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Under the Sun; Open
Topic Started: Apr 2 2010, 07:05 AM (383 Views)
Specter
Unregistered

Time of day: Midday
Place in the time-line: March 27th


A smile hovered over Dallas's lips as he slipped his phone back into his pocket with one hand while the other reached for the well-thumbed book sitting atop the shaded table. It was always good to hear his grandfather's voice at the other end of the line. A little over a week at Xavier's had been enough to convince him he'd done the right thing in coming to this place. He could go about his day without people staring at him or spitting at his feet as he trudged past, he could step outside or into a dark hallway without fear of his classmates lynching him, he could sleep soundly and without worry. These were all good things, the kind of basic things many people took for granted but which felt genuinely wondrous to him right now. He hadn't been prepared for quite how liberating it would feel to start a new life.

Still, despite the thousand and one reasons he had for not wanting to go back to Oregon, he couldn't help feeling homesick, missing his grandfather especially. They'd been each other's world for Dallas's whole life. They'd always taken care of each other, through good times and bad, so being so far away from him now was a wrench. It'd take some getting used to. They spoke on the phone every day though, and that always lifted his mood, just as it had today. Though he liked to be social, especially in a place where he really didn't know anybody, he'd chosen to head outside to sit at one of the tables on the patio rather than sharing his lunch with others today so that he didn't bother anybody by yammering away on the phone.

It was a little chilly, spring reluctant to fully emerge, it seemed. The sun may not have been so hot but it was bright and that was good enough for him. Weather permitting, he always liked to find an excuse to slip outside at midday when the sun was at its peak, exposing himself and his shadow to the fullness of its rays. He wasn't an energy absorber, he wasn't stocking up on solar power to use later or anything of that nature, but the brightness of the sun made his shadow thicker, deeper, stronger. This was the time of day when his shadow felt most alive and that was something Dallas both wanted and needed. The smile on his face was an after-effect of chatting with his grandpa, sure, but it was also a result of the sense of companionship and security his shadow was providing.

That smile hung around as he flicked through the copy of Of Mice And Men he was supposed to be reading for class, trying to figure out what bit he'd read last. Luckily for him, this was a book he'd read before a few years ago, back when his grandfather was going through a phase of throwing books at him to 'broaden his horizons' or somesuch thing. Now that he was actually studying it, he figured it'd be wise to at least skim the book again to refresh his memory of it. This was a new school, one which had taken him in when he desperately needed it, so it was only right that he should make an effort. Taking a quick gulp of his Dr. Pepper, Dallas settled down to chapter four.

"He's fine," he suddenly said after a few minutes had passed, seemingly talking to nobody since he didn't look up from his book. "He'd tell me if there was anything wrong."

He was quiet again for a few more seconds before rolling his eyes. "No, he didn't. He sounded the same as he always does. You worry too much." To the casual observer, Dallas might seem like a bit of a nutjob, sitting alone outside and chatting away merrily to his book. In reality, it wasn't the book he was deep in conversation with. It was his shadow, which had slithered around the table and up onto the back of the chair beside him to 'enjoy' the sun. The communication which passed between them was fairly constant and usually mental, but occasionally Dallas would accidentally start talking to his shadow out loud. More often than he realised, in fact. Embodying many of the darker and more negative aspects of Dallas's psyche, the shadow was currently indulging in a little paranoia.

"Stop it." Dallas held his hand up at the shadow to 'silence' it, still not looking up from his book, half his attention still on the trials and tribulations of George and Lennie. "Look, seriously, Grandpa's okay. He's been feeling better for ages. Anyway, I talked to Auntie Rose and she promised she'd let me know if he was having problems. And she hasn't so it's all good. Doofus."

If anyone could see him now, they might think he was crazy. But then, this was mutant school, so Dallas probably wasn't the strangest sight the Institute had to offer today.
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Artie
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One of those stranger sights suddenly came barreling around the corner in the shape of one Arthur Maddicks, all of nine years old, bright pink, white perfectly round eyes, and wearing what appeared to be a miniature X-Man uniform topped incongruously by a blue knit cap with a yellow smiley face sewn into it. He was being chased by a holographic sentinel just barely taller than himself that stomped its way towards him, flinging harmless but scarily looking beams of yellow light at the little boy. Artie ducked and rolled and dodged every attack, a grim look on his lips, a twinkle in his eye, and then, he crouched into an dangerous stance, long metal claws made of hard light growing out of his fists. He readied for a pounce and then realized that there was someone sitting at the table under the tree, apparently talking to himself. Artie put his finger in his mouth thoughtfully, and looked around. Was there someone he couldn't see? Nope, it seemed like the big kid was alone.

Well, Artie had long since come to the opinion that teenagers were absolutely crazy... except for Kitty, of course, she was wonderful, but nobody tell Rodney that or Artie would never hear the end of it... But this kid... Artie had never seen him before, and with rumors that people were going crazy, like Billy, and Bobby, and even Mr. Scott... It was pretty scary. Maybe this kid was crazy too.

Artie made his holographic toys go away and his uniform melted into shorts and a t-shirt with Spider-Man on it, and of course, he ever present beanie, a present from his beloved Leech who went away and never came back. Approaching with caution, the little boy went up to the table, and waved. Above his head a cartoon name tag appeared reading the word "Artie" in childish printing. He never expected people to know sign language so he made his hologram pictures. This was a mutant school people should be used to it.
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Specter
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Dallas had heard rumours about two or three of the school's residents acting a little nutso but, innocent to the ways of life in a building full of mutants, he'd dismissed it as nothing more than talk. He figured the tales of Mr. Grey-Summers and the others were just that - tales, tall stories concocted just to freak out the new kid. No way was he falling for that, so he'd just smiled and nodded whenever anyone mentioned it in hushed tones, then carried on about his business, paying none of it any heed. His shadow fretted that he'd found himself in some kind of asylum and he was surely doomed but he wrote that off as his shadow's typical paranoia. No matter how unusual the occupants might be, this would be just like any other school where scary things like that just didn't happen. Right?

He was probably in for a rude awakening sooner or later.

With his attention torn between the book and the conversation with his shadow, Dallas didn't notice at first that he had company. One might think that holographic Sentinel warfare might attract a person's attention, but not this guy. It was only when the new arrival began approaching his table that Dallas caught a movement in the corner of his eye and glanced up, a smile readily prepared on his lips to greet whoever this may be.

To his shame, that smile faltered for a moment as he laid eyes on the kid. Until coming to this school just over a week ago, Dallas had never seen a mutant before. Well, apart from himself but that didn't count. It still surprised him whenever he saw someone flying or glowing and he supposed it'd probably be a while before he got used to it. It was the people with physical mutations who really threw him though. He'd known there were mutants out there with two heads and wings and tails and whatever else, but seeing such things in reality was jarring. Not that he had a problem with it. His ferociously open-minded grandfather had drilled tolerance into his head since he was tiny. In fact, Ernest Gibson would be very cross with him if he caught him being wrongfooted by the sight of someone just because they were different. So this little guy had pink skin and big round eyes, so what? He was still a person and deserved to be treated with respect.

So, half a second after his smile wobbled, Dallas forced it back into place, greeting the stranger with a cheery, "Hey there." When an image suddenly appeared above the kid's head, he hesitated, confused about where it was coming from. Puzzlement filled his features for a moment, glancing around in search of a projector or... something else that could produce an effect like that, before he finally connected the dots.

"Hey, is that you doing that?" he asked, pointing at the cartoon name tag. "Dude. That is awesome." He meant that too. It was bizarre but totally great. Seeing mutants in action might be something he was still getting used to but it was also incredibly cool. "So, that's your name? Artie? I'm Dallas." Smiling, he offered his palm for a handshake if Artie was up for it. "You go to school here too?"
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Artie
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Artie didn't miss the smile falter, and if he was a different little boy, it might have hurt his feelings. But he had looked like this for almost as long as he hadn't looked like this and he had almost forgotten what it was like to be normal. So, Artie just shrugged and let the new kid recover, which he did quickly and even held out his hand for a shake as he commented on Artie's picture. He nodded to confirm that he did make the picture and his name was Artie. At the big kid's introduction he thought and another image popped up over his head.

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Miss Rahne was teaching them geography and the states, with some of the main cities. Who knew that it would ever come in handy like this.

He nodded at the question about if he went to school here, and thought it was a silly question. Why else would he be here? The little boy pointed at the school and made signs with his hands like talking, holding them up to his ears and pulling a face. Too noisy, too many people. He waved his hands all around, and cupped a hand behind his ear, leaning exaggeratedly, like he was listening to the quiet outside. He leaned the other way and hitched his shoulders in a big faked sigh. Ahhh, quiet.

He pointed at Dallas and several question marks bloomed around his head. Same for you? Is that why you were outside instead of with everyone else?

The little boy climbed onto the bench opposite Dallas, swinging his sneakered feet of the end, in the unashamed intrusion of the young.
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Specter
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Dallas's gaze flickered upwards as a new image appeared above Artie's head, a grin forming on his lips. That would never get old. It took a moment for his brain to kick into gear (not an unusual phenomenon for him, alas) but a good-natured laugh passed his lips once he recognised the shape he was looking at.

"Yeah, that's it. Dallas, just like the place." It was possible he was actually named after the Dallas that Artie was displaying, but he had no idea. His name was unusual enough that he figured there might be a fun story behind it but, if there was, it had gone to the grave with his parents.

Artie began waving his arms around to communicate with him and that seemed to confirm that the young fella wasn't displaying images just to show off his power or because it was fun. He couldn't talk. Dallas wondered if the poor guy was born like that or if it was a side effect of his powers. His genes had given him a unique way of 'talking' but had stopped him from speaking in the process, maybe. Either way, Artie seemed at ease with who he was, if first impressions were to be believed. Dallas wasn't convinced he'd cope with Artie's situation so well if their positions were reversed.

Following the lad's animated motions, Dallas smiled at the effective way Artie got his message across, nodding his head a little. "Yeah, it does seem to get a little loud in there sometimes." As Artie turned the question in his direction, Dallas leaned back in his seat, closing up his book to better allow him to carry a conversation. It was nice that someone had come to join him out here. He was a social animal so being in a strange place surrounded by strangers was a weird feeling for him. The sooner he started making friends and having people to actually hang out with, the better. Sitting on his own was no good, even if he did have his shadow for company.

"Oh, I don't mind the noise too much. I just really like the sun so I always try to get outside for part of the day. Can't wait for summer to get here." He paused long enough to grab a sip of his drink before carrying on. "But mainly I came out here because I wanted some privacy. I had to call my Grandpa, you see. I've only been here a little over a week and he's still worrying about how I'm settling in. If I don't call every day, he freaks out," he explained with a smile and a slight shrug of the shoulders. This was only half the story, of course. The truth was that Dallas was missing him like crazy and the phonecall home was the highlight of his day, but he figured he might lose cool points if he actually said that out loud. "How about you, have you been here long? Do you like it?"
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Artie
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The new big kid was really good at picking up what he meant. Some of the others had problems... or maybe they just pretended to have problems. You could never really tell with big kids. A lot of teenager liked to pretend they were soooo cool, and soooo sad all the time. Very stupid, it Artie's opinion, and he might only be nine years old, but he was going to be president someday. Speaking of which... He pulled out a notebook, with a lot of signatures in it, under the simple statement, "I will vote for Artie Maddicks for President." He pushed to Dallas as he listened to the teen's story.

When Dallas asked him about school and stuff, a new image appeared over the boy's head, of a gravestone that read "Dad and Mom" as the boy scrambled to his feet on the bench. He made a motion with his hand, indicating a very small height to show how little he had been, holding up four fingers. He pointed to his face, and made an expression of Horror! The image above his head became pitchfork and torch carrying villagers. Putting one hand over his eye, Artie crouched and beckoned like he was calling someone and then, playing his own part pretended to scurry into hiding, showing how his beloved Callisto had taken him into the Morlocks so that he would be safe.

He touched his head, and then reached up, to drag his fingers through the hologram, indicating his powers, nodding over at the school while he did so. Miss Jean and Mr. Scott's pictures popped into existence, and Artie's clothes were masked with a holographic cap and gown, which became an x-man uniform, which became a suit and tie, a podium blinking into existence in front of him, the president shield (poorly drawn because Artie couldn't think of what it looked like) emblazoned boldly on the front. The small pink boy slumped back to the bench, exhausted.

Boy, it sure would be less work if he was able to talk.
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Specter
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Eyebrows lifting a notch, Dallas leant forward a little to peer at the notebook as Artie slid it across the table towards him. His smile spread further as he saw what it was. A pledge of support for a future Artie-shaped president. That was pretty adorable, and it was a campaign he felt he could get behind. Who wouldn't? Clearly, Artie was the future and the future was bright pink.

Preparing himself to add his own signature to the other scrawls littering the paper, he plucked out a pen which had been sitting in the breast pocket of his shirt. He'd brought it out here with him in case he needed to make notes on Of Mice and Men, forgetting that he'd also need paper to write on until he was already sitting out here on the phone to his grandfather. His shadow had laughed at him for being so dim-witted, which was fair enough really. Dallas was about to sign the notebook when Artie started to move his arms around again, so he paused and watched the boy, already realising he needed to keep an eye on him at all times if he was to have a hope of keeping up with him.

Between the holographic images above his head, the animated motions of his arm, and the expressive contortions of his face, Artie told his story. About halfway through, Dallas got a little lost, failing to understand the references to Callisto and the Morlocks, not knowing what a Callisto or a Morlock was, but he felt like he got the general gist and just assumed that the school had saved him directly from the baying mob, just as they had in Dallas's own case. The presidential shield briefly confused him too but he was able to figure it out based on the notebook still sitting in front of him. Artie certainly had some lofty ambitions for himself but he couldn't fault him for that. Dallas's own goals were a little more humble (an X-Man chef wasn't quite as impressive as an X-Man President) but he was just as optimistic about them.

"Man. You've been through a lot, dude. I lost my parents when I was little too," he admitted softly. "I know how crappy that is." Mentioning his parents caused him to instinctively pull his shadow closer, the dark shape shifting over the back of the bench towards him, sliding halfway over his chest. He paused, wondering if he should continue along that line of conversation and commiserate further with Artie over the deaths of their parents but decided there was no point. What was there to say? They both knew it was shitty and they were both getting on with their lives. No point dwelling on it. So he didn't, instead drawing in a breath and letting the smile return to his lips.

"So, you're gonna be President someday, huh? Well, I'd be glad to get in on the ground floor and sign this then." Scribbling 'Dallas Gibson' onto the page, he popped the cap back onto his pen and slid the notebook back over to Artie. "There you go."
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Artie
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Pleased, Artie tucked the notebook back into his pocket. He nodded solemnly at Dallas when the teen mentioned his own parents dying and he reached out to pat his arm, sympathetically. That's when he saw the movement of the older boy's shadow, and he drew back startled. He looked up through the tree they were under, wondering if the sun had been covered by a cloud or something, but nope. The shadow definitely moved on its own. Artie drew back his arm, and looked at the shadow closely, his finger going into his mouth, thoughtfully, and old habit of his.

[align=center]"Posted Image"[/align]

Artie asked in the way that he could, with images that made sense to him. He pointed up to the hologram and then to himself, and then pointed to the shadow, followed by jabbing his pink finger at Dallas. This is my power, is that your power? He thought he knew some other people with shadow power, maybe, maybe he did. He couldn't really remember how many people he'd met since being rescued from the bad doctors by Callisto.

He jumped off the bench and looked at the school. It was almost time for afternoon classes. They should probably get back to the school if people weren't going to miss them. But he wanted to make sure he knew that Dallas was ok to go back in.

Holding out his hand, he beckoned and looked to the school. Time to go. Are you coming?
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Specter
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Dallas allowed himself a little smile as Artie patted his arm, appreciating the fact that the younger boy was offering his sympathies. In truth, he didn't carry around a debilitating level of angst over the deaths of his parents. Of course, thinking about them made him feel sad and, given the choice, he'd want them back, but, as callous as it sounded, he hardly remembered them and had been fortunate enough to have another relative who was willing to take care of him. He'd been tremendously lucky, really. His grandfather had provided him with a stable, secure, happy life. The odds had clearly been stacked against Artie far more than they had against Dallas, which just made it all the more touching that the lad was willing to put his own troubles aside and offer comfort to him. It spoke volumes about the kid's heart, in his opinion.

When Artie suddenly drew back, Dallas was briefly baffled. Consciously, he hadn't been aware of moving his shadow at all, already comfortable enough in this environment that he didn't bother to keep a tight rein on its movements, instead allowing it to respond to the subtle shifts in his mood. It wasn't until the image of Peter Pan manifested above Artie's head that he realised what must have happened. Luckily for him, he'd never had to face the tricky problem of reattaching his shadow in the way Peter Pan had, and he hoped he never would. Being separated from his shadow, even briefly, was a thought which terrified him.

He smiled when Artie used hand gestures to ask if Dallas's shadow was his power, offering a nod of the head. "Yeah, that's my mutant thing." Under Dallas's mental direction, the shadow slithered its upper 'body' onto the table between them, waving a hand at Artie in greeting. "I can move my shadow around. And when I put him on my body, he makes me stronger. It's not as cool as what you do," he admitted with a grin. Not that he'd trade his power. He'd never give up his shadow. Artie's power was awesome though. All those imaginative holograms were just too much fun.

Following Artie's gaze to the school, Dallas continued the trend of being slightly slow on the uptake, glancing back at the boy curiously as he tried to decipher the message he was attempting to get across. A light bulb finally switched on in his brain and he jerked back his sleeve to peer down at his watch.

"Man, is it that time already?" His shoulders sagged a little. Chatting with Artie was fun, it was lame that they had to cut it short just so they could sit in a classroom. This was exactly the reason his schoolwork was never quite as good as it could be. Hanging out was always more interesting to him than geography or physics. Grabbing his book and downing the last of the Dr Pepper, he patted his pocket to double check that his phone was safely secured there, before rising from the table, his shadow following dutifully behind him. "Guess we'd better get moving then. It's been cool meeting you though, Artie," he added, with a sunny smile.
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