ArchivedLogs:Plain Fare

Plain Fare
Dramatis Personae Flicker, Kyinha, Lyric, Marinov	2016-03-22 "Should have a meat club or something."
Location <XS> Lake
Bright, bright, bright; the lake glitters wide and expansive here, stretching off into the distance. Sunlight, moonlight, starlight, it catches them all. Lapping at the rocky shore, its deep waters are frigid in winter and cool even in summer. A stone pier stretches out a ways into the water, wide and smooth, though often icy in winter. The water teems with life nevertheless, home to myriad species of fish that provide for ample fishing or just lazy watching on a slow summer day, for those who want to take a boat from the boathouse out to the center of the lake, or perhaps lounge on the pier and try their luck. The spring term has only been underway a couple days but already things are bustling -- not necessarily in the /good/ way, really. Lots of reporters over the weekend clamoring at the gates with the news of one teacher's arrest on terrorism charges, though at least they have since been dispersed. Schedule changes, given that that teacher is -- not likely coming back particularly soon! A large influx of new students, many of them prone to a skittish wary sort of distrust of this new environment. A whole lot of rumors flying around. So, life as usual at Xavier's, really. While things at the mansion might be hectic it's quiet out at the docks, right now, the sun setting over the water. There's one figure perched here down at the end of the pier. Dressed plain in khakis, black polo, X-jacket discarded on the ground behind him, bandaging on one arm, his mechanical arm painted up at the moment with a lot of (kind of freakish-looking) eyes made to look like they're sprouting all over out of the skin, Flicker is sitting cross-legged on the stone, a bowl of soup in his lap and his eyes kind of unfocused out over the water. Marinov is out for a jog (currently more like a run), same as every day around this time, wearing grey yoga pants with an attached skirt and a tight, white tank top. The teen often comments on having a lot of energy to burn, but given the frequency they fall asleep in classes, perhaps the energy is just being burned at the wrong times. Marinov slows down upon getting nearer to the shore, eyes still looking a bit wild, sniffing the air at the smell of something different, the scent of food! Their eyes still look a bit wild as they approach Flicker slowly with creeping steps. Lyric has been in the boathouse, tending the many (many!) tanks of fish currently being grown in there. Or maybe just hiding from the sudden!influx of New People, who knows. She is drifting kind of aimlessly out from the house now, though, certainly not dressed for exercise in a long crimson skirt, asymmetrically-cut black top, layered black and red scarves neatly folded over her head, strappy heeled sandals, a large black purse slung over her shoulder, makeup immaculate as ever. She /probably/ doesn't scent the food. Almost certainly not. But does catch sight of Flicker on the pier all the same, steps pausing -- hesitating -- eventually rerouting to click-click-click briskly straight down the stone pier towards him. Kyinha, looking as human as he has these last few weeks, is gliding toward the pier, his canoe slicing silent and steady through the water though he barely seems to paddle. His warm brown skin looks healthier in the sun than it has been, and his black hair glossier (it's gotten long enough to hang into his He wears a turquoise 3/4 length coat over a button-down (blouse?) black on one side and white on the other, the boundary between the colors a sharp diagonal line that crosses both flaps, and a long skirt in blue ombre -- almost black at the waist and nearly white at the ankles. He dips his paddle into the water, at once shedding most of the small boat's forward motion and turning it neatly to slot into the berth beside the canoe rack. Then lifts a hand to wave -- perhaps to Flicker, perhaps to everyone on land. Flicker largely remains staring outward, quiet and unmoving at Marinov's creeping approach. It's Lyric's far less skulking walk that actually draws his attention -- mostly in a sudden harder clench of muscles. Abruptly tightening, head tilting up to look at Lyric. His green eyes widen in some startlement at seeing /two/ people where he'd only heard one -- he's on his feet reflexively, the movement fast enough he seems to just go from standing to sitting without any actual /shift/ of motion in between. For a second the bowl is -- possibly falling. But then not, in his hand again quickly. There's a sudden flush to his cheeks a moment later, the red throwing the extensive scarring in his face into sharp relief. His mechanical arm curls stiffly across his midsection. "-- Oh. Hey." He shifts the bowl from his organic arm to his prosthetic one, fingers curling to sign 'Sorry' a little sheepishly. 'Didn't hear...' His head shakes. Aloud: "I wasn't expecting. Uh. Apologies." His head tips up, towards Kyinha. Marinov takes a few paces forward, silently, tailing lashing as they try and sight the food to determine whether it's worth taking. However, Flicker's strange movements snap them out of it real quick. "Ah!" cries the teen in surprise, wildness instantly fading from their eyes. Marinov brushes their arms and torso off lightly, trying to seem like they were occupied with this task the entirety of the time! "What kind of soup is-" Then Marinov notices that Lyric is there, and switches to their heavily accented ASL, knowing that their lips would be particularly difficult to read. Marinov signs dumbly, 'Hello. What is that soup? I can smell it.' Lyric startles back as well, eyes shooting open wider as Flicker jerks to his feet. /She's/ signing 'sorry' kind of in tandem with him, automatic -- maybe she hasn't actually /done/ anything wrong but oh well! She points to his arm, afterwards -- the bandaged flesh one, she's not really /looking/ at the mechanical one with its spotting of /eyes/ growing out of it (ew). 'You're hurt.' Her brows furrow in together. 'Just wanted to check if you're okay. Everything's been crazy again. Did you think --' She's looking at Flicker, at Kyinha, at Marinov -- at the nearly-not-quite-dropped soup bowl. 'Who's going to hurt /you/ /here/?' Kyinha seems to be the only one /not/ surprised here. He stands up in the canoe, barefoot, and deftly hops out onto the pier, dragging the vessel after him onto the boat ramp. He might have missed some of the signing in the process of doing all this. "How're all of you?" he is signing and speaking simultaneously, his accent no less curious than ever but his sign production growing gradually more fluid all the time. Then, lifting a bright green tote bag from the canoe, "I don't have soup but I have chocolate, if anyone would like some. Spicy." 'Harira.' Flicker fingerspells this slow and kind of stiff, watching the others with brows furrowed. 'I think there's more in the kitchen. Fridge. Maybe.' Always hard to tell how long any food will /last/ around the kitchens here but you never know. He shakes his head at Lyric's question. Blush deepening. "No, I --" Catches himself, sets the soup down on the ground to better sign. 'Just startled. Sorry. Kind of...' Hesitates, uncertain. Just shrugs, rather than finish this thought. 'Sup?' Offered in general to anyone who cares to answer. The offer of chocolate, though, draws a bright smile. Distinctly /grateful/. He reaches out a hand for this. Yespls. "I used to love chocolate, but it makes me sick now," says Marinov, disappointedly, while the tip of their tail flicks lightly from side to side. The teen picks up that Kyinha is signing while speaking, and does the same, aware that their ASL is still sub-par. "Actually, I don't have so much tolerance for spice anymore. My diet's become boring! But it all smells so good." Marinov gives a helpless shrug and adds, "But smell's almost like tasting it." Lyric's mouth twists to the side. She's still looking at the bandage on Flicker's arm, her expression a little skeptical at his headshake. 'Why aren't you in jail?' she asks next, bluntly. Her nose wrinkles up in sympathy at Marinov's disappointment. 'What kinds of things /can/ you still eat? There's so many tasty stuff you can do with herbs still maybe!' Kyinha unscrews the cap of his thermos and pours out a cup of rich, spicy cocoa, handing it to Flicker. The gaze he levels at Marinov is kindly, brows faintly crooked, but he waits until he sets the thermos down to start speaking again. "Ah, I did not know. Smell accounts for much of taste, it is true, but there's tea and such, up in the boathouse if you'd like a warm drink all the same." His signing is less ASL at this point and closer to signed English. "I was getting ready to go inside, though. Perhaps grab a bite to eat, then head to the Commons. Anything you need there I might pick up? Or order?" Flicker blinks, at Lyric's question. Mouth opening. Closing. Shoulders -- slumping. Just a little. 'Don't know,' he signs, finally. 'Don't know.' The drink he takes from the cocoa is slow, and deep. 'I'm heading back there. To the city. Soon. If you want a ride.' He looks down at his mostly-full bowl of soup, lips compressing. He knocks back the rest of the cocoa in a quick gulp, handing the cup back to Kyinha. 'Sorry. I should --' With a quick shake of his head he stoops. Picks up the soup, and vanishes with it in a rapid blur of motion, flitting off in a series of lightning-fast jumps down the pier and towards the mansion. Marinov blinks once slowly at Lyric's question, "I can eat meat, some grains... a little bit of vegetable matter, but too much and I'll throw up. Which is rough, 'cause I used to be a vegetarian, so all the recipes I know aren't useful anymore." They lean in a little bit to sniff at Kyinha's thermos full of cocoa but hops back as Flicker flicks away quickly, ears flicking while they try to follow the movement, or lack thereof. To Kyinha, Marinov headshakes and says, "Nah, don't worry about it..." This answer from Flicker only deepens Lyric's frown, her jaw setting uncomfortably. She glances to Kyinha as though the other X-Man might have a more satisfactory answer, looking only disgruntled when Flicker takes off. /Hfff/. Her nose wrinkles up with a quick huff of snort, hand lifting to toy with an end of one of her scarves. 'You know Shane? Holland? The other-Taylor's advisor? His diet I think it's very the same. Maybe he could have advice for tasty food-things.' She shrugs, a little uncertainly. 'He's been a shark a long long time anyway.' Kyinha stretches out a hand to Flicker, but ultimately just accepts the cup back with a nod. "Could use a ride, yes," he replies, "text me before you leave, yes?" To Marinov, a slight shake of his head, wavy black hair swaying. "Ah, no, no, you definitely shouldn't have this if you are sensitive to chocolate. /Much/ higher cocoa content than American hot chocolate." He tilts his head at Lyric, considering. "I suspect he has very unpleasant memories," he explains, brows gathering even tighter. "Maybe difficult to talk about. Mm, I think Nick Gleason, also, has similiar dietary needs?" He spells the name out painstakingly. "Anole's rooommate, covered with brown fur, pointy ears. Perhaps worth exchanging notes." He drags the canoe out of the water and inverts it onto an empty space on the canoe rack. "I should gather my things, then. Have a good night!" With that and a wave, he shoulders his tote and trudges, slow and steadily, back toward the mansion. "Oh, I mean, I've seen Shane before sometimes... I guess I never really thought to ask him about how to prepare meat. But I guess sharks and cat monsters probably... like meat about the same amount?" says and signs Marinov. "That's a good idea, yeah, I guess I haven't really been sociable lately. It's so much more calming being outside..." The teen waves at Kyinha as he starts off, "Ahh, yeah, I'll look Nick up too for that kinda thing... Should have a meat club or something. Actually, no, that's a fucking terrible idea." Marinov scrunches up their face a bit. "I should probably get going as well... You folks have a good night, yeah? I've got lots more jogging to do." Marinov starts jogging a bit in place to get re-warmed up. 'Yes, but what's going to /happen/ with...' Lyric doesn't finish this question, though. Shakes her head, her frown still remaining. She hitches her purse further up on her shoulder, nodding rather distractedly to Marinov. 'Sure, have fun.' The worry is rather clear still in her expression as she turns, click-click-clicking crisply back down the stone towards the school.