ArchivedLogs:Impasse

Impasse
Dramatis Personae Rictor, Shane	2015-08-14 "We should probably talk."
Location <XS> Forest
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. Out here, the noises are different. A breeze cuts through the treetops, rattling leaves and sending nettles falling to the hard earth. Birds tweet and caw. Somewhere, something larger and furrier scurries through a bush. << That's right, >> thinks Rictor. << Plenty of food that way >>. Out here, there isn't all the infighting and resentment, nor the hope and promise, felt among those associating with Xavier's. The past week has left the place even more of a hotbed of emotions, percolating into something yet to be seen. << Finally, a moment to myself >>. Today, Rictor takes a break from all of that to hike, something he hasn't done really since his arrival. So busy with students and faculty, lesson planning and danger rooming, he forgot how much a simple walk through the woods could clear his mind. And so he does just that, booted footsteps crunching as he moves along through a path carved amongst the trees around the school. He hasn't gone far, and he hasn't been out for long, but already his movements are more relaxed than they have been in a little while. Among the other woodland noises, something bigger moves -- a brief low growl, a swift rustle of leaves, an abrupt snap-crunch. The brief terrified squeal that this elicits barely has time to sound before being snuffed out. For a moment, the smaller forest creatures fall into silence. Just for a moment. The birds pick back up again, surely enough. And then very soft footsteps twining a lazily aimless path through the forest floor -- though as Shane comes into sight from further in the woods he stops, clawed hand curling tighter around the limp furry body of a hare grasped in one hand. He's dressed minimally, black lycra shorts, no shoes, no shirt. Webbed toes curl down into the dirt, his enormous dark eyes widening to take in Rictor. His nostrils flare on a small sniff, hand lowering to his side where it had started to lift towards his mouth. Slooowblink. The snap-crunch and the squeal aren't so much heard as they are felt. Rictor blinks and turns his head toward the source, but the excitement doesn't break his steady movement down the path. Plod, plod, plod. What does manage to stop Rictor in his tracks is the appearance of his webbed teammate and the recently deceased hare. Whatever loosened in him over the past moments, whatever stress washed away, reverses course in an instant. "Shane," the man says, striking a single deep note. "How's it going?" A glance to the hare, then back to Shane. His voice isn't hostile, but it's far from friendly. Shane's weight shifts slowly back onto his back foot, heel sliding behind him. His gills flare open, then close again, gaze fixed up on Rictor to study the older man's posture. There's a slowly growing tension creeping into his own form that was not previously there, either, manifested mostly where claws dig into hare-pelt, toes press into ground, shoulders pull a little straighter. "S'good hunting, out here." A small hitch of shrug, up through one shoulder. "Best part's usually no people." His tone mostly is kind of bland. His gills flutter again. "... You?" "That's best part for me, too," Rictor says quickly, with bite. He teeters a bit, weight shifting front to back to front again. There's little about him that looks comfortable, yet he stands his ground, considering the young man in front of him. After a moment, a long, thin breath escapes Rictor. He quickly licks his lips and blinks. "You and I," he starts with unsure words. "We should probably talk." His hands tighten into fists, then open again, and something in the man does actually relax, as if just a bit pressure was released from some unseen valve. "Yes, and I came out here just to ruin it for you." Shane's tone stays just as bland, though now his claws are tearing into the skin of the carcass in his hand. "Surely at least one of the other teachers must have told you by now. Ruining /everything/ is pretty much my MO." His eyes narrow slightly at Rictor's words, though. His weight shifts back further, lips thinning as his head cants slightly to one side. He fetches a shoulder up against the trunk of a nearby tree, tipping his head down to examine his hare instead. "What about?" Rictor's lips tighten into a thin line, which loosens only after a moment. "I can't say those were the exact words used..." His voice trails off, though it does so on not so serious a note. Something it suggests an unexpected ease in the conversation. "I wrote some things that pissed you off, you did the same. Nothing was ever resolved and I'd prefer it not lie around and fester." Rictor eyes the fellow mutant closely, looks poised to go on the defensive. There's a small tug upwards at the corner of Shane's mouth. He leans more heavily against the tree, shifting his grip on his hare. One hand lifts, sharp black claws starting to slice in earnest into the hide, quick and practiced in the tears he makes to start pulling the skin off. "I piss off a lot of people. Kinda just how it goes. But I spend most of my life pissed off, so it's probably only fair." His teeth flash, though the smile he gives Rictor is kind of thin. A little strained. "What part -- exactly -- got /you/ in a tizzy?" The way he leans on that word suggests heavily that Rictor is perhaps not the /first/ faculty member to be less-than-pleased with Shane's contributions to the conversation. Rictor can't help but, for a moment, watch Shane skin his hare so effortlessly before answering. It's a fascinating thing to watch, if not a little unsettling. When he does try to catch the other man's gaze again, his own eyes widen at the invitation. "A tizzy? I'd start with the way you handled your response. Maybe you are pissed all the time, but I don't agree that it's fair to unload on everyone else that way. At least not in a faculty discussion thread." He shrugs and crosses his arms, taping one finger against his arm. "Still, I guess I'm glad you voiced your thoughts rather than not at all." "Fff." The next rip of skin is a little more fierce than is probably necessary. "That," Shane informs Rictor, contrastingly mild in his tone, "is the biggest crock of bullshit. I was goddamn /polite/ compared to what these motherfuckers deserve. And I don't go in for this tone-policing crap -- oh, you know, it's okay to voice your thoughts but make sure you phrase it /just/ so and do it with a smile and the right tone of voice." He leaves the disembodied skin in a small heap at his feet, raw naked carcass dangling now from his hand. "The /faculty/ at this school has been shitting on kids like me as long as I've been here. They could /stand/ to hear we're goddamn pissed off." Now his grin is wider. Quick and broad and toothy. "... But I'm sorry fuck-words get you bothered. Next time someone's stepping on me, I'll make sure to say /please/ if I want them to stop." Rictor narrows his eyes, his finger stops tapping against his arm, and yeah, he looks pissed. "Fuck words don't get me bothered, Shane. Disrespect and a bad attitudes do." He takes a step forward, eyes fixed on other mutant, apparently indifferent to the carcass he's carrying. "Maybe you're right in what you say. Maybe this school hasn't been fair all around and maybe things do need to change. I'm inclined to agree. But if you think acting like an ass is going to change anything you're wrong. You can call people names and drop f-bombs all you want, but what are you /actually/ doing, Shane?" "Fucking /disrespect/? Bad /attitude/? I am sick to my /goddamn/ gills of people talking at me about disrespect. Like respect is something I /owe/ anyone. You know what the fucking problem is with that word?" Shane's ridged brows have lifted. "Is that people don't always use it the same way. Because /sometimes/, /respect/ means treating somebody like a gorram human being and sometimes it means treating someone like an /authority/ and since the day I fucking got here every-damn-teacher's all about the if-you-don't-respect-me-I-won't-respect-you. But what they /actually/ mean is if I don't treat them like an /authority/ they won't treat me like a fucking /person/. And I have never shown anyone the /second/ kind of disrespect but fuck if I'm going to give anyone the first without earning it. I didn't call /anyone/ goddamn names in the whole of that discussion. I just didn't /couch/ my opinion in the appropriate deference and /that/ pissed people the fuck off. Pissed you the fuck off, apparently." He lifts his hare halfway to his mouth, teeth bared -- stops short, though, of taking a bite. Lowers it again to swing by his side. "So /you/ can call me names if you like, you're sure as hell not the first. I've got a thick skin. I'll deal. What I /won't/ just sit and deal with anymore, though, is seeing how goddamn many kids at this school end up back in the sewers or -- the fucking /Brotherhood/ -- because /this/ place -- that likes to sit around and pat themselves on the back about what a wonderful sanctuary we've created -- treats us with barely more /actual/ respect than the world outside does. And then /wonders/ why we have a /bad fucking attitude/." Rictor makes a sound halfway between a snort and a cough and shakes his head. "Boo hoo. You know what I'm sick of? This whole angry, rebellious crap you're throwing at me. You don't want to have a conversation with me? Fine. You don't want to treat my thoughts like they're worth hearing? Also fine." Here, Rictor actually points glaringly at Shane. "Buried under all that anger and blame you actually have a point to make, but there's a whole lot of whining in the way. Do. Something. But don't for one second think you're the only one who cares about the people at this school because you're dead wrong." "Christ, like you're the first fucking teacher to tell me I'd be worth listening to if I got a better fucking /attitude/. You've been back here for all of, what, the fucking /summer/? And you're gonna roll up in here telling me to Do. Something. as though the two seconds you've known me is the sum total of everything /I've/ done at this school." Shane lifts his hare again, this time tearing off a mouthful. "Buried under all that condescension /you/ might actually have a point to make, but there's a whole lot of sententious bullshit in the way. So I guess we're at an impasse." Rictor raises a brow at some of the things he just heard, looks ready to say something, but thinks better of it, opting for just a, "Guess so," instead. He eyes the hare, now with a bloody chunk taken out of it, and sighs. "And since this is going nowhere, I'm heading back. Enjoy the rest of that." He turns to leave down the bit of path he's already walked, back toward the school. After a few stops, though, he stops and turns around, this time with a more sincere grin on his face. "I guess if there's one thing we can agree on today, it's that we both can make really shitty first impressions." This draws another grin from Shane, quick and easy (albeit, now, a little bit bloody.) "Kinda goes hand in hand with the ruining-everything. I'm -- what people charitably call an /acquired/ taste." He tears off another mouthful of meat, waggling his hand (and its slowly vanishing carcass) in a lazy wave. "But I guess we're stuck with each other long enough to make plenty of second ones. See ya."