Logs:Stimchronization

Stimchronization
Dramatis Personae Dallen, Quentin, Tok	2024-05-22 "AJ was crying. About Bryce." (set after Dallen talks to AJ.
Location <XAV> Back Patio - Xs Grounds
This patio is expertly laid out for relaxing singly or in groups. The section nearest the back door is a more or less conventional veranda, the mansion's eaves--supported by elegant white wooden columns joined with matching railings--extending out to shelter the long porch swings, rocking chairs, and a chess table from the elements. Down the stairs or the ramp from this is a fan-shaped expanse of slate flagstones populated by clusters of deck chairs and picnic tables, always changing in number and arrangement, and stone planter boxes bursting with seasonal flowers and ornamentals. The centerpiece is an elegant pavilion with a hot tub open for use year-round, even if the transition in and out may prove chilly in snowy weather. "Look," Quentin is saying this with a kind of tried patience, "having, just, some kind of plan is better than having no plan at all." He's still sitting across the chessboard from Tok, and the fact that his side has the clear current advantage does not actually make him look pleased with the lay of the board. He's grimacing down at the pieces like they have personally affronted him, or maybe like he could do with an Advil right about now. "It's not about what pieces you capture right now, you have to be thinking through to what the end game looks like." Tok is staring harshly at the board, elbows propped on their knees and fingers resting on their temples, as if that’ll help them Think Harder. They’re attempting to put up their ‘Telepath Defense’ in their mind, which is probably even less effective than usual considering they keep getting distracted by everything else. “But if your guy is right there why wouldn’t I just take your guy! What if your guy is like, the underestimated side character that becomes the main villain of the movie by the end of it?!” They’ve created a very elaborate movie plot to their current chess game in their mind, vaguely remembered songs playing from a YouTube video labeled ‘3 HOURS EPIC Battle Music’ in the back of their mind to accompany it. “AHA! My little castle guys will make you RUE THE DAY YOU EVER daRED CHALLENGE M-“ They pause, staring at the board for a moment. Something maybe seems to click in their head, something of a plan beginning to form. They change from one of the rooks and move one of the other pieces instead, and maybe it’s not the worst possible move for once. Dallen is coming up from the lakeside, looking much more awful than even than his unfortunate choice in color -- or the fact that his brother is still missing -- can justify. His mind is a shifting nightmare, his garden overtaken with thorny vines that bloom garish poisonous flowers of recent memories he's struggling to sort through before they have a chance to bear fruit. His solace at the sight of Quentin is immediate, but just as quickly muddled by his confusion around AJ's words. When he sees the game on the table between Quentin and Tok he just stops, hovering in awkward uncertainty at the edge of the patio. There are words for this situation, polite words, he's certain he knows them, but they're not where they should be. After an agonizing moment he says, without lifting his eyes from the flagstones, "Sorry." Quentin's expression genuinely lights, when Tok begins thinking about their next move. His fist-pump is as excited as if he himself had just won some big match. "Hell yeah! And any piece might be dangerous later, but --" His head is cocking to one side, his triumphant expression shifting into worry, then, briefly, anger. He's looking casual again by the time Dallen comes into view. "Sorry? S'just a game," as if he had not only minutes ago been impressing upon Tok the deep importance of chess to all of life. "You look like crap, what happened?" is also casual, tonally, but there's a verrrry who do I need to beat up intensity to his eyes. It takes Tok a moment to register that someone is even there, wrapped up in the game. They glance up midway through Quentin talking, mind scrambling for context they’ve missed. They look to Dallen, eyebrows furrowing together in concern as their eyes dart around to take him in. They nod in greeting and wordlessly hook a nearby spare chair with their tail, dragging it over for Dallen to join if he wants to. Dallen's brows furrow, and he shakes his head. It's not actually a denial, he just doesn't know how to put "what happened" into words. His attention plays over the awful flowers in his mind, and they pulse sickly notes in rough temporal order of the memories they hold. Tok's wordless invitation pulls their attention from trying to improve his discordant recital, but he's sure Quentin heard it just fine the first time, anyway. "Prehensile," he says, watching their tail retreat, both frustrated and amused that's the first word he finds here. He flashes Tok a shy, uncertain smile and takes the seat offered. "AJ was crying. About Bryce." Quentin's head tilts as he listens to Dallen's mental replay of the events. There's a quiet rattling from the captured pieces that line the side of the board, shivering where they stand. "Are you kidding me with that shit?" he's saying, sharp, before Dallen has summoned up language. He's annotating for the psionically impaired: "Dallen went to ask AJ what happened to Bryce since she was there. She told him Bryce didn't survive but she didn't know shit, she was just repeating some gossip. Or," he adds with a shrug, "more likely straight up lying. She also told him that I said some people she was with that day died, which --" he's looking to Tok for confirmation with a lift of brows, "I definitely didn't say. Honestly, I think she's just making up whatever she thinks will get her attention. That girl is messed up." His head is shaking. The Smooth Rocks he and Tok had been playing with earlier lift themselves from the side of the chessboard to float to Dallen, now. "Hey. She doesn't know anything, okay? They're looking for Bryce and I'm sure Mr. Joshua wouldn't get your hopes up if he didn't have a good reason to think Bryce was still alive." Tok is sending a sharp tooth smile back to Dallen, tail waving back and forth happily at the mention of ‘Prehensile’, as if to emphasize the point. At Quentin’s growing anger, their tail stills. Their mind subtly, subconsciously catalogues it, where the line is what the signs are. They listen quietly and quickly nod along in agreement when Quentin looks at them for confirmation. <<Okay this is Dallen. Dallen mentioned earlier? Yes. Dallen missing a brother. This shirt feels weird. Brother is Bryce. FULL CIRCLE!>> Their leg bounces idly, “That’s kinda fucked up dude.” They say, concerned. A few ideas pop into their head, some involving pushing a little more, but that thought is shoved aside. “Maybe her acid makes her hear things. That must suck for her roommates.” Dallen flinches at Quentin's reply, until he reminds/convinces himself "are you kidding me with that shit" is probably rhetorical. He plays through his memories again, light glancing touches that map Quentin's commentary onto his own halting attempts to make sense of his interaction on the pier. His eyes widen at Smooth Rocks and as he cups his hands around them he leaves off struggling with the vines and thorns and flowers. He rubs his thumbs over the surface, slow and soothing. "I didn't see the girls who said Bryce was dead. She pointed but I didn't see." He frowns deeper, in a way that looks almost angry, but his voice doesn't sound angry, just thoughtful. "It doesn't matter if they were invisible or hallucinations or made up. She was with Bryce. Those girls were not. She should not repeat what they said as if it were true. It was very confusing." His thumb slips and the stones clack together in his hands. The feel of the clack moreso than the sound itself shivers satisfaction through him and he does it again deliberately. "I just wanted to comfort her because she was crying. But then she said Bryce was dead. I don't know how to do comfort when Bryce is dead." "I think having a roommate who bursts out into acid any time nobody's focused enough on her probably already sucks for her roommates." Quentin's irritation is returning, in small tenses and small narrowing of eyes, but it slips away again at the clack, clack of the rocks. His knee starts to bob, quick restless bounces. "What she said was messed up and cruel, man. I can't even imagine how selfish you gotta be when your brother's gone missing to think..." He's shaking his head again, but kind of rhythmic, now, along with the clacks. "I know you're trying to be all Christlike and everything but there's some times it's probably okay to tell someone to get a grip." His brows scrunch, shoulders tightening slightly as he listens to something beyond the others' perception, and after a moment gives up on this, just saying instead: "Look, next time you see one of the X- people around, maybe you can ask them for an update. They're annoying posers but I don't think they're gonna lie to you." Tok’s brain locks onto the soft clacking of the rocks. The sound repeats in their mind until it becomes distorted and weird and then it’s gone. They make a quiet animalistic clicking in the back of their throat to echo it and their mind quiets down. Tok watches the two of them, narrowing their eyes slightly at Quinten. They snort though, at the ‘annoying posers’ line. “Yeah I think you deserve to throw something..or someone! Or punch something. You wanna punch something? Ma would let me let me rip up some old props we didn’t need anymore when I got- like-“ they gesture fluttery fingers near their head. An old memory of them tearing apart a prop with their teeth surfaces. “Y’know? There’s so many decorative pillows out here you could unload into. They won’t miss it.” They tug out one they’re literally sitting on, dig their claws to pierce into the fabric. "I told her it was cruel and she should go see a counselor," Dallen says, uncertain, "that's kind of like telling someone to get a grip, right? I don't..." He's rooting around for words again, and it's still tedious even if some of the poisonous vines have withered as Dallen contextualizes the memories and stows them away as seeds. "I don't think the...X-people lied to me, anymore, but I will ask." The garish toxic glow has faded from his garden, which is growing brighter again with adoration for Quentin and curiosity about Tok. The rhythm of their stims pulse like fireflies amidst the untidy growth. He rocks gently, rolling around the idea of tearing up the cushion he's sitting on, and giggles in scandalized delight when Tok demonstrates. "I don't have the claws for tearing up pillows. Maybe I can try punching one. But." He times the clacking of the stones in his hands to a quiet skillful syncopation with Quentin's bobbing and Tok's clicking, and when it lines up just right his rocking turns into a kind of nodding, his smile small but not shy. "I like this."