(2016-11-03) Meeting Dianli
Meeting Dianli
Summary: Flutes are played, vases are smashed…..
Date: 2016-11-03
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://coralsprings.wikidot.com/logtitle)
NPCs: Players go below, other chars that deserve mention can be listed here
Scene Runner: Who ran this scene, NA if no-one or mutual

Arts Room Coral Springs
Thu Nov 03, 2016 — Thu Nov 03 21:24:03 2016

More to come, multi-media abound. From a corner of stone blocks for printing and racks for paintings or paper art, to light tables, and cutting tables.

This evening is quiet, despite the giant mission going on above their heads. Besa is in the Arts room, the egyptian teen has changed into a goth tee and jeans, his hands and arms covered with wet clay from the vase he's working on. It's on a kick wheel, not electric. The scent of clay and dirt mixes in there air, no sounds but that creepy wet sticky noise from throwing clay.

Ever meet one of those girls that seems attractive by any usual measure but somehow isn't? Dianli is one such girl. By any standard her Chinese (Hakka, to be specific) form should be pleasing to the eye. The broad moon-faced cheeks, the short, black hair that would on other girls be called "pixieish", the slim (verging on skinny) form—all of these would in ordinary circumstances be quite attractive. Eye-arresting, even.

But they're not.

Perhaps it's the brooding, haunted look in the deep black pools that are her eyes. Eyes ringed by the dark patches of too many sleepless nights. Perhaps it's the fact that her "pixieish" hair stands straight up and out at times, seemingly moving of its own volition. Maybe it's even the dejected, slumped posture or the laughably unfashionable clothes. Whatever it is, it's making a girl who would not necessarily be the centre of attention, but at least someone who turns a head or two here and there into a wallflower that eyes pass over or through.

The unfashionable clothing Dianli wears today is a pair of leather pants too loose for her (as if she misses the point of them!), a plain white tee two sizes too large, and a ratty jean jacket that just doesn't belong with the rest. (The huge, hand-embroidered, Chinese character on the back is a bit eye-catching though.) The plain as dirt generic schoolbag slung over one shoulder doesn't help, and neither do the department store brand sneakers that scuff the ground under her when she walks.

Dianli slinks into the room, having heard the sounds of occupation earlier and actually stood poised undecided in the doorway for a bit before choosing to enter rather than walk away. Her eyes take in the facilities, slumping dejectedly after surveying it for a bit. She steps in a bit more to get a better view, however, of the clay working, trying not to interfere.

Depending on how observant she is, Besa has two fairly fresh scars on the inside if his left forearm. About 3 inches long each. His perfect hair (no one has hair that looks that good!) sways with the motion of his kicks and he has a small smear of clay on his jawline. The sounds of someone entering the room have his foot slow and he scans the room for whoever it is. "Hello?" He has some kind of accent, but it's hard to say from where with just one word.

Dianli's accent is also obvious. "Hello." That's it. A simple hello. Followed by a brief awkward silence. "That's pretty cool." More silence verging on autism. "I was looking for a practice booth, but I guess this is the wrong room."
She hazards anothe couple of steps closer. "I'm Zhang Dianli. Call me Dianne."

Besa's dark eyes land on Dianne and he evaluates something before smiling softy, "Thank you. If I can get it right it will be a gift." His head tilts, blinking, "Practice booth? For what?" The intro gets a smile, "Hello Dianna. I am Besa Ina-Herit."

Dianli overlooks the error in her name with a ghost of a smile. "I want to practice my flute, but … well, the dorm rooms echo so and I've been asked to look for somewhere else to go. I may have to go outside, though." She looks around at the arts room. "I'll have to remember this place for when I'm practicing calligraphy and painting, though. It seems nicely equipped."
Another step forward hazarded. Dianli's hackles rise. Quite literally. As does some of her hair. "Gifts that you make yourself are always the best. Even if they're not necessarily the best. Know what I mean?"

Besa motions a clay covered hand, "No…please. I would feel honored if you would practice here." His accent is very much Egyptian. "Calligraphy is nice." He watches her come in more, his foot starting to kick at the base of the table he's using slowly. "I suppose i do. Although I hope this will be decent enough." There's a small tray of what looks like clay tokens drying near him.

"Are you sure it won't bother you?" Dianli says, an honest, if small, smile appearing on her face. "I mean, you probably need to concentrate to make … uh…" Her words trail off as she glances curiously at the tokens. "… those."
Stepping to one side, out of the way of any other potential visitors, she unslings her school bag and pulls out from it a black, soft-sided case, from which itself she pulls a few pieces of bamboo (http://imgur.com/cT0PAur). These she deftly assembles into a long single tube, a red knotted tassel hanging from it at one end.
"Xiao," she says, as if that explains anything. She sits cross-legged on the floor, back ramrod straight, and puts the end of the flute up to her mouth, shaping her mouth as if she were trying to kiss the flute. She gently blows and pulls a haunting, deep note out of it, one that quickly transforms into a rapidly ascending and descending set of notes as she puts her fingers through a warm-up exercise.

There's some kind of runes on them. Besa laughs softly, "They are for my magic." Her flute construction is watched with interest. The sound seems to relax him, the haunting note like a dream. His foot keeps moving, his hands slowly decending back to the vase.

Warm-up completed, Dianli pauses and eyes Besa. "Magic, you say." Skepticism tinges her voice, but courtesy stops commentary. She watches Besa for a short time, then, seeming to get a feel for the rhythms of his work, starts to play a proper melody. It's a mournful piece with short celebratory portions punctuating longer runs of something coloured by distance and regret. As she plays her hair lowers, falling back into a more natural place as she loses herself in her music. A tear, too, falls down one from one eye, running down her cheek ignored.

Besa's heard that before , it doesn't bother him. The teen smiles, "There are many strange things here at the school." After she starts, he turns back to the clay, losing himself just as she loses herself. It's almost a mediation for him, his head nods gently to the rytyhem she creates.

The piece ends, leaving behind it a yawning silence broken finally by Dianli saying, "I guess you're right. I've met a telepathic bear and a girl who's really … not what she seems. And a guy who claims to do with fire what I do with electricity. I can't really be skeptical."
She stares at her flute, pondering the characters down the side of it, playing with the tassel idly. "I guess I'm just not used to it yet. I've been … alone. For a long time."

Besa nods, eyes staying on his hands as the caly spins underneath them, "There are many different people. I have met a mermaid and a giant frog monster." So many different powers! "It is alright to ask though. I know rune magic." His foot keeps moving, but his hands raise so he can look at her, "I am sorry. Alone is not easy. I hope you do not feel that way soon enough. Have you chosen a Team yet?"

Dianli shakes her head slightly. "I've been told about them but … I'm not sure any of them are for me. There doesn't appear to be a 'just leave me alone to live my life' team." She shrugs idly, not quite not looking at Besa. "There's one I've been thinking about, but … I'm not sure I'm cut out for any of them. I'm sort of not a joiner."
Something dark crosses her face. The kind of darkness that is not what you'd expect on the face of someone who is still, put bluntly, a child.
"The last time someone tried to get me to join something, it went very badly for him."

Besa's hair stays to the side as he listens, head tilted. "I understand. Picking which one fits best is important. Metis seem to be more….individual workers. That may be your best choice." The change in her demeanor has his frown, shifting to see her better. Dark anything makes him nervous. he's not had luck with people. "I am sorry to hear that." But now his attention is soupy on her, just in case that darkness comes back.

"Oh," Dianli says, watching what her words have done to Besa's demeanour. "I didn't kill him or anything of the sort." She smiles wanly. "I just melted his car instead of the airplane he wanted me to destroy. By 'accident'. He decided I wasn't suited to what he wanted and left me alone. In another person's car."
Dianly chuckles, the chuckle a little forced. "I learned how to not have 'oopsies' years ago."

That's only slightly reassuring, honestly. The frown stays, but now it's tinted with confusion. "Oh." Cause what else can Besa say? A sort nods, "I am glad you have control. Some do not." His fingers twitch, the clay drying slightly. "I do to cast magic unless it is needed." A deep breath and he looks back to the vase, "How long have you played there flute?"

"Since I was four," Dianli says. "Since they found out what I was and put me out there on show. Making light bulbs light up in my mouth wasn't enough. I had to dance and play music. Only I hated dancing because I was so clumsy. But my flute? I loved that."
She looks up at Besa, her own head tilted for a different perspective. Watching him like a hawk for his reaction.
"I didn't always have control. It's why I was kept away from everybody since I was eleven. They wouldn't let me out again until I could show that I wouldn't kill people."

Besa can actually empathize with that, on a weird level. So he nods, "I am sorry they did that to you. But I am glad you ahem found comfort and enjoyment in your musci. You are very good." He's definitely got a case of the nerves now, although that might not be directed explicitly at her. A soft, alight self patronizing smile, "Well, you can be around me, do not worry about that."

"I can control it most times," Dianli says reassuringly. "And they taught me how to recognize when I couldn't any longer and how to discharge into something safe. For example, I'm controlling it now because I'm calm. Because of my flute." She holds aloft the bamboo device with almost reverence. "Beforehand … you saw my hair? That was me being nervous. A small amount of control was slipping. If it turned into something bigger, something I couldn't contain, I'd do this."
Without warning she points at a metal pipe in the corning. A brilliant, blinding, blue arc forms between her fingertip and the pipe, the air practically squealing in protest at the sudden ionization. As quickly as it forms, it disappears, leaving only the scent of ozone in the air.
"They showed me how," she continues, "to identify things that are deeply grounded so it's safe for me to discharge. I can … feel these things. And when I discharge excess, the problem goes away."

Besa jumps, how could he not? Unfortunately, that causes the wheel he's kicking to warble, and the vase to go crooked. His eyes stay on where the flash was, "Goodness!" That seems to be all he can say on the matter, as she just shot a lightening bolt.

"That," Dianli says softly, staring at her flute before her, "is why they kept me away from everybody for over six years." She glances up at the pipe, then at Besa. "I was once very, very dangerous. Not because I was bad, you understand, but because I had no idea how to stop it."

Besa nods slowly, turning back to his vase and blinking. That is not how he left it. The frown creeps back on his face, but at the clay, not her, "You must be very strong to control that." His finger swaggle as he tries ton decide if it's worth saving. "If there is anything I can do to help you, or if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, please let me know."

"You're talking to me. You have no idea how much just that helps." She smiles, despite Besa not being able to see it. Her voice softens, however. "And if you want to help the most, just tell me when I'm breaking rules. I'm not used to people anymore and I tend to do and say things that are wrong at times. It doesn't help that I'm here in America." She almost, but not quite, manages to not make that last word sound like a curse word. "Everything is new and different here, and I sometimes get lost."

Besa's smile goes a little lopsided, His hands attempting to fix the warble int eh vase, "I may not be the best to help with that. I have been gone for a long time as well. But there are very kind people here. I can help point them out to you, if you wish?" That smile only grows bigger at the America part, "I have found it is not so bad, but be aware all of the food is ridiculously sweet."

"I've noticed that already," Dianli says, stifling a giggle. An actual, genuine, honest-to-goodness sign of amusement. "I know you're not from around here; you sound different. More … English. But still different from that, even. I'm from Guizhou."
The question is left implied.

Besa doesn't look up form the clay, but he does answer, "I am from Egypt. The twins, Schuyler and Rain are both very kind. So are Aidan and Rebecca." He doesn't mind pimping his friends out to new students. Friends are nice, and more friends are nicer! About the food, "I have gotten motte used to it, but when I first came here, i could only stomach the salads."

"I've met Aidan. He … kind of intervened when I was getting nervous and discharging. Explained to others. He seemed nice, yes."
Dianli pauses in thought a while.
"You know, it's not even the sugar that bugs me so much here. Hakka food has sugar in it a lot of the time too. There's just far too much meat here. I keep getting the feeling that I'll never be able to use the WC again after eating sometimes."

Besa agrees, Aidan is nice. He nods, "I miss Egyptian food." A deep bretah, not knowing what the WC is, he gives up on the vase, which is not savable. In one quick motion the tall piece is squished down into a ball. "Perhaps tomorrow the muse will hit me." Or there won't be lighting! At least he got his tokens done! Standing up, "I need to wash up before retiring to bed. Please feel free to use the room any time I am here. I liked listening to you."

"Thank you, Beesa," Dianli says, still remaining on the floor cross-legged. "And next time I won't wreck your vase by startling you like I did." It appears she CAN observe things… "I am very sorry about that. That's the kind of silly thing I'm prone to doing because … thoughtlessness.

Besa laughs, "It is not your fault. I asked about your powers." Sort of! "We will talk more tomorrow. You will see, there are many friends here." He rinses his hands in the sink, enough to get him back to his dorm to take a shower. "It was very nice to meet you, Dianne. I hope you find a Team that suites you."

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