2012-09-20: Life Sucks, Gripe About It.


Shane_icon.jpg Cale_icon.jpg SophieD_icon.jpg

Summary: Sophie, Shane, and Cale discuss how much the current situation just plain sucks.

Log Title: Life Sucks, Gripe About It.

Rating: R

Xavier Mansion - Recreation Room

//What was once the Parlor has been turned into a Recreation Room for the students. A nice plush carpet meets the light blue walls giving it a homey feel. A pool table at one end, a foos ball table at the other, and entertainment center with video game systems, movies, and of course, cable TV. Big comfy chairs and couches surround a coffee table for comfortable loafing. Long glass windows with a pair of French doors line one side of the room bringing in plenty of light during the day. The main rule in here is to clean up after yourself. //

What was once the Parlor has been turned into a Recreation Room for the students. A nice plush carpet meets the light blue walls giving it a homey feel. A pool table at one end, a foos ball table at the other, and entertainment center with video game systems, movies, and of course, cable TV. Big comfy chairs and couches surround a coffee table for comfortable loafing. Long glass windows with a pair of French doors line one side of the room bringing in plenty of light during the day. The main rule in here is to clean up after yourself.

It's late evening, and at Xaviers, all seems to be quiet. The Rec Room is empty… well, nearly empty. Soft, classical music is playing, by means of an iPod hooked up to the stereo — the Peer Gynt Suite, for those that might recognize it. Curled up in one of the easy chairs is Sophie, sitting with her legs tucked up on the seat and her collapsed cane draped across her lap as she reads a book. Her fingers move studiously across the page, but just for once, she might not actually be studying; the title of the book, written in normal letters and braille both down the spine is 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.

*STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP* Laptop in one hand, controller in the other, Shane storms into the rec room… to find it occupied, with classical music playing. For the barest instant, a look of utter fury crawls over her face, replaced with apathy as she concedes ownership of the music in the room. Clomping over to an easy chair by the TV, she hurls herself in, stabbing at laptop keys.

Sophie just about fumbles her book at the rage conveyed by the heavy clomping of feet, and certainly loses her spot as the pages flutter. "Torpe y torpe…" she mumbles, as she thumbs through the pages looking for her spot. She takes a good couple of minutes to accomplish this, and sighs softly, pressing on the last couple of lines to the end of the page. "Who is there?" she asks, raising her voice properly to be heard. "If you wish the use of the television, you may turn off my music. I do not mind."

"S'fine," pipes up an incredibly sullen and bitter Shane, "ain't like I don't got earphones." With further muttering and grumbling, she pokes at her touchpad, sounding like she'd almost be willing to put her finger through the computer rather than have to deal with it for five more seconds.

Sophie pauses, facing in Shane's general direction, before shrugging lightly and gazing back down at her book. "As you wish," she murmurs. She thumbs to the next page, and her finger resumes scanning down over the page, one line at a time. 'Troll — in the Dungeons — thought you ought to know.' Ahh, Professor Quirrel. Sophie turns the page, and her fingers linger at the top. She looks at war with herself, before she looks up again, "Heard anything about Nick, or Locke?"

"*NO* I ain't heard anything!" Shane fairly explodes, slapping the cover of her laptop down. "'Cept I *guess* wherever they are, Q's there now too, an' looks like I'm fuckin' Public Mutant Enemy Number God Damn One! Okay?!"

This time, Sophie does drop her book; it lands on the floor with the spine up and the pages all askew, as the blind girl shrinks back in her seat, as if expecting Shane to go off physically as well as verbally; even to the point of raising her arm to shield her face. "…Th-they got Quenton, too?" Sophie asks, very quietly. "A-and they put you on their terrorist list, too?" She pauses, brushing her fingers on her right hand through her hair; her left hand still displays stitches, and she still favors it. "I'm sorry, Shane," she adds.

It's the apology that gets her, a fact that can even be heard, by the way her voice cuts off before another syllable can be completed. "…Sorry," she mumbles, closing her eyes and sagging back in her chair. "Just losin' my shit, is all. Didn't mean t'snap."

Sophie slips off her chair, and kneels down, tucking her skirt under her knees before she starts to pat about for her book. (She's facing in completely the wrong direction.) "It is alright," she murmurs, blushing softly. "You have had an ill time of it, and someone special to you is having a worse time. It would be a surprise if you were not upset." She pauses, and sighs heavily. Then, very quietly, "…Do you… see my book?"

Shane opens her eyes, glancing in Sophie's direction and closes them again. "…'S behind you. Kinda t'y'r left." She draws in a deep breath. "And i ain't got cut, like you did, so no, I ain't havin' a bad time, considerin'. Just… I was so *proud,* y'know? I finally *did* somethin' when it counted, an' it felt *good.* …'Cept now I'm gettin' fucked f'r that too. Sayin' I killed someone, blowin' up. …..And Iunno if that's even a lie."

The blind girl pauses, and turns around to pat the space that had been behind her, a bit to her left. Her fingers touch the book, and she plucks it up, before retreating back into her chair. She shakes her head slowly. "I don't think it would have made a difference, they would have blamed you just for you being there," she murmurs. She pauses, opening her book once more, and going through the laborious process of finding her spot for a second time. "…And at least… at least you did something," she mutters, almost as if embarassed to say it.

"First time, too," Shane murmurs. "I mean, I defended myself before, but that's diff'rent. Then, it was just like… kickin' someone who's gotta hold of you, y'know? 'F it does anything, 's more you're lucky than cos you're strong. But when it mattered…" Shane's voice cuts off, and for a long moment, she's very, very silent. "…I keep thinkin', yeah? …What if Q's dad's dead 'cos I froze up? What if I coulda saved 'im…?"

Sophie shakes her head slowly. She finds her spot in her book, marks it, and snaps it shut as she leans well back in the seat. "You did something," she repeats. "You fought back when it mattered. It didn't work, and now you're upset, but… but at least you did something." She brushes her thumb over her stitches, and draws her legs up into the chair once more, tilting her head to face away. "And that's more than I can say."

"I ain't pissed cos it didn't work," Shane snaps, though *much* less loudly than before. "I'm pissed cos it made shit *worse.* An' that's pretty fuckin' bad, considerin' the alternative was like three people holdin' me down an' another one havin' a knife t'my throat."

"Trust me, Shane, you made nothing worse. Had you done nothing you would have died, and Quenton would still have been taken, by the sound of things. So you acted, and Quenton was taken. But at least you are still here with us." She pauses, and shakes her head. She shifts her arms to hug her book against her stomach, and bows her head. "I am sure that is small comfort. But… I would imagine that wherever Quenton is, it is comfort to him, knowing that you are safe."

"D'ya think he *does?* Iunno. He fell out the air an' hit his head on a planter before I got nailed." Shane draws her knees up, shaking slightly. "…An' I know I'm completely fuckin' intolerable, 'n sorry. Just.. yeah."

Sophie shakes her head slowly. "It is alright," she murmurs. "it is a trying time for all of us. …I came to America to escape this sort of persecution in Spain, and now I must endure it here, also." She shrugs her shoulders lightly. "During the attack in Salem Center, I did… nothing. Precisely nothing, but panic and… cry." She turns her whole body sideways in the chair, and faces towards the wall, away from Shane. "And on the news they called me a dangerous mutant terrorist anyway."

"S'what I always do," Shane says, voice sullen. "Never had a problem callin' m'self a coward, y'know? Cos it's *smart,* not doin' anything might just piss people off enough t'take you apart. Half the time, don't see no difference 'tween bein' brave an' bein' a dumbass."

"Eh, don't beat yourself up, Sophie," Kaylee shakes her head, having materialized (or it seems like it, anyway) near the doorway to the rec room; she wears a pair of fairly snug fitting jeans and a hoody, with her hair tied into a ponytail with a purple scrunchie. "If there's one thing I've learned since coming here, it's that you can't really pay attention to the things people say… especially the news…"

Sophie sighs heavily at Kaylee's words, and shakes her head slowly. "There's a difference between being badmouthed in the news, and being labelled a dangerous… well, animal, basically," Sophie replies. "There is a telephone number for people to call if they see Shane or I, so that… I do not know how they would handle it. At the least they would send the police for us. They might even bring the army to shoot us." She sets her book down on the coffee table beside her chair, and bows her head, curling in on herself. "And I would be very careful, Kaylee… or… you will be in the same boat."

"Teach *me* t'fuckin' fight back," Shane gripes, resting her chin on her knees.

Kaylee rubs her chin idly for a moment, padding into the room barefooted and flopping over the back of the couch for a moment. "So, it's war they want then?" she mulls over what Sophie's saying for a moment. "I don't know…" she murmurs, shaking her head. "I don't like all these people messing with my friends. First they try to take my sister from me, and then, this? I think…" she sighs heavily…

"They didn't get your sister," Sophie murmurs. "You and some friends dealt with that, I heard. And Shane… you did nothing wrong, okay? Please. You have every right to defend yourself, and the people you care about. Nothing got worse because of your actions, I… I do not know how else to say it." She remains sitted the way she is, with the side of her face pressed against the back of the chair, facing mostly away from the other two in the room. "This will pass," she mumbles. "Eventually. Perhaps not for many years. But someday, it will pass."

"….Let's don't get started there," Shane murmurs, lifting her chin to press her forehead against her knees. "…I ain't got nothin' t'say 'bout that won't just make everyone more depressed. …Anyway, Kaylee. Dunno 'f you watch th'news, but… They got Q. Th' Purifiers. And Nick. Someone else… that Jedi-lookin' dude, what's'isname."

Kaylee's eyes go wide, "They did /WHAT?/" she squeaks, gripping the side of the couch fiercely, "I… I… I'm going to kill them. All of them. If they hurt them at all! Why aren't we doing something about it? Why didn't someone come GET me? Everyone just… let me hide out in my room? I'm…" her skin pulses angrily, turning a bright red.

"Don't talk like that," Sophie pleads, tilting her head to face in Kaylee's direction. "Poisoning your soul with rage and sin does nothing to aid your friends and only aids your enemies." She turns around to face the other two girls more properly once more. "Nobody came and got you because you're a young lady who isn't prepared to fight men with guns who want to kill you. Which is the same reason I'm not going anywhere, because I'm the same thing and also blind, so I may as well be perfectly useless in a fight. The X-Men are working on it, and they are prepared for this sort of thing." The blind girl pats her lap suddenly, and then all around the chair to either side of her, before finding her cane where it slid down beside the cushion. She holds it like a protective totem in both hands, and breaths a sigh of relief. "The rest of us are just students who would be best served by staying out of the way of the people who know what they're doing. That is why we are not doing something."

"'Sides, anyone that puts up a fight gets turned into th'problem," Shane mutters sourly. "Oughta watch th' news once inna while, Kaylee. Sophie's a mutant terrorist, 'cos she was there when Nick an' what's'is'name got nabbed, an they sayin' I'm a *killer* terrorist, 'cos I fought back when Q got took. That mess at th' mall? That's *all* my fault," she snarls, lip curling. "Can't even fuckin' walk out th'house anymore. Maybe never. 'M a *terrorist* now, who knows."

"I don't…" Kaylee seems to deflate, slithering over the back of the couch to curl up on one end of it next to Sophie, "I guess I didn't… I'm just upset," she exhales a long, deep breath… "How did they… I don't know, how did they manage to take Quenton? That's kind of ridiculous. I mean, he's freaking terrifying, a lot of the time. I mean he's nice, but also terrifying."

Sophie shrugs her shoulders lightly. "Same way they got Nick and Warlock," she replies, tilting her head to follow Kaylee to where she sits close to her chair. "They have darts that inject you with something that shuts off your powers. Then they… Well, I do not know, with Nick and Locke they teleported them out, and nobody knows where to."

"An' they gotta knockout dart thing," Shane mumbles. "Stuck me with't, woke up inna Medical. Dunno why they didn't just cack me, 'r let someone else give me a stompin'. Mebbe onea th'teachers got there in time, Iunno."

Cale frowns, "Teleportation? Power dampeners? They have that kind of technology? That's big league stuff… these aren't just some random rednecks then…" she curls her knees up to her chest, hugging them. "I dunno… maybe it IS better just to hide in here…" she chews on her lip nervously.

Sophie shrugs her shoulders lightly. "I…" The blind girl sighs heavily, and turns to face away again once more. "I am sorry, I… I do not wish to talk about it anymore." She blushes rather fiercely, as she reaches to the coffee table once more for her book. The volume of Harry Potter is flipped open to her marked page, and she moves her fingers across the braille, once more trying to focus on the story in her hands, while making sure not to bump the spine against her stitches.

"…Fine by me," Shane mutters, pushing open her laptop, and returning to stabbing at the keys. After a moment, her earphones are slipped back over her ears, and her eyes close. Given the volume at which she tends to prefer her own music, probably it's for the best nobody at all else can hear it.

Kaylee just sits there, eyes going back and forth between Sophie and Shane, before finally dropping the subject and just staring ahead at the TV, which is… well, it's currently off. But that's fixed with a quick flick of the tongue, which she has been slightly less shy about using lately; much to the lament of her schoolmates sometimes…

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