Grass Roots

Posted on Wed Dec 11th, 2024 @ 23:30 by Jacqueline Myers & Magali Isebeart

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Avalon Institute
Timeline: 1 February 1993
3312 words - 6.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Even though it was the beginning of February, Scotland seemed to be in the grip of a cold snap. The noon sun barely nudged the temperature above freezing, and frost still coated the grass as Jackie walked across the crisp grounds. The overwhelming din of the canteen and kitchen still echoed in her head, leaving her ears ringing and her thoughts in a blur. It had taken all her focus not to flinch at the noise or shy away when spoken to.

Outside was quieter, but not silent. The chirping of birds and the distant chatter of others faded as she moved away from the main buildings, blending with the gentle rustling of tree branches. Her pace, initially steady, became more urgent—a staggered run as she searched for somewhere quiet.

An outbuilding caught her eye. It was set far enough from the main footpaths to promise some solitude, its double doors framed by a worn tyre path leading to them. Tufts of weeds sprouted from cracks in the walls and crevices in the ground, leaning outward as if reclaiming the space. Carefully, Jackie pressed her back against the wall on the side furthest from the main building, clutching her sweatshirt tightly as she sank into the cold, damp grass.

The chill seeped through her tracksuit bottoms, sharper than the ringing in her ears. Seeking warmth, her fingers dug through the frost-laden grass to the soil beneath, which held a faint residual heat. Slowly, her senses began to settle. She picked up on softer sounds—the lilting song of a small, round, brown bird. A sparrow.

She focused on the sparrow’s melody, watching as it hopped from a bare branch, fluttered through the air, and disappeared into a gap in the outbuilding’s roof where tiles were missing. Jackie tilted her head, tracking the bird’s movement, and caught sight of something else inside the structure: an old, perhaps vintage, tractor. Its dusty blue paint had faded, weathered by years of exposure to the elements.

The sudden clink-clank of tools startled her. Without thinking, the weeds around her stirred, growing with surprising vigour to obscure her from view.

Magali was happy. Sure, she was cold, but the cold you could dress against. Plus, she'd brought a simple petroleum heater along, and that certainly helped. Sure, she was working, but work was fulfilling, especially when you saw the fruits of your labor slowly coming together, towards the goal you had been pursuing. She, she was dirty - dirt and oil stained her wintercoat, gloves, skin and feathers, but that could be washed off. Ok, oil stains perhaps less so than dirt, but she knew some tricks that would help towards that goal as well. Degreasers that were kind to the skin, and if you washed them out of your feathers with natural shampoos before they had a chance to settle, those would remain healthy too. But, she was working, so she was happy.

For now though, she was pulling on a spanner, trying to undo a stuck, rusted nut on the rusty, olive green 1950 Boehringer Unimog 70200. She wanted to get the valve cover off, to see if what lay beneath was salvageable or rusted to bits. The burly, beefy but compact old machine was part of the castle's motorpool, though it had sat unused for years, and the owl woman considered the possibility that it had been forgotten that it was even there. The title was still valid and it was still insured, but relatively tiny expenses like that could easily go unnoticed.

And so, Maggie had found a kinship of sorts with the ugly, unloved workhorse, and had promised herself she'd see it running again, even if it took her months. It was a hobby project, of sorts, and even though she know one Cameron Johnston was officially the person for automotive maintenance and fixing, her contract with Claire said 'any maintenance and repair work that presents itself', and so she figured Moggie, as she'd come to call the machine, fell under that provision.

Finally the nut came loose, although she dropped the spanner in the process, cringing as it clattered to the floor with a clink-clank, unaware the noise was observed by others.

From her short visit to the canteen and seeing the few people who couldn’t pass as obviously human, Jackie’s eyes widened at the sight of Magali. Whilst she wasn’t as green as she had been when she first arrived there was still a hint of green about the woman. This person had a wonderful crest of feathers finished in two peaks she could only imagine to be ears.

Carefully she peered out of the self-made nest that had started to surround her. Leaning further to see what it was they were working on, a short-snouted vehicle of some sort, not quite a tractor or van in her traditional vision of home. Pushing herself from the wall, Jackie crept forward in an awkward crouched gait before moving to stand. The seat of her tracksuit bottoms were damp from her heels, pointlessly she attempted to brush the wet away. “Hello?” She called out quietly trying her best not to startle them.

"Oh! Hello!" Magali replied, surprised to see anyone there to begin with. She had just clambered down to retrieve her fallen spanner, before intending to make her way back up to continue her work, but a visitor arriving put that idea on hold for now. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here. Oh I must look a total mess, my apologies." The owl-woman grimaced, straightening her jacket and wiping some dust off her work pants.

Jackie held out her hands apologetically and shook her head, “No, you’re fine. I just needed space. Sorry, I don’t know where’s off-limits.” She gave an awkward smile and tucked her matted hair behind her ear. It would need a cut, but the gym shower wasn’t the best place for that. “You look fine. A bit of dirt doesn’t hurt anyone. Can I ask what it is you’re working on? It doesn’t look like any tractor I’ve ever seen.” It took a lot of concentration to make sure her rural farmer didn’t trickle out from her mouth.

"Oh, no, this isn't off limits," Magali smiled, glad for the others friendly demeanor. She wiped her hands on her jacket - it was an older, worn and stained wintercoat, obviously having seen hard times and used as work coat now - before offering a hand in greet. "Magali Isebeart, friends call me Maggie," the owl woman introduced herself. A glance over her shoulder at the old, dumpy, compact and squat vehicle she'd been working on, as she explained. "This is Moggie, she's a Unimog, built in 1950. Kind of intended like a cross between a light truck and a tractor. She doesn't run and hasn't in years, honestly I think she's been forgotten about completely, but I intend to get her running again."

There was a relief as Maggie explained that Jackie hadn’t found somewhere she shouldn’t have. Her eyes lowered to the woman’s hand and took it with a careful shake. “Jacqueline, Jackie Myers.” After retrieving her hand she crossed her arms and held tightly to the fabric of her sweatshirt, shivering from the cold. “It’s really unique, sounds like a good restoration project.” Her teeth chattered slightly, so she rubbed her arms before leaning down to look for the source of the clatter.

The spanner was just out of reach but there was another way. Despite the cold weather under the cover of Moggie the sprouts of weeds provided a firm enough foundation that as she reached out toward the tool the stems leant toward it. A slow looping twirl as if the plant searching for light, encircling the handle and pushing on toward her hand. The warmth of her breath condensated in the air as she stretched to pick it up and offer it to Maggie.

Magali's first reaction was utter surprise, though quickly replaced with delight, displayed through a girly giggle and applause as she bounced on her clawed talons. No shoes for the owl woman. "You can control or influence plants?! That's amazing!" She smiled happily, gingerly reaching out for the spanner as if afraid the greenery holding it up was going to grab her or something. "I wish I had cool powers like that," she offered wistfully, contemplating the spanner for a moment before turning her attention back to Jackie. "Oh don't mind me, I'm just complaining. But that's not why you're here."

That wasn’t the reaction that Jackie expected, but in honesty, she didn’t know how others would respond to her powers. She’d made every effort before now to hide what she could do to the point of making her home in the middle of nowhere with no mains power. Being bent down to retrieve the spanner made it apparent of Maggie's taloned feet. Was she some kind of harpy? “Control is a very loose term. A lot of the time it just happens.”

Slowly she stood, trying her best not to wind herself from the ache in her abdomen wound. A controlled exhale as she returned to upright. “What do you mean? I can only imagine the things you can hear with ears like that. But, I know people can be cruel when you look a little different.” A frown took over from her faint smile, “I turn green in the sun and I grow roots when I’m thirsty and starved. My skin turns to bark to protect me and I get spikey like a cactus… I can’t control that and it can hurt people.” Jackie shrugged her shoulders lightly, “I just needed to get away from people.”

"Hearing better just means it's more difficult to find peace and quiet, and the slightest noise can wake me up. I've sound deadened my room just for that reason. I can see in the dark though, like a cat. That's pretty cool," Maggie explained in a quiet voice, regarding the other woman with a curious but sympathetic look. "I'm sorry you've hurt people. It weighs heavily on you, that's obvious. Maybe people here can help you learn how to control it better?"

Jackie nodded gently, wondering if Alistair helped with that given his skillset. “It is very cool.” She responded, her smile widening. “I hope so, the PE teacher, Andrew, seems very controlled and …” The woman made a terrible stance and punched the air in a one-two combo. He would have possibly been horrified, but she hoped to have got the point across.

“There’s a lot I need to do. I need to meet Miss Cavendish and find my family. Not sure how to do that without ID and money …” She raised a hand from her side to scratch the side of her head, fingers catching against the tangled mats.

"You've lost your family?" Maggie inquired, curiosity and sadness in her voice. She couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like, though she knew that it was not that uncommon in mutant circles for family relations to be - ... challenging, though something about the way Jackie said it made the owl woman think something else was at work here. "I'm so sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened? I can understand if you don't want to talk about it to someone you've only just met."

“I don’t know …” Jackie hesitated and sighed the palm of her hand resting on her cheek. “I might be lost? I might be dead?” She wasn’t sure how much of that made sense and the more she said it out loud the less possible it sounded. “I was taken from my home in December 1991 by some kind of Protection League.” Her body tensed and her hands returned to her opposite elbows pulling herself in. “They tested things on me and hurt me to see how I reacted. No sunlight, sometimes no food or water.”

The woman’s eyes dropped to the frost-laden grass and closed them. “It took me a long time to get the strength to get out. When I did, I found my way home, and no one was there. I don’t know how to find them.” She explained, looking back to Maggie. “I just need to know what happened.”

"Well, let's start at the beginning," Magali offered, her voice calm and gentle. She sat down on the Unimog's bumper, straightening her outfit a bit, contemplating the woman before her. "You are very much alive. I can hear your heartbeat, your breathing. You are also not lost, I see you standing right there, and we know where you are - you are at Avalon, perhaps the best place for mutants like us to find answers."

Jackie nodded, each of Magali’s affirmations echoing in her mind like a steadying mantra. “I know. That’s why I’m here.” Her voice steadied, but a simmering edge remained. “I’m not expecting a miracle, but maybe I can start finding answers—and make sure this doesn’t happen again. Not to anyone.” The venom in her rippled outward, unsolicited, as the frost-laced grass at her feet darkened and curled away. Even the helpful weeds recoiled, their edges wilting in response to her anger.

A sharp exhale broke the tension, and Jackie forced herself back to the present, back to the chill in the air and the calming presence of the woman before her. “Sorry,” she murmured, her gaze flicking downward, unsure if she was apologizing to Magali or to the plants she’d inadvertently harmed.

Although she noticed the plants' reaction, Magali remained outwardly calm. Any show of fear or other emotional reaction could only harm the situation. "You are angry, for what they did to you. That's a valid and understandable response, nothing to apologize for," she spoke, her voice warm. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Jackie’s anger simmered just beneath the surface, an ache that never quite faded. They had taken so much from her. She let out a breath, her shoulders stiff. “I don't think so, I need to speak with Miss Cavendish, when she has time," she murmured, a quiet resolution settling into her words. "But first... I just needed some air. I can’t remember the last time I was in a place so full of people, so much noise.” She shifted, her gaze drifting over the open space around them, finding a moment’s reprieve in the solitude. “Andrew’s been… very understanding,” she added, the words almost a soft relief.

“I think I’ve made a mess of the greenhouse too.” There was a hint of shame in her voice—she felt as though she’d done nothing but cause trouble. “And now I’m keeping you from Moggie.” She tilted her head toward the vehicle, curious to see how it would handle when fully restored.

"Moggie is a thing. She doesn't have feelings, and won't mind waiting. You are a person, in a measure of distress, feeling like you're a burden to everyone you meet," Magali spoke, still her voice calm. She patted the spot on the old truck's bumper next to her as if inviting Jackie to join her. "You're not a burden to me, Jackie. Your experiences and feelings are valid. Talk to me."

“Thank you.” The woman answered quietly before sitting on the bumper alongside Maggie. “I am trying. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to …. people.” Jackie’s fingers linked together and her eyes slowly filtered to the greying blades of grass. “I feel so out of touch. Wary. My brain knows this is a safe place, inside these walls and all I’ve met is good people who care and concern.” A soft sigh escaped her lips, “I don’t know what I should be doing. Before when we had to move, I had money and documents and someone to rely on. I don’t know where he is or if he’s even-” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Maggie remained silent for a moment. She was no counselor, she was just a simple farm girl. She felt a little bit out of her depth in discussions like this. Still, there was some wisdom she could draw from. "Maybe ... If you're feeling out of touch, like you don't know what to do, you should start at the beginning. Take things a step at a time. Find your footing, settle down, go from there," the owl woman ventured. "It's like this shed. No matter how well it's built, if it doesn't have a solid, stable foundation it can't do its job and it'll just collapse. People are the same."

“I guess that’s what I’m doing.” Jackie’s shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, her arms still loosely wrapped around herself. “I’m looking for help and not running away. I guess that’s a start.” She paused, one hand shifting to her shoulder, her fingers brushing her cheek as she fell into thought. Magali’s analogy of the shed struck a chord, the kind of homespun wisdom James’ dad might have shared while rebuilding a barn. “Maybe I could start with the records. Check papers. There must be a library here, or maybe a registry office in Cresthill?” Her voice wavered as she spoke, the uncertainty creeping in. Was she searching for missing persons… or confirmation of something she couldn’t bring herself to name? Her lips pressed together as she turned a glance to Magali.

Magali wasn't sure Jackie was actually hearing what she was saying; to allow herself time to settle, find her footing, before pushing herself to find answers and solutions. But then, she was just one of the custodians for an old castle and the grounds around it, she didn't know people very well. She was no counselor. "I'm sorry," she eventually ventured. "I don't know how to help you. Don't have any answers."

The pearls of wisdom and their deeper meaning seemed to drift past Jackie, but what struck her was the quiet defeat in Magali’s voice. “It’s okay. Maybe I’ll never get answers.” Jackie’s fingers found the loose thread inside her sleeve, winding it tightly around the tip of her finger. She wanted to ask if Magali had someone, a loved one or a partner but it felt too personal. Instead, she offered softly, “I don’t know how to help me either. Or anyone else. But… would you like a hand for a while? I’m sure Andrew will come find me if he’s worried.”

"I'd be happy for a helping hand, provided you don't mind getting yours dirty," Magali smiled, the concerns of the prior discussions set aside for now, in favor of something more enjoyable. And, who knew, maybe some manual labor could help Jackie find her balance, so to say. There was nothing like working off some energy to help ground oneself, the owl woman had found in her years. She hopped off the bumper and reached for the spanner again. "I was just trying to get this valve cover undone to check the state of the valves and could use a hand lifting it off."

Jackie glanced down at her borrowed clothes, clean and fresh. Nothing like the grime-streaked gear she was used to in the field. “I don’t mind getting dirty,” she replied, rolling up her sleeves. “I was a forester with the Forestry Commission across the border, so this is second nature.” A small smile tugged at her lips as she stepped forward. “Where do you want me?”