ArchivedLogs:Freedom and Happiness

Freedom and Happiness
Dramatis Personae Jim, Rasa, Rogue	2013-01-17 Lo, a Stranger Approaches. Be Ye Friend or Foe?
Location <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. The Conservatory is surprisingly warm on yet another drab winter day. The temperatures outside are definitely above freezing, which likely contributes, but the warmth in this room practically warms the soul. A thin, medium height teenager is sitting on one of the low, stone walls that keeps the green from encrouching too much on the foot paths. Ze is covered from head to toe, in loose fitting jeans, white bulky sneakers, and a white hooded sweatshirt which is zipped all of the way up to hir throat. The hood is up, covering dark hair that pools and spills out of the depths of the cowl and sweeps over hir forehead. A transparent and embroidered cloth covers hir mouth and nose, leaving very little completely unobscured flesh. Black gloves cover hir hands. Ze is very much entranced by staring up at the trees, but does glance from time to time toward the door to see if anyone new is coming in. Rogue is humming to herself, bright green cords dangling from her ears. A zip up crochet jacket on over a lace camisole, auburn hair braided back, leaving white to frame her face. Gloves are tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, and in her hands are some gardening tools. Tucked away here and there, Rogue has convinced the groundskeeper to let her have some plants to tend all on her own, time to have her gloves off and some tactile input not muted by gloves. She moves towards her intended spot, pausing at the sight of another body, one that covers up even more. "Hey." She offers as she tugs earbuds free. "Hope Ah'm not intruding." New is one way to describe him. Between tatty jacket and salt and pepper scruffiness, Jim might be mistaken for a vagrant that has stumbled onto the grounds were he not also wearing an inner jacket of roughened-darker flesh coarsening the sides of his neck and hands. It could also just be a bad rash. The offshoot of leafiness amongst his hair, less rashy. He moves into the entrance of the conservatory at a pace somewhere between an amble and a skulk, a cigarette clamped in the side of his mouth and his hands crammed in his pockets. He gets three feet in before he decides this is probably a non-smoking zone and ejects his erstwhile occupation out the door behind him absently. The two young people are noted - /squinted/ at - as he meanders the conservatory's parameter, eyes scanning then up to the ceiling, then down to the chairs arranged in the center of the garden. This is prime poking-around. Lurk. Rasa blanches when spoken to, the blush that follows fills hir cheeks more like paint swirling and diluting in milk rather than a more typical flush. Ze winces a smile and shakes hir head. "Ah,no. Not intruding. I'd have to be in a private place to... ah, have a problem with people walking in." Eyes crinkle in the corners as ze attempts another smile, a motion ze seems entirely unaccustomed to. "Gardening?" The hints of smoke on the air draws hir attention toward the general direction of the door, but ze fails to spy the skulky source. Rogue's presence is quite distracting, as she is speaking to hir, after all. Gloved hands twist and interlace themselves nervously. "Well, Ah've had daydreams here interuppted. Didn't wanna be one of those pestering people that ruins a good daydream." Rogue says with that drawl of hers, a smile flashing as she settles in before her patch of plants. "Yeah. Little hobby of mine. Lets me take off the gloves." It's a confession, a hint of blush. She scents smoke, there's a spark in her eyes that wasn't there before, a light inside her that almost makes the belle glow. But when she doesn't see the face she's expecting, it goes out. "Hi." She offers out to the gentleman there. Jim grimaces vague apology when Rasa glances his way, holding up a palm that is either a wave or an assurance that he's unarmed and /really/ not sure if he's supposed to be here. "Hey," scratchy baritone comes in an exhale, indicative roll of eyes includes their surroundings, "Nice place you all uh, got here." As though they get /credit/ for it. There's a non-nonsense curiosity that notes Rasa's blush - what limited portion there is to see - and scans Rogue from white-framed face to toes, "This isn't trespassing, is it?" This thing he's apparently doing anyway, hands tucked back into pockets. Subtly, the path he's walked through the Conservatory is imbued with grass grown a hair more vibrant and tall; a significant contrast against the less-than-vibrant default-grimace the man wears. "And here I thought people wore gloves to garden. They do make specific ones for guarding against..." Rasa gives up when Rogue looks away, hir words trailing into silence as ze follows her gaze. Lips press together and whisps of black twist on hir cheeks as ze returns Jim's scrutiny. "Tresspassing? Are you not supposed to be here?" Rasa asks, wariness in hir tone and the wideness of hir eyes. Ze slowly moves to hir feet. "You should know that a powerful telepath runs this place and will likely be siccing some pretty vicious guards after you if you were unwelcome." "Ah'm sure most do. But Ah'm not worried about wrecking a manicure, an' Ah have a good nail brush." Rogue manages to pull her mind back to the here and now. "Ah wear gloves all the time, if Ah'm out of my room. Ah like feeling things without them." She explains, her voice almost mechanical about it. She shakes her head a bit. "No, Ah'm pretty sure he's allowed to be here." The belle says to reassure Rasa, "He wouldn't have gotten this far, if he wasn't." There's a smile cast Jim's way, a waggle of fingers not yet dirty. "Besides, if ya feel like confessing to being a sneak or a spy, Ah might be one of the guards." She doesn't look terribly threatening, though. "What. Seriously. A spy?" Jim looks between the two youths while engaging in a past time that would have to be called 'mouth-breathing'. It looks somewhat like he's trying to clear a scrap of food out of his back teeth. He looks over his shoulder, glancing around the peaceful environs, "I mean. I was meaning /here/, here. Like, in this place." He jerks his chin at one of the glass walls, "I've got a guest quarter." He offers this information with an evident presumption this -- /probably/ means he's allowed to be here. "Jim Morgan." Maybe names will help. As the topic has been up for discussion, he finds himself staring with great ponderance at Rogue's hands, and their lack-of-glove status. "You're in a refuge and a school, and you're not a student. We're... A bunch of us have had a pretty crappy go at things. It's kind of understandable and natural to be paranoid." Rasa explains, hands tucking behind hir back, shifting hir weight from foot to foot. "Rasa," ze offers, but does not offer a hand. "Are you a teacher? Or are you the person I've heard about, the one ... recuperating?" Rogue laughs. "Ah'm sure someone has been sent to try and spy at /some/ point. But like was said, telepaths and all here. Ah wouldn't want to try it, myself." There's a glance towards the direction of his chin jerk. "Ah hope your quarters are nice. Never seen them, myself. Ah'm Rogue." She notices the stare at her bare hands. "They look normal, don't they? Not at all dangerous. Just Ah'm the original look an' don't touch girl. My hands would kill you." But there's a smile as she says it, even if it's sad. "Ah'm gonna guess you're the one...recovering." "Something like that," Jim shrugs, casual enough falls into a wry, lazy grin that, while still a hair self-aware, is also growing entertained, if not amused, "Pshh, who hasn't had a crappy go at things, kid. Man, I thought I had it bad," this is said /bluntly/ at Rogue's explanation of her hands, and still grinning he extends hand - all gnarled tree-bark knuckles - partway to make with an air-fist-bump. No touchies, then! "All this shi-stuff's pretty fucking greek to me. Never been to a place like this. Spent most of my time /not/, uh..." He rolls a shoulder, glancing around pointedly. "You're part tree?" Now Rasa is fascinated. Delight raises hir voice a half octave and she moves closer. "Sorry. I ... I shouldn't be so." Hir expression darkens, literally, hir flesh settling upon a dark inky bronze. "I just spent a lot of time with plants growing up. I like them." Ze checks herself again, hir posture stiffening. "You are not just a plant though." Ze glances to Rogue out of the corner of hir eyes, white lettering scrawing down the side of hir face, from temple to cheek to neck and lower, half hidden in the shadows of hir hood and hair. 'Do -- ove --re ar--' are the only clearly characters. "Ah've heard it before." The southern belle doesn't say anything else right away, hands moving to start messing about in the dirt, carefully aerating the soil. "Ah love that you censor shit, then say fucking." Rogue can be blunt, but she's also amused. "Spent most of your time not looking like you were in makeup for the stage rendition of Wizard of Oz?" She teases, a glance at him, then at Rasa. She notices the letters, but doesn't comment or try to puzzle it out. "Oh, fuck, I did didn't I." Pause. "/Shit/." Pause. "SHIT." Watch Jim use up the last of his propriety, and then give up, "Okay, fuck this, I got freakin' kids laughing at me." He is saying this to an invisible entity standing to his left. Ala 'get a load of this shit'. "I mean. I'm not /part/ tree. Just, y'know, tree...y. You all can /have/ the plants, I don't know a daisy from my asshole." He lazily waves of Rasa's apology, "Eh, shit's fucked up. Rasa. Rogue. Wizard of Oz, that's cute, red. Yeah, I guess so. I can keep it in, mostly, but it's a pain in the ass. And I'm not supposed to be straining myself. Got doctors orders and everything." Excessive shrug conveys 'wtf, doctors'. Want to play a game of Blunt Hot Potato? Jim tosses to Rasa, "So what's your thing." Rasa's eyebrows knit together, appearing from underneath hir fringe as they encroach upon hir eyes. Hir head tilts to one side as Jim waxes poetic about the Wizard of Oz, eyes blinking rapidly as ze takes in the information. When the 'potato' is tossed in hir direction, ze freezes. "They say somethings, but I don't know what to think yet. I'm really just.. kind of mixed up and I'm waiting to see what happens when everything settles down." Hir explanation is a little hollow, but hir face warms as ze speaks, settling on a little more normal hue, but retaining a metallic sheen. Rogue loses it for a moment, shoulders shaking as she keeps her head averted. There's something about him that just makes Rogue want to like him, but like hell she's going to analyze it. The laughter stops with a blade sharp glare. "My hair isn't /red/. It's auburn." She almost sticks her tongue out, but that's not befitting a young lady and RA of eighteen. She looks at Jim while Rasa explains. "Some powers are...complicated." "Guesss that's what a place like this is for," Jim eases into admitting the merit as though reluctant, watching the grass around his feet - which are bare, even in the chill months. Their rawhide-rough texture doesn't seem to mind, sinking into the ground the longer he stands still. "Haven't talked to a guy," or gal, but excuse his /generalization/, he's old fashioned, "here yet that hasn't been happy to have found it." "Well, one would have to define 'happy' in order to accurately..." Rasa begins, but falls silent, glancing toward Rogue as she displays extreme emotions in rapid succession. Ze wets hir lips and steps back again. "I am freer here." Ze shrugs and reaches up and peels off a single glove, head bowing. The hand itself is gold (for now), but as ze flattens it out, dark ink seems to well up from the fingernail beds, lines curving and arching over hir skin as it makes a web across the back of hir hand. Ze turns the limb over as all of the black gathers in the palm of hir hand to spell out the words 'hi there' in a vine like font. Well, she was never really angry, just...she's not a redhead. Honest. Rogue has issues, okay? "My..entrance here was kinda messed up, but.." The belle shrugs, a half smile forming. "Like Rasa said. Freedom. No one here is gonna toss me out because some twist of genetics gave me dangerous skin, ya know?" "Guess you guys would know more than me," Jim admits easily enough, shrugging with a semi-uneasiness that doesn't seem in regards to either of his present company. He watches words slide over flesh with what starts as mere bafflement, and gradually eases into thoughtfulness, "That's some kinda art you got, kid, whatever it is." Even if words are spoken from a man seeming particularly artless. Maybe this just makes it more sincere. "Art?" Rasa repeats the word blankly, as if hearing it for the first time. Ze pauses and hir hand relaxes, the words dissipating into nothingness. "Huh." Ze keeps hir bunched up other glove in hir hand and nods quietly. "Thank you." Hir metallic sheen fades away as well. "Welcome to Xavier's." Ze gives a small smile with hir greeting. "If there's anything you want or need to know, or you need someone to run off into town for you, Ah'm your girl." There's a hint of a smile. "Ah may not know everything yet, but know more than most of the students are allowed." "Thanks," Jim jerks a chin, "Dunno, I think I'm alright so far. Keep that in mind. I'm gonna," he jerks a chin over his shoulder. This MIGHT mean he's going to head out, though it could also mean 'I'm going to go hitch hiking'. "See ya around, kids. Keep out of trouble. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." By the time he says this, he's heading for the door, venturing back out into the outside world. You can /smoke/ out there.