Title: 50 Altered States
Lucas Nilsson - June 4, 2011 11:43 PM (GMT)
Lucas had been sitting in the kitchen for a bit now. It seemed to be one of the few quieter places in the house. Well, at least after meals it was quiet. Once people had left and weren't cooking. Every now and then a person or two may have entered to cook something, but at the moment it was relatively quiet. Lucas was enjoying the peace. As was another boy who seemed only a bit older than himself. Lucas' head had been down for about a good ten minutes now. He was busy in his sketchbook, like usual. He had started to draw a city scape, but as he began to sketch out his people, they began to turn into bees. Lucas really didn't know why he was sketching bees at first.
That was until he realised he was smelling honey. Lucas' brown eyes looked from his page. First he looked to the other boy, giving him a questioning look. As if he was asking the boy if he smelt that too? Lucas tried to ignore it though, he looked back down and went back to sketching. A few more minutes went by before it was beginning to drive him mad. Not the smell, but the fact he didn't know where it was coming from. Without a word Lucas got up and began to search the kitchen. He probably looked crazy, but it doesn't bother him. He opened cupboards, the microwave and than finally the oven. Thinking someone may have been baking some honey infused dessert, because what else was honey used with? Besides barbeque sauce, any good southerner knew that. Letting the oven door slam shut, Lucas put his hands on his hips more than confused.
"Do you smell that or am I going crazy?" Lucas asked the other boy. Lucas just couldn't figure out why it smelt like honey. Lucas wanted his dumb question answered. He was actually quite worried he was crazy, since his searching had not found him a single trace of honey in the room. Lucas walked back over to his chair and sat down. His arms laid to his sides, feeling somewhat defeated. Yep, smells defeated this poor boy. He stared at his paper, not sure if he wanted to go back to writing. His peace had been disturbed by realizing something seemed to be off in the room.
Hive - June 5, 2011 12:42 AM (GMT)
The dinner crowd clears out, and the kitchen becomes the loneliest place in the world. At least for a few hours, 'till some of the more voracious students return for snacking. Most of the time, Hive lingered after dinner. Sometimes it was to get a bit of peace and quiet, yet other times it vexed him. He often sat, his nose buried in whatever it was he was doing, for longer than an hour some days, before he realized he was all by himself, still sitting in the dining area. Perhaps it was the quiet air, slowly settling from the bustle of meal time, the even sun catching tiny, dancing particles in its warm glow. Perhaps it was the aroma that lingered, a wondrous bouquet of scents swirling around, looking for a way out to mix with the other scents of the world. The best sort of scents came after particularly sticky deserts, like peach crumble and ice cream or jelly rolls. Dinner didn't quite compare to the aroma of breakfast, with maple syrup and delicious flavored jams abound, but Monte rather enjoyed a jog after breakfast, so lingering after dinner it was.
On this particular evening, Monte found himself engrossed in an older text detailing the flora and fauna of upstate New York, complete with copies of the sketches the first pioneers of the area returned to society with. How well-rounded many prominent individuals of that time were always surprised him. They were often well-versed in literature, politics, and science, adequately athletic, and many were adept sketch artists. Perhaps it was a sign of the times, that most people specialized in one or two skills or subjects rather than attempting to master them all. Monte was okay living that way. He didn't much care for politics, until politics were threatening his livelihood, as politicians were wont to do to mutants. He didn't care too much for history either. Well, history pertaining to, like, boring stuff. Monte couldn't quite describe it, but he knew he didn't care about how bad a president Hoover apparently was, nor did he want to know anything about serfdom.
Though obviously dated, the manuscript lying before him possessed a charming air, with its sketches and archaic English. It had managed to hold his attention for some time, before he began to notice the a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. At first he was slightly alarmed, unaware that another individual had been sharing this space with him. What if he had been drooling or something? Or humming or doing something annoying? Play it cool, Monte. Just act like you totally knew they were there this whole time and strike up a conversation. That way, if you were drooling, you can make it look like you were...doing it on purpose?
Monte spun around to face his recently discovered companion, a friendly smile and greeting prepared. However, his fellow student appeared preoccupied, seemingly searching for something. This fellow, not much younger than himself by appearance, seemed puzzled. Perhaps Monte could assist him. But, before Monte could open his mouth, the oven door slammed shut and the auburn-haired mutant turned and addressed him. The suddenness of it stunned Monte slightly, producing nothing but a mildly dumbfounded (read: blank stare, mouth open) look upon his face. “Uhm...N-no! No, I don't!” he stammered, trying to recover from his awkward blankness, “I mean, I smell things I guess. What exactly do you think you smell?” Was this kid trying to say something? Was there flatulence in the air? Monte couldn't smell it, if there were, so he knew it wasn't him. Was this a preemptive strike, his classmate attempting to both establish his innocence and subtly lay the blame of this offense on Monte in one fell swoop? No, let us not jump to conclusions. Maybe he smells gas or something? Could the oven still be on? Monte sat attentively, awaiting his classmates reply.
Lucas Nilsson - June 5, 2011 01:07 AM (GMT)
Lucas looked at the boy's expression, it made the boy look stupid. Lucas fiddled with his pencil, letting it sort of twitch back and forth. "It smells like honey." Lucas stated, as though the smell was certainly there this time. He didn't think he smelt it, he knew the air smelled like it. There was no way he would have drawn a picture of bees, if it wasn't for that smell in the air. Only his subconscious could make him turn people into giant bees. Though it did look pretty damn awesome. "How do you not smell it?" Lucas asked, resting his elbows on the table.
Lucas' attention was switched for a moment, as he peered at the book the boy was looking at. "What are you reading?" Lucas asked. His eyes looked at the cover, the only part he could really see well. He wasn't interested in the subject, at all. He just saw a sketch, which alwas grabbed his attention. His eyes focused on the books title, oh how boring, plants. You would think growing up on a farm he would be interested in all sorts of things like that. He most definitely wasn't. He wasn't even that interested in the animals on the damn farm. He only studied that shit cause he was suppose to.
Nope, this kids interests lied in other things. Not technology, because you don't really have technologies on farms. He enjoyed history, it was never changing and steady. Psychology was intereseting as well, the whole nurture vs nature was one of his favorite topics. For a rather quiet boy, he enjoyed debating about such "smart" topics. Then of course he enjoyed art very much. He never did anything besides sketching, but he could list to you many famous artists and their works. Not that he ever really had the chance to do that. Who in hickville wants to know about famous artists? No one.
"My name is Lucas Nilsson, from the south. Sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier." Lucas apologized. How rude of him it was! He knew better than that. You should always be polite and introduce yourself. Oh! And ask the other for their introduction. Damn, only one day in the north and he was already losing his manners. "And whats your name? Where are you from?" It was only polite to ask where people came from as well. In the south it seemed somewhat important to know where people came from. He wasn't sure why, but you were always suppose to be proud of where you came from. It sounded silly to him. He certainly wasn't a whole lot proud of growing up on a ranch.
Hive - June 5, 2011 02:00 AM (GMT)
As soon as the mutant across from him spoke, he knew exactly why the scent of honey was in the air. Sometimes it was a source of embarrassment for Monte, if the people around him picked up his scent fairly strongly and began questioning its origin. But that was mostly in the company of regular folks. Amongst mutants, it wasn't too uncommon for an individual to carry a distinct odor, or other unique physical anomalies for people to wonder about. Judging was something mutants tended not to do to one another, at least, thats what Monte liked to believe because thats what made sense. So, as he prepared the rather lengthy lecture he usually had to give when explaining his mutation, his new acquaintances attention seemed to shift. Rather rudely at that, if Monte said so. Rather than progress the conversation like any individual would upon their first meeting, this younger child instead chose to butt into Monte's business. Not that it was private business, on the contrary, he would have been happy to to share with anyone who asked. But that was the operative word: “ask”. Inserting yourself like that was impolite, at least to Monte.
Frowning slightly, he watched the boy look over his book. Though it was rather...intrusive...Monte was willing to forgive his companion. After all, they had to live in the same building for the next however many years, he might as well overlook this minor flaw and at least try to be friendly. There wasn't anyone that immediately came to mind that Monte especially disliked, now that he thought of it. There had been confrontations, but that is typical of a house full of teens. To top it all off, many of these teens were displaced and rejected by society, so emotions, at times, ran high.
Before he could explain what it was he was reading, the young man spoke, apparently uninterested in what he found on the cover. This gave Monte a teeeeeny bit of smug satisfaction. An introduction was the perfect way to change Monte's opinion about him. His obviously southern drawl, garnished with just the right amount of both charm and sincerity. A typical southern gentleman, Monte thought immediately. Perhaps he had judged the young man too quickly. Judge. There was that word again. Maybe Monte was wrong. No, no, that was different. Judging someone for their manners was different than judging them for the hand genetics dealt them. Right?
“Name's Monte,” he responded with a polite smile, “Born and raised in Detroit, Michigan.” He almost went on to mention his father, a Detroit police officer, but held his tongue. That was more than Lucas likely cared to hear. Still, the pride Monte had for his father sometimes squeaked through his Freudian super-ego, escaping it conscious censorship. Sometimes, he just liked to mention it to remind himself, to give his father that admiration he deserved.
”What part of the south you from, Lucas? How long have you been here?” he asked, trying to seem polite in response.
Lucas Nilsson - June 6, 2011 02:54 AM (GMT)
"Nice to meet you Monte." Lucas gave a polite head nod. "Whats Detroit like? I haven't heard too much good about it to be honest. Lucas asked, hoping Lucas would change his opinion. He really hadn't heard a whole lot about it. What he did hear wasn't good though. He lived in a rather sheltered home, a judgemental home even. Where they liked to talk down about every other state. The east was all snobs, the west was all nuts, and the north were all just crazy.
"I'm from Texas. I grew up on a very large ranch." As the sentance came to an end, his southern drawl seemed to stretch. It was so hard to get rid of. He really wished his accent would leave. He wasn't too proud of where he was from like most people. Sure, it wasn't the worse. He did have a pretty good life. He just didn't feel completely right. Like he hadn't done a whole lot.
Lucas looked down to his sketchbook than back up, remembering why the conversation had started. "No though, sorry to switch topics. Do you smell the honey?" Lucas flipped his sketchbook up in the air so Monte could see what he had been sketching. "I mean I began drawing bees. I can't be crazy here." Lucas chuckled putting the rather odd picture done.
((DAMN! Its short. So sorry! I blame it on being sick.))
Hive - June 6, 2011 06:18 AM (GMT)
Monte chuckled lightly at Lucas' remark. He hadn't heard much good about Detroit either, and he was born there. Its pretty much a straight shot from there to Toronto, but other than that, there wasn't much. The city hadn't had anything to celebrate since Barry Sanders, and with the the auto industry collapsing around them, there weren't even any jobs to keep people preoccupied. That, and Detroit's current...crime issues...and Monte had a lot to think about at times. Back to his father, who could potentially be affected by both. But no, those thoughts were for another time. The matter at hand, Monte.
Lucas further introduced himself, and Monte nodded politely. Texas, huh? His first instinct was to say that he hadn't heard much good about Texas either, but that would have been rude. And not necessarily true. Most of Monte's knowledge about Texas were probably stereotypes, but still, he couldn't help but feel concerned about the state of Texas' natural resources the way they treated them. But alas, Texas was apparently a successful and livable state, more than Monte could say for a portion of his home state...
Actually, there was something Monte liked about Texas, now that he thought of it. The Africanized Killer Bee had been spotted in parts of Texas, and actual deaths had been attributed to them. The result of a Brazilian bee farmers attempt at creating a better honey bee, the Africanized bee, a mixture of african bees and european honey bees, had spread rapidly because of its extremely aggressive attitude across South America and has finally made its way into the United States. It probably wouldn't make it as far north as New York. Probably. Cold winters and whatnot. Monte's knowledge on the subject was admittedly limited, but it still fascinated him. He'd like to see them in action some time. Not in a sick “I wanna see bees kill somebody” kind of way, on the contrary, that idea terrified him. No, he actually wanted to see them in action with his own unit of special insects, to see how they went about battle and see how he might adjust the way he wielded his own unit more effectively. No better teacher than a killer bee.
Ah, and now to address the honey issue. “Actually, I don't. But thats because I'm used to it,” Monte began, “Its coming from me. And no, it wasn't anything I ate. See, I'm sort of a living beehive. Thats my mutation, at least. Instead of like, organs and blood and stuff, I have hundreds of Hymenoptera-esque insects crawling around inside of my body, keeping it in good repair and generally treating me as they would their own hive. But it gets weirder. I can kinda hear their thoughts. Well, not really hear their thoughts, but our minds work on the same wavelength, in sort of a hive-mind manner. I can command them around, make them do whatever I want them to.” Monte thought it best he leave out the part where, if they feel especially threatened, their end of the mental link tries to wrest the control from Monte and, instead, they end up controlling him in a way. That was a detail most people didn't like to hear, and, due to the fact that Monte didn't find himself in situations like that too often, it was almost a moot point. Almost.
Lucas Nilsson - June 10, 2011 05:51 PM (GMT)
Lucas didn't mean to stare so blankly, but he had been. The description of Monte's power was an odd one. Not one that he really thought he would ever run into. He had been stung by a bee once, and he couldn't imagine a whole bunch inside of him. The constant buzzing, it would make him scream surely. "Do they sting you?" Of course, that would be a boys first question. Lucas could already sort of answer that question though, not likely. He figured if they did sting him he would be like one big giant balloon. "Do you ever crave honey...or do you taste it all the time?" Lucas asked, the perplexed "thinking" look never leaving his face.
Lucas liked this kid, he didn't know why. Monte just had some normal composure of sort that Lucas liked to believe he had. The guy didn't seem like an asshole, compared to some of the older male students here. Yep, Lucas decided that if he had to spend time with anyone, it was going to be this kid.
Lucas sat back in his chair, not feeling the need to ask anymore questions about his powers at the moment. "So have you been here long?" Lucas asked, as he pointed the pencil in his hand at the cieling. He had been here for a total of two days, and just wasn't loving it. He had no idea what to do, besides hide from his sister and other crazies. His sketchbook was already beginning to look old from how much he had used it the last two days.
"I'm really not sure what to do here. I mean this place is huge, but I just don't know what there is to do." Lucas was about to begin to ramble, he was fully aware of this. Why couldn't rambling be his powers? At least he was somewhat gaining control over that. Though, it was probably because he was some what comfortable at the moment. Not on guard of judgement or anything of the sorts.