wilderlogs | Overheard at Camp Melai; Does this mean Robbie's Klinger?

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Overheard at Camp Melai; Does this mean Robbie's Klinger?

Who: Robbie and anyone (special starter for Dixon and Sirius)
What: OVERHEARD AT CAMP, Robbie accidentally figures out the healing thing. Someone tell him about it in the morning.
Where: Camp 1 - Melai Temple
When: Shortly after arrival. All conversations will pre-date that with Dixon and Sirius.
Warnings/Notes: "Overheard at camp" is basically my idea for posting several quick, one-off lines that can be taken out of context (or maybe in context) and seeing what people make of them. Possibly some talk of Dixon and Sirius' injuries.

[ 1: In the kitchen. ]

Dibs on the fleshhook!

[ 2: In the main hall, as he dumps a collection of wood-ish things in a pile in the center of the room for an anticipated fire. ]

Yay, carbon monoxide!

[ 3: Anywhere. ]

Hey, V- guys? This old Enya statue won't not stop undressing me with her eyes. It's freaking me out.

[ For Dixon and later Remus. ]
[ When Robbie heads over to Dixon, he doesn't have a specific plan in mind. He's got what small bits of cloth he could find, not wanting to cut up blankets; anyway, he's unsure how to bandage a face without mummifying Dixon. He remembered to clean them by boiling and to boil separate water for cleaning the wound, which has him feeling rather pleased with himself. He's no doctor, and he wouldn't call any of this sanitary, but Robbie's doing what he can. ]

Hey, I figured you might want to... I don't know, get the day's crap off of that.

[ He looks pointedly at the burn and then resumes talking to Dixon's face as a whole. ]

Or whatever your doc told you to do. If it's one of those things where you flinch too much to do it yourself, I'm not skeeved out by it. I can help.

[ Infections are nasty business, and his pockets don't have any Tylenol. You get a high fever - you're dying. ]

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They'd probably be madder about the fact that it's the offal. Honestly, I don't get it either, but I'm just the chief, not the village elder. That's Gothi's job.

[And while Hiccup questioned pretty much everything on a daily basis, you questioned Gothi at your own peril. That staff hurt.}

And we've got skylights and a pretty open floor plan. We'll be fine. I'm actually a little more worried about the drafts when night hits. Not everybody's dressed for the cold.

[ The look Robbie gives him can only be described as sideways. He’s trying to rationalize that statement, blame it on the miseducation of public schools. People actually think that only Mexicans speak Spanish. ]

Nah, but some of my cooler friends are. My family’s mostly English, with some French and German way, way back. I think one of my greats- was Czechoslovakian.

[ That last is about as spicy as his gene pool gets, but it’s always sounded like the exotic bit to him in a my-people-use-paprika sort of way. He mentions it now as a defense, like it moves him closer to Latino. Silly, he knows, but the comment still feels gross.

But they’re joking and Dixon needs another set of hands. He’s reading too much into it and doesn't want to be rude, so he smirks in response to the order and moves on. ]

Yeah, I don’t mind. Hang on though, I need a tool.

[ Tweezers would be best, but he doesn’t carry them ever and hasn’t seen anything like that. He does have his wallet, though, and fishes his driver’s license. Robert J. Baldwin, organ donor, is going to get his face dirty.

Robbie holds his hand out expectantly for Dixon’s, intending to use the corner of the plastic card to leverage the gravel free. ]

Sorry, I don’t think I can boil this one. It needs to be stiff and straight. That’s not a euphemism.

Oh, okay.

[ Robbie nods, like being school friends obviously explains why the other kid isn't here. Actually, with schools like Avengers Academy and Xavier's Institute floating around, 'school friends' is probably a liability in Robbie's universe. ]

Enh, I'm not crazy about horror. Murder and gore isn't entertainment. I like comedies and action. Dumb stuff that doesn't make you think too hard. The only way they seem too long is if the script isn't funny.

[ Robbie crosses his arms and adopts a certain amount of faux sternness. ]

I have it on the highest authority - mine - that I've used dozens of words that make absolute sense. If the magical translation headwhammy horfs on idioms and jokes, that is not my fault.

I don't know what offal is. It sounds de-lightful - no, that's okay. Please don't enlighten me with your strange anachronistic words.

[ If it's not prominently displayed in a supermarket or served in a restaurant, it is beyond his food experience. ]

I guess the people with the most clothes - [ He indicates his hoodie. ] Sleep the farthest from the fire. And the least dressed get applause and the blankets.

I think my family might got some French in them. Cajun French, way back, on my momma's side, but who knows? We never did that family tree stuff.

[Dixon's chief left him some very simple instructions after his death, which included to stop being a hateful bigot - and Dixon's been trying in earnest. But some hate is easy to recognize in one's self, the throwing people out windows, the slurs, the arrests without cause. And then there's the subtle stuff that Dixon doesn't even realize is part of the fuel underneath the extreme actions.

He's got a long way to go and doesn't even know what obstacles lie along that shrouded path.

Clever, using the edge of the driver's license. Dixon extends a trembling hand, preemptively wincing, knowing that the process of cleaning out the injury is going to be like holding onto a hot pan handle. He's no stranger to pain, especially not lately, but there's only so much you can subject yourself to before you get shy of it. He keeps the joking around going, if only as a distraction.]

Don't flirt with me. I'm out of your league.

[He bites his lip, aware that along the way he unsettled Robbie and hoping it's just because of the gruesome nature of the assistance he needs. Or maybe it's a Yankee thing. There's always been some crossed wires between the occasional Northerner that's passed through Ebbing and the townsfolk there.]

All movies are too long for me. Kinda helps if I can do other stuff while I'm watchin'um, but people get annoyed when I do that.

And I'm not real big on the horror movies that are supposed to be good. They're either boring or gross.

[ It doesn't help that there isn't much that genuinely scares him. ]

But as far as bad movies go some of the cheesy horror ones can be kinda funny, I guess. Like the ones with Vincent Price. I do like action movies though. 'Specially the fast-paced ones, or the sci-fi ones. Oh! Have you ever seen Galaxy Quest?

I love that one.

You're making it worse.

[ And he knows he's making it worse. Simmons is familiar with this kind of conversation. ]

I don't think of it as making it worse. I think of it as teaching us to appreciate the less objectionable moments better.

[ Careful, Simmons. You're auditioning for straight man. ]

[ Simmons sighs wearily. He's actually been feeling pretty good, the temple agrees with his brand of magic, but ugh. ]

Look. I think if I...

[ He reaches up and puts his right hand (well, gauntlet) on the statue's face and furrows his brow.

When he pulls it away, he's imbued the head of the statue with a soft internal glow. Without any shadows, it's harder to distinguish the features. ]

There. Better.

[ It's... debatable. ]

It's animal guts. Get used to it, you're going to see a lot of it once we start hunting. Boar and deer don't come pre-gutted and skinned out here in the wild.

[Hiccup gets t his feet, brushing himself off.]

Speaking of, we should probably get that fire built so we can start cooking the meat while there's still light.

[Kon looks up at Robbie from rummaging through kitchen implements.]

And I thought I was oozing creepy right now.

[Anytime he steps inside the temple, the whatever-it-is that's curled up somewhere deep and dark inside him stirs up like it's uncomfortable, and the changes happen. Blackened eyes, thin black veins spidering around his face around his eyes.]

[He's already had his freak out about it and is trying to just... work around it. He can still see, even if his vision is a little warped and weird. It's not like he can just sleep alone outside or something. Too cold and too dangerous.]

[Kon peers at Robbie with those blackened eyes but there's a twinge of a smile on his face that softens up the creepy a little bit. How much it does so is debateable. He picks up a knife and wiggles it in the air.]

Want this, too? It's probably better for if you want to get a good REE REE REE in. If you're going slasher monster, I don't see anything creepy you can use for a mask but I guess that's what human faces are for.

[The question of the hour is whether Kon is joking about horror movies or offering advice on actual murder. Time for Robbie to guess: 1, 2, 3 go! ]

[ Robbie holds off a moment to take it all in. The obviously “bad” seeming powers, the bitter sarcastic humor – ree ree ree is the big clue that the teen is joking, but the human face joke is dark.

He thinks randomly of Hazmat and how he should have been a better, calmer teacher in the face of her anger and poor coping skills. Robbie won’t let this kid get to him the same way. ]

Back in the diseased ages before refrigeration, the safest way to cook anything was boiling it in a giant pot.

[ He ticks his head towards the large collection of said pots. ]

But you can’t just reach into a pot of boiling water and grab an entire leg of lamb, so. [ He holds up the fleshhook. ] The guy with the fleshhook is the guy they find when dinner's done.

[ The plan is diabolical in its simplicity, and Robbie’s brief grin says that he knows it, before it falls away. ]

Pass on the knife. I’m not good with blades.

Edited 2018-03-31 12:00 (UTC)

[ Robbie nods at the offered morsel of ethnicity. It’s at least something - some sort of identity that isn’t always looked at positively. He knows that Cajun is sometimes seen as Other, and Robbie thinks that maybe he’s being over sensitive about the Mexican comment. It’s probably lack of education leading Dixon to know the name of only one Latin American country. ]

You should be careful how you spread that around, Emeril, or we're all going to expect gumbo every night.

[ One of his hands closes tightly around the offered wrist. Robbie forces it to steady, and the grip won’t allow Dixon’s hand to be pulled back easily. They both know it’s going to hurt.

He starts coaxing out the gravel, and after the first chunk, he uses more force. It’s better to get it out quick on the first attempt than to try to be gentle and need several goes at the already tortured skin.

Robbie, too, jokes as he goes, wanting to provide a focus other than pain. ]

But I’m not so sure we should be using cayenne and okra for dinner. That’s enough of a digestion challenge when we have good toilet paper. I haven’t seen any cha-cha-cha Charmin', and I’ve been looking. I have a delicate, pampered heiny. I’ve put in a requisition form regarding a bidet.

[ His eyes stay on his work, grimly assessing the next place of attack even as he digs the card beside a new pebble. He’s not squeamish, and he doesn’t want to waste time between motions. Robbie knows he’s racing against Dixon’s pain tolerance. ]

And old and cantankerous is not my type. I’m kind of in this dating-people-who-don't-attack-strangers phase. It’s a new scene. The app's called PaciKissed.

[Oh, Robbie, you're giving Dixon and his beliefs on race so much more credit than they could possibly deserve.]

We're gonna have to get creative with what we put in that gumbo. I don't know how to season a raccoon.

[Dixon buries himself in the sound of Robbie's voice, kind of half-listening to the content, letting each syllable tug him back out from the undercurrent of pain. If it weren't his hand, if it weren't burned instead of just scraped, if his nerves weren't shot from detox, it might be easier. But Robbie's ramble gives him something to grab onto, and forcing out a few laughs helps.

Maybe he should have caught fire a long time ago. He's stumbled into quite a few instances of compassion that he didn't expect and doesn't think he deserves since that. He either didn't find any or didn't know how to recognize them before. It's like when the the snow melts and everything you forgot was under there shows up on your lawn.]

Do those phone apps work? [He grinds his teeth hard as Robbie gets some of the last of the debris out.] Only time I tried one it said the nearest chick was seventy miles away.

And I didn't attack the rock kid first.

[It's his line and he's sticking to it, and there is some truth to it - but by now it's just a kind of compulsive comment, not an argument he's looking for. He doesn't want to relitigate the way he faceplanted the first group meeting.]

Hey, it’s your free time. As long as you’re not making too much noise or standing in front of the screen, you should do what you want.

[ Definitely getting an impression that Impulse has ADHD, and he can see how it might bug people. Robbie still hopes the kid’s friends accommodate him a little. ]

Vincent Price? Dude, that’s some real oldschool. Nice. [ He has to think about Galaxy Quest though. ] That’s the one where Tim Allen plays a total idiot actor, right? I can’t get through the first fifteen minutes. Sorry, I've tried.

[ The temple agrees with Robbie, too, although he hasn't realized it. He's feeling pretty chipper.

The weird light show is a new power to him though. He's aware of some mutants who can charge an object to explode and takes a big step back. ]

Is that like Frodo with the poisoned dagger seeing Glorfindel or is it this statue will self destruct in ten seconds?

[ It's hard for him to feel sick here in the temple, but Robbie is distinctly Not Hungry now. ]

Oh man, I just dedicated myself to the Fabulous Moolah. Goddess of cows and lady wrestling. I'm vegan.

[ He looks down at the fire pile. ]

I also don't know how to start fires on purpose.

[ He doesn't even hesitate at those references. ]

So far I'm thinking it's more zero-level Evocation?

[ Simmons. Simmons, my dude. ]

Nothing's blown up yet.

[In that half second's pause, Kon is already kicking himself. Making jokes about horror movies, and human faces, while holding a knife? While looking like this?]

[What were you thinking? Idiot.]

[But then Robbie continues and explains, and Kon smiles widely.]

Okay then, if I see you come running while holding up a flesh hook, I guess it means we're not in Bikini Summer Slaughterhouse 5 and that I should follow you instead of running away screaming.

[Because he's going to want food a lot. He's a growing teenage boy, after all, and now he can't get energy from the usual Sunny D. He's already hungry right now as he speaks. ]

[But then Robbie's smile falls away again and Kon gets self conscious once more.]

I'm not really a knife guy either but we're probably going to have to hunt stuff and learn how to live all caveman style and make fur cloaks or something.

[He picks one that looks like a hunting knife and rummages around and finds the sheathe for it. He's keeping this one.]

Are you sure your jokes don't just suck?

First off, I don't care how the thing with Phos started. You're the adult, so you can't have the 'I'm going to be the one to finish it' mentality, because we know the teenager does. Second, remind me to never ask about the meat stew.

[ Trash pandas are not for eating, nor are rats. He's going to have to keep a real distance from the kitchen, because he doubts the standard Triple Crown of cow/pig/chicken are going to be on offer tonight. ]

And I don't know if dating apps work or not. [ What? There's joking, and then there's outright lying. He has no idea and acting like they make him a playa wouldn't be right. ] I live in New York now, so I'd probably get more hits. You're never the only one in New York.

[ He's finished with Dixon's hand and lets it go, eyes traveling to the damage on face and neck. He thinks they look cleaner, thank whatever god has this temple, but he's not leaning in to check. ]

I'm going to spread the word that you should have first dibs on any alcohol that turns up.

[ Strategically leaving out the next part in the plan, 'me and that big dark-haired kid can hold you down while someone pours it over the burns to sterilize them.' Robbie can practically hear the screaming that will involve. ]

I wish there was something I could do about your face...

[ His hand is raised, like he might reach to daub at the raw facial skin, and his thoughts are all coloured with mercy and empathy. When he starts to glow white, Robbie jerks back and nearly topples over. Of all the colors his powers have ever been, white isn't one of them. But it feels... good. A little tingly in his broken hand, then warm and a feeling like the swelling draining out in a rush.

His focus had been on Dixon, though, and after a few seconds, the light pours out of him in a sharply defined wave. It doesn't make it far, just a couple of feet, but it's enough for Dixon, and anyone walking closely by, to be caught in the light.

The light buoys Robbie up, but he can feel himself draining away. It feels like using up the kinetic energy saved up in an entire fight - no, in several days of training - in about ten seconds. The glow shuts off like someone flips a switch, and there's nothing left to keep him going. ]

That's... new...

[ His voice is thick and slurry like the town drunk in a 50s movie. Robbie tries to look at his hand, but the downward tip of his head and eyes is too much for his equilibrium. The room keeps spinning even when he's stopped moving, and then his brain gives up and directs his eyes to roll back into his head. It's time to sleep it off. He pitches forward. ]

That's what I've said! But no one believes me when I tell them I can pay attention to the movie while I'm doing something else.

[ Thank you, Robbie. ]

Yeah, Tim Allen was probably my least favorite part of it. But I liked Allen Rickman and Tony Shalhoub.

I actually do, but you're kind of assuming either of us really needs to. Not when there's a fire breathing dragon who can do it for us.

Toothless, you want to help us out with this over here?

[The dragon groans, annoyed at being woken up, but slowly gets to his feet and reluctantly trudges over.]

[ Because they're awesome references and clearly worth knowing the people who know them. ]

Does evocation normally work on inanimate objects? I don't remember the nightlight effect.

[ He looks from the statue to Simmons and decides, enh, he seems trustworthy enough. The armor's not enough to hide that the dude knew who Glorfindel was, and let's face it, supervillains are the bullied kids who don't own their nerdery and uniqueness. ]

I guess we should find out if it blows up when someone else goes near it.

[ He reaches forward to touch the shining face. ]

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Overheard at Camp Melai; Does this mean Robbie's Klinger?

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