ArchivedLogs:Fashion Sense

Fashion Sense
Dramatis Personae Marinov, Paige	2016-12-08 "Yeah, a shitbag diva."
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. Evolve Cafe, a favourite hangout place for all the local misfits and mutants! Marinov strolls through the door, wearing a nice toasty black tactical turtleneck and a pair of athletic pants. The teen looks as though they have been getting up to some serious exercise, not that there is sweat on their clothes, but it looks like they're tired after a jog. They order some tea, as usual, and wait near the counter for it to get steeping. They look down at their phone and update their social media. <Done my jog in NYC. Jumped up from the street onto the curb at the crosswalk. Locals impressed. #parkour> A buzzing vibration alerts Paige to the notification on her small mobile phone. She snorts in amusement at Marinov's post. Swiping out of the social media app, she sends a message via text directly. <Just saw your update. I'm here> followed by <You couldn't pay me enough to go running out in this cold>. Marinov replies via text, < I've always got a layer of insulation on most.> They look around to find Paige in the cafe, though actually seem to be doing better at pinpointing her via scent. They approach and pull up a chair, "Actually, I don't much care for the cold either. Though at least I have an excuse to cover up in a scarf and stuff and look relatively inconspicuous." "The cold sucks," the blonde girl agrees, looking up from her phone as Marinov arrives. She leans back into her seat and puts the mobile device away. "And I don't think there's anything that can hide these horn." Paige's smile is wry, but looks a bit pained. "I'm jealous of your 'insulation', though. You for sure get points for that. I mean I've got, uh, plenty of layers on...but still." She clasps her hands in front of her. "Well, if you draped a big enough hood over them... maybe you could hide them a bit," suggests Marinov helpfully, "I know I look a bit ridiculous when I try to cover up, because it means covering every bit of skin, and wearing sunglasses, 'cause of the weird eyes." They take a sip of their tea and shrug, "But I've been less worried about hiding it lately. I think I'd be really good at running away from conflict." "I've tried," Paige sighs with an amused grin, gesturing to the hood on her sweatshirt. "But all I managed was to poke holes in the fabric." Her eyes glance over the teen. "You, uh, getting into--er, finding yourself in a lot of conflict lately? I...had a bad experience about a week back. We were at the clinic, Steve and I. There were a lot of, uh, protesters." "I guess I avoid conflict, mostly... I mean, there's been times that people have said things, and you know the saying, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will scar me for fucking life', or something like that," says Marinov, claws tapping at the table. "Maybe if you tip the caps of the horns with something blunt, that'd work. But yea, I went to a protest awhile back, and almost got police brutalitied." "My brother is a police officer." Though her eyes are on Marinov as she says these words, they are whispered as if she forgot the teen's presence. She shakes her head. "That's...awful. I'm sorry that happened. I've been...I have to get used to the idea that police are probably not going to want to help me, us, you know." Here she gestures to the general clientele of the cafe. "Not sure what I'd do with my horns, but at least I've heard, uh, back from my physical therapist on my feet. For better or for worse." Marinov glances around when Paige gestures towards the rest of the people in the cafe, "Yeah, I was always sort of, you know, not super down with the police. But I guess I figured they wouldn't beat the shit out of me with a stick. I hightailed it out of there in a hurry." They headshake and take a sip of their tea, "What did your physical therapist have to say about your feet? If they're changing, I'd say get as much walking in as you can. It helps with the changing." "A stick? I, uh, think the saying might actually be 'Sticks and stones may traumatize and leave me disabled forever, but words will scar me for fucking life." Paige says this with sincerity despite the underlying tone of dark humor. "You were probably smart to get out of there. My feet," she begins, leaning back again and dragging her hands slowly down over her face. "I've been putting in the walking." The horned woman hesitates and stares up at the ceiling. "Hooves. I'm not even sure what to...think about that." "Yeah. But I did see Captain America in the flesh, so that was a plus. He got arrested, but what are they going to do? Keep Captain America in jail for protesting?" Marinov headshakes and then listens to the rest of what Paige says. "Ahh, yeah, that seems like it might seem scary. I mean, I got my fair share of physiological changes, but you just gotta remember, you're your brain. The rest of it, that's just padding around you. And your padding is just... not standard issue, I guess? Comes with hooves. Not to minimize it, though, it can be really scary shit." "Yeah, Captain America -- Steve -- he's something else," Paige replies, reaching a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "He's, uh, helped me on a number of occasions. Pretty powerful guy and I don't just mean physically." Her arms drops back down and she leans forwards. "Scary is one word for it. It's just so..." The blonde girl visibly cringes as she says the next word. "Wrong. I should have feet, regular feet. But right. You're right." She takes a deep breath. "Just have to keep walking, keep moving forward. How about you? What was, if you don't mind me asking, the scariest change for you?" "My face," says Marinov after a moment of hesitation, "I mean, not just because I was cute as hell, which I was. Look at the old photos on my account." The teen takes a deep breath and speaks with a bit more of a serious tone, "There's something scary about looking at your face and not recognizing what you're seeing. Hell, even recognizing what you're seeing as human. But..." They shake their head and shrugs, "I guess I'm still me, at least. Still cute, I guess, but more like, 'Aww kitty' rather than like, you know, gorgeous." "Yeah...I've seen a...couple of the pictures," the horned woman admits softly as she looks down and fidgets with her hands. "I can't imagine what that must have been like. I mean hooves aren't exactly human either, but at least my face is mostly in shape." With a sharp intake of breath, Paige's eyes dart back to Marinov. "Not that there's anything wrong with your face--I didn't mean it that way. Your face is great!" “Yeah, I get what you mean,” says Marinov, “My face just isn't what it used to be.” They put their hands around their cup for a few moments while looking down at the contents. “Even with horns, people will probably recognize you. My boyfriend, or well, sort of boyfriend. Whatever. When he saw my new face, I got real dumped. I figure it’s partially ‘cause he didn't recognize me anymore. Though in his words it was because he isn't into bestiality.” Marinov rolls their eyes to show what they think of that! Paige has her own thoughts on the matter. "What? Really? Well, he's an asshole then," she says with absolute conviction before tripping over her words. "I mean, I'm sure he was a really great guy and you really liked him, but obviously he didn't deserve you, you know?" She blinks and then narrows her eyes, refocusing. "Fuck him, though. What do you mean he didn't 'recognize' you anymore? And fuck that shit with beastiality. That's utter bullshit. You're your brain, right? That's what you said. And your heart. If that asshole couldn't 'recognize' you, then he's more of a beast than you." Her tirade over, the blonde girl drops her head. "I, uh, didn't overstep any bounds there, did I?" Marinov looks ready to defend their former love interest, but offers instead a shake of the head. “Ah, no, fuck him. I had a nice relationship with a guy at my school, but he moved away, and the long distance thing..." The youth sighs at that and shrugs. "I dunno. I was surprised that Tim, the first guy, had such a problem. He was so understanding about all kinds of other shit, but I guess mutant crosses some arbitrary line. Or at least not the pretty kind've mutant who can blend in." Paige lets out a sigh of her own, shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It'd be one thing if I went home and could hide my mutant crap, but it's a hell of another if I went home looking like this. Enough people call me a demon already and I don't even want to think about what would happen if my parents found out what I look like. Being mutant to them is like...the line between being human and animal. And they're not even the understanding type to begin with." The horned woman's hands fidget. "This guy Tim -- I'm sorry you lost him." "Yeah, me too," says Marinov, their teeth showing for a moment in a sort of feline scowl, "But sorry that your parents sound like... super not understanding, I guess, if you don't feel like they can know." Marinov drinks back the remainder of their tea and continues, "You look cool, though. Sort of like... out of a fantasy book, or something? I dunno. That probably doesn't sound much like a compliment, but eh... people giving you shit are shitheads." "Yeah...It's hard not having them for the holidays." Rubbing the back of her neck again, Paige blushes. "You really think so? I half-thought I was turning into a Qunari from Dragon Age. But now I'm wondering if I'm, like, turning into a freaking satyr or something -- like obviously not male." She suddenly stiffens. "At least, I really hope not. Besides, you're the same way. You look like you're right out of a book or a video game. Wasn't there..." The blonde girl snickers, apparently finding a thought quite funny. "Have you ever seen the Angry Video Game Nerd play Action 52?" "Uhh, yea, I doubt that you're becoming male or anything. I've never heard of that happening with the mutant thing. Or well... I guess there's shapeshifters? I dunno what the deal with that is," says Marinov, blinking slowly, "And... no, I've heard of the Angry Video Game Nerd, but I haven't really watched any of it." They scratch the back of their neck a moment, eyes turned down towards the table, "But yeah, anyways, you do look cool." "Thanks," the horned woman replies, blushing again. "To be honest, I'm -just- getting used to seeing my horns in the mirror. Showering is also weird." She winces and holds up a hand. "Didn't mean to say -that- part aloud. Thank you, though. It means a lot. Really, it does. You're a really, really nice person, Marinov. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. And, you know, you do look rather dapper." Here she hesitates, searching for words. "Not, uh...you know, 'aww kitty.'" "Yeah, seeing the changes in the mirror will probably be weird for awhile," admits Marinov. At being called rather dapper, the teen gives a double gun gesture and a wink, "Yeah, well, glad you think I'm dapper." They chuckle to themselves and continues, "I have to make most of my own clothes and stuff these days, 'cause of the weird build and all. I mean, I always did a fair bit of that, since there are some types of clothes that aren't designed for my build before, either." Paige rolls her eyes, grinning, at Marinov's gesture. "Make your own clothes? That's impressive and...smart." The blonde girl leans back in her chair, thinking aloud. "Do hooves get cold? Like how does that work? Is there anyway to hide them? Walking in shoes is already, uh, difficult and getting my boots on and off is a struggle in and of itself. I guess they -don't-, considering how horses don't wear socks..." She blinks and shakes her head. "I guess there's no way to really conceal hooves, is there?" "No, I guess not," says Marinov, after a bit of thought, "Any footwear you wear would have to be sort of custom made. My feet are all weird shaped, but I've been getting footwear custom made... I can't make shoes, after all, I'm no cobbler." They shake their empty cup a moment, to check if there's anything left within. "But you might be able to get shoes custom made, too. I get them through the school, 'cause it's like, you know. Mutant heavy population at my school, and some have physical mutations, so custom clothes are a must." "That school sounds too good to be true," Paige replies with a hint of skepticism in her voice. "I should probably start asking around about shoes, but I'm thinking it's a no-go." She shrugs and looks towards the ceiling. "I'd need a job first anyways. I'm sort of living off the kindness of strangers at the moment...and I don't really -want- to be a charity case." "Uh, yeah, it does seem too good to be true. I mean, it's not perfect, though... but I try not to pay too much mind to the politics and shit," says Marinov with a bit of a face. They shake their head and says, "I dunno, I guess nobody really wants to be a charity case or anything, but when you've got obvious physical mutations, things like that can be hard. I like the idea of working in fashion, you know, being some kind of shitbag diva. That'd be the ticket. But... that sort of life doesn't like people who aren't conventionally pretty. I don't think there's anything wrong with getting a little help when a lot of the paths that you could've taken before are rockier... Like, from my perspective, 'cause I know it's gonna be a rocky road for me." "Shitbag ... diva?" Paige inquires with a raised brow. "I'm, uh, not exactly sure what you mean by that, but beauty conventions are such a fucking piece of bullshit. And, like, you can't start up your own business or something without a ton of fucking money. But if you, uh, ever want anyone to 'model' your clothing line, I -am- looking for a job." It’s said sheepishly with a laugh. "I mean, heck, I'd do it for free. I need something to occupy my time," she adds with a wry grin. "Besides, it'd be like paying it forward or something, right?" "Yeah, a shitbag diva," Marinov repeats, "Like, you know, those kinds of high profile people who wander around acting like they are all high and mighty, and everyone starts to believe them. 'Only the brown M&Ms, peeled out of their candy shells, each on their own platter,' I'll say, and then I'll drop them in the garbage one by one 'cause chocolate makes me sick. That's the career for me, and I think fashion is one of the avenues into it. Music's another." They nod, emphasizing this matter of fact thing. "But yea, I've sort of thought like... there could be mutant fashion, right? But that wouldn't get mainstream. But it'd be a neat gimmick." "Oh, I could -totally- see you doing that," Paige remarks once she has stopped laughing at Marinov's portrayal of themselves. "Mutant fashion," she says as she leans forward in her seat and places her hands on the table. "Would be beautiful. Just think of how many clients you'd have -- seriously, what's the competition even like? What sort of place would sell a hat that would fit me? Seriously! It's cold outside. There's bound to be plenty of people with...uh, non-standard...er, atypic---DIFFERENT body types and I'll bet they get cold too. There's that website Etsy, don't forget. You could, like, start there?" "Yeah, I don't think there'd be a lot of competition. Of course, it'd be better if there weren't a tendency for mutants to be... uh, not really super well off, financially. But I guess if I attracted the attention of... non-mutants?- I dunno, I don't really like that there's no agreed on word for that- Using sort of an ad gimmick, could be financially successful, and then discount it for mutants. But..." Marinov rubs their brow lightly and says, "Or can I even do that? Ugh. But yeah, Etsy could be a good place to start, I guess." "I wish I could help," the blonde girl sighs. "Maybe if I'd finished school, I'd have some business marketing strategies or something. But I didn't and I'm plain out of money. But, yeah, maybe you can get like non-mutant sponsors? People to help you start your business? I mean, you could try like Kickstarter. And if Etsy's not your game, there's always eBay. And -could- you offer discounts to mutants only? I don't see why not. We're already discriminated against, right? I'm sure there's like other minorities who, uh, only cater to themselves." "Yeah, I figure it'd be good. Probably be people who talk about reverse discrimination or some bullshit, but I know what a load of shit that can be, from pre-manifestation and all that even," says Marinov. "But it can hurt support with the whole majority community. Not that I like to be practical with that kind of shit, but if I'm going to rely on it for income..." The felinoid teen's ears flick with irritation, "Maybe I'll talk with some of the teachers back at school to get this shit ironed out. Gotta do it now while there's a support system, right?" Paige shrugs and offers, "Yeah, maybe don't outright tell people about the discount? I...I don't know. It was just a thought. But, yeah, like I said your school sounds too good to be true. If your teachers can help you out, you might as well make the best of it. I'm not sure I understand the whole politics behind it..." "Yeah, I don't get it either. I mean, I'm just a kid, right? But that's not gonna be a good excuse for long," says Marinov, shaking their head. "But it'll still be a bit off before it becomes super important. But if I did a modeling thing, I'd hire you for that though, for sure. Though... is there some career that is like, your dream?" "-My- dream?" the horned woman echoes, seemingly surprised. "My dream..." she repeats as she quietly drums her fingers on the table. "I was -supposed- to be a business major; at least that's what my parents wanted. -I-..." Paige hesitates. "I've always wanted to, uh, help people. I don't know exactly how, I don't know in what way, but I wanted to help others. Like, you know, be an influence - a positive one. Modeling 'mutant fashions' could do that in a way." She shrugs. "I guess I'm just simple like that. Any way I could help, I'd consider it." "Yeah, I think you could be an inspiration for some people. I mean... people with physical mutations, we don't get a lot of, you know, good press in the media. I guess that'd be inspiring for some people, to see someone like them in like... fashion shows or even magazines or something," says Marinov, crossing their arms as they consider the idea. "I guess... I dunno, we could figure that shit out, maybe organize something. I doubt it'd pick up right away, but if we start on something now, who knows." "You think so?" the blonde girl says with a hopeful expression on her face. "You really think we could make a difference? It'd mostly be, uh, you though, to be honest. Your clothes, your fashion." Paige appears to like the idea, grinning. "I'm not looking for charity here - I just want to be clear. If this thing actually gets going -- and I'm totally willing to help out -- I'm not going to expect any kind of money or anything like that. Just...feeling good about doing something positive for a change? I ... I think that'd be enough for me." Marinov blinks once slowly and says, "I do think we could really make a difference. And, heh, yeah you probably shouldn't expect charity from me. I'm not exactly in the money, you know! I just mean, if there's success, then I dunno, maybe we could make enough money to at least get by or something. Even if I can't be all fancy and shit." "Money down the line could be a thing, yeah, but hey," Paige says with a shrug. "Like I said, it's your clothes, your fashion - you do what you want with your money. Besides, even if this ends up being like a dream job for me, I hope I'll at least have another job. I'm not just going to stop looking and hedge my bets all on this. I want to at least prove to people that I'm useful for -something-. And who knows? Provide enough mutants with clothes and you're bound to get a few perks or favors." Marinov nods a couple of times, "Yeah, I guess so. I dunno, I guess I'll figure something out. This is food for thought for sure..." They scratch the back of their neck a moment and continue, "I'm sure that whatever you do, you'll find a way to do something good in the community. I'm glad that your parents, if they're pretty prejudiced, didn't mess you up so bad that you're... I dunno, hating on your own community? Well... I dunno if it's quite a community. But people who're part of the same sort've social group or something." They start putting items left on the table into their empty cup, in preparation to head out. "It's good that you want to help, is what I'm saying." Paige's face flushes as her eyes suddenly find her hands interesting at the mention of her parents. "I've been going to a...group. To help me...get used to things. I kind of believed them, you know. 'Mutants are abominations', 'mutants are crimes against nature'. They made it pretty clear that mutants 'could never be trusted' and would very likely kill me for little to no reason. I would...I'd just be an idiot not to open my mind. Their stories didn't always seem to match with reality, but...I may have said this before, but I wasn't the best kind of person before." She sighs with a shrug of her shoulders. "I've...just been thrown into the fire and I haven't yet gotten burnt, you know?" Here the horned woman looks up again, offering Marinov a small grin. "Seems like they could've been wrong from where I'm standing. The community...it's insane. Like, beyond anything I could have ever imagined. What I mean is everyone is so -nice- and -helpful-." A hand gestures idly. "But, yes. I -do- want to help. I want to do better. Than them, than myself in the past. I want to do good." "I think everyone's nice and helpful, 'cause they know how hard and scary the outside world is. I've only been manifested for like a year now, and I already know how shitty people who don't understand can be... I mean, for me, even being, uh, intersex and shit, people tend to be weird about it if they don't come from that sort of background. People treat you like you're less than a person, so you... I dunno, want to make sure nobody else hurts? Or at least feel like they're not completely alone out there." Marinov's posture becomes a bit more defensive at these last wandering thoughts. "I... dunno, though, that's just my thoughts." "It gets hard when you yourself start to believe that you're less of a person. But the way everyone has treated me since I came here...even though I've -freaked- out on a number of occasions...it makes me feel better about myself. Intersex?" Paige pauses a moment, as though trying to remember what the word means. "That's...Hmm. I don't think I really know any other intersex people. At least no one that's told me. People really treated you like less than a person for that?" She asks, seeming confused at the notion. "That's...really? But that's not even..." The blonde girl sighs. "People -suck-. Unless they're good people. Like you. Like all of the mutants I've met so far. And so far the only person that's really hurt me is myself - emotionally, that is." "Well. I dunno. People sometimes don't realize the harmful shit that they're saying or doing," says Marinov, "But yeah, people have treated me like lesser 'cause of that, but my parents have always been good about it and that's a great help... it can be sort of isolating is all. So I always try to remember how I've felt." The teen chuckles softly and adds, "I should be getting out of here for tonight, though, it's starting to get late. But... it was a really great talking, Paige. I'll let you know if I come up with any great ideas." "Your parents sound awesome," Paige responds with a shake of her head. "I'm sure you make them proud. Your friendship always means a lot to me, Marinov. I'm on board with any great ideas you might get. I, uh, think I'll stay here a little longer before heading out. Thanks for meeting up with me. Take care and be good, okay?"