Logs:Of Art and Antagonizers (Or, An Unfortunate Misunderstanding)

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Of Art and Antagonizers (Or, An Unfortunate Misunderstanding)
Dramatis Personae

Gaétan, Harm, Kavalam, Mina

2019-04-11


"-- it's so disappointing I really liked his cupcakes."

Location

XS - Art Room


Smells of paints and chalks and turpentine mingle freely in this room, well-used, well-stocked. Natural light flows in, plentiful through the large windows. The long counter-like tables are speckled with spots of color, and half finished projects often stand on easels or propped in corners. The many cupboards lining the walls are crammed full of art supplies.

It's disarray today in the usually tidy art room. Many of the cupboards have been thrown open, their contents turned out into tables, the floor, evidently whatever surface was convenient and available. Somewhere in the middle of the jumble Mina, in vivid yellow floral sundress, pink tights dotted with bumblebees, a knitted rainbow ombre shawl draped over her shoulders, has climbed onto a counter to continue digging, this time through sculpting tools. She's turning over wrapped blocks of clay in her hand, lips twisting to one side and a frown on her face.

It's hard to say how long Kavalam has been here watching this. Or not watching it! When he does make himself visible it's at a high table very near to where Mina is sitting. The colored pencil drawing in front of him (of a bed of fiery yellow and red fringed tulips) is fairly far along; perhaps he started it elsewhere or perhaps has not been all that distracted by her commotion.

Now, though, he is tapping the tip of a red pencil against the side of his glasses and staring over at Mina with a determined focus. "Are you looking for something in /particular/?"

The door opens and Harmony slips inside, looking tired and hunted. They're wearing a cream-colored t-shirt with a stylized multicolored dragon winding in and out of clouds, issuing a rainstorm from its gaping maw, wide-legged blue jeans, and vintage red low-top canvas sneakers. They carry a bicycle inner tube satchel over one shoulder two large spiral notebooks against their chest, their shoulders hunched inward. Seeing Mina on the desk, they stop in their tracks only halfway into the room, blinking in confusion as they take in the disarray around the girl. Only a beat later do they catch sight of Kavalam sketching quietly, and though this doesn't seem to /decrease/ their confusion they do finally continue into the room. "Hiii...?"

"Woooooah!" Mina drops one of the chunks of clay, sliding nearly down off the countertop and windmilling an arm -- catching herself against the cabinet at the last minute and grabbing on tight to stop from falling off entirely. "Woah! Sorry I didn't -- you startled -- how long have you -- um." She's breathing a little faster, looking wide-eyed at Kavalam. "Sorry. Are you supposed to be here? Is he supposed to be here?" She's asking Harmony this when they arrive, her tone a little breathless and her /everything/ kind of flustered as she hops down from the counter.

"I am supposed to be here," Kavalam replies calm and precise, looking back down to his drawing. Adding some darker shading on one of the petals. "You have been at -- mmm." He waves the pencil around the growing mess. "/This/. For a while. Are you /looking/ for something. In /particular/." His eyes cut briefly to Harmony. Narrow. He draws in a slow breath.

"I -- um -- yes?" Harmony doesn't sound quite as certain as Kavalam. "I'm not here for a /class/ or anything, but we're allowed to work on personal projects here, too." Their eyebrows lift up slightly. "...Aren't we?" They shuffle aside and find a table that /isn't/ yet covered with scattered supplies, setting down their bag and notebook. "Do you need help finding something? Or putting away...things?"

"Maybe she's looking to give Mr. Holland a heart attack." Gaétan hasn't quite entered the room, just peering in around the doorway. Leaning up against the doorframe. Looking over the mess with an impressed lift of eyebrows. "Kavalam isn't /supposed/ to be anywhere. He just goes where he wants."

Mina doesn't /entirely/ relax when the others seem to know Kavalam, but her breathing does come easier. "What? Oh no! I wouldn't jeopardize the cookies! Will he be mad?" She suddenly looks down at the chaos she's made with a crease of brows, lip catching between her teeth. "No, I don't /know/ what I'm looking for that's the /problem/. I have a project for history and I don't even know what to /do/ and I don't want to do a stupid /boring/ diorama and these boys said the art room has /lots/ of supplies if I needed to come get stimulated and I don't feel inspired at all just really overwhelmed I haven't had a single good idea yet." With a sigh she starts shoving the clay back into the cabinet -- not nearly so neatly as it had been there before, alas. "Harm you look kind of beat are you okay?"

"That is what everyone says about me." Kavalam says this quite neutrally, looking down at his work. Carefully deepening the color on some of the feathery petals. "A rebel and an anarchist, is the reputation that I have." He looks up again, with a small lift of eyebrows. Lifts a finger. Starts to point. Then shakes his head and continues drawing. "I think that some 'these boys' were having you on, a bit. But there is still a lot here to make a /good/ diorama. An exciting diorama. Put all the stupid ones to shame."

Gaétan scrunches one eye up, looking quickly over to Kavalam and then away. "You forgot troublemaker." He heads into the room properly, starting to collect some of the scattered supplies to start returning them to the closets in a kind of haphazard way. "Yeeeah they were definitely just messing with you. We had detention," he adds, with a wave of a... paintbrush... towards Harm to indicate them as well.

"I think /despair/ would be more likely than /mad/, but either way we can save the cookies if we tidy up." Harm starts gathering some of the supplies from earlier in Mina's trail of chaos, putting them back in careful, methodical fashion -- somewhat slower than the others as a result. "Maybe if you looked over the class materials you're supposed to make a diorama of, /along/ with the materials, it might give you some inspiration? Or look up some photos related to the even to get an idea what you want to...doram?" They pause in the middle of returning a tub of rubber cement to its place on the shelf. Lips press together tight. "Yeah, there's a lot of /these boys/ around who like messing with people." The words are more bitter than their tone, and they give a small nod of agreement at Gaétan's summary. "I've never had detention before. I don't recommend it."

"What? Getting me to try and give Mr. Holland a heart attack is a really roundabout kind of prank." Mina shakes her head, pushing aside some of the things she's set out so that she has counter space to hoist herself up and sit. "Detention? And /he's/ the troublemaker?" Her grin doesn't seem particularly bothered by the thought of this PAIR OF RUFFIANS here in the art room with her, though. "What did you all /do/?" The smile fades at Harm's tone, though, brow creasing with more worry than before. "... what did they make you do?"

"I do not think those were the art supplies they meant." Kavalam sets his pencils down. He rests an elbow on the table, cupping his chin in a hand and studying Harm and Gaétan. "They really made you all have detention together? What did they think would come of that?"

"Mr. Holland keeps condoms and stuff in here." Gaétan elbows one of the lower sets of drawers in passing, but doesn't open them. "Nine times out of ten if some douche-bro is talking at you about 'art supplies' or 'doing some art' he doesn't /actually/ want to paint he's just. Like we said, messing with you. Seems to be a whole trend of that lately." He just shrugs at Kavalam. "I think Mr. da Costa thought talking about our feelings would. Y'know. Lead to some kind of Breakfast Club thing."

"There's sex supplies down in Dr. McCoy's office, too, but the ones here you can just take, and not have deal with any teachers." Harm sounds very matter-of-fact about this. "/We/ didn't do anything. I guess technically /I/ instigated a fight, by being an easy target? Some boys were picking on me yesterday and this girl...tried to help." Their voice is a little tight here. The pace of their tidying picks up a bit. "Anyway she whipped out powers, and then they did, too. Me and Gae tried to leave, but Mr. da Costa came and made us 'explain ourselves.' Like I wasn't going to be in deep enough with those jerks /without/ telling on them." They set a box of powdered dyes very forcefully down in their place. "Anyway, so we all had to do conflict mediation, which was weirdly like home except..." Their shrug is small and noncommittal. "Whatever. They /apologized/ that their inappropriate joking hurt people's feelings and they'll never do it again, so. We're all good, right?"

"What?" Mina hops down off the counter immediately, darting over to the drawers that Gaétan has indicated. She pulls one open, closes it again with a blush. "What! /Why/ are there condoms in the /art room/?" Her hand claps over her mouth a moment later, and she leans back against the drawers. "This is like a gay thing isn't it I'm being so insensitive." Her arms fold over her chest, and she wiggles her toes against the floor. "So /you/ got detention because people were teasing you? That sounds kind of nonsense."

"/You/ instigated, pah. That is the stupidest thing I have heard all day." Kavalam blinks, his brows lifting. "Second stupidest, next to --" His hand flaps in the direction of Mina and the drawers. "Mr. Holland keeps them there. For us."

"For us?" Gaétan coughs, knuckles pressing to his eye. "/Dude/, I don't think you just made it sound /better/."

"I mean, no one /said/ I instigated, but consider I did nothing except get yelled at and pushed around..." Harm shrugs again. "And Gae didn't even do /that/." They actually stop and turn around when Mina asks, then answers, her question, their expression sheer perplexity. "I think they're just here because Mr. Holland stocks all the art supplies, too, so maybe it's just like...convenient. Why would it be a gay thing?" Then, for just a moment, their expression freezes. It passes almost too quickly for anyone to notice, though they're just a touch paler as they turn back to busy themselves with the already much-reduced mess. "I'm pretty they're for us to use. With other kids."

"/For us/?" Now both Mina's hands have clapped to the side of her face, her fingertips pressing into her cheeks. Her voice has dropped, a semi-hushed stage-whisper tumble of words that spill-rush straight over Harm's -- "Ohmy/god/ I mean you know, I'd heard rumors, but I just thought, people make stuff up all the time I didn't think I should /listen/ but do you think that's why he's not even allowed to live in the dorms? I don't know why they'd even let him still teach here though if -- though some of the things I've heard about /some/ of the teachers, do you think it's even /safe/ to be here? Why do you think they'd give him the /sex ed/ class of all things is that like a sick joke? I wanted to take painting but I guess I'm doing dance instead. Does everyone just /know/?" Her hands have finally dropped again -- mostly because she's pushing herself straight, heading for the door, expression caught somewhere between /excitement/ and horror. "-- it's so disappointing I really liked his cupcakes."

Kavalam's hand comes up to cover his mouth as Mina talks. His palm presses to his lips -- it's hard to say /quite/ what expression it's stifling, though his eyes have gotten wider behind his half-frame glasses. As Mina heads for the door, he looks to Harmony and Gaétan, his other hand turning up in a shrug. "I want to find fault with her takeaway there but. They are some very good cupcakes though."

Gaétan glances after Mina with a brief tightening of his jaw. He exhales slowly, shaking his head and continuing to set the art room back to rights. "Oh my /gods/. She needs that class sooner rather than later. See one condom and we're into full blown conspiracy theory land now." He pushes a few racks of paintbrushes back into neater rows and closes a cabinet door. "Not that some of our teachers aren't creepy as /hell/. But there's a thousand more terrifying things at this school to worry about than the freaking art teacher."