Xavier's librarian might hope the library is a quiet place to sit and study, but with a school full of teenagers that is not always the case. Nevertheless, it is certainly a treasure trove of knowledge, well-stocked with a wealth of books on its high shelves. Its reference section is vast, though its fiction is as well (much to the delight of many of its students.) The wide octagonal tables and smaller armchairs are often crowded with students, though the whispered conversations that often take place leave some doubt as to how much work is getting done at any given hour.
It is just late enough that the library of Xavier's is mostly deserted. Mostly. There is a wee Scottish redhead curled up in one of the armchairs all by her lonesome, reading something or other. She is just always up at night, isn't she? Some kind of nocturnal tendency has to be in here somewhere, honestly. But anyway, there she sits, chewing on a thumbnail absently with brows drawn together while she reads. To Kill a Mockingbird is the book of choice tonight.
Kris mostly tends not to have any kind of stratified sleep-schedule, herself. So when she waltzes into the library with her picture-binder under one arm, she's only mildly surprised to see Rahne there. She dumps herself into an armchair next to Rahne, and peers at the book the other girl has. Then she makes an impressed noise,"That is very heavy reading you have there... Now I feel a little silly for not bringing one of my own. Is it good?"
Rahne is not so buried in her book that she doesn't notice Kris coming into the library. She peers up and over her book, and then a smile shows once she recognizes who it is. "Hi," the wee Scot greets, lowering the book so it isn't in the way or acting as some rude roadblock to conversation. She glances down to it, though, with the comment, and her brows draw together again. "Aye. I didnae quite ken what I was getting into, I think. It's so sad, some of the stuff in it. How things were, aye?" Looking back up after, she takes a peek at the picture-binder, curious, and asks, "What's that then?"
Kris holds up the binder for the girl as if to suggest that she may take it,"It's my photo album. Sometimes in the 'wee hours', I contemplate where I've been so I can remind myself how far I've come. You can look if you wish, you just have to promise not to laugh or tell people what's in it." She shifts a bit in her seat, pulling her legs underneath her. "I'll try it sometime when you're done with it. So. You hear about the dance? Who you going with?"
"I promise I willna," the wee Scot says, and with such solemnity that not even a conman could doubt her sincerity. She accepts the binder and opens it up to take a look, curious. Soon enough, though, with the rest of what Kris says, her eyes dart back up. "Ach, a dance? Here?" This... apparently seems troubling to Rahne. "Nobody. I willna be goin'."
Kris whines at Rahne mere moments later,"Aaaawe! Really? Why not. Come on. You gotta go. There'll be dancing, and music, and fun... You've gotta go, Rahne." Rahne is now getting, ironically, Kris' own version of the sad puppy dog eyes. "It'll be my first dance. I gotta know all my friends are there so that I know they're having as much fun as me."
Rahne makes a valiant attempt at burying herself in the photo album. Pictures of people you know from a time before you knew them are so interesting. The whining, though, she can't quite ignore that. Her eyes lift again to Kris, and with shoulders hunched, she says, "But dancin' leads to... othar stuff," with her voice lowered on the last bit, implying /things/.
Kris smiles a little bit at Rahne, and shakes her head,"It doesn't HAVE to lead to other stuff. It doesn't lead to anything you don't want it to. Look at me? I'm going to go, and I'm going... I think the word is... going stag. I will dance, and then when I am done, I will go back to my room, sleep well, and dream well." She smiles, stifling her urge to giggle,"What exactly is it you think is going to happen?"
Alas for Rahne, she's sort of argued into a corner, isn't she. Her attention finally, completely drags away from the photo album so that she can look at Kris fully while thinking on it, lines stamped into her forehead while her brows cinch up together. "Erm," she sounds. "All kinds o' things. Bad things." She frowns faintly, lips thin. "It kin put thoughts into yer head." Even she has to admit it sounds a little bit ridiculous. The frown deepens. "I was ne'er allowed ta dance when I was growin' up," she finally admits.
Kris stares a Rahne for almost a full minute, then responds,"Thinking puts thoughts in your head." Then she snorts, and says,"And neither was I allowed to dance. It's not like it's a crazu sex-thing." As she looks around, seeing the library is pretty empty, she rises and holds out her hands,"Come on. I'll show you. Right now. It's about fun, not smacking faces together." Not that she actually knows how to dance, herself, beyond a bamboo dance.
"Aye, but the Reverend Craig..." the wee Scot starts to say, but her voice is very small. She watches Kris get up, and then she hesitates. For quite a long time there. But, as if in utter defiance of the man she just spoke of, Rahne does uncurl from her armchair of choice, book and photo album set aside, to join the other girl. "I feel very silly," she admits, voice barely bigger than a peep.
Kris has to think about this very hard... But finally gets an idea. She holds up one finger for Rahne to wait, then hurries into the stacks until she finds it: A book on dancing instruction. She flips to the section about slow-dancing, and reaches for Rahne's hands to put them up behind her neck in a classic slow-dance posture,"Normally, I think the girl is supposed to... 'follow'. But I'll lead this time." Then both hands slip around Rahne's waist,"If you're too creeped out or uncomfortable, you can put some distance between us, but I think it's easier if you're close. And then, I think we just sort of... shuffle our feet around in a vague circle while swaying our hips." As for feeling silly? "Even more reason to think nothing will happen."
It is probably a minor miracle that Rahne does not bolt from the library when Kris goes looking for the book on dance instruction. But there she is, still standing there, all awkward-sauce when Kris gets back. She moves stiffly when Kris starts arranging them, way outside of her comfort zone and also just not knowing what or how to do. But! She does try to follow Kris' lead. That's something, right?
Kris works her way through a few minutes of simple awkward shuffling and swaying, looking over to the book for direction from time to time, then pauses to flip the page. She says,"Okay. Now if you are feeling particularly close to the man you are dancing with, or you are just having a good time, you can close the gap and lay your cheek against his chest. Here, try it." Because this isn't awkward, at all. Rather than feel awkward herself, though, she tries to keep up running commentary,"If you feel like doing something a little weird or silly, you do it if it seems fun. That is 'creative'. And it will 'diffuse' tension. Remember, it is just a dance. Who cares about looking silly, you know?"
Awkward is definitely the name of the game for this. Rahne shuffles a lot more than she sways. Still stiff in character, and also with a burn starting in her cheeks. "Ach, nae," she protests, at the idea of cheek to chest. "That's where it /starts/." Look, this makes sense in her head somewhere, probably. "...won't people laugh, if ya look silly?"
Kris rolls her eyes and reaches out to gently encourage Rahne to 'get comfortable'. "Rahne, I'm a girl. It's not like you're going to get naughty-thoughts at me anyway. Besides, you have willpower. Nothing FINISHES unless you want it to. And who cares if they laugh. The teachers will slap them down if they're mean. You're there to have fun. Now come on." She makes a 'pffft' sound,"Besides, we're in High School. Noone knows how to dance."
The wee Scot frowns again. Frooowns. But she also can't come up with a good counter-argument. And so she tries to relax. Of course, focusing on relaxing usually means you don't really relax that well, but that's all right. There is something, at least. Eventually, eventually the thought that they are two girls trying to dance in a school library late at night hits her, and an actual giggle sneaks out. "Ach, we must look ridiculous, though," she points out, and giggles again.
Kris notices the relaxation, however slight, and actually gigles as well,"Yes, we probably do. But you see...? This isn't pervy at all, is it?" She actually loosens up a little as she contemplates the image they represent,"And then, if you like the guy you're dancing with, I think maybe you give him a kiss or peck or something on the cheek before you go back to... wherever it is you stand when not dancing." She releases the other girl and steps back, trying a bow like she'd seen in movies. It mostly just looks kind of stupid. "I do not think I like leading very much."
"No, not really," even Rahne has to admit. This is not leading to horrible unforgivable sin, is it? At least, she doesn't think so. At the bow, the little redhead stifles another giggle by bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. But then she makes an attempt at a curtsey in reply. It... probably looks a lot more stupid than Kris' bow, given that she is wearing a pair of jeans.
Kris manages not to bump heads with Rahne at that. "No uncontrollable urges? Not about to rip my clothes off or stick your tongue down my throat? Then I think you'll be fine at an actual honest to god dance." She claps her hands at the curtsey nonetheless. Probably because she has no idea what a real curtsey is supposed to look like. "See. You can do this."
Rahne could be offended, or horribly embarrassed, by Kris being oh-so-blunt about all that. And truth be told, her cheeks do redden up a touch again. But instead of reacting poorly, the wee Scot winds up first cracking a smile and then laughing. "No," she admits, trying to stifle it with a hand again. "No urges like that." Maybe dancing isn't so bad after all.
Kris actually cackles a little bit at that, and gestures to Rahne to sit again,"So you see, if you come to the dance, there will be much of the same, only with actual boys. And, well, if you do get naughty wrong-feelings from that, you must simply enjoy it and show your willpower by not engaging in it. Simple as that." She nods, then looks over at her picture binder, and turns to flip it open. She points at one of her 'boy' pictures,"Have you ever seen a picture of yourself and said 'I couldn't possibly have ever looked like that? That is what that is for me. I think I feel much the same about it as you do about boys seeing you 'wolfy'."
The wee Scot doesn't so much sit as curl back up in her armchair of choice. She does blush a little again, at the talk of boys and interacting with them on any level like that and oh good they are changing topics. Knees tucking up to her chest and arms around her legs to hold them there, she peeks at the photograph in the album that Kris points out, brows furrowed mildly. "No... but the Reverend wasna big on pictures, really. But I think I ken what ya mean."
Kris frowns a little bit,"Sometimes it sounds like your Reverend was nearly Amish... You should really just disregard the man, I think." She taps the photo again,"When I look at this, I tell myself... I want to be as far from this picture I can... Other days, I wake up, and I feel just as ugly as the day that was taken. Some days are going to be bad, and some are going to be good, but..." She looks up and points at Rahne,"... you should try to make as many of them as good as possible. You've got time now, and friends who care."
"Ach, nae, he didna wear funny hats," Rahne says. This probably shows what her exposure to the Amish has been like. At least she knows about them! After a long, drawn out beat, though, she half-whispers a, "Aye, maybe yer right," about the Reverend Craig. As if she can't even muster herself up to speak such a thing aloud at full volume. She blinks after, though. "Oh no, yer not ugly, Kris."
Kris wrinkles her nose in irritation,"I think your reverend is what we call a 'luddite'. I was raised Catholic, and then Muslim, and now... I do not have much care for anything. But it's hard not to cringe when I accidentally blaspheme. Hard instincts to get rid of." Then she's being reassured of her appearance, and... well... there's a reason this is an old theme with Kris. She never can QUITE believe it,"My voice is too deep by half, I'm too tall, my shoulders are too broad, and I have ZERO curves. You're kind, but this isn't the sort of thing boys, or even THAT kind of girl goes for. Aaagh. I can't wait until I'm older and I've grown out of all this."
"Catholic an' Muslim," she questions, as if struggling with such an idea, though wanting to understand it nonetheless. It just seems like two extremes, almost. Rahne falls quiet when Kris lists off all of her faults like that. She tucks in her knees a little closer, and in a quiet voice, says, "Aye, but ya have a good heart."
Kris wrinkles her nose at Rahne,"My birth parents were Catholic. The people who kidnapped me and forced me to fight for them were militant Muslims. My adoptive parents are Reformist Jews... but they're not really pushy about it." The whole wide band. Still, the claim from Rahne gets both a blush and a sort of sad expression,"I used to wonder, after everything I did. It doesn't seem to matter anywhere but with the people inside these walls. Coming from you, that means something. Most people can only see a 'gross tranny'." She spits the very last word as if it disgusts her to even say it. "People like you... You're the ones who make me feel... normal. Like I'm not some... counterfeit person. It's not even that it feels like you... accept my differences... People like you, it's almost like you barely even see them. I don't want to be normal... I want what I am to seem normal to everyone else... Does that make sense? What about you, Rahne... You dealing okay?"
Rahne tucks her chin on her knees, watching Kris, though her eyes drop now and then while she thinks on one thing or another. "The Bible teaches us ta love," she says, working her thoughts through even as she says them out loud. "It's not our place ta judge. 'Judge not, that ye be not judged. For what judgement ye judge, ye shall be judged: an' with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again,'" the wee Scot quotes. "It's our place ta love, ya ken?" She gives a small shrug of her shoulders after that. "I miss me mum. But I like bein' here. I like... havin' friends my age."
Kris nods slowly to that, as if contemplating the simple thought very carefully,"Ugh. I wish it were as simple for everyone. Boys are usually too fixated on appearances, and girl's usually want to ask too many questions. Which is funny because boys are so much fun to look at, and girl's are so much fun to talk to." She massages the bridge of her nose, and then laughs, suddenly,"That was extremely judgemental of me." She leans back in her chair and reaches out to squeeze the other girl's shoulder. "Do you write? Call her? Tell her you miss her? We have some teleporters at this school, I think. Maybe ask one of them to take you by for a quick visit as a personal favor?"
The wee Scot shows a smile of humor when Kris declares her statement as judgmental, eyes squinting up with it. "Oh, aye, I call her all the time. She talks when she has the time. She kin get very busy, though. She's a scientist," she says, proud about that last bit. "I dinnae ken about askin' a teleporter. I wouldna want ta get undarfoot. She said she'll visit when she can."
Kris actually smiles a little at hearing that, and offers,"I'm not sure it's underfoot if you ask? I suppose they might not like a lot of requests, but seeing your mother, if they don't mind, doesn't SOUND like an unreasonable request." She closes her eyes and enjoys the couch,"What kind of scientist? Oh, have you met that Bobby guy? The one who makes ice?"
"She's a geneticist," Rahne explains. "She, erm... she figured out what makes us mutants?" So much pride and love there, even with the puzzlement of someone who doesn't quite have the head for the level of science the person she's speaking of works in. Of course, she's just a teenager who had little exposure to science prior to being adopted by Moira, but then she probably never will quite be on that level no matter what. As if it matters. With mention of the boy who makes ice, though, her cheeks redden and she looks away. "Aye, aftar a fashion."
Kris looks impressed,"Your mother is THAT scientist?" Apparently she's heard of her. Then again... It's likely most people have, at least in passing. She actually jostles Rahne in a gentle, teasing manner,"After a fashion? Howso? Oh, he's cute, no doubt about it, but... insanely irritating, in my opinion. You like him a bit, then? For me... I like the pretty boys, but... being NICE is more important. When it comes to girls, personality is extra-important. I'm... not sure why that is, exactly. A little bit of personal bias, I suppose." She shrugs helplessly, then a bit of teasing,"You liiiiike him."
"Ach, ya've heard of me mum?" Apparently Rahne did not hear the news that most people probably know about her. "I mean, she's me adoptive mum, really..." This all falters, though, with the talk of Bobby. And the teasing. A scowl draws out on the wee Scot's face. "He's not very nice," she says. "He wasna kind at all." She looks away then, though, and eventually admits, "I did kinda take a bite out o' his ice sculpture." This does not sound ridiculous at all out of context.
Kris knows Rahne probably has a preposterous bite radius in her other shape anyway. "I think everyone must've! Doctor McTaggert, right?" She actually giggles,"Very important to mutant issues." She makes a face though,"He is not. He is good eye-candy. I like my men be... athletic, usually. But it's no good if they are asses. With women... This may sound odd, but I don't even find them attractive until I've gotten to know them well. Even then, they have to make me feel... I don't know... good? I don't have the correct words for it, I think. It's complicated." She DOES have to ask, finally,"Why DID you take a bite out of his ice sculpture? I'm sure he deserved it... but still."
"Aye, Moira MacTaggert," the wee Scot confirms. "She's very smart. An' she kens all these things I could nevar dream of learnin'." No doubt, a phone call is in Rahne's near future, because she usually starts to miss her mum something fierce when thinking about her. And she listens to Kris' explanation, though she baffles quietly at finding women attractive. As for the ice sculpture, weeeell... "Well I came in from the woods an' through the garden an' there it was, big as day, an'... well I wanted ta ken what it tasted like," she admits, all embarrassed. "I'm always wantin' ta smell an' taste things when I'm... ach, well it all sounds so silly. But I didna mean ta do any damage. An' I tried ta give it back. But he got mad an' threatened ta melt it and spritz me with it."
Kris tilts her head a little bit,"Don't like water so much when you're in your wolf shape? Don't worry so much, by the way. A lot of people have different or unusual instincts imparted by their powers. So poop on Bobby for not being nicer, okay?" A pause follows, and then she offers,"Every time I use my power, I kind of get... itchy... for a fight. I mean, I create weapons out of thin air, so I suppose that makes sense. Sometimes I wonder if it's why my temper is so bad." She merely shakes her head, though, willing the thoughts away... though her breath does quicken ever so slightly just from thinking about it. "Anyway, you realize your mother is, like... really, really, really smart...? Like... maybe a handful of people on the planet who aren't mutant-smart are as smart as her."
"No, I like watar, really, I like ta swim. But he was just not very nice about it." Principle of the thing and all that, right? Well, Rahne probably won't be chomping on any other ice sculptures any time soon. "Itchy?" she asks, cocking her head to the side just so. "So... if ye use yer powar, ya wanna fight with somebody?" The little redhead's brow creases with mild worry about that. Not worry for herself or anyone else, but worry for Kris. "Oh, aye, she is. Ya should see where she works, everythin' she has for it."
Kris nods to Rahne,"Back when I was a prisoner of the Moro, they'd dose me with kava powder to make me 'fearless' and ready to fight. I started to associate that with fighting, and my power was always used when they were going to send me into battle. So it all got kinda mixed up. I kicked the drug habit, but some of the associations remain. It might just all be in my head, but... Yeah. It's not like I can't fight it, but... I've noticed I get into fights easier when I have one of my weapons in my hand. Maybe it's easier because I just have a weapon RIGHT THERE, you know?" She shrugs helplessly,"I've only had one sort-of accident since I got here, and noone was hurt, so that's good. Anyway, I bet you're super-proud of her. I'd love to see a lab like that. Maybe she'd tell me everything goin' on with me."
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