ArchivedLogs:Queen of Hearts

Queen of Hearts
Dramatis Personae Alison, Jackson, Anton
In Absentia	2014-04-16 Part of Perfectus TP.
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. The day is ended. The last class of the day has been dismissed, and now Xavier's finds itself in the muted-noisy period before the evening meal. Those students who are diligent are in their rooms or the library, getting their homework done or attending one of the various after-school groups. Others are simply enjoying this free time, finding more relaxing pursuits -- like the pick-up game of football that's visible through the glass walls of the conservatory. The thick glass mutes the sound, but the action is very visible as the students tumble around on the lawn beyond. Anton looks very much like he would like to be outside with those kids. Instead, he is trapped by Alison, a textbook on his knees and a notebook at his side with copious mathematic notes that are barely legible. He's dressed in jeans and a white tee that reads T-SHIRT across the chest, his grey Converse sneakers thumping boredly against the legs of the bench. Alison is trying her best to be a teacher, even with a problem student like Anton. She's even dressed in something teacher-like, in a pair of black slacks and a short-sleeved button-down blouse in blue silk. She's looking at the textbook in Anton's lap, frowning mightily at it. "You've got to learn this," she says, tapping a manicured fingernail against the page. "It's going to make the difference in you graduating on time or not." Anton groans. "When am I /ever/ going to use Trig, as a camera man?" Alison looks stumped for a moment, and shrugs. "I guess you won't. But you still have to learn it." "Great," Anton mumbles, bending over the book again. "So it's just pointless /torture/, then." Alison smiles widely, and nods. "Welcome to being a grown-up." The door to the conservatory is opening -- not from the inside but from the outside, briefly letting a gust of chiller air in from the cool evening beyond. There's a telltale drag to Jackson's step, a slump to his shoulders, a stiffness to his posture, but outwardly he /looks/ bright. Cheerful smile, cheerful colours, cheerful makeup; he's in blue and silver, tall knee-high silver boots over sky-blue skinny jeans, a loosely knit sweater atop a layered diamond-pattered black-and-blue t-shirt over long tight silvery base layer, glittery nails, glittery makeup. Black ten-gallon hat on his bald head, silver braided cord looped around it. Blue-and-silver bandanna wound around his neck. A black wrist-brace on his right wrist. "Oh!" Jax's voice is bright-cheerful, too, as he closes the door behind himself. "Afternoon, y'all." He leans back against the door, offering the others a warm smile. "'pologies, didn't mean t'interrupt -- ah, math." He gives Anton a crooked smile. "Prob'ly were havin' bundles'a fun, I know." The door opening is yet another welcome distraction to a harried teenager, and Anton's attention shifts there immediately. Which doesn't really please Alison as she reaches up to turn his head back to his studies. She has a bright smile for Jax immediately after, and she waggles her fingers in his direction. "Hi, Jax! I love that outfit." She stands then, to circle the younger man, eyeing him appreciatively. "I might be inspired by that." Anton groans at this, wrinkling his nose without commenting further. Alison gives him a warning look before turning back to Jax. "He's just being difficult," she says apologetically. "You weren't interrupting us. Anton is always like this with his math homework." "I love English, though," Anton offers, without looking up. "Creative writing /rocks/." Jax's smile brightens, though a deep blush floods through his cheeks as he is circled. "Oh, gosh, I feel like I should be twirlin' or somethin' -- " Which he proceeds to /do/, albeit a little bit more slowly than he otherwise might. "How're /you/ feelin', honey-honey? Holdin' up aright, you kinda put on a good --" His fingers flutter-flash in the air. Perhaps to demonstrate his commitment to /sparklemotion/. He drops his hand back to his side, rocking slowly up onto his toes. "Always did enjoy creative writin'," he agrees with Anton, "though oh gosh didn't nobody probably never want t'read none'a my stories, they was drivel. Did have fun writin' 'em, though." "Oh, gosh, you don't have to -- " Alison breaks off as Jackson begins to twirl, although she stays close in case he should topple himself. She can't resist applauding lightly, moving in to snug up close to the younger man. "My throat is a bit sore," she answers the question, gesturing at the faint bruises that fade there. They might be covered with make up and glow, a bit. "And my back is all bruised. But I'm doing all right." She blushes at the compliment, and lifts a shoulder. "I've had worse after training with Logan, honestly. I'm just glad I was here to help." Anton closes his textbook at that, and stands suddenly. "I think I'll go and study somewhere else," he announces, gathering his notebook. His expression is troubled, and he moves a little too quickly as he heads for the door. "It was good seeing you again, Mister Holland-Zee," he says before he gets there, his voice tight and controlled. "See you around." Then he's gone, disappearing down the Great Hall. Alison watches him go, her expression a little sad and sympathetic. "He's the one I'm worried about. This is as close as he's been to any of this side of things." Jackson doesn't topple, though he does wobble slightly, his good hand lifting to brace briefly against Alison's shoulder as he catches his balance again. "Oh -- ohgosh m'sor -- you don't hafta --" His nose crinkles up, head dipping apologetically. "You too," he says to Anton, "See you later." His eye follows the teenager out, teeth scraping over his lower lip; the wide brim of his hat tips down, when his head does, to shade his face. "S'rough on all the kids, I think. All'a this -- kinda shakes up their whole world, don't it?" The corner of his mouth twitches upward; he tilts his head sideways to look back up at Alison. "An' I s'pose it's on us t'hold it /t'gether/." "Pshh," Alison says at Jackson's demurral, waiting until he's on solid footing again before leaving his side. She nods at the thought of the kids, and presses her mouth into a line briefly. "Yeah," she says softly. "I don't think any of them will be the same, after this." She sounds sad about that, and folds her arms across her stomach as if there's a sudden chill in the air. Her fingers clench at her elbows, and she dips her head thoughtfully. "I think it is," she agress with Jackson. "A lot of them are going to be taking their cues about how to react from the adults around them." She lifts her chin, a small smile playing about her lips. "Maybe that's why the Professor always seems so calm." Jax's nose crinkles up, and for a moment /he/ looks sad -- "... some'a them been through so much already they might jus' see it as another Monday," he says with a touch of regret. "But -- yeah. I don't think -- most." He draws in a slow breath, kind of shallower than it should be; it catches in his chest and he lets it back out quickly. "Oh gosh." Abruptly he's cheerful again, lifting his hand to take his hat from his head, twirl it around his unbroken left hand. "/Good/, then. If they're takin' cues from us we're gonna be seein' a /fair/ amount more glitter round this school soon enough." He returns Alison's smile, brighter and wider. Alison frowns at Jax's statement, the expression deepening as Jax's breath seems off. "Are /you/ okay?" she asks, indicating the bench in case he needs to sit. "We'll definitely brighten things up," she promises, brightening noticeably as her smile ratchets a bit wider. "There'll be /so much/ glitter." She /does/ sit, patting the bench again as she does so. "The kids will /totally/ not be able to help being cheerful." Outside, there's a raucous cheer from the football game, and the blonde waves her hand at the glass. "See? It's starting already." Jackson moves to sit on the bench beside Alison, sinking down slowly and stretching his legs out in front of him. He sets the hat in his lap, turnig his head towards the glass to squint towards the game outside. "Oh, I'm alright," he breathes out on a quick-shaky laugh. "Little-banged up still. Maybe-slightly screwed up the whole take-it-easy thing yesterday a little bit," he admits with a sheepish wince, a small blush, a crooked grin. He lifts his braced hand, forefinger and thumb pinching together. "Little bit. But I'm takin' it /so/ easy today to make up." He drops his hand to his lap, fingers toying with the tassles on the silver cord of his hat. "Hard /to/ take it easy after all that, though. Professor's -- tracking down some'a the. Folks who done teleported back /out/. Kinda. Itchin' to -- get back out an' /do/ --" His nose crinkles up. "Well. Anything, really. After what they been doin' to folks --" A small shudder runs through him. "You /need/ to be taking it easy," Alison admonishes warmly, scrunching her nose. "You got it pretty bad, after all. Sublime was..." she shakes her head, leaning into Jax slightly. "I'm glad you're okay," she finishes, coloring a bit. "And if you need me to give you a boost to help things along, all you have to do is ask." She pulls back as Jax admits wanting to get out in the thick of things again, and looks thoughtful. "I'd like to help with that, if you guys will let me,' she says. "I know I'm not part of the team or anything, but I'd really like to do my part." Her expression is bleak as she watches the far window, and she chew her lip thoughtfully. "We need all of those guys to be gone." "Sublime was a giant creepyface. /Is/ a giant creepyface. I don't even like bein' /near/ the DR with him in there." Jax's eye fixes down on the hat, fingers toying wih the tassle still. His teeth sink in against his lip, for a moment wiggling in at nothing, a habitual gesture for a lip ring he has yet to replace. His brows lift. "Always could use more help," he says with a small smile, "'/specially/ times like now. An' up there on Monday you was --" He tips his head over, looking off towards the glass walls. "Kinda a crazy team t'be part of, I s'pose. Guess you done pick the saner path, huh? But we sure could use --" He trails off, eye fixing off towards the setting sun. Alison nods in agreement with the thoughts on Sublime, and she leans back to stare at the glass walls herself. "Is the Professor making any progress with him?" she asks, then shakes her head. "I guess it hasn't been that long. I guess I'm in that weird place where it seems like it was both just yesterday and a thousand years ago at the same time." She returns Jax's smile, and tips her head at the compliment. "Hey. Our kids are in here. I wasn't going to let anything happen to them, if I could help it." She giggles at Jax's assessment of her own path. "Oh, gosh. I don't know about /saner/. Hollywood and the music industry are kind of their own sort of madhouse. I'm kind of glad to be out of the machine." Jackson just shrugs, here, uncertain. "Making progress with the -- cultists. With Sublime I don't -- know yet." He twirls his hat around his hand again, spinning it around and then setting it back atop his head. "Did help it. If m'proud'a anything s'that. For all that chaos, /they're/ safe, anyhow." His grin flashes bright at Alison's giggling. "Maybe everywhere's jus' a madhouse. Whole world. Jus' Wonderland." He starts to shimmer-fade out of view, leaving behind only an impressively large /grin/. Which -- continues to talk. "Prob'ly could ask Professor Summers. 'bout helpin'. 'Round up the folks the Professor's tracked down. S'a small list, but prob'ly imporant not t'jus' -- leave 'em out in the wild knowin' where we are." Alison nods. "I figured it was a bit early to know," she admits. "And that's not the kind of information that the Professor's likely to just let slip." She sounds matter-of-fact about this; perhaps she's tried to find out high-level stuff in the past. "But yeah. The kids being safe is the most important thing, and we did /that/." She giggles at the idea of living in Wonderland, and leans to bump a gentle shoulder against Jax. "Gosh, wouldn't /that/ be fun? More fun than /this/ madhouse is." She holds up her hand regally. "I'd love to go to the Looking-Glass land, and become a queen." She giggles again, sobering a bit as Jax comes back to the subject at hand. "I'll ask Scott about it after dinner," she agrees. "If he's not busy with the Professor." She lifts her eyebrows. "Speaking of dinner, Are you staying for it? I heard there was curry tonight." Jax fades back into view, turning his hand up. Alison's outfit shifts, an elaborate dress taking the place of her clothes. Poofy black-and-gold sleeves tapering into fitted satin, a huge red brocade skirt trimmed in white-and-black stripes, the bodice done up in red satin and a black-and-white checked pattern. A red-and-gold hearts pattern down the center of the wide skirts. A tall jeweled crown on her head, a white ruff around her neck. "Can be a queen right here," he says, light and singsong. "An' yeah, m'stayin'. Live here this semester, ever since --" His nose cirnkles up. "M'partment kinda. Poof. An' I /so/ do love curry." Alison makes a noise of delight at the sudden shift in her outfit, and immediately stands to really appreciate it. She turns one way, and then back the other, twisting her torso to get a better view. "Oh, /gosh/, Jax. You're just amazing. A real artist." She bends forward, looking at the hearts pattern. "I'm still working on intricate stuff," she admits. "I'm nowhere near this level, though." She poses for the younger man, straightening her body and turning her hands to latch her fingers together over her stomach. "We are pleased with your offering, Sir Jax," she says, her tone shifting to a playful loftiness. It fades almost as soon as Jax confirms he's staying. "I heard about that," she says. "I go out of town for ten days, and the whole world sort of exploded. I'm really sorry. If you guys need anything, I hope you know I'll do what I can to help." "Sure hope so," Jackson beams happily -- almost literally, a small glow shimmering around him at the compliment. "Elseways I don't know what's it they're payin' me for here," he adds with a chuckle. He doffs his hat at Alison's adopted tone, sweeping it off to make a -- smaller, stiffer than he might otherwise without his fractured sternum -- bow, returning it to his head as the topic switches back. "New York does kinda explode more'n other places, it seems. Guess s'cuz it attracts a lotta us here." He shrugs a shoulder, the glow fading away. "Do appreciate it." Alison's dress remains -- as /he/ gets up, his own outfit is taking on a similarly extravagant black-and-silver spades-themed regalia to match. He offers her his arm. "Right now, m'good lady, I think what I would most like is your company at supper." "It does seem to be prone to a special brand of terrible," Alison says of New York, bobbing her head. "Which is why we've all got to work to make it better, right?" She beams -- literally -- as Jax stands and his clothes shift. "Oh, gosh," she breathes. "We have /got/ to go out more together." She giggles as he offers his arm, and slides her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Sir Jax, it would be our great honor," she says in that lofty tone as they head for the door and the dining hall somewhere beyond. "We simply cannot think of a more delightful dinner companion."