ArchivedLogs:Of Obliviation and Orientation (Or, A Startling (Re)Introduction)

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Of Obliviation and Orientation (Or, A Startling (Re)Introduction)
Dramatis Personae

Gaétan, Harm, Kavalam

2017-09-05


"/Dude/."

Location

<XS> Gaétan, Harmony, and Kavalam's Dorm - FL2


The influx of new students this year has led to a bit of overcrowding at Xavier's, and it is starting to show in the dorm arrangements, many rooms like this one refitted for three students where they had once been built for only two. The standard two closets have been joined by a large armoire against one wall; three dressers have been moved in, three desks. A bunk bed on the left side, a lofted twin with its desk underneath it on the right.

It's kind of a gray morning outside, but Harmony was up early to beat the bathroom rush. Now they are sitting on the bottom bunk with a bowl of maple nut oatmeal in one hand, black hair still damp, frowning at the Xavier's new student orientation schedule. They're wearing a loosely woven short-sleeve tunic in a blue-green-purple ombre and wide-legged calf-length black pants, a polished oval of rainbow obsidian in a silver spiral cage hanging from a black cord around their neck.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Kind of a perfunctory thing. Gaétan doesn't actually wait for an answer before opening the door. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, a large guitar case in his hand, a wheeled black suitcase -- pretty compact -- that he totes behind himself. Jeans, a blue plaid shirt hanging open over a grey tee. His eyes flick to Harmony -- skate around the room as he exhales, slow. "So that one's yours." Not really a question, nodding to the lower bunk. He's carting his stuff over to rest it carefully against the frame of the single lofted bed. "You been here long?"

Harmony looks up at the knock and sets the pamphlet down on their knee to wave at Gaétan as he enters. "Oh, yes. Though, if you or our third is very afraid of heights, I'm willing to swap." They flash a close-lipped smile that nevertheless crinkles the corners of their eyes. "A couple of weeks? The place was kind of deserted. I'm Harm."

"Nah, I'm good." Gaétan is idly skirting the edges of the room. Peering at the closets. Out the window. "Weeks? And they still make you go through that?" He nods to the orientation packet with a wrinkle of nose. "Gaétan. Guess it's gonna get undeserted in a hurry. Is that rainbow obsidian?" His meandering has brought him back to the loft bed -- he skirts around his stuff, saunters over to the desk with only a faint pause, looking over at Harmony and gesturing at their necklace as he reaches to pull the desk chair out.

This meets with some resistance. The chair proves unwilling to readily budge. It does, however, /sigh/ with some degree of exasperation. Kavalam -- in neat black polo with white striping at collar and cuffs, crisp dark jeans, socked feet -- has an orientation guide of his own which he has been reading over from behind black half-framed spectacles. /Also/ has the chair -- looks like despite all previous indication he's /had/ the chair for some time, a mug of tea in his hand that he has now sloshed some of onto his lap with the jostling movement. He's staring down at the wet splotch with a frown. "This is my chair. You can take the other bunk, yes?"

Harmony nods, their fingers drumming idly on the pamphlet now. "It's mandatory for all new students. There's probably lots of stuff I don't know yet, but /two days/?" They shrug, and blink, and glance down at the pendant. "Oh! Yeah. Do you like stones? I have a bunch -- aaah!" Their words trail off into a startled, kind of high-pitched yelp when Kavalam appears. Or, at least, when they notice Kavalam. They've kind of scooted back to the other side of their bunk, cradling the bowl of oatmeal. "Oh -- oh, sorry I didn't -- eeep!" Their free hand clamps over their mouth, eyes wide and ticking between Gaétan and Kavalam.

"I dunno, my family's just kind of --" Only here Gaétan doesn't /help/ with the jostling, his sudden-jerk resulting in kind of /pushing/ the chair back away from him again. His eyes have gone wide, his posture briefly frozen right in place. "What." It's flat and heavy. "/Dude/." His hand lifts, fingers scrunching through his hair. "/Not/ cool."

The desk chair spins back toward the desk. Kavalam's tea sploshes further down onto his lap. He thunks back in the chair, head falling against its back and his eyes tipped up toward the ceiling. He lowers his mug down to his leg, resting it beside his (slightly soggy, now) orientation packet. With one foot he turns his chair slowly back around, lips in a thin line and brow scrunched as he studies the others.

Harmony very slowly relaxes from where they'd almost flattened themselves against the wall, settling back down onto their knees and sliding forward to the edge of the mattress again. "Um. Are you -- alright?" they ask hesitantly, glancing at the door, which has been closed since Gaétan came in. "How did you get here?"

Gaétan drops his hand to his side, eyes sliding away to the window. Briefly. Then back to Kavalam. "Apologies, didn't mean to ruin your tea, man." He heads back over to pick up his things -- move them to lean, now, against the ladder up to the bunk over Harmony's bed, eying it with a small twitch of muscle in his cheek. "You gonna be doing that a lot? I have a friend. Kind of tends to just show up, too."

"Just wet." Kavalam sounds less than gruntled, though. He gets up, setting his tea and papers aside and moving to the armoire. "Through the door. I moved in last night." Clearly, because the armoire is full already of neatly stashed clothing. "Are /you/ going to be doing that a lot?" He mimes wide eyes, exaggeratedly startled gaping-open-mouth.

"Last night?" Harmony says, frowning in concentration. "You must have come in while I was out at the lake. But..." They frown harder. "How come we didn't see you? Before now?" They set their bowl down carefully on the bed and brace their palms on their knees. "I don't know, but...it's kind of startling when you think there's no one there and then suddenly there is. Maybe you get used to it?" The last question seems to be directed toward Gaétan.

Gaétan shakes his head. "Spence is startling every time. I'll probably be doing that a lot," he offers Kavalam without much real trace of apology. Just a small shrug. "You met anyone cool here yet?" Now he's dragging his suitcase over to the empty closet. Not actually unpacking it. Just tucking it inside, together with his guitar case. "S'probably a lot of people around who might make you --" Now /his/ eyes are wide. Mouth-gape.

Kavalam shrugs, ducking behind his closet door. Mostly half /into/ the large armoire, really, nearly closing it behind himself. There's some shuffling, some shifting, from inside; when he emerges it is with a fresh pair of pants (khakis, now), his wet jeans slung over an arm (and subsequently slung over a railing of his bed.) "Everyone does not see me." A little tired. "You'll forget. Then it will be startling all over again, hmm?" He puffs out a short sigh as he flumps into his chair. The smile that darts across his face after this, though, is quick. "... at least," he does agree, musing, "I am surely not the /most/ startling person here."

"Your friend -- Spence -- he's also invisible?" Harmony is trying to sound matter-of-fact, and definitely failing. But they seem to relax somewhat when Kavalam ducks out of view. "Oh, I have! But only briefly, most of them went home after their tours and stuff. Mina's been here, though -- aaah!" They jump again when Kavalam steps into view again. "Wha -- where did you -- how did I forget you were..." They look to Gaétan kind of helplessly. "Did you...?"

"He's not invisible." Gaétan shakes his head, closing his closet door and leaning back against it. "Just jumps around a lot. Mina? Are they -- fff merde," He twitches again, eyes wider when Kavalam emerges. The tension in his shoulders, the slow scrub of his hand down his face probably answers Harmony's question. "We'll forget. /Right/." When his hand drops again, it's with a soft thud of palm against the door of the closet. "This is going to be an interesting year."