nextgenerationmarvel | Times They Are A-Changin'... ((Open to Reactions & Things on the X-Campus))

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Times They Are A-Changin'... ((Open to Reactions & Things on the X-Campus))

With the opening of the school post-Labor Day fast approaching, it was time to open the dorms to the student populations. This was being done so most of the interior of the mansion (above the subbasements) could be remodeled and re-utilized for more academic means.

It was bright and early on that late August morning the headmaster of Xavier's had the students and staff gather for announcements. Things had to change at how parts of Xavier's were ran. Gone were the days of it being a home first and school second.

Rachel went to the front of the gathered crowd and used her telepathy to augment her voice so everyone could hear her.

"Good morning, everyone. Today, we officially open the two dorms to student living." She used one hand to gesture to the two large buildings behind the mansion and opposite each other across the width. "The students will spend the day moving out today from the mansion into the boys' and girls' dorms. Some of the roommate assignments have been updated and adjusted as needed. The assignments have been posted in both your current dorms and your new one. If you don't have a roommate at this moment, do not think you've lucked out. We have students returning and new ones enrolling after Labor Day."

She took a breath. "With this move to the dorms, comes a change in how this school proceeds. Under my predecessor, the school had more leeway and could be like a home before an educational institution. Now, with the watchful eyes hoping we fail, we have to move how we do things into a more proper school setting. With that in mind, more rules have been instituted to get us in line with those terms of existence."

She took a small breath. "The cafeteria kitchen is now off-limits to students. Only those with prior permission and reason to be there will be allowed in. It is up to Ms. Blaire's and my discretion on whom that is. Food in the cafeteria will be supplied on a 24 hour basis, but do not expect hot food once the kitchen has been closed down for the night. The cafeteria will start serving hot food at 6 AM and will close down the hot food portion at 8 PM.

"The horses in the stables are not to be fed junk food under any circumstances. Ms. Moonstar informs me the next person who slips them one of those deep fried fruit pies will be cleaning out the stalls with a bucket, a sponge, and no powers. And I agree with her.

"The Shi'ar mainframe in this school needs to have its resources used responsibly. Mr. Ramsey will disable your access to the internet if he catches anyone trying to host things like Warcraft sessions on it."

Girls Roommate Assignments
Bobbi Angelus and Rose Logan
Kayla Conners and Bianna LeBeau
Josephine Blaire-Bennet & TBD

Boys Roommate Assignments
Dolemeck Night and Brody Lees
Topher Summers and Richard Brooks
Ilya Gavrilov and Pete Eastman (& co.)
David Roberts & TBD

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The man-sized turtle tilted his head and blinked. He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Aye, they are most striking are they not?"

Even with his slightly beaky mouth, D'Artagnan managed a smile. "I envy thine hair," he commented before rubbing a hand over his own bald pate. "Mine scalp is as bare as a church on Tuesday."

"I kind of like that you're bald. I never saw a lot of that back home in Russia. And if someone was losing their hair they had thick hats on anyway. It's nice to be somewhere warm enough that that's not always necessary, even if I miss home sometimes." Ilya paused, and then asked almost timidly, not sure if he was supposed to know this already, "Where are you from?"

"Mine eyes hath never laid upon a hairy turtle. Ah, tis a dream, methinks," he mused wistfully. He rested one of his forearms on the tsuka of the topmost katana stuffed through the sash around his waist.

"I am a knight pledged to the Realm of Xavier at recent. I was from the City of Kansas in the shire of Missouri."

"...Missouri's in the South, right?" Ilya can tell he's talking to someone who may or may not be a little 'off', but he has to live with him so he's just going to roll with it. It's not like he has anywhere else to go, for one thing, and for another, he's fairly sure the Institute wouldn't let in anyone actively dangerous.

"Aye," he answered swiftly. "It is now the Land Which Must Not Be Named."

D'Artagnan had noticed an uptick in the time he was allowed to have control. Not that he noticed any worry that he was slightly mentally unsound. He also had peace knots tied to the tsuba of both of his katana. He knew dorms were not a place for drawing steel.

"Oh." Well, that's... no, he has no idea what that is. What is he supposed to say to that? It's hard to figure his roommate out, which doesn't bode well. Still, he takes a deep breath and tries to push forward.

"I should probably warn you I have nightmares almost every night," he says softly, looking at the floor again. "I'll try not to wake you up. But it might happen. Sorry."

He nodded at the confusion. He could elucidate, but it was not his tale to tell. He scratched at his cheek idly with his two-fingered hand at the confession.

"Fear not, kind sirrah. We turtles do not tend to sleep. Perchance is there anything we can do to help in such a state of night terror?"

"Usually being woken up is enough to calm me down, because it makes me realize it was just a dream. I've been trying to talk to the Headmistress about getting more blankets so I don't get cold, since being cold seems to set the nightmares off, but... no luck so far. I'm sorry. It's getting less frequent, though. Really," Ilya added, as if he were about to be rejected as a roommate entirely. Even someone who didn't need sleep wouldn't want to have to put up with the annoyance of Ilya's freakouts. He bites his lip nervously.

He stopped scratching his cheek. He motioned for Ilya to get up and follow him. Wherever the young Russian was looking.

"Come. Thou art with choices. A blanket, at the very least, we shall get."

Almost as if by fate, Dolemeck wheeled up to Ilya and Pete's new room, gently knocking on the door. He was already exhausted beyond belief, but he felt accomplished as he got most of his things put away in his room, and all by himself.

"Ilya? Pete... or... whichever turtle is present? May I come in, I have a small favor to ask!"

Ilya brightens up considerably at Dolemeck's voice, smiling a little.

"We're here," he confirms, moving to open the door. "What is it?"

"Well... I ran into a bit of an issue." he was breathing a bit hard, sweaty, and his clothing looked like it had seen better days. It was wrinkled and clearly looked like he dressed himself without his powers for the first time in years.

"I got nearly everything of mine moved into me new dorm... but the sewing machine. There is no possible way I can move it without me powers. Could either one of you help me out with that... while I go pass out somewhere?"

"I'll do it," Ilya volunteered immediately. "It's no big deal. You should rest anyway. You look a little strained. Just show me where your new room is and I'll take care of it," he says, taking in Dolemeck's appearance with a mixture of worry and something he can't quite place.

"I am not that far away." He pointed out his room was only a door away from Ilya's.

"And I am alright... I managed to get everything else into my room on me own! And in less than five trips, too!" He smiled proudly at that. "I even put everything in my drawers all nice and neat, too."

"Good for you. I'm kind of curious on how you got the sewing machine inside in the first place, though. Aren't they heavy, even with your powers?" His knowledge of sewing machines is pretty minimal, come to think of it.

"Aye, they are rather heavy, even with my powers." He hated to admit that. "I had to ask for help once it was delivered to the mansion, in order to get it set up in my room. Which is why I was hoping one or both of you could help me bring the machine to the boy's dormitory for me?"

He looked past Ilya to wave over to D'Artagnan, giving him a wave as not to be too rude.

"Hello, D'Artagnan. It's been awhile." He smiled over at the other turtle, before looking back at Ilya. "Also, I did not mean to be rude, but were you two on a quest for another blanket. I sort of... over-heard you before I had the courage to knock on the door. I well... did not wish to disturb or interrupt, you see..."

"I'm not particularly muscular and it's still light enough my powers aren't a great idea for moving it. So I guess we'll have to both pitch in, if that's okay with you," he added to his turtle roommate, looking a little sheepish. Ilya never did know how to ask for help - it was new territory for him, and he always felt a little demanding when he asked someone for something. But if it was for someone else, like Dolemeck, then that wasn't selfish, was it? He hopes not.

Then he blushes and ducks his head. "Um, yeah. I, uh, I guess I just get cold even though I shouldn't. It's kind of stupid, I know."

D'Artagnan went from tilting his head and narrowing his eyes to crossing his arms in front of his chest. He looked from one to the other when they remembered he was in the room.

Though one scaly brow ridge did raise. He spoke without any guile. "Ye cannot carry a stone and a half to two stone?"

He eyed their arms. Master at Arms Logan needed would need to work on these two. "If ye need help, I will assist. Lead on."

Ilya turned red, reminded thoroughly of how weak he was. "No, I can't. My healing factor ate away at my muscles when I didn't have food, so, um. I guess I never... never really got back into shape."

Oh God, kill him now. At least Dolemeck has an actual, reasonable excuse. Looking like he's just been reminded he's not really one of these people yet, he turns to let Dolemeck lead.

"I err... am on power restriction until further notice. So... no. I cannot lift the machine and bring it into me new room on me own."

Dolemeck turns his chair about and wheels himself towards the his old room in the mansion. The sewing machine was... larger than expected. It actually folded up into a table, and appeared to be rather fancy. He himself was red faced as he turned to the two.

"Here it is..." He looked even more nervous as he looked at the two. "I already managed to store it back inside of the table, so it should be a tad bit easier to transport, now. And while you two do that, I will go on a quest for extra blankets for Ilya... so I am not dead weight or something of the sort."

The turtle looked over the sewing machine table. It looked more bulky than heavy. "If thou canst get the doors," he addressed Ilya without really looking at him, "I shall manage to haul this to yon dorm."

He stepped over to it and hefted it easily.

Ilya can feel his self esteem drop at the way his roommate can't even look at him. He's useless, and everyone in the room is aware of it, and that shouldn't really bother him considering he just met the guy, but it does. So he just gets the door and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"I'll get the doors," he agrees quietly, mentally making plans to bulk up somehow so he wouldn't be like this in the future.

While Ilya and D'Artagnan were busy getting his sewing machine, Dolemeck traveled down the hallway to one of the mansion's many linen closets. They still had blankets inside, as no one had moved them over to the dorms, yet.

"Well SOMEONE skipped out on this chore." he grinned to himself, taking a few blankets from the lowest shelf, and then putting one over himself. He then wheeled himself back over to Ilya and D'Artagnan, making ghost noises.

"I am the blanket ghost! I come with blankets and warm things!"

D'Artagnan, with very helpful door assist from Ilya, got the sewing machine to Dolemeck and Brody's room. He put it in a clear space he thought looked appropriate for the bulky contraption. It had been easy enough without increasing his density to add strength.

He brushed his hands together at a job well done. "Well done, sirrah." He paused to glance at the 'ghost.' "Now, I will exit to seek a priest. I shall see you anon."

Ilya rarely laughed, but D'Artagnan's deadpan reaction was just priceless, and he laughed aloud before he could help it, smothering his chuckles with a hand. "A priest or a laundromat. Either would work."

It's the first time he's really laughed in a few days. For someone who used to go months between laughs, it's still a new experience.

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dolemeck - 2014-12-31 03:27 (UTC) - Expand

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kid_from_chukotka - 2014-12-31 04:02 (UTC) - Expand

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