Logs:Camp Counselors

Camp Counselors
cn nazi mention
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Heather, Isra
In Absentia	2019-08-21 "Politics and money help make things make less sense."
Location <BOM> Common Room - Bom Lodge
The common room's rustic-lodge feel has been somewhat mitigated by the modern amenities inside its sturdy wooden walls. It has comfortable couches, several chairs, a refrigerator (stocked with snacks and drinks!), a pool table, a pinball machine (METALLICA!), an assortment of books, a television -- with several game systems! -- and a splendid view out the windows (when their lacy yellow curtains are drawn open) for the rest of the island. The pale wood floors have been covered in places -- by a pair of soft thick blue rugs, by a large squishy pair of beanbags that stand in front of the stone fireplace. There's also a board up on the wall, half corkboard, half whiteboard, with a variety of community notes (and occasional insults) to other Brotherhood members. Large doors on the right-hand side lead off to the kitchen and dining room. In the back of the room, the council room's heavy oak door bears solid locks that are almost never actually barred. A short hall adjacent to the council room's door leads to a trio of multi-stalled bathrooms; these might once have been marked with the typical man-woman-handicapped signs, but someone has given them new plaques on the door; a stick figure with horns and a long tail, one with wings. One -- the large single-user toilet -- has instead been given a helmet and a cape. Outside it's kind of sweltering; the storm that passed through last night did little to depress the temperature but has left things extremely muggy. The windows of the common room are thrown open wide all the same, a light breeze fluttering the lacy curtains and a large box fan assisting the overhead one in keeping the room a livable climate. Dusk is sprawled out on the couch, in jean shorts and no shirt, his laptop open on the floor beside him. He's not paying the laptop much attention at the moment, though some process or other is running in the open terminal; instead while he waits for that to complete he has turned his attention to the television. PlayStation controller in hand, he's at the moment guiding a floating girl through a forest of thorns, the game on the screen drawn in a whimsical fairytale-illustration style. Isra is sprawled in the opposite direction as Dusk on the floor in front of the couch, her head pillowed on his knee. Her laptop is also open, ostensibly to some manner of Work, but she is mainly watching his video game. She wears a lightweight pink linen sundress, and her skin is its usual slate gray but for a faint pearlescence, her horns and talons gleaming like hematite. Heather has recently opted to upgrade her ensemble. Or at least, her goggles: her swim goggles have been upgraded to purple tinted ski goggles with a yellow rim around them, reflective so her eyes aren’t visible and clearly sitting much more comfortably on her face despite covering more of it. Otherwise, her outfit is (for her) unremarkable. A t-shirt with pastel blue, yellow and red in a swirl and a pair of pants with geometric yellow, red, green and purple triangles on it, and her messenger bag rests at her hip. Her abrupt presence also brings with it a certain amount of cool breeze swirling around her, though it ends up being much less sustained than the box fan. She gives a general wave, and her jerky gaze turns towards the TV and she actually does pause for a few seconds and lifts the goggles to her forehead. “What is this? It looks pretty.” "Pretty? Uh, I'm just trying to pinpoint the location of..." Dusk begins in some confusion, before backtracking with a small duck of head. "Oh right you mean the game. Child of Light. It's gorgeous. Very relaxing. Good for playing on little sleep. I think I'm on a quest to find this person's brother, they were off in the circus together? It seems like a circus would be easy to spot." He rubs his cheek against the throw pillow he's leaning on. "Nice goggles." One of Isra's wings--the one not occupied in propping her upright--mantles out somewhat automatically at the breeze that Heather brings in, and she emits a pleased rumble almost too quiet to hear. "I admit I have not paid a great deal of attention to the plot," she adds to Dusk's explanation, "but I expect that the circus in question is magical." She turns to regard Heather. "Done with work today, or just dropping by for some relief from..." Her wingtip gestures accusingly in the direction of the mainland. Heather puts her hand up on the edge of her goggles in a kind of pose at receiving the compliment, and flashes a small smile at their being noticed. Her recorder plays, “Thank you. They were a good find. My old ones leave red marks around my eyes. These ones are also cooler.” She leans forward against the back of the couch. “A magical circus would be good. There are probably magical clowns at it. They should be hard to miss.” She nods a couple of times quickly and confirms, “Getting away. I still have some work. But it is work that can be done on my laptop. And it is not urgent.” "So we're kind of all just playing hooky then." Dusk sounds cheerfully unconcerned about the work they're respectively shirking, though he does glance briefly back to his own laptop. "Do you mean less hot or more awesome? I can definitely tell they're one of those." He's entered into a battle screen -- at least one of the members of his party does look very like a magical clown, in an elaborate jester outfit as she tumble-attacks the shadowy bird they're fighting. He grimaces -- at his game or the computer, it's hard at first to say. A stretch of wing, a tap of claw against the keys; he reaches out to pass his controller off to Heather as he pulls the computer closer. "I have not altogether forsaken my work," Isra protests mildly, the tip of her tail twitching against the floor. "But moderating discussion threads full of scientists can prove...tedious, at times." She studies the turn-based battle sequence, then cranes her neck around to peer at Dusk's screen. "Have you got something?" “You are moderating science?” Heather's interest in Isra's work is cut off at seeing the offered controller. She opens her mouth slightly and mouths ‘oh!’ at the battle screen and the magical clown. She carefully takes the controller from Dusk, treating it delicately. “They are cool in the awesome sense. They are not very cool in the heat sense. But heat does not bother me much.” Her gaze remains on the game, but her recorder pauses and then continues to play after a blur of motion. Her hand soon goes back to gently trying out inputs on the controller to help win the battle. “What are you looking for and slash or finding?” "What is science arguing about today?" Dusk slouches further on the couch, draping himself off of it, chin resting against the edge of the cushion so that he can look down at the laptop on the floor. "Eugh," he gives in answer, his brows rumpling. "Just a boatload of fucking Nazi chatter. Did you know they're planning a -- uh, hate... camp. Like a summer camp for learning how to murder. That's just a thing that happens these days, I guess." "Resuming telescope operations of the less-than-thirty-meter variety on Mauna Kea." Isra's expression is blank and unimpressed as she scrolls down the page. "Astronomers are pleased, certainly, but our collective sense of entitlement is showing." She eyes skip back to the battle on the screen. "I believe such camps have existed for many years, but in the past those involved have tended to feel some need to maintain a certain level of secrecy, which in turn limited attendance." “There are other telescopes there? I only read about the big one. Can they not use a different mountain? Seems easier,” says Heather, her gaze still on the screen, though her eyebrows furrow just slightly while her recorded voice continues. “Hate camp? To learn to hate better? They seem good at hate already. They would benefit more from ‘go into the woods and die’ camp. Whatever the opposite of wilderness survival is.” "Yeah, I think there's like a dozen already?" Dusk looks to Isra for confirmation. "And I think they're real good at hate but want to refine their murdering skills. There's a lot of talk about --" Dusk looks at his screen, then frowns. "Well, they don't really like us much. Or Jews. Or black people or..." He shakes his head quickly. "We could probably turn it into a go into the woods and die camp, for them." "Thirteen, yes." Isra pulls her free wing back in, settling it loosely across her body, thumbclaw hooked gently over the opposite shoulder. "And they can use a different mountain--they're mainly insisting on that site because of politics and money." She twists around and peers at Dusk's screen when he breaks off. "That is an excellent notion, Heather. I think we ought to make it happen." "Thirteen?" repeats Heather, before she decides, "Politics and money help make things make less sense." She shakes her head quickly and crosses one of her legs behind the other as she leans in further towards the television screen, her light frame not even threatening to nudge the couch while she is not in active motion. She glances down to Dusk's screen for a few seconds and adds, "Agreed. We would make good camp counselors."