ArchivedLogs:Sunny Days

Sunny Days
Dramatis Personae Alison, Faelan, Jackson
In Absentia	2013-04-12 Alison and Jax finally meet. Faelan drops in. Warning! SO MUCH cheerfulness.
Location <XS> Art Room
Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies. It's Friday, but it's /morning/, early enough that the bulk of the end-of-week slacking hasn't kicked into full drive yet. As such most students are actually even in class! -- Or /were/ in class, though second period has just finished, moving into the gap before third period, time spent studying or relaxing or, on Fridays, for students to catch up with their advisors. Jax's class has just let out, and he is busying himself, at the moment, tidying up his classroom. He's at the sink, right now, washing out a /host/ of paintbrushes. As per usual he doesn't /look/ very teachery, a silvery vinyl skirt with a rainbow sewed onto one corner, knee-high socks (one striped black-and-silver, the other purple-and-silver), chunky silver-and-black sneakers. Fishnet sleeves, a purple v-neck top. He is turning his head to one side, squinting up his good eye as he rubs his arm against the elastic strap of his eyepatch. There's music playing from a stereo to one side, quietly, an album of Ryan Black's. "Oh, my gosh, I have to have those sneakers," is Alison's way of announcing her presence as she walks into the art room. Dressed in a blue-and-white t-shirt over skinny jeans and graffiti'd sneakers, she could almost pass for one of the students. Almost. "They are the most fantastic footwear I've seen since I went to an art show in Chelsea." She offers a wide smile as she walks towards the sink, looking over various projects that sit waiting completion or drying. "If you tell me you made them, you will officially be my new best friend." Her smile stretches a bit wider, and her eyes twinkle mischeviously. "At least until I get my own pair." She holds out a hand, then. "Mister Holland, yes?" There was hardly a sound made as what had been empty space at the back of the room before now held a person in it, a person who was awkward and gangly looking, but at least one wearing a Xavier Institute hoodie. He was just opening his eyes by the time others were noticing him, and blinking a bit in surprise he finally said "Wait, I'm still on campus? Oh thank god." His features were relaxing before his brain filled in the details that yes, there were other people in the room, and his face flushed with embarassment. "Oh, um, sorry. I mean I had... um." His lips slammed shut and his body language was looking tense, which at least was par for the course for poor Faelan. "What -- oh! Hi, miss!" Jackson turns to flash a bright smile at Alison. "Thanks! I, uh, I /did/ make 'em, although maybe not like how -- I make most'a my clothes," he admits cheerfully, "oh, gosh, I'd -- sorry do you /really/ want to -- my hands're all drippy-wet." His nose wrinkles apologetically, lifting one hand out of the sink to waggle glittery-nailed fingers at Alison, his fingers both wet and kind of colourful with watered-down paint. The talking in the back of the room pulls his attention that way, smile still bright. "Hi, Faelan." He's still warm, here, though rather less /brightly/ exuberant. "Y'aright? You're still here." Alison flutters her fingers, and shakes her head. "I've had worse on my hands," she assures Jax, and reaches out to take a drippy-wet hand. "I've been wanting to meet you," she admits as she releases it, reaching to take some paper towels and wipe hand off daintily. "I'm Alison Blair." There might be more, but then there is a Faelan, and she furrows her brow in his direction. "Oh, gosh. Yes, are you all right?" "I have a class coming up, and if I jumped again I might not make it back to campus until the Monday," he replied to Jacksons statements Faelan was embarassed, but the partial success of even staying on campus was keeping his mood from completely falling. He was even dealing with reading of social queues as he looked between the two. "Sorry I'm interrupting, um, I'm Faelan by the way," his words came out lower, but at least it carried to the others. He at least owed his name to the girl for having interrupted things. "Oh! /Oh/. /You're/ Alison. Oh, gosh, hi!" Jackson's handshake is firm, if squelchy-wet. He returns to his brush-cleaning afterwards. "You keep your phone on you? Panic button's for situations like that. Folks here'll look out for you if y'end up lost. My kid --" But he hesitates, at this, just crinkling his nose as he continues his work, hanging the brushes up to dry once he has cleaned each. "Y'ain't interrupting nothing, I'm just tidying." Alison smiles. "If you think that was an interruption, you haven't been here long enough," she teases, blotting her hands dry. "I've seen much worse, believe me." Her smile is wide, and she scrunches her nose. "I might have done worse, back in my day." She glances at Jackson when he mentions his son, but she lets it be, instead stepping in the direction of the teenager. "Faelan, was it?" she verifies, holding out a hand. "I'm Alison. It's nice to meet you." Her smile's brightness ratchets up -just- a notch. "Mister Holland is right," she says. "The school's pretty good about looking out for the students." "The panic button is only if I end up out in the ocean, or in the arctic, or in danger," Faelan started replying, before blinking and continuing "You have a kid?" He moved a bit closer to the others so he wasn't just talking across the room. "It is nice to meet you as well Alison," his reply automatically started as he looked between the two. "You know, you both are some of the nicest people here. Thank you." "Well, 'kay, you don't maybe gotta hit the panic button if you just end up in Ohio 'stead'a in the arctic, but you still got the phone and should call. We'll hook you up to get home," Jackson says with a bright smile. "Oh, gosh, miss, I ain't no Mister Holland, just Jax." His cheeks flush at Faelan's words, and he ducks his head, spilling bright purple-and-silver (a metallic-sheeny shade that hair dye really shouldn't be able to manage) down over his eye. "Gosh, thanks, I don't -- I mean, we just want to make sure you're took care of right." "Jax," Alison repeats, flashing that smile back over her shoulder at Jackson and crinkling her eyes. "I /like/ that. And you can call me Ali." Then she's turning back to Faelan. "You, too, if you want. Every time I hear 'Alison', I start looking for producers." She chuckles, and scrunches her nose at the compliment. "Oh, wow. I think most everyone here is nice," she demurs, coloring a bit herself. Jackson's comment gets a nod. "They just want to help. But thank you." She tilts her head. "Have you been a student here, long?" Nodding with a smile at the recommendations for action, Faelan's gaze was passing between the two. "It isn't the first time that they would have to send me a ride. There are a lot of frequent flier miles racked on the account from me. Its alright, I always end up back here, its the safest place for me." The blushing of the others for whatever reason helped him relax. "You even both shorten your names similarly. I don't think Fae has quite the same ring to it as yours." With the questioning, he actually paused thinking it through. "I've been here for a few years, but well, most people don't see me much," and as those words came out he disapeared, though the thudding of a desk and a muffled ow brought him back into view a few steps ahead. "I've been trying to do better before I graduated though." "Ali," Jax echoes, brightening. Literally, really, a brief glow shimmering cheery-yellow around him and then vanishing. "Producers?" This earns a small curious furrow of brow. "-- I think Fae sounds great," he says, cheerful, "though it does kinda bring to mind --" He lifts a wet hand, and above it a small person appears, fairylike, a slim elfin boy with blue hair fluttering on large blue butterfly wings. "Y'know, fae." "Television producers," Alison clarifies for Jax, giving off her own little shimmer of twinkling light which cascades around her and fades into nothingness. "I love Fae," she says, turning back to the boy. "It's as unique as the long form. People would certainly remember it." The demonstration of his power is watched with a small smile. "Even if they couldn't see you." To Jax's hologram, she offers a happy sort of noise, and claps her hands lightly. "Oh, that's wonderful," she says. "I was never able to manage more than basic shapes, myself. You have a real gift.” Watching the illusion appear with delight, Faelan nodded and said, "Yeah, thats why it doesn't sound quite as good, but I guess if you guys like it then it isn't too bad." As she mentioned television, his gaze went back to her. "You're on television? Oh, I'd never really met anyone famous before, well outside of the professors here. But talking to senate subcomittees isn't quite the same as television shows." "You kinda flit around and disappear -- it's pretty fae-like," Jackson says, warm and cheerful as he flicks water off his fingertips into the sink and shuts the water off. The fairy wings over to light on Faelan's shoulder, and Jax's eye widens at Alison's cascade of light. "Oh! Oh." He sounds pretty delighted. "You're so bright! -- Wait, you're on TV?" He looks her over again, more curiously. "-- I don't know, talkin' to senate subcommittees got it's place, too," he adds, with a quiet laugh. "Not too bad," Alison agrees with a chuckle, and offers Jackson another dose of light for his compliment. This time it's tiny orbs that hover in the air like glowing soap bubbles. "And yes, I'm on television," she confirms. "Although, 'celebrity' might be pushing it, unless you count the horror movie fans." She widens her smile. "Which I do, of course. They're oddly adorable." She moves to lean against one of the tables, inspecting it first for errant paint. "I have a talk show," she clarifies. "But between you and me, I think it'd be pretty awesome to be known for speaking to senators on important topics, too." Blushing at the commentary about being fae like and the illusion landing on his shoulder, Faelan looked distracted a moment. "You both have more useful powers," he said without much though behind the words. "Oh I didn't say it wasn't fame, just not the same. But its more important, since well, otherwise we wont have a voice in it." Nodding at that, he still smiled at the list of accomplishments Alison had. "You must be really talented to have all of those roles." "Oh -- oh, gosh, I didn't know. Woah. A real live celebrity." Jax blushes deeper, leaning back against the sink. He does not inspect for paint. This might be a mistake. But then again he is fairly speckled already. "It's important," he agrees, though it's a little hesitant. "An', well, I found plenty'a situations being invisible's /right/ handy." On Faelan's shoulder, the fairy flutters his wings slowly, then settles down to sit, bare legs dangling weightlessly over the teenager's collarbone. "Oh, no, please," Alison says, holding her hands up against the recognition, the orbs pinkening a bit as she ducks her head. "Here in the school, I'm just a former student and sometimes moocher of food." She smiles, and shrugs, laughing at Faelan's comment. "You have never seen any of my movies, or you wouldn't say that," she says, tilting her head and smiling at him gently. "Because they are /terrible/. I just had a really hard-working agent." She nods at Jax. "He's right, you know. Invisibility and teleportation have a /ton/ of usefulness." She rolls her eyes. "You wouldn't believe the number of times in my life I would have liked to have had both those abilities." "My powers are running and hiding. Or well, making my problems go away." Faelan shook his head as he poked the table he had bumped into and it disapeared from view. "It has usefulness if you're afraid at least. I had the same discussion with Kisha, and she can create almost anything. And you guys can do all that." His hand went up to poke the faerie on his shoulder. "At least you've never tripped over a pile of books you made invisible to pass inspection, or accidentally sent a tractor trailer onto a roof three states over." "I don't watch much television," Jackson admits this sheepish and kind of apologetic. "But maybe I should look 'em up." His smile quirks upwards, kind of crookedly. "No, but I've had my own share'a mishaps. I don't doubt most everyone here has. S'why this place is here. Help people learn to work with what they got, turn it into something you can use 'stead'a something that just gets in your way." "Oh, gosh. When my powers kicked in, I couldn't stop glowing for three days," Alison says, scrunching her nose. "It was terrifying. But then I came here." She lifts a shoulder. "They taught me what I needed to know to make my powers useful." She smiles widely. "Not before I broke the gym, though." She closes one eye, and makes a gun with her fingers, pointing it at the window. "I blew a hole so big in the wall you could walk through it. So, don't knock your powers." She grins. "'Cause you're still...glowing." "If you say so," Faelan said with a sigh before beeping came from his pocket. "Oh, thats my alarm to get going to my next session. Um, it was really nice meeting you and having a chance to talk. Thanks again." He gave the two a smile before he moved forward and bumped into the still invisible desk. "Oh right, um, I should fix that for your next class." He fumbled around until he had his hand set on it and it and it came back into view. "Have a nice day, Ali and Jax." His smile was bright for a moment, before he blushed and was walking towards the door. Jackson returns Faelan's smile, bright and warm. The little fairy sitting on the teenager's shoulder flutters his wings, one brushing against Faelan's cheek -- intangible, it doesn't feel like much save a brief feel of warmth before the fairy vanishes. "You too, Fae. Be seein' you." He pushes away from the counters, starting to circle the room to collect paints and put them away. "-- gosh, but I think that gym's been through more abuse than any gym in the history of high schools." Alison waggles her fingers after the boy. "It was nice meeting you, Faelan," she calls. "I hope we'll meet again." She watches as the boy makes his exit, then turns a smile on Jackson. "Oh, tell me about it," she says. "It's a far cry from toilet paper hung from the basketball hoops and cherry bombs in the toilets, isn't it?" She laughs, and pushes upright, moving to help collect supplies. She works in silence, letting Jackson point out where things go, and eventually, she speaks again. "So, have you been teaching here long?" The cupboards on the wall are quite full, but quite neatly organized; Jackson smiles at Alison for her assistance, pointing out the exact spots for everything to fit neatly back away. "Oh, gosh, /pranks/ here -- y'know my junior year the whole school got turned into an ice castle." This makes him smile. "No, I ain't been -- mm, this is only my second year. When was you here? I ain't never seen -- I mean, s'kinda a tiny school, hard /not/ to know everyone who's here while you are." "Oh, gosh. The pranks here can be /awful/," she agrees, wrinkling her nose. "You should have seen them back in my day. They were something to see." She smiles, putting a jar of paint on a shelf and turning it so the label is facing out. The question gets a thoughtful press of lips. "Wow. I guess it's been about thirteen years since I graduated," she says. "Class of 2000." She lifts a shoulder. "So I was probably well gone by the time you got here." She scrunches her nose as she picks up another jar of paint. "I did a year or so training for field work, but I was itching to start my career." She smiles a bit ruefully. "I had big plans." She's thoughtful a moment, then visibly shakes herself. "Did you graduate from the school?" "Yes'm. Only three years past, though," Jackson admits with a blush. "You still got big plans? I mean, movies, a TV show, sounds like you made some'a them happen." "Just three years back?" Alison murmurs, and she laughs a bit hollowly. "/That/ doesn't make me feel old." It's wry, though, and she shoots Jax a grin. "Oh, I still have big plans," she promises. "I want to take my show national -- be a positive voice for mutants and other human rights issues on a bigger scale than just New York." She grimaces. "Not that there's not a lot of work to be done here," she amends. "But, hopefully, I'm changing some minds and making people's days a little brighter." The use of her show's tag line gets another small grimace that fades immediately back into that smile. "And those movies...those were really not my shining hour. Though I do appreciate the residuals they bring." Her grin now is a bit wicked. "If you really want to see them, I can give you the DVDs. I've got tons." "Good luck with that," Jackson says, and his smile is cheerful but his tone a little wry. "Don't think being a positive voice for mutants is any sorta way to /get/ a national show." He closes the last of the cupboards, leaning to prop is arm against one of the tall tables. "You got hours that /ain't/ shining?" he jokes, lightly amused. "It's all about the charm," Alison says, waving her fingers loftily. "If you can charm people the right way, you can get them to believe most of what you say." She leans back, resting her weight against the table. "But I get your meaning. It's going to be an uphill climb, for sure." The question gets a musical laugh, and she reaches out to place a hand gently on Jax's shoulder. "Oh, my dear. I have had more than my fair share of time in the dark. You have no idea." Then, after a slight squeeze, her hand withdraws. "I think you know as well as I do that light and dark sort of go hand in hand." "Then even more luck to you," Jackson says with a quick smile, "Cuz we need all the positive voices we can get." Beneath her hand his shoulder is waaaarm. Feverishly so, a good deal warmer than most people's. Broad and hard from hours daily in the pool, a touch harder still with a ripple of tension as he shifts to look at her. A long moment. One side of his mouth curls higher, smile lopsided. "Always," is all he says. "You can't have one without the o-ther!" Alison sings lightly, the song lyric accompanied by shimmering eighth notes that bloom and fade around her. "Seriously, though. I'll bring you the DVDs. You'll see what I mean." There's a noise at the door, then, and Alison turns to see a student hanging by the door. "Oh, right. This is Friday. You're advising and stuff this hour, aren't you?" She pushes off the table, and offers a bright grin. "I'll leave you to it, then. But only after you promise to have dinner with me soon, so we can trade war stories." Jackson's smile evens out, brightens, at the shimmering notes. He laughs, scuffing his fingers through his hair. "Soon," he promises easily. "I'm, uh, littlemisssunshine at xaviers. I mean, jholland will get to me /too/ but pfft." /Clearly/ one of these two emails is superior. He curls his fingers in a small wave at Alison. "See you soon, mis -- er. Ali." Alison grins. "Even your email is adorable," she says, and flutters an air kiss at Jackson. "I'll check my book, and send you a message tonight. It was /so nice/ to meet you!" Then she's heading for the door, offering another (literally) bright wave as she goes. The student at the door gets a broad wink and a grin, and then she's gone. A moment later, her voice carries back, from a distance. "Henry! I was just on my way down to see you!" And then the noise of a group of passing students swallows her voice; the closing of the door behind the waiting student seals it away completely. And, just like that, it's back to business as usual at Xavier's.