ArchivedLogs:The Bee-Keeper

The Bee-Keeper
Dramatis Personae Ivan, Peter	2013-03-28 Introducing... the BEE-KEEPER! ('Everybody BEE calm!')
Location <XS> Gardens
From indoor gardens to outdoor, though without the protective greenhouse glass the back gardens do not last all year round. Still, the gardens out here are well-tended and well-worth spending time in, as well. The paths wending through the beds of flowers and herbs and vegetables spread out through the school's back grounds, tended by students as a credit class. Benches offer seating and a small pond is home to koi and turtles, as well as a few frogs. TILL, TILL, TILL, TILL. There is quite a lot of work to be done in preparation for the arrival of Spring; thankfully, there are always disobedient no-goodniks around the school getting themselves in trouble and thereby VOLUNTEERING THEIR TIME AND LABOR to the task! Peter's dressed in loose fitting jeans, a white t-shirt (an old, tattered yellow SMILEY FACE), a dark wind-breaker, and armed with a SPADE. He's using said spade to dig up a few firmly rooted weeds in one of the sections of the Xavier garden; he seems to have been at it for quite some time, with a big plastic sack nearby containing all the collected husks of sinister weeds he's uprooted and thrown away. Up comes another one! Torn out by the roots, he gives it a curious sniff, a 'plegh!', and a toss into the plastic bag. Buzz, buzz. As the bag is rustled, something small and buzzy takes off from the side facing away from Peter. A bee. It's quite early for bees to be out and about, what with a lack of open flowers around, but there it is. And then there is also an Ivan! He comes wandering toward Peter from outside the gardens and past some trees, hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his face. He's dressed in his usual heavy coat, jeans and converse sneakers underneath. There is no greeting even when he is halfway toward his roomie, but then... there are bees. They erupt from behind him, at least a hundred (maybe two!), and they gather up just in front and above him in FORMATION. Spelling out a very clear HI, Their full stops may need some work. *CLNKT* goes the spade, digging deep into soil; Peter sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth as he forcibly /scoops/ out yet another chunk of dirt, a few pieces of gravel -- and then -- bzzbzzbuh? Peter eyes the bee warily, lifting his spade up as if to defend himself from it. But then... Ivan! Peter turns, standing to greet Ivan, spade in hand. At first, he is '(:'. But then, buzzing, and -- 'D:'. And /then/... they start to form a WORD, and -- 'O8<'. The spade drops into the ground with a low *CLNKT*, stabbing into dirt. For a while, Peter is rendered completely /mute/ -- until, at last, he claps both his hands together and exclaims, almost with a squeak: "SPELLING BEES!" Ivan does not know what that MEANS. Well, he does, but the finer points of it are lost on him. He still looks pretty happyabout the part he /did/ get, though! And proud! He picks up his pace and one might say he makes a /beeline/ toward Peter, his new friends in tow! The words they form fall apart into a buzzy mess around Ivan's head. Some of them drop down around his shoulders or in his hair. "Mister Jackson let me have them to practise and I /love them/." They might as well be a basket of kittens and not a seemingly chaotic cloud of stingers and mandibles, the way he says it. Peter /does/ take a step back; he's okay with bugs, but bees... bees have stingers. And oh boy, there's a LOT of them around Ivan right now. But the fact that Ivan seems to be calm helps Peter stay calm despite being at the center of what looks to be swarm central -- his eyes are flicking this way and that, watching the bees buzz about. "Oh man, Ivan you can control /bees/ that's--" And now Peter is thinking. "They're like... different than the bugs you usually control, right? Bees are like -- they're social bugs, I think? Like ants..." "That's /awesome/ jeez I didn't even think of this -- you could, like, be the BEE-KEEPER. That could be your /THEME/, you could make ALL the bee puns!" Peter waves his arms, he is so excited and already imagining Ivan with a big BEE HIVE on his back. And maybe in some sort of terrible bee-themed costume. There's a brief moment when Ivan stops mid-step, a little further away from Peter than he had meant to go. Oh right /bees/. But he relaxes again, perfectly content not to stand /too/ close. It probably helps that, as of yet, none of the bees seem to be doing anything to ring Peter's built in internal dangerbells. Nod nod nod. Ivan is enthusiastic about something for once, and he's enthusasticking pretty hard. The bees seem to reflect this somewhat, buzzing around just a little bit faster as his smile grows at Peter's words and waving and /yay/. "Yes! They listen very well." His eyebrows lower a little, in thought, before he somewhat reluctantly adds, "Maybe I will need your help with bee puns." At the mention of Ivan's need for help with bee puns, Peter puts on a very serious, solemn face. "Abso-/lutely/," Peter says, and now he steps toward Ivan (carefully!) with determination, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder (checking for BEES BEES BEES first). "I will help you, Ivan. I will help you with /all/ the bee puns." Then, still eyeing the swarm that's buzzing around them warily -- clearly fascinated by the way they seem to /respond/ to Ivan's mood -- "You know they have giant bees -- hornets, I think? -- in Japan. Though I think they eat /other/ bees so you probably shouldn't have those. But oh, man, Ivan, nobody would /ever/ mess with a guy who controls a swarm of BEES you could basically just /scare/ bad guys away by just /buzzing/ at them." Then: "Are these the kind that die if they sting you?" Newly reassured that all of the bee puns will be his, Ivan straightens a little. Thanks to Peter, he will be /well prepared/. For what, he does not know yet. But that is not relevant. At the mention of hornets, Ivan's excitement just seems to flare up again. The beecloud expands with it! One or two might thunk into Peter's arm, head-first, only to tumble to the ground. And when the suggestion is made that he could be /scary/? Ivan-- actually does not get very excited because maybe he hadn't considered that before, but it certainly does not impede his :D. It stays even while he nods at Peter's question about bee death. "I do not know how good it would be. You would need a /lot/ of bees. Over a /thousand/." A pause. Not long. Too excite. "/Sometimesasinglebeehivecanhavefortythousandbees/." "ACK!" Peter's danger sense might not be tingling, but the kid's on edge /anyway/; a bee or two whumping into him sends him jumping back a foot. He blinks, but -- hm. HM. Calm down, Peter. He's still a bit tense, eyeing the swarm more warily... when Ivan mentions the number, Peter /blinks/ at him, eyes wide as saucers: "You can... can you /control/ that many?" he asks, and there's an edge of concern in his voice. "Like -- you definitely shouldn't -- /push/ it, you know? Because, like I dunno, what if you lose /control/ and they get angry or something? But -- but it is totally /awesome/ that you can control bees," he quickly amends! "You could even use them to, like, pollinate the gardens and make honey and holy CRAP forty thousand BEES?!" Something sends Ivan's excitement down a notch. But only just that. "I-- am not sure." And he sounds it. He puts his arm up, then, forearm out in front of his chest. The cloud of bees calms, tightens, before the whole lot of them somewhat clumsily come crashing down on that arm to /engulf/ part of it in a single layer of buzz. The ones that tumble off onto the ground rejoin it after he boy's already looking up at Peter again. "I know." His enthusiasm drops another notch at Jackson's words echoing in the back of his mind, but not for lack of truth within them. "Smaller numbers. The hive has nine hundred, but-- I will use two hundred for just now." Oh. OH OH. Ivan PEERS at Peter now, his smile making way for the blank, inquisitve stare of curiosity. "... Can you stand very very still?" Hey, it's Peter. One needs to ask. Peter /stares/ as Ivan's arm becomes... holyCRAP his arm is made of BEES. This is /fascinating/ and Peter is clearly interested in discovering more -- but he doesn't reach out to touch, because oh MAN that is a lot of bees and they seem a bit distracted. But when Ivan mentions controlling smaller numbers, Peter quickly nods -- and then -- oh! Oh, you need him to...? "Uh, yeah, I think so?" Peter says, and then he is standing /very/ still. Or as still as Peter can manage. Which is actually pretty still! "Please do not be scared." Ivan mutters under his breath, his smile slowly coming back, full force. Completely unaware that saying such a thing might have the complete opposite effect on some people. But if it does, it's too late-- with a shake of IVan's arm, the bees detach and start towards Peter. His chest, to be precise. Only to crawl their way upward and toward his face. Relatively uniformly! Only a few of them, stragglers, just fly upward into the air around them instead. Ivan is focusing /very hard/ to make them do it relatively slowly and precise-- if he is successful, Peter will soon be +1 bee beard. At 'please do not be scared', Peter /almost/ moves -- to ask 'scared?'. But that question is instantly /silenced/ as he witnesses the flock of bees buzzing his way. EYES BULGE. But Peter does not move -- save, perhaps, a swelling of the chest as he sucks in a massive /gulp/ of air. Luckily, Peter's started to get attuned to this whole DANGER thing -- so when it doesn't go off, he doesn't completely panic. He is still clearly /very/ nervous, but he is also being /very/ still as those bees crawl up his chest -- up his throat -- for a moment, he wants to /squirm/ because oh my god SO MANY BEE LEGS ON HIS SKIN -- but then... he stiffens, straightens his brows, takes on a very /intense/, solemn look -- and... BEE BEARD. He looks like a Peter-Claus. Except, /BEES/. Slowly, his hands move to his hips, clenched into fists, giving him the classic 'old mountain man' look. The sort of fellow who survives through sheer grit and BEES alone. Also, Peter is absolutely /not/ going to open his mouth because oh God what if they take that as an invitation. Yessss. Ivan looks as though he half expected this to fail, but this fades when Peter strikes a pose. "Good bees." He promptly exclaims, either to Peter or the bees themselves. One by one, the bees start falling again, going airborne halfway to the ground to circle Ivan's form once more. As the bee beard disassembles, Ivan narrows his eyes slightly in what looks to be determination. "I am getting /better/. I enjoy practise." As the last group of bees leaves the lower half of Peter's face, there... might be a pang, ever so slight, ever so tiny, of something triggering Peter's DANGER thing. It's barely noticeable. Then, twice more. Nothing quite happens, however, though Ivan does give a bit of a slow blink. Maybe he has been back behind those trees with these things a little too long, today. Peter feels that faint danger tingle. But it's so... subtle. Just a tiny tingle. He doesn't /jump/, but he stiffens -- his posture shifting into one of defensiveness -- and his eyebrows proceed to /mush/ together, hands clenching into fists. Presuming there are no bees around his mouth, he opens it and speaks -- all the while slowly backing away from Ivan. "...Ivan?" he asks. "Do you -- you /have/ control, right? I'm..." Hairs on his nape prickle. "I think some of your bees are thinking about stinging me." Nn? Ivan blinks once more, somewhat sluggishly. His eyes dart between the bees for a moment, before his gaze lands squarely on Peter's face, smile rapidly vanishing when his friend starts to back away from him. His expression is quickly dominated by what is probably a look of crushing guilt and disappointment all at once. "They /will not/." He attempts to reassure, lifting both hands in front of him as if to illustrate! At once, a few dozen land on his fingers, seeming content just to sit there or clean their little faces. Not stinging! Not even using their little mandibles. But that's just a few dozen, though. The rest of them stay up in the air. Perhaps slightly less coordinated than before, their trajectories perhaps just that little bit wider and /away/ as their circle 'round, taking up more and more space with their flight paths. Peter looks to the bees perched on Ivan's fingers for a moment -- and he seems placated. But then he's looking up to the cloud overhead -- seeing their widening, ever-broadening circuits as they grow less tight, less /focused/ -- and frowns. "Ivan," he says, staring up at /those/ bees, "it'd be okay if I got -- stung, it's not like I'm allergic or anything! But --" His eyes drop back down to Ivan. "Are you okay? You seem... I guess this is taking a lot of concentration, right? Maybe you should give it a break." The bees change their flight paths again-- they sink slightly lower, this time. Lower, and slower. As one of the bees whizzes past Peter's back, he might catch another tiny little danger tingle whizzing past with it. Ivan looks to be having trouble thinking up a response, his mouth opening and closing without something ever having come out of it. His hands drop to his sides, his shoulders with them. Defeated. If he's aware that the bees are misbehaving, he doesn't look too aware of it. When his answer comes, it carries with it a certain reluctance. "... Okay. Maybe it is enough for today." This time it's his turn to back away into the direction he came from, the bees around him following his example with a few seconds delay. He furrows his brow in doubt of something, "But it is good, yes? /Bees/." He offers a weak smile, hopeful, in anticipation of an answer. "Yes!" Peter exclaims, promptly /jumping/ back up into his earlier excitement. "Oh man Ivan /yes/!" he soon adds. "Just -- be careful, okay?" Peter /darts/ forward to give Ivan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Pat, pat. "Because, like -- I mean, you should really take it slow because this is all new and what if the bees can like get into your head and turn you into one of their worker-drones?! You'd be like -- Ivan-drone. All buzzig and working in their hives! And that would be /terrible/ I mean bees are awesome and all but I don't want /you/ to be a bee!" Ivan's stare continues, somewhat blankly. Perhaps he is having trouble imagining himself /in/ a hive, all crammed in between the other bees. But his smile does grow a little more genuine after a few seconds, and for all intents and purposes, he looks to be back to his normal self! The beecloud behind him returns back to its tighter formation. Maybe it was just a small attention hiccup after all. Then, Ivan chuckles-- perhaps the first time he's done such a thing since arriving at the school. It's timid but it's there! "I will not be a bee." He answers, /determined/, if also utterly amused. "Do not worry. It is putting-bees-away time now." He turns, and as he does, the bee cloud starts moving ahead of him, back where they came from. He can't help it, though. Only barely still within earshot, he breathes contently, "Bzz."