon to fist his hand up and circle it over his heart, squeezing Shane a little tighter. “It's that much harder not knowin'.” His fingers stretch up to stroke down at Shane's gills again. “An', that's also true. It ain't like y'all are stealthy, even if y'wanted t'be. I just...I can't /figure/ Prometheus. They /were/ the government. You'd think the government'd /have/ all their data. But maybe they walled it off for plausible deniability, y'know? An' that means that not ev'ryone knows ev'rythin'. I'm just glad. Where the gaps are helpful. Like with Hive.”

"I'm sure the data must be there. Doesn't mean it's getting shared though. I mean all that stuff was super classified, right? When Pa and Dusk were arrested they wouldn't even say what evidence was against them because it was all --" Shane puts a finger to his lips. "So maybe nobody's allowed to look at the data now." This thought makes him grin. But a moment later the smile fades. "On the other hand maybe it'd have been better. If Hive was deported."

"Hrmn...not sure how much of that was legitimately classified an' how much was them jerkin' 'em around 'cause they /could/." Micah's shoulders bunch up, muscles tensing visibly. He stuffs another spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth less out of hunger and more due to time constraints before classes start. Still need to get while the getting's good. "It'd suit me well enough if alla that information got...lost, destroyed, put so deep under lock'n key that no one ever gets t'look at it. S'bad enough what they did t'get it an' who they did it to. But how they was plannin' t'use it. S'all...all of it bad. Good if it's gone." Micah can't help but nod a little at this last. "It should be his choice, though. Never take choice away from people if it can be avoided. But. With this dream business. Don't know as even bein' in Thailand'd keep away from 'im." His eyes squeeze tight for a moment, blinking back open. "I just wish I knew what he'd /done/. What he's doin'. How t'help b'yond just...keepin' is /body/ intact for 'im."

"... Hm." Shane's inner eyelids slide shut. His gills ripple again, and he reaches for his coffee, taking a long slow sip. "Hm." His claws drum against the side of the thermos. After a moment he shakes his head again quickly. "If he'd been deported," Shane points out pensively, "he might have just died before it got to this point."

Micah's next mouthful of food proves entirely too thick and tasteless, taking more effort than it should to get into a swallowing state. “I don't know. I don't... Is that better? Ev'ryone seems t'think it's better. Whenever it's an option.”

"I don't know." There's a tightness in Shane's shoulders. "I was hanging out with him. At the Solstice party. Before that. He was /happy/. He couldn't stand up or feed himself maybe but he could /enjoy/ himself. And then something changed and he wouldn't even /see/ people and when he comes back he --" His eyes fix down on the thermos. "Yeah, I think it was better."

“He was still healin'. Gettin' back to 'imself. /Unexpectedly/. S'a huge shift t'deal with that. Couldn't say if it was just...temporary. But then /this/. Whatever this is.” Micah's head shakes. He blinks hard again, shovels another spoonful of oatmeal into his face.

"Come on, Ba, don't be an idiot. Sometimes you're /really/ naive, you know." Shane scrubs a hand against his cheek. "Getting /back/ to himself? /Healing/? Where have you even been the past year and a half? It wasn't the /tumour/ that made him lose himself and getting rid of it sure as hell wouldn't get him back. And now he's just jumped straight off into --" His gills flutter faster. "I don't even know what the fuck. But hiving people like this /already/ killed him once. And now you look at him and there's definitely no /Hive/ there."

"He changed his mind. He asked for healers. But he weren't /talkin'/ 'bout it. What else was I s'posed t'think?" Micah's head shakes more firmly this time. "This dream stuff. It makes y'crazy. Tryin' t'keep it from happenin'. Whatever he did, he thought...he was helpin' it. I know he's not there. I been 'round 'im enough t'see he's not there. I just don't know...what. Why. How. Any of it. I wish he'd told us what he was plannin'. It's like most folks is /allergic/ t'talkin' things out anymore."

"I don't care what you were supposed to think /before/ but what you're saying /now/ just sounds fucking dumb. Like you just always want to pretend /something/ is going okay even when everything is clearly totally shit." Shane slumps against Micah's side, his voice quieter with the quicker shift of his gills. "... I just miss him."

“S'because not /every single thing/ is always goin' wrong at once. I'm not pretendin'. Just. Know what it looks like when it's /worse/.” Micah leans his head in a little, resting his cheek on the top of Shane's head. His fingers continue to coax the teen's gills to lie flat. “Me, too.”

Shane turns his head in against Micah's shoulder, mooshing his face up against the polo shirt. The flutter of his gills slows, pressing downwards though they still attempt to open back up slowly. "It's just weird. I keep thinking what if we don't get him back. And it's like, I'd gotten all /ready/ for him to be dead, you know? But this feels worse."

Slowing or not, Micah's fingers continue their steady petting over Shane's gills. "I'm real worried 'bout 'im. Usually he'd...there'd at least be a sign? Or he'd be in your head, y'know? This time... It's just like he's gone." Chewing at his lip, he stares down at the remnants in his bowl, not bothering with eating anymore. "I weren't never ready for it."

"I just wanted him to have some peace. It was almost nice, for a little while. Not like I wanted him dead. But he was smiling and happy and --" Shane's eyes scrunch shut. "Fff. {Sorry}. I should probably. Get to class." Though he doesn't actually stand up.

“No, I wouldn't think no one /wanted/ that.” Micah leaves off the gill-petting to circle both arms around Shane and hug tight. “Y'got a few minutes yet. But soon. Need t'be gettin' there, yeah.”

"Yeah. Soon." Shane's arm circles back around Micah, squeezing in tight.