ArchivedLogs:Reunion

Reunion
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Peter, Rasa (sleeping)
In Absentia	2013-08-10 '
Location <XS> Ivan and Peter's Dorm - FL2
The first thing one might notice upon entering this dorm room is the almost constant, low drone that emanates from almost a dozen terraria, situated mainly on and around one of the two desks present. Inside of them are plants, sand, bits of driftwood and a /lot/ of different insects and arachnids, all making their respective little noises. Krrt, chkk chkk. The other desk houses no such creatures, but it does have a laptop. There is a poster of a Dalek hanging next to a small television perched atop a few game consoles, a three-seater with a dark brown coffee table in front of it, two dressers and beds on the far side of the room. One is made quite neatly, the other... not so much. Books are strewn across pillow and sheets, mostly English and Russian-language. An even greater number is piled precariously next to the bed. Numerous postcards depicting well-known European and some Russian cities are taped to the wall above it. It's only just after noon but the dorm room has been exceedingly quiet for the past few hours. That's not to say the room has been uninhabited, though - in fact, there's a whole two people in it at the moment. They're just not making a lot of noise. Rasa is asleep on Ivan's bed. Ivan may or may not have been next to her at some point, but he isn't now. He's taken to the floor, sitting cross-legged on the black peacoat he was wearing before, now simply dressed in a boring brown t-shirt and jeans, shoes kicked off to the side. And around him? Aaaall of his insects and arachnids, contently nestled or just perched on a leg or some crawling up his arm, hand, neck, pretty much WHEREVER. Except maybe his hair. Because there's not much left of it. Short enough for maybe the tiniest of spiders to find shelter, but not much else. Woe. Alas, they don't seem too bothered, and neither does Ivan. Watching contently as a black and orange coloured tarantula crawls up across his shoulder, while his cobalt blue sits on the opposite one, and a vinegaroon boredly circles him on the floor. He may have slightly missed all of them. There had been /plans/, Ivan. Plans for a pounce, followed by /hugs/. Those plans are shortly coming to fruition by the sound of a brief knock -- THE ONLY WARNING IVAN GETS -- followed immediately by the door swinging open, to reveal +1 PETER! Clad in his dark hoodie, blue sweat-pants, and a /massive/ smile. But those plans -- coming to fruition as Peter begins to /surge/ forward -- are interrupted. By the presence of... ohGOD that is a lot of bugs. Peter, mid-charge, proceeds to /spring/ up on the ceiling with a dull THWUMP; his fingers, knees, and feet extended out to spread his weight across the tiles as effectively as he can -- just staring down at Ivan, wide-eyed. A little mixture of fear and awe: "--oh," Peter says, suddenly, followed by: "You found your /bugs/." If the fact that his plans have been foiled bothers him, Peter doesn't show it; his face is soon refitted with a grin, bright and happy. "Welcome back, Ivan! You are, uh. Covered in bugs." Ivan doesn't seem ENTIRELY SURE Peter is able to stop his forward surge, and though he doesn't show it far past the widening of his own eyes, his bugs show it much clearer FOR him. All of the STOP immediately, while some throw tiny little limbs upward in-- shock, surprise? They stay momentarily in a state of aaaaaa, even as Ivan gets to his feet and stands up, nodding. Nod. Nod nodnodnod. BUGS. He seems very pleased about this. Though-- also momentarily hesitant, his gaze flitting silently toward Rasa on the bed. Then, with some of the critters still just now crawling up a leg or onto a shoulder, he moves to put them all back in their open enclosures. Quite quickly! Maybe hugs require rushing. OhmyGod are the bugs raising their arms up because /they/ want hugs too? Peter seems, momentarily, to struggle with this possibility. But he finally decides to wait, because -- BUGS OH JEEZ SO MANY BUGS. It's only once the majority of them seem to have been safely ferreted away that -- Hup! -- he jumps off the ceiling and /lands/ with a loud THWUMP in front of Ivan. And then -- YOINK! Both arms curling around the boy, SQUEEZING him in the sort of hug that can easily lift a person off the ground. Although, for now, Peter seems to have learned the trick of not /crushing the chest/ of the people he hugs. "/Ivan/," Peter exclaims, rather sharply, "oh man Ivan so many things have been going on oh /man/ I've wanted to know about your crazy Russian adventures I have been having kind of crazy American adventures and I couldn't tell you about them all because some of them are /VERY/. /SECRET/. But Ivan I used your spiderwebs to make /BODYARMOR/ and it totally blocks /BULLETS/." The remaining critters on Ivan drop to the floor and find a dark corner elsewhere in the room as soon as a hug has been applied! He'll find them again - this is not the first time this has happened. He's kind of TENSE, at first. Maybe he's expecting chest crushing. But then there is a hug BACK. With all of his MIGHT. Which is less than Peter's, but still more than he would have managed before! SQUISH SHOULDERS HNNH. "Not so loud, please, for Rasa," is the first thing he says, kind of quietly and with his accent clinging slightly heavier to his words than usual. But it's not /strict/ so much as amused, thanks to the smile on his face. Which actually fades slightly, a moment later, when he pulls back to look at Peter with eyebrows lowered. Because... "W-wait, bullets?" Less of a real question and more of a /whoah/. "Ohman," Peter comments, in response to Ivan's hug; his face is split with a grin as he sets him back down to the floor. "You've gotten stronger Ivan." This comment is made with a bit more of a hushed tone, a quick glance thrown toward the slumbering Rasa! Peter solemnly nods, as if he has been just informed of a very, very important fact. "--ohyeah. I'm..." Peter steps back from Ivan, the gesture reluctant; it's mostly just to give him room to reach behind his head and scratch. "--okay. But the city's been... do you remember the shadow lady? In the news?" Peter's expression grows a bit more tense; the grin evaporates, replaced with a thin line. "--she got--the government went after her. In the sewers. She was killed, I think. I was... we sometimes visit -- there are mutants living down there, we were visiting one of them. When they sent soldiers down to retrieve her -- they had guns." Peter's hand drifts down to the patch on his hoodie; bright blue, it's near his upper left chest. "--didn't even penetrate. Just a bruise. I'm not," Peter's mouth becomes a much more /tense/ line, now. "--going down there anymore, not for a while at least. Jax almost /died/. He's okay now, though." Things Ivan missed, The List: #1, Rasa. #2, Bugs. #3, Peter rambles. Even now, when the subject may be grim. His smile does take a bit of a hit too, but his attention is without a doubt on Peter's every word. His eyes follow the hand to the patch, after which his brow knits together and he searches the REST of his friend for signs of injuries. His mouth opens for him to say something, but it doesn't quite come out with his expression all knotted up in confusion. Eventually, he simply looks back up at Peter, and states flatly, "I am- very glad you did not almost die, as well. I was worried." Oh! He straightens, and without saying anything, goes for a big suitcare parked in a corner of the room, lugging it far enough away from the wall to lay it down flat and click it open. Gifts! Gift-wrapped and everything, though... apparently someone didn't have anything but gold-white-red reindeer packing paper. They have NAMES on them. "--ohyeah, I mean, I didn't even get seriously injured or anything, basically," Peter says, chest popping up like a sparrow primping and showing off, "your spider stuff makes me /bulletproof/." Then: "Oh dude I could make some for you, it's basically like /mithril/. It gets really hot to wear in the summer though, and..." Peter's eyes widen when Ivan produces -- OHO! Gifts! Peter reaches, fingers groping and wriggling out toward them. "OhmyGod you got me a GIFT Ivan I didn't get you /anything/," Peter says, his tone getting a little louder, correcting volume only after a quick glance toward the still-slumbering Rasa. Once Peter has this /thing/ in his hands, it will not survive long before Peter is TEARING THE WRAPPING ASUNDER. "I would like to see how you make it." Ivan responds quietly, a timid smile finding its way back onto his face as he rifles through gifts to find the right ones. Some of them are smaaall. Some of them are biiig. And hey! Peter gets one of each, apparently. Though when Ivan gets to his feet again, he keeps hold of the small one for now, handing the bigger one over with a brief glance to Rasa. "This one is from my brother Lev and me. He said to say..." He does not sound quite sure of the following, giving Peter a /very serious look nonetheless. "... that you will look 'premium'." Inside the ill-timed wrapping paper, Peter will find a comfortable, fluffy black ushanka! Not real fur, unfortunately, but /pretty close/. With a little red star on it and everything, for EXTRA tourist souvenir points. Peter stares at this hat. For a good while! At least five seconds. Which is, in Petertime, essentially an /eternity/. When he finally moves, it is to put this hat on his head, very firmly adjusting it -- and folding his arms over his chest. Before proclaiming, to Ivan, with a great deal of force (subdued only by his desire not to be too loud): "OhmyGod, Ivan, I am. The /Russian/ Batman." Gone is the serious look from Ivan's face. Something about Peter with a ushanka on is enough to bring his smile back, and he /nods/. Yes EXACTLY like the Russian Batman, Peter. "The flaps." He mimicks around his own head, as if he were wearing one too. "They come down. It is good for winter." Then, the second gift is offered up. But in a closed fist! "Careful." Only THEN does he hand it over. Inside the second gift is-- a ROCK! To be fair, it is a very pretty rock. It's a chunk of raw something, dark purple with itty bitty white inclusions, on a dinky little silver-coloured collector's stand that reads, in friendly letters, 'CHAROITE'. Ivan looks more unsure of this gift. Like maybe he bought this one ALL ON HIS OWN. "--flaps. Right," Peter says, and then he's fiddling with those very same flaps! To bring them down, and BETTER EMULATE the Russian Batman. All he needs is the mask to wear underneath. At the offer of the second gift, Peter's eyebrows spring up; he accepts it -- carefully! As Ivan suggests. And still /tears it asunder/ greedily, but maybe with a bit more caution. Upon seeing himself greeted by a bright violet-purple rock named 'CHAROITE', Peter's eyebrows lift! And he peers at it, wide-eyed and interested. Turning it over this way and that to watch it /sparkle/. Tugging at the collector stand to see if it can be removed for /closer inspectings/. "--is this a rare rock it looks like a rare rock actually it /kind/ of looks almost artificial like purple quartz or something, but..." The little stand does come off! Due to it being cheap and sort of plasticky. Really it probably just IS plastic. "Yes." This is Ivan's /very determined/ answer to whether or not it is rare. It may or may not be true but he's convinced. "It is only found in Siberia." After cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, he feels the need to add, "And museums." Then, his eyes land back on Peter's face. One part expectant, one part doubtful. But before too long, he's moving again. Back to the suitcase to rifle through things. "I was worried that maybe you would not be here for the gifts." The plastic stand is /immediately/ taken off. And put aside, because. Not /nearly/ as interesting as strange purple rock! Which Peter is turning over and weighing, tossing from hand to hand (VERY carefully). "--/only/ in Siberia? It's really pretty," Peter says, and then he's setting the rock aside with a CLACK, a tiny grin crooking its way over his features -- stepping forward (still in hat!) to Ivan as he returns to rifling through his suitcase. To deliver another hug, SURPRISE, from behind. "I," Peter tells him, "will /always/ be here. Ivan thank you for the awesome Russian gifts. We," he continues, indicating both IVAN and HIMSELF, "are going to a bug museum." This has been decided. Ivan's just managed to retrieve something else - not wrapped this time - when there is another hug! Aaa. There's a sound of scurrying BUGS in their terraria for just a second, but none thereafter. When he turns to face Peter, he looks a bit more confident again, standing up straight and pushing his shoulders back. The mention of a bug museum makes his eyes go wide again. "/Yes/." He takes a deep breath, looking again toward Rasa for a moment, before his eyes land on his friend again. Though he continues in Russian, he does so fairly slowly. "{It was good to be gone for a little while. I needed some distance from... everything. But I'm very glad I'm back.}" Then, he simply holds out something else for Peter to snatch up. Two GIANT shark teeth! Almost as long as his index finger, shiny white and serrated. Quietly, he asks, "For Sebastian and Shane?" "{I understand,}" Peter responds in Russian -- right back! Grinning. "{Also? Am learning all the--}" He pauses, before realizing he does not know the word for this! And thusly finishes in English: "--languages." The sight of the shark teeth make Peter's eyebrows /zoom/ up. Oh, /God/. He takes them, his grin (which had shown signs of evaporating beneath a thoughtful expression!) returning, full-force. "Oh man they will love these," he declares, "/especially/ Bastian he's all into weird -- bone things? But, yeah, it's also -- good to just. Get away, sometimes. I /missed/ you though, oh man, /so/ much," and now Peter seems ready to give Ivan yet a third hug, except he's currently holding dangerously sharp sharkteeth in either hand. He peers at them, as if trying to will them to be LESS SHARP. "... Missing is good." Ivan states, monotonously, after a short pause. He seems pleased that Peter's pleased about the gifts, smile inching wider as he leans back onto his heels for a moment. "Missing means there is a place in your life that people /fit/." He doesn't have anything in his hands. Do you know what that means? Hug incoming! Though careful so as to not cut Peter with the shiny parts SHARK he just gave him. "My real brothers are not the same." OOF. Peter accepts the incoming hug, his grin bright and cheery; it has showed so few signs of fading that one might begin to think it is his default expression. The shark teeth are finally laid down on a nearby cabinet with a delicate, careful clatter -- and Peter reaches forward to join. "You have so many," Peter says, "but they only have one of you -- I kind of feel /greedy/ wanting you back here, but." He /headbutts/; the gesture is soft, cushioned even more by the ushanka. "/But/," Peter decides, "I will show you how I made my armor and then we will go to a bug museum and do /all/ the things," he declares. "All of them. At once."