Log dump.
<> Great Hall - Lv1
Marbled floors of cool gray and pale whites ice the floor in sectioned tiles, hidden partially by threaded golds and woven greens that quickly blend in to other colors of large Persian rug. Spacious, no doubt about this, my friends, with panels of metal guarded the elevator doors whilst brass button-plate gleams with the pale orange glow of the elevator buttons. Not unlike a school's lobby with lofty ceiling soaring up eggshell plastered ceiling with golden chandelier curling like harden cobwebs with crystalline bulbs used to illuminate the vast spacious room.
Despite the elevator, stairs are seen just beyond the first corridor, leading up and clandestine by the cherry-wood paneled walls that glide fluidly in to other halls and stairs and various offices. A few chairs and even some tables with odd glass lamps light this bright Great Hall, supporting many students, people, and assortment of other things not mentioned. Light is able to stream in through the many jewel-cut windows set in gothic-large double doors and flanking door either side and above with more glass motifs.
[Exits : [H]allway, [R]ecreation [R]oom, [Li]brary, [T]he [E]levator, and [M]ain [E]ntrance ]
[Players : Rogue ]
Lazy summer days are the best for simply lazing about. Of course, not all people have such freedoms, or at least some don't choose to. Rogue pads along the upper landing, turning to wind herself down the staircase by the corridor. Her head is up, leaning over the railing as she seems to be searching for something. Black fingerless gloves slide down the banister as she goes, her jacket puffing with each step.
In just opposite a direction, ambling toward the stairway, Jareth makes his leisurely way. Movement draws his notice upward to offer Rogue a wave. "Ahoy, me hearty."
Rogue grips at the wooden railing as she's forced to hop to a stop on the last step. "Jareth! There you are." She says with a sigh of relief. "Ah swear, been runnin' mahself ragged tryin' to find you."
Leisure smoothly shifts to mild befuddlement, and Jareth blinks as he in turn comes to a stop. "Me? Why?" One brow hoists slowly, and suspicion continues the chain of successive emotion. "If this has anything to do with the noodle incident, only circumstantial evidence can indicate me."
"Ah wanted to--" Rogue pauses suddenly, mouth still open as she tries sort what he's said. "What? No." She says, still sounding as confused as her face looks. "You gotta minute?" Rogue says after a moment and motions him off to the side of the stairs.
A nod provides answer, and Jareth follows the beckon away. Something more serious has settled into place, allowing his expression to become the same. He directs a mildly concerned brow furrowing toward perhaps the back of her head as he follows, finally to stop where she does, look still in place. "Something the matter?"
Rogue glances left and right, behind, and over the shoulder of Jareth. Besides a few people scampering outdoors they're mostly alone and she seems comfortable enough to talk in a low whisper. "Ah was wonderin'... have you ever read the Harry Potter books?"
Only more confusion seeps into play during Rogue's furtive glances, and Jareth's regard of her remains puzzled. For a moment, he follows the glance and examines the surrounding hall, finally returning his attention to her. It is no more enlightened an attention than before. "I borrowed a couple of them to read. Why?"
"Well, you do that thing, right? The talk to computers thing. Ah was wondering how long it would take for you to make a program for the Danger Room?" Her hands slip down into her pockets, another fugitive glance being tossed around.
One might almost hear the click of fragmented comprehension reassembling. Jareth's mouth creeps open to form a silent 'ah,' and he nods. "Now I see where you're going. You want something related to our scar-headed friend." His lips shift sideways, thoughtful. "Well, what sort of program are you thinking?"
"/Our/? Ah don't like Harry Potter!" Rogue insists with hands held up almost too defensively. "Well, somethin' /fun/. Like, maybe you could program the castle so someone could walk through it and interact with the characters from the books? Maybe even have a Quidditch match to play in?" She pauses and grunts. "Not that Ah know what the hell Quidditch is..."
Very dry is the look that Jareth turns on Rogue, though it dissolves quickly into a somewhat less dry smile. "I think I could set something up. No shortage of people around here who would enjoy it, I'm sure." The smile flickers again, ever so subtle a needle. "I just hope no one is prone to getting airsick."
Rogue's eyes round up slightly. "No! No," she starts, inching closer to him and lowering her voice even more. "It's just, well. This has to be special. An' secret, all righ'? Ah want this to be for the person who it's made for an' hers alone." Rogue takes a deep breath. "If she wants to share, she can, but it's gotta be hers. Ah can pay you back. An' bake yah cookies on top of it."
A brow lifts again, and Jareth's attention turns again questioning. "I take it you're putting a fair amount of effort into this. What's this about, that it's so important and secretive?"
Rogue crosses her arms, hands cupping up around her elbows as she sheds her gaze around him. "Nothin'. Ah just... gotta do this. Do /somethin'/. She'll like this an' there ain't nothin' more that Ah want than to see this person happy." Brown eyes flick back up to his. "So you'll do it?"
One might almost hear the crack of reassembled comprehension fragmenting. Jareth's expression remains all but unchanged. "Well, I can, yes. I have to admit being a bit puzzled, but... okay." No change occurs still. "Do you need this by any particular point?"
Rogue breaths out with a smile. "Thanks, Jareth. Ah know Ah'm not bein' clear, but it's /really/ important to keep it under wraps. An' no, Ah don't need it by any time. Would like is soonish. By the end o' the summer. But only if that's doable for yah." Her fingers drum on her elbows and she can't stop grinning at the moment. "This means ah'lot, really. Thank yah."
Jareth raises one finger to wag at Rogue, exaggeratedly stern. "But you'll have to tell me at some point. I won't have my tombstone reading 'Suspense really *was* killing him.'" An equally exaggerated Look falls on her before he relents. "I'll get started before long."
Rogue leans back slightly, trying to look as innocent as she can. "It ain't for no psycho path, Ah promise!" She says hastily, shaking her head. "Just for someone who really needs someplace to escape the real world." Rogue slips around the banister and takes a step up with another smile at Jareth. "Thanks, sugah. Lemme know how it's comin' along an' tell me if you need any help testin' it out!" She turns and bounces up the stairs, somewhat lighter in her steps now.
Rogue seeks a mysterious favor.
<> Jareth's Room - Lv3(#3514RC)
There exists an interesting mix of order and chaos throughout Jareth's room. A large, Middle Eastern-style throw rug with elaborate patterning covers a good part of the standard unicolor carpet underneath. Along one wall, an ornate wood bookcase is neatly arrayed with several shelves of novels and various scientific texts.
Near the bookcase, against the adjoining wall, is a desk filled with a pile or two of papers, many with esoteric scribblings, along with a number of various small electronic parts. There often seems to be something under construction on the desk, or occasionally in a small pile along the nearby floor. At each end of the desk's back shelf is a scale model of an SR-71 Blackbird, facing out towards the room. On the far side of the desk from the bookcase is a small entertainment center, containing a TV, DVD player, and a game system or two. Shelves in the cabinet contain a number of movies and games.
The walls of the room are laid out with several posters, of Einstein, a lightning storm, and various nature scenes. Posters of science seem to be gathered around the desk, while nature surrounds the bed. Also along the walls are painted a number of vines, moving along the walls in smoothly twining randomness. Nothing visibly adorns the ceiling, but when the lights are off and the room is dark, a series of constellations can be seen, painted into their accurate arrangements and positions.
[Exits : [O]ut ]
[Players : Alyssa ]
Tap. Taptaptap. Alyssa fidgets with her braids with one hand -- the one that connected with Blindspot's nose -- while she knocks on the door to Jareth's room with the other. She's leaning against the doorfame while she does it, barefoot and in her pajamas.
Muffled from behind the door is the sound of a sink turned on and soon off again. Footsteps shuffle across the floor, and the door swings open several moments later. Jareth earns no appointment with GQ. Likewise barefoot, the only thing adorning him is a pair of shorts, unless encompassing in the count the toothbrush dangling from his mouth.
Aly blinks once, twice -- and then laughs. "How utterly stunning." She stops fiddling with her hair, holding her hand out toward him, instead. "I ran into Blindspot, today. She sort of had a run-in with my fist." She curls her fingers slightly, to show him slightly bruised knuckles.
Before providing any reply, Jareth adjusts the toothbrush, relegated to the side of his mouth and thus ineffective against speech. Any reply still comes slightly imprecise nonetheless. "Stunning? I'm a Rembrandt now?" Head and attention alike droop to the offered hand, and his brows slowly draw down. "Your fist was there and she managed to walk into it?"
Alyssa drops her hand, running her thumb across the knuckles as she shakes her head. "Well, no, not /quite/. More like she stood up and I suckerpunched her in the face." She squints up at him, and manages to look slightly sheepish. "It felt ... really good, though."
Jareth is content simply to regard Alyssa - in slightly odd fashion - for several moments. "I would imagine it did. Given your lack of any matching marks, I'm going to assume she didn't return the favor." He shuffles back to the bathroom to deposit the toothbrush next to the sink, then ambles to the bed where he tumbles down on his back. One hand waves Alyssa inside somewhere in the midst of these two trips. "So I take it this was the highlight of the day?"
Alyssa follows, though not hard on Jareth's heels. She sort of drifts in through the doorway, padding after him on silent feet. "No, she was sort of busy vowing revenge and trying to get her nose to stop bleeding." She eyes her former teacher, then reaches out to shove at his side. "Scoot, damn you." She waits for him to comply, hands on her hips. "You know, I think I may've broken it. I've never /broken/ anyone's /nose/ before."
Jareth pushes up on his feet, hoisting his hips to crabwalk sideways, followed in more orthodox fashion by a shift of his upper body. "Well, I wouldn't suggest making it a habit, especially with former teachers." His look toward her is, for a moment, suspicious, in some mostly-joking fashion.
Alyssa settles in beside him, sitting up against the head of the bed with her knees drawn up against her chest. "Breaking noses, or making them make room for me in their beds?" Aly asks with a wrinkle of her nose.
Jareth draws up a knee to wobble absently back and forth. "I would definitely avoid making a habit of breaking noses, and as for the rest, that depends on number and proximity of any jealous boyfriends." For sake of lazy comfort, his eyes drift shut. The leg continues oscillating.
"Didn't plan on breaking any more, really," Aly admits slowly, then laughs outright. "Well, considering Jono and I aren't actually /dating/, well. I think we're fairly safe, there." She rolls her eyes, and reaches out to shove at Jareth's knee. "Not that there's anything /to/ be jealous of, anyway."
One hand lazily, unhurriedly lifts to offer a thumbs up. "No emulating Rambo or Batman." Jareth's hand swings, in the absence of visual cues, in search of the shoving hand. "Except you asking to climb into bed, maybe." A flicker of smirk shifts his mouth while the hand moves, still without direction of sight, to seek the source of the shove and poke accordingly.
The advantage is to Alyssa, as she still has her eyes open -- her hand moves whenever his gets close to it, and she laughs quietly whenever she manages a dodge. She still prods at the knee, though. "What's there to be jealous of, in that, though? It's not like we're /doing/ anything in the bed." Her last comment is clearly teasing, where another might say it with a hint of challenge.
Patience of laziness spawns a degree of persistence, and so Jareth continues to quest this way and that for a successful contact. Eventually, his tactics shift slightly, and he moves to seek out a poke delivered to her instead. All the while, he remains with eyes closed, comfortable in the dark of unsight. He heaves a put-upon sigh, filled with theatrics. "I suppose many teenagers would still have lewd commentary to say about it." Finally, one eye cracks open long enough to cast a look, spurred by this final point she makes.
Alyssa catches the look, and returns it with one of her own -- this time, there /is/ challenge implied: wanna make something of it? She makes a small sort of noise as he changes tactics, and bats ineffectually at his hand.
For a moment or two, Jareth's hand ceases while the one eye continues to fix on her, oddly, quizzical, examinate. Soon enough, he deigns to open both eyes again and continues the attempted prodding.
While Jareth's hand is still, so is Alyssa's -- but once he goes back to attempting to prod at her, her hands move again, as well. One for defense, to block his 'attacks,' the other for offense: to jab at knee, at hip, at ribs in an unpredictable pattern.
Jareth is thus forced to adopt much the same method, hands divided between strike and fend away. His mouth twitches into lingering amusement, spreading his own assault here and there. Eventually, laziness-spawned lack of precision allowing Alyssa something of the upper hand, he curls to a protective ball with a theatrically petulant whine. "Naaaah."
Alyssa aims a final shove at his shoulder once he's curled up, exaggeratedly rolling her eyes. "Wuss," she challenges, then wraps her arms back around her knees.
Across the shelter of the raised knees, Jareth casts a sham of a glare toward Alyssa. "Poking tickles." One arm uncurls after a few moments more, tipping the ball that he is slowly sideways as he reaches for her side to make another attempt.
"/Please/," Alyssa derides. "/Tickling/ tickles." Oddly, though, she doesn't bat away at his hand this time, instead blinking when it makes contact with skin. /Huh/. How odd. She frowns, then reaches over to shove at him again, but without enough real force to move him.
Jareth supplies answer to this simply by sticking out his tongue. "Would you like some hairs to split on that logic?" The initial success meets with a pause of mild surprise, and then the poking resumes for a small number of repetitions. Gradually, his legs uncurl, sensing safety. The hand falls away, only to advance on her back. His twitch of smile is perhaps helpless. "Tickling like that?"
The laugh is breathy, /breathless/ as if it's caught in her throat, and for a moment Alyssa doesn't know if she's squirming /into/ the tickling, or away from it. "Yeah," she manages between quiet bursts of laughter, "like that."
Another tug of smile drives Jareth's expression. Just for a beat, examining the response, his movement stops. Her affirmation serves as both that and encouragement, and so the movement quickly resumes, fingers scampering along her spine.
Alyssa laughs again, and this time it's a dangerously frustrated sound. She squirms away this time, grabbing for his hand and pressing his fingers between her own. "/Jareth/," she mutters, though there's still laughter in her voice, "if I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting with me." She curls one hand up, so she can curl his hand around it, and keep her other one cupped around them both. Her nose wrinkles. "Are you?"
No resistance is there as Jareth's hand is drawn away. He, in turn, lies as is on his back, head tilted up to observe. His eyes flick to the twined hands and back, and his answer, when it comes, is flat, comprised of dry mirth. "I thought I was tickling you."
Alyssa snorts at his answer, though she doesn't relinquish the captured hands. "Good, 'cause I dunno what I'd do if you were." It's not an admission of anything, other than mild confusion. "I should probably head to bed, though. S'late."
Jareth's stillness remains, and he makes no attempt to retrieve anything captured. "And I'm supposed to know what to do with teenagers in tanktops hopping onto my bed?" The smile that comes is just as dry as any preceding comment, and humor slightly darkened flickers through his eyes. Both are interrupted by a yawn. "Me, too." He loosens a hand, finally, to reach for a light poke to her stomach. "Go get some sleep, kiddo."
Something uncoils, and Alyssa relaxes almost imperceptibly as he pokes her stomach. "Especially when they're not students anymore, huh?" she teases, then releases his hand and rolls over slightly, wrapping him up in a hug. "Goodnight, Jareth," is muffled into his shoulder, and then she rolls back away and starts to right herself.
More darkened humor flashes through, and Jareth claps both hands to his cheeks. "Oh, what*ever* will the tabloids say?" An arm shifts from face to her, enfolding her for an answering squeeze of embrace. He raises as she does, rolling to his feet to follow. While opening the door, he reaches up to scratch briefly at her head. "Night, you."
Alyssa swats at the hand as it musses her hair, then slips out the door and heads down the hall. About halfway down, she doesn't turn -- but does raise a hand over her head to wiggle her fingers at him in a 'goodbye' gesture.
Alyssa visits late one night. Alyssa and Jareth are goofy.