City Hall Protest: Take the Fight for Equal Rights to Them!

Nope. And weren't mutants already equal? There weren't any laws against them, anymore, and Jiri hadn't noticed any discrimination. But then, he looked pretty human, unlike the guy pictured on the flier. 

Aussie-Rules Football Full Contact Game, Powers Allowed, Anything Goes!

The poster was an abstract piece of work. He could make out the ball. But around it... was that a blood splatter? With tentacles? Oh god no. Besides, comprehending Aussie rules was bad enough for his sanity before he got powers.

Fourth Annual Pokemon Tournament

This one had pictures on it. Pictures from the last tournament, he'd guess. Pictures... of the students using each other as Pokemon. So apparently that was a thing.

Jiri was trying to integrate himself into Mansion life. Really, really trying. He was saying at least five words to the people stuck in summer school with him every day. He'd started doing his homework in the common areas. And here he was, trying very hard to join a wholesome school activity. But he really didn't want to toss himself into politics, and he definitely didn't want to toss himself into Aussie tentacles. He scanned the other posters on the library's bulletin board, trying desperately to find something, anything, where he could feel normal.

Pyromaniacs Club

How was that legal.

Chroma club.

...He didn't even want to guess. The flier was colorful, to say the least.

Magic the Gathering Club

So apparently there were those kids in every school.

Live Action D&D, BYOM

Jiri almost considered it, almost, until he realized the "BYOM" was "Bring Your Own Medic." Nope. Nope nope nope.

Cooking Club Badminton

Why did he feel like those should have been on separate posters?

Art club

There had to be a catch.

Ceili Dancing

...

...No tentacles on the poster. Just a Celtic knot. 

....

...He could handle dancing. He was rusty, but his mom still dragged him to pubs with names like O'Malley's and Dubliners every now and again.

And so, his first Friday night at the Mansion, Jiri found himself adjusting his bowtie as he stepped outside. He wore black slacks and an orange shirt, with dark suspenders. The ceili dance club met outdoors during the summer, on a large wooden patio between the pool and the hedge maze. Someone had strung up paper lanterns for lighting. Fireflies rose up from the grass as he walked, flashing. At one corner of the patio, a speaker system was set up, and someone's phone tied into it. Nearby, one of the members was teaching a group of new people the basics steps: threes, sevens, rising step.

Most of the people looked fairly normal, in the twilight. Most of them had red heads and freckles. Jiri's own dark curls and olive skin stood out, but his green eyes fit right in. He could do this.

Clubs. They were the kind of thing that Janelle would have turned her nose up at when she was at home. The only people who participated in clubs outside the ones that looked good on college transcripts were the people who didn’t have anything better to do. Janelle had always had something better to do. The problem was, now that she was here and the rest of her life was back in Ithica…she didn’t have anything else to do. It was one of those situations where her Dad would have said something about the shoe being on the other foot and eventually congratulated himself on his sage advice and clever idioms. It was interesting though, after she got used to the idea, Janelle had decided that clubs were probably okay…until she looked at the options.

Where was the Fashion Club? The Gardening Club? Hadn’t there even been an American Indian Pottery Club at her High School back home? All Janelle was seeing here were clubs that involved contact sports, and fighting, and medics, and card games that made Janelle cringe. And then there was this other club that apparently involved some kind of Celtic Knot stuff and dancing. It was an option, and at least the people she met there wouldn’t be the crazy time that wanted to break bones or pretend that they were characters from children’s games.

So Janelle went to the Ceili Dancing club…and was surprised to find that she wasn’t the only ginger at the Mansion. In fact…there were a lot of them.

Not knowing what to wear, Janelle had settled on a skirt that was a little longer than she might have work out at home, but shorter than her mom probably would have approved with a button up shirt that complimented it and shoes that were practical for dancing.

On approach, the redhead noticed a boy who stuck out a bit and approached. He had the air of someone who didn’t know the people dancing well enough to just walk up and join a group. Perfect. This was how one made new friends, was it not?

“New here too?” Janelle aske, eyes roaming the small crowd and the decorations that had been put up simply for this event. “They don’t do things in half measure, huh?”

"Just got here Sunday." The girl by the speakers was flipping through songs, sending bursts of reels and jigs over the little crowd. If he didn't turn around, didn't look at the school behind him, he could almost pretend this was a normal night out. "Was it the new powers smell that tipped you off?" A smile quirked his lips.

The girl who'd approached him was normal--normal in the sense that he wouldn't have seen her on the street and been tempted to gather a pitchfork mob, unlike a few kids he had class with. She looked completely, 100% human. And completely, 100% Irish, for that matter. Skin like winter snow, and about as tolerant of the sun; that smattering of freckles that most Irish girls hated without realizing how cute it made them; hair red enough to light a fire with. He wondered it was straight naturally or if, like so many gingers, she was engaged in a lifelong crusade against her waves and curls.


"Jiri," he said, offering a hand. And on the subject of the decorations: "How much do you want to bet there's a decorations-mancer living at the Mansion? Or maybe an illusionist--that might be easier than actually making school grounds look this... this..." And expressive gesture of his hand. "This."

"Circle up!" The girl by the speakers called, settling on a song. "Bonfire dance! We'll teach it once, then set you lose!"

He offered a hand to the girl. At the back of his mind, a little voice was reminding him of Ghost's words--not all mutants were safe to touch. A larger part of him knew that if he kept paying attention to that voice, he was never going to fit in here. So he held out his hand, and joined the growing circle.

New powers smell? Janelle laughed lightly, a broad smile spreading across her face, “Is that what that is?” she asked. “I was just about to ask what smelled so nice.”

This was going well. The guy’s outfit was a bit outlandish, but there were worse things in a new friend than bold fashion sense, and bowties were getting more and more popular “I just got here Friday.” Janelle admitted, “And this seemed like a better place to meet people than the Aussie Rules Football club.”

A hand was offered, a hand was shaken, and Janelle nodded her head at the possibilities presented for how this lawn had gotten so darn pretty for a simple student club. “I’ve been to school dances that had hired decorators and didn’t look this good. There’s got to be some kind of power involved…maybe even fairy mutants in those little lawn lanterns.” She paused for a moment then remembered she hadn’t given her name, “I’m Janelle, by the way.”

A voice rang out, giving directions, and Janelle’s eyes widened slightly. They were only going to teach the dance once? Hopefully this wasn’t one of those super complex things she’d seen on the internet. Dear God, it wasn’t River Dance, was it? Had she signed up for River Dance?

Jiri offered his hand and Janelle took it, a bit more timid than she would have liked in a first impression, “Have you ever done anything like this before…because I have no idea what’s about to happen.” What the hell was a bonfire dance?

>> "New powers smell? Is that what that is? I was just about to ask what smelled so nice.”

Jiri flushed a bright red, from his checks to his neck. Had that been directed at him? He wasn't sure if that had been directed at him. Maybe it was just a general comment, about... the lawn smell... and stuff. And there was definitely the tinge of flowers in the air. 

Most of Jiri's experience with girls were of the athletic types: the soccer girls, the track team, the rare-but-terrifying hockey girls. The kind of girl who would full body check you when the coach wasn't watching, by way of showing their interest.

Was this how normal girls did it? Or was he reading way, way too much into this?

"A fairy mutant," he said, looking at the lanterns with a discriminating eye, "would make a killing working birthday parties. I feel like the people with glitzy powers are the ones who really lucked out--they'll rake in a fortune before they're thirty."

Someone turned a dimmer switch on Janelle's demeanor when the first dance was announced. Jiri looked at her in surprise--from how confident she'd been a moment ago, he'd unconsciously pegged her as a fellow "new at the Mansion, old hat at the dancing"-type. The timidity with which she accepted his hand dispelled that impression before she even spoke up.

Jiri's flush slowly faded. He flashed a grin, and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Then you picked the right partner. I may be new here, but I've been doing this since I was a wee little boy." He switched into a heavy Irish accent for that last bit, grinning. The accent was a bit disjoint with his mostly Iranian features, but his green eyes sparkled while he said it. Though Janelle had no way of knowing it, he was channeling his mother when she'd had a wee little bit to drink.

He led her to the circle, making sure she stood to the right of him. As the joke went: women were always right... and occasionally correct. 

"Golden rules of Irish dancing," he told her as everyone partnered up and got into place. "If you go forward, you're going to go back next. If you go right, you're going to go left. Don't worry about the footwork until you know where your body's going. If you don't know where your body's going, look at the people who do know the footwork. They're the ones who know what they're doing. Trust me. You'll know them when you see them."

His rules quickly came into play as the announcer girl joined the circle, and started calling. "Everyone join hands. Forward three! Forward again! Back three! Back again! Circle right! Circle left! Turn to your partner, straight line right! --" 

It was one of the easiest dances in the ceili repertoire. Jiri tactfully avoided mentioning that. To someone truly new to this sort of dancing, it was still a whirlwind of group circles and partner spins. Jiri noted that the older members of the club had spaced themselves out throughout the circle, intermixing with the newcomers. Though perhaps "old" wasn't the word he was looking for--one girl, with heels flashing from under her long skirt and perfect grace, couldn't have been more than eight. Experienced, then.

If Janelle had taken his advice, she'd be able to spot the pros just as easily as he did. For the most part, the force of the circle pushed and pulled even the newest of dancers to where they needed to be, with only a heartbeat's delay--that was what made it perfect to open a dance night with. Starting with a bonfire dance let the caller see what level the group was at, and adjust the next dances accordingly. But the people who made it easy, the girls who added those little flourishes of heel and the boys who stepped in perfect time, those were the ones who actually knew what they were doing.

Jiri was comfortably part of the latter.

For the rest, the announcer continued to call out the steps throughout the whole dance, shouting merrily over the music. And Jiri whispered forewarning of the next steps to Janelle, until the dance naturally spun them apart. He'd see her again, on the other side of the circle.

((ooc: For reference, a bonfire dance! One round of it. They keep going for a few rounds--you switch sides with your partner during that last spin, and dance with a new person. For dramatic effect, I vote the Mansion's version of the song last juuust long enough that we switch partners until we end up back with each other. <3))

Thoughts of fairies and parties aside, it was time to dance.

It was…heartening to Janelle to know that she had an experienced partner. She’d taken dance lessons as a small girl, but had given them up in favor of other girlish endeavors when it had become obvious that she was never going to be a virtuoso. Still, knowing the basics had its perks, especially in situations like these. Besides, confidence was contagious, and Jiri had it in spades…confidence and instructions.

Shooting her partner a grateful glance, the redhead nodded her head in time to the music and tried her best to listen to what the leader of the club was saying. There were forwards, backs, circles, partners…and a few stumbles. The cadence of the music was easy to follow though, and soon enough (thanks initially to Jiri’s whispered instructions) Janelle found herself moving in the right direct at the right time (mostly).

Right, left, forward, back. This…this was really fun, but just as Janelle started trying to do some of the more simple footwork, the dance spun her away from Jiri. THAT was a terrifying 5 seconds as her new partner continued the steps. The good news was, that this partner was probably almost as good as Jiri, so after the initial discomfort of a new situation wore off, Janelle was able to keep up.

On and on the dance went, spins, partners, and steps all flowing delightfully to the music. Another turn, and Janelle found herself back with her original partner, all initial worry faded and broad smile stretching her features. “I think I can do this!” she said on a laugh. Irish dance club really had been the right choice. The circle reformed, there was some nodding back and forth from the people who knew what they were doing, and the music stopped. Janelle couldn’t help herself, she clapped her hands with delight, bouncing slightly on her toes and turning to Jiri. “Thanks for all your help! It’s not every day you’re lucky enough to stumble onto a secret dance ninja.”

Jiri's feet kept the time for him as he switched from partner to partner. The dance was familiar, even if the stage wasn't. For the first time since he came to the Mansion, he found himself forgetting he was at the Mansion. Even when one of his partners had fox ears, even when he was pretty sure the gems set at the corner of another's eyes weren't just stick-on accessories, he still found himself having a good time. The fox girl could dance. The gem girl not so much. But that was all normal, at a ceili--there were always a few who'd been doing this since they were babes, and a few who were just getting their toes wet. He was a perfect gentleman with the latter. The former? Those he took for a proper ceili swing. 

Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad. At least there were a few people around with good taste in music.

The closing bars brought them all back to their original places. The caller gave the command that ended most ceili dancers: "Bow to your partner!"

Jiri, holding Janelle's hand, obliged with a deep bow and a grin. His dance partner wasn't the only one who broke out clapping; that was another thing that tended to happen at the end of a good dance.

"I see you survived." He adopted a mock-somber face, hooking a thumb into his  suspenders. "Alas, now that you know my secret dance ninja identity, I must keep you close. For the good of my clan." A solemn nod accompanied this serious proclamation, and a shameless stealing of her hand. Secret dance ninjas were nefarious like that.

He led her over to the side, where he'd spied a drink table set up. The usual high school ensemble: unidentifiable pinkish liquid in a punch bowl, water in a cooler, plastic dixie cups stacked next to each. Just to prove that they could top that, there was also a mini ice sculpture of a faerie that showed zero signs of having been carved. Jiri was beginning to suspect something: mutant teenagers liked to show off, didn't they?

"Pink or water?"  He asked his secret dance ninja captive, grabbing some cups. There were usually a few minutes between dances, for catching one's breath and socializing.

He leaned against the wood railing of the patio, and sipped his own cup of mystery pink. It was very... pink. "So. Umm. Where did you go to school before this?" That seemed a safe enough question.

“I did! Though I’m sure it was only because I had a ninja guardian angel guiding my steps, right?” Janelle said, laughing as the applause died down and people started to disperse. Deemed a security risk, Janelle couldn’t do much but laugh.

“At least until you know I’m trustworthy, right?” Janelle asked, allowing herself to be led from the circle and into what like mild chaos compared to the order of the previous dance. Funny how that worked out. Also funny how suddenly the Mansion didn’t seem quite so empty. Who knew all she’d needed to do was talk to a complete stranger at a dance party?

Grateful for the break and wondering if they’d be doing a new dance next or simply refining the next one, Janelle felt her eyebrows climbing her forehead as she took in the decorations. An ice sculpture? At a dance club? These guys really didn’t play around.

Ah, there was punch. Not punch…punch. Punch had names and flavors and a very specific list of ingredients that made it up. Punch on the other hand was the sort of thing you saw in places like this, usually made with fizzy drinks mixed with pastel colored variations of sherbet. To be honest, Janelle was relieved. It was the first thing she’d seen that suggested this place was normal. She voiced this to Jiri when he offered her a glass. “Pink would be great. I’m honestly glad to see that there is something here that resembles a normal school.” That ice sculpture had freaked her out a bit.

Jiri posed a question and Janelle to a break from sipping the punch to answer, “Ithica High. It’s upstate. What about you?”

Jiri made sure to make a serious face at her question on trustworthiness. A most serious face. "Hmm. That might take a few dances." 

He laughed at her reaction to the drinks. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean." He sipped his pink, and leaned against the patio rail. "It's all a little... much, isn't it? I mean, my school would spend half a year doing fundraisers do get a night like this. I mean it's cool, but it's like... if this is what a normal weekly meeting is like, for a dance club, then what do they do for prom? It's like mutants scale up way too fast. If that makes any sense?" He sipped his drink, turning a little pink himself. He was pretty sure that didn't make any sense. But it was still a feeling he had.

"Ithica, huh? Pretty far upstate." Like three or four hours, wasn't it? "I from good ol' Warwick Valley High." It was still about an hour and a half away, but it wasn't too bad. If he wanted to hop a bus and go home for a weekend, he could.

"So what brought you to Xavier's?" He flushed a little, and gave a self-deprecating smile. "Umm, besides the obvious. Did you just get your power, too?"

She wasn't a freshman; she was probably a Sophomore like him, or maybe a Junior. The point being that she was obviously another transfer student to Xavier's Sister School For Gifted and Talented Youth. 

Janelle nodded mutely at Jiri's estimation of the situation. It had always been the same at her old school. STUCO would spend the entire year gathering pennies to rub together through candy bar and sucker sales to rent out some convention space or a hotel ballroom nice enough that the kids from Ithica High could hold their heads up when they ran into their friends from the private schools in surrounding areas that were able to simply spend a prom weekend at the Catskills resort that one of their uncles owned. Kids in Ithica weren't underprivileged, by any means, but seeing something like this for a simple club made a girl think. Then again, none of these kids were getting to go to their prom.

At Jiri's question, the redhead shook her head and smiled slightly, "I was lucky. My powers came in when I was a kid, at a party." Her cheeks pinked a bit and she chuckled, "There were well orchestrated dares involved and let's just say it was obvious what I was when there was suddenly a field of wildflowers under the trampoline we were all sitting on." It was actually a good memory.

"Never been able to do anything that cool again though. Mom and dad figured a junior and senior year here would be good to get me ready for the real world. Flower power or not, it isn't always hip to have an x-gene. You know?"

That had gotten just a bit heavy pretty quickly, "So you just got yours. Is it a good story or are we going to need more punch?"

((ooc: Sorry for the late reply! Somehow this thread disappeared from my Participated list. I didn't know that could happen. o.o *adds it to Bookmarks, instead* ))

He let out a surprised laugh at her description of the first time her power manifested, then clapped a hand over his mouth. Had that been rude? But it was so easy to picture--a smaller version of the girl in front of him, maybe twelve or thirteen, scrawny as a stick and blushing just as cutely as she was now, sitting across from a red cheeked boy her own age as the whole party ooo'ed at the spreading flowers. In Jiri-o-vision, the scene was lit by quaint fairy light.

"That is the cutest thing I've ever heard," he said, grinning through his fingers unrepentantly.

He dropped his hand when it came time for his own story time. His smile slipped a fraction--how he'd found out about his own power had involved an escort from a school cop and a trip to the psych ward. He cast around for a better story to use.

To his surprise, he found one. He didn't even have to look hard. The psych ward thing was what his mind always went to when he thought of getting his power, but it wasn't. He'd had his power for weeks before that. And not all those memories were bad.

"I don't know about more punch," Jiri looked down at his own cup. "Another cup of this, and I might end up in a sugar coma. Umm. But really, it's not as great a story as yours. I didn't even realize it was happening at the time, I thought it was a dream."

He scratched the back of his neck. His smile came back, a little softer, a little less cheeky. "I drew with my sister. She was sitting on the living room floor with crayons scatter all around and way more construction paper than she needed--typical five year old--and she was trying to draw her school, but she'd gotten frustrated because one of the sides was wrong. Don't ask me what was wrong with it, all the sides looked just as wobbly to me. But she'd started scratching it out with her crayon. And I remember thinking, well if we're going to destroy the building, might as well make it cool. So I took the crayon and I drew in a T-Rex. Maybe a godzilla? I kind of suck at drawing, too. And then she took the crayon and drew in flames, and I drew in a fireman trying to put them out, and she drew in a bird--I think it was dropping something on the fireman?--and we had this whole drawing war over, like, five sheets of paper. It was epic."

He kept looking at his cup. "The thing was, whenever I drew? It was with her hand." He glanced over at Janelle, and flashed a nervous, self-deprecating smirk. "Jiri O'Leary, body snatcher extraordinaire. Feel free to faint in dramatic horror, I promise to catch you."

His power was not as cute as hers, and he couldn't picture anyone ooo'ing at it. Running away screaming was more likely.