[@Lightning Fast]

[center][h1][color=228b22]Shimon[/color]
+
[color=f7976a]Dante[/color][/h1][/center]

Shimon entered the room known as the Board, where various mutants chatted amongst themselves about their past, present and future contracts. Silvermist mutants, in exchange for room, board and legal protection, were expected to contribute to the wellbeing of Western and Central Europe by answering calls for aid. While not the only one of its kind, Silvermist Academy was the largest mutant-oriented institution that Shimon knew of. Which meant the largest mutant organization in the world was essentially a mercenary company. Shimon wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Granted, not all the work they did was of a violent sort. Shimon himself rarely went on combat missions, as his brutish style tended to frighten people he was trying to help. Besides, his more impressive and useful powers were the ones which aided in the growth of vegetation. Shimon had solved a number of minor famines single-handedly, and frankly, starving peasants didn’t much care where their food came from so long as their bellies were full. He silently sorted through the papers, looking for a job that suited him.

Dante’s footsteps echoed through the vast halls.  Each step reflected his own heartbeat as he tried to focus.  [i]One foot after the next.  Look down.  Don’t draw attention.  Be [b]normal[/b][/i].  His breathing began to get short and his steps much faster.  The air seemed dense, shrinking around him.  An internal pressure seemed to close it’s hands around his throat, squeezing with a gradual force that he couldn’t shake.  As students passed, he tried to hide his struggle, turning his shoulder outward, cowering behind his own silhouette.  Each wheeze was more effort, more panic.  His eyes were hot and yet they were drowning in his own puddled tears.  He finally turned the first corner available to him and gasped out an audible breath that sounded like it had fought a years long war just to exist.

He focused on his feet, on the ground, on relative quiet.  He breathed.  He willed it.  Slowly he found his breathe and his muscles began to unclench.  A sort of soothing overwhelmed his body as oxygen made its way back through his system.  Through blurred vision, he looked around.  His eyes fell on the only movement he immediately noticed.

“[color=f7976a]Sorry…[/color]” he began, his gasps lessening with each passing second.  “[color=f7976a]Any, uh… Any good… huh… leads?[/color]”  The water in his eyes began to evenly distribute and the person before him slowly came into focus.

The green giant looked down at this more ordinary-looking man, a new arrival who’d come into the Board looking rather shaken. He was tall, to be sure, although still dwarfed by the plant mutant. The man seemed to be breathing heavily, which did concern Shimon. “[color=228b22]... You okay? You look as if you’ve seen something even scarier than me,[/color]” he joked, his suppressed accent shining through, “Or is it the big green guy freaking you out?”

“[color=f7976a]Meh,[/color]” Dante grunted with a wave of his hand, attempting to dismiss any questions about the matter.  You’d think such a fantastical sight would send any man screaming.  Whether or a curse of a blessing, Dante had seen this sort of thing for years now.  Despite that, he still managed to silently revel at his schoolmate’s size and composure.  “[color=f7976a]It’s nothing,[/color]” he finally declared.  “[color=f7976a]Happens sometimes.  What’s on the docket?[/color]”  His last question sounded more like an order, his tone becoming authoritative, determined to change the subject.

As he looked at his peer, he began the inevitable process of sizing him up.  Everyone here could do something and that could do it more spectacularly than anyone else on the planet.  As Dante took in the visual clues, it was not hard to imagine the nature of this person’s assets, for this person’s assets was, largely, nature.

Shimon glanced down at Dante, fully turning around to face him even as he shuffled through the papers. “[color=228b22]I mostly deal with famine-related fieldwork. When I do fieldwork at all, that is. Plants, crops...[/color]” Shimon paused, smirking, “[color=228b22]You might be able to guess, that’s sort of my thing. Yourself?[/color]”

“[color=f7976a]I do a different sort of thing,[/color]” he answered matter of factly while shuffling over to the contract offerings. He didn’t look up or even extend a welcoming hand.  As he glanced through the text he just simply said aloud, “[color=f7976a]Dante.  You?[/color]”

“[color=228b22]Sh-... Simon,[/color]” Shimon replied, “[color=228b22]Simon. I think I’ve seen you around once or twice, but I don’t believe we’ve met.[/color]” The hulking creature gestured towards a set of tables where some of the other students were discussing contracts of their own. He carefully sat down in one of the metal chairs (taking care not to break it) and placed his stack of parchment and paper on the table. “[color=228b22]More dangerous contracts, then? Real fighty stuff?[/color]”

“[color=f7976a]Hmph,[/color]” Dante huffed in return as he continued scanning the material as he sat. “[color=f7976a]I’ll do what I can,[/color]” he said finally.  In the back of his mind snapshots of past horrors flickered on and off.  With a clenched brow, he pushed those images aside and focused on the present.  “[color=f7976a]You could probably do well with the… fighty stuff,[/color]” he offered.  “[color=f7976a]You’re no shrimp and there’s a lot more money, most of the time.[/color]”  All the while, there was nothing he was reading that piqued his interest.  Nothing that said [i]Yes, this is it![/i].  His thin line of a mouth slowly formed into a frown of disappointment.

Shimon rolled his eyes, though he seemed more amused than frustrated. “[color=228b22]Money for clothes I can’t wear, food I don’t eat, and furniture I can’t use. I think I’m going to stick vit’ the safer jobs. And besides,[/color]” he continued, setting his papers down, “[color=228b22]They tend not to send me out on those missions unless there’s othe’ mutants to fight. No point in frightening a bunch of peasants into thinking a giant is attacking their town over some petty thieves. I know torches and pitchforks are cliche, but, velllll...[/color]” he gestured to the thick moss covering his chest, then motioned sticking himself with a sharp object, “[color=228b22]They also happen to be two of my least favourite things. If ‘dey vant some crook dead, someone a little more subtle ought to handle it.[/color]” As the green gentleman became more comfortable speaking with Dante, his accent appeared to show more and more. Speaking English was hard enough; Shimon wasn’t going to bother pretending to be a local if he didn’t have to. “[color=228b22]I just want to get out of this place every now and then, help a few people in the process. I get that some contracts need some blunt force behind them, but uh...[/color]” he gestures to himself, “[color=228b22]Most... ehhhhhn... they do not need this much.[/color]”

For a moment, Dante forgot himself and couldn’t help but chuckle.  Simon’s logic was charmingly flawless.  He envied and admired his outlook but became somber once more at the notion that such an outlook was out of his grasp.

“[color=f7976a]You do what you’ve got to do,[/color]” he said finally, his voice trailing toward the end.  His mind was too scattered.  He set aside the contracts and looked toward the nearly empty hallway.  In a tranced gaze, he surveyed the distant floor ahead, his eyes glossing over.  Sleepiness was beginning to take hold.  “[color=f7976a]Well…[/color]” he drolled.  “[color=f7976a]Simon.  Good to meet you.[/color]”  His expression remained blank as he stared one thousand yards away.  “[color=f7976a]I ought to be… going.[/color]”  The words struggled to make their way out as the young man was running out of steam.  The stress was taxing.  Off doing the will of a madman, trying to keep everything underwraps, pretending to act like everything was fine.  The void of slumber was beginning to call in response and Dante was finding it increasingly difficult to avoid it.  “[color=f7976a]We should get fighty with something, sometime,[/color]” he said finally.

Shimon frowned and nodded. “[color=228b22]I think... maybe you are someone who has done a bit too much fighting as of late.[/color]” Holding up a finger-analogue with one hand, Shimon held out his other hand flat as a series of white flowers began to sprout from it. Leaves and petals formed before Dante’s eyes, undergoing weeks of growth in mere seconds. “[color=228b22]An Egyptian plant, called chamomile. Grind up these leaves, place them in boiling water, drink the resulting broth. It will help you sleep. You look like you may need it.[/color]”

Dante looked to the earthly mutant initially with suspicion.  Many other students had an unhealthy appetite for competition and then here was this man in a tree’s skin offering him aid… for nothing.  Hesitantly, Dante reached for the herbs and plucked them, quickly looking up to gauge Simon’s reaction, silently hoping that he didn’t inflict any pain.  Satisfied, he stashed the plants in one of his pockets and gave a nod of respect to his new acquaintance. 

“[color=f7976a]That’s good of you,[/color]” he offered.  He sized the mutant up once more, still trying to accept his vast size.  “[color=f7976a]And you’re [i]sure[/i] you’re not into fighting?[/color]”  The pitch in his voice continued to escalate in disbelief.  “[color=f7976a]Well, thanks in any case.[/color]”

“[color=228b22]Only for the right cause,[/color]” Shimon replied, smiling as warmly as someone with a moss-covered face could, “You are very velcome, khaver.” And with that, he returned to looking at the contracts, muttering to himself in some combination of foreign languages.

With a wave that reflected less enthusiasm than his actual appreciation, Dante started back on his journey toward his sacred temple of solitude; his chambers.  [i]Well there you do,[/i] he thought.  [i]This year’s off to a different start…[/i]