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Nov 15, 2014 22:58:48 GMT
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Post by x on Aug 2, 2014 12:38:06 GMT
She didn’t quite believe him, not that Charles could exactly fault her for that; had their positions been reversed, Charles would have had a hard time believing he wasn’t half as screwed up as he feared, too. So many minds, so much power from such a young age...Charles hadn’t had many options at his disposal when he was manifesting. It was either learn to control it or go insane trying. And there was little he feared more than one day losing control entirely and his telepathy turning against him, as it was so easy to do.
“Wait, shielding? You sayin’ I could shield others out?”
Charles nodded as he pushed himself into the lift.
“Yes," he confirmed. "With a bit of training and practice, you would be able to better handle being around more and more people—something of a necessity in this day and age, I’m afraid. Humans are very social creatures, and we mutants are no exception. We need community to get on successfully in life, so proper shielding is a very useful tool.”
“How’d you learn to block others out,” Lana asked, curiosity as to his training methods coloring her words. “And just so ya know, I won’t try to dig too deep again. If, ya know, it’s hard to keep up or somethin’.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I shield near constantly,” Charles assured, hitting the button to take them up to the older students’ dormitories. “If I didn’t, I would have likely gone insane years ago. So many minds, so many thoughts...shielding really is the only option I have on a daily basis. As such, it isn’t as draining as you may think, at least not for me, and it’s become reflex, second nature.”
He did make a point to lower the intensity of his shielding, however, and returned it to normal levels. Not that he was overly worried; it would take a telepath of far greater strength and skill than Lana to truly take him by surprise.
As for how he learned to shield...well, he didn’t quite know how to explain that. His powers had been present since birth, but only in a small, basic form. They had grown and expanded without his intention or consent until he’d had a final and massive ‘growth spurt’ at only nine years old. He’d spent no less than a week in his room, clutching a pillow over his head and biting back screams as the dim voices he’d always heard increased into a deafening roar. It had been shield or die, his hand forced and it had been nothing short of a miracle that Charles had managed a functioning shield at all.
“Though, I wouldn’t quite recommend how I learned to shield; it was all quite sudden, something of a sink-or-swim sort of situation, with an equal chance of both success and failure,” Charles said as the lift moved. “For you, I would recommend beginning by envisioning a wall between your and the world around you. A glass wall, preferably; the goal is to make crowds more tolerable not to isolate yourself from the world, after all. It will take time to perfect and strengthen, but I’ve found visualization to be a rather effective tool.”
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Nov 15, 2014 22:58:48 GMT
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Post by x on Aug 2, 2014 3:57:29 GMT
“I’m sure she is up to all sorts of trouble while you are away,” Magda teased. “I even believe there is a saying. I forget most of it. Something about the cat being away and the mice enjoying the time to be free?”
He laughed and nodded. “Yes, ‘while the cat is away, the mice will play,’ is the full saying, I believe.”
“Do you cook,” she asked as she led him into her kitchen. “Is there anything you will not eat, or cannot eat?”
Charles offered up a sheepish grin. “I can, but not all that well, I’m afraid. Raven and I live off of take out more often than not. As for dietary restrictions, I haven’t come across any. As of yet, at any rate.”
He could feel her sense of pride when it came to food; unsurprising, given her background. Charles allowed himself to bask in her pride and contentment. He always enjoyed being around people when they spoke on or engaged in an activity or a subject they thoroughly enjoyed. The energy they gave off was exhilarating and if he wasn’t careful, he could come off with a sort of contact-high. But it was such a wonderful feeling; if it could be bottled and sold as a drug, no doubt Charles would have surrendered to it long ago.
“I take it you enjoy cooking?”
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Post by x on Aug 2, 2014 3:28:52 GMT
Charles gave her a semi-chastising look at her response to his comments. However, it was a conversation to have at a later date, when Lana was properly settled and much more comfortable in the school. He had to pick his battles, after all, and Lana using humans for her own ends wasn’t the absolute worst she could be doing.
“I only really knew how ta control people,” Lana explained as they made their way down the hallway, “read people, too. But when I panicked or got scared, I lost control. Made everyone feel it. Built up a few angry mobs back in the day.”
Her voice was light, joking, even, but Charles could sense the darker undercurrents. He remembered far too well when he used to lose control. There had been times when his nightmares had made half the county pass out, save for one of the maids who had a latent mutation that made her able to resist his telepathy. Not that she knew, of course, and Charles had never said a word of it to her.
“I didn’t even know I could get control ‘til he showed me,” she continued. “Threw a knife at me head! Right ‘ere,” Lana exclaimed, gesturing to her head.
Charles offered half a smile in weak amusement; Erik always had been one for more risky training. He still remembered teaching Sean how to fly. "Allow me." The telepath shivered a bit, recalling Erik’s grin and his confidence that Charles was thinking the same. He quickly cut that train of thought off; it wouldn’t do to get misty-eyed in front of a new student, and besides, what could would his mourning do? Erik and Raven hadn’t even bothered to get him to a hospital, leaving him to die on that beach, for all they knew.
“I thought he was gonna kill me, but after a while I begin to get it,” the empath finished, and Charles simply nodded in understanding.
"So I don't really know what I want ta learn. I don't' know what else I can do. Have ya ever met anyone like me? Someone who is so screwed up we can't even turn our powers off? It's like . . . . Everyone's always there in a way. I have to stop and think, Is this me, or is this someone's else mood I'm getting? I have to dig myself out of everyone else."
Oh god, it was almost like talking with a younger version of himself. I’m hungry, but I just had lunch; I’m tired, but it’s midday; I’m sad, but I don’t know why. Early childhood had been a nightmare, trying to separate his own thoughts and emotions from those around him. What made it worse was that he, much like Lana, was simply incapable of turning his abilities on and off like a tap. All attempts to do so never ended well.
“Firstly, Lana,” Charles said as they reached the elevator, his voice firm with conviction, “you are not ‘screwed up.’ Your abilities are not meant to be turned off any more than mine are; to try to shut them off would be akin to gouging our eyes out. It’s not so much a party trick as it is a sort of limb, an appendage, something that is inherently part of who you are and its removal would be detrimental to your health.”
It was something Charles had to remind himself of constantly. His telepathy was as much a part of him as Raven’s natural blue skin was a part of her. Unlike her, however, he couldn’t change it, couldn’t hide it, couldn’t choose to set his telepathy down for a moment. He always had to be vigilant, he couldn’t let his guard down, and he had to keep his shields up. No rest for the wicked, it seemed.
“Secondly, I understand your predicament quite well," he offered as he hit the button to summon the lift. "I had many of the same problems with my telepathy when I was a child, and even now there are moments when I lose track of whose thoughts are whose. It will take a great deal of work, but improving your shielding will certainly help lessen the frequency of such confusion.”
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Post by x on Aug 2, 2014 2:59:05 GMT
Much more nocturnal for me; I can go for hours without realizing how late it's gotten. (Magda and Erik, you can attest to this. xD)
Physical book or e-book?
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Post by x on Aug 1, 2014 2:24:07 GMT
“I think I would love to see your dormitories—Oh shite!” Lana jumped from her chair and bolted to the door, shouting at him to wait a moment.
Charles afforded himself a moment of surprise, before recalling the human boy Lana had been manipulating into giving her a ride north. He sighed a bit and shook his head after she’d fled his office. They would have to have a discussion about that, but he would let it slide just this once. Instead, he reached out to the young man’s mind and did a wee bit of damage control before letting him go on his way. Oh, but she did thank him, which Charles would happily count as a small victory.
“I had to ditch the human before he caught on,” Lana said as she re-entered the room, possessing the good grace to act a bit sheepish of her actions. “So, the dormitories, yeah?”
“Now, Lana, he was a perfectly nice young man,” Charles said as he wheeled himself away from his desk. “In fact, you may encounter him again. His cousin is one of my students, correct?”
Charles made a point of keeping any family involved who obviously cared for their mutant child, especially if the child in question also wanted to keep in contact. He and a number of the older mutants may have had rather lackluster childhoods and home lives, all things considered, but that did not have to mean that the younger children couldn’t be luckier.
“And yes,” he confirmed, giving her a reassuring smile. “If you will so kind as to follow me, I will show you to where we currently house the older students. There are several rooms currently available, so you will be able to pick one. Now, if I may ask, what—other than shielding—are you most interested in learning with regards to your powers?”
The older students all had their own needs, some of which were obvious to them and others that were only revealed through time and training. A student with cryokinesis, for example, would require a different training focus than a student who could breathe underwater.
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Post by x on Aug 1, 2014 1:03:34 GMT
“This sounds like a lovely opportunity for me to explore my powers and build a greater understanding of them,” Lana responded, sitting with her legs crossed and mimicking his accent to near perfection. “I think it sounds just swimming! Please do call me Lana, as I plan to do my upmost to assure we become friends.”
Charles laughed a bit, thoroughly amused by her response; a part of her reminded him so very much of Raven, who used to mock him mercilessly whenever she decided that he was taking himself too seriously. Surprisingly, the resemblance didn’t drive a metaphorical dagger into his heart. Instead, he let himself relax a bit, loosening his shields just a hair, just enough so that she could use her abilities to get a read on his emotions but not enough for her to actually manipulate or rummage around them.
“That was a lovely impression, Lana, my dear,” he said with a smile. “I’ve heard many in my lifetime and yours was nearly to a tee. Is there any business you wish to finish before settling in here, or would you rather I show you to the dormitories and give you a chance to relax?”
He had to admit, Lana was beginning to grow on him; she was perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but she meant well and had a truly lovely mind. Given time and a bit of guidance, Charles had no doubt that she would be able to gain full mastery of her mutation and carve out a good life for herself wherever she so chose.
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Post by x on Jul 31, 2014 21:37:33 GMT
“Broke into your kitchen?” Magda was clearly confused, and Charles quickly recalled his previous interactions with her and realized that he had not, in fact, informed her that Raven was his sister by choice rather than blood. “You found her? She is not of your blood?”
“Ah, yes,” Charles responded with a sheepish grin. “I suppose I did forget to mention that, didn't I?”
“I think this is a story I should hear while cooking,” Magda decided, and Charles nodded in agreement. “Is your sister close? She could join us.”
“I’m afraid she’s back at Oxford,” he answered with a small grimace. “Actually, she’s all too eager to be rid of me for the week. Something about staying out late and drinking as she pleases while her old fart of a brother wastes his youth listening to boring lectures.” He laughed a bit at the memory, Raven all but shoving him out the door with that teasing smirk of hers on her face. “And yes, perhaps starting dinner would be a good idea. Is there anything you’d like for me to help with?”
Charles stood up as he asked. While he may be her guest, he did believe in helping as much as he was able. No such thing as a free lunch and all that.
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Post by x on Jul 31, 2014 21:25:19 GMT
“I ain’t gonna hurt no kids,” Lana insisted, “cross mi heart. You’re in my head; you should be able to see that. I don’t hurt people. It’s why I left the others. I can feel what everyone around me is feeling. I can’t turn it off. That makes hurting others a bit like self-harm for me.”
So she was an empath. Likely a powerful one as well, if her abilities where strong enough to make work for the Brotherhood an impossibility for her. In many ways, her empathic abilities were very likely a great deal similar to his own telepathy. Charles wondered for a moment what she might become with a bit more training. Perhaps she’d benefit from learning how to shield herself a bit from the world around her; how good was her shielding, to begin with? It obviously had room for improvement given her descriptions. While the last thing he wanted was to equip her with the means to actively hurt others, he wouldn’t knock the necessity of being able to defend one’s self. If Lana’s abilities prevented her from being able to protect herself when she actually needed it, then improving her shielding abilities would be vital to her survival.
“Yeah, I get it. It’s something I’ve heard a few times, too. Though I’m not really in their head. Just playing with their moods.”
“While I am ‘in your head,’ Ms. Kane, I do try to refrain from doing more than skimming the surface,” he explained. “I will admit my recent history may have made me overly cautious, and I sincerely apologize if I’ve offered you any offense.”
“You offerin’ ta let me stay here?” Lana’s surprise was fairly obvious, as though she didn’t expect to be given such a chance. “...I ain’t got any money.”
“Well, as you will likely not be enrolling as an official student—though do correct me if you would rather be one—money wouldn’t be much of an issue. As I said, this school doubles as a safe haven. We’re not exactly hurting for money here, and I’m much more interested in ensuring that those like us have a safe place they can come to, regardless of their socioeconomic statuses.”
“You teach me to get around shields?” Like a helmet, her mind added, and Charles felt a sharp stab of sympathy. “Just ta be clear, I ain’t wanting ta learn to hurt anyone, but when I left the Brotherhood, I sort of left them hanging. I’d rather know to protect myself, yeah? You would do that?”
Charles nodded. “I would do my upmost to aid you in furthering your abilities. Personally, I’m very glad you’ve no desire to bring harm to others—I think we stand to get along swimmingly,” he added with a smile. “As for getting around shields, I will do my best to teach you both how to get through them and how to utilize them for your own protection. There are some shields not even I can get through, such as Erik’s helmet, or perhaps even Emma’s diamond form.”
Actually, he was certain he could break through Emma’s diamond form like cheap glass if he focused his power enough. But that led him down certain trails of though he had no desire to pursue, and so he tended not to think too deeply about it.
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Post by x on Jul 30, 2014 3:05:02 GMT
“You’d take in your enemies?”
Charles sighed. He didn’t care for thinking of Erik and Raven—and all of the mutants they recruited to their Brotherhood—as enemies. There was a piece of him (a tiny, fragile thing that was such one stray breeze away from crumbling into dust) that still hoped they’d come back to the estate and help him guide and shape the rising generation of mutants.
“Former being the keyword, yeah,” Lana continued. “When he got locked up, I decided it was time ta find my own way. Sort of laying low from them right now.”
He repressed a wince at the off-hand mention of Erik. The so-called ‘magic bullet’ had been a devastating blow to weather. Kennedy had been a potential ally of the mutant cause, a good man who was so willing to help further civil rights for blacks, who Charles had been so sure would offer mutants the same sort of courtesy. The loss of such a good man would be one that would haunt the nation for generations to come. And it seemed, devastatingly so, that Erik was to blame for it all.
Still, if Lana wished to stay off the Brotherhood’s radar, there would be few places better for her than here. Lord knows anyone in the Brotherhood who had ever cared about him at all had left him and the boys stranded on a bloody beach with a broken submarine, a wrecked airplane, and at the mercy of two hostile navies. Charles had lost consciousness from shock and blood loss hardly twenty minutes after Erik and Raven left, and he didn’t wish to know how long exactly it had taken them to leave Cuba. He’d lost nearly a full year of his life to morphine and numerous surgeries, and he would still never be able to walk again. As much as it hurt, Erik and Raven had made it clear that Charles meant little to them in the grand scheme of things. Nothing left to do but take a deep breath and try to move forward.
“I am willing to take in any mutant who desires a safe haven. The only stipulation I have is that he or she refrain from harming the children.” And God help the poor sods who thought they could get away with attacking innocent children. “Erik and Raven may view the world in stark black-and-white, but I can’t help but see the shades of gray. And I can’t turn away a mutant in need without valid reason.”
“How do you do that thing ta keep me out?”
He chuckled a bit. “Years of practice, it would seem. One of the first things a telepath tends to hear when they reveal their mutation is something to the effect of ‘Stay out of my head.’ Or rather, that’s been my experience. Raven and Erik were both rather insistent in their own ways that I refrain from using my telepathy with regards to their own minds.”
Not that it needed to really be said; Charles had manners, after all. He tried rather hard not to intrude too deeply into another’s mind. Even he was capable of making mistakes. He especially made a great many mistakes.
“I’ve had years to develop my shielding techniques, Ms. Kane. Though, I can teach you how to construct your own, if you would be interested?”
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Post by x on Jul 30, 2014 2:40:41 GMT
“I fear you might be right,” Magda admitted, and Charles caught flashes of her memories. “I was in Poland when my family was taken to camp called Auschwitz.”
A Holocaust survivor. Poor Magda really had seen the worst of human nature, hadn’t she?
“We were different, you see,” she continued. “Not mutant, but not what they saw as normal. My greatest fear is ending up there again, or somewhere similar. Because I can change my name, and my life, but I am still different. I was eleven when I was there, and I’ve spent my life trying to avoid going back.”
Charles would be the first to admit that humanity was as capable of all the horrors of hell just as they were of the most wonderful miracles. He was a telepath; he was privy to both the darkest, most depraved thoughts of humanity as well as the ones that shone with love and care and compassion. And yet, he still found himself left aghast when confronted with those dark, terrible thoughts. Humanity could be so much better, so much more, that it pained him to see them fall short of such wonder.
“Your sister seems like she has it harder than yourself,” Magda said, changing the subject and Charles let her. He honestly had no idea what to say to give her hope that humanity would learn its lesson. “She is lucky to have a brother who cares for her. Do mutants run in families?”
“In many ways, I suppose she does,” Charles admitted. “In others, there may be room for debate. It all depends on one’s perspective. And really, of the two of us, I do believe I’m the lucky one. Of all the kitchens in Westchester, she broke into mine. I shudder to think of what may have become of us if we hadn’t found each other that night.”
It wasn’t a pleasant line of thought and as such, he tried to stray from it as much as he could. Raven had found his kitchen and that was what truly mattered.
“As for mutations running in families,” Charles continued, “I do believe that would be the case. Exactly how that would occur, I haven’t yet been able to determine. I’m the only mutant in my biological family—that I’m aware of—and I haven’t met others, so my data pool is a bit slim, however I do have a wealth of historical evidence that would indicate the heritability of genetic mutations such as ours.”
It was actually an interesting idea. While marriage and children was something Charles intended for later in his life, perhaps after he’d acquired his PhD in genetics and gotten a stable teaching position, it wasn’t something that fully or frequently occupied his mind. Would any children he might one day father have a genetic mutation such as his? Would they be telepaths as well, or develop another sort of mutation? How similar would their mutations be to his own?
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Post by x on Jul 29, 2014 21:28:48 GMT
He had to admit that she was persistent, given that she was still trying to get back into his head. She wasn’t a full-on telepath, he’d wager, but perhaps more of an empath? He wondered about the full extent of her powers, the amount of control she had over what her abilities. Certainly, she had enough control to con a nice boy into giving her a ride, and enough to rummage around in his own emotions, but was that the extent of what she could do, or had she merely scratched the surface?
The suspicion of who he was and where she was bleed out to him, and only grew stronger when she noticed his slight discomfort. He bit back a sigh when she got up and leaned over his desk, just enough to catch sight of the wheelchair. The surprise and a host of other emotions all muddled together hit him full force as she took in where exactly she’d ended up.
“You’re Xavier?”
He caught snatches of fear and concern, glimpses of her recent past—one of Erik’s, then, but apparently she’d learned that the Brotherhood was no place for an empath—and felt his heart clench at the flashes he got of Erik and Raven.
“Ya know, maybe I shouldn’t be here,” she said, inching towards the door.
“No, Ms. Kane, you are perfectly welcome here, regardless of your recent history.”
He didn’t agree with Erik’s views. For him, violent reaction was not only an undesirable option, but a completely impossible one. His telepathy ensured that he could never fully turn against the world, even if he desperately wanted to. As far as he was concerned, humans could be reasoned with. Progress could be made without excessive bloodshed and loss of life. However, for all of his disagreements with Erik’s path, he would not drive anyway anyone seeking sanctuary so long as they would not bring harm to his students. Despite her blatant manipulation of that nice young man and her immediate accessing of his emotions, Charles had yet to glean any sort of particularly malicious intent.
“Former Brotherhood member or not, so long as you refrain from doing the students any harm, you will always have a place here for as long as you may require.”
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Post by x on Jul 28, 2014 0:46:47 GMT
The relief and hope that flooded Erik’s mind nearly made Charles go lax with contentment. He’d never felt a mind so deeply before; was it just that Erik was a mutant, or was it simply the adrenaline still working its way through his veins? Charles would have to think more on it later, as he had to focus on not melting into a metaphorical puddle from all of the hope and comfort Erik was projecting.
They climbed back onto the ship, and Moira and Platt were waiting with blankets and towels to stave off any traces of hypothermia. It was a bit pleasing to know that the CIA operatives weren’t completely hopeless. Rare bits of fool’s gold, they were. But Charles was in a significantly better mood, his mind curling up against Erik’s like an old house cat against a heater.
“Who are you all,” Erik asked, and it took Charles a moment to pull himself out of Erik’s mind long enough to realize he hadn’t actually introduced himself.
“Apologies,” he said, holding out his hand as he paused in toweling himself off. “My name is Charles Xavier. They,” he gestured, “are Agents Platt and MacTaggert. CIA.”
Which he still didn’t particularly care for, but needs must. They weren’t completely without their uses; they had led him straight to Erik, after all.
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Post by x on Jul 28, 2014 0:28:43 GMT
“I’m a little old for school,” she responded, taking a seat across from his desk. “I was trying ta catch a ride north. He had to stop here, so I did, too.”
He could feel her in his head, trying to make him laugh while she rummaged around his darker emotions. While he hardly wanted to give the message that she shouldn’t use her powers, he was also very much aware of what his darker emotions would mean. And so, he slammed his mental shields into place, all but throwing her out of his mind.
Apologies, Ms. Kane, but I must ask you to refrain from attempting to access my darker emotions.
“Whot is this place?”
“It can be argued otherwise,” Charles answered with a smile. “After all, one never really stops learning, does one? And as for this place, officially it’s a school. While that is the primary purpose and a great deal of work goes into to maintaining that function, we also seek to be a safe haven for mutants.”
He shifted a bit in his chair, attempting to alleviate the dull ache in his back.
“Not all of the mutants here are here as students,” he continued. “Some are only passing through and asked for shelter. As long as I can assure that no harm will come to the children, they are welcome to stay for as long as they may need.”
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Post by x on Jul 28, 2014 0:17:49 GMT
“You seem very fond of her,” Magda said with a smile. “You two are very lucky to not have to do this alone.”
Charles had to agree; sometimes he’d wonder where he and Raven would be if their paths hadn’t converged that fateful night in his kitchen. Over the years, he had come up with a number of different scenarios, but none of them were particularly pleasant for either of them. “Lucky” was really the only word to describe Raven and himself; they were certainly lucky to have found each other.
Other mutants were likely less lucky in how their lives had gone; Magda was probably just one story out of hundreds. How many of their kind had been born to lower classes than he, or born to war-torn countries or families who considered their existence a liability rather than an asset? It was part of the reason he wanted so badly to raise public awareness about mutation, to make it so that any mutant, regardless of the circumstances of his or her birth, could have a shot at a better life.
So he smiled, thoughts returning to Raven. His beloved little sister with an extraordinary mutation, who he feared constantly would be discovered and taken away from him. He wasn’t naïve; he was well aware of what the public reaction would be to her natural blue form. The very idea of her being discovered before the seeds for public understanding were at the very least sown was a reoccurring theme in his worst nightmares.
“I am,” he responded. “For the longest time, it’s been just her and me. Her mutation is fantastic, and her natural form is striking, but I fear constantly what a premature discovery could mean for her. As much as I hope for the contrary, I doubt the general public would be as awed by her as I am.”
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Post by x on Jul 27, 2014 23:52:10 GMT
1. Sherlock (BBC)
2. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
3. Downton Abbey
4. Doctor Who
5. Da Vinci's Demons
Question: Small town or big city?
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Post by x on Jul 27, 2014 16:56:32 GMT
Top three favorite actors? Hmm...that's a tough one. Sir Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen tie for first place, James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender tie for second place, and Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman tie for third place. (Actresses are another ballgame entirely. xD)
Question: Preferred type of weather?
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Post by x on Jul 26, 2014 16:13:51 GMT
Charles hadn’t left Erik’s mind, clinging to it like a piece of driftwood in a shipwreck. He gleaned Erik’s history from his mind. The man was a survivor of the Holocaust, it seemed, and had a history with Shaw that went all the way back to those dark days. Charles frowned at the sheer amount of abuse Shaw had put Erik through; it reminded him far too much of the sort of slimy ambition he’d seen in Kurt before he’d forced the man away from Westchester indefinitely.
In other words, Charles had a few ideas about what he was going to do with Shaw’s mind once he got a hold of it.
“I thought I was alone,” Erik gasped out, his voice and mind much calmer than when Charles had first gone in after him.
So had he. Realistically, he had known there really wasn’t anyway he could be utterly alone in the world, and tonight had been the zenith of all of his wildest fantasies. Not only he was he assuredly not the only mutant in existence, but he wasn’t even the only telepath. Even if their precise talents were different, Frost was still a powerful telepath in her own right. He would certainly relish the opportunity to pick her brain, as it were.
“You’re not alone, Erik,” he assured with a nearly feral grin. “You are not alone.”
For better or for worse, there could be no more turning back. Erik validated every hypothesis that Charles had ever had involving the mutant brain. Even for all of its humanity, Charles had never seen a more beautiful sight. It was actually rather like looking into the sun.
The Coast Guard ship finally reached them, and the CIA operatives threw down a couple of life preservers firmly affixed to ropes. Charles grabbed one and shoved the other in Erik’s direction.
“Shall we?”
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Post by x on Jul 26, 2014 15:28:19 GMT
Erik clarified his meaning, and Charles worried his bottom lip.
“And you cannot confidently tell me that that was not the reason,” he pointed out. “You cannot ignore the possibility of it, Charles. You say that there are many variables to consider, and you are right. But there is also the chance that whoever did kill Kennedy did so because he was a mutant.”
Charles swallowed and conceded that point. At the same time, however, he was unwilling to accept one possible explanation of some of the facts when it was just as likely that another, better option existed. It was a habit ingrained into his very psyche from years in academia.
“Regardless of the killer’s motivations,” Erik continued, “I intervened because the President was a mutant. And the authorities found it convenient and easy for them to blame a mutant for his murder. I lost a decade of my life because of that.”
It wasn’t a point Charles could exactly refute, though the implications behind Erik’s words were not ones Charles truly wanted to consider. Kennedy could have been a valuable ally in gaining mutant rights; Charles had wanted to meet with him in order to discuss the future of mutants in the United States, and eventually the world itself. Kennedy had been a good man, and Charles had held out hope that he would have been willing to assist mutants in the same ways he was willing to assist African Americans.
“A miscarriage of justice, Erik, and I will freely admit that,” he conceded, looking Erik in the eye. “Your sentencing and mockery of a trial pains me greatly. At the same time, however, we cannot return suspicion and reaction with more of the same. All that will lead to is an endless cycle of grievances and violence and undue bloodshed.”
Charles could sympathize with the anger and the fear; he hadn’t forgotten his own childhood, the pain and rage he’d experienced as a child. If it hadn’t been for Raven, perhaps he would have gladly gone with Erik, would have gladly gone against the world and may have even taken pleasure in watching it burn. But there was no use considering alternative realities.
“Please, Erik, if we want a better future for mutantkind, we have to break that cycle.”
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Nov 15, 2014 22:58:48 GMT
Tag me @professorx
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Post by x on Jul 26, 2014 14:57:35 GMT
“I liked the name Isabelle,” Magda responded, “it seemed both common and different. Then I took his name as my family name...the other like you.”
Charles nodded in comprehension. Very few actually picked new names at random; there was always some sort of symbolism or personal meaning to the names taken. The concept of identity may be one that could remain constantly in flux—having a shape-shifter for a sister had taught him that—but there was still a core element to who one was that affected all other decisions made.
“It didn’t end well,” she continued, “but I...I loved him very much. It seemed like a way to keep him close, since he would not let me be a part of his life.”
His heart went out to her, it truly did. It was a difficult subject for her, no doubt, if the emotions rolling off of her were any indication.
“I apologize if you are looking for something charming or happy. Most of my stories do not end well,” Magda offered, giving him a thin, forced smile.
He gave her as comforting a smile as he could in response. Charles honestly didn’t expect happy stories for the majority of mutants; not all of them could be as lucky as he had been, having grown up in a semi-stable home, or as Raven had been, picking the kitchen of a sympathetic little boy that fateful night.
“Tell me of you, Mr. Xavier,” she asked, switching the focus of the conversation back to him. “How does one come to know so much, but not having met many?”
“Well, firstly, if I can call you Magda, then you are perfectly welcome to call me Charles,” he began with a smile. “And as for what I know, well, a great deal of it is taken from genetic mutation in its historical context and with no small amount of filling in the gaps. Mother Nature has strange ways of working her will, it seems; when a species is primed to make the next jump on their evolutionary ladder, it’s never simply one mutated specimen. True, it is entirely likely that all mutants can trace their roots back to one particular common ancestor—our own genetic Adam and Eve, if you will—but according to my research, the sorts of mutations that we possess were jumpstarted by the onset of the nuclear age. In other words, either we ourselves were exposed to excess radiation or one of our ancestors were.”
Perhaps it was even a combination of both, in the case of some. Charles tried not to think of his own childhood, of the lab and the needles and the pain.
“My apologies; I can get a bit carried away when discussing mutation and evolution.” He chuckled a bit at it. “Raven complains relentlessly about it, actually.”
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Nov 15, 2014 22:58:48 GMT
Tag me @professorx
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Post by x on Jul 26, 2014 14:10:09 GMT
“Just like old times,” Erik quipped, his tone light, as he looked at the set-up.
Charles gave a brief nod as he shifted in his chair. That was the plan; best to have a discussion of this nature in a relatively casual setting. Charles had no illusions that, at some point, there would be a myriad of disagreements. Erik was an aggressive man at the best of times, and Charles was well aware he could be just as stubborn. He was a pacifist by nature, but he was by no means a push-over. But this had to be different. They had to find enough middle ground to stand on.
Erik poured the drinks and took his place by the black pieces as Charles pushed himself over to the white side of the chessboard. While he tried to be was quick and graceless as possible, positioning the wheelchair took far longer than he would have liked, and it was all he could do to keep his face from burning in shame. There was no reason to feel at all embarrassed or ashamed before Erik, especially not for this, but Charles had always hated the chair. Hated what it meant, what its presence meant he could no longer do. Making the decision to go back to it had been one of the hardest he’d ever been forced to make. (But it felt like he was throwing it all in Erik’s face, when that was the last thing he wanted to do. He should have gotten himself set up before Erik arrived, but he’d wanted Erik to have his pick of which side he’d play.)
“I see that you are reopening the school,” Erik offered, providing the beginnings of what could hopefully be considering a fairly neutral topic between them.
“Yes,” Charles confirmed, taking his drink and settling himself behind the white pieces. “I’ve been going through the lists Hank and I made before, trying to locate qualified instructors who haven’t been taken by the draft and aren’t likely to be. It’s more than a bit challenging; the majority of those I’ve located are women and more than a handful are reluctant to give up the posts they worked so hard to earn in order to teach here.”
It was a sentiment he could understand; while he’d never been a woman, he’d known a number of female colleagues who had to struggle and fight for everything that was practically a given for him. He’d had a few agree, but he needed more than a few instructors to get the school back up and fully operational.
“Potential students are much easier to find,” he continued, opening the game by moving a pawn forward. “Most parents find themselves unerring grateful for the opportunities that the school can provide.”
In fact, the majority of them were simply people who had no clue how to deal with the fact that their daughter could fry the wiring or that their son could levitate and therefore were perfectly happy to send them to somebody who did. They weren’t cruel people, not all of them, and a good many of them still loved their children dearly, but mutation wasn’t something they were equipped to deal with. That had been something Charles had aspired to change, when he was still young and naïve and an idiot of epic proportions. It was something he still hoped to change, if he could get Congress to cooperate with him.
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