No Longer The Newest

Posted on Sat Oct 14th, 2023 @ 19:29 by Alastair Temple & Rebecca McMillen

Chapter: All Hallow's Eve
Location: Soon-To-Be Music Classroom
Timeline: November 3rd
1811 words - 3.6 OF Standard Post Measure

A bit of hustle and bustle around the grounds could really only mean one thing: Someone new had joined the faculty. Rebecca watched, both from the hallways and around corners, as equipment and desks were brought in, arranged, and maneuvered. Her curiosity piqued, the mousey blonde made her way to the door to the new class, looking around at the setup. Hard to tell exactly what the new subject was, from just chairs and desks. The setup was a little different than her own classroom, which meant it wasn't another art teacher. She wasn't concerned about being replaced, mind you. Just meant a lack of collab assignments perhaps.

Though, no sign of the new teacher. Maybe they hadn't arrived yet...

Said new teacher didn't make Rebecca wait long. A tall man, wearing a victorian gothicinspired outfit, black over maroon, with heavy boots. A luxurious amount long of black curls and a sumptuous beard and 'stache, framing deep, almost sparkling blue eyes. All in all the man looked to be in his mid thirties. He carried with him a clue as to what he was going to teach; a shiny black 7-string Ibanez over his shoulder, a guitar amp in one hand and a bundle of cables with pedals attached in the other.

Rebecca turned to see the man of the moment, and promptly stepped lively to get out of his way, "Oh, sorry, didn't meant to be in the way." she offered as she scooted. A new face, a new everything. She waited until his hands were a little less occupied holding what looked like expensive equipment before she opened fire. "You the new faculty?" she asked, and shook her head, "I mean, you new here, here to the... you know what I'm gonna start over." she took a breath, "Hi. I'm Rebecca. You the newest around here?"

He halted as soon as she addressed him, and as she rambled a sense of amusement appeared on his features, though almost hidden behind the well groomed facial hair. As she spoke he sat the amp down, freeing his right hand, to offer it in greet. "I suppose I am the newest, seeing as I just arrived not twenty minutes ago," he offered in a rich baritone voice. "Alastair Temple. You can call me Al," he added, referencing a song he enjoyed.

She took his hand with a smile, "You can call me Becky." So close. "I'm Rebecca, and welcome to Avalon. So... I'm guessing..." she looked at the amp. The pedals. The wires. The fancy guitar...

"History teacher." She offered with a smile. Her cheerful mood was accented by a movement behind her. Something moved. Something trailed behind her. Thin. Possibly serpentine... no, no it was a tail.

"Almost," he chuckled, his cheeks dimpling as he did. "No, I'm the new music teacher. Which is right up my alley, I have a background in a band," Al explained. He'd noticed her feet before, and now the movement of her tail caught his eyes. Things started to click in his mind - those feet, a thin, long tail, her features rather bringing a specific image to mind~

"And you - art?" Did she teach it or did her call her such?

"I art. I mean, I am art. I ... Teach, Art." she finally found her words. "Yes, I'm the resident art teacher. I figure there'll come a time when I have my class do the album covers for your class." she offered, amused by the notion actually. "A band? That's wicked. I've been sketching ever since I could remember, though a lot of my early work is beyond embarrassing. Some of my current work is part of a, well, call it a private collection." she smirked at her own inside joke.

"I'll let you settle in before the grand tour. Mostly just where the kitchen and lounge are." the nickel tour, as they say across the way. She paused after a moment, though, and followed his glance behind her. "Oh. Hope you don't mind." she offered, almost apologetically. "I like meeting new people, and controlling it is more of a hassle than it's worth here."

He liked her, she was fun, in a nice and friendly way. So, his smile remained. "You're entirely fine, Becky. Don't worry about it. It suits you," he offered, not really sure if that was an appropriate thing to say, so he quickly changed the subject from her tail to himself. "I'm a shifter, myself. My alternate form is a large raven. It's come in use, from time to time."

"Oh, I..." now here was the awkward part. Her power. Her ability. Her talent. Damn she hated those terms but now the issue was this: How much to tell.

"I'm not shifter, in that sense." she started. "I don't BECOME a mouse. I just become as big as one." she offered. "I can talk to them, too. Hear as well as them." in truth, she could run, scamper, jump, and balance as well as them too. Her tail helped in that regard, but rather then bog Al down in the notion that she was only missing the big radar-dish ears and she'd be some cartoon rodent heartthrob come to life...

"It's very handy for sneaking. There's tons of places rats and mice can get to, and they're willing to share." she offered with a smirk. "I got here to the academy by hitching rides on metros and busses. Rats know every way to sneak."

"That's actually very neat," he seemed honestly impressed. Though he thought to himself that perhaps he'd neglect to mention the fact that he'd survived for years on the street by hunting and eating mice and rats. And squirrels. And cats. And young foxes. He set the pack of cables and pedals down as well, giving his hand some rest. The guitar remained firmly slung over his shoulder on its strap, though.

Recalling her earlier comment and recognizing how awkward she felt about her powers, he changed subjects again. "If I'm ever in a band again and publishing, you'd be welcome to do cover art. Though my style of music calls for a certain aesthetic." One that he felt was perhaps not her chosen aesthetic.

"And what aesthetic is that? Are you in a ska band or something? Should I dress in flannel while painting it?" she teased, now much more at ease.

"Ha, no. The exact opposite, arguably~" he snickered, greatly amused at the mental image of him in a ska band, though he sobered up and turned more serious, almost sad even, as he continued. "I played guitar and keys in a melodic deathmetal band, Somnium Tenebris," he didn't say what happened to the other band members, two years ago now. "Our aesthetic was - dark, somber. Blacks, contrasting shadows, oppressive and desaturated imagery," A soft, sad smile. "Probably the opposite of your chosen aesthetic."

Rebecca gave a nod, "I mean, you're not wrong, but I wouldn't mind giving it a shot. Always up to challenging myself, pushing new frontiers and all. Melodic deathmetal, hmm? Yeah I ... I don't know how I feel about that, but I'll give it a shot." she offered, bubbly encouragement meeting somber deathmetal. "Had to listen to whatever my sisters were listening to half the time, so trust me, I'll try any music once to claim an identity of my own."

"Sounds good. Though it might be a while before I even think about publishing anything again," he offered with a shrug. "What kind of music do you like?"

"Oh oh I wasn't rushing you, sorry. Just, you know, keeping something on the brain so it don't wander. Like a paperweight, but for ideas." she offered, then thought, "My sisters were always into The Bangles or..." and there was an eye roll. Oh boy that eye roll. "New Kids on the Block. The quote unquote band from America." she shook her head. "I hated that sound, but my sisters were in charge of the music so, guess who was sitting pretty in a pocket while the music was loud and horrid?" she crossed her arms, looking unhappy about the memory. Even her tail twitched in an unpleased fashion. Everything about her explained her emotional state: Not.. A.. Fan..

"If you told me you made music by bashing raccoons against tin garbage cans, I'd welcome it over THAT." she relaxed in expression. "On my way up here from home, I listened to whatever was on the radio in the bus I hitched a ride on, so... I guess my genre of choice is Travelling Music?" she smirked, amused at the notion, and the memory of freedom.

Al made a face at the mention of NKotB. Seemed he shared her opinion about them. Though as she explained, he listened, and unshouldered his guitar, a gleaming black electric, and started to play. The opening chords to 'Tears in Heaven', by Eric Clapton. He liked that song, and it was a radio hit not that long ago, so chances were she'd heard that while traveling. Of course without amplification his playing sounded weedy and hollow, but definitely melodic and on point. He smiled as he played, always having enjoyed performing for an audience, even if an audience of one. As he played the chords he whistled the lead melody when it came in.

And she listened as he played, leaning to sit back against a desk as he did so. Sure it wasn't electrified or amped up, but she could follow along, and this was a song she had heard recently so she at least knew it. Always helped.

When he finished, his audience of one gave him one person's worth of applause. "I think you'll find a good fit in here, Al." she offered. "Got one fan already, might even go so far as to say you found a friend." she smiled. She was a fast friend.

Very much unlike him, though he appreciated her openness, how approachable she was. "You know, I like that," he offered, honestly, without having to say the same words back. Did he consider her a friend? Friendly at least. "Thank you for the kind words. I mean it," as he heaved a sigh, looking up, past her, for a moment. "I miss performing. Should do it more often. Though I suppose teaching will open up that opportunity."

She gave a nod, "I'd say something academic like 'I look forward to your success' or 'We look forward to seeing you in action' but, I've always liked 'Good luck' and 'Welcome'. When I first arrived here, it was a warm and friendly welcome that really helped cement this as a safe place, where I was wanted and safe from a misunderstanding outside world." she offered.

"So, good luck. And welcome."