ArchivedLogs:Daunting

Daunting
Dramatis Personae Dorian Siccavil, Jackson, Kelly	2013-11-17 '
Location <XS> Art Room - FL2
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. With school back in session after this weekend but a rather topsy-turvy few weeks, there are a number of newer students still needing the actual /school/ part of school sorted out. To this end, a portion of Jackson's afternoon has been reserved for navigating the paperwork part of school; he has a small stack of folders, one for each of the newest students, and has sent for them to come down in order to get their school lives in order. Most of the teachers have offices for this purpose, but Jackson is instead perched on a stool at one of the tall tables, absently sketching in a sketchbook while he waits. A city underwater, skeleton-fish swimming through smashed-out windows. Today he actually looks colourful again. Less apocalyptic. More like his normal self. His sparkly purple boots have been cleaned of their blood-and-grime coating. His jeans are dark, black with faint silver pinstripes. He wears a purple-and-silver tank top beneath a black fishnet shirt, and his makeup dusted over his eye and shimmering on his lips is black but shimmers with rainbow glitter. His beard is still growing out, dark and scruffy, and his hair still carries flame colouring at its tips. Kelly fidgits a little nervously with a broken pencil in one hand and a cheap notebook in the other. There are a few things noted on the pages in messy handwriting. 'Last class in 2011.', 'Will there be a test?', 'Dance', 'Intro Drawing Sounds Fun', 'History... YUCK', 'Uhm, how will they know my old grades?' The diversion to the art room wasn't so bad, at least this was less intimidating than down stairs, and he sat on one of the stools, his toes hooked into one of the feet rest. He was a little pale this afternoon, with his freckles the only real color on his skin, and those were barely pink. A series of fresh scabs on his hands, and a healthy dusting of dirt and grass stains were fresh. But his flowers were in full bloom, their pink petals turning red at the edges. In the time since being sprung from the laboratories, Dorian has had a hectic life. Even without the zombie apocalypse, the young man has had some trouble aclimating to the world outside, and now he is somewhat nervously sneaking his way down to the Art Room from his assigned bedroom. He is wearing a mix of the scavenged clothes from his initial rescue, a pair of faded jeans, modified to allow his long furry tail freedom to hang behind him, paired with a somewhat oversized tank top that leaves the thick brown fur of his shoulders and upper free and open to the air, the handful of scars on his arms also visible. There's a moment's hesitation as he knocks on the door, flinching at the noise it makes, "Um... um... hi? Sorry, I saw that I was supposed to come down and talk to you, but I didn't want to interrupt if someone else was already in here, so I can come back later if it's not a good time now." Ruffling a hand through his hair, he stands in the doorway, fidgetting with his hands and looking nervous, eyes darting between Jax and Kelly. "Hi, Dorian, come on in." Jackson waves the younger man inside, gesturing to an empty stool. "Nope, now's a good time, though I'll be here till 'bout five if you /wanted/ to come back later. I know things've been /beyond/ chaotic, but I'm here t'try an' make it jus' a little smoother, aright? It might not hardly seem like it just yet but we do have school here sometimes." He sets his sketchpad down in front of him, his pencil twirling quick and restless between his fingers. "Y'all shoulda been set up with student accounts for the network here -- I don't know if you've had no chance to look over the courses yet, s'all posted online, but it's alright if not. We can jus' figure out what you're interested in an' what places y'might need some catchin'-up an' go from there." "Hi." Kelly offered the newly arrived Dorian with a bright smile of his own, and raised up a hand in greeting as he blushed and shrugged in place. "I'm Kelly." He said, and then used his other hand to try and tamp down some wiggling vines who seemed to have a mind of their own. His voice was quiet, though, only speaking a little louder when he turned to Jackson with a meek expression. "Well, uhm, this is the part where I hope you don't think I'm too far gone and give up on me." He laughs out, but the laugh was only halfhearted. "I've not been to school in a while and, well, kinda had other things to worry about..." "I mean, if I'm not interrupting, I'd kinda like to get to look at classes and stuff, since it'll probably take kinda a while since I haven't, y'know, um, been in school in, um, forever," Dorian babbles quickly, stepping further into the art room, wringing his hands. "I, uh, well, I couldn't really look them up online, I'm, well," he stutters, looking at Kelly, and then down at a dried bit of paint on the floor in front of his bare, webbed feet, "I've never used a computer before to look stuff up. Wasn't something we had at home, and well, not like thye gave us laptops or nothing in..." Making his way forward, he takes the seat on the stool, perching on it with his feet curled around the top rung of the stool, Dorian offers a bright smile to Kelly. "Hi!" he chirps, the tiny rounded ears atop his head perking up with interest, "I'm Dorian. I guess we're both kinda new students at the same time I think?" He tilts his head to the side, curiously, the grin not faltering - though there is a a slight flinch at the sight of the wriggling vines, one hand instinctively covering a long thin scar on his arm. "Y'ain't interruptin', honey-honey," Jackson reaffirms patiently to Dorian. He closes his sketchpad, instead lifting up the pile of folders to retrieve a glossy-covered school coursebook out from beneath the stack, resting it in front of himself but not yet opening it. "I can absolutely assure you y'won't be startin' no farther behind than other students have before -- we've had kids come in here at high school age who've literally never been t'school a day in their lives. Ain't always easy for some folks to find places that'll accept 'em, so we're pretty used to workin' with students who ain't had the most traditional education path 'fore now." He's still somewhat restless where he sits, swivelling the round seat of his stool back and forth. "Later on this week," he seems to be addressing Kelly more than Dorian, here, "y'can talk with Professor Grey an' she'll see about gettin' transcripts up till now. But for now we kinda just want to get you settled and started integratin'. There's requirements for what sorts of credits y'all are gonna /need/ to graduate, but this first term y'can just focus on findin' classes you /like/. We'll get you tutors to help get up to speed on the core subjects. What kindsa things are y'all /interested/ in, though?" Dorian watches as Kelly leaves, suddenly feeling nervous that he really was interrupting, but he looks down at the papers. "It's been close to a decade since I was in school, sir. I had some books and stuff when I was, um, in there, but it wasn't anything like school?" he tilts his head slightly, ruffling his hair. "I mean, I like art classes, and I'm kinda getting good at languages, sorta. I grew up speaking French, and Enlgish and stuff, and I kinda am liking sign language, it's kinda neat," he looks down at his hands, at the scarring, "It's kinda making me less conscious about them." His ears flatten into his hair momentarily, and he looks at the book, "Other, um, other than that, I dunno? I like people? People are nice." Jackson's lips curl into a quick smile, bright and warm, glittery-nailed fingers fluttering towards the room around them. "I kinda got a bias towards art classes," he admits cheerfully, "I hear the art department's got some'a the best teachers." He drops his hand back onto the table, glancing down towards it too -- heavily scarred from its acid-pockmarked etching to the uneven stub where his littlest finger used to be. His smile quirks a little more lopsided. "Thing about here is everyone's got their stories. Makes it that much harder t'judge, I guess. -- Could take a more focused sign language course, for actual class credit. I think the seminars goin' are really just gonna be good for the fundamentals. An' there's a few different intro art classes if you'd like that. Some English ones that'll let you read a lot. -- I think you're kinda gonna be around /people/ no matter /what/ you do here." "I liked when they'd let us play with the art supplies at the labs. It was kinda nice to get to do that without the armed guards looming over us getting ready to drag us away at any moment," Dorian admits, idly flipping through the pages of the book. His wide eyes linger on Jax's hand, head tilting curiously, his mouth starting to open in a question, but not quite knowing how to phrase it, of it if is ok to ask. "I think I'd like that. Getting to do the sign language courses more indepth? It means I can talk to more people. Which would be nice, sometimes, I think?" he bables, nodding, fidgetting with the signing as he does, having to finger spell it a bit, although his fingers don't move with the speed and dexterity they should. "I don't mind reading. I like books - books are kinda neat, and and I just want to go to school. 'Swhy I ended up at the labs in the first place, was 'cause it was s'posed to be a school. Not... that," he shivers, rubbing his arms as he does. "Oh! Oh. Are... are we allowed to go swimming? In the lake? I know it's not a good time now with everything goin on and all, but, um, I haven't been in open water in.... um.... forever." "If you like the people you're talkin' to," Jackson says, with quiet amusement. "There's a couple students here who communicate primarily in sign, so it's always pleasant for them if other people take the time to learn." He glances back down at his hand when he catches Dorian's gaze lingering, his fingers wiggling briefly. "I come outta those labs, too," he says lightly, "I think more people here'll understand where you're comin' from than you know." His smile curls a little wider at the last question. "You can go in it. S'pretty freezin' cold about now but students swim in it a lot in the summer. S'a indoor pool in the basement, too, for when the lake's icin' over. My kids actually live in the water. I mean, they got dorms for keepin' their /stuff/ in but it's hard for them to sleep on land so --" He shrugs a shoulder. "Definitely kids're allowed in it. Though just at the moment y'probably shouldn't swim till we can make sure the water's -- safe." His attention turns back to the coursebook, after this. "Each term students can take a maximum of six an' a minimum of four classes. Since you're only jus' startin' out with school after bein' out so long, why don't we start you off with jus' four to ease you back into things? We can arrange for tutoring for you in the other two periods each day, so you're catching up with the fundamentals without the stress'a having grades for it. Sign language -- intro painting sound okay? -- there's a /whole/ lotta English offerings so you can look through somethin' that sounds fun to you. Maybe an intro computer class t'round it out. Teach you the basics'a navigatin' one'a those machines. I didn't never own a computer 'fore I came t'this school, neither. Was a lot t'learn, I still ain't great at it," he admits with a touch of sheepishness. Dorian tilts his head curiously, and nods, looking at his hands, at the visible but thin scars on each fingers, then back at Jax's missing pinkie, "I used to have webbing on my fingers when I was little. 'Nother mutant damaged the, they couldn't fix it, so they just took it." He smiles brightly at the mention of the lake being cold, and nods, his ears perked forward, "Oh! I don't mind the cold at all. Frozen over is kinda bad, because then it's kinda hard to get in, but I'm from Maine. The lake and river useta get really really cold in the fall, but I could totally go swimming in it. I kinda have insulation, I guess? And could help catch fish and stuff when I was little since my family din't really have much." He stumbles on this statement, realizing what he'd just babbled out, blinking repeatedly for a moment, "God... I haven't thought of that in forever." Focusing his attention back onto the task at hand, Dorian, looks over the books, "That sounds good, I think. Intro painting sounds fun, yes. And... I guess I kinda gotta learn computers, too, since that seems to be kinda what everything is, now. I... I think there was maybe one computer in the whole town where I grew up. Least that's how it seemed at the time." He ruffles his hair, staring at the courses, "And yeah, tutoring is good. I was kinda bad at school when I was little. Got kicked out for bein' distractin. Don't think that's an issue so much now." "Pretty near essential, knowin' your way around 'least the basics of a computer, these days. And definitely essential here, lots of the coursework an' assignments and things in some'a the classes get posted on the online portal so 'least knowin' your way around email an' a web browser is necessary just so's you don't miss nothin' from your teachers." Jackson opens Dorian's folder, absently jotting down a few notes once they have settled on some of the classes. "S'a lot of fish for the catchin', out there. Most'a the time we do just fine on food but right about now every little bit extra helps. I'll see if the Professor can't scan the lake t'make sure it's safe, I'll let y'know tomorrow if it's good to go in or not." His fingers flex again, falling to rest fingertips on the opposite arm, absently tracing against the ink half-visible beneath the fishnet shirt. "S'pretty horrifyin', things people do to each other. M'--" Instead of saying it out loud, he rubs his fist over his heart, probably a quite familiar gesture around the school by now with their list of banned words. "-- 'bout your hands. Shouldn't hafta be self-conscious 'bout it, though. Scars is -- like tattoos. They tell your story." "Yeah. I guess so. I'll have to get used to it. I barely know how to turn those things on, let alone actually check stuff on them. Can, um, can I get help with it, if I need to get assignments and stuff? It's... kinda daunting," Dorian sighs, frowning. "And yeah. I wanna help out, if I can. I mean. All of you have done so much to help me out, I mean, I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you and everyone getting us outta the labs. It's, I mean, least I could do? Helping get fish. I can do that. And it'd be nice to swim again," Dorian perks up, grinning. Dorian nods, and rests his hands on the table, "I know. I'm getting better with it, really. It's just... kinda a sore spot I guess. The signing helps. Long story. Lotsa scars. Rather have tattoos - they're prettier." He watches Jax's hands tracing over the ink, a little bit of a grin. "M'sure there's plenty'a people who could help y'in a pinch. But you'll pick it up." Jax waves his pencil towards the course book. "Any'a those English classes look appealing?" The mention of tattoos being prettier puts a bright smile on his face. "I give tattoos. You decide you want one for real, figure out somethin' that means a lot to you, I can hook you up." He rests his hands down at the edge of the table, absently starting to swing himself back and forth again. "S'/all/ kinda daunting, I'm sure. But s'a lot of folks here who can help y'navigate it, aright?" Dorian nods, "Um, maybe just kinda the basics of it all? Like, uh, um, remedial? I like reading and all, but, uh, I'm kinda rural. My writing ain't all that great, really." He grimaces, obviously embarassed by the admission, "I think the last English I remember actually taking was second grade vocabulary. I got kicked out 'cause I disrupted the test for the class." He tilts his head slightly, chewing on his lower lip at the offer of a tattoo, "I... I'm still kinda a bit jumpy 'bout needles. I think tattoos still involve alotta needles. Don' think I'm ready for that. Technically old enough or not." He ruffles his hair, hand catching on the tag still notched at his ear, apparently unwilling to remove the reminder. "I haven't gotten to talk to a lotta people, really. The ones I've met have been nice, but, um, I kinda did a lotta hiding, and a lotta not talking. Daunting doesn't quite start to cover it. But... I just wanna get a chance to prove I can do this. This whole school thing, and then this whole 'grown up' thing I'm apparently supposed to be able to do, too," Dorian seems resolute, and nods, a sheepish grin on his lips. Jackson exhales a quiet laugh, and shakes his head slightly. "Oh, man. You figure out this bein' a grown-up thing, you let me know, aright?" He writes down one more course in Dorian's list, closing the folder again. "Awesome. You're all set for classes, then. I'll have Bastian come find you at breakfast so he can make sure /you/ get your schedule aright an' know where to go, 'kay? An' you should get a regular advisor assigned to you this week so -- there'll be a teacher t'help you figure alla this out, too." "Oh good," Dorian sighs, resting his head in his hand, "I thought it was just me." He glances curiously at the other note added to his file, but not asking about it. "Thank you. For all of this. Again. I.... well, I'll try and not screw it up. So, um, thanks," Dorian grins slightly, nodding, "Was there anything else? It still feels all sortsa surreal right now, but I'm... I'm actually gonna start classes? In the middle of all this. Thank you." "Nope. That's about it. You'll be all set, now." Jax's nose crinkles up. "Does feel surreal. But yeah. Classes are really startin' back up. An' I think we're gonna beat this thing. /Actually/ give you a taste'a normal life, one'a these days." He sets Dorian's folder aside, giving the boy a warm smile as he pulls his own sketchbook close again, picking his pencil back up. "An' I know you ain't been assigned an actual advisor yet but in the meantime, you need anything, you can come talk t'me, 'kay? S'a lot t'take in an' don't nobody expect you to have the hang of it all at once." Dorian stands up, careful to not knock over the stoll he had been perching on. "So... I'm set. I... wow. Thank you, um, Jax? Um, Mr. Jax? I... don't know what to call you now that you're technically my teacher," he ruffles his hair, grimacing slightly. "Normal'd be nice. But, yeah," Dorian grins, offering a wave, "Thank you, again, really. It's... yeah. I'm gonna go now. I'll, um, I guess see you in class, then?" There's a hopeful note to his voice, in his lopsided smile, as he heads for the door. "Jax is still fine," Jackson assures Dorian cheerfully. "I'll see y'in class tomorrow." His fingers curl in a wave, his smile following Dorian out before he turns his attention back to his sketchbook, waiting for his next student to return.