xp_logs | Rahne, Kylun: Crabgrass is fine in compost.

Backdated to Thursday, March 31. Rahne and Kylun try out Dr. McCoy's famous, or infamous, soup and discuss self-defense class and Kylun's powers. We have no idea what crabgrass has to do with it, but that's what Gmail offered as a "related link."

It was lunchtime, and Rahne was feeling experimental. To be more precise, she was planning to investigate Dr. McCoy's cod liver oil soup -- which was perhaps not quite a fair description, but that did seem to be the most prominent feature in most of the reports. If she didn't like it in human form, she was going to see whether it was any better if she shifted a bit.

As a precaution, she made a sandwich while it was heating up.

Kylun wandered into the kitchen in search of lunch of his own, and his nostrils flared appreciatively at the meaty smell starting to waft from the stove. He smiled at Rahne. "Is that Doctor McCoy's famous soup? I must admit I have been curious, since the uproar on the journals. I can easily wait, however, if only enough remains for one?"

Rahne looked up from her sandwich construction and smiled back, returning to the refrigerator to get the soup (boldly decorated in warning labels) back out. "There's quite a lot, actually, but I was only heating up enough to try. I have to admit, I never would have thought to put cod liver oil in soup myself."

"Nor I, but then, I do not think I have ever tasted it." Kylun chuckled. "It therefore falls comfortably into the category of new things for me to try."

"It certainly smells interesting." It smelled downright peculiar cold; Rahne put more in to heat up and rather thought the warmth was improving it. "I think I hadna realized how different things were where ye came from...."

"We were very remote, too far for many modern amenities to reach, and the greater part of our mission was such that we would not have wanted the regular intrusions." Kylun slid into a chair, stretching his legs out under the table. Something about Rahne's voice, or her presence, was very relaxing; it helped, he thought, that she was herself generally very calm. "Then, too," he added, "we made use of magic for many things, and while our mystics did not have the trouble with metal that Amanda seems to, much modern technology would not have helped."

"I think... I understand that a bit better now than I would have before Asgard," Rahne offered tentatively. She seemed to keep bringing it up the past few days, but, well, it was relevant here. "There's much more of it here than back home, but still not... the same difference, I think. When we were snatched away to Asgard I spent the better part of three months in a pack of wolves."

"I remember you saying so. From the fondness with which you seem to recall them, you must have made the transition. What was the hardest part, for you?" Kylun rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "For me, I think it has been . . . the speed of things, more than anything. Rush rush rush, constantly, and everything designed to make life even faster--even cooking a meal." He waved a hand at the microwave and smiled wryly. "And then, of course, the airplane in the basement, which travels more swiftly than I thought was even possible for anything of solid substance."

"The airplane in the basement," Rahne said wryly, "is pretty strange to me too." She stirred the soup. "Hrimhari's pack... was incredibly patient with me. I didna know anything. I couldna run as long at first, I'd never hunted anything bigger than a rabbit, and I've absolutely no idea why Hrimhari speaks English but most of the communication didna involve speech at all. Learning to watch and listen and smell, talk without talking and know where the rest of the pack would be, should be, and where I ought to go... not to mention being able to get there silently and on time. I wouldna have thought I could do it, if I hadna. But they were very patient, and... 'twas very beautiful there. Er, would ye like a sandwich too?"

"I would, I think; thank you for the offer. And . . . yes, communication is a struggle for me as well, I find." Kylun chuckled. "I like Kyle a very great deal, but I do not understand half the things he says. I know they are references, but . . ." He raised a hand quizzically. "I am not sure I will ever learn all of them."

"Ham, chicken, or something else? And I've only seen a few of the films he talks about myself... though I think some of them are wrestling."

"Hmm. Given the choice . . . ham, I think. I am glad not to be the only one who finds these things baffling." Kylun looked at Rahne curiously. "You said, in your journal comment that you had questions for me, as well?"

"Aye." Rahne started cutting ham, frowning a bit over it. "Only I'm not sure what to ask, exactly... except, to start, will ye be offering a beginning self-defence course in the summer term?"

"I will, yes. If this summer holds true to this past term, the class will be small enough that we can find a time to meet that does not conflict with any of the students' other course choices, as
well." Kylun smiled. "I will be happy to see you there, if you choose to come. Is there anything you wish to know that might influence your decision?"

"I'd like to know more about the requirements and how ye teach it," Rahne said slowly. She finished assembling the sandwich, passed it to him, and checked the soup again. "I think I'd better sign up for it no matter the answers, though."

Kylun a bite of the sandwich. "This is excellent, thank you. As for the course: all I require is a willingness to learn. Experience is what you will take away, if I do my job; I do not ask that you bring it with you. My methods . . ." He folded his hands thoughtfully. "I take the term 'self-defense' very seriously; this will not be a personal combat course, and I will not be training you to be an X-Man." He smiled wryly. "Mind you, if you later choose to make that commitment, you will find that what this course will teach you will form a groundwork for your further training. But in this course, what I will teach you are techniques to deflect and evade attack, to slow down an attacker and escape with as little harm to yourself as possible." He chuckled softly. "You might with a reasonable accuracy say that I will be teaching you how not to fight."

"Oh." Rahne stared at him for a moment, then remembered what she was doing and started serving the soup, blushing slightly. "That's... different. I'm glad. I, er... och, I'm not making sense. I dropped Mr. Logan's lessons as soon as I had the chance." She set a bowl of soup by Kylun's plate and brought her own lunch to the table. "I think, now, that I should maybe have been more cooperative... but I think I would have been, for what ye teach, even then."

"Mm. I have reviewed his notes." Kylun paused, took a sip of his soup, and blinked with surprised pleasure. "I will have to compliment Doctor McCoy; this is quite good. But as I was saying--" He smiled kindly at Rahne. "It was obvious that you and he had very different ways of looking at the world. I think we will find a better harmony, you and I."

Rahne tried her own soup, gave it a thoughtful look, and shifted very slightly into a transitional form for the second spoonful. ...Now that was impressive. She swallowed, as her mouth had suddenly started watering, and smiled a bit ruefully back at Kylun. "At the time," she admitted, "I didna believe... that I ever ought to fight, at all, and I wasna willing to attack even in practice. I've realised since that 'tis not very unlikely I'll be in situations where I need to protect myself, or somebody else, and...." She lowered her eyes. "I've known for quite a while that there's not much I could do against people who knew what they were doing, even if I didna think about it. But I realized yesterday that if I tried... I wouldna know... how not to hurt somebody more than I'd like."

Kylun nodded. "One of the first things I learned--I should say, that my instructors were at pains to teach me--is that the human body is a fragile thing, and that therefore the true measure of skill is restraint, not . . ." He smiled gently. "Well, the sort of assumptions that the young and overeager are prone to make. That you have come to this realization yourself . . . that speaks very well for you. It is an excellent beginning."

It wasn't going to be the way it had with Logan. Rahne was sure plenty of people had learned well in that course, and she probably would have too if she had been willing, but she was so glad. "I think it might be easier to see that," she ventured, "when... if someone's having trouble with a mutant power, 'tis often more obvious and seems harder on them if the problem is that it will not stop."

Kylun's smile took a wry edge. "Nearly everyone here has more experience with a greater variety of mutations than I do--but yes, I think you are correct. One cannot help but be reminded of the need for restraint when speaking to Scott, for example, who wears the sign of his constant struggle on his very face. It might be easy to pity him, and be thankful to have avoided such a two-edged power--but in truth, his example points the way even for those of us with quieter gifts. Self-discipline is a path we ought all to walk, or suffer for the lack." He chuckled. "And I use a lecture where a sentence would suffice; my apologies. Let it simply be said that I agree with you, and that I am looking forward to aving you in my class."

"I'll do my best for it." Rahne smiled a bit sheepishly. "This time." She paused to finish off her soup and took the bowl over to the sink. "Speaking of quieter gifts... I didna say anything before, but I was at the funeral service... ye sounded very nice. I'd no idea ye could do that."

"Ah." Kylun looked slightly sheepish, an odd expression on his leonine features. "It is . . . not a talent I advertise, though it seems that everyone here believes I should be prouder of it than I am." He shrugged. "I can mimic any sound I have heard; compared to so many other powers I have seen here it is . . . almost frivolous, a trick for parties. And I greatly prefer to be proud of those skills I have worked to acquire, rather than a simple accident of birth."

"I suppose that makes sense," Rahne said, "as ye've had more to do with them...." She trailed off and shrugged, with a small smile. "But ye still sounded nice." After a pause, she added curiously, "If ye doona advertise it, how many is everybody?"

"You, Alison . . ." Kylun smiled. "Terry, to whom I am now giving music lessons without . . . quite being sure how it happened. Not so many, really. But it would, I think, be the prevailing opinion." With a thoughtful look, he added "And perhaps there is more to that opinion than I had thought."

"Maybe--" Rahne broke off as she looked at the clock. "Maybe there is if ye think so. I'd best get to class, though. I'll see ye soon."

Kylun nodded. "Thank you again for the meal, and the conversation. I will look forward to seeing you again."