ArchivedLogs:Shaky Russian

Shaky Russian
Dramatis Personae Dorofei, Peter, Rasa	2013-06-07 A concerned parent drops in. (Part of Them! TP)
Location <XS> School 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. The weather is frightfully nice, the atmosphere among students all /sorts/ of pleasant - the time of year helps with both of these - but one individual upon the school grounds seems to be enjoying /neither/. He /marches/ up the main path that leads inward from the gates, steps heavy and determined. So determined, in fact, that it causes three students to /circle/ 'round and off the path a little when he heads in their direction, fists clenched and eyes scanning the grounds like /nobody's business/. It might be that he looks like he's about to /interrogate them/. Or scoop them up and crush them into tiny little cubes. He looks like he'd be capable of either. A very large man by human standards, he's dressed like he TRIED to look presentable but wasn't quite sure how to pull it off. A /thin/ white and dark blue plaid shirt tucked halfway into his jeans, and a leather suitcase by his side that's had its edges damaged over what looks like must have been many years. It looks oddly small in his big hands, and if it's heavy, its carrier shows no sign of it. His hair's been cropped so short it's hard to see what colour it even is, and his blue eyes dart from face to face. Occasionally it looks like he's about to lift a hand and stop someone, but- students choosing to walk around him don't make this overly easy. His expression pulls into a frown. It does not suit his face. A face... that is perhaps strangely familiar to some of the people here. Ivan may not have inherited much in the way of stature, but by facial features alone? This guy pretty much /screams/ Russian Bug Boy Parent by recognisable factor alone. Rasa sits upon the stairs with a small bag of hir own, a back pack, really, filled with enough clothes for a day, maybe two, plus hir toothbrush and various toiletries. Ze is still gray, despite the prospect of fun having with hir friends in the city, hir hair the color of wet concrete, hir eyes just a handful of shades darker than the whites surrounding them. The rest of hir is colorful though, a magenta, ruffled, off the shoulder shirt sits on hir shoulders and cinches in at the waist before flaring asymmetrically around hir waist, yellow gloves around hir hands and forearms. Hir legs are covered with vivid blue, swishy pants, with thong sandals of a gold color. around hir shoulders are scarves, ready and able to cover hir head and upper torso with fabric, disguising hir from view, but on campus, it just isn't necessary. Rasa looks up when ze hears the scuffling of students that are drawing away from the Russian Bug Boy Parent, hir eyebrows climbing high on hir forehead as ze starts to really pay attention. Hir eyes narrow and ze lets go of hir bag, slowly getting to hir feet and approaching the man, quiet and unsure. Ze hangs back until his hand starts to raise, here and then there, and finally, ze steps forward. "Ah, excuse me. Sir?" Ze begins, raising a hand toward him, a colorful cloud of random fabrics. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to bother you, but you look very much like you could be Ivan's father." Ze swallows hard, hir voice timid and hir tendency to hang back warring very much with hir desire to shake the facts out of him. "Are you … here for Ivan?" Upon being addressed, the man's shoulders fall slightly. His eyes lock onto Rasa and what proceeds is very much the mixed look of someone who is utterly unashamed to stare at people and... the look of someone who is still quite unfamiliar with physical mutations. He momentarily tears his eyes away from hir to look around - like he's suspecting she might be part of a similarly grey-tinted /herd/ - and then finally proceeds to approach her. His gait does not suggest him to be careful man, and he's practically STORMING toward hir all up until the point that, suddenly, he's not. Because he'd crash into hir if he went any further. A smile only comes /after/ that, though it's marred by the fact that it's one of attempted manners alone. Impatience is clear as day in the way he squares back his shoulders and cocks his head to the side slightly as ze speaks. He opens his mouth, closes it again, /frowns/, and repeats the process again. Eyebrows crumpling toward each other, he finally manages, "Da." There is a nod to go along with that, his voice much deeper but still similar to his son's. "I... here, for Ivan." 'Ee-vahn'. He watches hir face closely as he says this, as if it may speak clearer to him than hir language. He /puffs his chest out/, appearing for a moment even larger than he already is. With the way he's scrutinizing her, it almost looks like he's forming some solid plans to /beat hir up/. His voice suggests otherwise- it's a half successful attempt to sound gentle beneath an accent still more jarring and heavier than Ivan's, "Missing. I stay here, ah--..." His eyebrows fall. He promptly sticks out his right hand and leaves it there, as other words /fail/ him. "Dorofei." "Ahh!" Rasa sticks out hir hand as well, providing Dorofei with a firm handshake despite hir (in comparison to him) diminuitive size. "You're the Dorofei that makes him Dorofeevich." Hir smile warms as some of the confusion clears up. When ze speaks the name, it is pronounced well, something ze has practiced. When the handshake is over, ze clasps hir hands behind hir back. "I am Rasa. I know Ivan well." Ze goes as far as to pronounce it 'Ee-vahn' as well. Ze then turns to half way look at the school, raising an arm to gesture to it. "Shall I take you in? Help you find a teacher, or perhaps Professor Xavier himself?" Ze glances back at him, questioning. The firm handshake appears to be something the man appreciates, his eyebrows /staying/ low but chin lifting slightly. The correct pronunciations actually puts a genuine smile on his face, warm and bright as he towers over hir. This time, it stays, even if there are undertones of subdued worry still remaining. A few seconds after the mention of hir name, his eyebrows raise as far as they'll go. Apparently rendering him deaf for the following questions (if he even understands them in the first place), because the next thing he does is spread his arms at no one in particular, as if to say 'LOOK. LOOK AT THIS.' Before one hand clamps back onto his face to scrub against it, the other moving to gesture at Rasa. "/Rasa/! He say- Ivan say MANY-- THINGS!" WORDS. Amusement pushes through the concern on his face, and his hands move AGAIN, this time to grab for Rasa's shoulders. Pretty /tightly/, if successful. It is very lucky that Dorofei is so demonstrative. It is easy to see when he seems to be ready to grab hir, hir hands shifting quickly to drape one of the coverings around hir neck down and around hir shoulders, keeping a layer of fabric between hirself and the giant, excited man. "Yes. /That/ Rasa." Ze confirms, a wince hiding in hir amusement at his reaction. "I hope the things were good," ze mentions almost in an asided. "Please be careful of my skin. Skin? Ivan tell you about my skin?" Here’s what Peter sees from the rooftop of Xavier manor: A large, brutish looking Russian man charging up to Rasa, briefly exchanging words, and now -- with a very /intense/ expression -- reaching out to grab hir by the shoulders and possibly SHAKE. Peter crawls down preeeetty quickly; it /would/ be hard to see him, except for his head -- shiny, /gleaming/ in direct sunlight. He’s wearing his red hoodie, blue jeans, and two-toed socks -- along with -- those nifty little wrist-watches of his! Scuttle, scuttle, and suddenly he’s over Rasa and Dorofei’s heads, speaking in -- what sounds like broken, but manageable, Russian: “{Ivan father?}” Then: “Rasa are you okay?” Dorofei holds Rasa like ze's an object he's trying to get a better look at, before giving hir a quick little /shake/ and letting go again. Maybe he's testing hir for durability. "Yes! Good things, very good-- /skin/? Is it danger?" He looks slightly puzzled, then suddenly /utterly/ displeased as his eyebrows plummet. Just in time for Peter to interject. "{Hell!}" He barks upward in Russian, arms going wide again as he startles, stepping back to peer upward at the scuttling boy. Very much like he's maybe never seen someone /scuttling/ before, let alone on something that isn't the floor. It /may/ be keeping him from answering the question he's been asked. His joyous demeanor has gone in a flash. "Peter!" Rasa's reply is short and quick, almost like Dorofei's bark, but less offensive, really. Ze stumbles back a step when released but does get hir footing pretty quickly. "Come down here and meet him properly." Perturbed, ze straightens the wrap around hir shoulders in case of grabbing recursion and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "This is Dorofei Dravovich, Ivan's father." Ze of course continues to pronounce the names with a semi-decent Russian accent, even if that's all ze can manage. "Do you speak Russian?" That is of course to Peter. Ze looks back at Dorofei and nods slowly to him, perhaps seeking eye contact. "not... dangerous, per se, but it does funny things. I am safe, just..." and then there is a pause as ze tries to think of a good word for it. "I change shape when people touch me." There. That's good, right? "This is Peter Parker, Ivan's roommate." “Ah!” Peter responds, rather suddenly, at Dorofei’s exclamation -- and he proceeds to scuttle /backwards/ a bit! But then Rasa’s talking and Peter’s head is swiveling to listen to hir, and -- claaaambor, slowly back down, before -- hup! He jumps off the wall and lands on his feet, crouched but soon straightening. With a hesitant smile. “Uh, I’ve only taken like a semester so far,” he mentions to Rasa, “but Ivan’s been helping me with --” He pauses, shifting his attention back to Dorofei, holding out his hand. “Peter. Uh. {Ivan friend.}” Then, thinking a moment, he flails his other hand in the direction of Rasa. “{Weird skin bad touch?}” EYEBROWS scrunching. As if trying to figure out if that -- even makes sense. Whether Dorofei understands exactly what Rasa says unfortunately remains a mystery, because the confused look he shoots hir is sadly unspecific. He observes the two teenagers talking like he's trying his hardest to understand, but the English words appear to hit him faster than he can infer their meaning. One of his brows raises slightly at Peter's smattering of Russian, however, and he straightens to shake the boy's hand, leftover frustration leaking through into the firmness of his grip. Peter, too, gets a look-over. He's likely determined by now that this place is /weird/, and so are the students, if his face is anything to go by. "'Room mate'." He repeats, looking from Peter, to Rasa, then to Peter again. Examining with narrowing eyes. "{The one he stays with. Good, good. I didn't know you looked so strange. God damned boy never tells me anything.}" There's a twitch of anger that brings his shoulders forward, but his tone of voice remains largely unconcerned. Then, to both of them, his expression expectant and hard, "Do you hear- new? From Ivan." "... No." Rasa takes a big, deep breath and exhales, deflating. "Nothing new." Ze looks over at Peter, brows creeping up hir forehead, waiting for his report. Hir arms cross over hir abdomen, lips pressing tightly together before ze starts to gnaw on hir lower lip. Ze just looks away when the Russian words start peppering conversation between the other two. Peter’s brow /furrows/ as he listens to Dorofei speak; Peter usually manages to pick out one word for every three, and can -- with a bit of time -- manage to ferret out the gist of a sentence via context. “Roommate,” he repeats, affirmatively -- skin darkening to a violet as he picks out the words ‘strange’, ‘god damned’, and ‘tells’. He glances to Rasa at hir answer -- then back to Dorofei, /veeeery/ carefully: “We think -- we don’t, um. Know -- {Teachers look for him,}” Peter says, gesturing to the building behind him. “{Many teachers.}” Then, to Rasa: “I /think/ -- Jax was looking for stuff around -- you remember Tatters? Um, and Anole? Where they live -- he was going down there with Nox, and...” Then, back to Dorofei, Peter’s eyebrows still furrowed: “{They will find.}” He gestures at himself! “{Was gone. They find. Found,}” he corrects himself. Both of the students get examined now, as though Dorofei suspects them of /lying/. Or perhaps he's doing the same thing Peter is, trying to fish meaning out from wherever it is not immediately clear. But what IS clear is that, when he speaks again, he is /not amused/. "{You-- were gone too? That's just... great.}" His frown implies he doesn't, in fact, think this is great. He makes no effort to slow down his speech, or simplify his sentences. "{Where did you go? Did 'many teachers' look for /you/ too? Did you go to the same place? Have they looked /there/ yet?}" He turns to face Peter head on, now reaching for /his/ shoulders. Not with intent to harm, but certainly to hold. Poor Rasa is forgotten for the moment, as he focuses what appear to be the beginnings of a run-away temper on his son's roommate alone, his voice lowering and tone incredulous. "{Do you do this for fun, disappearing? Is this what you /teach him/?}" "Peter, what did you say to him?" Rasa looks confused and bewildered and flat out worried. "Please, I'm sorry, whatever he said. He just talks too much sometimes. Whatever it was, I'm sorry." Rasa reaches out for one of Dorofei's arms - but stops hirself, just hovering at his elbow instead. Ze cringes and hovers and almost reaches out again, unsure and certainly concerned. “Aaah, aaah, aaah,” Peter says -- not /loudly/, but certainly with surprise, eyes wide as his shoulders are seized, eyebrows /zooming/ up. “I -- I don’t know I’m not -- very good with Russian!” he tells Rasa, a little panicky. Hands reach up to grasp Dorofei’s arms, not /hard/ but in kind of a ‘okay! We’re holding each other now!’ sort of way. “{Words not understand!}” Peter tells Dorofei, before adding: “{Slow!}” Then: “Everybody’s looking for Ivan they’ll find him, Mr. -- um -- Ivan’s dad,” Peter says, /already/ forgetting the name Rasa supplied. “{Ivan friend. /Will/ find.}” A quick, frantic look to Rasa: “I think he thinks -- I know where Ivan is? I don’t know oh my God Russian is confusing.” Dorofei flinches when Rasa reaches for him, but he doesn't move. Instead, he shoots her a look with both eyebrows arches upward somewhat surprised, and /very/ skeptically. Like he's watching a tiny chihuahua attempting to jump and nip at a Great Dane's face. Go on, then. Then, his eyes land back on the other teenager's face. Staring intently. He MAY be pondering on seeing how far he'd be able to throw a Peter, by the way his fingers are digging into those shoulders. Maybe over the fence, if he REALLY TRIES. "{Peter. Rasa.}" He speaks slower this time, whether or not it is necessary, as if while he's saying it he's counting to five very, very slowly in his head. "{Thank you. I'm going, now.}" One of his hands lets go, to be swung roughly in the same direction Rasa pointed earlier - the building up ahead. "{To find people who know what the hell is going on.}" The grip of his other hand curls yet harder around Peter's shoulder for a moment, before it too, is let go. Then, he picks up his suitcase, and simply leaves without another word. Maybe familiar. Rasa hands remain somewhat lifted in the air even as Dorofei begins gesturing again, toward the school. They remain somewhat suspended in the air as he starts to walk away. Hir eyes study the slope of his shoulders and the tilt of his head, and the expression on his face, what little ze can see of it as he starts to walk away. Hir hands finally fall to hir side, eyes blinking wildly. "He... Ivan... wow. They are so much alike." And ze looks sadder for it. "What did he say?" “Aaaah,” Peter repeats, to Dorofei; eyes still wide. When he releases, and speaks, and seems to -- be forcing himself to calm down -- Peter steps back, giving him SPACE. To stomp off. Quietly. To Rasa, Peter responds: “Um. He’s -- going, now. To find -- people. Who know things. I think? Um, yeah.” He pauses again, before adding: “/Man/ Ivan’s family is weird.” "You're weird," Rasa replies.