ArchivedLogs:Four Alarm Research
| Four Alarm Research | |
|---|---|
Just some boring old research in the library - NOTHING EXCITING HERE | |
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-08-20 Maybe a /little/ exciting |
| Location | |
Xavier's librarian might hope the library is a quiet place to sit and study, but with a school full of teenagers that is not always the case. Nevertheless, it is certainly a treasure trove of knowledge, well-stocked with a wealth of books on its high shelves. Its reference section is vast, though its fiction is as well (much to the delight of many of its students.) The wide octagonal tables and smaller armchairs are often crowded with students, though the whispered conversations that often take place leave some doubt as to how much work is getting done at any given hour. It looks like someone has been in the library for quite some time this morning. They’ve certainly missed breakfast at least. The culprit becomes clear when Aloke blinks back into place at the reference computer. A card catalogue might have actually been /easier/ for the older teacher, but he’s trying at least. Aloke sighs, and moves things on the touchscreen fitfully. Nearby, a pile of physics texts sits, in varying degrees of disarray. Some lay open on the table, several other thick tomes are stacked pell mell to one side. Aloke mutters to himself, “Good lord, I have an /MFA/ for chrissakes, you’d think I could find a couple of /books/ in a high school library…” He pokes at something on the screen, jots a quick note with a pencil and paper, and blinks away again. The sound of what could be high heels clicking sharply against the parquet wood flooring precedes the arrival of the Xavier’s librarian into her domain. A to-go thermos of some beverage is carried gently in one hand, while the other holds open a relatively new looking paperback to about halfway; Mallory is currently reading from the book, moving a bit slowly as her attention is focused mostly on her novel. She is dressed sharply, but a touch casual, in a sweeping asymmetrical hem black wrap dress, arranged to allow for freedom of movement for her long, tapered tail. As she moves further into the library, it becomes obvious that the clicking sound is, in fact, not originating from heels, but instead from the obsidian colored cloven hooves at the end of her digitigrade legs. The frustrated mutter snaps her out of the reading trance she was in, and she looks up, blinking around in confusion for a moment, as though trying to find the source of the grumbling. “To be fair, this is quite a good deal larger than your average high school library. I won’t fault you if you are having trouble finding something here. I will even go so far as to offer my assistance,” Mallory calls out lightly, her Oxford accented voice light with mirth. “What the...” A minor crash marks Aloke’s surprise, probably both at how late the morning has gotten already, and the sudden voice with him in the library. It sounds like a few books have tumbled free in the science section, but not a great number of them. Aloke pokes his head out from the end of the aisle, a sheepish grin on his face. “Ah, sorry! Ms Wintrhop, isn’t it? Sorry we have to meet while I’m ransacking your library. Aloke Suresh.” He offers a playful frown, and steps all the way out with an enormous tome which he has to carry with both hands. It really looks like it could have been a doorstop, or a car jack, in another life. “Actually, I would /love/ some help. I’ve… never had to do this kind of research before. I’ve never had to do anything more involved than art history,” the artist admits. A grimace crinkles Mallory’s fine features as she hears the crash, and she delicately sets her thermos of tea and book down on a nearby table (dangerously close to the ‘No Food or Drink’ sign). She makes her way in the direction of the crash, mentally bracing herself for another mess of shelves to be cleaned up, when Aloke pops his head out from the aisle. There’s a pause in her approach, as she regards the other teacher with a bemused smirk, resting one hand on her hip, “Yes, Mr. Suresh. I’m Mallory Winthrop, the relatively recently arrived librarian. Please, call me Mallory.” There’s a slightly nervous glance down the aisle, as though attempting to assess the damage, “And I assure you, there have been far worse initial meetings in libraries.” She smirks brightly, revealing slightly elongated canines, raising one impeccably groomed eyebrow at the massive tome, “What sort of research are you doing?” Aloke smiles at the introduction, the light in his eyes a little brighter than usual, and when he speaks, it seems to even be shining out of his mouth. Other than that, Aloke is dressed as normal, for him anyway. He's got a faded gray t-shirt on advertising The Dead Milkmen, tan cargo shorts, and he's barefoot. "And call me Aloke, please," he says, resting the uberbook on his shoulder so he can extend the other to shake. He grimaces a little when Mallory looks past him, down the aisle. Half a dozen books are in a pile on the floor, probably having fallen from that top shelf… yep, right up there. "Ah, sorry about those. This bad boy… was a lot heavier than I expected." He sets the huge book on a book cart in the aisle, and walks backward toward the mess he made, so he can talk to Mallory at the same time. "Well, Hank is helping me do some research regarding my mutation. The fun part is, the math doesn't add up /at all/. The range of expressions the Doctor's face can go through is fascinating, really." Aloke chuckles, and starts picking up books. The librarian smiles, accepting his handshake with a gently but firm one of her own, “Well, Aloke, it is a pleasure to meet you, even under such circumstances.” The soft, unblemished skin of Mallory’s hand is almost uncomfortably warm to the touch, and it is likely a little bit of a relief that the handshake is a brief touch, instead of a longer encounter. In the slightly failing light of the library, Mallory’s jet black eyes seem to spark with the slightest hint of glowing light, as though from failing coals somewhere deep within. She offers a smile, and shrugs, “It is not that much trouble. I will pick them up in a bit, or ask Faelan to get them back on the shelves once he arrives. If you want to help, just stack them near the shelf, and we’ll get them later.” Idly, the hooved woman scratches her ankle with one hoof, “He’s the one who tends to get saddled with reshelving things on the top - ladders and I do not always agree so well.” The reasoning behind the research gets a slightly surprised look, but she nods slowly, “Ah, unfortunately, I don’t know that the book you just acquired will be much help, depending on what your abilities are. It is not the most up to date of tomes. But, at the very least, a beast of a tome like that should not be kept so high on the shelves. This will give me a chance to reshelve it to a safer location.” Cracking her knuckles and grinning, Mallory gestures back towards the digital catalog, “Well, let me help you out, with finding some more up to date texts to help you out. What is your mutation, if I may ask? You don’t need to tell me, but it may make helping you a bit easier if I know what I am looking for, specifically.” The visibly mutated woman starts to walk in the direction of the computer Aloke had already been working on talking quietly as she moves, “I admit, I applaud your curiosity - I can’t say I’ve ever really wanted to look too far into the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of my mutations.” “Well,” Aloke begins, obviously happy to just restack his mess on the floor for Faelan later. “I go place to place at the speed of light. Actually, /as/ a beam of light. And… Hank and I are trying to look into the math of it, a little bit.” Aloke clears his throat and follows Mallory back to the reference section. “So, I’m looking for matter to energy conversion maths. Because Hank says nothing fits right.” Aloke chuckles and shrugs. “And, the research is more than curiosity, lately. I’ve started to… uh, transition, more often. Like, when I don’t mean to. It used to only happen when I was startled, and that hasn’t really happened much since I was /twenty/. But I’ve almost transitioned accidentally half a dozen times in the last week.” He shrugs, and tries to look over Mallory’s shoulder at the computer screen. Turning the chair in front of the computer around to let her sit sideways on it, Mallory starts typing as she listens to Aloke’s statements. “I see. So, you’re looking for largely theoretical physics, as well as texts possibly on scientific exploration of mutant powers?” she asks, typing in several search terms to the catalog, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the screen. “I include the second grouping, just because there is always the option of collaborating or consulting with those in the field. They may have seen something similar to your powers previously, and just never had reason to publish it.” There is a concerned glance when he mentions the accidental transformation, her wine colored lips pursed slightly as she tries to come up with how to respond to that. “I think, truthfully, that is one of my worst fears with my mutation. Were I to lose control, it would be disastrous,” she frowns deeply, turning her attention back to the computer screen and printing off a long list of books, before continuing to search, “Is it difficult to regain yourself, as it were, when you transition?” Her quiet voice carries the slightest hint that ‘too’ should be tacked on to that question, although she keeps her dark eyes focused on the screen in front of her. Aloke’s expression softens when the conversation turns to ‘out of control’. “I… yeah. Sometimes. Like, after a long trip. Sometimes. Hank thinks this might be related to me using my ability more now that I live here. I always tried not to use it too much when I lived in the city. Even… sort of pretended it didn’t exist. But the eyes… they make it sort of hard.” Aloke stops suddenly, realizing his describing how the tiniest visible mutation ever was making his life difficult - describing it to Mallory, who must /certainly/ understand how it feels to look in a mirror, let alone walk down a busy street, or into a crowded room. “Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think.” He shakes his head, and tries to re-rail the conversation. “So, Hank said we needed references for the math of energy conversions, since it can’t be created or destroyed. He thinks maybe I’m storing it up somehow?” Aloke shrugs. “Hm?” Mallory tilts her horned head slightly at the apology, apparently confused for a moment, “Oh. Oh, please, no need to apologize. I am what I am, and honestly, I have had to deal with it far less than most in my position - my family kept me largely covered and hidden my entire life.” She snorts slightly, a rueful grin on her lips, “Mostly for their own edification, but, that said, I do not begrudge others their troubles, or speaking of them.” She runs a hand idly along the length of one curling horn, grinning, “I have never looked human, Aloke, I’ve had well over two decades to become comfortable with my situation.” She falls quiet for a moment, squinting at the glowing screen again, grumbling mostly to herself, “I miss the physical card catalog. LED screens hurt my eyes sometimes.” A muffled, slightly exasperated sigh escapes her lips, “You and Hank should speak with my brother - he has a far better understanding of the science behind his transformation, than I do of mine. Does it hurt when you transition, or is it so instantaneous you don’t even get a chance to notice it?” She tilts her head slightly to the side, honest curiosity in her voice as she reaches over to the printer, retrieving the lists of books and essays, holding the papers out to Aloke, “This should, in theory, be at the very least a decent start. Double check the references in some of the shorter essays - it might point you in the direction of some texts we didn’t turn up initially.” Aloke nods, grateful for Mallory’s graceful response to his first dilemma. Then he grimaces slightly, and tries to grin at the same time. “Good lord, I’m /old/…” He chuckles and he looks on as Mallory works her magic. “A cad catalog would be amazing. SO much easier.” He nods as she explains more, and asks questions. “I’ll definitely talk to him about it, thanks. And, there isn’t any pain, really. Just a tingling. I guess it happens pretty fast, but I kind of lose a sense of time passing when it happens.” Aloke takes the papers with a grateful smile. “Wow, I think you just saved me an entire day of slogging through all this. Thank you /so much/.” Without thinking about the fact that they’ve only just met, Aloke’s gratitude compels him to go in for a hug. Nevermind personal space, or other awkwardness. Besides, the hug is the least weird thing happening right now. Maybe because he realizes the forwardness, or maybe just because, whatever the reason, Aloke transitions while hugging Mallory. Both of them are converted in an instant to a shimmering beam of light. They only blip about 6 feet to the side, in a span of real time hardly measurable by most clocks anywhere. But to their frame of reference, the movement feels both instant, and eternal, at the same time. The experience is infinitely surreal, as time stretches, dilates, and snaps back into place when they rematerialize over by the table. Aloke gasps and releases Mallory. “Oh shit, I’m /so sorry/…” he says, barely able to catch his breath from shock. “I learned on card catalogs, this newer computer stuff,” Mallory says with a shrug and a displeased face as she regards this “newfangled” technology. Aloke’s thanks bring a bright smile to her face, and she nods and chuckles, “It is what I’m here for. Glad to be able to help out a fellow teacher.” The hug catches her off guard, and she startles briefly, before chuckling and returning the hug, admittedly with a bit of awkwardness in her motion. She is extremely warm to the touch, going beyond the point of being feverish, and the temperature would likely be a bit uncomfortable to be in contact with for longer than just a few moments. And then, in a completely shocking transition, Mallory is suddenly standing beside the table, just a short distance away. She sucks in a shocked breath as they materialize, her dark eyes having gone wide in surprise - perhaps more noticeable in the moments that Aloke is still maintaining the hug, is that Mallory’s temperature has skyrocketed. She has gone from unhealthy fever to a level usually only experienced by close calls with hot ovens or pans - it is almost certainly briefly painful to be in contact with her. She lets go as soon as she realizes what has happened, taking a stumbling step back, still panting slightly from shock, echoing Aloke’s statement exactly, “Oh. Shit. I’m so sorry. I… did I burn you? I am so, so sorry.” Dark eyes look around the library, trying to find the nearest exit, her breathing becoming more ragged, “Oh, bollocks. I… I need to get outside. I cannot do this, not right now. Not… not in here. Too dangerous.”
Mallory grimaces at the suggestion, glancing around at the kindling… er, library with a pained look. “I can’t swim. But I can’t… not here. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to hold it together long enough for you to get away if we do that again,” she says between gasps, her breathing and speaking sounding incredibly pained, “Get me to the pool, but don’t drop me in it. Will… pass out. Deadweight. Then get away from me. Godihopetherearen’tkidsthere.” She takes the offered hand - touching her feels not entirely unlike shoving one’s hand into a roaring bonfire, “I’mso sorry.” Aloke winces at the pain of touching her skin, his own skin blistering instantly, but nods at her request. They pass through the library window, around the grounds, and right through the high windows above the pool. A split second later, Aloke has deposited her right next to the 3 foot deep shallow area, and is blinking in and out of the pool, removing swimmers as fast as he can, regardless of age or status. In about a second, everyone else in the pool is outside, looking in through the glass. <XS> Pool - B1 Like any indoor pool, the room is lined with tile and smells faintly of chlorine, the rippling water occasionally casting wavy reflections across the walls when the sun shines through the high, narrow windows at just the right angle. Unlike many, the facility is respectably large, of Olympic length and of sufficient breadth for a respectable number of lanes, with an array of retractable diving boards set up at the deep end. Aloke is collapsed on the far end of the pool. This is where he wound up when he came in to look for any other stragglers. He is vaguely conscious as he looks up at Mallory across the length of the room. “They’re… out…” And now so is Aloke. Passed out on the poolside. As she had warned, there are only moments to get people away from her general vicinity, especially given the mode of transportation. Mallory releases Aloke’s hand as quickly as she can, although she is painfully hot even to be near at this time, likely inducing more blisters in her fellow teacher. She claws at her chest, breath coming out in ragged gasps as she hunches over, dark eyes welling up with tears - the twisted expression on her face suggests that she would be screaming, were she able to catch her breath. The flames begin at the tips of her fingers, the points of her curling ram’s horns, and the tip of her tail, quickly spreading to her dress and her hair. A look of resigned agony grips Mallory’s face, as she closes her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks even as the flames continue to consume her; it seems to be an agonizingly slow process, for any still watching the librarian’s transformation. Soon, though, she looks even more like a creature of nightmares than normal, retaining her typically demonic form, but instead being made of roiling flames, her eyes still charred black ember suspended in the seething flames. Quite predictably, a few of the students run for it at this point, and will likely be less interested in English classes or Library studies at this point. She glances down at her hand, and seems to slump slightly, and in a far quicker process than it took to initially transform, The flames seem to be snuffed out, leaving Mallory standing by the poolside, skin looking a violently red color, as though she had suffered from an extremely severe sunburn. Her clothes, however, seem to have failed to make the return trip, a fact she realizes after a long moment. Reluctantly, she stumbles into the pool, wincing and clumsy, before sinking below the water, so only her horned head peeks above the surface, her long black hair fanning out to obscure some of her form. Steam rises from the surface, as Mallory glares out across the pool at the now sleeping Aloke. “Dammit.” Aloke groans, and his eyes snap open at the sound of hissing water. He looks around blearily for a long moment before he everything comes rushing back to him. “Oh hell…” he murmurs, and hauls himself to his feet. His clothes are soaked, and his right hand is cradled against his body, possibly enjoying the cold of his wet clothes. It looks like his forearm is blistered to the elbow. Shuffling along, his goal becomes clear. He’s headed to the rack of towels on one wall. But /walking/ places just takes /forever/. On the way, he peels off his soaked shirt and wraps it around his arm and hand. He winces, but the additional coolness and lack of air contact seem to help. “Mallory… I am /so/ sorry…” He’s barely loud enough to be heard, and it sounds like he’s hoarse. Finally, he makes it to the towels and grabs three big fluffy ones. When he approaches Mallory’s end of the pool, he winces again at the marks on the concrete poolside. Two cloven hoof prints burned into the surface there. He slumps to a kneeling position, and does his best with only one hand to put the towels out for her. Mallory is not graceful in the water, but she seems to be doing alright for someone who cannot swim; she does not look particularly thrilled about being in the water, even as the steam stops rising from the water around her. For several long moments, she just watches Aloke’s movement around the edge of the pool, her dark eyes glowing the faint orange of dying embers. As he kneels beside the pool, Mallory starts to move closer to the exit stairs, still keeping herself at least vaguely covered by the water and her hair. “I am so, so sorry,” she says finally, looking at his wrapped up arm, still staying in the cooling water of the pool for a few moments longer, her skin rapidly fading from the burnt red to the normal smooth shadowed red tone, as though it were healing quite quickly. “Thank you. For getting the towels. And getting me out to the pool,” she glances around, trying to see if there were still lingering students nearby, “Though you may want to look away, so I can get out before I boil away the water.” Assuming he does as asked, she will make her way out of the pool, quickly wrapping herself in the provided towels as modestly as she can. And then very shakily sinks to sit on the concrete beside the pool, looking exhausted, “As I said. There are worse ways to meet someone than finding them knocking books off the shelves.” (fin) | |
