ArchivedLogs:Different

Different
Dramatis Personae Anole, Nick, Shane	2015-10-08 "If it helps, you'll have fucking /plush/-ass facilities while you're surrounded by dickbags."
Location <XS> School Grounds
Xavier's School is situated on grounds as luxurious as the mansion itself. The tree-lined drive brings you up to the lush green sweep of front lawn and the wide front porch with its bench swing, often frequented by students studying in pleasant weather. The large oak tree in the front yard is home to a tire swing, installed long ago beneath the sturdy old treehouse. The lawn rolls out all the way down to the thin rocky pier at the edge of the glittering lake. The water stretches huge and wide off into the distance, the boathouse a small blip at its shore. Along its bank, forest stretches dense and shady to one side; to the other cliffs start to rise, high and rocky, providing trails for hiking or climbing, for the adventurous. It's been a beautiful day with the promise of a beautiful evening to come. The sun has not yet set, but the sky is already fading to a soothing lavender, dotted with clouds painted brilliant shades of pink, orange, and red by the slanting light. A faint breeze comes off of the lake and rustles the fiery foliage that decorates every corner of the grounds. Where the loop of the driveway swings nearest to the mansion, a silver Toyota Matrix sits idling. A tall man with scruffy auburn hair and a scattering of freckles across his cheeks stands with one arm braced on the open driver's door. Beside him, a small southeast asian woman is speaking in quiet rapid-fire Vietnamese while fussing at the clothing of a brown-furred, wolfish-looking person dressed in a short-sleeve hunter green button-up and khaki cargo pants. "{Yes, Ma, I will,}" the wolf-boy replies; there is a low, growly note to his voice, but his body language does not suggest impatience. "{But I am /not/ mailing you my clothes, I can mend them myself if they get torn.}" "{If!}" The mother stops in the middle of brushing off his shoulders to shoot an incredulous look at the man standing in the driver's door. "Talk to your son, he is being ridiculous." "Your clothes are going to get destroyed, Nicky," says the father, his voice level and fatalistic. "{How often are they even mendable?}" *His* Vietnamese has a heavy American accent, but is not incomprehensible. "Just...don't worry about it, neither of you. We can send money for more clothes if need be. But we really ought to get on the road..." "Okay, okay..." The mother claps her hands down on her furry son's arms. "{Take care of yourself.} Love you, Nicky." She rises up onto the tips of her toes and plants a kiss on the tip of his wet black nose. "See ya, Cub." The father pushes off from the vehicle and wraps the boy in a powerful hug. "Remember we're just a phone call away." The boy steps back onto the curb and watches his parents drive away, staring down the drive even after the tail lights have vanished amongst the shadowy trees. Then he looks up at the sky and inhales, long and audible. His pointed ears swivel left and right. And he sighs. Some time in the middle of this the door to the mansion swings open. A very tiny blue figure steps out onto the porch, holding a thermos cupped in webbed hands. Shane is dressed in black corduroys, a tweed herringbone vest over crisp white dress shirt, blue and yellow tie tied with a neat trinity knot, polished saddle shoes that click against the steps as he steps down. "{They'd probably fuss even /more/ if they knew how rough this place actually /was/ on clothes.}" There's an amused lilt to his quiet Vietnamese. "{Long trip?}" Nick's posture does not tense in such a way as would suggest that Shane's *presence* startles him, but when he turns around his bright amber eyes are wide and his blunt, canine muzzle slightly open. Then it opens a little wider, and he looks like he might be smiling, though with lips so inhuman it's hard to say. "{They'd fuss even if this were a magical clothes *sanctuary*.} Empty-nesting, you know." His voice remains growly. "Boston. {The whole day they were speculating about what the school was going to be like. Think they were more excited than I was.}" His ears flatten back just a touch, but then perk back up. "My name's Nick. I just moved in." "Boston? Oh!" Shane's black eyes open a little wider. "{Do you like it there? Are people shitty there? My sibling just moved up there I gotta admit /I've/ been fussing.}" He rolls a shoulder in a little bit of a shrug, rocking forward onto his toes to offer a clawed hand forward. "Shane. I -- didn't just move in. Just moved /out/, really. Just graduated last term. {What /do/ they think the school's going to be like?}" His brows lift at this, curious. "{I hated it.}" Nick's lips draw back slightly, *actually* growling now, though the sound fades quickly. "{Just, people were so fake about their progressiveness or whatever.} But I mean, I was in high school, that probably contributed a lot to the shittiness. Your sibling in college there?" His large, pink tongue darts out to lick his nose. "{Ma thought I'd be instantly up to my ears in friends and mentors who understand my struggles. Ba thought I would finally have a place where I can concentrate on my studies and become a brilliant...whatever I want to become I guess.}" He looks up at the mansion, its upper levels bathed in the light of the setting sun, then back to Shane. He stretches out his own hand, hairless on the palms and clawed. "{You come back to visit friends?} "Wow." Blink-blink, first one clear set of inner eyelids and then the opaque outer ones. There's a hitch of pause in Shane's movement before he remembers to /shake/ Nick's hand. "{That sounds. Alarmingly familiar.}" His sharp teeth bare in a crooked smile. "I'm pretty sure high school is shitty the world over. And yeah, she's gone up to MIT. {/She's/ the /good/ one.}" Though from both tone and grin he sounds more proud than resentful. "{I come back...}" Another hesitation. Shane's claws tap against the side of the thermos. "I get extra training. And I help out. Like with -- advising -- and helping new kids transition in." He shrugs. "{... what do you want to become?}" There's not a car that brings Anole down the drive from the road. He's trudging on foot, not carrying much by way of luggage save the tatty old backpack on his back. Trudging kind of slowly. He stops a small distance away, shoulders hunching up further in his oversized NYU sweatshirt when he sees Shane out by the porch. His huge clawed hand curls tightly around the strap of his backpack, head bowing before he continues on towards the front. "Yeah, it's not like I thought Boston was uniquely endowed with assholes. Just a special brand: Massholes." Nick's black lips draw back into a decidedly wolfish grin, exposing a plethora of teeth from sharp incisors all the way back to still-somewhat-sharp molars. "Wow, MIT? {She's been *busy* I bet. You grew up around here?}" One of his ears flips back, then twitches more finely to track Anole's progress, until he has made it far enough up the drive for Nick to see without turning around altogether. But his eyes shoot back to Shane quickly. "{I'm not really sure yet.}" "She's a hella overachiever. {We -- didn't really grow up around here, exactly.}" Shrug. "You guys have your own /name/ for your kind of assholes? That's, uh," Shane snorts, gills fluttering momentarily, "something special. Is that a source of /pride/ or..." He trails off, nose twitching and his gaze shifting down the drive. The fluttering of his gills grows faster. He stays quiet, watching Anole's slow approach with a gradual lift of brows. "... I could've given you a ride." Anole stops a few feet from the others, fingers still wringing at the strap of his bag. The smells he carries with him are not particularly pleasant, lingering sewage odor clinging to his backpack and shoes; his clothes have at least had a nominal attempt at washing though without much place to dry them properly they smell kind of mildewy. "I took the train." His head is still bowed, though his eyes flick up to peek at Nick. Briefly. Then back down. "Who's this?" "Some Bostonians *seem* to take pride in it, but I don't really get it, I'm not from Boston either." Nick's shoulders hitch in a small shrug, and his tail wags for a moment before going still again. His nose twitches as Anole approaches, but the smells do not seem to bother him particularly. He tilts his head at the newcomer. "I'm Nick, I just transferred here." Amber eyes dart from blue shark to green lizard. "You're...not so new, then?" "S'not new. Pa told me you might be coming back," Shane adds to Anole, "but I didn't know if I should believe it." His tone is level. Kind of cautious. "You need anything, you just tap me, yeah?" He glances back to Nick. Shrugs. "Not-a-Masshole, evidently. So if not Boston where /are/ you from?" Anole scuffs a toe against the ground, nodding at Shane's words. "He came to talk to me. He and Marrow made it sound like..." His brow furrows deeply. He grinds the toe of his sneaker harder into the dirt. "I don't know. Maybe it's stupid? It's probably stupid. Coming back. I don't -- I mean. I know it's probably been shaken up with the -- announcement and all but. But. Are things -- are people -- is it /different/?" "Kind of all over? Technically Cleveland, I guess, but I barely even remember it." Nick's mouth pulls to one side, the ear on the same side flatting a little, as he studies Anole. "I don't know a whole lot about this school, but...different from what?" Shane's weight shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His claws tap against the side of his thermos, and he lifts it finally to take a sip. Then offer it out towards Anole. His gills flutter rapidly again, eyes darting between the younger two teens. Finally, gruff: "No." His nostrils flare, one breath huffed out sharply. "It's not any different. Same self-righteous motherfuckers feeding you shit and telling you it's for your own damn good. In some ways they're kind of worse now. Like this whole going-public thing bought them enough /good ally/ points to take a few years off." His eyes roll. "Sorry. Wish I could tell you everyone'd had an epiphany. But they're the same goddamn assholes as ever." The crooked smile he gives Nick is -- only slightly apologetic. "If it helps, you'll have fucking /plush/-ass facilities while you're surrounded by dickbags." Anole takes the thermos, head dipping in one slow nod. He doesn't look much surprised by Shane's answer. There's a faintly heavier sag to his shoulders, but he just makes a small grunt of acknowledgment and sips at the coffee. "Different from -- how they were before, I guess," he explains awkwardly to Nick. "Before I -- dropped out." "Oh." Both of Nicks' ears flatten back now. "Well. I can't say I'm all that surprised. My parents kept saying I was being too pessmistic, but I figure that way I won't be disappointed, right?" He does smile again, though. "Didn't work. I'm still disappointed. But at least I know how to deal with assholes." He casts his gaze out beyond the lake, the rustling of the distant leaves conveying the quiet immensity of the forest. "I don't give a shit about facilities, but...the woods look nice." Turning back to Anole, "You still going to give it another try?" "Don't get me wrong," Shane says with a shrug, "it's not all bad, it's just." For a moment there's a low growl rumbling underneath his words. "Just a lot of sanctimonious pricks who think that because we all share an X-gene, we all share an /experience/. And that if we just tried harder to be more goddamn /human/ and and /assimilate/ better and /fit in/ --" The growl rumbles louder, before he cuts off with a small click of teeth. "Fff. If you can choke your way past the assimilationist crap, though, the education's good. And there's good /people/. You just gotta pick though a crapton of chaff to find the wheat." His teeth bare in a bright grin. "And the woods are /fantastic/. Peaceful. Good hunting. And you can get out there and run for ever." "Stop being such animals." The small chuckle in /Anole's/ voice is -- veeeery much not actually amused. His claw flexes, then drops to his side. "I don't suppose there's anywhere else I /could/ graduate from, right now." So maybe that's a yes. "Besides. The woods are nice." "Human," Nick echoes the word as if he has never heard it before, trying it on for size. "Riiiight." His eyes skip between the other two teens. "Well, I'm still glad to meet you both. I haven't known a lot of people like...us. And thanks for the heads-up, I guess. Can't say I'm particularly enthusiastic about orientation tomorrow." He glances at the woods again. "Maybe I'll check out the grounds instead." "/Hfff/." Shane exhales again, sharper, this time. His eyes squeeze shut. Then open again. "There are a lot of people like us, at least. It's just -- the ones who /aren't/ like us are the ones in charge. So kind of like the rest of the world that way." This time he does sound amused. "There's a hellofa lot of grounds to check out when it gets to be too much. And if you ever need someone to talk to --" He shrugs. Then waves back towards the door. "C'mon. Y'all had dinner? Best get leftovers while there still /are/ some."