Logs:Of Summer and Stealth (Or, Do Something)

Of Summer and Stealth (Or, Do Something)
Dramatis Personae Kavalam, Kelawini	2020-08-29 "He can't mind-control us all at the same time, right?" (Part of Final Boss: Xavier TP.)
Location <NYC> Evolve Cafe - Lower East Side
Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. 'Locations:' Upstairs Nightclub (UPS) This time, Kelawini has managed to arrive first and does not just leave again. Instead, she just went to place her order and is now emerging to take advantage of the brief cool spell to spend some time outside with her honey lavender latte and banh mi. She's wearing a yellow boat-neck crop top with a subtle hand-woven net design, black capris, and black strappy cork wedges that accentuate her already impressive stature. Settling down at a table with a commanding view of the street, she starts wolfing down one half of her sandwich with a ravenous will that few but teenagers can manage. Kavalam doesn't keep her waiting too long, bright and noticeable in his cheerful yellow button down (paired with jeans and leather sandals) as he approaches down the block. The smile on his face when he sees Kelawini on the patio mingles relief and with a more regular cheer. He's just starting to pull his chair out when he glances to her food, checks himself -- "Hello! You do not mind waiting just one bit longer? I can get some lunch." Kelawini puts down her sandwich and waves as Kavalam approaches. "Hah! Saw you coming this time!" She sounds rather proud on this point, then tilts her head. "What, were you worried I wasn't gonna show?" Despite that there's no derision, in her tone or in her smile. "Sorry I started stuffing my face without you, just so hungry. But yeah, go grab yourself some food, I'll wait." This grows Kavalam's smile -- just a little wider. He only nods, though, disappearing into the cafe. When he returns, it's with a tall whipped-cream topped iced coffee drink and several spring rolls arrayed on a plate of his own. "Thank you. For coming. For waiting. I like that shirt." He plucks a spring of curly-shaved carrot from the decorative garnish on the plate, dipping it into the sauce. "Do you think we should choose a different cafe?" A little abrupt. "I have heard so many rumblings of how people are feeling about -- well." Here he pauses, brows knitting together. "Soon maybe school will begin, anyway. Then, it will not matter about meeting place." "Thanks!" Kelawini says brightly. She has, in fact, saved the rest of her meal. "You look nice, too. We were on the same wavelength about color today. Gray day, sunny clothes." She takes a sip of her candy-colored iced latte. "We can go somewhere else if you want, but--I mean..." She breathes out a long breath. "I'm not even sure we're going back to school. Oh!" Her dark eyes widen. "But you--kind of have to, if you want their help finding your family." She bites her lower lip gently, brows gathering slightly in thought. "Maybe you should come with me. There's a ton of other kids from the school at the center now, and maybe the adults there can help you, too." "Yes!" Kavalam's face lights, tipping back toward the grey sky. "Enough gloom already, no?" He munches down the carrot, then chases it with a lick of his whipped cream. "Just -- no school?" His eyes have gotten very wide behind his glasses. "What would you do, then?" And, a little uncertainly: "I have asked one person for help, but --" A small shrug. "Do you trust them? At this -- center?" "I guess just--no school." Kelawini echoes, sounding a lot less sure of the proposition now. "I just figured the would have gone to the administration by now, done--something. There's no way they're going to get all the kids out, especially not when fall term starts. If nothing's been done by then..." She deflates suddenly. "I guess I have to go back to Chicago and figure out how to do regular school again." She looks back up from her plate at Kavalam. "But I don't want that. These people--I don't know them that well, but they've been really generous and seem to genuinely care about our well-being. Don't want us hurt the way they were hurt. I think they'd help you, if this person you've asked...I mean, will they even remember what you asked them?" "No." Kavalam answers this simply, with a small shrug. "I have tried asking for help many times before. Many people before. But it --" His hands spread, then drop back to the table. "Is hard. Perhaps if you help -- remind them. Maybe they would remember. But I think, maybe, you all have your hands a bit full? Still --" Now he sounds a little wistful as he picks up one spring roll. "It would be nice to be back with people. Again." Kelawini had been digging in to her banh mi again, and swallows much too quickly to reply, "I can do that." Then, gulping some coffee to wash it down. "Well, I'd probably also forget, if I didn't set reminders, but I can do that now and they actually work. We'll find your family..." She taps her chin with the tip of one index finger. "...one way or another. And anyway, our hands aren't really full, we're just lounging around by the pool all day eating delivery. But if they don't get this sorted out by fall..." Her head shakes vehemently. "They have to know they're running out of time, I mean what was the point of getting us out of there if they aren't gonna do something? You should come with me. I'll help the other kids remember you, too." "Thank you. Lounging by a pool eating delivery sounds like a life I could get used to." Kavalam smiles, but it's short-lived. "It is -- worrying, though, yes? To have all this continuing? Who -- do you even tell about -- abuse that nobody can see or prove?" Kelawini takes a long draw of her coffee, sighing. "Yeah, it's worrying. I think other telepaths can prove it--have proven it. I'm not sure what can be done about it, but we can't just let it continue." She slaps the table--not excessively hard, but enough to make their respective plates rattle. "Maybe if we go and confront him with the administration ourselves, they'll force him out? He can't mind-control us all at the same time, right?" Kavalam's eyes drop to the table. He rests one hand at the edge of his plate, steadying his spoon against it as it jumps. "They say he's strong," he muses, "but I assume not all of us." Here he smiles -- just a little bit bigger. "Certainly not ones he can't see coming."