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Sorrel's face twists at the thought. "Grubs? Like larvas?" The centaur pulls the communicator from the hoodie's pocket. "Oh, I think he means food. We should go relax, yeah? Eh, the goggles I don't really need back, and if they break the first time, it's better than nothing."
Too shaken to leave the dorm room at first, Sorrel takes a very long, contemplative shower and drinks a few strawberry flavored calorie shakes. Getting dressed, Sorrel shrugs into a Carl Cosmos hoodie and matching blanket, and a pair of spandex gloves and knit legwarmers which were half-forgotten gifts. Sorrel doesn't usually spend so much time coordinating an outfit, but going out took some psyching up. Once the strength to venture out is built, Sorrel seeks out Solmira. "I've got a thing, yeah? Like you asked for? These are night vision goggles. They're supposed to be an attachments for my usual masks." The centaur shifts hoof placement uncomfortably. The tone being used is apologetic. "Since I've got this weird eye and uncontrollable hallucination powers, I could use some high-fi-psi-tech to help me figure out what's real. Does that... I even have trouble with our technology, so I really don't know if I'm asking for something reasonable..."
When Mirror says 'the Alien' Sorrel's mouth snaps shut with an audible click. Mirror would get nothing from Sorrel. She was paranoid, and nosy, and as much as the Green Guardian appreciated her help, this entire building sent the less-than-fine hair on the back of Sorrel's neck tingling. Sorrel waited until they left to approach Solmira. "Don't let her get to you-" the freshly-reskinned centaur starts in, strong and full of presumptive concern.
Quickardo swallows hard and complies stiffly.
Quickardo goes to KQ's room to dress down and goes to meet the others at the provided address.
Quickardo laughs, and it visibly releases tension. "Yeah, I had to stuff your sweats into your costume. It's getting pretty rank."
Seeing no evidence that the others were ready to blame Quentin's body snatcher for running is a visible relief. "Once you get the hang of it, you can outrun cars. -not on the highway, b-but still... I'm glad you didn't have any other problems." While he was relived Jae-Lin didn't suffer in that body, that relief was colored by envy. He hadn't gone through an examination. He hadn't seen the numbers. He had no reason to accept that body. Sorrel would have to, whatever that meant.
Quickardo swallows hard. "Figured Tox deserves better." They proceed to the common room.
Quentin's comm unit is rocketing across the city. It's not following roads. In the time it takes for Michael to recognize the area the device is traveling across, it comes to a stop. It's uptown, near a shopping district. Then it starts moving again. Kae-Lin finds Quickardo in his room. "Oh, good, you found me. Any news on getting things switched back around?" He laughs nervously.
"Claro." Quickardo whispers as he wraps up his sandwich. A footlong seemed like nothing when you literally had four stomachs. Hopefully he'd have time to finish it after he figured out how to call in the team. "Shouldn't have ditched your com... This was supposed to be the obvious place to look, where is everyone?"
Quickardo sets out for TITAN to see if Quicky has a spare comm in his dorm room.
@Turnabout:There is no response from Kid Quickman's communicator. It takes a second for Quickardo to catch up. "The acid spitter and Mr. Sword-splosion? We just got done with them." He wipes his lips with his thumb and folds the wrapper over the remainder of his sandwich. "-or is this more of an open call to all Z-list lowlifes? -they had hostages. I don't mind moving along, but I'd rather know where I can go to get this mess over with." Zack, this... one... Who is Quicky hanging with if he's getting the inside scoop on villain activity? They weren't a TITAN student, or at least not one in the dorms. Sorrel would have recognized anyone who stuck around campus.
Quickardo actually spots the colorful visitor as soon as they're inside. He watches them, silently judging, innocently asking himself all the wrong questions. When they turn his way, he catches himself, and busies himself with his food. When they speak, it's all Quickardo can do to keep from literally jumping through his skin. "W- hey! It's ah, a meatball with black olives and jalapeno." He has another small spike of anxiety considering running into any of Quentin's family. He still wasn't sure how safe it was to be open about the team's situation. "I don't know, maybe I want to be found? Maybe I feel guilty? Maybe I want to taunt her? I don't know. It's been a heavy few days." So many words, and none of them were 'what are you?' So far, so good.
It doesn't take long after enjoying the first half of his much-sought bounty for Quickardo to start feeling guilty. He'd run out on his friends in the middle of an operation. Sure, he had reasons, but now he wasn't sure if he hadn't left too soon. He checks his pockets again (Kid Quickman's suit hastily pulled over the sweatpants he'd been wearing since the night before) but he was reminded that they were empty now. He couldn't go back yet. He wasn't feeling that guilty. He was just concerned and distracted.
Quickardo sits back and takes in the ambiance. This is it. This is all he'd allow himself. The others would catch on eventually, but for his own sanity, he has to set that aside and try to enjoy himself. Just a few hours to himself. A few more hours of himself.
Quickardo leads the hostages out of the area. "So, ah, you folks run or hide. You should be at a safe distance from here. I've got to, ah, get back in there." If he gets a nod from one or more of the hostages, he'll run off down an alleyway. He's not going 'back in there'.
Quickardo checks the hostages, taken aback at first when they pushed toward him. He was used to folks keeping their distance, and he almost panicked over the possibility of one of them touching his skin. Keep it up... Ah Turnabout. You're doing great! I've got the hostages, I'll be out in a moment. Anyone still have eyes on sword-splosion! Quickardo winks at the girl that laughs, but something deep won't let him enjoy the roll he's on. Once this was over, he's be Sorrel again... Looking around, he tries to find a route out...
Once he's landed out of sight, Quickardo tries to apply what little he's learned about Kid Quickman's powers. He does this by sinking through the floor, leaving his fingers solid enough to crawl across the ground like he's edging across a ledge.
He moves from bush to swing set, heart racing as he tries to get close to the hostages without Acerbic noticing. Over his comm device, he keeps his team updated. Keep him distracted, uh, Sol. I'll have the hostages in a minute.
Quickardo pulls the repackaged suit out of the delivery box by the door, tears open the plastic and drops it beside Sorrel. @all: On my way.
I'm not sure we've got a choice, yeah? Our Sorrel is passed out. I can maybe get the suit on, but I don't think I could get out there and diffuse the situation.
The phrase "wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy" seemed appropriate, if a bit of an exaggeration. Never mind stealing Quentin's body for an ill-advised joyride. No one deserved... Sighing, Quickardo raises his hand, showing the blinking communicator so the teacher knows it's cape business. "Did you not find my room? The suit should be repaired by now. No? Where are you now? Can you get somewhere familiar?" If there aren't any obstacles, Quickardo will lead his teammate to his room. "[B]Didn't have such a great night, did we? I see you worked out walking. Have you been eating?[b]" It was surreal, looking up at the centaur. It set the fine hairs at the back of his neck on edge. He couldn't help but adjust the blanket as they walked.
@Turnabout(Lois): I don't mean to hold Quickie's body hostage or nothing, but could you stall the others for a bit? @Turnabout(Lois): It would mean a lot. At least keep them from hunting me down. An indicator shows that KQ is typing for several minutes. @Turnabout(Lois): I need some time.
Quickardo decides he's better off not commenting. He's probably done enough damage as it is. Best-case scenario, he'd set himself up for a very awkward conversation later today. Fortunately, his communicator buzzes, so he has an excuse to turn away to check it under the desk. Solmira had found help. That was good news, right? Things could go back to... The overwhelming desire to flee starts Quentin's heart racing. He was in a normal body for once. An attractive one, if he hadn't misread Hyla's body language. Staying meant returning to... Sorrel... and a restrictive diet, and a restrictive daily regimen, and the constant fear that today would be his last day in the sun. He'd wasted so much of this opportunity doing homework. Couldn't it wait until after lunch period, at least? Quickardo sits, staring at his communicator.
“Co-n yo!” Quickardo has to literally bite back the exclamation as he slaps the desk to catch himself. Smooth, pendejo, Quickie is smooth! If he don’t get them all caught, he’d make Quentin look like he’s on drugs. Quickie wasn’t like this. He’s so much more positive and laid back. Quickardo laughs, looking around the class sheepishly as he crosses his legs under the desk. When the current presenter continues, he picks up where he left off. “Not like he saidasmuch, but I think he has a thing for you. He just doesn’t want to... risk grossing you out with his, ah, personal baggage.” This was too much. Trying to act like Quentin, speak like Quentin, speak as if he weren’t talking about himself, keep from saying anything Hyla might not want to hear, suppressing invasive thoughts about Qunentin and Hyla making out- this was nuts. “It’s high school, though. He has a right to, ah, crush on whomever he wants.” He might be getting a little too defensive there. “Don’t sweat it. He’s sweet, but he’s used to rejection. I think telling him you’re not interested is probably for the best... I don’t think he would hold it against you.” It was just a thought right? He could deal with it if she didn’t see Sorrel that way. It shouldn’t affect their friendship. High school didn’t owe him sloppy makeouts behind the bleachers. What right did he have pursuing Hyla because of her changes. Did he even know her like that? Quickardo was ready to sink through the floor waiting for Hyla’s response.
"I'm glad you're okay. It was a tight scrape." Quickardo gives his best nonchalant laugh. "I hope that didn't... lower your opinion of the guy. Dunno how much they told you... but I have it on good authority that there was some mind control, ah, involved." He had to say something. He knew she liked him, she should at least be on the same page. Surely there was a suave way to nudge her that way. "I don't know how much he'd like me to say, but I do know he, ah, likes spending time with you. He only went out last night knowing you would be there." That was... alarmingly true. Something he only realized as he said it.
Quickardo slumps back into his seat, letting his notecards drop onto the desk. Sorrel always thought he found Hyla attractive. That was a thing he told himself whenever his thoughts wandered in that direction. It may be no more than a theorized prospect of intimacy, given the toxicity of his skin, and the mucus covering hers, but he's never had the means or the courage to sort those feelings out. The doe kept him from experiencing that kind of attraction on anything more than a philosophical level (for most of the year). Now, surprise as well as fatigue had him revisiting those thoughts critically while he struggled to navigate the labyrinthine obstacles of identity theft. "Oh, hi Hy- ah, hi. The report?" He always sucked so bad at lying. He was going to be the one to get them all in trouble, again... Without a ready alternative, Quickardo opts for as near to the truth as he could manage. "It's just Sorrel, you know? Reading this book, and going through team building with him, I really feel for the guy, yeah?" He winces at the slip in affectation. "He's always left out when we go out for subs. -I made one for him yesterday, out of fake meat from the fancy health food store. It was amazing- for him- I'm sure. I just wish the rest of the day had gone better for him. He gets a lot of that: Isolation." Hyla had been with Sorrel while he ate that sub, but at the time he had been focused on the sandwich. He was always eating anyway, it's not like she would have noticed. Too late, Quickardo realizes he's opened a conversation about himself with someone who doesn't realize he's listening. His pulse races and he's suddenly making intense eye contact. The phrase "deer in the headlights" would be apropos, if a bit on the nose.
Quickardo makes his way to the podium and finds his first card. He looks around the room at all the unfamiliar faces, licks his lips, then begins with: “First of all, Kafka never says Gregor turns into a roach. The translators made that assumption based on other context, but literally, Gregor becomes an ungeheures Ungeziefer, or a giant vermin. Kafka writes as if there is some magic at work, but truely, Gregor only needed to become a burden. Something that could happen to anyone. After a car accident, losing their job, becoming ill, or expressing an inconvenient neoability. Because he is suddenly a burden, Gregor Samsa, the protagonist in Frans Kafka’s Metamorphosis, experiences isolation of the body, mind, and character. Because of this isolation, he ends his own life. Obviously, Gregor was physically isolated. In the first part, he’s locked in his room, trying really hard to get out of bed and open the door. In the second part, the door is locked from the outside. This change that overcome him isolates him from his family and makes simple tasks impossible. His work, the work he does to support his family, is impossible. Gregor identified himself by his ability, and the services he provided, and with those things gone, he began to isolate himself mentally. What do I mean by isolation of the mind? The mind requires stimulation. In his cramped apartment, there was very little for Gregory to do but crawl on the walls, listen to his family, eat, and sleep. Beyond his transformation, beyond his injuries, there is a change in how Gregory speaks to us between part one and part two. With nothing to do, and no one to speak to, he stops thinking critically, and begins to watch the world from a distance. He is helpless, and hopeless, and he is losing himself in the changes. Gregor’s family moves on without him. His father goes back to work, after years of dependency. His sister learns to play beautifully without his promised tuition. Everything Gregor once defined himself with, everything around him which he used to motivate himself was taken from him. There is a part about milk which I think does not get much attention. The picture, people talk about. That was his connection to beauty, to humanity... but Gregor used to love milk. That wasn’t to help his parents, or his sister, or to seek the approval of his boss, or to measure up to his peers. Gregor, himself, liked milk, and this monster... this thing he’s become… eats garbage.” Sorrel stops to catch his breath and grind the heel of his hand in his eye. “Gregor was isolated from everything that made him Gregor, and he had nothing to replace that with. No family, no challenge, and nothing to remember why to move forward. The only thing he could do was let his family move on.” Looking down to flip his notecard, Quickardo finds he's run out of notes, and looks up from the podium to look at the teacher.
Hijole! @Solmira: So what do I need to do to help fix us.
Alone, Quickardo is able to collect his thoughts and focus on how to deal with... numerous issues and priorities. He would spend another day trying to figure out why Quentin's body would do... that. He wasn't going to get any sleep, so he might as well try to pry the aliens and isometrics out of that book. He remembered it being about how helping too much leads to toxic dependencies, a lesson supers really should learn. Why the lesson plan would be so different for AP students was beyond him. He hoped desperately that the few hours before class would be enough for Turnabout to sort them out. Tox would ace ESL, and have no problem shadowing Wellspring for a few hours. Tox could try suiting up if he wanted, but Sorrel'd had to go to class without before, and maybe he needed to feel that once. Quickardo, on the other hand, would have to maintain Quicky's gold standard under the watchful eyes of an entire family. Still upset, he sends Quentin another quick text.
When he gets out sight, Quickardo pulls the comms device out of Quentin's pants. Re: Metamorphosis Roach guy? We are reading it in our class, but I do not think we covered the same topics. Do you have a report written, or were you going to wing it? Carefully, Quickardo checks Quentin's pockets for a dorm key, then remembers he's got someone depending on him for guidance. To: Sorrel Room key is in my hoodie pocket, room 216 in sigma wing. Schedule is on the back of the door. Don't touch my closet.
When Quickardo's pants start vibrating, he jolts upright like a cat getting sprayed with water. In his haste, he passes through the table, tumbles forward, and catches himself on a chair, which he swiftly positions in front of himself. "Ay- uh... am ing... to bed." He forces a grimace, then turns away from those still in the common room and walks, stiffly, to the door, doing his best to face away from everyone while he does so.
Quickardo bites his tongue and waits for the others to clear the room...
Quickardo scoots his chair further under the table and leans forward onto one elbow, presenting his best estimation of an innocent smile. He forces himself to stay focused on Ms. Mulvaney without staring too hard. "Uh, Dad say anything about us? We're all a little spooked, given the whole disciplinary tribunal thing, and more trouble isn't going to make them feel any better." He laughs nervously. Despite his better judgement, his mouth keeps dumping out words. "I guess I'm saying please don't write us up for this. We're only here to support Sol and Sorrel. They've had it rough today, and were having trouble sleeping. We'll make sure to clean up before we tuck in. Promise." Searching her eyes, Quickardo looks for anything to divert her focus.
Well, something is coming, and the worst-case for Sorrel is getting caught "acting wrong". My favorite bit (beyond accidentally calling other guys boys) is that Sorrel has no advice for Tox on how to be him correctly.
Quickardo perks up and turns toward the doors. It may be paranoia, or it may be... "Con yo- I think someone's coming. We're in a common space- in public. If we don't want to call attention to ourselves, we have to act natural. Solmira, boys don't do that, certainly not Turnabout. Boys project frustration outward. Square shoulders, clenched fists, feet on the floor. Turnabout. Solmira would never stand like that- I know you probably can't float like she does, so sit, and cross your legs- No, all the way. If you need something to do with your hands, play with your hair. If you have to walk, knees in, hips rolling. Tox... Uhm... Eat. You're going to get hungry later if you don't eat. Quicky, eyes down. Act like nobody likes you, and you just don't want anyone to notice you. -and don't smile, your simultaneously not good enough and too good for everyone. If anyone asks, Turnabout--that's you Sol--is putting us through a team-building exercise, and we can't go do anything else today. If you get separated, don't panic. We'll meet back up... ah, Turna- Solmira" He gives Solabout a pointed look. "Help me out, where do we meet up if we get separated?"
Quickardo turns to Turnmira, small whirlwinds spinning off his ears. He seems calm, as usual, but distracted, and a little red in the face. "Instinct does seem to help- for the walking. Tox and I won't win any races, but I do think we can keep our balance now. Just relax and try not to think about it too much. The body knows better how to do the simple stuff, or you'd probably have given Turnabout a heart attack by now." He finds a chair and drops down into it, crossing his legs. He looks around at the others one at a time, holding the back of the chair under his arm for stability, and trying not to move his head too fast again. "Just a little power mishap. Anyone have somewhere to be anytime soon? Tox, you, ah, working? You should have, ah..." Quickardo has to glance around the room one more time to remember who's in Tox's body, "Quicky call you out, just in case."
Quickardo halts, looking back down at his legs again. "Phase means... go through walls, yeah? How do you not fall through the ground?" His gaze moves up his torso to his arms.
Sorrel stumbles forward, moving from table to table around the room. "Hey, hey, Tox, miran- look right here. Don't worry about anyone else, yeah? You're out of my suit and have a lot of exposed skin, so you gotta stay calm, and try not to touch anyone. It's gonna be okay. If Turnabout and Solmira have switched, then I'm sure one of them can use their powers and put us back, yeah? Right now, just chill."
"Ah, Sorrel!" Kid Quickman's hand shoots up from behind a chair, as he sheepishly pulls himself up the furniture. As he gains his feet he watches them, uncertainly. His knees shake and he's swaying as if dizzy, but he keeps his hand up.
Sorrel?'s arms shoot out and a very shocked Kid Quickman tumbles backwards over a chair.
Sorrel's portrait is under Female and Fey.
It would be Sorrel's responsibility to correctly use Solmira's alien body to fix us back, right? How well do you see that going?
Sorrel's mind in.... Turnabout - a chance to just be normal. Tox- almost like being back home? Kid Quickman - Incredibly awkward for reasons that won't be obvious. Solmira - we're all screwed.
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