ArchivedLogs:Not Alone

Not Alone
Dramatis Personae Sebastian, Shelby	2013-02-26 '
Location <XS> Art Room - FL2
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. Sebastian isn't skipping class. What a strange idea. It's morning, and /would/ be time for an assembly except there isn't one scheduled today, so the students have break for the next half an hour. Sebastian's taken this time to slip into the art room, where he's perched on a stool at the counter. There's a large tool next to him, filled with bones rather than any sort of tools. He has a laptop open nearby, photographs on its screen of a farm somewhere. Large garden. Big picturesque white farmhouse with a large wraparound porch. A barn somewhere behind. A large orchard stretching off to one side, rows of cornstalks to another. The photograph in the foreground is just the house, which Sebastian studies carefully, in between working, slow and careful, on what is clearly a reconstruction of the farmhouse in slender white bones. It seems to be a frustrating task, at the moment. The farmhouse is not built of bones. It is proving difficult to find bones the right size and shape for the detailing on the edge of the roof. He is carving bones down carefully to make the designs, but -- "/Tsss/," he hisses, through his teeth, as he shaves another one down too far and it snaps. He exhales slowly, inhales slowly, and picks up another to try again. It remains to be seen whether the school will regret Shelby not beginning classes until next trimester. Thus far, she has been admirably well-behaved. On the other hand, she has not been shy about poking her nose in place where it may not belong. Certainly she is expecting this sort of response when she shoulders her way into the art room, arms filled with a good stack of sketchbooks, boxes of charcoal and colored pencils sticking out of the rear pockets of her jeans. She is here for the arts, but that plan quickly changes to include a shark. "B, hey!" Rare consideration is shown when she deposits her own supplies far enough away on the table that jostling the structure he's building isn't a risk. Then Shelby sidles closer, eyes flicking between teen and barn. "Is it being a bitch?" "It's sure not being easy," Sebastian grumbles to the slim bone in his hand, thin and delicate and probably once part of a fish. His patience might be thin at the moment, for this task; his hands are steady enough, careful with the work, but his eyes are narrowed, gills flicking restlessly in between each /actual/ breath he takes. He has a smile when he looks up, though, quick and warm. "Maybe the fish are getting their revenge. I can't imagine they're all that happy with me really. What're you working on?" He glances over towards the supplies she's brought with her, curious. "Too bad you can't smack it around some. Works with me," Shelby comments. That was a joke, for real. She's grinning to prove it. But she's also keeping a rather close eye on the other teen's eyes--showing somewhat more attention than is typical of her, considering. "I was just gonna work up s'more tattoos, y'know? I'm bored with the ones I've been using lately. You okay, Bastian?" It takes her a moment before she thinks to add clarification to that question: "I mean. I talked to Shane, he told me about your dad and Hive and stuff." "Oh, cool, what are you gonna have now? -- I wonder if your tattoos would stay, on me," Sebastian wonders thoughtfully. Hopefully, even. "I can't get real ones they just heal out within a couple weeks." Which makes him wrinkle his nose, a little miffed by this crippling disability. "You and Pa should have, like, an art swap. Of ink. You draw something awesome to put on him and he draws something awesome to put on you." The last question draws his brows together, a little puzzled. "My dad and Hive?" he repeats, uncomprehending, and then, still kind of uncertain, "I /know/ what everyone says but Hive's not sleeping with my pa. /Or/ Flicker. /Or/ Ryan. /Or/ Jim." "Chinese horses, for awhile. I kinda like how badass they are," Shelby says, leaning away to snare one of the sketchbooks and drag it in closer. She hooks a stool as well and sits beside Sebastian as she flips through pages. There are many sketches, several scribbles and some outright messes. It's nice to have something to focus on that /isn't/ him, as she goes on to say, "I meant, like. Going back into those places. Where they got you out. Shane...he's kind of a mess about it, y'know? So I thought I'd see how you were doing 'n stuff." Her eyes flick in his direction, then flee back to the paper, which is now displaying SUPER colorful Chinese unicorns. Sebastian looks over, peeking at the pages Shelby flips through. Probably a good thing he is not focused on his slim bone because the clarification makes him tense up, abrupt, and his lack of attention to the bone he's been working on means it slips off his hand and back to the table as his fingers clench, rather than just getting snapped in half. "Oh -- oh. That -- that." He looks away from the sketchbook sharply, back at his partially-finished structure. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, his gills fluttering fast before he remembers to breathe. "I -- I mean, it's -- it's good, right?" he says more quietly, fixing his attention on the side wall of the farmhouse. "There's lots of people still -- they might die if nobody helps. Some of our friends are still missing. They're -- they're doing a good thing." Shelby mumbles something that could be an apology, or just her making noises because she's feeling a little awkward. Her hand creeps over to retrieve the fallen bone, offering it to him with a sheepish look at his profile. "I guess there's not really any /good/ way to bring that sort've shit up. I'm sorry, B. It's...I don't even know. But." A deep breath is taken and she tosses her head, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I had this idea. See, I'm kinda helping Ivan hook up with Rasa, gonna play him some music while he has dinner with her or whatever. Shane figures we should set the same sort've thing up for your dad. Give him a nice night, you know?" Sebastian reaches for the bone, hand resting against hers for a moment before he remembers to take it from her. "It's intense. We -- went with them, once --" He shakes his head abruptly at this thought, staring at the bone in his hand. One claw extends to scratch at it, slowly. It's a halfhearted kind of carving. "Oh? Ivan and Rasa are -- that'll be nice," he says, with genuine warmth, glancing sideways at Shelby. "Shane -- for Pa?" His brow furrows, tone quizzical. "That -- it'd be /good/, he's always so stressed. But who -- when -- how --" "Oh.../oh/. Shit, he didn't say anything about you guys /going/. You're not going this time, are you?" Shelby forgets posturing in favor of displaying genuine concern, genuine worry. It does not sit easily on her face and leads her to reach out to interrupt halfhearted scratching in order to take his hand. Fingers will be laced together, a tug made to pull his attention away from arts. "Yeah, yeah, it'll be nice, I was hoping maybe you could bring your guitar along, so there'd be three of us playing. And for your dad, with some dude Shane said he's dated or something. But...you're not /going/ this time, are you?" "No -- no, not -- since, because, Spence, someone's gotta be around to look after him if --" Sebastian keeps staring at the bone he holds, but then sets it down to turn, slightly, on his stool, to face Shelby. Webbed fingers only interlace so far but he squeezes gently at Shelby's hand. "Oh -- oh. I could bring -- I could play. That'd be nice for them." His eyes are wide, dropping to settle on their joined hands. "He went on a date. It was his first one since my -- our -- his last partner left. He was real happy after." This, at least, draws a small smile from him. It fades again soon. "Last time we went a lot of people died." His hand squeezes Shelby's a little tighter. Shelby is unconcerned with the depth of their laced fingers, just that she's able to return each squeeze with one of her own. Bony her hands may be, but between art and music, she's got a hell of a grip. "So for the next couple of weeks," she says, in her best I'm being proactive tone of voice, "we make sure he's having the /best/ time. This weekend, we're gonna hit the dollar store and get lights, candles...maybe some of those cheap sheets that we can paint up, for wind-breaks. We can figure out a menu too." Her eyes flick back and forth as they study Bastian's face. The concern lingers, and uncertainty as well--directed more at how he might react to what she says next. "I'm glad you're not going, B. That'd be...shit, I dunno. You haven't even really had /anything/, not like most people. You should get more time. Before." Sebastian nods, firmly, in agreement with the first half of this. "Yeah -- yeah. Ryan's vegan, too, maybe he knows good -- something. For dates. To eat. We should get a /lot/ of lights. He'll like that." He falls quiet again, listening to Shelby with a slow flap of his gills. One set of eyelids blinks quickly across bright black eyes. "I -- I've had --" he starts uncertainly, and then draws in a slightly ragged breath. "/He/ hasn't either," he says instead, less uncertain, more fierce. "He's not much older than we are. None of them are. And they've /all/ been through so much /shit/ and it just /keeps coming/ and it's not --" His mouth clamps shut abruptly, a flush of colour rising up his neck into his cheeks. "M'sorry," he says, lower. "It's just not -- not --" "Fair, I know." It's easy enough for Shelby to finish that sentiment. She wraps her hands around his and rests them on her knee, leaning towards him. Her gaze drops though, to focus on the borders between pale and freckled, and clean blue. "It's bullshit. All of it's bullshit, that people have to do stuff like this. Like that. If it goes bad though, it's..." She worries her lower lip between her teeth. What was offered up to Shane to "comfort" doesn't seem as appropriate here. The girl struggles with it before blurting out, "You don't just stop, when you lose your dad. I mean, it's not...the greatest. But /if/ it happens and maybe it won't, if it happens you're not gonna be alone, Bastian." Sebastian looks up at Shelby at this, watching her with a careful attentiveness. His thumb brushes, slow, against her knuckles, fingers squeezing once briefly tighter against hers. "Yeah," he says, quiet, "That's -- it's -- yeah." He leans forward, too, forehead coming to rest gently against hers. "When did you -- how long have you --" He hesitates, a moment. "Does it get easier?" "Kinda. Not really. Both." Shelby lets her eyes close as their foreheads come together. Hers is tilted just enough that even if her eyes were open, there would be no soulful gazing possible--she'd be looking off at a slight angle--but a firm grip is kept on his hands. "I mean, it was different for me. My dad didn't exactly take off to do hero stuff, y'know? I dunno where he went, or if he's...like, really gone or what. But after awhile, you stop thinking about it every day. You don't really...keep an eye out as much, thinking maybe you saw him. So it kinda gets better. And you got Spence, and Shane. Ryan. Me, I guess." Sebastian is mostly just looking downwards, not so much at their hands anymore and now just vaguely at their knees, perhaps. A stool. The floor. "If Ryan doesn't get himself killed, too," he tells the floor wryly. He swallows, his nod slight and carefully slow. A scratchy movement, probably, but at least not quick enough to abrade. "Did you have people? Before? I mean, it seems like you moved around -- a bit. But here we --" His blush deepens slightly. "I mean here at least you're not alone." "Jesus, is it /all/ of them? That's...that's fucking /irresponsible/." Brief ire leads Shelby to begin to sit back but she corrects herself, willing stiffness to semi-casual relaxation and setting her brow against his again. Hers is rumpled, deeply, but her eyes are open to leave her frowning down at their knees. "I don't really...enh. I dunno. Stepdad tossed me out when I was thirteen, it's just been me since then. Not all the time but no one really sticks around, y'know? You get used to it after awhile. Still...they should leave /one/ of the grownups behind." "Oh gosh," Sebastian says with a brief cringe, "oh, shoot, Ryan doesn't usually, um, tell people, it'd kinda be murder on his -- career if --" He sounds pretty guilty about this slip, his posture tensing. "I mean, it's not /all/ of them, Dusk and Ian are staying back this time, and Clarice, and Horus, but it's Pa and Flicker and Hive and Ryan and -- you probably haven't met the others." He is still looking slightly guilty, slightly fidgety, but. "That's -- but it's not just you now," he says quietly. "I mean, I'm not going anywhere." Shelby, appeased by hearing that /some/ people of legal age will be remaining behind, allows herself to slump properly again. Her spine adopts a less anxious bend and her neck loosens enough that she can tilt back--just a little--to keep Bastian's face in her sights. "I'm not gonna say anything, B," she points out quietly. "And...yeah. You're here now and that's pretty awesome. You're kind've like the nicest guy I ever went out with. Just...I guess it's gonna be pretty crazy for awhile, so if you need anything or want me to back off or whatever, just say, okay?" "Oh, right. I -- he's just -- right," Sebastian says, relaxing slightly. And then now that the cat is out of the proverbial bag /anyway/ he adds with a quick crooked smile: "You should get him to show you what he does sometime. You've never heard music like how he does it." But the smile doesn't last long as he returns to the thoughts at hand. "Thanks," he says, quiet and with a slight blush. "I probably just need to not think about it. Every time I do I just keep seeing --" His jaw tightens. "At least exams are coming up," he adds, almost /cheerfully/. "That's distracting!" "Yeah. He kind've saved me from a lynch mob with it." Shelby's lips twitch, her smile not /quite/ amused. "And exams...seriously, that's the best distraction you can come up with? Jesus, B. Look, we got these date nights to set up for Ivan'n'Rasa, and your dad and his dude. But then we should do something too, huh? Something quiet," she is quick to add to the tail end of that. "I know you're like a super genius and stuff but there's /other/ things to do that're way more fun than studying. I know Shane's told you that before and I /know/ he's your brother and all so it's easy to blow him off but he's right." "Why were people lynching you?" Sebastian's eyes widen here but a moment later his head is bowing, nose crinkling sheepishly. "I like studying," he says, a little awkward, "I mean it just makes /sense/, you know, when most of the world -- doesn't really. Um, oh, I mean, not that --" he's hastily amending, "not that I don't want to -- to go -- I mean we /should/. Totally. Do -- do a thing. Together. That's not studying. I'd like that, too." "The show at Montagues. I didn't tell you how it went, did I?" Not that Shelby seems inclined to do so now, beyond mentioning, "Did your dad tell you I dedicated a song to you? I'll have to play it for you some time." And then, as the fumbling amendments begin, she sits back on her stool to regard him with a grin--/this/ is sooo much easier to cope with than the prospect of parents absent for reasons of death or whatever. "Maybe this weekend, after we hit the dollar store? Could be fun. A /distraction/, depending on what we wanna do." "No," Sebastian answers, and then perhaps realizing this is vague: "I mean, no, you didn't say how it -- but he told me," he admits, flushing deeper. "About the song." His smile here is shy, but warm. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be cool." For a moment his smile flashes brighter, teeth gleaming but only for a second before he closes his lips with reflexive self-consciousness. "You're the first person who's ever asked /me/ on a date," he says, bright and kind of amused. "Yeah, well...you're the first person who's liked me who /hasn't/ asked, or at least copped a feel," is Shelby's retort. She reaches out again, this time to aim a very careful poke at the dip between his lower lip and his chin. It is a reproving gesture, though she's slapped on a smile to match his bright, and his amused. "Not that I'm great at dating. The stuff you hear about people doing sounds kinda boring. But I figured if I waited, you'd maybe never ask for another one." "Copped a feel?" Sebastian looks a little disgruntled by this, nose wrinkling up again. "I mean, I'd think that's /definitely/ the kind of thing you /should/ ask before doing." He ducks his head slightly at the poke, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "I don't actually know what most people do," he admits. "My Pa went out with Tag to, uh, paint graffiti on walls in the middle of the night. I guess that's not like, normal people dating. But I guess that's why we're all freaks." "Like I said, I'm not ay good at this dating stuff. If /you/ wanted to, you could," Shelby says with a grin intended to inspire blushing. His last remark causes that grin to fade, however--and sparks recognition. Her expression shutters, eyebrows drawing together. "B..." She pauses for a beat. "Okay, this is totally stupid but I'm gonna say it anyway and then I'm gonna take off 'cause I /think/ Rasa's been raiding my closet and I wanna catch her but...I don't think you're freakish or...or whatever. I think you're cute. So, yeah," she says as she hops up from her chair. "Lemme know if you get any ideas for this weekend, and I'll think about it too. Maybe not graffiti though." "If I wanted to -- ohh." This /does/ draw the intended blush, deep and furious as Sebastian scrubs at a cheek. "Oh I -- I mean, I -- I'd still ask first," he mumbles awkwardly. He looks up after this, brows raising slightly. "You -- oh." This makes his blush spread. "Even with -- oh." There's a moment when he just sits, a little confused and a little awkward, but then, slowly, a smile spreads across his face. Tentative at first, but then warming. He slips off his stool, leaning in to peck Shelby -- on the lips, even! But light. Quick. And then he takes his stool again to carefully start putting his things away, because the bell is going to ring before too long. Bastian wins that round--Shelby might have expected causing the blush but she had /not/ anticipated he'd be driven to kiss her. In public! She ends up blinkblinking at him before bursting into rare and delighted laughter. "So /ask/," she urges the boy before snatching up her sketchbooks and making for the door.