ArchivedLogs:Making Friends

Making Friends
Dramatis Personae Kris, Rahne
In Absentia	2013-05-06 Kris and Rahne meet in the gardens.
Location <XS> Gardens
<XS> Gardens From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. At the far back edges of the garden, a droning buzzing marks a few stacked white boxes as beehives. It's a quiet night for her. As is common this late at night, she's actually wearing some loose 'My Little Pony' pajamas, with Rainbow Dash all over them. In Kris' hands is some sort of tupperware container with an aromatic dish of some sort steaming inside it. Right now, she's sitting on the edge of the koi pond, laughing when Koi nibble her toes and using her big toe to occasionally poke a turtle when one swims close enough. In her pajama shirt pocket, an iPod merrily plays whatever tune she has going on it (Apocalytpica's "Don't Care" ft. Adam Gontier) as she croons along in that too deep, throaty voice of hers. When the drums hit a climax, it is often punctuated by her feet splashing in the water loudly in time with the music. All in all, relatively merry (except for the song) for this late in the evening. As much as she loves the woods, Rahne is also a big fan of the gardens, and really just gardens in general. With her sense of smell, and its varying levels of above-average to absolutely inhuman, flowers and herbs are especially pleasing, and she also can't quite seem to get over a fascination for the frogs. Also, gardens are an attempt at taming the wilderness, no matter how you look at it, and that fact resonates deeply with the wee Scot's subconscious. Anyway, so she's no stranger out here, and decides to stray out for a visit to see what green things might be growing, barefoot and in jeans and a longsleeved shirt. She doesn't quite expect to stumble across anybody else, and so when she spies Kris, she pauses a long moment, cuff of her shirt sleeve scrunched up in hand, before deciding on not being a wallflower. She strays closer, and attempts an, "Erm, hello." Kris clutches at her container like she's about to jump out of her skin when spoken to, and even reaches across to her left side, as if for a weapon. When her hand finds no hilt or handle, she relaxes it and offers a slight smile to Rahne,"Oh, hello. We have not met. I am Kris. Kira's roommate? I do not believe we have met, yet." Fluffing out her hair a little bit, she gestures to a bare patch of ground next to her,"Cool off your feet?" Having noticed the girl is barefoot at the moment, she wiggles her own toes,"We were made to feel the grass on our feet, I think." Holding up her tupperware container,"My favorite... Rice and lamb pilaf. May I offer you some? It's very good in my opinion." A pause, and she asks,"American? Your english sounds... different." For her part, Rahne looks as if she's ready to dart backwards at the drop of a hat, and so Kris' startle triggers a small startle in her. But the wee slip of a Scot settles right after, even if she continues to wring and knead her shirt cuff in hand. "Aye, nae," she says, which... is totally not confusing at all. "We havena. I'm Rahne." She considers the invitation, and then brightens, a genuine smile showing, with talk of feeling the grass. "Aye, that we are." And so she moves to sit. And poke a toe experimentally in the water. As for the offer of food, she holds up a hand with a polite, "Nae, thank ye," and then sounds a laugh right after. "Ach, nae. I'm from Scotland. You?" Kris answers the woman right back,"The Phillipines. Cebu City to be exact." She grins a bright, toothy smile and gives the girl a thumbs up,"Beware the turtles. The fish don't hurt when they nibble, but the turtles will take off a toe if you don't shoe them away. I don't know about you, but I cannot regrow them." She pokes one of the aforementioned turtles with a toe. She spoons up some more food into her mouth, wondering between bites,"I like your skirt. I wish I had more, but I do not have the hips to make them work, so I mostly avoid them." She wonders after a long moment,"Do you ever paint your nails? I like pink myself." She lifts a foot to show off that said toenails are indeed painted pink. Rahne peers into the water, no doubt looking for the turtles. "I nevar had them try ta bite before," she quietly muses. Her brows draw together while she thinks. "I dinna ken, really. I've nevar lost a toe before." This is, apparently, a serious question to contemplate. Her brows stay drawn while she rubs at the nape of her neck, exposed so because of her red hair being so short. "Oh, no. I wasna allowed when I was youngar," the wee Scot says, of painting nails. After a beat, she sort of blurts out, "Make-up and paintin' nails leads ta sin." She blinks right after that, and quickly fumbles with her explanation of, "I was taught, anyway." She doesn't think it now, right? ...right. With a hint of crimson in her otherwise pale cheeks, Rahne sits quiet a long moment, awkward. "I mean. I ken it doesn't, now..." Kris shrugs a little bit,"Maybe they do not like the taste of Scotlanders?" She finishes off her dish, and sets it aside, thumping to lay down in the water while she swishes her feet in the water quietly. Thus laying back, she can watch the girl with an attentive sort of interest,"Oh. I wasn't either. Then I came here, and my new American parents said I could." She is quiet for a few long moments after that,"I was just too young for my birth parents to let me do it, though. Besides, they had just come around to believing me when I told them I was not a boy. Makeup and painting nails may have been a bit much to ask them, you know? They were good parents though. Did it because they cared. Do you want to, then? I think I've got some extra polish that isn't pink." That's a lie. She KNOWS she has some. About a dozen other types. A brief smiles shows at the idea of turtles not finding Scottish folk palatable, but the seriousness of the rest of the conversation--or what Rahne perceives as serious--waters it down. "Me mum would probably let me, now," she thinks aloud quietly, though she does mean to let Kris in on that bit of information, as well. Talk of not being a boy, however, throws the wee Scot for a complete loop. She sort of stops everything to run the line back through her head a few times, because surely she misheard, and then looks at Kris a bit sideways, baffling. "What, they didna ken?" she queries, and rubs a knuckle against her nose. Now that she thinks about it, really, the other girl's scent isn't quite... well. Hmm. Kris nods to the Scot, explaining,"Most people would say I was 'born male'. Most people like me would say 'I was assigned as physically male at birth by a physician'. Say it however you want. They were very supportive once they accepted it though." She skips over the darker details of her background,"My adoptive parents, though... They knew what I was going into adopting me." She rifles through her pajama pockets and finds her pink nail polish. Sitting up, she beckons for Rahne to give her her hands,"May I? I think they would look so pretty... If red weren't such a sexy color nails, I would suggest we paint them red to match your hair. Aieee, you're so lucky. You have amazing hair." One could easily say that, for the most part, Rahne had led a sheltered childhood. And though her current mum certainly endeavored to teach the wee Scot about the world in a way that wasn't quite so... oppressive, this is still quite new territory for her. She continues to baffle, even while fitting little puzzle pieces together in her head. Finally, out of all the things rattling around, what she manages to blurt out is, "But why on earth would ye want ta be a girl?" Look, it is a really good question in her world, okay. While thinking back to the conversation she had with her roommate, Mari, about Mari's friend Jen--which, incidentally, causes her to turn a little red again--Rahne considers the nail polish for a long time, brows tugged together again. But then, inching ever further out of the Reverend Craig's shadow, she offers over a hand, shy about it. "My hair? Oh, no." Kris flops to a more convenient position, takes Rahne's hand, and begins to paint the nails in long, slow, careful, and even strokes. She is, in fact, paying careful attention. "You're asking the wrong question? The right question might be: Why do I believe I am already a girl? I do not see myself as a boy trying to be a girl. I see myself as a girl trying to be the way she should've been born. Nothing about being a boy feels 'right'. A question you might ask yourself: Why don't you hate being a girl? If you can answer that question, then apply its answer to me as well. I'm sure your answer will be along the lines of 'Because it feels right.'. Or 'it's who I am'." She begins to blow on one of the girl's nails while she works on the next,"No, it is quite amazing. Very pretty. You will have all the boys fawning over you and-" Then SHE blushes,"Aaah, I did the same thing you just did. I hope I do not insult you by assuming you like boys. You just do not seem very... butch I believe is the word." Even she has her own stereotypes, after all. "Which is quite alright, of course, if you are. I'm afraid I'm a bit stupid when it comes to understanding those... 'mushy' things." With at least one hand more or less occupied, the wee Scot winds up chewing on her lower lip while she further thinks all of that through. Eventually, with a soft voice, and eyes on the nail-painting instead of properly on Kris, she says, "When I was youngar, I wanted ta be a boy. They got ta go outside more, an' go huntin', play sports. They didna hafta stay in ta cook an' clean. They didna hafta keep quiet in church, an' only speak when spoken to." A frown forms, drawn in as if pressed into clay. "But then me mum showed me that's not how it needs ta be, an' I stopped wanting that." And then she's back to baffling at Kris, green eyes flicking up as her brows furrow and forehead wrinkles. "What's butch mean?" Kris smiles a little bit,"That is... not quite the same, but still a valid urge. You wanted to be a boy because you felt limited by the expectations of being a girl. I see myself as a girl because when I look in the mirror or hear my own voice, I am horrified by what I see there. And please, do not take that to mean I am unhappy. Just in the process of becoming a happier person. I am, at this moment, a happier person than ever I have been. Remember, noone has a right to limit your life with arbitrary rules that serve no purpose other than to make others more comfortable." Preachy today, isn't she? She moves on to yet another nail,"Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman. I am glad you had her. And butch is... butch is a kind of lesbian who is very burly and stocky and even a little mannish in approach." She finishes that hand and gestures to Rahne's other,"Keep that hand out and be careful with it until it dries." She reaches for the other hand,"What do you want to do with your life now?" Because of their proximity, of the need to touch while painting nails, Kris will no doubt feel the subtle change in Rahne's posture at the mention of being horrified. At first, she stiffens slightly. But then, after another long moment to think on it, she relaxes again. "I think I undarstand," the wee Scot says quietly. Because that is something that she has known all too well, if for a different reason. "Oh, aye, she is. She really is. She helps people. She helped me. Saved me. An' she's very smart. She's a scientist." As she offers over the other hand, giving a curious if confused look at her now painted one, Rahne blushes again. "Ach, I dinna... fancy girls." With that question, though, she's thrown for another loop. After another one of her long pauses, she finally says, "I guess... I wanta help people. Like me mum. Only, some othar kinda way, since I'm not that smart." She actually squeezes Rahne's hand when it stiffens, but otherwise doesn't comment on it. Kris has no desire to embarass Rahne when there's a chance she might avoid it,"I am changing that, though. I have medicines, and nice clothes, and I practice my voice. One day, I will get everything... 'sorted'." She nods emphatically, and wiggles her toes a bit in the water,"I think you do understand. More people here understand than don't. I do not feel so odd here." Working on the other hand, she'll blow on a nail from time to time as if not satisfied with her progress. "That is good. Many men, they lament that women do not care so much about sports that they enjoy. And your mother will get grandchildren. All around good." She actually grins at this,"I do not know what I fancy, exactly. There is one boy who has a cute smile and is pleasing to look at, and another who is very kind to me and understands me. But I have no idea what to do with either of these things, or even if I should, considering." She makes a face,"I can say girls are pretty, but I am not sure if I appreciate their beauty, or if it is attractive. Very confusing. How do you know the difference?" Still chattering, she goes on,"I wish to do the same. My advisor, Scott... He has said he will help me with this. Anyway, you are likely smarter than you think. For all we know, it just means you have to put in a lot of work. You have a good attitude, though. I think it will make all the difference in the world." Under other circumstances, perhaps, people might expect Rahne to shy away from this conversation. Or even vehemently turn away with it, because of her upbringing and the grip it still holds on her. To want to change what God gave you, after all, is a form of blasphemy. At least, in the Reverend Craig's world. And yet, as Kris chats on and continues painting her nails, the wee Scot continues to relax. Maybe it helps, that Kris speaks so openly about it, instead of it being some taboo thing. And so that makes it okay. She does, though, color again at the idea of grandchildren. Though with the question of knowing the difference, she concentrates again on her thoughts, and then offers, "Ya ken, I dinna really ken." Kris finally finishes with the other hand,"I'd do your feet if they weren't going to be walking for a while, but let's let you get used to the fingernails before we paint your toenails." She examines Rahne's nails, then nods to herself as if satisfied. "Mmm. I will figure it out, then. The whole romance thing is kind of scary. Fun to think about, not so much fun to actually try to make it happen. Personally, I would rather be hunting, or dancing, or listening to music." She seems to find this amusing for some reason,"I think those things are easier than boys and such. They do not talk back and if you do something embarassing, it is mostly just fun. I think growing up was invented to give adults a few more years to chuckle at us. Anyway, I am told all young women worry that their bodies will look strange to boys, so I do not feel quite so odd in that regard as I used to. What about you?" Babblebabblebabble. After Kris' nod of satisfaction, Rahne pulls her hands in to examine her nails more closely. Because what. She is such a rebel right now. After a cursory sniff of curiosity, she then peeks at Kris and asks, "...what do I do with them now?" Because there must be something else, right? "I dinna much undarstand boys, either," she says, though, and a faint smile sneaks out, because it's God's honest truth. "I dinna think I'll hafta worry much 'bout it, though. I dinna 'xactly... well I kinda scare some people off. Sometimes." Kris shakes her hands in demonstration,"You can shake them gently to dry them. Just not too hard, or the polish will shift and clump. You might blow on them gently, as well. Once they're dry... just go about your business, and watch boys drool over you. She gets something of a giggle out of it,"You underestimate yourself. Don't worry about it, but... Just think... if you'd ever had a good chance at catching a cute boy, it's here. Learning to be so tolerant and together, I think they look more into your value as a person than as eye-candy. And you're nice, and your pretty, so that's a bonus for them." She stretches out to lay back in the grass again,"And who knows, maybe it'll be a guy who likes it when you're in charge. Then he won't even want to tell you what to do. I think the boys at our school are nicer than others." After the demonstration, Rahne gives her own hands a careful, experimental shake. She maybe looks a little ridiculous doing so. The color returns to her cheeks, though, faint as it is, at the compliment. "Ach, I'm nae pretty," the wee Scot denies. "Yer prettier than I am." She falls quiet again, and that seems to be the pattern, doesn't it? She keeps quiet for a while, maybe thinks on things. Although, this time around, there's maybe not so much thinking, because she winds up blurting out, "I turn inta a wolf." You know, to explain away why boys won't be much of a problem. After, she keeps her gaze trained down. Kris actually LAUGHS when the girl says she's prettier, but grows a little more somber a moment later after doing so. "Rahne, I have an Adam's apple, virtually no breasts, no hips, I'm too tall, and I was born with parts you don't have, not to mention the voice that could sing Barry White. If you think I'm prettier than you, then you have a very low opinion of yourself, and my heart aches for you because of it." She touches her throat self-consciously, then clears her throat,"A wolf? Well, isn't that neat then!" She totally misread why Rahne told her. "With all those vampire and werewolf movies being so popular, you'll have a nice boy after you in no time! All I do is make guns and other weapons out of energy. Got your eye on any of them, then?" She doesn't always understand so well. Rahne looks as if she wants to fiddle with something, anything, before she remembers her fingernails and freezes her hands. They will dry. She must keep still. Or shake them. Right? "It's more'n all that," she says quietly, for Kris' list of physical attributes. Despite herself, though, the small slip of a Scot winds up fiddling, anyway. She scoots a pebble around with an index finger carefully. "I dinna think boys much care fer bein' all... fuzzy," she says. And then, "Weapons? An' ach, nae. I dinna... I'm not even looking." Kris leans over to blow on Rahne's nails when she realizes the girl is having trouble not fidgeting. "You can tell me what you think it is then. Whatever the truth is or isn't, what's more important is what's making you feel not-pretty. When I started my transition, I had to do an... inventory of why I felt not-right. It... makes you uncomfortably aware of yourself." She caps her polish and tucks it back into a pocket,"Careful with your nails. Anyway, it's not as if you are fuzzy all the time. And at least you turn into something sleek and majestic. Could be worse. You might turn into a giant slug. How awful would that be?" She rolls her shoulders and tugs at her hair in her own fidgety manner,"Weapons. Yeah. I was a soldier once for some... very bad people. And it's over now. Anyway, noone said you needed to look. Just have to be ready when one is looking for YOU. Why don't we take you shopping, get you a makeover, some clothes that make you feel pretty? Forget boys, and concentrate on just making you feel good about yourself?" "No, I mean... what makes ya pretty. It's more'n jes' looks an' all o' that." Rahne looks at her nails, again, quietly wondering what on earth they'll do if she changes. Pink claws? Wouldn't that be funny. Or would it all break off? "It's not all majestic. I kin also... well. It's no' pretty, what I kin do, let's say." A troubling frown settles on her features, as she peeks at Kris, with the talk of weapons and being a soldier. "I'm sorry," she says. The solemn moment, however, gets broken by a half-embarrassed titter. "Ach, nae, I canna do that." Kris waves a hand dismissively,"I merely mean... there are... parts of all of us that are not pretty. I know what wolves do to their prey, if that's what you mean. I... understand. I have probably done as much with my own hands. And even if I don't understand... There are people out there who must and do value you. Personally, I would like to be able to call you friend!" Kris probably expects pink claws, herself. "No need to apologize. I do not say it for pity. Merely explanation. Anyway, if I can put on a dress and go out in public, you can come out and shop and get 'prettied up' for you and you alone. Maybe the gap between pretty and not pretty is learning to FEEL pretty." Suddenly KRIS is looking embarassed,"I am being pushy again. I think I do that sometimes." The wee Scot blinks a little, turning a shade shy again. "Ya would?" she asks, of Kris wanting to call her friend. And then, after another of those quiet moments, Rahne adds, "I think I'd like that." So, new friends? And why not. They most likely spend some more time talking, in the gardens where it's quiet, peaceful. Maybe Kris even wins out and convinces Rahne to get prettied up. ...we'll see. It'll take a lot of convincing.