Logs:At every meeting at the outer edges / of what we call our self a new page lies between, / waiting.

At every meeting at the outer edges / of what we call our self a new page lies between, / waiting.
Thomas, Mark. "When We Meet". 23-25.
Dramatis Personae Natsumi, Roscoe, Sriyani	2024-04-03 "We can totally go stare at the sun."
Location <NYC> Freaktown - Riverdale
It's a pretty miserable day, cold and wet, and maybe that's not the greatest weather to go traipsing off to the city. It would certainly be awful weather for hoofing it to the train station or waiting twenty minutes at a bus stop, but, thankfully, this particular transit route has a direct connect from a second floor hallway straight to one of the boisterous common houses. For just a moment, the elegant wood paneled walls of the mansion are visible instead of the closet that this was. Sriyani, in chunky green sweater and jeans and black boots, is tumbling out of one house of freaks into a wholly different one. This particular common space is an expansive basement level, anarchically refitted like some kind of quixotic indoor playground -- there's a large ball pit in one corner and in another the floor itself, though still looking much like the wood it is ostensibly made of, bounces trampoline-like underfoot; there are myriad tunnels and planks and colorful rope bridges crisscrossing the walls and high ceilings and none of the furniture seems designed for Heterosexual Sitting, composed largely of hammocks and swings and the like. Several of the people already lounging in the space are doing so at odd angles -- one girl clings to a wall directly in the corner, one young boy as he crosses to the door is bouncing lightly from ledge to ledge with no evident respect for gravity, and though Sriyani is very much solidly landbound themselves by dint of mutation, maybe their proclivities incline them to this particular house all the same because they're promptly scaling a rope ladder to perch on a higher ledge with the lunch they've pilfered from Xavier's lunch hall. "Do you think if Mr. Tessier doesn't come back his history class is just a free A?" they're asking as if that particular course isn't one everyone picks for the Basically Free A already. Roscoe is wearing sidestripe joggers and a too-big, plain-white T-shirt that seem well-calculated for indoor playgrounds of unknown cleanliness, but probably this is just how he dresses. In lieu of dining-hall lunch, he has a packet of instant noodles that he has simply been snacking on in its uncooked and crunchy state -- as he follows Sriyani out of the hallway-neé-closet (he hesitates before shutting the door behind himself) he is staring around the room with wide eyes. His mutation does not lend itself to scaling walls either, but he does give the ball pit a dubious squint as he passes it, wrinkling his nose. He climbs the ladder awkwardly one-handed, still holding his half-eaten noodle block in the other (perhaps it doesn't occur to him to hand it up to Sriyani to hold, perhaps he wouldn't do so even if he had thought of that) and finally pulls himself up next to them on the ledge. "Jeez, how long is the mourning period for whites?" he says, then declares, "I hope it's a free A, I got enough going on." This is probably false. There's a plastic-and-goo sticky man toy that has been splatted to the wall not far from where Sriyani and Roscoe have made their perch. It's been just kind of hanging there leaving its faint slug-slime discoloration on the paint as it waits slooowly for gravity to pull it back flopping down to the floor. When the X-Kids clamber up, though, the toy is detaching itself in some minor defiance of gravity, wobble-splatting sideways rather than down as it moves a little closer to the ledge. Then, abruptly, falls unceremoniously to the floor, jolting away from its cling oddly as if startled -- no trademark slinky-crawl down the wall, just FLUMP to make a quiet clattersplat where it falls. A minute later there's a trapdoor opening in the ceiling, another teenager (dressed in black-and-rainbow-striped dress with a colorfully patched jean jacket over top, huge colorful mismatched earringst in her ears and hair pulled up in messy bun atop her head) scrambling halfway down the ladder that drops out before swinging over to a rope bridge and scurrying over. Natsumi's eyes are a little wide and she's peering dubiously towards the kids on the ledge before a smile tentatively breaks across her face. "Roscoe? 'zat you?" Sriyani only passingly glances towards the fallen toy, reflexively shifting towards the unexpected motion before clocking that it is Not A Thread. They've just been about to dig into the tupperware of pasta they've brought with them when the ceiling opens and now it's Natsumi they're looking towards, squinting over to try and get a better look at the girl's patched-up jacket. "Your earrings are super cool," they're saying cheerfully, and, "your jacket is super cool," and then as if this has triggered a sudden confusion they are looking from Natsumi -- to Roscoe -- to Natsumi. Their nose scrunches, mouth twisting slightly to one side. "Roscoe, you know this person?" The emphasis they're suddenly putting on the you is perhaps not flattering. Roscoe leans over his lap to blink down at the toy before twisting his head sharp up at the trapdoor, then glancing straight above him, eyes big at -- is there a whole tunnel network up there, or something? -- and then big at Natsumi, his head tilted owlishly. It takes him a moment to put a name to this face -- "Natsumi?" but then he grins toothily back -- "Yo! Hey, stranger." He takes Sriyani's confusion largely in stride, gesturing with his noodle packet -- "This is Natsumi I knew her in -- when were you again? Twenty-twenty... two, I think? This," he is saying to Natsumi now, "Sriyani, they're one of those Lassiter Sixteen kids." "Yeah, it was a while ago," Natsumi is saying heftily of the ancient days of twenty twenty two. "Where'd you finally end up, how've you been?" Her eyes widen at Roscoe's introduction and she is looking at Sriyani for the first time, only now perking up at those compliments and drawing a hand down one of the many decorative patches on the jacket (this one, a large hibiscus flower). "Ho, really?" She moves a little closer, dropping down to kind of half-sit half-flop on the rope bridge with legs dangling down and arms hooked over one of the next rungs. "You're the reason we're all citizens again now?" She's peering at Sriyani with a mild echo of the same confusion the other teen just directed at Roscoe. "When we all heard about -- I mean, that sounded totally insane." "Wellll -- I mean, it was Mr. Jackson who," Sriyani is starting to say, but then decides with a small shrug, "Huh. I guess we kind of are." Their brow creases at this, deep, but they're swiftly setting aside whatever cascade of thought it's triggered to acknowledge without embarrassment, "It was totally insane. We were acting on some incorrect information. Roscoe totally helped us survive Lassiter. Do you live here now?" They're waggling their camping spork around the chaotic common house, voice tinged with jealousy. Roscoe swings his feet cheerfully even as he informs Natsumi, "Still at Lassiter, the whole time. -- Where did you end up? I asked the guards but --" perhaps his shrug does not need elaboration. He gives Sriyani a sharply amused side-eye -- "What the hell incorrect information?" Then -- like he is watching a ping-ping match -- he turns his head back toward Natsumi curiously -- "How you end up out here?" "Nooooo." Natsumi's eyes have widened, her face scrunching up in sympathy. "The whole time? Oh my gosh it is so boring there." But as soon as she's made this pronouncement she's rethinking, leaning forward a little breathlessly: "Wait, so like, you were at Lassiter-at Lassiter? Did you meet him, is that sword for real? Did he really have a dragon? Did," from her tone this might even cooler than the dragon, actually, "Ryan Black seriously come explode all the guards?" She's much more blase about where she ended up, offering an offhand shrug and, "Varela. I never really went home after we got out and eventually someone on -- do you remember Kris with like, that weird slime thing? Anyway he was on the forum for like, a minute, and said there was a place out here with a whole town for us. -- it sounded super bogus but I figured I'd check it out. Did your..." she's starting to ask something, but then bites her lip and looks uncertain, switching instead to, "How long have you been here?" "We just -- we thought Gaé was in trouble but it turns out --" Sriyani shakes their head. "Predicting the future is an inaccurate science. -- Oh he definitely has a sword for real and the armor looks even cooler up close," they're telling Natsumi cheerfully. "I didn't meet Ryan Black --" Their world-weary sigh here suggests that this might, in fact, be the worst part of Torture Jail, "but he was for sure there and --" They're frowning over at Roscoe for confirmation. "I don't think he exploded any guards? He musta exploded something because they closed down a whole block. Where was Varela?" "The sword was dope," says Roscoe. "No dragon though. I maybe saw Ryan Black?" He waves one hand a little dismissively -- "A lot was happening at once it was..." he shakes his head. "Varela? Creepy," sounds almost appreciative -- he decides a moment later, "That makes sense. Did Kris go there too? I --" he shrugs. "Like, five minutes. I don't live here I'm -- back in Boston. Kinda." "Hmm -- kinda? There's plenty of space here if you need a place. I totally thought they'd be on some creeper thing but the guys who run this place are actually pretty cool. Boston's not far, right? Are there a lot of us there?" Natsumi is scrunching her brow as she tries to picture her mental map of This Part of the United States. "A lot of people online thought maybe he'd like, broke his back in a car accident or something boring and was saying it was Lassiter for the attention." She sounds slightly disappointed that this is not true, though the information on the coolness of Jackson Holland's Battle Gear mollifies this somewhat. "Kris was only there like, a second, then they decided he was too old and he got moved to Stevens. -- Varela's the total middle of nowhere they didn't even give us bus tickets when we got out. Super lame." "Too old? I didn't think you could age out of -- wait, was that..." Sriyani's eyes have widened and then narrowed in rapid succession, a sort of oh, cool! -- wait, what transition that does not resolve itself into an actual question. They fiddle with the tab edge of their tupperware lid, frowning. "Where's home, do you need to get home? I travel like, super fast. Pretty much anywhere." Roscoe shakes his head, almost grimaces -- "My folks are in Boston," he says. "You didn't..." he tilts his head at Natsumi, his eyebrows scrunching low over his eyes. "We didn't get bus tickets at Lassiter either the guards were too busy hightailing it outta there -- seriously, they just left you there? Man." He swings his feet more glumly now, slumping back against the wall and biting his lip. At Sriyani's question he twitches one shoulder up -- "Sriyani cool," he says reassuringly to Natsumi. "Varela was like, Juvie Prometheus," Natsumi confirms, "the other kids were alright. Guards were kinda creepers. Anyway home's in Hawai'i so I couldn't really have bussed there even if they cared. Can you get to Hawai'i? I'm so super jealous of teleporters." But immediately after this she's kind of downplaying the question: "I don't need to go there, though. I'm actually kinda okay here. I'm learning how to plant things and it's pretty fun. If I could teleport I'd probably just go upstate later this week and see the eclipse." She props her chin on her knuckles, one foot wiggling slowly back and forth against the rope rung. "If you went... are your parents like -- how did they deal with the whole creepy mutant jail thing?" "Woah, Hawai'i? Do you know..." Sriyani is beginning, but then maybe decides this is a silly question. Their mouth compresses at the mention of the guards, and they shift a little uncomfortably where they sit. "I can get to Hawai'i easy. I have a kinda friend from there and plane tickets are expensive. I could take you to the eclipse later, if you want." They're finally opening up their pasta and taking a very large bite. They kinda half-cover their mouth with a hand when they continue. "My parents were so pissed. They want to fight the whole government I think. I mean my mom kinda wanted to fight the whole government before but now it's personal. My dad's a super dork who loves America and the law so this is whole new territory for him. I think he's having an identity crisis about it." Roscoe slumps a little lower and swings his legs a little harder, wrinkling his nose. He waits politely but skeptically for Sriyani to finish their explanation, crunching studiously on a mouthful of dry noodle, then slides his gaze back at Natsumi. "Did you go in before or after the PBS doc?" he asks. "I mean, they feel bad but we didn't know what we were signing up for when we --" he breaks this off with a loose shrug, his face pinching in a tiny frown. "They don't -- treat me any different," he finishes. "Oh, before. They also didn't know -- um, I mean the doctors said it would help and then --" Natsumi just shrugs, too. She looks a little wistfully at Sriyani. "Your parents sound pretty cool. -- It'd be weird to go back after all that anyway. I don't want to be the weird freak mad science kid, you know?" Her smile is brighter, here. "At least here everyone's the freak. -- do you mean it about the eclipse?" Sriyani's brow scrunches skeptically; perhaps thinking of their parents as cool does not fit easily into their mind, but they aren't arguing. "Why wouldn't I mean it, I'll take people anywhere." Though after this they're reconsidering a little sheepishly: "Maybe not to another torture jail. But we can totally go stare at the sun." Roscoe bites his lip, looks from Natsumi to Sriyani back to Natsumi, his frown deepening paradoxically at her smile -- probably he wants to say something else but what he finally does say, his expression lightening a little, is "Hell yeah we can."