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[for romain]
[It's not hard to find Ghyslain when he's not in class or the dorms - he doesn't go out a lot, and when there aren't classes in the music room, he'll most likely be there. How often do you find a giant grand piano to play, after all? Even his family had a much smaller one, slightly out of tune, which grated on someone with such a natural ear when he came back from lessons and had to practice on it.
Today he's playing something he remembers his older sister listening to; not his kind of music, but the musician was damn good on piano, so the melodies stick out and he picks them out when he hasn't got a song in mind. It's slow at first, then picks up to the actual speed of the song, light and flourishing.
He's clearly in his own world, pale eyes dreamy and head swaying back and forth. In a soft, deep voice, he tries to translate the lyrics he can remember, but they come without scansion and rhyme because it's so off the top of his head.]
Today he's playing something he remembers his older sister listening to; not his kind of music, but the musician was damn good on piano, so the melodies stick out and he picks them out when he hasn't got a song in mind. It's slow at first, then picks up to the actual speed of the song, light and flourishing.
He's clearly in his own world, pale eyes dreamy and head swaying back and forth. In a soft, deep voice, he tries to translate the lyrics he can remember, but they come without scansion and rhyme because it's so off the top of his head.]
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[Did Romain mean his gift? He probably meant his gift.]
Or do you ask what I do naturally? Why I am here?
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The lights, which have been very dim up until now, suddenly brighten - he's not controlling the electricity, but drawing back layers of shadow so that those remaining will be deeper. More solid. Ghyslain's eyes black out completely, and the shadow cast by the grand piano grows and swells, little tendrils curling out from the edges, grasping one of the chairs and pulling it up next to Romain's. Before he makes any move to sit, he takes a small chance - one of the tendrils approaches Romain, rises up to eye level and brushes his hair off his forehead; it feels very much solid, but cool and dry.
Then he gets up, starts for the seat he's pulled up for himself.]
It is called - umbrakinesis. Control of shadow.
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... Umbrakinesis. Right.
[He... he can recognize it's a pretty damn cool power, too, but. Damn son.]
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[He's not smiling as he sits down, looking Romain squarely in the eye. That was no joke. And neither is this. It's important.]
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[Seriously, are you being a creep.]
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[Not a creep. Just someone who got a really, really bad reception when it first appeared and that hasn't improved a lot since. It is creepy.]
There are many who are disgusted. My family - no, my parents foremost - they and their people believe that gifts are...
[And now he's at a loss. The word is nearly identical in English, but he hasn't heard it since he left Quebec.]
... blasphème. Control over the darkness was not a compelling argument against their belief.
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... Dude. [what does he say to that? 'I'm sorry'? It's not really in either of their hands.] I'm not disgusted. Just - wasn't sure what you were gonna do with it.
[He did think about how his own power would be positioned against this, though. Shadow isn't matter. There's nothing he could do to stop it from hurting him if Ghyslain wanted it to.]
You control it pretty well.
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[It can be weaponized, easily, and losing control of it could mean horrible things. He's really not a bad person at heart. Just guarded, most of the time, and not of that positive a mind about the majority of people. But hurting them isn't the answer.]
Or intentional harm. [His probing expression softens just a little. He won't hurt you, Romain.]
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[No, seriously. Have you seen some of the psychos that walk in these halls. Never forget the Imogen Robinson incident.
... and just to clear the air a little.]
Wanna see what I can do?
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If you wish to show me.
[It's a bit of feigned indifference because he almost inadvertently exposed so much of himself already, but yes. He wants to see. Show him everything.]
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Got anything in your pockets?
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So he digs into the other pocket, pulls out a pack of gum and holds it up. What now?]
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[With his hands, he nudges Ghyslain to hold his hand up and flat out. Keep the gum sitting on it to show it won't just be a trick. Doing the same with his own hand and the coin, he lets the other boy watch as the round shape begins to change color and consistency. He should feel the weight on his own hand change too, until it's obvious that whatever's wrapped inside the tinfoil is no longer candy.]
Might not want to put that in your mouth anymore.
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[He's patient, waiting out the change and watching the coin as it starts to look - well, a lot like gum. Had he just swapped them directly, Ghyslain would have suspected telekinesis of some sort, but this is different. This is...
... he unwraps the gum package and finds a solid chunk of metal, eyes going wider at the sight of it. Sure enough, the coin - or what was the coin - looks exactly like gum.]
What is it? I do not know the words. ["Matter" is a pretty specific scientific word, and he's not in sciences; the concept, though, he thinks he understands.]
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You wanna keep it?
[who doesn't like to leave people with tokens of their power.]
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Matter. [That's what it is. The building blocks of the entire world. And Romain can just toy with it however he wants. Some people here are so incredibly powerful.]
C'est incroyable. [He turns the chunk of metal over and over in his hands - then, since they're full, he sends out a tendril from the edges of his chair's shadow to pick up the piece of coin-shaped gum. Bend it, fold it. Hold it up to his nose and smell it. It's not that he doesn't believe what's happened, but he's still trying to comprehend it entirely.]
I - ouais, I will keep it. But I will owe you money. [Oh, there's the finest edge of a smile, just quirking one corner of his full lips.]
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[Okay, he wouldn't admit it, but it's still pretty creepy to watch one of those things just snake its way up his hand and take the gum-coin. He was going to chew it... Oh well.]
What? [To the final remark he laughs.] Don't be silly. It's, like, ten cents. I'll live.
[But he's smiling. That's really nice.
Stop looking at Ghyslain's lips, dude, that's weird.]
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[He definitely notices Romain watching his smile, and that makes it broaden a bit, showing a small flash of teeth. His romantic (and sexual) luck at the school has been almost nil, aside from a few flings that didn't carry a lot of weight for him.
There was just the one, with the actual music teacher, which carried quite a bit of weight, until he learned how common they were and how abruptly and completely they ended. That almost drove him out of the music program altogether, but in the end he chose to deliver the middle finger of majoring in music when he rose to Tertiary instead, and they've reached a quiet stalemate since then.
That doesn't mean he has any more confidence, though. So little things like someone watching his mouth, admiring his smile, make him flush in a way he wishes didn't reach his cheeks. It's not very dignified, blushing.]
My name is Ghyslain. [Since they haven't shared those yet. He pockets his... metal thing and holds out a hand, confident that Romain will be able to handle the strange sounds in his name like no one else here can (Gee-slain. It makes him want to scream.)]
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[Let's not talk about the row-mines he's heard throughout his life.]
How come I haven't seen you before?
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I am not very - visible.
[It sounds like he's building a metaphor, but he just doesn't really know how to express that he doesn't get out very much. Socialize, make friends. He's been a loner since he got here, sent away with "we love you but you can't be in our company anymore," not the easiest blow for a 12 year old to take without very much support. Like Romain recognised, his story is uncommon, so the school just isn't equipped with psychologists to deal with that kind of desertion - disconnection from family, yes, and homesickness, but not desertion.]
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Uh-huh.
[He leans back on his chair then, arms crossed and posture relaxed.]
You never got into the orchestra?
[Not very surprising if he didn't, really. Plenty of kids will play piano and you really only need one.]
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It's Ghyslain's turn to look Romain over for a moment, the way he's spread himself out. Not a hungry stare, he's learned to control those, but a clear once-over that could mean anything. At least Romain's eyes appear to be off his mouth, because a tiny parting of his lips is his only giveaway.]
There are many pianists. [Just as Romain suspected.] You say that I play well, but I am not the best. Classical - it does not appeal so much when I am free to play what I like.
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Ah. Guess that's not up your alley then. But you can still become a kick-ass player. Is that what you wanna do? Tour the world with your own band and stuff?
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That is not - likely to be the plan, no? There will be a more important use for me, I am sure.
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