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Creative Inspirations | Monday, period one

This week, class had been advised to bring anything they wanted to create with - guitars, chalk, pencil - with them to Portalocity. Hannibal himself had brought a portable - somewhat, anyway; it ran on batteries and had a case - theremin with him. He was wearing (designer, expensive, plaid) jeans and a light sweater along with (expensive, designer, not-plaid) hiking boots.

"Welcome, everybody. This week will be slightly different - we'll be spending the entire class time at our destination, and indulging our creativity there."

//We'll be hitting up an old power station in Perth,// Jono intoned, a backpack over one shoulder and a mischievous glint in his eye. //It's been sitting abandoned for quite some time now, but it's quite the destination for people looking to explore old abandoned tunnels, get into things they generally shouldn't be getting into, and to paint on the walls.//

The bag, of course, was full of spray paint. Because Jono was an excellent role model.

"There are also bound to be some very interesting acoustics, for those of you who may be musically inclined," Hannibal added. "And if you'd like to explore, the tunnels apparently lead down to the sea. Please be careful, but enjoy yourself." He brought out another bag, this one with several hard hats in it. "We are required to wear these while within the structure. Everybody please take one." Not that they could force the students to wear them when they weren't in sight, but that wasn't his concern.

//Paint, explore, sing at the top of your lungs, whatever you see fit. Don't get yourselves hurt - bring a light with you into the tunnels if you do end up going that way - and we'd rather not have to go hunting for you at the end of the class period, but besides that, go nuts.//

And with that, they ushered the students through the portal, Jono opening up the bag of spray paint and flashlights for students to help themselves to once they were on the other side.

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"I will make note of that should I need it in future."

Who knew what rude person might need wrapping in rainbow tape? There were so many possibilities.

He took the hat and checked that the tape wasn't going to stick to him, then put it on, carefully adjusting it. "What do you think?"

//I think... you're actually making it look good,// Jono replied, blinking. He hadn't actually expected that would work. //Superpower. See?//

He was stuck on this.

Ignore the unintentional duct tape pun.

Hannibal looked a bit smug at that, even if Jono's fixation on his "power" was a bit bemusing. "But in this case, you chose the pattern. And you may be somewhat biased."

Look, powers were kind of a theme in Jono's life. And if Hannibal refused to acknowledge having a sense of smell comparable to Wolverine's as a power, he was going to have to suck it up and accept that tartankinesis was actually a thing.

//I might be somewhat biased, but there is a very finite number of people who actually look good with one of these things on their heads,// he pointed out, reasonably. //And apparently your power now extends to the ability to make any plaid look good no matter what, so well done.//

Hannibal gave him a little bow. "I look good in nearly anything. But this is certainly better than white. Speaking of which, I note your own hat has been redecorated as well. No flames?"

//I hardly need to decorate my hat with flames when I have ready access to the real thing at any given point in time,// Jono replied, putting his nose into the air. //... And besides, they were out of the flame-print tape.//

Hush. Just because he'd looked didn't mean he was actually going to go through with it, anyway!

"Of course they were." Hannibal grinned at him. "So you spent extra funds on more spray-paint instead?" That was a very large bag, Jono.

//Enough so that anybody who feels the need to has the colours they'd like for painting on the walls,// Jono agreed, shamelessly. //Wouldn't want anybody to be left out, after all.//

And maybe he had a particular mural in mind, himself, and he'd needed one heck of a variety to pull it off.

"Of course not. Our students have proven remarkably particular about such things," Hannibal answered, deadpan. Did you have enough white for Dante to cover up anything he painted?

Please. There hadn't been enough white for that in the whole spray paint section.

//Haven't they, though? It'll be interesting to see what this lot makes of this particular outing, at any rate.//

"They've all one thing in common," Hannibal noted, "a sense of adventure." Even Alluka had a very inquisitive mind. "I believe they'll enjoy it."

He smiled at Jono. "What do you plan on painting?" He seemed to have a bit of a plan going on.

Jono shrugged his shoulders in reply to that.

//This seems like the place to go for graffiti. And I don't have much experience with graffiti, but there is one thing I could paint with my eyes closed. I want to see if it's still there, I suppose.//

"Still there. Behind your eyes, you mean?" Hannibal asked. "Or the talent to realize it?"

//Maybe a bit of both,// Jono mused, shrugging his shoulders. //There was another one of those minds snuck in since the last time I did this. And as anti-establishment as that particular mind was, he really wasn't the graffiti type.//

... Just roll with it.

"I have faith," Hannibal said, smiling. "you never truly lose art."

//Maybe you don't lose it,// Jono allowed, //but it can sure as hell gather dust if you leave it be long enough. We'll see, I suppose. Worst that happens is I put something ugly on a wall over the top of something else that was ugly.//

Because of course he'd be looking for a dirty word or something to paint over. He wasn't going to cover the actual art that was gracing those walls. Not if he could help it.

Hannibal shook his head. "The skills may become rusty, but the inspiration doesn't. If it isn't so pretty as you would like, the feeling behind it remains."

//Well. Then this is going to be an interesting piece either way, I suppose.//

Jono gave the walls a thoughtful look, trying to pick out a good spot to paint over.

//There're a lot of mixed feelings behind this one.//

"Tell me about them," Hannibal suggested. Telepathically, if you're worried about the students hearing, he thought Jono's way.

Jono paused at that, and then nodded, and in an aside for only Hannibal to hear, he said, //The New Warriors... I don't think you really got to see me while I was in my New Warriors phase. Or the mess I was before it. But they gave me back my dignity at a time when I didn't have much of me left. Helped me to figure out a bit of who it was I needed to be at the time.//

Edited 2015-12-03 02:13 (UTC)

They gave you a family, Hannibal thought back. When the team you had abandoned you, they welcomed you in.

//That,// Jono agreed, //and more. Got my collar through them. I was stripped of my free will and then I was stripped of my powers and then I was violated again, grabbed right out of my hospital bed, and my head wasn't on right and I was ready to give up. And they... they gave me a reason not to. A group of people who could at least guess at where I was coming from. Some of them were people I already knew and trusted. Some had been students during my first stint teaching in New York. We were all looking for the same thing.//

A purpose, Hannibal said. A reason to exist and a way to live.

Jono just nodded at that, suddenly very interested in a patch of wall that had all manner of obscenities scrawled across it.

//We'd all lost that, somehow. We'd all lost a part of ourselves, our identities, and we needed some sort of justification for existing. Some reminder that we could still make something of ourselves, do some good in the world.//

And you found it, for a time. Why did you leave them? Hannibal asked. Glacia?

Creative Inspirations | Monday, period one

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