Logs:Will Be Missed

Will Be Missed
Dramatis Personae Lael, Naomi
In Absentia	2021-01-17 "He's a quiet sorta hero."
Location <XAV> Conservatory - Xs First Floor
Tall panes of glass and a many-gabled glass ceiling protect this large indoor garden from the elements, while welcoming in sunlight to keep it warm year-round. Adjoined to the southern face of the venerable mansion and surrounded by more conventional gardens beyond, the conservatory is all Old World elegance from the outside. Within, however, it is lush and green and in certain corners--whether despite its careful tending by the groundskeeper or because of it--seems practically wild. Footpaths and a burbling artificial steam wind through the space, connecting its disparate parts. Benches are scattered throughout, thorough soft grasses or mosses under certain trees also invite rest. The outside wall is lined with tropical and subtropical plants. The ferns and cycads and epiphytes are kept moist by artfully hidden misters that also give the place a sort of magical ambiance, dense foliage wreathed at times with drifting patches of mist. Nearest the building is a desert in miniature, with a few impressively sized cacti as well as palo verde and other trees adapted to arid climes. Between these, and by far the largest section, is dedicated temperate zone plantlife from around the world, the beds growing more carefully manicured and the pads less winding as one approaches the center, where a clearing with a small ring of seats is a popular spot for some teachers to hold court. Outside it's mild for mid-January upstate, but in here it's warm from all the benefits of the wintery sunlight without the chill touch of wind. Lael is sitting in a bench near enough to the glass wall of the desert biome to take full advantage of the light. He's wearing a brown canvas chore jacket over forest green hoodie, rugged blue jeans and beaten-up black sneakers. He's turning a bunch of wood he'd picked up from beside the path between his hands, studying it with his unblinking serpentine eyes, his hair squirming slow and thoughtful. "I like 'im well enough," he allows, "but it jus' ain't the same." Naomi is curled up on the other side of the bench, back pressing against the thin armrest and one arm slung across backrest. She’s wearing a Xavier’s hoodie, black jeans with the beginnings of a hole forming in the knee, and old faded red Chuck Taylor sneakers. She taps one nail absently on the back of the bench. “I bet,” she says, her own impressions of her brother’s new roommate rolling through her thoughts slowly. <<Funny. Talkative. Normal-looking.>> Her eyes drift to the wood in Lael’s hands. <<Real different from Marcus.>> “They sure replaced him quick.” There’s a touch of resentment in her tone. It’s echoed by the sense of resentment in her head, angry thoughts (<<Like we all interchangeable to them>>) undercut by guilty ones (<<that ain’t fair to Avi>>). Lael's brows wrinkle. It's a moment before he shakes his head, eyes still searching the wood. "I surely do miss Marcus," he allows, "but I'm glad they put Avi with me. Not just--" He breaks off, reconsiders his words. "They got to put new folks somewhere, so who knows how intentional it was. Either way, I'd rather Avi now than some white boy later." He finally looks over at his sister. "You aight, though?" <<See? You bein’ mean, Naomi.>> Naomi deflates slightly, resting her chin on her knees. “That’s fair, he’s nice I like Avi he’s cool —“ <<literally>> “— it’s jus’,” she cuts herself off, sighs softly. Her eyes drift up to Lael’s hair, following one locs as it undulates. <<You know.>> “I miss Marcus.” <<Ain’t over him. Messed e’erything up wit’ him.>> Her cheeks darken slightly, arms wrapped around her legs. Lael's hair squirms a little faster. "It ain't mean for you to wish he was still here. I--" He shakes his head. "You did mess up with him, but it's important you know it weren't cuz of that he decided to stay." He starts to say more, but hesitates, and when he continues it sounds like something other than what he perhaps intended at first, "I know you liked him an awful lot, and 'm sorry." Naomi squeezes her arms tighter, pulling her knees closer into her torso still. “‘Course not,” she mumbles, “that would be stupid. He ain’t stupid.” There is a twinge of guilt there anyway, soothed only slightly by the reassurance that there were other factors. <<But why though why stay there>> loops through her head a couple times, then - “Ah, lord.” Her cheeks darken more, the flush creeping up and under her scales. <<That’s embarrassing.>> “Sorry you gotta hear that.” "He ain't stupid," Lael echoes heavily, the writhing of his hair growing more agitated. "You don't gotta apologize--you liked him, it's expected." He licks his lips, his eyes returning to the chunk of wood. "He saw there was work needed doin' there. Felt he could make a real difference for our folks who fled to Canada." His smile is sad. "He's a quiet sorta hero." The flush begins to recede, slowly, but Naomi’s cheeks are still warm to the touch. “He’d be good at that,” she allows, thinking of Marcus, at the cabin in Maine and in the bowling alley after Shippenville, with a mix of fondness towards him and shame towards herself. “Ain’t you worried ‘bout him though?” <<I’m worried about him.>> She tries to shift away from the memory of the jailbreak as fast as she can, with little success. Her fingers press hard against the sides of her knees. <<There wasn’t anything for him over here?>> She bites her lip, unwilling to voice that particular thought out loud. <<Sounds too whiney.>> Lael bows his head, his fingers tightening around his next whittling project. "'Course I'm worried 'bout him. But he's the smartest guy I ever known, and he's a survivor, I think--I think he'll get along fine." He swallows, closing his eyes deliberately. "His reasons were good, but that don't make it simple or nothin'. I'm sure there's plenty here for him to miss, too." “Mm.” Naomi’s shoulders curl in more. “‘M sorry. This — prob’ly sucks more for you than me, maybe.” <<An’ K.C. gone and graduated too…>> A sense of worry settles in Naomi’s mind, this time focused not on a memory of Marcus but at Lael right next to her. More guilt, too — <<don’t mean to make him mind me an’ my feelings all the time.>> Lael huffs a humorless laugh. "Iunno if there's any way to measure how much more or less it sucks. Think it's fair to say it just--sucks." His smile after this is only a little forced. "K.C.'s still around. And you're my baby sister--mindin' you comes with the territory." Here, at least, his smile skews brighter, even if his hair is still twisting hard. Naomi uncurls, swinging her legs off the bench so she’s sitting normally, and scoots over to close the gap between them. Her shoulder knocks against Lael’s, her head leaning towards his. “This sucks,” she agrees, voice soft. <<Don’t wanna make it worse for you. Us.>> She thinks about adding something else - <<Ain’t told him I signed up for Ethics, did I?>> - but decides against it, electing instead to just lean more against her brother’s shoulder. Lael drapes one arm across Naomi's sister, and tips his head against hers--his hair curling out to grab at hers, though much more sedately now than they might have a moment ago. "Not saying we don't all of us got problems but you ain't makin' this worse," he says firmly, his hand tightening fractionally on her shoulder, "an' that's the truth." Naomi’s thoughts slow as Lael’s hair twists around hers, her gaze dropping to the piece of wood in Lael’s other hand. She presses closer into the embrace, scales scratching lightly against Lael’s skin. Breathes in, then out, slow. <<thank you — love you — gonna make you/him/us proud.>>