Logs:Make Life Easier

Make Life Easier
Dramatis Personae Naomi, Nessie
In Absentia	2020-09-24 “Like, what’s that thing. Empathizing or whatever.” (Part of Final Boss: Xavier TP)
Location <XAV> Music Room - Xs Second Floor
Wide and spacious, seating in this soundproofed room comes largely on the sweep of gentle risers that afford the teacher an easy view of all the budding performers, and add another dimension to the acoustics of the room. Instruments of all types are carefully stored around the room, and a grand piano, immaculately upkept, takes the position of prize near the back. In a nod to the eclectic studies of the students, digital mixing equipment and turntables rub shoulders with the classical instruments. Music stands sit in front of most of the seats, and the only windows look out out over the side of the school grounds. There are only a few other students in here now, band practice having long since concluded. Naomi hasn’t seemed to notice though- she’s parked by the snare drums, drumsticks held in a vicelike grip. There is sheet music in front of her, and ever few beats she pauses and squints at it, mouthing “one e- an-a two e-an-a” over to herself as she practices in the air. Then, back to the drums, trying to get the hang of moving her wrists the right way. She hasn’t seemed to notice the sweat forming on the edge of the field of scales on her forehead. With the drums going, it might be easy to miss the quiet opening of the door, the soft clickskitter of many chitinous feet against the hard floor. It's probably a lot less easy to overlook Nessie, large and long, huge tail waving like a dark barbed flag overhead. She clutches a netbook against her chest (PROPERTY OF XAVIERS says a label affixed to its lid) and is dressed only in a faded old tie-dye tee. Click-click, click-click; she scurries closer, then hesitates, crouching lower on her legs as she watches Naomi play. Her fingers tap lightly against the cover of the netbook, keeping time with the rhythm that's been going. The stick hits oddly, the sound seeming flatter than the rest of the beat. Naomi stops suddenly and chucks the sticks at the music stand. “Damn it!” She yells, then sighs and stands up to right the whole thing. She stops suddenly as she notices Nessie in her peripheral. “Woah.” Then- “don’t tell Maya I threw the sticks again. Please.” She grins, but there is a nervous energy around her. Nessie's arms stay hugging her borrowed laptop, but a third arm -- this one more jointed, tipped in a sharp pincer instead of another hand -- emerges from beneath the hem of her shirt to draw a small x in the air over her chest. "Cross my heart," she promises brightly. "They probably have like a million sticks here anyway, right? I'm pretty sure the Professor has eleventy jillion dollars. Is that frustrating? It looks fun. Banging things." Naomi laughs a little at the gesture, her eyes focused on the third arm for a moment longer than is polite. “Ain’t a million no more,” she says. “I’ve broken a few but there’s a guy in here made outta rocks who plays bass drum. He goes through one set per class minimum.” She laughs again, putting the music stand back and tucking the sticks under her arm. “It is fun. I just wanna be better at it.” A pause. “You looking for someone?” "Oh yeah you!" Nessie chirps, but then reconsiders: "I think you. I mean, maybe you? I think you. You're Naomi, right? You were -- Oh, wait, oh nooo, I'm doing this all wrong, I'm sorry!" Now her other pincer-arm emerges, both of them waving small and jittery in the air in front of her before folding again. She straightens up taller (which, on her armored stilt-legs, puts her -- kind of towering over Naomi); almost immediately reconsiders and crouches back down near to the floor (and a more regular-tall-teenager height). Draws in a breath, puts on a small smile and a Very Professional voice. "Hi, I'm Nessie, I'm writing an article for the newspaper. We've heard some concerns among the student body about some overreach from the administration in the field of telepathy and wanted to get input from some of you who were taking -- action on that this summer." “Wha- me?” Naomi asks, setting the drumsticks down on top of the snares. Her eyes widen and she slowly unfurls four fingers from her fist, looks up as Nessie towers over her and back down, blinking blankly. “I-“ she stops talking as it clicks. “Oh, I dunno you wanna talk to me bout that. I jus’ kinda got,” she pauses, swallows. “Got swept long in it.” "Oh!" For just a second Nessie's smile falls, but it soon rallies just as bright. "Well. I mean --" She lowers the laptop to rest on her folded forelimbs. "But that's important, too, right? An important perspective. Like -- because of you're new here! And getting a feel for how all that -- that everything is making you feel about the school or the teachers or the other kids or all of it, that's an important part of the story." Naomi’s smile is slowly falling. She reaches for a music chair, sits on it, curls a knee up to her shin. “I guess, yeah...” she starts, voice a little distant. “It was a weird way to start the year.” She taps her knee for a second, then looks up. “So you got real questions or do you want me to like tell you what went down or...” she trails off, eyebrow raised. Nessie opens her laptop up, the swishing of her tail calming as Naomi sits. "I'll bet. I wasn't even there and it --" Her head shakes. "Well, I've heard kind of an overview of what happened, but I want to know -- do you believe the accusations? That Professor Xavier erases students' memories?" Naomi bites her lip. “I’on know,” she says, eyes focused suddenly on peeling some of the black nail polish off her left ring finger. “Heard something bout him getting permission? Which seems sus, but...” she shrugs. “I bet he can, though. And if ya can do somethin,” her voice lowers a bit, “it can be hard to... not, you know?” "I'm not sure," Nessie answers with an uncertain scrunch of brow as she jots something down. She glances between her screen and Naomi, brows lifting questioningly. "Do you mean like -- hard not to use a power you have?" “I mean, yeah?” It comes out like a question. Naomi crosses her arms, shoulders hunching forward. “Like ain’t that the point of being here? Real world wants us to repress our shit, and here you can be yourself, right? But then, it’s like, what if being yourself makes other people nervous to be round you, cuz you can do something kinda wild?” She pauses. “That didn’t really answer your question. Sorry.” "I don't know what the point of being here is." There's a very small sway starting back up in Nessie's tail. She chews for a moment at one corner of her mouth. "I think it's just to finish high school. Maybe?" Her answer does not sound particularly confident. She doesn't entirely manage to stifle the surprised giggle that follows. "I'm pretty sure we're going to make other people nervous to be around us no matter what we do. Here or outside here." Her shrug is unbothered, about this. "But I don't know. Being able to do something is different than doing it, right? I could sting you to death but like -- why. You're nice. I want to be nice." Naomi shrugs. “That too, i guess.” She doesn’t sound convinced, either. “Or just a place to get away from our normal parents.” Naomi glances over at Nessie’s tail. “I mean,” she begins slowly, “you could, yeah, but I don’t see how that would make your life easier, ya know? And what Xavier can do, what I-“ she stops, continues, “That shit can make life easier. Not just for yourself, even.” She shrugs. “I don’t want my head messed with either, but sometimes it would be nice to forget shit, you know?” Nessie's smile gets just a little bit stiffer, her tail flicking harder. "Yeahno you're right guess it wouldn't." Just a beat of pause. "But even if it would, I wouldn't want to do it." Her eyes drop to the laptop, then lift back to Naomi. "I dunno, I think that would make me -- not me." Now she sounds a little dubious again. "Is that what you do, too? Make people forget things? Are you okay with him doing it too, then?" Naomi shrinks back into herself, almost trying to hide behind her scales. “No,” she says flatly. “I don’t do forgettin’. Or telepathy. I’m not okay with it, I’m just- I see why someone would think it’s okay, is all.” She is very focused on her nail beds now. “Like, what’s that thing. Empathizing or whatever.” Nessie's shoulders tighten, her head ducking as Naomi shrinks. Her tail stops its flicking a moment later, though her posture doesn't unclench. "Okay," she replies meekly. "Um." She bites down on her lip, fingers hovering now over her keyboard without moving. "My other questions were just -- about -- whether this affected how you feel about starting school here or your trust in the teachers but -- I guess you don't have to answer that if, um." Her head shakes, and she closes the laptop hastily, scooping it back into her arms. "I'll let you be? Thank you for your time." “I trust em more, maybe.” Naomi is mumbling, but she looks up now, trying for eye contact with Nessie. “Cause if they were fucking with our heads- well, wouldn’t they have made us forget? That we kinda kidnapped the headmaster? Or like. Actually punished us.” Naomi shrugs. “Instead I got a cool advisor, a scholarship, and I get to learn music for the first time.” She shrugs. “Sorry to put you off. I just been gettin on folks wrong side lately.” She reaches for the drumsticks but just holds them close to her chest. “Was nice to meet you.” Nessie studies Naomi several long beats for this answer. Ultimately, though, all she says is a very uncertain, "-- You too," her head bowing again as she crouches low to the ground, skittering back out the door.