Cyberlad
Half Pint
Ezekiel
PatientBean
Mao Mao
Retired
Qia
Festive
mickilennial
AndyC
Location: Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean
The Homecoming Trials: # 1.101 Campfire Contrition
Interaction(s): Listed below in quotes and Iñigo - @Mao Mao
Banjo made a double-take as the other of the football friends was backing him up on what he said. Something he really wasn't used to.
Most everywhere he'd been, pretty much any time he'd taken a stand, made a move or opened his trap he'd generally found himself on an island, having to go it alone against whatever force of nature of the day he was railing against. He wasn't used to having people support his comments, or in Calliope's case earlier, actually advocate for him. Let alone a person he hadn't said five words to previously. He didn't generally tend to make the best first impression, to leave people willing to go in to bat for him.
Maybe things could be different. Maybe things seemed to be coming together. Even if it was coming together over shared morbidity, he'd take it. He gave Calliope's shoulder a gentle, yet excited squeeze, hoping that she too had noticed the change in the atmosphere. He tried to sneak a subtle peek at her expression, but couldn't get the angle without being weird and sacrificing 'cool'.
By the time Banjo had turned back, Rory had already started to introduce himself. Banjo leaned back and started to listen in.
"Oh hey, he's got a brother and sister in the Collegiate group. Probably see them 'round the library." He thought to himself.
"He's a wrestler too. Football enthusiast. Probably an athlete in general, by the looks of him. Hockey would be probably be a fair bet as well, since he's Canadian. Kids up here are practically born with skates on... his poor mother." Banjo deadpanned internally, as he tried to 'round out what he could tell from this one.
Banjo suddenly tensed as he remembered earlier in the day...
"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.
"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"
Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.
He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.
Banjo enveloped her in his arms. It had taken a lot, the memories and the hurt still clearly fresh, but she'd finally laid out the full story from when he was setting up the tent.
He whispered something to her away from the prying eyes of others, as Luce - evidently the name of the blonde girl with the fresh change of vomit-free clothing - began her tale of woe.
"It's Okay. You can't choose your family, but you do get to pick your friends... You don't ever need to feel alone again."
He offered a warm sincere smile, and squeezed her shoulders with his arms, as he settled in to hear the other girl's story.
Luce delivered her story in clipped bites. Even by today's standards he got the sense that the trauma here was thick. She told of how she doesn't like open spaces - agorophobia. Which stood in stark contrast to his own troubles with claustrophobia, the unexplained nightmares... He rolled his own shoulders as he started to stiffen up at the thought, before writing it off as his muscles just atrophying as the time ticked further on from when he last 'juiced'.
Now this... this was a lot. There were 'near-death' experiences, but this-- this sounded a lot like Luce was covering a post-death experience. Banjo could eventually heal up deep scar tissue, the result of his body re-knitting tissue, after taking in enough new sunrises. But his powers did nothing for fresh wounds. He was, in fact, remarkably human in terms of his own durability - for all the advantages it gave him physically elsewhere. But he knew those scars he'd 'earned', every one of them still took a toll and left a mark. Even if they were no longer visible. What kind of mental scarring would there be for someone who came back from death?
Banjo wasn't completely lacking in self-awareness. He knew just not having parents had fucked him up somewhat. But this was a whole other thing. How much could someone really hope to get themselves back together, get their life back on track, when they'd lost their grip on the mortal coil... only to find themselves right back where they were. And here she was, right back here punching.
I mean, sure, she looked like she'd been through Hell and back. Quite frankly, she looked like shit warmed up. But going twelve rounds with death would probably do that to a person. Banjo had read about people coming back from wars with shell shock.
"It's fine." He said. "More than fine. I can bring panic out in a person." The smile drifted back into that joking smirk, before flashing back. "--And it sounds like you've been through a Hell of a lot."
Luce then started to bring Iñigo over. Banjo slowly started to unfurl himself from around Calliope.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew there was a lot of powers around, and he didn't-- he WOULDN'T have Calli' taking any kind of stray shots from someone trying to take a poke at him, if that's what this was. He would separate himself, be his own target, and be ready.
Banjo thought for a moment. He'd put space between himself and Calliope, but he wasn't sure how much was necessary. He still had no idea what he was dealing with here, in Iñigo. Sure, he backed himself - liked his chances. He generally always did. But how much space was 'safe' he had no idea. He opened his mouth to reply, and...
Great. Just great...
"So have at it." Banjo said, looking up from where he sat. "Whaddaya want?"
Iñigo didn't appreciate being put in the spotlight by someone else, but it wasn't like they didn't anticipate it. So they sat down on a stone that served as a chair and spoke to Banjo while trying to ignore the curious onlookers around the campfire. "I just would like to apologize for my conduct towards you earlier. You were only introducing yourself with an act of kindness, and I spat on it for no reason. I don't have any excuses, nor will I make one. I am sorry."
"Oh... is that all? Pah! Don't worry about it. Mountains and molehills, and all of that junk. You said some things, I said... A lot of things. Water under the bridge. Yeah? Oh, hey, guys? This is Iñigo... Tell 'em about yourself... G'awn. Now's not a time for shyness." He made a handwaving gesture, to turn the conversation over to the newcomer, before turning back to resume his position around Calliope - comfortable and confident in the threat having been squashed.
And that was that, but... Iñigo didn't feel the sense of relief of being forgiven. Perhaps it was the way the subject was changed so fast. Or how they were expecting something different than a simple "all is well between us now" answer. Or maybe they were just overanalyzing the entire thing, making it a big deal for no reason. Yet, if they remained quiet on the issue, it would've driven them insane. Iñigo blurted out, still dumbfounded by the unusual response, "That... t-that... I just don't get it! How can you just accept my apology so... so casually? And then pretend like it was all a simple misunderstanding? You don't have to accept it out of formality, you know. Hell, you can go on ahead and be direct with me. I can take it, believe me."
Banjo cocked an eyebrow and turned back, "Sorry, Calli'..." He said softly as he turned back to face, the matter clearly only resolved on one side.
"I can accept it so casually, because I dealt with it at the time so casually. I was direct. I am still being direct. Trust me when I tell you... I will be direct. Difficulty with being direct is not an issue my people have, believe me. It's fine. Hell, out of the two of us, I'm working with English as my first language, and I suspect you're hardly the only person here who has wanted to cave my head in."
"I'm not about to go on some lifetime vendetta over a clumsy momentary lapse of politeness. If that were a reasonable response there'd be a neverending line of people beating down my door looking for blood. I'm not generally one for holding grudges."
"Never bloody stayed in one place long enough to ever need to hold a grudge..." He thought to himself, but that didn't need to be said.
"Okay then." Iñigo nodded out of an understanding with his words even though there were still doubts, which were buried deep in their mind—for the moment. Then, realizing the opportunity to introduce themselves had presented itself, they began with a correction towards Banjo in a light-hearted manner. "And for your information, English is my first language too. But my folks taught me their native tongue at a very young age. So I am bilingual in Spanish and English."
"Well... sorry, about that." He said, thinking that maybe if he apologised for something then it might break the chain and the other guy might stop. "Y'know. For the assumption. Accent's thick, but I'm not one to talk, I guess."
"Nah, no need to apologize."
Iñigo turned their attention to everyone else sitting around the campfire and started to talk. "So besides that tidbit about myself, my name is indeed Iñigo. Please at least make an effort to pronounce it correctly. Grew up on the outskirts of Las Vegas with my parents and little brother. My power was activated at some nightclub on the strip while I was celebrating spring break. Fun fact, I was in my third year of university when it happened—almost a year away from getting my bachelor's in history. After that..."
"Bueno, a ver cómo me va." Iñigo took a deep breath, prepared to divulge their big secret to strangers in the middle of the forest.
"...After that, Ispentfivemonthsinadetentioncenterandthenendedupherewiththerestofyouinthewoods. Now, does anyone want to see my power in action?" Iñigo awkwardly smiled, acting as if they were not nervous (and totally not sweating) in front of everyone.
"Fuck off!" Banjo barked, a big smirk on his face.
Everyone fell silent, as all eyes fell on him, wondering what horrible turn this conversation was about to take.
"¿Qué..?"
Banjo started up. "So you mean to tell me, that you somehow managed to survive... almost half a year... in prison... somehow dodgin' getting stabbed, shivved and otherwise brutalised on a daily basis... just to come here, and almost get your arse kicked by ME within five bloody minutes..?"
There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Banjo's cackle filled the campsite's air.
"You're bloody jokin' me!" Warmth and laughter once again filled the air, as people further introduced themselves to one another.
Previously: Campfire Tales and Terrors
Noticing the brief silence, Rory looked up to see a few eyes gaze in his direction. He hadn’t spoken up yet, and was only now slightly embarrassed about the playbook. He quickly slammed it closed, his leg shaking nervously as he took a breath. He looked up towards Trevor for some semblance of reassurance, before speaking to the group at large. ”Banjo’s right. Not all of us can control what we do. They let us work on that here, safely.” He turned his gaze to Haleigh, trying to offer a bit of a soft smile. His mother had always mentioned how useful her time at P.R.C.U. was in controlling her powers. Maybe it would help Haleigh too.
Banjo made a double-take as the other of the football friends was backing him up on what he said. Something he really wasn't used to.
Most everywhere he'd been, pretty much any time he'd taken a stand, made a move or opened his trap he'd generally found himself on an island, having to go it alone against whatever force of nature of the day he was railing against. He wasn't used to having people support his comments, or in Calliope's case earlier, actually advocate for him. Let alone a person he hadn't said five words to previously. He didn't generally tend to make the best first impression, to leave people willing to go in to bat for him.
Maybe things could be different. Maybe things seemed to be coming together. Even if it was coming together over shared morbidity, he'd take it. He gave Calliope's shoulder a gentle, yet excited squeeze, hoping that she too had noticed the change in the atmosphere. He tried to sneak a subtle peek at her expression, but couldn't get the angle without being weird and sacrificing 'cool'.
Rory placed his hands on his knees, willing his leg to stop shaking for a moment. It wasn’t very cooperative, sort of vibrating slightly still despite Rory’s efforts. He looked over to Calliope for a moment, his gaze turning cold for a moment as he did, before looking towards the others and letting his smile return. ”My name is Rory Tyler… My parents went here years ago. I live… lived in Ottawa. I’ve got a brother and a sister, they’re both twins here in the Collegiate program. I guess my fun fact is that I was a pretty good wrestler in high school…” Rory felt a little nervous at this point. He knew he was stalling from having to explain what his power was. He just flashed a smile, trying to make a good impression for those that didn’t already think less of him.
By the time Banjo had turned back, Rory had already started to introduce himself. Banjo leaned back and started to listen in.
"Oh hey, he's got a brother and sister in the Collegiate group. Probably see them 'round the library." He thought to himself.
"He's a wrestler too. Football enthusiast. Probably an athlete in general, by the looks of him. Hockey would be probably be a fair bet as well, since he's Canadian. Kids up here are practically born with skates on... his poor mother." Banjo deadpanned internally, as he tried to 'round out what he could tell from this one.
Rory flipped open the playbook and turned it to the last page, which was just a cut-out note in his Aunt’s handwriting with the name of his power. He read the note, and nodded. ”My power is Power Mimicry. I can borrow a power from someone I’m near for a short time… it’s why I’ve been writing notes down in this.” Rory held up his wrist, showing off the wristband and pocket playbook. ”I… I don’t really use it, honestly. Any time I do, I get really sick after.” Rory kept his nervous smile up, looking around to the others. ”So yeah… that’s me. Who’s next?”
Banjo suddenly tensed as he remembered earlier in the day...
”Look man, we need to be trying to get along here. If you need to walk things off, walk it off… but you can’t be talking to people that way, Andy. We’re a team, like it or not… so let’s just try to get along.” Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.
Rory pushed to jog a little faster to finish closing the gap, and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder in an effort to stop him for a moment and come to a sense of understanding.
and accentuated his point by reaching out to grab Banjo’s shoulder.
"Ohhhhhh shit." Banjo thought to himself. Time froze for Banjo as his mind spun trying to figure out how to handle this fresh clusterfuck.
"Let's not panic... he just said it himself. He doesn't use it. He's not going to fool around and do anything stupid anytime soon. This is easy. You find him later, away from anyone else. No need to cause anyone any kind of panic, and you explain to him the 'rules' you came up with. The 'rules' for using it safely and not endangering anyone or... the world. I mean he can follow a simple set of rules, right?"
Banjo offered Rory a simple thumbs up and a strained smile, in support of Rory's willingness to share with the group, as he sat in more abject terror than he'd been in for quite some time.
He was pretty sure abject terror was generally an absolute for most people, and not a sliding scale. But Banjo did not grow up as most people.
Calli supposed she should also share. It was only fair. "So I admittedly grew up in a very privileged home. My father is a senator in the United States. He worked hard to get there, especially since the country looks down on people of color, even if they were here legally. To that end, once he achieved it, everyone else was expected to fall in line. We had to look a certain way, act a certain way. We couldn't hang out with certain kids if it made us look bad. We were limited in how we interacted with the world. Every time we left the house we were expected to be perfect. Get perfect grades. One slip-up and we paid the price. It was almost like we had to be one unit rather than be individuals."
"Recently, like a few months ago, the pressure got too much. I was out with my parents, making the rounds and showing how great we were, when I just...lost it. I knew what my powers were. Had known for a long time. I think my mother knew, but not my father. But when I lost it, there was ice everywhere. It destroyed the town center's water fountain. The cross-section streets were destroyed. Hell, it looked like fucking Christmas in July. I made it snow! And everyone just...looked at me like I was a freak. A monster. I could handle the strangers looking at me like that. But it was my father's expression that destroyed me. It's funny, he thinks I'm here to learn to hide it better. Jokes on him, I guess."
Calli brought her knees up to her and wrapped her arms around them. She felt lighter, but she would not say she felt better.
Better took time.
Banjo enveloped her in his arms. It had taken a lot, the memories and the hurt still clearly fresh, but she'd finally laid out the full story from when he was setting up the tent.
He whispered something to her away from the prying eyes of others, as Luce - evidently the name of the blonde girl with the fresh change of vomit-free clothing - began her tale of woe.
"It's Okay. You can't choose your family, but you do get to pick your friends... You don't ever need to feel alone again."
He offered a warm sincere smile, and squeezed her shoulders with his arms, as he settled in to hear the other girl's story.
"Hi everyone. Sorry about earlier. I'm Luce. It's really nice to meet you all. I'm from Canada - close by, relatively. Houston BC. Never knew my dad, but my mom worked really hard. Used to camp. I don't anymore. Lost my brothers in an accident. Don't like the trees anymore, or open spaces. But it's how I found out about my powers."
Luce delivered her story in clipped bites. Even by today's standards he got the sense that the trauma here was thick. She told of how she doesn't like open spaces - agorophobia. Which stood in stark contrast to his own troubles with claustrophobia, the unexplained nightmares... He rolled his own shoulders as he started to stiffen up at the thought, before writing it off as his muscles just atrophying as the time ticked further on from when he last 'juiced'.
"I don't know the rating, or category, or the official stuff. Whatever it is - I don't feel pain when I'm hurt. Hurt bad, I mean. It doesn't slow me down, doesn't stop me, I just keep going. It's like my body just...adapts. Whatever stops working, something else picks up the slack. And then when I'm out, when I'm safe...I heal up real good after. I'm um, I'm not sure I can actually be killed."
She took another deep breath, letting her top down and pulling from her water bottle. That was the most talking she'd done in a long time. "My mom sent me here for a fresh start. Small town stuff, you know. It's really nice to meet you all. Sorry for vomiting, Banjo. It wasn't you. I just panicked. I um...I panic a lot. I'm sorry."
Now this... this was a lot. There were 'near-death' experiences, but this-- this sounded a lot like Luce was covering a post-death experience. Banjo could eventually heal up deep scar tissue, the result of his body re-knitting tissue, after taking in enough new sunrises. But his powers did nothing for fresh wounds. He was, in fact, remarkably human in terms of his own durability - for all the advantages it gave him physically elsewhere. But he knew those scars he'd 'earned', every one of them still took a toll and left a mark. Even if they were no longer visible. What kind of mental scarring would there be for someone who came back from death?
Banjo wasn't completely lacking in self-awareness. He knew just not having parents had fucked him up somewhat. But this was a whole other thing. How much could someone really hope to get themselves back together, get their life back on track, when they'd lost their grip on the mortal coil... only to find themselves right back where they were. And here she was, right back here punching.
I mean, sure, she looked like she'd been through Hell and back. Quite frankly, she looked like shit warmed up. But going twelve rounds with death would probably do that to a person. Banjo had read about people coming back from wars with shell shock.
"It's fine." He said. "More than fine. I can bring panic out in a person." The smile drifted back into that joking smirk, before flashing back. "--And it sounds like you've been through a Hell of a lot."
Luce looked around the circle, smiling as warmly as she could muster and letting the nerves wash over her and depart again, allowing anxiety to come and go like commanding the tides. She noticed one missing among their number, and turned her head toward Iñigo, who was sat separately a little off from the circle, propped up against the trees. She shivered slightly to look at it, but raised her hand to wave.
"Iñigo, right?" She called out, putting on her best friendly voice. "Would you like to join us?"
Luce then started to bring Iñigo over. Banjo slowly started to unfurl himself from around Calliope.
He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew there was a lot of powers around, and he didn't-- he WOULDN'T have Calli' taking any kind of stray shots from someone trying to take a poke at him, if that's what this was. He would separate himself, be his own target, and be ready.
But rather than introducing themselves right away, Iñigo turned their sights over to Banjo, ready to apologize for their behavior. "Before I introduce myself to everyone, I'd like to say something to Banjo about earlier. We can talk about it here or somewhere more private, whatever you want to do."
Banjo thought for a moment. He'd put space between himself and Calliope, but he wasn't sure how much was necessary. He still had no idea what he was dealing with here, in Iñigo. Sure, he backed himself - liked his chances. He generally always did. But how much space was 'safe' he had no idea. He opened his mouth to reply, and...
"Oh, don't worry Iñigo" She quickly spoke up, unprompted. "We're all opening up here, no more secrets. Share with the class." Her tone and smile were pure affability, internally she was desperate for something to end the circle of trauma dumping, and whatever petty drama had involved Calliope's new boy toy seemed a wonderful distraction.
Great. Just great...
"So have at it." Banjo said, looking up from where he sat. "Whaddaya want?"
Iñigo didn't appreciate being put in the spotlight by someone else, but it wasn't like they didn't anticipate it. So they sat down on a stone that served as a chair and spoke to Banjo while trying to ignore the curious onlookers around the campfire. "I just would like to apologize for my conduct towards you earlier. You were only introducing yourself with an act of kindness, and I spat on it for no reason. I don't have any excuses, nor will I make one. I am sorry."
"Oh... is that all? Pah! Don't worry about it. Mountains and molehills, and all of that junk. You said some things, I said... A lot of things. Water under the bridge. Yeah? Oh, hey, guys? This is Iñigo... Tell 'em about yourself... G'awn. Now's not a time for shyness." He made a handwaving gesture, to turn the conversation over to the newcomer, before turning back to resume his position around Calliope - comfortable and confident in the threat having been squashed.
And that was that, but... Iñigo didn't feel the sense of relief of being forgiven. Perhaps it was the way the subject was changed so fast. Or how they were expecting something different than a simple "all is well between us now" answer. Or maybe they were just overanalyzing the entire thing, making it a big deal for no reason. Yet, if they remained quiet on the issue, it would've driven them insane. Iñigo blurted out, still dumbfounded by the unusual response, "That... t-that... I just don't get it! How can you just accept my apology so... so casually? And then pretend like it was all a simple misunderstanding? You don't have to accept it out of formality, you know. Hell, you can go on ahead and be direct with me. I can take it, believe me."
Banjo cocked an eyebrow and turned back, "Sorry, Calli'..." He said softly as he turned back to face, the matter clearly only resolved on one side.
"I can accept it so casually, because I dealt with it at the time so casually. I was direct. I am still being direct. Trust me when I tell you... I will be direct. Difficulty with being direct is not an issue my people have, believe me. It's fine. Hell, out of the two of us, I'm working with English as my first language, and I suspect you're hardly the only person here who has wanted to cave my head in."
"I'm not about to go on some lifetime vendetta over a clumsy momentary lapse of politeness. If that were a reasonable response there'd be a neverending line of people beating down my door looking for blood. I'm not generally one for holding grudges."
"Never bloody stayed in one place long enough to ever need to hold a grudge..." He thought to himself, but that didn't need to be said.
"Okay then." Iñigo nodded out of an understanding with his words even though there were still doubts, which were buried deep in their mind—for the moment. Then, realizing the opportunity to introduce themselves had presented itself, they began with a correction towards Banjo in a light-hearted manner. "And for your information, English is my first language too. But my folks taught me their native tongue at a very young age. So I am bilingual in Spanish and English."
"Well... sorry, about that." He said, thinking that maybe if he apologised for something then it might break the chain and the other guy might stop. "Y'know. For the assumption. Accent's thick, but I'm not one to talk, I guess."
"Nah, no need to apologize."
Iñigo turned their attention to everyone else sitting around the campfire and started to talk. "So besides that tidbit about myself, my name is indeed Iñigo. Please at least make an effort to pronounce it correctly. Grew up on the outskirts of Las Vegas with my parents and little brother. My power was activated at some nightclub on the strip while I was celebrating spring break. Fun fact, I was in my third year of university when it happened—almost a year away from getting my bachelor's in history. After that..."
"Bueno, a ver cómo me va." Iñigo took a deep breath, prepared to divulge their big secret to strangers in the middle of the forest.
"...After that, Ispentfivemonthsinadetentioncenterandthenendedupherewiththerestofyouinthewoods. Now, does anyone want to see my power in action?" Iñigo awkwardly smiled, acting as if they were not nervous (and totally not sweating) in front of everyone.
"Fuck off!" Banjo barked, a big smirk on his face.
Everyone fell silent, as all eyes fell on him, wondering what horrible turn this conversation was about to take.
"¿Qué..?"
Banjo started up. "So you mean to tell me, that you somehow managed to survive... almost half a year... in prison... somehow dodgin' getting stabbed, shivved and otherwise brutalised on a daily basis... just to come here, and almost get your arse kicked by ME within five bloody minutes..?"
There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence before Banjo's cackle filled the campsite's air.
"You're bloody jokin' me!" Warmth and laughter once again filled the air, as people further introduced themselves to one another.
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