ArchivedLogs:In Which Students Gripe About Class But Not About Each Other

In Which Students Gripe About Class But Not About Each Other
Dramatis Personae Anole, Paras, Taylor	2016-01-27 "Around here the world's /always/ ending."
Location <XS> Treehouse
Built by enterprising students of yesteryear, this treehouse has weathered generations of Xaviers' students coming up here to study -- or escape from studying. A cozy retreat, its wood planks are sturdy and well-sanded, fit snug together to keep out draft. Snacks occasionally find their way up here, and the roof keeps the rain off well enough to pass a night -- so long as the teachers don't catch any students at it. For anyone agile enough to make the jump, a lucky leap juuust might carry them from here to the school rooftop, so long as they're careful of the drop... "-- I'm pretty sure we /weren't/ supposed to write essays." A quiet hint of amusement curls through Taylor's voice. Kinda dry. Kinda soft. He's tucked into the corner of the treehouse, where he's brought lunch escaping here following their last class of the day. Dipping a broken-off hunk of roll into his bowl of chili, he leans back against the wall, eying Paras's incipient paper. "We /just/ got out of that class you're already doing it?" "S'not due till Friday." Anole's words are muffled through a mouthful of food. Even though they only just got up here, his plate is half empty already. The lizardkid sits in a crouch, plate balanced between his stomach and thighs, bulky spiked arm curled defensively around it. His smaller hand is shoveling food rapidly into his FACE. "Anyway I'm not really sure..." He swallows his food, brows furrowed as he looks over at Paras. He bites down on his lip, shaking his head for a moment. Then shrugging. "You're actually putting work into it?" This sounds only the tiniest bit skeptical. "I mean, class was..." But this trails off again. He continues scarfing down his food. Paras has bundled up snug and warm, scarf wound round and round her neck and a heavy thick shawl draped over her many other layers. She's neglecting her food, so far untouched as she just looks over her Ethics class notes, homework questions, answers written out in a precise neat script on her page. Her mind is cluttered -- partially with thoughts of how godawful cold this country is, partially with a glut of information she's committing to paper, partially with a healthy dose of lingering annoyance from class that she is working on pushing back. "I am putting a good lot of work into it, yes." She sounds quite earnest about this, in counterpoint to Anole's skepticism, maroon eyes lifting briefly from the paper. "Perhaps it will be harder for Professor Moonstar to dismiss our opinions when she has them solidly written down." "Wouldn't bet on /that/." Taylor's cheerful about this, anyway. "I'm pretty sure disrespecting and ignoring your students is like, top of the fucking /list/ for what you learn in teacher school." A shivering echo of the teacher's voice from class ghosts through the others' minds -- << 'GMO /crops/ which you guys seemed pretty wholeheartedly against' >> together with more distant echoes of their own lively opinions from the previous day. "Anyway, Paras, you're new here so let me fill you in. Opinions at this school only matter if they're in lockstep with what the school /wants/ you to think. I mean don't get me wrong, /do/ the homework, we're all going to." Anole nods towards Taylor, emphatically. "Do the work and keep your head down. Wasting your time with /most/ of the teachers if you --" There's a flicker of long-held anger that clenches up within him and then ebbs again. "Or you just find the good teachers and frontload your schedule with them but --" His nose wrinkles up. "Sadly a lot of them are in classes you can't load up too heavy. Art. Drama. Gymnastics." "I would be quite glad of it if we could take a full course of dance and gymnastics." Paras's eyes have lit with amusement, before they drop back to her page. "It's very different, here. From home." Wistful, now. She sets her pencil down, chin propped now on her fist. "When Vidhu and I came, our parents hoped --" She shakes her head, though, sitting up and taking her plate into her lap. "My teachers at home were better, in honesty. But to meet you all? To have company of others like us?" Here, for a moment, her smile is soft and genuine. "For that, at least, perhaps crossing the world has been a positive." One of Taylor's arms snakes out across the room, curling in to squeeze at Paras's shoulder. "Man. When you put it that way we sound kind of alright." Though the huff of breath he pushes out is sharp and quick. "Between the apocalypse and all, though, you could have timed it better." "Nah." Anole's finished his lunch, now, setting the empty plate aside and resting his huge clawed hand down on the floor. "Not possible. Around here the world's /always/ ending."