ArchivedLogs:On the Nose

On the Nose
Dramatis Personae Nick, Paras
In Absentia	2015-10-10 "It is settled, then. We'll just have to think of a name."
Location <XS> Conservatory
Tall panes of glass keep this large indoor garden warm year round. Tended to by the school's groundskeeper, the conservatory is lush with plant life, a carefully cultivated paradise within Xavier's walls. The room serves as a classroom as well; in the center of the garden a ring of seats forms a small circle, a favorite locale for some teachers to hold court. It's a chilly evening outside, but in here it's pleasant and mild. The lights have turned off for the day save for the small, shielded stake-lights illuminating the winding paths. Nick has just entered, from the garden and not the mansion proper. Wearing a black Of Monsters and Men t-shirt (dominated by overlapping colorful lineart graphics of various nameless beasts) and jean shorts, he's dressed rather lightly for the weather. Though, given that is he covered all over in a thick coat of brown hair, it is probably not surprising that he should tolerate the cold so well. He pads through the Conservatory, sniffing at the night-blooming flowers and stopping occasionally to read their plaques. As Nick enters from the garden, another figure is entering from the mansion. Drifting cautiously through the paths from the other direction, wending her way along slowly. More bundled than the other, Paras is dressed in jeans, sneakers, a long black and blue khurta peeking out from underneath a baggy Xavier's sweatshirt, blue and bronze wristwarmers on her hands -- which are currently tucked into the crooks of her arms, wrapped around her broad flat chest. She pauses as she rounds a bend and spies Nick, rocking to a halt and her maroon eyes widening. Briefly. Tentatively, a smile touches her lips. "A little -- on the nose, no?" Though her English is crisp and precise, her Maharashtran roots show through heavily in her accent. One of Nick's ears swivels toward Paras before she even speaks, and when she does his head turns to her. "Hey." He cocks his head to one side, glancing at the plant beside which he had stopped. Sniffs at it again. "It's not *very* strong-smelling." He sounds a touch uncertain. "I know that's a figure of speech, but...oh, do you mean because it's a moonflower and I'm..." One of his hands sweeps down his body. "...kind of wolfy?" "Hm? Oh -- oh is that what those are?" Paras takes a few steps closer, leaning down to look at the flower from a short distance away. "I didn't mean the flowers. I meant --" She tugs at her sweatshirt, then gestures to Nick's tee. "That could be like some kind of -- school slogan, hm?" "Ohhh!" Nick slaps one sharp-clawed hand over his muzzle and looks down at his shirt. "It *is* kind of...yeah, on the nose. Does the school *have* a motto?" He laughs, exposing a mouthful of sharp white teeth. "Of Monsters and Men is a band. Kinda indie...folk...pop..." He scratches his head. "Anyway they're pretty cool. I'm Nick." "Mutatis mutandis." Paras recites this with a small compression of her lips. "/Also/ a little --" She puffs out a small breath, but then gives Nick a smile. "Oh! Oh, a /band/ -- I didn't know. I thought just -- right. I have not heard those -- they're not mutants, are they?" Her tone is amused -- though maybe juuust a little bit hopeful. She steps forward, offering a large hand out. "Paras. I think I got lost on the way to the kitchens but -- maybe a good sort? Of lost? This room is quite lovely." "Mutatis mutan..." Nick stumbles over the unfamiliar syllables, the shape of his rather canine jaws working against him. "Kind of a tongue-twister. What does it mean? Something about change, right?" He glances at his shirt again, one ear up and the other pressed down. "You know, I have no idea. But they're Icelandic, so you think they'd be open about it." He looks down at Paras's hand and clasps it, his own also large, hairless on the palm-side. "I originally just checked them out because they had an album called 'My Head is an Animal.'" His grin is wide and crooked, his amber irises contracted to thin rings around large black pupils in the dimness. Paras's brows pull in together. "It means something like -- 'with the necessary changes having been made'?" Her shoulders lift somewhat helplessly. "I do not really think it is the best of motto. Maybe someone just thought it was clever because it kind of says mutant in it?" She grasps Nick's hand, pumping it firmly. "My Head -- oh. Oh --" Despite pressing her lips tight together, a laugh escapes her anyway, rough and snorted out through her nose. "We should make a cover band. Only sing all the most mutanty songs humans have ever written." "The necessary changes?" Nick raises his furry eyebrow ridges, releasing Paras's hand. "I don't think those have happened yet. But a mutant cover band would be a good start! Though..." He wrinkles his nose. "...I never did learn an instrument. Could sing?" He does not sound *particularly* confident on this point, but then his jaw drops open in sudden excitement. "Why do covers when we could write our *own* songs?" "Maybe they mean in us? Not the world," Paras suggests uncertainly. "/We're/ pretty changed. I think." She drops her hand back, curling her arms around her chest again. "I play piano..." Her eyes light after this. She gives a small bounce -- then a bigger one -- then settles down onto her heels. "Oh! Oh." Then a long moment of quiet, contemplating. "Do you think we could? I don't know much about /writing/ music." “I guess so?” Nick looks down at back of his hand, flexes it and watches the tendons moving intricately beneath the short but still dense fur there. “Just, I’ve *always* looked pretty much like this, so it’s weird to think of it as ‘change.’” He’s smiling again, though. “I don’t know the first thing about writing music, but hey, we’re here to learn stuff, right? I met this kid yesterday, name of Lyric, said she makes music.” Now *he’s* bouncing up and down, the vaguely canine structure of his legs giving the motion some extra *bounce*. “Yeah, we totally could.” "Me too. But a change from --" Paras shrugs, arms flinging out wide to indicate -- something. Bigger. "Are there classes in learning to write music here?" This makes her eyes widen in something like excitement before she leans in to confide: "I have never -- been to school. What /do/ they teach?" Her smile returns, small and cautious. "I'd like that, I think. It sounds more fun than playing alone." “You bet! There’s a bunch of classes on music theory and composition. Waaay more arts in general than any of the schools I ever gone to, which is actually a lot.” Nick does not even blink at the revelation that Paras is new to Schooling and not just This School. “I dunno if what you were doing instead of school was terrible or not, but you probably weren’t missing much. It’s mostly sitting around listening to boring speeches and doing really boring work while people either pick on you or ignore you. My dad thinks it’ll be different here, and maybe it will…” His grin is wide and toothy again. “...if we start a band!” "I was learning. Just never in -- something like this place, no? I think at home the people they would have --" Paras shakes her head, covering her lips again to stifle another laugh. "Well. I don't think there /is/ something like this place, back home. It seems like a -- gift." Now /she/ leans down, drawing in a breath of the moonflower. "It is settled, then. We'll just have to think of a name." “I guess none of my schools were anything like this, either,” Nick allows, raising his muzzle to look up at the night outside the glass walls of the Conservatory. “I’ve been here all of two days, so I’m trying to keep an open mind.” He nods, hard to say whether in agreement with the other teen or in resolution about an open mind...or about the band. “Let’s see if we can find a couple other kids interested to join, get together this week and have a namestorm.”