ArchivedLogs:Of Rules and the Rationales Behind Them (Or, Déjà Vu)

Of Rules and the Rationales Behind Them (Or, Déjà Vu)
Dramatis Personae Kavalam, Lael, Marinov, Nessie
In Absentia	2017-09-06 "Seem like some of them's on there just to be ornery."
Location <XS> Back Porch
The back patio is a restful place to sit and relax, in most weather. Ample seating comes in the form of umbrella'd deck chairs and a cushioned porch swing, and the neighboring gardens attract butterflies and hummingbirds to make the viewing pleasant. The hot tub is usually open for use, though in snowy weather the transition in and out is a shivery one! It's not really a /pleasant/ evening, dreary, cold, rainy. Indoors there's bright cheery warmth -- dinner happening, bright and warm and merry inside with a host of newly-arrived new students finally at school for orientation -- not as full, perhaps, as it will be tomorrow when /all/ the returning students come back but still busy and louder than it's been through summer break. But out here -- chill. Wet. Not far from the back door one new student is perched with a plate of food under the overhanging awning, rapidly bolting down a plate of macaroni and cheese and peas and baked chicken breasts. Nessie is dressed in a plain button down that was probably white at one time but has long since turned into a dingy yellowish shade, ill-fitting on her flat and lean-muscled torso. She is settled low on her many segmented legs, but even so the long spiked barb of her tail rises to a fairly impressive overhead height where it sways slowly behind her. The door from the great hall opens to expel a willowy teen walking with hunched shoulders and eyes downcast, carrying a heavily laden plate of his own. Lael is wearing a short-sleeve green-and-blue plaid button-down and faded blue jeans, both beginning getting just a little too tight on him. He doesn't seem to notice Nessie initially, but as he turns to take a seat on the swing bench he lets out a strangled cry of alarm, staggering back a couple of steps (though, somewhat miraculously, he does not spill his food). "Dear sweet Lord'a mercy!" His words come with a heavy Southern drawl and his hair is...kind of literally standing on end, vibrating faintly. Carrying a tray that just seems to be piled with various cooked but relatively unseasoned meats, Marinov carefully balances the tray on one hand while opening the door to the porch to walk out shortly after Lael. They are wearing a pair of russet coloured pants, a dark blue vest over a white dress shirt, and a lighter blue striped tie, all looking quite neatly fitted to their unusual proportions. Their fur has been returned to its natural, jungle cat coloration. Their ears fold back a moment at overhearing Lael's alarmed cry. "Uh... Hey," they say, giving Lael a scrutinous look. Their eyes then turn to Nessie to do the same, "Something going on here? Is it okay if I eat out here? Quieter in the summer, getting used to the... bustle again takes a bit, you know?" Nessie's hands clamp down hard on her plate, all three pairs of her black eyes widening. She hunches down a little further, weight lowering -- which mostly just makes her legs stand out in that much more prominent arachnoid-jointedness. Holding her plate tight and protective against her chest, she curls her tail slightly down. Flicks her largest pair of eyes from Lael to Marinov. "Um -- I'm just. Having a dinner? You can eat. It's kind of. Wet. But inside is, um. A lot." Hesitantly she picks her fork back up, spearing a piece of chicken and pushing it through some melted cheese sauce. "Your hair is..." Frown. "Upset." Lael turns when Marinov comes out onto the porch. He still looks quite startled, but no stumbling back or crying out this time, at least. His slitted pupils have opened up so far that they nearly swallow up his irises. It's Nessie's comment about his hair that finally seems to--well, not set him at /ease/, but jostle him into action, at least. "Oh gosh, m'awfully sorry 'bout that, I just..." He runs a hand over his head, flattening down the trembling locks. "That was /dreadful/ rude, and I am ever so sorry." Hesitantly, eyes darting to the window, to the brightness and bustle inside. "Y'all don't mind if I eat out there, too?" "People get upset if you say that here." Tucked up against the wall on the other side of the door, Kavalam has no plate of his own. Just a cup of cocoa, fingers wrapped around it. His eyes are kind of wide, though /he's/ staring off into the wet dark gardens -- decidedly not at any of the others nearby. It's hard to say how long he's been there, though the door certainly hasn't opened again since Marinov emerged. He has an accent of his own, too, distinctly foreign -- notably Indian subcontinental if anyone can pinpoint it that far, though his English comes easy and quick. "Does it get /much/ busier than this?" "Yeah, inside is really a lot," says Marinov, glancing over their shoulder a moment. "I find it's best to just ease into it..." They glance around to try and find the optimal chair, but then actually jump in surprise a bit when Kavalam seems to suddenly /appear/, the fur on their tail standing on end. They look back towards Lael and Nessie, then towards Kavalam, "Prosti, I didn't sm- see you. Um. It gets a bit busier. Pretty busy. But I get used to it eventually." They put down their tray and start to brush their tail down flatter. Just about to actually try /resuming/ her eating, Nessie instead hisses, tail swishing and her fork (as well as many of her peas and a whole chicken breast) dropping to the ground. For a moment she stares down at the fallen food in blank dismay before stooping to snatch it back up. "Didn't see you," she mumbles, only vaguely apologetic. "Oh, your tail's so /poofy/!" /This/, at least, she says with wider eyes -- a brighter delight. Though immediately after a duck of her head -- "'pologies, it's probably -- not a /happy/ poof. Um. You can eat. Here. Or anywhere. Probably? Are there places we're not allowed to eat?" Nervously directed to Marinov, /clearly/ the Most Knowledgeable here. Lael whirls around when Kavalam speaks, his hair rising up and spasming again, though he only backs away by one step. "U-upset? If you say what now?" He looks down at his food, chewing on his lower lip. Actually looks at the rainy garden outside as if distantly considering taking his supper out that way before very determinedly planting himself down at one end of the swing bench. "Ain't got much chance to ease into things, with all this orientin' they been doin' us. I come out feelin' more disoriented than I did when I got here." Marinov looks down at their tail for a moment when Nessie points out how poofy it is. "Huh," they keep stroking it thoughtfully for a few moments before sitting down, "That usually only happens if I'm, like, startled. Or mad. Or... honestly, lots of reasons. But I..." They look around with a bit of a confused expression. "Guess I just got excited over nothing." They shrug a shoulder then pick up one of the chicken cutlets on their plate. "I think you're not supposed to eat lots of places, but we sometimes bend the rules." To Lael, they add, "I've been here a couple years now, so if you want to know anything..." They just tap their chest lightly. "Oh --" Nessie's brows have furrowed slightly. Her eyes lift -- drop quickly. "A lot of people find me kind of startling?" she suggests timidly. She's a bit more delicate than before about eating, now, actually taking the time to cut her food! Chew it. "I think it's been a lot to take in. I'm feeling all /kinds/ of overwhelmed, too. Some of my friends graduated from here and they told me some things but it's still --" Shrug. She's eying Marinov kind of uncertainly now. "There's not -- a dress code or anything is there? Because you look so -- I mean, wow. I don't have clothes like that." Lael studies Marinov's tail, too, though with less perplexity and more dubiousness. He forces his eyes away as they start traveling up to the /rest/ of the feline teen's body. "Some kindsa hair just got a mind'a its own," he comments with a helpless shrug, finally starting in on his mac and cheese. "Thank you kindly, s'good to know folks up here ain't /too/ hung up on the rules. I was bit worried it'd be..." He shakes his head, his dreadlocks waving languidly around his face like seaweed now that they've relaxed, finally. "I just didn't know what to expect at a...fancy school like this, is all." "Oh. No, there's no dress code or anything, I just like to dress up, I guess. I design and make most of my own clothes as, like, a hobby," says Marinov, before looking again at Nessie appraisingly, though they focus mostly on her clothing. Hesitantly, they continue, "If... there's any sorta styles you're interested in, I could make you something custom. A Taylor Marinov original. If that'd be something you're interested in." Their eyes follow the wavey dreadlocks for a moment, seeming more alert and focused. "Yeah, I remember it having been pretty overwhelming at first. But... I dunno. Sometimes rules don't make any sense, so..." They shrug. Nessie is watching Lael's hair as she eats, though far less alert than Marinov; she's kind of lazily tracking the change in motion with an idle curiosity as she makes her way through her food. "I'm not really used to a ton of rules either. I just hope I don't screw it up too bad. I was never all that great at school to /begin/ with and this one is /so/ swank." Her eyes widen again, though, and she perks up -- rising higher on her segmented legs with a sudden excitement. "Oh! Oh, /you're/ Taylor Marinov!" Still from over by the door -- though Kavalam is on his feet, now! Intrigued, peering at the others more closely as he makes his way back into awareness taking a few steps closer to the group: "Are you a /celebrity/?" "Rules is rules, you take a step back and squint real hard and if they don't make no sense..." Lael flashes a small smile, then takes a bit of his chicken...and makes an expression of mild dismay. He's quickly distracted from his dissatisfaction about the state of his meat by Nessie's exclamation. "Are you some type'a--" He had started speaking almost at the exact same time as Kavalam, but breaks off mid-sentence and looks at the other boy. "Whoa there!" Eyes huge again, hair going straight and vibrating yet again. "Beg your pardon, just gave me a bit of a scare." His hair recovers more quickly this time, writhing around his face with small mincing motions as though embarrassed by his lapse. Marinov again seems startled at Kavalam's appearance, ears folding back, teeth flashing and muscles tensing for just a moment before they realize it's just another student. "Prosti, I didn't sm- see you. Um. No, I don't think I count as a celebrity or anything- there actually is someone here this year who's a proper celebrity- but yeah, I'm Taylor Marinov, for sure. You can call me Taylor, Marinov or Tay, though. Not a big fan of 'Mari' though." Nessie's eyes widen agan, and she skitters slightly back, away from the others and toward the damper stone where the awning doesn't quite protect from the rain anymore. "Oh! Apologies, you -- um. Were you --" She frowns toward Kavalam -- frowns toward the door. Shaking her head, she pokes another piece of chicken slowly into her mouth. Her brows furrow -- deep. "I think my roommate is a /proper/ celebrity." Her cheeks slowly darken, a deeper richer shade of brown. "I didn't mean to make a fuss, I just -- I went to your show thing and it was -- really great, and my friend Taylor -- he's full of tentacles? He says you're great too and. But yeah I liked the art. Thing." Swallowing, scraping together the rest of their mac and peas into one pile that they can shovel up at once. "I'm Nessie. By the way. I don't think I have a cohesive rule-breaking /philosophy/ yet," this musing comes with a small smile darted at Lael, "but maybe that's just because nobody's tried /ruling/ at me much lately." Lael looks back toward Marinov. "But then, who's the /proper/ celebrity?" His eyes slide over to Nessie, curious. His hair has relaxed to its slow wriggling again, as if he had never been startled (multiple times) by Kavalam's abrupt appearance. "What sorta art thing was this? Did you have a uh...fashion show?" His face grows more animated, and his hair as well. "Well, I reckon we're all 'bout to have plenty'a inspiration to philosophize over rule-breakin' soon enough!" Marinov's ears perk up and redden a little bit at the positive things that Nessie says, "Oh! Yeah, I'm glad that you liked the art thing. It was a lot of work to get everything together, but it was super worth it. And yeah, I know Taylor, he's super cool." They scratch their cheek lightly and shake their head to Lael, "The show was called, um, Something Different. I'm not great with names, but... it was just a place for obvious mutants to showcase their art. I didn't actually have an entry myself, I was too busy. But Shane got me a chance to have my designs in a real fashion show, which was... super fucking cool of him." They nod a couple of times enthusiastically and then snap almost an entire cutlet into their mouth, "Aliffn-" They hold up a finger and then gesture to their face, falling quiet to chew instead of answering anything else. "Allison? Allison Blaire," Nessie volunteers with a small clicking-shifting of feet. "She's -- she sings." She stuffs her mouth with the rest of her food, bolting it down quickly. "You've had a /real/ for-real fashion show? That's so cool. With models and /everything/?" Side-eying Lael: "Have you actually read the handbook yet? It's big. It's probably -- got a /lot/ of rules." Lael's hair squirms faster as Marinov speaks. "Well, I'm sure sorry t've missed it, then." He lifts his plate and sweeps the last of his mac and cheese into his mouth, and so there's a delay before he adds, "I'm not too familiar with singers up this way. What kinda music she sing?" His smile spreads wide and just slightly mischievous. "The handbook? I sure have, and I can tell you right now: half those rules? There ain't no way to enforce them that I can see. Seem like some of them's on there just to be ornery. But we'll see!" "It's school." Kavalam's cocoa is empty, now. He's skirted around to the other side of the group -- keeping some small distance between himself and Nessie, though, as he examines them from the other side. Examines the hot tub. Traces the toe of his sneaker slowly through a puddle. "Rules make them feel like they are having some control, hm? I do not know any school that makes all the rules correctly obeyed. In a school like /this/ one how much more impossible will it be?" Marinov swallows. "Models and runways and everything," they say, nodding a few times enthusiastically. "Next year at Something Different, I'm gonna definitely do a fashion show of my own, or at least try. I want mutant models, of course, I think that my custom work is always my best stuff. It's sorta more interesting, too." To Lael, "And Allison sings like... I dunno, poppy stuff? I dunno if you've heard that song, Dazzler?" They start to hum it, before once again displaying their teeth and growling slightly at being startled, but again they calm pretty quickly: "Prosti, I didn't sm- see you there." A look of confusion passes over their expression, and they scratch the side of their head lightly. "Yeah, I don't even know all the rules they've got here. I don't remember any of the orientation book at all. I think they're just covering their asses." "Oh -- oh that's /so/ great, I know so many people who'd kill for some nice things that actually /fit/ them and I bet if it was fashiony on /top/ that's just -- oh!" Skitterskitter. Nessie scoots a little further back -- thankfully away from the rain this time! -- tail flicking sharp and rapid. "Yikes have you been out in the --" But she's frowning as she eyes Kavalam's dry clothes, looks past him into the rain, fidgets distinctly uncomfortably. "So you're saying we'll do fine if we skip reading the handbook, then? That's good to know because I'm already up to my /eyeballs/ in too much stuff I gotta remember." Lael cants his head, his hair almost going still as he listen. "Nope, 'fraid I don't recognize it. But if she's a good singer I'm sure I'll hear sooner or later, 'round campus." He nearly chokes on a mouthful of peas when Kavalam speaks this time (or, just as likely, when Nessie suddenly skitters). He manages valiantly to stifle his coughing. "Hey there, fella...sorry, I didn't notice you until just now." He considers this, though. "M'sure there's plenty /teachers/ with special gifts n' all, too. But there's /way/ more of us." His smile sharpens to a grin. "Readin' the handbook's great for inspiration, honestly, but we don't /all/ gotta read it." His tone finally warms as he sets his fork down on his nearly emptied plate. "Division of labor's what /that/ is."