ArchivedLogs:Simple People

Simple People
Dramatis Personae Lyric, Peter, Rasa, Sebastian	2013-08-06 '
Location <XS> Treehouse
Built by enterprising students of yesteryear, this treehouse has weathered generations of Xaviers' students coming up here to study -- or escape from studying. A cozy retreat, its wood planks are sturdy and well-sanded, fit snug together to keep out draft. Snacks occasionally find their way up here, and the roof keeps the rain off well enough to pass a night -- so long as the teachers don't catch any students at it. For anyone agile enough to make the jump, a lucky leap juuust might carry them from here to the school rooftop, so long as they're careful of the drop... Exams have finished for the day -- for much of the school, exams have finished for the /term/, though a few unlucky students still have theirs scheduled for tomorrow morning. /Those/ students are perhaps cramming /right now/ -- though more likely they are relaxing and trying not to think about upcoming stress. Up in the treehouse, there is some serious relaxing going on, by way of a lively drumbeat that carries down to the yard below. It's fast-paced, coming from a small djembe drum that Lyric currently has tucked between her legs. She's dressed brightly, loose-flowing yellow skirt, ankle-length, with tiny inlay at its hem in darker yellow and little circular pieces of mirror. A lightweight but long-sleeved blue blouse, a gauzy yellow scarf draped over her poof of curls. Her bare feet rest on the wood floor, her backpack discarded in the corner; eyes closed, her hands /jingle/ as they drum, from the tiny bells on her gold bracelets. Rasa finishes hir exams with a sigh and just starts walking out of the classroom, out of the hall way and eventually, directly out of the school. As it is an exam day, ze has very little to hobble hirself with in the pursuit of freedom, nothing except a pencil and an eraser, which ze has shoved into a pocket on the side of hir many pocketed baggy cargo pants. The khaki colored trousers dip low in the back as a tail, something incredibly uncomfortable in standard exam chairs and possibly very distracting during tests, begins to blossom from under hir shirt and hang down limply at hir ankles before dragging along the ground. Hir arms, a slate gray color, stretch up and over hir head, pushing hir torso, covered in a gray cotton tanktop, into extremes as ze tries to work out some of the kinks for sitting and thinking for so very long in such a concentrated manner. Once finished, ze pauses, looking up and around, finding hirself out on the campus grounds, near the tree house, listening to some soothing drum beats. Curious, ze kicks off hir sandals and begins to climp up the side of the tree and the outside of the tree house itself to peek in the windows, hir hands and feet shifting to make this possible. Down on the ground, Sebastian is emerging from exams, too. He is also skirted -- a gauzy light green knee-length skirt paired with a lacy purple camisole. He's already long since shed his shoes -- perhaps he even did his last exam without them! -- and is armed now only with cellphone. Texting and walking. And munching on a long strip of peppery beef jerky. "Woah." He stops outside, tilting his head to listen to the music with eyes closing for a moment. "Is this like, post-exam dance-party?" He sounds so hopeful! He is quick to follow after Rasa -- admittedly climbing the more conventional way up the ladder to poke his head up in the hatch. The music continues, not missing a beat in the face of the new audience. Lyric doesn't even really seem to notice them, either the conversation on the ground or the faces peeking in -- possibly because her eyes are currently closed. It's possible she /did/ pay attention to the climbing, though, because after a short while she cracks an eye open, peeking towards the window and the entryway hatch with an abrupt bright smile. Now there /is/ a hitch in the music, beat dropping to a low one-handed murmur against the rim of her drum as her other hand gestures to the empty treehouse around herself in invitation. Rasa raises an eyebrow and smiles at Sebastian. Ze gives a little shrug and pulls hirself in through the window, perching on the ledge, then lowering hir feet inside. Ze remains quiet, skirting around the young musician to settle into a crosslegged sitting position in front of Lyric, hands and arms coming to rest in hir lap. Ze looks from the drum over to Sebastian and settles down to listen, pulling some gloves out of hir pockets and pulling them onto hir rather standard five fingered hands, buckling them across the backs of hir hands. Ze then gives a little wave of greeting, but stays quiet to listen. Sebastian pulls himself up once Rasa has entered, moving to settle down beside hir, carefully smoothing his skirt down as he kneels on the wood. His own hand -- five-fingered, too! But very nonstandard in its webbing and sharp claws -- rests on the floor beside him. He watches Lyric's hands, head starting to bob along with the beat. "Do you dance?" he asks Rasa. Lyric's hand returns to the drum, picking the lively beat up where she left off. The drumbeat vibrates through the treehouse's floorboards, spilling down into the yard below. Her smile fades into a small uncertain frown as she considers the two recent arrivals, but the word 'dance' perks it back up into brightness. She scoots back slightly further against the wall, leaving more space in the rest of the treehouse. "Well, if she insists..." Rasa glances over at Lyric before moving to hir feet once more, holding a hand out to Sebastian. "Shall we?" Clunk, clunk, clunk. That's the sound of footfalls somewhere on top of the treehouse; it's soon accompanied by -- a chitinous, metallic blue face! Upside down, peeking in through the window. Glasses barely dangling from his head. Oho, it's Peter! And he's /spying/. Sebastian smiles, quick and wide if self-consciously closed-lipped. He bounces to his feet, taking Rasa's hand and tugging hir closer. For /dancing/! Without a whole lot of /style/ or finesse but with a lot of exuberance to match the lively drumbeat. His green skirt whirls around his knees with the motions. "Peter, we're having a dance party." He's not looking towards the window (too busy dancing!), but presumably he /heard/ those footsteps. -- And possibly /smelled/ the boy outside. "Do you have any exams left? It /might/ be an end-of-exams dance party." Lyric's smile only grows as the others stand. And dance! To her vibrant drum-music, which is still thumping through the wood of the treehouse. Her head tilts slightly when Peter appears at the window. And then tilts more, and then more, turning to try and match the boy's upside-down angle until -- the music abruptly /stops/ when she slooowly topples herself sideways. This does nothing to dim her smile, though. She gestures at Peter, beckoning him inside. "I have one left in the morning," Rasa admits, sliding up close to Sebastian. Hir steps bounce, hir head turning when Peter is greeted and then, ze stops when the music stops, hir body stiffening slightly when the other girl falls over. Ze releases Sebastian, eyes wide and brows lifted and turns to move closer to Lyric to see if she is okay. Her worried mind prints, 'are you okay?' across hir forehead before ze has a chance to ask. "Hi, Peter." Peter's eyebrows perk (which means, they actually go down) when Sebastian speaks to him; a slight grin ticks over his features. When Lyric spies him and proceeds to tilt her head in response to him, Peter's grin spreads further! But when she collapses to the ground, Peter's head promptly /vanishes/. Almost an instant later, and he is scrambling up the ladder with surprising speed and ease, hopping into the interior of the tree-house! "Hey, Rasa. Sebastian. Lyric -- right?" Peter asks, turning to her suddenly to say this. "I got two left," he tells Sebastian. Sebastian squints down towards the girl on the floor with a reflexive worry that smoothes over when he sees her still-bright smile. "You play pretty awesome," he tells her, and then reconsiders to /sign/ this in very fumbling ill-grammared -- not-really-ASL -- 'YOU', point to drums, 'GOOD.' He turns back towards Peter and Rasa, nose wrinkling. "-- Sucks to be /you/ guys. I finished my last today. Need any help reviewing for anything?" Lyric's dark eyes flick over the writing on Rasa's forehead, and this brightens her smile still further in a wide flash of teeth. She nods quickly, pushing herself back upright and wriggling away from her drum to drag her backpack closer and pull out a notebook and pen. She sticks her tongue out at Sebastian's /back/ when he turns away, though, leaning forward to tug at the hem of his camisole and nudge him back to face her. L-Y-R-I-C, she fingerspells with an affirmative nod, flipping open her notebook with her other hand and clicking her pen open. 'What exams?' she writes, in quick neat blocky print. 'Mine are done. Still have a final project to turn in.' "I have my Lit exam tomorrow, but it's just the final for the term, not the whole class. I've got two more terms, then the AP exam." Rasa is obviously not very worried. 'A.P. Lit, term 1,' appears on hir arm in an eye catching blue. Ze settles down into a seated position by Lyric again, paying closer attention to her. Ze waves a hand across hir collarbones, where the words 'I'm Rasa' appears with 'seen you around,' in an inky black. Finally, the test disappears from hir arm, only to be replaced with 'what project?' in blue again. "--pssh I don't need help reviewing /anything/ I'm basically the /master/ of tests," Peter announces in that rapid staccato rhythm of his. When Lyric proceeds to spell out her name with her fingers, Peter is watching with apparent interest! When she writes, Peter is leaning over -- maybe crowding just a /bit/! -- to read. "Oh, just math and science," Peter says, kind of dismissively; he sweeps his hand aside, as if to brush them both to the wayside. "Easy A." "Oh! -- Ohright, sorry." Sebastian's cheeks flush slightly when he is nudged; he turns back so that he is facing Lyric more directly. His own fingers attempt to repeat the fingerspelling, with only middling success; some of the letters prove far more difficult than others for webbed fingers to manage. "-- Oh. Hm. I haven't done AP lit yet." He frowns, clearly considering this a /failing/ of his. "Peter, if you get anything lower than a ninety-nine I'm going to laugh at you," he informs the other boy, and then, "-- What kind of drum is that?" R-A-S-A, Lyric fingerspells, reading the words on Rasa's skin with a smile. 'I like your words,' she writes. 'I've seen you, too. And him,' she points to Peter here, 'and her,' to Sebastian, 'and her brother too. You all sit together a lot.' Her brow scrunches up as she studies the others while they talk. 'Photography final project.' gives answer to Rasa, and then, 'My drum.' Not particularly helpful, really. "Oh! You're a photographer!" Rasa grins, a simple 'Photography!' appears on hir forehead in bright white. 'And thank you,' trickles down one cheek in the color of blush. It might be a little hard to read, but it's there. "Take A.P. Lit with me next term, Bastian," ze speaks up quietly. "We can talk critical analysis." Ze then points to Peter, his name writes itself across hir forearm in mottled blue and red. Hir other hand rises to point to Sebastian, his name swimming against hir upper arm in the blue of his skin tone. After Lyric's had a chance to read, ze folds hir arms across hir chest, 'friends' appearing on the lower arm, and 'you should sit with us' writing itself in a colorful yellow on the top forearm. "RasaWords," Peter announces, as if this was a simple statement of fact, "/are/ pretty awesome. And pfffsh /me/ get something lower than a 99 who do you think I am, Peter 'NOT-A-Science-Wizard' Parker? I feel sorry for /that/ kid." He scoots forward a bit closer, peering at Lyric's notebook as she writes. At the mention of photography, Peter brightens! "I was gonna take that to get the art requirement, but now I'm gonna take costuming so I can learn how to make my costume even /better/. I still have to take English Lit too, oh man are we just going to take /all/ the classes together next year?" "I don't actually remember what I was going to take next term," Bastian muses, "I think I could do another English! The only one I /know/ I'm taking is sex ed because Shane says I have to take it /with/ him." His nose crinkles, and he drops back down to sit again, leaning in close to peer towards the notebook. "Her -- oh, me?" His cheeks flush deeper blue. "/I'm/ not a her -- well. Kind of -- not really -- I don't think," he hedges, rather uncertainly. Lyric grins, bright and a little crooked, her nose wrinkling up as well. 'Don't know if I'm a photographer. Intro class. I did like it a lot though! Way fun.' She underlines /way/. And then underlines it again. 'So maybe I will be a photographer?' /Will/ is underlined, too. 'I might try fabric arts, too. Also looks fun!' And the on the next line, 'I'm doing sex ed next term.' This comes with a deep blush of her own. 'Isn't that one your dad now?' But then Bastian's protest pulls her brows together, deep and rather perplexed. She looks down at his skirt, then up at his face. 'But skirt.' Rasa presses hir lips into a fine line, turning a little to give Lyric a full view of hir left arm. 'People of all genders can wear skirts. It's just an article of clothing. It may be typically worn by those that identify as female, but not in all cases.' Ze bites hir lip before adding more. 'Personally, I don't identify as gendered... and use 'ze' and 'hir' for pronouns.' Ze glances nervously toward Bastian before smiling at Lyric once more. Peter glossed right over Lyric referring to Sebastian as a 'her'; when Sebastian corrects, Peter listens -- and a moment of bafflement crosses his face when Sebastian seems to have a moment of doubt. "--not really?" Peter asks, suddenly /inspecting/ Bastian. As if searching for -- well, it's hard to say! Maybe he's looking for the elusive cootie gene. When Peter sees 'sex ed' written in Lyric's notebook, he turns a dark violet -- and moves a hand to rub at his face. He is smiling! But also rubbing. "Oh man," he says, his hand /maybe/ preventing Lyric from even saying what he's seeing. "Shane's gonna be in there too I kind of feel sorry for everyone -- taking it." "Yeah, my dad -- yeah." Sebastian is still flushing deep blue, the gills at the side of his neck fluttering. "Um -- not really? I mean I don't -- know," he says, softer. "Sorry." He fidgets where he sits, a little uncomfortably, though he relaxes slightly when he looks at the words written on Rasa's arm. "-- The class is /definitely/ going to be more interesting with Shane." Lyric reads Rasa's arm with no noticeable lessening of her perplexity. Her eyes slide to Sebastian, still uncertain as she watches his fumbling. There's a long pause, her pen twirling quickly back and forth between her fingers, before she writes again. 'Wait so are you really a boy?' Her expression is very confused. S-E-B-A-S-T-I-A-N, she fingerspells quickly, like trying to puzzle this out. Boyname. 'What happens if you don't have a gender?' This time she looks at Rasa for this, brows still knitted together. But then, last: 'What, why? No, I don't think you need to be ashamed. Everyone has to take the class.' The lettering on Rasa's left arm all scoots in together to merge into the words 'Nothing happens.' Ze shrugs and pulls the strap of hir tank top off one shoulder so that there's more room to write on the exposed portion of hir chest. 'Gender is an expression that comes from within. There's a whole spectrum of really girly to really boyish, with everything in between and ... well, agendered - nongendered somewhere in the mix. Sometimes names and the physical parts match up, sometimes they don't, and sometimes that changes.' Finally, the arm pulling the strap away is littered with words once more. 'Gender shouldn't change how we are with people.' Peter gives Sebastian a nudge at the apology, followed by a PFSHH of predictably Peter-esque proportions. "Man don't apologize I just -- like, I dunno I figured..." His eyes drift first to Lyric, then to Rasa -- as ze proceeds to write extensively on the subject of gender. Peter peers closely at what is being written! But only then seems to realize he is peering at Rasa's /body/. For some reason, he finds this idea far more embarrassing than peering at Sebastian's body; he goes dark violet again, clears his throat, and turns back to Lyric. To smile! Sebastian lifts a hand, pressing his palm down against the side of his neck where his gills are opening. "No? I mean yes? I mean I don't know I guess people would say I'm /really/ a boy. I --" The color has not left his cheeks. He looks over at Rasa, reading hir words with a hint of gratefulness. He waves a hand towards hir. "-- That. All that. Gender is -- complicated." The last sentence just /puzzles/ him, for a moment, before realization dawns: "-- Ohh. No. Not shame. Shane. Although actually it's pretty much the same in the end." Lyric is very quiet as she reads all this, but, then, she's been largely quiet all this while anyway. Her mouth forms a silent 'oh', and she looks down at her notebook for a while. 'I thought it was simple,' she writes, chewing at one corner of her lip, and then, 'I liked the dancing better. That /was/ simple.' The correction of the word draws another blush. 'Shane,' she repeats, first in fingerspelling and then in a double-underlined written word. 'I guess you don't need to be ashamed of him, either.' 'People are delightfully complicated.' The words scrawl down Rasa's free arm in pink, adorned with vines, flowers and curly-cues. "'Bastian, you're wonderful the way you are." Ze reaches over to squeeze his hand reassuringly. If ze notices Peter blushing about hir body, ze doesn't seem to indicate this at all. Finally, cheery yellow appears on the opposite arm. 'More dancing then?' Peter, in response to this, proceeds to /smooch/ Sebastian. Okay, just on the side of the head; and yeah, it's more of a /peck/ than a smooch. But he does, anyway. "--I think," he says, "that Shane is pretty close to shameless." He mentions this to Lyric with a lopsided grin, before! With a quick glance to Rasa's arm, Peter brightens! "More dancing," he says, before suddenly frowning and /warning/ the rest of the room: "...um, just so we're clear here, I'm a /terrible/ dancer." Lyric's frown deepens at the quick peck, but the warning draws a smile from her, bright and wide. The smile is the only answer she gives; she sets her notebook aside, drawing her drum back between her legs. It is not long before the treehouse is filled with the thump of drumbeat once more.