Training [JT and Rima]

[Rima Donavon]

Rima had gotten over her most recent episode with a migraine. Thank god. Combined with the physical pain, the sensitivity to light, and even the tiniest sound reacting to her eardrumbs like the equivalent of a bomb… Yeah, she definitely thought she’d be loosing a few brain cells, but at least nobody here had treated her insane like the people, those Human Therapists, her Father had bounced her around to.

Her dark hair, now more black with the faintest dark shades and highlights of red running through it, was pony tailed. Her white fedora with black pinstripes was resting atop her head. She was wearing simple black skinny/flare jeans, a white tank undershirt, and a partially buttoned ¾ sleeve over shirt.

The gentle breeze which toyed with a few stray strands of her hair felt wonderful, helping to keep her mood focused and even. Rima’s only point for being out here was normal to most: to try a few simple exercises to try to flex her power. Her control over her Telekinesis was very weak, and in a lot of cases that proved to be very dangerous for people. She nearly gasped at the thought: ‘Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that window to explode and send that sharp glass into your face. You’re horrible scarred for life, but I’m sorry…’

At the moment, she stood with a single marble on the ground in front of her: a clear, iridescent one with a blue streak running through the center. Her grey-blue eyes narrowed at the thing as she prepared to try to make it levitate slowly, calmly, off of the ground.

[JT Johansen]

A light breeze, a warm sun, the smell of someone having a barbeque in the distance - yeah, it was summer, all right. Who cared if the calendar screamed spring? It was a nice seventy-five out and the clouds were pretty thin, making it the perfect weather to do this outside. It was about time it started warming up, too, though this was only his first week at the school.

So far, it was a whole hell of a lot better than it had been back home. From what he understood, his mother was already being reviewed by child services and custody had been turned over the school. He'd been offered a job at the library, too, which he fully intended to take. Sure, he'd be a bit slower than anybody else in shelving books because of his dyslexia, but he understood there were people here that could help him with that, too.

At the moment, though, JT's frustration had was starting to mount. Juggling ball bearings or hurling trash cans at passing cars was one thing; this was something different, though. The only good thing about trying to make this sculpture was that he'd hopefully get some control - and more power. If he could grow more powerful, he could do a lot just by thinking about it. But the more he tried to get this right, the less and less it looked like a bull. Sure, it had four legs and a nose ring, but that could be anything.

No bull about it.

A tray filled with bolts roughly the size of a man's fist lay next to him on the bleachers, and the burger-to-be stood before him in all its artistic lack of glory. At the moment, it looked more like a feed trough with wobbly table legs. Artistic, James Tyrone Johansen was not.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima felt the wind change around her for a moment, a reaction to the power she was about to push at the marble. For a split second, she thought she had it, but that turned to a high-pitched yelp as it shot up into the air about 20 feet, which was a drastic increase of the 5’ level she had been attempting.

She shoved a quick burst at it, screeching it to a halt, but also with about enough force to equal being shot out of a cannon. Ri whirled around, deer-like legs carrying her quickly. Her gaze locked onto the marble. It was going right for the bleachers…

And there was a person on them. Just her luck.

‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’ She screamed at the tiny, glass marble. The speed slowed, and it stopped mere inches from what would have been nailing the boy in the face. It levitated, energy around it charged, in front of JT for a moment, before dropping and landing at his feet, emitting a click as it bounced against the metal of the bleachers.

Resting a hand over the fedora, Rima started at a jog in his direction, already attempting to think of an apology for, ‘Oh, you almost just had a marble shot through your skull.’ Subconsciously, she knew she’d probably have a nasty headache the following day. Her hair streamed out behind her as she pushed forth.

[JT Johansen]

When you're doing metal sculpture, you're typically wielding a blow torch and wearing an iron mask. You're not typically using bolts, unless that's part of your artwork; for some people, especially people who mimic specific shapes - such as animals - it just happens to be. But when you can hurl a car at someone without even touching it, you can pretty much scratch blow torch and iron mask off the list. You're not going to need them.

On the other hand, when you have a hard time doing precision work - such as lining up specific pieces of a patchwork bull so that you can bolt them down with your mind - it's probably not a good idea to try to kill someone with a small, round bullet made of colored glass. A guy could lose concentration that way and, oh...say, nearly behead someone with a piece of iron sheet metal.

Of course, flying bolts that literally punch holes in metal bleachers when they pop out don't help the situation much. If it weren't for his magnetokinesis (which, ironically, caused the problem in the first place), he wouldn't even have known where the other two landed. And of course, he jumped back when the marble came out of nowhere. That had its own problems, as the metal bleachers behind and above him suddenly crumpled upward. He had to jump off of them before he could stop them. Then, of course, there was the sheet of metal.

It seemed to want to fly straight at a jogging girl's head.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima plowed her feet in the ground hard, distinctly feeling her ankle twist. Any other person who wasn’t able to A) control the metal, B) control objects in general, or C) run like hell to get out of the way, would have been dead right then. Telekinesis kicking in, she threw up her hands, a distinctly feminine way of protecting herself, but countered the metal with a seizing wave of control. (Thank god for self-preservation instincts.) It screeched to a halt, groaning and emitting a sound of metal being slammed into say, a car compressor, and bent, finally stopped dangerously close to her. Perhaps only about 5 feet away.

Rima gasped, settling herself straight, then yelped and dropped to the ground, sitting on her butt. A sheen of sweat had dotted her forehead, and she felt a throb threatening to well up behind her eyes. This was definitely something she couldn’t do again. Her form was hidden behind the partially bent metal.

With her lack of control, she had used far too much energy to shield herself. The corners of her mind blurred, but she steeled herself, staying conscious and forcing things to clear the hell up before she turned completely out of it. ‘Not fun…’ She thought to herself. ‘Not fun at all.’

[JT Johansen]

His own forehead had only started show a little perspiration, but it wasn't from fear. It was from the effort not of bending the metal or holding it in place, but of trying to get it into a specific spot while doing other things. He'd been instructed not to use his hands at all, which meant he had to do it completely by mind-power. That wasn't a happy prospect, though he could understand the reasoning. If he didn't have to use his hands, he would greatly increase his level of control - and then he could focus on lifting mental weights.

But then this girl had to come along and - oh. A marble. THAT was the cause of...oh, crap. Now he was really irritated. He'd have to re-do over a dozen bolts because his magnetic field had gone bat-shit-crazy. The nose ring lay forlornly on the ground, and it was a miracle that one of the legs was magnetized enough to keep his project aloft on the other three. With a glare, he turned to the metal sheet. It was all bent up, but that wasn't a problem.

The sheet didn't like being twisted back into a flat shape again, the 'wrinkle's smoothed out by JT's powers, from the screech it gave off. But as it lifted into the air, a girl was revealed sitting on her ass and blinking as though someone had punched her in the nose. He tossed the metal behind him, making it land hard and flat on the grass just to the other side of the dilapidated, deformed bull-thing.

"Y'know, most people just wave and say hi."

[Rima Donavon]

Rima folded her arms over her chest. “Y’know,” She mimicked his voice at first, seeming to test the word as she spoke it before returning to her own voice. “Most people don’t send giant, sharp metal sheets flying around at each other either.” She remarked and stood, clearly having to limp from her twisted ankle.

Glancing up at the bangs of hers which had fallen over her face, she let out a gusty breath, throwing them out of her face. Sometimes they were agreeable, other times… not so much to put it lightly.

She straightened herself, and started to walk toward the boy which had apparently launched the metal at her. Ri continued to limp on the twisted ankle. “Are you okay? Did that marble stop before it hit you?” She ventured, now at the foot of the bleachers. The wind tossed a few strands of hair into her face and Rima swatted them away with a flicker of annoyance in her blue-grey gaze.

Part of her was angry, part scared, and another part downright confused. Then again, launching a marble at somebody with the speed of a cannon was probably not the best way to start off to make a friend. Again, the edges of her mind blurred, and she seemed to have a glazed look to her eyes for just a split second before she blinked it off.

[JT Johansen]

Irritation crossed his face, but he didn't say anything about it. Yet. He would. But he didn't feel like it right now. Besides, he was more concerned with his failed project. He sighed, his lips pursed, his eyes searching the obviously poor quality of his attempt at making...SOMEthing that even remotely looked like a four-legged hamburger with horns. If it got any worse, he might start eating it for real just to put it AND himself out of his misery. Precision. Geez. He couldn't be, like...building a metal house? Or something?

JT shook his head as he turned back to the bleachers. He focused on the bleachers and they slowly began to straighten out. Soon, they were almost back to the shape they'd been in. He let the field go, though. After everything he'd been doing with the bull, he was starting to tire - not much, but a little bit. Four straight hours of trying to piece together that damn bull hadn't exactly been a good use of his time. He could have been reading The Time Machine again, or getting a feel for the library before he went to work in it. But no...he had to build this stupid bull. He turned around, looked at it, and kicked the damn thing. It fell over and he glared at it.

"Pizza's better anyway," he muttered. Then he noticed the girl looking at him. "Oh. I'm fine," he said blandly.

[Rima Donavon]

She looked around for a moment, then fixed her gaze on what he had kicked. She seemed to lapse for a moment, spacing out as a ribbon on nonreality ran through her. Yeah, her telekinetic side-affects were a bitch to deal with. Rima sneezed, seeming to come back out of it, the glazed look leaving her eyes, also seeming to have his voice jar her out of the trance-like state she had been in.

Carefully, Rima processed his tone. He didn’t seem okay, if her blurry senses were to be counted upon. She was either going nuts as the Therapists the human had had said, or she was just suffering a bit for the moment.

“That sounds like a lie.” She said with a half smile. Side-stepping she picked up the glob of metal at the ground and turned it in her hands. It was bulky and heavy. “What were you doing?” She questioned, genuine curiosity in her tone as she started to ascend the bleached up toward him.

Once Rima had reached him, she set the metal… thing… down next to him, and blinked, looking for the marble. It was fairly special, one her Mother had given to her before her passing. Her fedora was still perched neatly atop her head.

[JT Johansen]

He eyed her, half-wondering if she was blind and half-wondering if she was being genuinely curious. Whichever it was, she certainly didn't seem to be all there. He shrugged, not really knowing what to call the piece of...dung. It was supposed to be a piece of art work. Right now, it was just scrap metal with no purpose.

"Homework," he said, sitting down on the re-straightened bottom bleacher. He looked at the end and fixed it; it had come out of the side and the bolts had been nearly stripped, so crushing it into place was the best he could do. Great. Hadn't even been her a week and he was screwin' shit up. Then again, it wasn't even his fault. It was this girl's fault for trying to murder him.

But whatever.

"Nice hat."

It was half-compliment, half-sarcasm. But it did the trick. It was a nice touch. He'd always liked fedoras himself, but had never had the money to buy one. On a girl, though, fedoras were sexy as hell.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima’s eyebrows rose, then knitted together, and she gave him a look the clearly said she wasn’t blind. “Sounds like sucky homework.” She mused, tapping the metal thing with her foot. She stayed silent, listening to the sounds of the outdoors: the whispers of the wind, creaking of branches from the nearby trees, and the occasional voice of a student from across the field.

Upon hearing his comment on the fedora, she gave him a double take. Immediately she had picked up on the sarcasm in his tone, but there was also something else there that seemed, and this scared the living shit outta her, half-way nice. She shrugged. “Fedora is my prized possession.” She smiled fully. Looking down at the hunk of metal at her feet she seemed to be pondering over a few thoughts. “So you’re telekinetic?” She guessed. He had moved it, and it seemed to be with his mind.

[JT Johansen]

Nice. Ha. Yeah, well. He didn't know the girl. He didn't have a reason not to be nice. Not yet, anyway. Then again, he didn't have a reason to be nice, either - especially considering recent events. But he didn't have the energy to be mean at present. Anyway, the hat did top her off nicely and her stubborn bangs made for a nice frame to her pretty face. She reminded him of a female Al Capone, taking on the world with a flask in one pocket and a gun in the other.

He mentally shrugged away the thought, though. She was pretty clumsy with her powers. Pretty would only get her so far. JT, at least, had enough control to maintain his work with concentration. But her? She couldn't even keep a marble afloat with a light breeze. She thought he had problems with control? He wasn't the one pelting people with marbles. But, hey, at least he still had both eyes and didn't have the extra hole in his head a slingshot marble would have provided. He wasn't in any mood to be almost-killed again, though. He'd make sure to steer clear of her next time she was out here with a marble - or anything bigger.

Her words brought him out of his brief reverie at her expense. He shook his head again. No, he wasn't telekinetic. He couldn't move anything with his mind. He created magnetic fields and used them to manipulate objects. At least, that's how it had been explained to him.

"Magnetokinetic. I control metal."

Yeah. That was pretty much the gist of it.

[Rima Donavon]

Rima nodded slowly. It was the first time she had heard that word before, but as she broke down the words into its root words, (yeah she was intelligent despite the partially drugged appearance as a power side-affect), she understood the meaning. Ri looked at him, really taking in his features. A bit of her recognized him as cute, but then again, she could quite possibly be under the influence of side-affects. Somehow, she doubted the latter though.

“Sorry about the marble.” She murmured as she bent over, retrieving it.. Rima turned it over in her fingers, brushing off the sleek glass surface, seeming to relive a memory for a moment. This one, was a marble which her mother had given to her. She leaned back against the railing to the bleachers, then slid the small piece of rounded glass into her pocket, safely tucking it away from other’s views. The Fedora was her prized possession, but the marble was her most precious possession.

Rima gave an embarrassed look. “I don’t know what happened. Telekinesis sucks. A tiny bit over,” She held up her thumb and forefinger, putting a minute bit of space between them. “And something flies 20 feet away.” She sighed, seeming disappointed at it happening again.

[JT Johansen]

He nodded, not really knowing what to say. But then, he never did know what to say to people. He was hardly the social butterfly type. His own powers weren't that difficult to control, so strong was his connection to Earth's magnetic field. The difficulty was in precision. There was a huge difference between ripping a car apart and trying to put it back together. But even that probably would have been a lot better than this damn thing.

"Screw it."

With a sickening, grinding lurch, bolts popped out and metal plates flew apart. His mind caught the bolts and they dropped swiftly onto the tray with a heavy bang. The plates seem to hit an uneven wall before dropping awkwardly to the moist blades of half-dead grass. Soon, it didn't resemble anything at all - except maybe an airplane explosion.

[Rima Donavon]

She frowned. “Repetition, repetition, repetition.” She crouched down, hair sliding over the side of face like a curtain. A soft, dark curtain. “You know, I never caught what your name was, but I bet you could do this if you tried again.” Nimble fingers picked up an edge of metal and turned it over.

Rima knew better, knew she was going to suffer the following day, but also knew she had a brooding idea which might help this guy out. He deserved that much, considering how she had nearly put a bullet hole… er, make that a marble hole, through his head. Ri nodded slowly, and turned to face him, eyes shining under the edge of darkness the fedora cast over her face.

“My name is Rima by the way.” She introduced herself. Now moving to sit cross-legged on the bleacher with the tray, the metal floated sideways and settled itself in a line. It was an improvement, a lesson from her earlier mistake. But the metals had still quivered a bit in the air.