xavier_institute

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What looks like a sword but won't hurt anyone?

It's important.

[Great description, Jack, very informative.

Since Saturday, Jack has been spotted a few times leaving his room to explore quiet places near the dorms, occasionally pocketing money ~~and other random objects~~ found on the floor or picking up oblong objects and testing them against walls. A few of them have caused cracks. Apparently his quest is getting stale enough to need help.]

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This thing like a baton with a foam sleeve on it. And a cricket bat is it looks like this It doesn't hurt that much, I don't think

[Flan you regenerate that's cheating. Though she adds a bit quickly a moment later:]

It's not actually made of crickets.

...Baton?

[Silence for like a minute after he looks at the cricket bats.]

...That can't be for playing. That is for killing people.

Like...a stick. There's probably some foam bats in the gym; I could get them for you.

[She's trying hard not to giggle at the last reaction, though.]

I've seen people get hit in the shins with them, but I don't remember anyone dying even with how vicious sports can get.

[Unless of course you're in a movie with someone named Shaun.]

You could get me one. I have to see how hard it is.

[His latter reaction continues with a frown.]

I'm stronger than most people. I don't want to hurt Beast Boy by accident.

[This boy has killed 7-foot mutants with his wrench. At least he's being responsible.]

Ah. You too? I'll get you one of the bats.

You're strong too?

[!!!

Sounds way more important than continuing his pursuit for a sword.]

I am--um

[Flandre fumbles with a setting on her phone, and then her face appears in the webcam in response! She had been feeling brave that day and hadn't worn her gloves, so her claws were easily visible when she waved along with how red her eyes were.]

Hi there.

[DEAR CHRIST IS THAT A SPLICER.

His response may or may not be coming from a new computer because he may or may not have just whipped out his wrench and smashed the monitor of the last one.]

I... oh.

[His knuckles are white on the hand holding his wrench and he's just kind of staring. A lot of mutations haven't really spooked him but she just... looks way more like the things he's designed to kill than people like Beast Boy do.]

[At least she wasn't crawling on the walls for fun this time?

Flandre's wave stops mid-motion, fingers curling over halfway and her head tilting a little to the side. Then the other, blinking and looking more perplexed than otherwise.]

Are you all right?

Fine.

[He grimaces and drops his wrench. He is... not comfortable. Or even remotely fine.]

[Was she being scary? She didn't think so, but--it was because she wasn't wearing her gloves, wasn't it? Sister had stopped hiding her wings, so Flandre had thought not wearing them was fine too.

Flandre's face was a mixture of pensive and sad before she turned the webcam off, but still stayed on the line.]

Is this better?

[He slowly starts to calm down... it's a process, but he's going in that direction.]

I'm sorry. You... uh... it's your hands. And face. It's a... habit. Getting upset about... people that look like...

[He can tell this isn't making anything better. Or explaining anything. But he's trying his best.]

[There's a little grumbly huff before she answers this time.]

I'm not a vampire, so you don't need to worry about that.

[The grumble goes out of her voice now, though; it wasn't his fault that that irritating rumor persisted.]

I have gloves, though I can't help with my eyes. They glow in dark places anyway and then everything looks purple.

I... wasn't thinking of a vampire.

[He settles down a bit more, lowering his wrench and holding it a bit more comfortably.]

Back home I killed people that looked like... you. But different. And no... wings.

[Said wings pinned back uncomfortably on her back, though now of course he couldn't see them. He might still hear the crystals rattling as they shifted about, though.]

...I see.

[A part of her mind petulantly insisted that 'well he can't kill me.' The rest of her mind logically insisted on never finding out ever.]

What's your name?

[Maybe changing the subject a bit would help. Flandre willed her wings to stop their fidgeting on her back, even.]

[Deep breath.]

It's Jack.

[The change of topic isn't really helping yet, but if he hopes enough maybe it will.]

I'm Flandre.

[A pause, as she thinks for a moment.]

Do you like your name?

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[Text -> Video ] Thanks for eating all my notifs email B|

[Video] e-mails are the bane of rps ngl

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