ArchivedLogs:Makeup & Fashion

Makeup & Fashion
Dramatis Personae Jack, Rasa, Shane	2015-01-10 '
Location <XS> Gymnasium - B1
For a mutant school, this is a pretty standard gym, even if its sturdy construction to handle mutant powers is less standard. Still, it is designed along normal lines; setup for a basketball court, standard equipment -- punching bags, rubber mats, standard assortment of balls, weight training equipment, the usual fare. It is large, and as well-appointed as the rest of Xavier's tends to be. Mid morning, the noises of limbs impacting with the somewhat relenting surface of a heavy bag. There is a small figure throwing hir body at the aforementioned bag, hir eyes locked steadily on it. The teen is wearing a white band across hir chest and a pair of baggy gym shorts around hir lower half. Hir hands and feet are wrapped in athletic tape, as well as some parts of the leg and arm they are attached too. Ze is also covered in bruises with some minor lacerations to boot, a frown fixed on hir focused face. At length, ze takes a break, wandering over to hir towel to mop hir face and a water bottle, to put some liquid back into hir system. Where Rasa leaves off Shane takes over. Thump-/thump/ thump-/thump/. Shane is in only gym shorts, hands wrapped as well, knuckles and wrists. There are darker splotches of purple-blue on his gleaming skin, as well as some raw red lines healing along his sides that look like they might have been /gouges/ before they started healing. His teeth are bared, gills pressed flat along his sides and neck though intermittently they flare. THUD THUD THUD. Maybe the bag as pissed him off. Jack's silent as he enters the gym, dressed in school issued work out pants and a tank top it looks like haunted gym clothes have wandered in. Some bruises and cuts on him are as unseen as the rest other than a bandage or two floating around the areas of his upper arms. Towel hanging on his shoulder, he arches a brow at the sounds of the bag's pummeling. He spots Rasa first, stopping himself from waving since he doesn't even have sleeves to hint at it today. "Hey," he greets when he's close enough not to have to yell across the gym. His gaze moves to Shane punching the bag for a few moments and Jack wonders just how much punishment the punching bags at the school can take before becoming a sandy mess. "I'm thinking about getting you opera gloves, Jack. Do you like satin?" Rasa inhales deeply, trying to slow hir breathing a little, hir free hand pressed hard against the small of hir back. Ze rolls hir head from right to left to give her neck a good stretch. "How are you feeling?" Ze turns back to watch Shane. Ze doesn't really interrupt while he's pounding away, gnawing on hir lip. Evidently a good deal of abuse, because the punching bag seems to be standing up to Shane's -- /enormously/ harder than most average human's -- blows with equanamity. His nose twitches when Jack enters, a small growl rumbling in his throat. A heavy final blow rocks the bag, and he moves aside to swipe Rasa's water bottle and take a drink for himself. "Doesn't really go with any of his clothes, though. Would have to get some new outfits to go with satin opera gloves." "Opera gloves? There are gloves for singing?" Jack asks. "And I don't know. I don't know if I've felt satin before," the invisible one replies honestly. That final hard blow draws his attention back to the bag and Jack makes another mental note to try not to get Shane mad at him. He laughs at the comment on his wardrobe though. "Yeah, my wardrobe's not uh...diverse," he chuckles. "I've got some gloves for the winter I found in a thrift shop in the city though." "Technically, they are gloves for listening to opera. They are mostly just long. I have a couple pair, it helps keep people from accidentally bumping into my skin." Rasa gives a little shrug and lets Shane take hir bottle, a brow rising. "Bah. I've made opera gloves work with a number of outfits, but it is true that Jack doesn't have my flare for color." Ze runs a hand through hir damp and wavy hair before blotting hir towel against it. "He just doesn't have flair. I don't think he really has /outfits/ he just wears Xavier's sweatshirts all the time." Shane shrugs one shoulder, stretching a hand up in front of him as if picturing an opera glove on it. "There's a couple of the teachers will take you shopping. Diversify." He sets the water bottle back down, tugging his shorts higher up on his hips. "Most people don't. Have your knack for colour, though." "Why would you need special gloves to listen to opera?" Jack asks. When Rasa explains more, realization hits the unseen teen. "Oh, the really long ones are opera gloves. Never knew that," he admits. "Which teachers?" he asks. "I could probably use some fashion advice anyway, never been too good at that sort of thing," he says with a shrug. "There are clothes for every occasion. You've seen how people dress around here. Shane has a very classy wardrobe, but at the same time, you'll notice that he isn't wearing a vest and slacks now." Rasa turns hir gaze toward Shane, hir attention drawn more to his wound than what he's wearing. "I don't wear suits, but that's a personal choice. I think my choices are a little closer to B's." Ze does register Shane's comment and flushes with a rainbow of colors, each washing over and pushing the next one out, until ze returns to a bronze-flesh tone. "They won't all give you good fashion advice," Shane cautions with a small snort. "Professor Summers will /take/ you but he's got the fashion sense of a gibbon. Professor Wagner's fly, though. And Professor Munroe is hella fucking classy. Also my --" He cuts himself off here, sharply, gills fluttering briefly as he looks down at the floor. His teeth scrape slowly against his lower lip before he continues. "My pa," he continues, slower and a little stiffly, "s'got a good eye for clothing and will take people. Uh, Jax, not Micah, Micah's /also/ got the fashion sense of a doorpost." His lips curl up in a smile again as Rasa flits through colours. "Yeah, I have seen you in some cool stuff," Jack remarks to Shane, remembering some of the outfits he saw Shane wearing in the past. He listens to the list of teachers and makes a few notes on who to ask sometime later. He hums faintly, knowing money might be a problem but its one he'll figure out another time. Shaking it off, Rasa's color changing cycle gets his attention and he smiles as well. "I'm a little more limited in my color options. Just clear," he jokes. "I don't see how. You could wear whatever color face paint you like, with no fear that the color will clash or wash you out." Rasa turns back to the heavy bag and stares it down again, shifting hir feet into a fighting stance. "You can dress your skin up as much as you like - or continue au natural. It's the nice part about having choices." Ze steps in and strikes the bag. "And he's right about Professor Summers. Sometimes, I think he's a post." "Yeeah, you're really only kinda limited by being boring as fuck. You could talk to Rasa about that, too. Or B. Jax. They're good with makeup. Colour. Art. You pretty much got whatever options you /want/ for colours." Shane circles slowly around to the other side of the bag, watching it sway as Rasa strikes it. "Definitely /got/ a post shoved somewhere." "Make up I will definitely need some advice on sometime if I ever use it. I have no idea about any of that," Jack replies, watching Rasa hit the bag. "Most I've ever done was get dirt on my face so someone could see it," he adds, starting to stretch out as he prepares for his own workout. "I get the general impression Professor Summers is one of the least liked teachers here, huh?" "He's okay, he's just... somewhat personalityless. He's great for learning math, geometry especially. He's really got angles and directions down, but he's also the biggest proponent for the rules. He'll also treat you like a kid more than any other adult here." Rasa delivers another strike with hir opposite elbow, but hir energy is down at this point. "Make up is fine. I learned it mostly from Eloise and youtube videos, but I did it when my powers short circuited and needed my color back. I am not necessarily the best if you just want a basic, normal looking color." "I actually like him, I just like ragging on him. He is kind of a dick, though. But so'm I." This time after Rasa hits the bag Shane hits it back, mirroring the strike, elbow for elbow. With a lot more /vim/. "He was my pa's advisor. Can't be all wrong. -- Anyway you should go with blue. S'the best colour." "Huh. Just heard a couple of the others mention not liking him is all," Jack shrugs. "I should probably start with the basics before getting into full color stuff. You're both right though, I could try just about any color I wanted. Couldn't hurt to give some a shot before worrying about normal," he replies. "Blue is a pretty great color." Rasa watches Shane approach the bag and hir spine straightens. Ze delivers another strike to the bag, with increasing effort. The elbow strike is followed by a roundhouse style knee strike. Ze eyes Shane to see if he'll continue. "What's your favorite color?" Shane's gills ripple down his sides, and he mirrors Rasa's motions again. His elbow thuds in a solid smack into the bag, soon followed by his leg coming up, hip turning over and leg snapping to knee the bag, roundhouse style to send the bag rocking back toward Rasa. "He's a total fucking hardass is why. Complete stickler for every fucking rule. I think he's put me in like seventeen million detentions. Nooot everyone's cup of tea. -- I wonder," his train of thought switches tracks abruptly, "if the school'd add a makeup course to the art curriculum. That'd be fucking badass. And wicked helpful for a lot of people." "Red," Jack replies. He hasn't worn much red but he does like it. The mirrored assault on the bag gets a curious little hum from Jack as he watches but the mention of detention makes him laugh. "Maybe he just likes having you in detention with him?" he tries again to joke. "Huh. Makeup class sounds like a pretty awesome idea," he agrees with a nod. "Yeah, he didn't like giving detention in the Danger Room, so it was the most boring type of detention manageable." Rasa adjusts hir distance and repeats the sequence, adding in the roundhouse kick and then a spinning back kick. "Maybe there are makeup classes as part of the theater courses. It makes sense to add it to the art program. It is a form of self expression after all." Ze listens to Jack, hir brows rising. "Eh, he's not that warm. He pretty much only cares about Professor Xavier and Dr. Grey." "Once I had to copy pages out of the fucking student handbook." Without pupils it's hard to see Shane's eyes rolling but his tone kind of /implies/ it. Once again he mimics Rasa's blows. Elbow, roundhouse knee, roundhouse kick, spinning back kick; after this he adds in a backfist. "I think he cares. Somewhere under the stick-up-his-ass. Don't think /anyone/ likes having me in detention wit them though. Bet there's a /few/ fucking staff around here who'll throw a goddamn /party/ if I manage to fucking. Graduate this year." Jack's shoulders slump a moment and he sighs. "I am just not good at jokes this week," he murmurs. He shakes it off quickly though. "You guys train like this a lot together? The whole copying moves thing?" he asks. "Maybe you should stop trying with the jokes." Rasa once more shrugs, watching Shane's delivery with a critical eye. "Yeah, this is how we train. It's pretty much the best way. You start out watching someone do something, then you try it yourself, generally with instruction, then constant repetition, then you move on to this..." Rasa delivers the elbow, the knee, the first kick, then the second. Ze gives a quick grunt of exertion when ze gives the back hand. Ze crouches low as if to duck a blow, then comes up with a uppercut to the midsection of the bag. "Jokes?" Shane's brows lift in brief confusion. His teeth grit afterwards, gills flaring and then pressing flat as he works through the routine again. A bit of his wrap comes loose with the uppercut, flapping looser still when he follows it with a quick one-two pair of jabs. "S'good. Nice to have someone there." His words are a little choppier now, kind of cut off as his gills intermittently flutter. "To watch you. Correct your form if you fuck up. Take you through moves you might forget on your own. -- Sometimes we throw down /with/ each other. S'fun practice too." "Maybe," Jack murmurs, looking away for a few moments. "I'll try to use 'em less," he eventually replies. "Just my attempts at comedy failing here is all," he says. He listens intently to Shane and Rasa, watching their moves as well. "I should give it a try sometime. Seems like a good workout." "Jokes are about knowing your audience. You just got here. You'll get to know your audience eventually." Rasa rolls one shoulder to keep it limber, brows rising as Shane continues. "And sometimes, we can take the other to the Med Bay should there be any injuries. It happens." Ze then turns to the bag and starts in on the sequence, finishing off with a side kick that flicks the bag a little to the right of Shane's position. Shane lapses back into quiet for the next series. Soft grunts, quiet breaths pushed through his teeth. This time he ends with a butterfly kick, spinning to slam into the back hard enough to rock it heavily towards Rasa and send him kind of flying back a little bit in the process. He presses his hand to the side of his neck to push his gills down, scrunching his eyes shut. "Sometimes," he agrees wryly. "Fff. I should maybe." He stops, catching his breath. "... get to work. It's a good workout if you have a good workout partner." "Hopefully you're right. I could probably stand to improve my skills too," Jack remarks. He blinks at the mention of med bay trips and then laughs again. "So just a more punchy and kicky version of football workouts. All good," he replies. He gives an impressed whistle when he sees Shane's butterfly kick, nodding. "Careful out there, it's supposed to be all icy and nasty tonight weather-wise." Rasa skirts around the swinging bag and moves to Shane's side when he ends up stumbling. Ze looks prepared for him to fall over, but waits, studying him. "Yeah, I suppose it is getting late in the day. Jack, there are self defense classes. You can take one to start your training with good foundations and then branch out from there." Ze turns and trots over to get hir towel and water bottle. "Mind if I come too?" Shane drapes an arm around Rasa's shoulders, maybe equal parts affection and catching himself. "Sure-sure. But I'm coming back here for the night after my shift just so you know." He jerks his chin upward to Jack. Maybe acknowledgment. Maybe farewell. "I'll bundle up." His teeth flash in bright grin. He starts unwrapping the tape from his knuckles as he starts wandering off towards the locker rooms. Jack nods. "I know. I'm going to be taking one of them. Just came by to hit the weights today though," he replies. "See you later," he offers, heading towards the benchpress to start his workout.