ArchivedLogs:Unicorn Unicorn Unicorn!

Unicorn Unicorn Unicorn!
Dramatis Personae Ruth, Kris, Peter	2013-06-04 (warning: unicorn)
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. At the far back edges of the garden, a droning buzzing marks a few stacked white boxes as beehives. Kris has her feet dangling in the pond right now, alright. Clad in denim shorts of some sort, she wears her favorite pastel blue 'My Little Pony' shirt containing the infamous 'Rainbow Dash'. Perhaps, though, dangling is a strong word. Mostly, she's just splashing about in the pond, trying to catch turtles, because... Well... that's what interests her right now. A small backpack sits next to the pound, STUFFED with all kinds of sweets, sodas, and drinks, while in her shirt pocket sits her beat up iPod. She only has one earbud in right now, and is currently singing along with it. A new student arrived today! Morning was taken with unpacking, the afternoon with determining class schedule and meeting with her advisor. Now Ruth has been set loose. Free to roam. Explore her new surroundings. This leads her out of doors. Her cloven hooves pick carefully over the path and then sink into grass and loam. If she had toes, she'd probably wiggle them with relief to be back on fresh lawn. She's wearing an oversized dress shirt altered into a dress, the belt some sort of Mexican patterned cloth, with a tiny purse strung diagonally over her chest. One hand is cupped protectively over the purse as she roams, careful progress eventually leading her towards the pond. Greetings are on a delay: /first/ she studies Kris at length, expression solemn, and then she says, "Hello." THWP. Somewhere above. On the roof of the garden, Peter lands. Crouches. Watches. And /broods/. Like real superheroes are supposed to. He's been practicing, you see. Maybe not hard enough -- the bright red hoodie he's wearing kind of, uh, stands out. As do the blue jeans. And the two-toed socks. Also standing out is the chitinous black face beneath that hood -- and the unusual looking sleek wrist-watches he wears. Nevertheless, he does his best to play the sneaky sneak, lingering high above the two girls as they meet. Watching. Somewhere in the depths of Peter's mind, a monologue begins: 'Chicken carcass in cafeteria this morning, burn marks on breast meat. This school is afraid of me. I have seen its true face...' Kris starts to turn when she is spoken to, pulling her remaining earbud from her ear to offer a friendly,"Hello-" in that raspy, deep-ish voice of hers... Then she SEES Ruth. Who knows if she ever even saw Peter, sneaky as he is. She's a little paranoid and a little crazy sometimes about stuff like that... But then... Peter is kind ninja, too. What her reaction might have been for the young 'Spider-Ninja' if she HAD seen him will go forever unknown. Why? Because when Kris SEES Ruth, she drops the turtle she was holding back into the pond and 'SQUEEEES'. A moment later, she comes splashing out of the lake, shaking her algae-covered hands free of gook, then offers her hands to the girl to shake,"Oh. My. God. No way. You're, like, super-pretty! My name's Kristen, you can call me Kris." Likewise, Ruth misses Peter's arrival because no one ever /really/ looks up without cause and she has no cause. Not when there's a giant girl making weird noises and rushing at her with jazz hands. That's /much/ more important, so far as noticing goes. She rocks back on one hoof, eyes going wider under her horn. But...she doesn't flee? That's a good sign. A positive sign! Maybe it's the design on Kris' shirt, or the compliment, or who knows, maybe she was taught to never run away from an introduction. Whatever the reason, she stills herself...but doesn't take that offered hand. Instead, she says with a thick Spanish accent, "Hello, Kris. My name is Ruth. You are very kind." Peter's eyes narrow on top of that ledge. Watching. Waiting. Because crime... never sleeps. War... never changes. And -- ohmy/GOD/ does that girl have HORSE FEET? HOLYCRAP she does! And... Ohmy/GOD/ is that a HORN sticking out of her head, OHMYGOD IS SHE A UNICORN?! And-- Descend! Whump. Landing on the ground promptly, Peter starts striding over! Tugging his hoodie down, to expose that full, chitin-clad head. "Oh. My. God. Look at you! Your fur is soooo pretty, and so is your horn, and oh-my-god, you have the best eyes, I am so jealous. And look at that purse, it's to die for!" Babblebabblesquee. Kris goes on like that for a minute or two gushing compliments. When she realizes the girl isn't taking her hand, though, she puts it back down,"Oh my god. Look at me asking like a derpus! Can I offer you a snack!" Oh wait. It's Peter. "Hey, love the hair, Peter. It's workin' for you. Come meet my new friend Ruth!" Ruth just got friendjacked by Kris. "Ruth! De donde eres? De Estados Unidos? Estados Unidos Mexicanos?" So. Many. Compliments. Ruth stands frozen beneath them. Maybe compliments are her kryptonite? She swings a glance at Peter as if to check on whether this is normal operating procedure around here and--yes, yes, he is getting a compliment too. So that's all right. She relaxes visibly, the restless flick of her tail settling and both hooves planting square against the ground. Still no handshake! Too busy clutching her purse! But she brightens--literally, little horn pulse of color--when Kris begins to speak her language. {My parents are from Mexico but I was born in Amarillo. In Texas. Are you from...here?} "My hair? Oh," Peter says, reaching up to brush his hair back, as if puzzled, as he walks up behind Ruth -- caaaarefully circling around to her front, as if worried about /spooking/ her. Maybe because she's new! And who knows, maybe that horn is for goring. "Hey," he adds, giving Ruth a wave, all CASUAL like. "M'Peter. I like the horn," he informs her, a moment later, before glancing to Kris. "...you speak Spanish?" Surprised! Back to Ruth. "You're new here, right? I don't think I've seen you before -- uh. Most of the people here get to know each other." Sheepish grin. Kris puts her hands down and clasps them behind her back, offering a polite bow. {No, no. I'm a filipina. I'm afraid I'm not from this country at all. Cebu city, to be exact. Amarillo... Is that very far from here? Texas. Yes, that is far, if I recall right?} As to Peter? "Yeah. A lot of pinays do. Tagalog uses a lot of words from spanish, even though it's still a different language entirely. Also, church-Latin and a little bit of classical Arabic... The Moro needed us to be able to 'praise Allah' properly. I hated religious instruction back in the camps." She makes a face at that. She informs Ruth,{Peter is a little strange, but he's cute, and he's a nice boy. One of the most trustworthy people here. Getting to know him, it's a good thing.} Closer up, Ruth finds more reason to study Peter. He's...shiny. Shockingly so. She isn't spooked but she does shift restlessly again to keep him directly in front of her, head turned to give him a bit of the side-eye. It is strongest when he mentions the horn, prompting her hand to flicker-quick touch the base, hidden beneath her bangs. "Hello, Peter, I am Ruth. I am new. Yes. Mister Kurt Wagner invited me to come to school. Con los mutantes, si? Personas que son como tu...like you. Amarillo is very far. I have met no one but you," she says with a head-dip for the pair. "{Is it very green in Cebu City?} "...pinays? Tagalog? Moro--oh wait you told me what that one was," Peter stops himself, suddenly. "Sorry, just. /Man/ I don't even know where you're from. Uh, sorry. I should probably -- uh, look that stuff up." The chitin that coats Peter's face has a way of /sparkling/ in direct sunlight; his clothes are loose fitting, and aim to cover as much of him as possible -- probably /because/ of that. The effect of it is like light swirling across petroleum; now, when he flushes, the swirls darken to a shade of glittering violet. "Oh Professor Wagner, yeah, he's awesome. Y'know, he can /teleport/? He also sword-fights. And swashbuckles. He swashes the /best/ buckles," Peter announces -- quite cheerfully! Kris examines the girl with a long, careful look. Assessing? Pervy? Fangirly? Hard to tell when she does that 'far-away' expression of hers. "I think this is a good place for you. Professor Wagner is an amazing man." As for Greenery? {Cebu City is very green on the outskirts. It's in Central Visayas. There are jungles and mountains all over the place. I spent much time in the jungles.} Then she's nodding at Peter,"Pinays are what we call women from the Philippines like myself. Tagalog is our language." "Swash...buckles. I am very sorry, I am not knowing the word." But it doesn't trouble her. Ruth is watching Peter as if fully expecting him to clarify. He has to, he's being so /friendly/. Maybe this is a test of whether Kris was right about him being a good person to know. Everything is easier in Spanish. Even her posture changes when she shifts back to that language to address the other girl. "{Jungles! I would love to see jungles. In Amarillo it was all desert, so dusty and dry. Here, I can walk and it is like listening to song, the brightness in the grass,}" she says, scuffing one pearly hoof over the lawn--and provoking a sudden lushness in its growth, blades stretching up to tickle the feathering around her ankles. "/Oh/," Peter responds to Kris, "I see. /Okay/. That makes -- uh, I thought. Tagalog was like. /Tagalong/. Like some sort of. Weird, uh. Game." His eyes immediately drift from left to right, as if he is attempting to find something with which to hide himself behind. At the mention of Ruth not knowing what swashbuckles are, though, Peter just /grins/, his brief flicker of embarassment forgotten. "Oh, /dude/. Swashbuckling is like -- having adventures. On ships. Where you fight pirates. Or you /are/ the pirates," Peter adds, suddenly thoughtful. "I'm actually not sure. Anyway, it's having adventures and being a snappy dresser and fighting against zombie pirates. Or maybe that's Johnny Depp. Johnny Depp swashbuckles, right?" He's asking Kris this. At the sudden growth of grass, Peter's eyes snap down, peering. "Ohwhooaaaa," and now he's on the ground, like some /BOY/ who's crouching down to inspect an icky little slug that's crawling on a leaf. "You make /grass/ grow." {Oh, they are very pretty but also extremely dangerous! Many predators, funguses, poisons, and other dangers. Even the plants can kill you. Unlike in some places, things that look good to eat are frequently very bad for you. It is not easy to survive there. Pretty. But dangerous. There are also many dangerous humans there as well. You do not go into the jungle alone unless you KNOW.} That draws another sad, distant look for her. But Kris continues the next part in english for Peter's benefit,"Well... swashbuckling is more directly SWORDFIGHTING. So I suppose it is very adventurous. Usually applied to pirates. Johnny Depp HAS swashbuckled before, I suppose." The growth of the grass? It has her leaning down to run her fingers through it. Her eyes practically sparkle as she says,"You are so very awesome. Peter, where is your boyfriend? He should meet her too! I think he would like her!" Ruth...might not get it. There is chattering and she's nodding but comprehension isn't a certain thing given the uncertain look on her face. To everything Peter has to say, she says, "I can not swim." Therefore, there is to be no pirating for her. But she will happily sit back on her haunches while everyone checks out the lawn, crouching down awkwardly with her backwards legs. "{I like plants. They speak to me,}" she says first to Kris, before repeating the sentiment in English for Peter. "Grass. Plants. They talk. These ones says walk here, they says soft and green and bright." Her hand skims over the blades and they follow it, like the sun. "No danger. Just the growing. Who is Johnny Depp?" Peter's violet /intensifies/ when Kris refers to Shane as his 'boyfriend'. He makes no move to correct the sentiment, though. "Uh I'm not sure. I think -- we're gonna head down to, um, visit Anole, with Jackson -- s'probably getting ready for that." He's still inspecting the grass that just decided to /sprout/ around Ruth's hoof; as she explains, his head lifts up, eyebrows pinching together tightly. Watching as she crouches and strokes the grass, and -- it /moves/. "...huh. Plant telepathy. That's -- /huh/," he begins, before adding: "Johnny Depp's a pirate. Fights ghost pirates." Kris flops down on the ground as well to drag fingers through the grass like she's stroking a pet,"It's so plush and pretty. Look at what you did! You should visit the conservatory sometimes... Bobby tends to wilt it pretty heavily. No respect for the gardens. {I was not aware beings without central nervous systems could form language. Or is it different than that? What do they sound like?} She reaches out to poke at Peter,"You should get him to take you out to eat for a romantic evening." She informs Ruth,"His boyfriend appreciates a good meal." "Ghost pirates. Dead...pirates? I see." Ruth watches Peter's color shifting for a moment, too restrained to appear fascinated but too fixated to be anything else. She continues to pet the lawn too the way some might a cat. It appears to approve. "It is a sound like...like singing? No voices. But singing, yes. A...mmm, like the sound bees make. Soft. A happy sound. No talking. Grass has no words." But the motion of her hand stills as she looks between the two. After a moment, she reaches up to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "...you have...you are with a boy?" Being poked, Peter's violet goes to indigo. "I -- um. I don't. He wouldn't, I mean -- I don't think --" Peter is suddenly /deeply/ interested in the blades of grass he was inspecting previously. "--ghost pirates," Peter decides, nodding quickly to Ruth. Nod, nod. When she describes what the grass sounds like, Peter's eyebrows shoot up. "...do other plants have words?" And then, when Ruth brings up -- oh. Peter's eyes widen; any hope of him coming out of indigo country seem to be rapidly fading. "I, um. Mean. Uh -- kind of. He's -- a shark," Peter offers, as if by way of explanation. Kris nods ever so slowly,"I see... like singing. Even a song with no words can have meaning. Like classical music that is meant to sound like rain or bring to mind the spring..." Pause. "Yes. He is. They're a very cute couple. I... is that a problem? If it is, I think you're going to have an even bigger problem with me." She frowns a little bit, then looks back at Peter,"I was planning a paintball outing soon. Are you in, Peter?" "No words, with plants. It is..." It is hard for Ruth to find the words too! She settles for twiddling her fingers near her temple--it is all in her head. Then she is rising, pulling away from the lawn while her tail lashes whiplike against her ankles. After a moment's fumble, an inhaler is pulled from her purse, tucked between her teeth. One squeeze, a whoosh, and she breathes out slowly. Kris and Peter both receive a solemn regard afterwards. "It is very different here. That is all." "...ohmyGod. Look, this is just, terribly awkward," Peter tells Kris, mopping at his face, which is still burning dark indigo. "I mean I GUESS I should just get over it, but -- paintball?" His head pops up, a moment, peering at her. "...I like paintball. Uh. It might be kind of unfair though I mean I will basically kick everyone's butt." Then, to Ruth, as she mentions -- well, as she twiddles her fingers to her temple. And lashes her -- ohmy/God/ she has a tail! Peter is watching it, now, as it swishes, back and forth. Swish, swish. Back to her face: "Oh yeah, no, it is /so/ weird, I mean it is -- totes baa-nay-nay, complete bizarro-ville, place is double-cray to the izzay," Peter informs her, with a completely straight face. "Just, /weird/. Uh. You get used to it though." Kris looks over at the girl, eyes wide,"Oh. My. God. Are you okay? Oh, I'm over-exiciting you. I should be leaving you alone so you can acclimate, huh?" As for Peter and paintball? "I don't know about that, Peter. Everyone has different talents and some of us have experience with the real thing, too. Besides, fun is fun." Then again, the boy can 'dizz-odge'. "Peter. From now on, you are banned from making your own slang up. I'm... I'm mildly sure someone somewhere might consider it racist or offensive. Possibly. I'm not always sure what you're saying." Ruth shakes her head, hair swinging around her face. It's a motion that prompts another glasses-push. "I am fine, is just medicines," she says while she hides the inhaler away again. "I...izzay?" Oh god, he's talking foreign! Even Kris' support, her noting the indecipherable nature of Peter's speech, doesn't entirely help. "I think I am going inside? I have room. Bed. To fold." This could be the unicorn version of "I have to wash my hair", maybe. "Thank you for talking. Kris. Peter." "...wha? What's wrong with my slang? My slang is off the hot-diggity-dawg," Peter says, nose /scrunching/. "Oh, okay," Peter responds, to Ruth, rolling back a bit to hop to his feet. "S'nice meeting you! Uh, maybe I'll see you in -- summer classes. If you're taking them," he adds. Kris nods emphatically at Ruth,{I am sorry I upset you. Come by my room later? I'll cook something for you or share some candy. I want to see more of your clothes. They're so colorful!} Also, possibly share her unicorn collection. Then she eyeballs Peter,"Your slang sounds like a white boy trying to act 'street'. Just... no. You are more charming when you science."