Logs:Return, O faithless children, says the Lord,

Return, O faithless children, says the Lord,
Dramatis Personae Deuce, Mr. Concepcion, Mr. Summers, Joshua
In Absentia	2025-01-26 "Breathe out. It's okay."
Location <XAV> Forest - Xs Grounds
Quiet and shady, the trees rise all around here high and thick. In stillness, woodland creatures make appearances, though sudden noises scare them back into the cover. Dappled sunlight filters down between the thick foliage, and the ground underfoot is heavily overgrown, though here and there paths have been worn, by deer or years of students wandering familiar trails. Deuce is tired and cold but he has to press on. He has to. He... he has to. If he looks back, he'll see a sea of golden mushrooms amid fallen trees and white fungus, but he refuses to look back. He can't look back. It's all his fault. He's a monster, a danger to everyone, and he knows it. Even these poor trees aren't safe from his curse, and he whispers apologies to each tree he spots with that godawful white fungus. He's so tired, his limbs heavy from the amount of power he's used, but he can't stop. If he stops, and falls asleep, the entire forest may die. He just- he just has to get out of this cluster of trees, and he can stop hurting people. Stop hurting plants. Stop hurting everything he ever gets close to. <<Pathetic>> his mind whispers, but he pushes it away. It doesn't matter what he is, as long as no one, nothing else gets hurt. There's a small ripple of motion, quiet and unobtrusive in the shade of the nearby trees. Joshua (today, dressed in an FDNY paramedic uniform, wearing the same droopy-dour expression he had when visiting Deuce in the hospital) drops his hands from his cargo in fairly short order. His eyes are scanning the trees around, then giving a very long look to his companions. Only belatedly does he turn, jerking his chin up in a silent nod to Deuce. "Fungus, huh?" He vanishes, again. It's hard to tell if Mr. Summers is returning that long look, behind the visor fitted over his face; his glance around the surrounding woods, at the spread of fungus behind Deuce, is quicker and hard to trace. He's dressed to deal with Xavier's's other fungus infestation -- long heavy-duty gloves and sleeves, wrap-around chainsaw chaps, an olive drab helmet and toolbelt. "Thanks," he says, quietly, just before Joshua disappears again. Then, his tone a little bit less gruff, he's adding to Deuce, "Hey, Deuce. Where are you going? Can we talk first?" The other half of Joshua's cargo is definitely returning the look, though his expression is just a placid calm -- no smile, no frown, only the faintest hint of pinch around his dark eyes that is itself largely obscured by the safety goggles he has on over his regular glasses. Leo, too, is in heavy-duty chaps, gloves, jacket; no toolbelt, and his hardhat looks more construction than military. He does not say anything -- just a small polite dip-bob bowing nod of his head. He's drifting aside slowly, fingertips tracing against the rough bark of an elm that has no visible fungus on it. Currently. Deuce freezes in place when the three show up. His anxiety does not improve when Joshua leaves, in fact it may have worsened. His mind is spinning. Oh god. Did he cause such a huge problem that Mr. Summers is here with someone to get rid of him now? Stupid stupid stupid. He knew he shouldn't have agreed to go to this school. All he does is cause so much trouble for everyone. Always. Without fail. His mind is screaming at him to run, but he can't. He's trapped, caged, locked up. Or at least that's how he feels. If he runs, Joshua will find him again, and again, and again. And not only would it be a useless endeavour, he'd be wasting more of Joshua's time than he already has. He'd be wasting everyone's resources more than he already has. He's such a... waste. Of everything. Deuce can't even look Mr. Summers in the eyes, his shame overwhelming. "I'm sorry, I-" he falls silent. No use making excuses. He deserves whatever punishment is coming and he knows it. He's so tired. He hopes he'll be allowed to sleep tonight. Scott glances aside at Leo, then takes a single, very slow step forward, hands opening at his sides in a small, universal hands-empty gesture -- "You're not in trouble. Mr. Concepcion here is going to try and reverse some of the fungus, alright? I just want to talk. Why do you want to leave? Do you know where you're going?" Leo's eyes flick towards the boy behind his double-pair of glasses. He pulls off the safety goggles, then, clipping them onto his belt; it at least makes his face somewhat less CDC Agent In An Apocalypse Movie, though the red racoon-rings pressed into his skin from the hours of goggles-wearing aren't doing him any favors. His hand drops slowly from the tree. He's moving the other direction than Scott -- a slow step away from the boy, then crouching down to peer at the ground with a quiet hm. His lips press together, thin, and a faint shiver ripples through his shoulders, only minimally visible through his large and heavy jacket. Deuce keeps a wary eye on both men, although he never looks either in the eye. He's slightly less worried about Leo, who seems more worried about the ground than attempting to attack Deuce or something. He's significantly more scared of/for Mr. Summers who has just moved closer to him. What if Mr. Summers gets hurt too? What if Mr. Summers hurts him? What if---. Talking to Mr. Summers is almost a scarier prospect than being hurt by him, although logically that should not be the case. He hesitates, then he answers the only part of Mr. Summers' questions that he feels able to answer, "I... thought I saw a road a little further up," he nods towards an area much further into the forest, his voice hardly above a whisper, "I can follow it to a city... or something." "The city's still a pretty long way away," says Scott evenly; he doesn't take another step, just stops where he is. "Takes me a while to drive there, it'll take a lot longer to walk. Why are you leaving?" he asks again. "Did something happen?" Leo is looking up -- not at Deuce, just at the trees around him. Then Scott. Then back to the earth in front of him. He pushes off the ground again, drifting this time sideways to look intently at a slender sapling. "You will kill many of trees before you get to the road." His voice is just a quiet murmur, half-hidden in the soft rustle of the leaves. Deuce fidgets nervously with his hands at Mr. Summer's questions, his mind racing. It's Mr. Concepcion's statement that makes him shrink in on himself, guilt filling his eyes, "I know I... I'm so sorry," he murmurs quietly, unsure of who he's really apologizing to, "I just... I don't know how to stop. I have to stop. Stop hurting everything." His grip tightens on his own hands, his nails digging into his hands, not enough to hurt but enough to ground himself... hopefully. "I know." This is a little bluntly said, even and straightforward, very plainly spoken, as Scott is taking another slow, careful step forward. "Most of us have trouble controlling it at first. Some of us will always have trouble controlling it. Nothing wrong with that. That's why we have the school. Help you kids understand what you can do, and how not hurt anyone with it. If you can." Another slow step forward, a very soft crinkle-crunch of the undergrowth beneath his foot. "We won't hurt you. You're not in trouble. But if you don't want to hurt anything else -- come back to the school. And we'll do whatever we can to help you." "There is," Leo is saying this extremely mildly, "a school just here. Just for teaching children --" He turns a gloved hand out toward Scott and his explanation. "... I would probably also stay away from the trees. For now." "But what if... what if I... destroy everything? I... I always do," Deuce speaks up quietly. He fidgets with his hands, half expecting Mr. Summers to lunge at him despite the man's reassurances. "I don't want to cause... more trouble." He looks up slightly at the trees around him, biting his lip, eyes filled with guilt, "And... if I don't learn fast enough..." his mind circles through images of a fungus-filled school, his fear and disgust towards his mutation only growing with each scenario. "When I was young," Mr. Summers is still inching forward, one step at a time, hands open placatingly, "I destroyed everything I looked at. Took a lot of work to make me -- not dangerous." He stops moving, hands now around elbow height, head tilting to one side. "I promise, the school can take a little destruction. The forest can't. You're not in trouble." In repetition, maybe this should sound less sincere, but Scott's even tone is imbuing it with confidence. "You don't have to be scared. Whatever happened, we'll figure it out." "A lot of people have terrifying powers. You will keep destroying things if you don't learn to control it." Leo isn't moving any closer, but he is drifting a little bit to the side to examine a different tree. "It's your responsibility to learn to do better. Running away just means you take the problem somewhere else. It's not real caring." Deuce feels like he's drowning, the weight of his guilt and his exhaustion and his anxiety pushing down on him. Mr. Concepcion is right, he's still a problem, no matter where he runs. He can't run from his problems because he is the problem. He always will be. "I'm sorry," he whispers again, unsure which of the many things he's sorry for, this time. He steps towards Mr. Summers, despite every cell in his body screaming at him not to. "I'll... I'll go back to school. I'm... I'm sorry." He can't tell if he's just made the best or worst decision of his life. "What are you sorry for?" There's no censure in Mr. Summers's tone, which is as straightforward as ever, though there's also no sense of confusion or bafflement. Not even a tone of commandment, until he goes on: "Take a deep breath. Breathe in," and then a long several seconds later, "Breathe out. It's okay. We'll go back to school, we'll figure it out." He pauses for a moment, to let his tone regain some of the faint friendliness it lost in this order, "We've done this a thousand times before. It's okay. You're okay."