ArchivedLogs:Communication in Silence

Communication in Silence
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Rasa	2013-02-22 Two of Xavier's students exchange words. On paper and hand, respectively.
Location <XS> Library
Xavier's librarian might hope the library is a quiet place to sit and study, but with a school full of teenagers that is not always the case. Nevertheless, it is certainly a treasure trove of knowledge, well-stocked with a wealth of books on its high shelves. Its reference section is vast, though its fiction is as well (much to the delight of many of its students.) The wide octagonal tables and smaller armchairs are often crowded with students, though the whispered conversations that often take place leave some doubt as to how much work is getting done at any given hour. It's still relatively early in the day, and students sit scattered across Xavier's library. It's relatively quiet, thanks to the librarian currently making the rounds, checking for book availability. You never know, the bunch of kids that goes here, what might be stolen on a daily basis. One of the books missing from its shelves, yet not checked out, is easy enough to locate- Ivan sits at one of the long tables, seeming absolutely confused by the piece of literature he's trying to get through today. The name "HITCHENS" is printed along the middle of its cover, and it looks like it just might be a little too much for poor Ivan, who seems very lost indeed. Every now and then he leans to the side to jotdown some notes in Russian, interspersed with English. There are a lot of question marks. Rasa appears from the back of the library with a stack of books that ze has selected off the shelves. Ze sits down at Ivan's to peruse them without really looking at the other student. Ze is sporting hir usual protective gear - long sleeves, long leggins, but wears a goofy cotton knee length skirt in gray and black with a short sleeved, 'Misfits' tee over hir boring under shirt. Ze taps at the edge of one of hir books as ze reads the back cover, considering. Ze looks over at Ivan and raises a brow as ze tries to read what he is reading. Now that Rasa is closer to it, the cover is much more easily read. Hitchens is apparently /Christopher/ Hitchens, and the title of the red-and-white-clad book reads "Letters to a Young Contrarian". Ivan shifts in his chair uncomfortably as he turns his attention to his book and then his notes, again brows kniting together with concentration. The movement from another student nearby takes a minute to even get through to him, but when he does finally look up, the mild frustration shown on his face seems washed away instantly. There is no verbal greeting and no nod in the relatively quiet library. There is a smile, however. But it is short. Barely a second later, he is back to his notes, pressing his pen down on the paper in a rushed scrawl of words. Some of them are crossed through, until at last, he tears off a piece of paper and slides it over to Rasa. It says simply, 'hi'. Rasa glances up at the note, both brows rising. Ze reaches out to turn the paper toward hir so ze can read it before ze pushes it back to him. Ze pulls hir hand back and strips off hir glove before putting it back, halfway across the table. The back of hir hand reads, 'hi.' Ivan beams at this, and quickly takes his own note and shoves it under his pile of paper, tearing a new piece off to slide over after some more frantic scribbling. His handwriting leaves a lot to be desired, but that's what you get when you're used to writing a different alphabet all together. 'I like your shirt', the second note reads, once it's slid over. Underneath, it says 'are you a misfit?' Rasa takes the pieces of paper one at a time and reads them, then leaves hir hand there, ready for more - and with a reply. 'Oh no,' Hir skinscript changes font depending on hir mood, the current one flowy and very legible perhaps in compensation for Ivan's scrawl. 'Well, maybe. The tee shirt is from a band with that name.' Ze gives a little shrug and a little smile. Ivan studies Rasa's hand as closely as he can without falling out of his chair, and hopefully without getting too uncomfortably close as well. His smile shrinks back to a content simper and he closes the book he was reading entirely. The next note that is slid over reads, 'I like reading your hand'. Then, in smaller handwriting, 'librarian wont let me use spiders here because a person yelled at me'. He looks simultaneously guilt-ridden and a little confused at this verdict. 'it's incredibly silly to punish the quiet party for a noise disruption.' Rasa replies, moving one book from hir stack and pulling over another to inspect. Most of these books are not meeting with hir approval. 'i am sorry you are spiderless.' Ivan puts his pen down, now, apparently done writing notes. The look of guilt leaves him, which is actually sort of strange considering what happens next- a quartet of cellar spiders pushes its way out of his shirt sleeve, in Rasa's line of view. They're dangly looking things, and explore the arm they're on and the table with tentative eight-legged steps. Not entirely spiderless, then. The look he shoots Rasa is one of excitement, before he remembers the librarian and whips his head around to look whether he's been spotted breaking rules /already/. Not yet, it seems. Saved by the bell - or rather the chime that lets the students know that it is time to get ready for class. Being the studious type, Rasa starts packing up immediately. Ze smiles at the spiders on parade, but is now in a bit of a hurry. Ze raises a hand one last time, the message reads 'see you later.' Ze then waves and runs off. Ivan's attention snaps back to Rasa, and rather than be sad, he simply widens his smile again and lifts a hand in a timid wave good bye. It's only after he puts his hand back down on the table that he remembers there were spiders attached to that raised arm. His eyes widen as he searches for them, and breathes a sigh of relief when they are nowhere to be found- released from his loose mental leash in distraction. Whoop. Ivan freezes as the librarian comes into view, then quietly reaches for his book again to hide behind its open pages. Time to pretend nothing is wrong. Hitchens, save me.