ArchivedLogs:First Impressions
| First Impressions | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-04-15 X-Kids make the best ones. |
| Location
<XS> Forest | |
Quiet and shady, the trees rise all around here high and thick. In stillness, woodland creatures make appearances, though sudden noises scare them back into the cover. Dappled sunlight filters down between the thick foliage, and the ground underfoot is heavily overgrown, though here and there paths have been worn, by deer or years of students wandering familiar trails. "She says when he found out she was a mutant, the reverend tried to do an /exorcism/ on her," Peter explains to Ivan, eyebrows furrowed angrily. SO MUCH FOR SECRETS. "That got me /so/ mad, oh my /god/ Ivan what the hell she does not have the /demons/, I kind of wanted to find this person and punch them." Peter natters away at Ivan as he works - a large, flat tree trunk near the center of the wooded grotto - a soldering kit, along with a chip kit, set out on top of it - with what looks like... a microchip, a valve, a soldering kit, a few brass containers... There's an unusual looking 'nozzle' pointed at one of the trees on top of the stump; there are greyish 'splat' marks covering it, as if it's been recently hit by... uh, what the hell /is/ that stuff? It looks like leftover coccooning. "Anyway she's not the ghost. I haven't found the ghost yet. I think maybe the people who said there /was/ a ghost were just being dumb." Peter explains this as he brings the tip of his pen down on one of the chip's circuits; there's a soft 'bzzzt' followed by THWP followed by *SPLAT*. Peter looks immensely cheered by this turn of events. "OH. It /works/!" 'bzzzt' THWPTHWPTHWPTHWPTHWPTHWPTHWPTHWP--"OHGOD." Peterfumble, ending with Peter's hands darting down to cut the power. "OFF OFF OFF--" When it comes to teleportation, it seems at least that the powers of one who runs and hides, its fairly quiet in the scheme of things. There was no bamf, no pop, just the spin adjustment of entanglement interposing what had been one place with the volume of what had been in the other place. Yet poor Faelan's sudden arrival in between the short circuiting web shooter and the tree was just another matter entirely, as his arrival was immediately met with THWPing into his body and a small eek as he fell over. "Gah what the hell, I bwah, gah!," was what came out in a stream of surprise from the fellow as he hit the ground. Ivan has been standing patiently, back against a tree and hands in his pockets. His expression shows very little in the way involvement when it comes to the ongoing conversation apart from an occasional twitch of his eyebrows or mouth. He's watching Peter closely, though, and his expression makes way for slight panic when that THWPing starts. He pulls away from the tree to hop closer to the cascading of webspewing. Not that he knows what to do when he GETS there, though STARING IT DOWN seems not to work very well so far. In a tone that is equal parts worried and confused, he offers helpfully, "Peter I think that is too much." Just then, Faelan appears. Ivan's muscles tense while he /staggers/ back in surprise, colour draining from his face as-- a few dozen moths erupt from his coat pockets and flutter in any which way. For some reason. Peter PULLS THE PLUG. Violently. Something snaps off the nozzle; plastic breaks. The webshooter instantly shuts down with a dull 'brrrzzumble...*', but in that time, FAELAN has appeared in a flash. Peter's eyes widen - and in an instant, the super-fast teen is besides Ivan, /shaking/ him as the moths emerge from his coat pockets. "IVAN," Peter says, eyes as big as apples, staring at Faelan. "IVAN IVAN IVAN. I THINK I ACCIDENTALLY CREATED LIFE." Then, Peter pauses, eyebrows knitting together. "...wait I know this dude nevermind." The 'webshooter' that nailed Faelan would stick to him in a big blob with a thread leading from his chest to the nozzle; the end of the cord is not connected to anything, so he can drag it around. It's probably a little confusing, though. It doesn't hit hard - more like getting sprayed with a watergun. But it absolutely /refuses/ to come off. Pouting slightly, Faelan was tugging the strand stuck on him with concern, not sure if he'd have to replace his new grey sweatshirt already or not. "What is this stuff? Did I end up in the Danger Room?" Concern on his face was moving more to panic, then slowed back to concern as he wasn't being attacked anymore. "Um, Peter right? We are on school grounds aren't we?" He was tugging pretty hard at the strand, though with how scrawny he looked that wasn't saying much. Shake shake. Ivan is a person easily shook, like a bobble-head version of himself. For a moment he actually seems to BELIEVE Peter has created life. What follows may or may not be a look of disappointment. Oh. Right. It's just another student. Not NEW LIFE AT ALL. Regardless, Faelan gets a curious, intent /stare/ and a nod. The moths flit back and forth but never stray further than an arm's length, nervously circling. Peter stops shaking Ivan. Proceeds to /peer/ at Faelan. Peer, peer, peer. But then: "Oh! Right - Faelan! You teleport!" Peter's hands clap together, as if this was all well and good; EVERYTHING makes sense now. "No, no, we're out in the - uh here," Peter interrupts himself, darting over to the tree trunk to snatch up a spritzer bottle and approach Faelan - making a *spritz* *spritz* at his chest, misting it with vinegar. "- here this will dissolve it, it'll just evaporate. You're in the woods we were testing my... uh we were testing some stuff." SNEAKY-PETER-EYES. "Ivan this is Faelan, he teleports. Faelan this is Ivan, he talks to bugs." INTRODUCTIONS. As the vinegar mist hit him, Faelan sneezed out some of the caustic scent and his nose wrinkled at it. "Well, at least people will just think I spilled something from the kitchen on me." Not feeling like waiting for it to dissolve all the way, he wrapped his hand around the strand and sent it Away, to god knows where. "Oh Ivan who know's Kai? Or different Ivan?" Brushing forest gunk off of him from his fall, he glanced over at the machine again, and stepping out of the line of fire, just in case. Ivan seems reluctant to move very much, standing perfectly still in his cloud of fluttery moths. But at the mention of Kai, they seem to calm. One by one, they land on his shoulders and in his hair. He himself relaxes as well, eyes resting in turn between Peter and Faelan. "I know Kai." Unless it is a different Kai. He seems worried for a moment, but a particularly tardy moth landing on his quickly closing /eyelid/ turns that expression to surprise. Oh hello moth. "Ivan you have a moth on your eye," Peter says, absently, stepping back as Faelan snatches the webbing and it /vanishes/. "Oh man you can send things /away/? That is actually pretty cool - oh can you send entire /people/ away? Wait I think you might have mentioned that when we talked - and yeah I know Kai too he is actually kind of a dragon." Peter backs toward the 'machine', eyeing the damage his POWER-YANK did and producing a little self-conscious scowl. "Ugh," he mumbles, but he's soon fiddling with it. Fiddle, fiddle. "Um sorry about /shooting/ you with that, but you kinda just /appeared/ in the path--" "Things and people," Faelan murmered quietly, recalling back to the previous conversation, then he /blinked/. "He's a What?," he replied incredulously, tilting his head at Peter. "Oh, well, he had said he was dangerous I guess." Shaking his head, what he had been about to ask sorta vanished, and with Peter's apology, he shook his head. "Its my fault, at least it was just goo this time, and not a car or a linebacker or anything." "Can you send us away?" Ivan asks, flatly, one eye still closed. It's almost more of a suggestion than a question. The moth bumbles its way down his face, over a cheek. Ivan's attention is then aimed downward at his pockets, as the moths work their way down in zigzags, back into the darkness. "Dragon," Peter says, and then he frowns. "Wait - am I allowed to tell people that? I think I'm allowed to tell people that," he says, looking to Ivan - as if for confirmation - then back to Faelan. "Sometimes he turns into a dragon. I mean, he hasn't been a dragon for a while, I don't think he does it anymore, but that's what he /used/ to do." Peter's got the pliers, now; he's picking at the bits of plastic he's pulled out. Yank, yank. TWIST. "Can you send people to a specific /place/? Like could you send us to our room. Or is it just, like, 'away'. Either way being able to send dudes away is a pretty handy power, I mean, if you're ever in /trouble/." "Really? They never ask me to send anyone away except for during the training exercises so that they have have recovery teams prepared." Faelan's face carried his emotions fairly easily, and right now they showed his apprehension. "I mean, I can if I try really, really, hard keep it somewhere on campus, or at least the city for the most part. But well, uh," he really was uncomfortable with it as he bit his lip as he continued "you really could end up anywhere. Like middle of the Atlantic anywhere." Looking to the chattering Peter, he looked embarassed at that, but nodded. "Its better if I go away myself. If it were someone really really dangerous that I sent away, and well they ended up in a hospital. The ethics classes are really good at making us feel guilty." Ivan seems mostly clueless when Peter looks to him for confirmation. He hadn't really considered it before! But his nose wrinkles at the answer Faelan gives him, but a brief and timid smile follows it. The moths are gone now, and his hands go back in those pockets as he sidles slightly closer to Peter. Safety! From-- awkward teenager? Yes. He seems to have no further questions. FOR NOW. And so Faelan continues to be stared at, somewhat blankly. /Ponderously/. Peter serves as a functional buffer between Faelan and Ivan; he is, after all, more than willing to make up for Ivan's silence with 2x chatter: "Ethics classes PSSSH I'll feel guilty when I'm /dead/," Peter announces with more than a bit of teenage bravado, but then: "Oh man have you ever teleported /into/ the Atlantic or like in the Mariana Trench? You can just teleport /again/ though right? Or is rapid teleportation something you can't do--" Peter's still fiddling with the device. Inspecting the damage with a discerning eye; scowling a bit, but then - back to focusedPeter. "Mmmf I think I should be able to fix this - Ivan - it was just, um, I think I just set it into a /loop/ or something but - but yeah I should be able to actually /measure/ what's left in them now, I mean not super-accurate, /but/--" This is all half-mumbled to Ivan. "Oh I only end up places that I fit, and that wont just instantly squish me. They said its some sort of subconscious safety mechanism." Faelan shook his head. "And I have ended up in large bodies of water before, but I try not to stick around them too long to find out which ones. I can do it a few times in a row, so finding solid ground is usually the priority." He wasn't used to people caring about his powers so much, but he didn't see the harm in answering. "What about you? Are you an inventor like Kisha? Do you not need to sleep either?" As Peter continues to work on his little invention, Ivan lowers himself down to his knees to /peer/ closely at whatever it is he is doing. Whether he actually knows what's going on at all is a mystery, but he seems to /want/ to figure it out. "Like a battery." He mumbles, through Peter-mumbles, choosing to listen to the overlapping conversation moreso than partake in it. "Yeah kinda like a battery originally I was gonna just use estimates based on how many times they're fired but that's not gonna be really accurate, then I thought /weight/ maybe but there's not enough room for weight plus that would only work when they're vertical, but now I realize I can use /current/ to measure the resistance, because when it's near-empty there'll just be brass and no chemical to resist and--" On, and on, and on. At the mention of 'Kisha' and 'inventor', Peter finally looks up to Faelan - blinking wide-eyed. "Huh? Oh - no, actually, huh I guess I /should/ ask Kisha about this, I mean it /is/ her thing isn't it, but she might still be angry at me for the blimp - uh no, my power is, uh I'm just really strong and really fast and I can cling to walls." BLUSH. Blinking at Peter, and concentrating to keep up with the rapid barrage, Faelan was just nodding until it was finally over and he had a chance to assemble the dialogue after it was finished. "Oh, I guess you're just a genius then. I kinda figured it was a power, but yeah." Faelan went over to look at the device like the others were. "Why not just measure the pressure? I mean, a gauge could do that, but a current through the thing will just heat it up. The physics class had some formula about resistance and current and heat and stuff." He was trying to be helpful at least, and being afraid of others gave him time to read a lot at least. Ivan shoots a glance at Peter at Faelan's questions, looking between the two as his face... changes very gradually to show curiosity again. Narrow-eyed and wondering. Perhaps it is plain curiosity, or perhaps it is some rumour about Faelan that helps him make the decision to stick out his arm in the direction of Faelan's face while the other teenager is talking. Whatever the reason is, it is probably good enough for what he does next- from the sleeve of his coat emerges a spider, crawling onto his hand. A tarantula, quite large, some of it a bright blue, and from what Hollywood teaches most people about spiders with their front limbs upward -- in an ATTACK position toward Faelan's face. "I have /no idea/ how to measure pressure, but maybe, I'd have to read up a bunch of stuff on that and ohGod I'm not a genius I mean I don't know if I'm a genius I just like /electronic/ stuff, and--" Peter looks up as Ivan sticks his arm out toward Faelan - eyes going wide as the tarantula emerges. "Ivan! What are you /doing/ Ivan bugs /scare/ people--" "GAH!" Faelan falls backwards flailing at the hand coming to his face with spider doom! As he fell though, Ivan could feel an oddness enfolding him, and then suddenly where the spider and Ivan were was just air. Air that smelled like take out and city, but there ya go. Of course Faelan wasn't paying any attention to that as his face was turned aside with his eyes closed and his body curled into fetal position to protect the important bits. "Ivan--" Peter blinks. And stares. And then -- gets wide-eyed. And then... Peter is fast. /Crazy/-fast. Just how fast Peter is gets highlighted an instant after Ivan's disappeared - when suddenly, Peter is on top of Faelan, a hand wrapped around the scruff of his collar - /yanking/ him up into the air. Like he was a kitten. Except Peter does not look like he is treating Faelan as if he were a kitten. "--WHERE?!" Eyes wide. Angry. But also scared. /SHAKING/ Faelan. SHAKE. SHAKE. SHAKE. "Lemmegolemmegolemmego," was panicstreaming from Faelan, and as Peter shook him the world got odd. Things around them were blipping away with each shake. The forest was suddenly brighter as what had been giving shade was no longer blocking light, and various other bits of scenery were just suddenly missing. Hey look, the rumors were true about what happened when the scared boy got panicing. Peter releases. Sucking in a hard, /deep/ breath. Forcing himself to remain calm - despite the fact that his hands are clenching and unclenching and he looks like he's about three seconds from /exploding/. "Faelan. Please. Tell. Me. Where. You. Sent. Ivan." Clenched teeth. "Or. Send. Me. There. Please." Images of Ivan in the middle of the Atlantic ocean swim up into his mind. A hint of panicfury hits his tone: "PLEASE." Sobbing Faelan lay collapsed on the ground where Peter had dropped him, limp like his muscles didn't want to work. "I don't know! I told him I didn't know!" came the sobyell from him as he just stared at the ground. "I told him, I told him I didn't know where." Digging his phone out from his pocket, it fell to the grass with fumbling fingers. "Call the instructors. Call him. Call dammit!" He didn't seem like he could do much more than that though. "Okay. Relax. Okay." Teeth still grit, Peter reaches into his pocket, fumbling for his phone, yanking it out. Immediately typing into it. "Relax. It's okay. Nobody's dead. It's okay." Type, type, type. Sending Ivan a text. "Faelan if we can figure out where he is can you send me there."
"Relax," Peter repeats. "It's okay." He's calming down a little, now. Teeth no longer grit. No longer looking like he is about to /punch/ something. "I'll call him figure out where he is /everything will be fine/." "Its not okay! You're both jerks!" Faelan still had tears streaming down his face as he finally managed to get to his feet. "I said what would happen, and...and," he turned at that and wobbling away he started walking, and slammed right into the invisble tree, and suddenly disapeared... leaving his phone in the middle of the forest floor. "Faelan, just relax - just breathe okay? Don't panic Faelan I need your help to --" WONK. Peter stops texting long enough to stare up at where Faelan /had/ been, and then: "...Faelan?" Followed by: "Oh you've /got/ to be kidding me." /NOW/ Peter calls a counselor.
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