2011-11-17: Twit In The Music Room

Players: Heather, Quenton, and Xorn

Heather_icon.jpg Quenton_icon.jpgXorn_icon.jpg

Summary: Chitchat in the Music Room

Date: November 17, 2011

Log Title: Twit In The Music Room

Rating: PG

Xavier Mansion - Music Room

The music room has four levels of tiers that each sit one row in a semi circle. On the floor in the semi circle is grand piano. There is a large closet on either side of the room, one filled with string instruments and the other filled with various wind and brass instruments. There are a few guitars in the back of the room next to a large variety of percussion instruments. All the instruments here are for the students to use provided they take care of them and clean any necessary parts after they use it. The room is sound proof, so once the door is closed, the music being played will not interrupt the other classrooms.

Late evening in the Xavier Institute finds most of the students and staff out socializing or in their rooms studying. However, for one who does not sleep and does not socialize, Shen Xorn finds himself in the Music Room. Most of his life spent in solitary confinement in a Chinese prison, the professor has opted to learn as much as he can about music and see how he can incorporate it into his classes. And so, loud chanting can be heard playing on the room’s sound system, as Shen stands in the middle of the room, appearing in deep thought. The professor is dressed comfortably in Buddhist robes and red sash adorned with various X’s. and of course there is the metal mask he never is without.

Quenton wants to play the piano. So badly, but he knows he can't. Not with his strength issues. So as he saunters on in and moves to the piano, he pauses, opting not to, not only because of his lack of control, but because of the metal masked mutant monk in the room. No way he's going to attempt to do so and embarrass himself, even in front of someone who probably wouldn't care. "Professor," he greets. "You're looking… metal."

"What is that noise? That racket?" says Heather, as she enters the music room with an annoyed expression. She looks about and furrows her brow lightly and says, "I can barely see through this, this room is such a dreadful green." She rubs her forehead and shakes her head as if trying to clear things, all her motions looking quite twitchy and quick. She wears rather mismatched and kind of worn clothing

Lost in thought, the professor does not register the students’ entrance right away. Heavy Darth Vader like ‘breathing’ emits from the Asian X-Man and when the music finally ends. The Professor formally bows to the two students, “Quenton”. “Heather.” Eyeing both students, he addresses Heather’s questions first, “I was testing some chants for the meditation class. I apologize if the music was too loud. I thought the room was sound-proof so as not to interrupt students and their studies.” Then to Quenton, “I did not know you played the piano.”

"Stay out of my head," Quenton mutters, all hostility now as he glances towards the piano. "Anyway. I can't play it anymore, since I can't control my strength. Much like Speedy Gonzales here can't control her speed. Living in fastworld or whatever she calls it must be a nightmare." He glances towards Heather, brief sympathy flickering across his face that she might see due, though it fades just as quickly as it appears. "Not that I give a damn."

"What? No, it's just too much green inside of here. Outside is fine. I was going to adjust some of my sound mechanisms so that they match reality more, so that music isn't sounds between sounds that make no sense and fall flat," says Heather to Xorn, and she looks towards Quenton, "I don't know the reference you are making, I don't know a Speedy Gonzales, but I assume by the name, this person is fast. My codename is Timeslip."

“I also am not familiar with the reference to this Speedy Gonzales.” Xorn offers his sympathy to both students, “Control is something we all seek out or strive to have. Similarly I am forced to wear this mask for if I am without it for a lengthy period of time, I can lose control of the blackhole that has replaced by me head and brain.” There is an audible sigh when he turns to Heather, “I do not understand what you mean by too much green.”

"I didn't ask for your codename," Quenton replies to Heather. "I was insulting you. Badly, though, I'm getting a little rusty with the nicknames. I should practice more often." He glances towards Xorn. "You people need to watch more television." Green. Quenton hates green. It used to be his favorite color. "She sees color with sound or some crap. I dunno. I remember her saying my voice looked ugly."

"Yes, I perceive colours when sounds are made and it's- Your voice /is/ ugly," says Heather, furrowing her brows lightly. "Because of the way you speak it. Everyone's voices are shifted into ugly ugly green, because you all sound so slow. It's all slow motion and it's all just the same."

Shaking his head and audibly chuckling as the two interact, Xorn nods, “When one tries successfully or unsuccessfully to insult another person, their voice is ugly. And it does not matter whether the hearer perceives it as colors or not.” Changing the tone, “And how have you both enjoyed the semester thus far?”

"Your face is ugly," Quenton shoots back, though he's lying, of course. He thinks Heather is pretty, though he has eyes for someone else. "And oh, please, I don't need your zen crap right now." Truth be told, Quenton didn't mind Xorn's rambling, he even had a little affection for the metalhead, but the angry teen would never admit it. "No. The teachers here suck."

"Okay, that's your opinion on the status of my face. It is what it is," says Heather, unblinkingly through the tape recorder, she looks towards Xorn and says, "This semester has been fine, just a lot of history classes. I am sick of history history history."

Being a telepath and an empath, Xorn does not comment on the teachers suck comment since he knows Quenton does not mean it…at least about him anyway. “Well, if history class is the only problem, then I am glad that is the only issue. And Quenton, how’re your classes going? Are things going well on both of your squads?”

"My classes suck," Quenton replies. Mostly because every exam he takes has to be verbal, and the rage makes it difficult to respond well. The once regarded nerd was doing poorly. And this made him even angrier. "And I don't see my squadmates often."

"My squad is fine. I usually plan tactical sessions with my squadmates who would like to, since it can increase teamwork and flexible thinking," says Heather, head tilting lightly before she says to Xorn, "It's a lot of history to be taking."

After listening to Heather, “Well, that is a good idea. Allowing the students themselves to plan tactical sessions. Sam is a wise leader.” Turning to Quenton, “As is Kenta. And as for history. Some would say it is essential to learn our past so as not to relive our mistakes. Both personally and globally.” Xorn postulates.

"Oh, here we go again. Really, Xorn, we can down without your hokey religion right now," Quenton grumbles, while moving towards the piano. He stares at it briefly, and moves to press down on a key, but the whine the piano gives under the pressure of just a finger causes his hand to withdraw hastily.

Heavy ‘breathing’ shows Xorn’s annoyance at Quenton, but again he does not mention it. Instead, he simply bows to the two students, “Well, I must depart. It was good speaking with you both.” He begins to make his way to the door and turns, “Play nice, Quenton.” And with that, he heads out.

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