Logs:We Need to Talk
| We Need to Talk | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia | 2024-04-27 "C'mon, y'all! We takin' this all the way to the headmaster!" |
| Location
<XAV> Grounds - Xs Grounds | |
Xavier's School is situated on grounds as luxurious as the mansion itself. The tree-lined drive brings you up to the lush green sweep of front lawn and the wide front porch with its bench swing, often frequented by students studying in pleasant weather. The large oak tree in the front yard is home to a tire swing, installed long ago beneath the sturdy old treehouse. The lawn rolls out all the way down to the thin rocky pier at the edge of the glittering lake. The water stretches huge and wide off into the distance, the boathouse a small blip at its shore. Along its bank, forest stretches dense and shady to one side; to the other cliffs start to rise, high and rocky, providing trails for hiking or climbing, for the adventurous. It's hard to tell exactly when the news about Taylor got through to Lael, and it may not be possible to tell how much of the shock and horror and grief overwhelming him is his own and how much that of his gathered schoolmates. But he is, finally, drawing himself shakily up from where he'd been collapsed against the entryway of Avi's luxury igloo. The long dreadlocks which had draped around him squirming without direction now coil into thicker cords that he uses to push himself upright, one of them plucking a round smooth stone from the grass as he rises. He sways a little on his feet, his locs waving around him like so many serpents. Or tentacles. Several more of those now coil around the bundle that's holding the stone, which he flings with great force and a wordless cry through a front window of the mansion even as the door to Freaktown slams shut. Avi has been kind of hanging near Lael, an uncertain hovering of want-to-help not-sure-how-to-help. He's been doing his best to quiet his furious thoughts out of respect for his already-bombarded telepathic roommate, and this is halfway working. The spillover of fluctuating psionic energies that have been washing through the crowd has mostly meant that the mi shebeirach he is reciting in desperate hope that the news is Not Accurate is tinged heavy with rage and grief. In a way it is almost a relief when Lael flings the rock -- there's shock, yes, at his normally-composed friend's outburst, but also Avi is seizing on this like, yes, okay, here's an understandable outlet. There's a lot of yelling on the lawn -- several more rocks being flung -- and Avi is picking up one of his own and hurling it hard and accurate through an upper-floor -- teacher's wing -- window. Amid all the yelling out on the lawn probably nobody is hearing the shriek of alarm coming from the foyer as the windows shatter. Nobody needs to — in a moment Naomi’s presence is more than known, her eyes’ emerald glow still bright and distinct in the early dawn. "Out of my way," she’s telling every Xavierite between her and the igloo, and if the hissing compulsion in their ears bothers them, well, Naomi will apologize later. She draws up to her brother and his roommate, phone clutched tight in her hand, mind reaching out with its frenzied cadence. "Is it—" << true of course it’s true (please tell me it ain’t true) >> cymbal-crashes across her mind even as she truncates her ask, louder than the rat-a-tat reminder to turn << (eyes OFF) >>, loud as the incipient panic crescendoing in her chest as she looks at the stones flying over her head. "''What' are y'all doin?" Lael is busy pulling apart the entryway of Avi's igloo for more ammunition when Naomi comes outside. He drops the hefty ice brick he was getting ready to hurl and pulls his sister to him, a sharp violent protectiveness briefly overshadowing the steady flood of his anguish and fury. "They let this happen, Nae." His voice is shaking, something even Naomi has rarely experienced. "They sit up here on keeps of money, too good to help out common criminals and now Taylor is dead." His locs pull another block of ice and sends it spinning through the air into an upper story window. "They ain't keeping their hands clean this time." He raises his voice, telepathically amplified, to reach everyone on the lawn. "C'mon, y'all! We takin' this all the way to the headmaster!" Some small part of Avi's brewing fury is spilling over toward Naomi when she arrives, a frustrated << oh now you show up >> << couldn't care before >> but he's reeling this back in before it gets any voice with a vague chagrined feeling that this is Not Quite Fair. Far more fair, definitely, he is redirecting, hurling another stone and nodding along with Lael. "We been asking 'em and they ain't care. He dead and they just wanna lock the gates and pretend it ain't happening." This is directed to Naomi, but it's the rest of the students he's talking to when he adds, loud and bold: "We care and today they gon hear." Naomi presses her face hard against her brother’s shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut against a fiery prickle of tears. What little psionic white noise she was trying to maintain shakes apart at the tremor in Lael’s voice, at the news she didn’t want to believe. Her mind is racing from << of course they didn’t help >> to << should have been here >> to << could have been there (is Harm still there — where’s Sriyani — Spence) >> to << could have made them care >> to a sudden screeching halt at, "The professor?!?" Naomi pulls back to stare at the mob of teenagers beginning to heed the boys’ call, then up to the third floor windows. "Y’all crazy, you can’t just -- just --" << they can, >> she’s realizing, with a feeling that is too twisted with adrenaline to be clearly elation or terror, that the staff have no grid, no guns, << y’all can burn it all down >> Lael kisses the top of Naomi's head and slowly releases her, though some of his locs cling to her out of some reluctant reflex and he doesn't step away. << They can take care of themselves, and they ain't alone, >> isn't quite as reassuring as he probably intended it, and in his agitation a flash of the chaos from their monumentally foolish raid on Lassiter spills over along with his telepathic message. At his sister's spoken outburst he frowns, taken aback. "He always say we welcome to go talk wit him." He's leaving out the "making an appointment" part of that offer, but who's counting. "We just takin' him up. Ain't nobody talkin' 'bout burning the school down." Possibly, in a calmer moment, Lael would think twice about saying this aloud to a mob of angry suggestible teenagers, even if there weren't pyrokinetics in their midst. But this is not a calmer moment, and Lael is leading the way into the mansion. "What we burning?" In Avi's case, probably very little, but he's still looking a little confused at the one-sided bit of the exchange that he can hear; he's not sure when the plan began to include burning and not sure he is fully on board with this, but soon makes up his mind that if Burning is what Lael wants he will support it (and possibly keep some fire extinguisher at the ready.) His hands have clenched into fists at his side, a brief icy crackle forming over his knuckles as he marches along at Lael's side. "You wanna keep your head down, stay on the fence, you do you, but we taking a stand." Naomi is not reassured, not by the thoughtspeak , not by the curl of her brother’s locs around her, especially not by that flash of Lassiter from Lael’s eyes cutting across her own sense-memories. She’s still stuck, mentally, at trying to reconcile Lael and Avi’s words, their presence, with what she is seeing with her own eyes — there are still rocks flying, some well aimed and some not, students peeling off down the first floor halls to take their anger out on classrooms and offices, and somewhere in the back of the encampment, a tent is going up in cold-blue flames. The crowd is streaming past her to follow the boys inside and up the grand stairs before Naomi snaps out of her paralysis. "Wait," might be hard to hear as she races to catch up, but "'stop him'," slithers through the noise and twists into Avi’s mind, "'stop them,'" coiling (overwhelmed, scared, pleading) through Lael’s. "We ain't burnin' nothing." Lael waves this off. "Naomi just frettin', but we gotta do what we gotta do." He claps a hand to Avi's shoulder as they forge onward, and he's not really paying attention to how many of the kids he's drawn along are immediately breaking off once they get inside. At least, he's not paying attention until Naomi's voice makes him. "Hold up, y'all!" he hollers, his voice deep and commanding--though not commanding like his sister's. Some of the other students heed him, confused. Others do not. He's still standing on the stair, with maybe a dozen kids looking up at him nonplussed. << What are you doing? >> his voice in Naomi's head is hurt, betrayed. When his voice rings out again it's hard to tell whether he's addressing his sister or the other students he's just called, "We going to have a talk with the Professor. You can come with us, or get out our way." Without much thinking about it, Avi is reaching for Lael's shoulder -- not that he can easily physically stop the more muscular boy that way, but at the same time, there's a thick crust of ice creeping up from the floor to cement Lael's boots in place. It's only a second later that he's looking down at the ice, a << sorry sorry sorry >> strong in his mind. The apology is swiftly giving way to anger, and though plenty of it is still directed at the administration, the most immediate chunk is now geared solidly on Naomi. "What the --?" The ice is cracking again, crunchy and more malleable where its cemented hold begins to crumble back apart. "Taylor dead, Naomi. Our friends out there tryna help keep people safe while the X-Men sitting here twiddling their thumbs and you --" Hurt and disgust mix equally in his mind. He shakes his head, exhales. "I'onno what's wrong with you but you stay the hell out of my head. You wanna be a coward, you can be a coward alone." He's tugging lightly at Lael's elbow as he continues tromping up the stairs. "He still gon’ be dead!" Naomi shrieks. "He’s dead Xavier can’t bring him back money can’t bring him back he’s dead they’re all gon’ be dead —" She sucks in a breath. << Do you see everyone >> is accusatory right back at Lael, << are you listening to yourself (Taylor always listened) >>. Avi calls her a coward and all the (stupid) (traumatic) ways she’s tried and failed to help her friends since coming to this school twists in her stomach — the Professor unconscious in the back of a bus she stole; spidery robots following her back through the snow; lie down and wait to die tasting like rot in her mouth; sharp agony of a suppression dart in her shoulder; crack of metal fist across her nose; disgust on her classmates faces in the chapel — and decides this is not worth it, that she was right to sit this out, that whatever mess they want they can just have. "Fucking fine," and Lael can tell that Naomi is not even bothering to stop this last compulsion from impressing itself into their minds, << it's what y'all want anyway >>, "'y’all go on, try an’ break down Xavier’s door, see how brave y’all feeling then.'" She heads back down the stairs, disappearing into the chaos of the hall below. Lael kicks free of the crumbling ice and starts after Avi, then hesitates at that rapid wash of memories. He's just starting to turn back to his sister when her voice neatly circumvents all his hard-learned psionic defenses and then his volition, as well. He races up the stairs, the footfalls of his schoolmates close behind, leading the way to the Professor's suite where they all pile up at the door and, with only a few moments' frenzied combined effort, break it open and pour through. He comes up short in the receiving room and blinks his eyes clear, clenching his teeth hard and darting a sidelong look at Avi. << I'm sorry. Our nana raised her better than that. But it ain't exactly like we can walk this back. >> He lifts his voice and calls out, "Professor! We need to talk." | |
