ArchivedLogs:Visibility

Visibility
Dramatis Personae Isra, Mallory, Sebastian, Shane, Taylor	2013-07-16 '
Location <XS> Gymnasium - B1
For a mutant school, this is a pretty standard gym, even if its sturdy construction to handle mutant powers is less standard. Still, it is designed along normal lines; setup for a basketball court, standard equipment -- punching bags, rubber mats, standard assortment of balls, weight training equipment, the usual fare. It is large, and as well-appointed as the rest of Xavier's tends to be. Classes haven't finished for the day, yet, really, but in summer session schedules are more /flexible/; many students aren't taking full courseloads. Many teachers aren't teaching full courseloads. Timing is more malleable, with independent studies and free periods and today as classes wind down the gym is already alive with sound even though there are no sports officially in session, the ringing of metal on metal coming from two very /small/ figures all in white in a makeshift lane taped off at one side of the gym. A third figure -- not in white, Taylor is in blue gym shorts and /heavily/ modified Xavier's gym tee to allow for his /wealth/ of tentacles -- is perched nearby on a stack of mats, watching the fluid back-and-forth of the fencers. The muscular youth's eyes flick rapidly, tracking the /very/ swift movements from the pair until after one rapid flurry of lunge-parry there is a touch and, "Halt," one thick tentacle points to the tiny white figure on the left, hands describing a quick series of gestures to mark out the movement series that /led/ to the touch, "point to Shane, score is 5 to 4, take your positions." "Jesus fucking Christ," Shane's voice comes from behind his mask, heavy and stuttering breathlessly; his gills can't be seen beneath his equipment but from the uneven hitch its clear enough they're working rapidly as he turns around to pace back to his starting place. "Fuck, B, you're --" Taylor /snorts/. "/Halt/," he says again, actually stretching out a /looooooong/ tentacle to /pluck/ Shane's foil right out of his hands. Just for a moment, then replace it. "/Yellow/ card, on my left, for turning your /back/ on your opponent." A pause. "-- And unsportsmanlike talk. Score is five to /three/, take your positions." A laugh comes, from the tiny white figure on the /right/. "What the /fuck/," from the left, "oh my fucking /god/ this is the most /bullshit/ --" Shane turns around. /Grumbling/. "If this was a real match," Taylor points out, sooooo lightly, "you'd be kicked /out/, man." Isra emerges from the locker room with a white towel in one hand and a Nalgene bottle in the other, massive wings folded across her shoulders and hanging down like a living gray cape. Her bald, horned head--adorned with a single butterfly bandage--is turned to speak to someone behind her. "...from that point of view, there /is/ an astronomical phenomenon that might be considered 'when the stars come right again'. Still, Lovecraft's focus seemed to have been the sheer vastness of space and time rather than the particulars of planetary movement and parallax as such." Once there is enough space, she unfurls her wings, carrying them close but loosely. There is almost more bandage on her than clothing, though granted her black sport top and dance skirt do not cover much. The fabric tape that serves as her footwear is notably black, but the assortment of bandages--mostly on arms, legs, and wings--are beige or white and stand out starkly against her now grayish skin. The relatively light course load for the summer session has left Mallory with an afternoon open, and the relatively newly arrived librarian has opted for some quality gym time. She emerges from the locker room alongside Isra, nodding her horned head in agreement with her coleague, "I agree that assuming he was speaking in reference to a single phenomenon is a bit limiting, given his overarching themes. Tying it to one particular astronomical event takes away the element of the unknown." Instead of her typical professional attire, Mallory is wearing a pair of dark gray yoga pants that flare out considerably below the knee to accomodate her digitigrade legs without being restrictive of movement, paired with a thin white tank top over a heavy duty black sports bra, intended to keep her otherwise sizable chest in check during exercise. Her hooves are carefully encased in what look like neoprene grippy socks, providing buffer between the sharp hooves and the gym floor. She pauses momentarily in speaking to sip from her own water bottle, looking around curiously at the offerings in the gym, dark eyes lingering curiously on the foul mouthed fencers. Foul mouthed fenc/er/, thank you very /much/. On the /right/, Bastian is the /picture/ of politeness; he obeys etiquette impeccably as he takes his place, makes his crisp salute. Shane salutes, on the left. Sharper. He manages to make the quick flick irritable. He's lunging as soon as Taylor gives the signal. Clang-clang-clang. Sebastian is quicker, his reflexes better honed, he responds to moves almost before Shane even makes them. Shane's form is sharper, better practiced, somewhat less adroit perhaps with his body but moreso with the /foil/. He's less focused than his brother, though; the voices at the door draw his attention; just for a second, a turn of his head that's enough for the next touch to land, enough for the next halt to be called. Enough for his, "Fucking goddamn /cuntwaffle/ --" This devolves a moment later into Vietnamese, though from the tone this is undeoubtedly further invective. Taylor reaches out again. Plucks /both/ the foils this time, in two tentacles. He has tentacles to /spare/, he is rarely short on limbs. "You're done, dude. Get some water. /Chill/." Sebastian pulls his helmet off. His face is pale; he lacks sweat glands so he is not sweating and probably wishes he /were/, he looks kind of peaked. "Sit down," he says in English, and with a glance to the incoming teachers, "{-- leave it to our teachers --}" "Who fucking gives a shit, Lovecraft was as shitty an astronomer as he was at everything else," is all Shane says, kind of grumbled, once he takes off /his/ helmet, starts to peel out of his white suit; underneath his clothes are form-fitting, black short-sleeved shirt, black shorts. "I can understand the dramatic utility of leaving the specific phenomena unnamed, but I was rather disappointed when I found out his stories had little to do with space and more to do with fear. This is why I read so little fiction now." Isra turns around and watches the twins finish their match, her face impassive and green eyes blinking rarely. Her tail, however, whips the air rhythmically with a mind of its own. When they have divested themselves of helmets, she approaches. "Good day, Sebastian, Shane. Have you met our new librarian?" This last she says with a tilt of her head in Mallory's direction. Mallory shakes her head, offering in her "Lovecraft is just one author out of many, and by no means the best. Or the worst. I can offer some suggestions on less fear mongering authors, depending on your taste in genres." She offers a slight smirk, doing little to hide the elongated canine, "It is, after all, part of my job description." Moving beside Isra to approach the fencing lane, Mallory stands quietly, dark eyes merely observing the pair, tapered tail lashing almost in time with Isra's. "I believe I have met Shane, previously, however I have not yet made the acquaintance of Sebastian," Mallory says, her accent Oxford in origin, letting an easy smile pass over her features, although the expression does little to soften the jet black eyes or hide the pointed teeth. The twins, at least, match jet black eyes for jet black eyes, enormous and pupilless to dominate their pixie-thin faces. Probably win on pointy teeth, as Shane grins bright and sharky in answer to Isra's question, "Yeah. We've met," he answers with kind of /fierce/ cheer, "and no, I can pick my own fucking books, thanks." He stretches his head, one side to the other; beneath fencing gear also he has a wide strip of collar, fabric with a metal heart buckled at his throat and a thick silver D-ring at the back of his neck, striking in deep crimson against blue skin. Sebastian is stripping out of his fencing gear, too; he matches his brother underneath as well in black shirt and black shorts. "Good afternoon," he greets, more quietly with a small dip of his head. "No, ma'am, we haven't." He shoots his brother a quick look, nudges him with an elbow before stepping forward to offer his hand to Mallory. "Hi. I'm Bastian. I've seen you around but I've -- been kind of busy to stop in the library much," he admits this with a slightly darker-blue flush, a bashful dip of eyes like this is a /shameful/ admission. Behind them, putting foils away in cases, Taylor snorts. "Thaaaat'll change when fall comes." Isra suppresses a very slight smile at Shane's declaration. "Much to your English teachers' chagrin, I am sure. But as much as I prefer hands-on learning, even I assign /some/ reading for astronomy. I hope this will not deter you in the fall." Then she looks at Sebastian and shakes her head. "I do not think anyone is expecting you to spend the break /studying/, though I have no doubt you are studying in your own manner all the same." There is a faint twinge of sadness in her eyes, then anger, then calm again. "You are...working for the summer, yes?" Mallory arches a well manicured eyebrow at Shane's reaction, chuckling lightly, "Fair enough, in your spare time. But I do expect at least glancing at the assigned reading if you take my English classes." She smiles cheerily at Sebastian, accepting his handshake, her hand soft but reasonably strong, and decidedly warm to the touch, "Pleasure to meet you, Bastian. And it is quite alright, I rather expected the library to be quieter than normal over the summer. It will most certainly still be there when you have time." She offers a friendly grin towards Taylor at his comment, offering a slight shrug. "Actually, Shane really likes --" Sebastian starts, but stops this time with a faint blush, a glance at his brother. /His/ webbed hand in contrast is decidedly /cooler/ than most people's, a strong contrast to Mallory's warmth. "Pfft," Shane chuffs, shakes his head, "what classes do you teach, I'll make sure to fucking skip them. I don't do shitall for assigned -- whatever." "You do Professor al-Jazari's homework," Sebastian contradicts quietly. Shane hooks up at a smile at this. "Hers has telescopes in. -- Bastian's been studying like a motherfucker," he adds to Isra, and for all /his/ professed lack of interest in studying, he says this of his /brother/ with some pride. "I've been working," Bastian agrees quietly, with another blush, "but I have classes, too." "You know Dr. Saavedro's genetics class is like, fucking college level? /And/ he's working at Stark. I don't know why you even bother with fucking high school, dude." Shane wanders a short ways away to grab a water bottle, take a deep swig. "-- Because," Sebastian says a little bit uncomfortably, "what college would take me?" Uncomfortable fades into a quick smile, warmer. "I'm there kind of a lot," he tells Mallory, "it's just been hard to balance work and classes. What classes /will/ you be teaching, ma'am?" "That is excellent!" Isra replies, her smile easy and unguarded, fangs flashing. "By the way, I aim to start an astronomy club next semester. We will be /building/ telescopes, among other things. The workshop is magnificent and I cannot find enough excuses to use it. If there is enough interest in it, we may be able to get advanced astronomy onto the curriculum." She shrugs, wings flaring, then dipping. "And Bastian...do not write off higher education just yet. I am not; if I have to fight for it, I will." She does not sound uncertain in the least that she will have to do so. Mallory looks at Shane with an amused smirk on her face, tail lashing slightly in agitation, "Basic English Language and Composition, as well as more advanced classes in specific topics on literature. The advanced class for next semester is Shakespeare, likely to focus on the comedies, unless I'm told otherwise." The librarian smiles happily, apparently excited at the thoguht of teaching. Pausing thoughtfully, she shifts her weight, offering a nod to Sebastian, "Do not give up on continuing education. It isn't necessarily pleasant or easy, given the current climate, but it is possible." She glances sidelong at Isra before answering, "I made it through to a masters degree, and my brother attained his doctorate earlier this year. It is not impossible." "The workshop's kind of like heaven," Sebastian's smile is quick and warm. Guarded, though, /he/ keeps his teeth carefully hidden. "-- Oh, wow, /building/ telescopes, I'm /so/ there. Shane, you are, too. It's kind of incredible what we could actually make ourselves, you know." Shane tilts his head to the side, considering. "-- I know you could make Dobsonians with just. Not that much equipment but I guess equipment's not even much issue with the tools in the workshop." Interest fades into just narrowed eyes, though, as he watches Mallory, attention flicking from lashing tail up to her face. "Yeah?" His hairless ridged brows raise. "And what exactly did you have to do to get those degrees?" "Dobsonians are fine and good," Isra agrees, "but with the resources available here, I have full confidence that we could manage more ambitious designs, Maksutovs and the like." She looks at Shane and sighs. "You know what /I/ did to get through undergrad and my Master's program. I would do it no more even if I /could/, but Columbia finally did kick me out." Her ears press back, and she stands up a little taller. "I am still not giving up." Eyes flick very briefly to Mallory, then to Sebastian. "I hope you do not, either." The talk of telescopes is largely lost on the librarian, and she fidgets, shifting her weight from one leg to the other as she stands, listening politely to the conversation. The question about what she had to do to get those degrees gets a slight flush, and she sighs, running a hand over one smooth black horn, "I am not proud of what I had to do. I hid, but I hid because I refused to be denied my education due to the circumstances of my birth. When possible, I took classes remotely." Her tail wraps defensively around one leg, the tip twitching, "It was uncomfortable, yes. But, well, I was willing to go through it for the chance to get out, to get my education. I'm planning on applying to Columbia in the spring, because I intend to get my doctorate, one way or another." "Great. Fucking hide. Pretend to be human. Deny who you are so -- what. They give you a piece of paper that still doesn't help with jackshit because the /world's/ still not going to hire you unless you want to keep fucking hiding your whole goddamn life." Shane's smile curls upward, bright and toothy-sharp. "Or come live here forever. But that's just a different kind of hiding, isn't it." He gulps at his water, grabs his fencing uniform to hug it to his chest, and thunks the water into Sebastian's hands. "S'not you, B. -- {It shouldn't,} has a fierce defensive /anger/ to it, "{have to be.}" He turns to head towards the door. Sebastian exhales slowly, taking the water to drink, long and deep. "Good luck," is what he chooses to say, very light, very mild, a small polite smile still on his face. "Both of you. I really hope Columbia -- well. I hope it works out. For both of you. I should -- sorry." His head dips, half a nod, half a bow, and he gathers his things, too, looking apologetic before he turns to follow his brother out. "Thank you, Bastian, but luck isn't what we need," Isra replies evenly, inclining her head. Looking back at Mallory. "We need visibility. Come on, I can show you the compatible exercise equipment." Mallory runs a hand along one horn and down her long black ponytail, sighing slightly as the two students leave, her face a mix of dissapointment and exasperation. "Visibility. If nothing else, we've got that in droves," she sighs quietly to Isra, tail twitching in agitation, "Alright. Onward, to the exercise equipment. Because I'm the only one I'll be letting down if I screw that up royally, too."