Beyond Evolution

There were times at Xavier’s when each day held something new and unexpected, and the same standard often held sway long after the sun set. For three certain little creatures, each night of late was full of hurrying and scurrying for one simple reason- ( the Gremlins had started hoarding. )

King's life was essentially back to normal. His spring classes at NYU had started again, he was still substituting part-time for Kevin when he didn't have to be in the city, and he had X-Force and his new leadership position to really focus him. His session with Dr. Windsor had apparently been satisfactory, because after their little talk, he hadn't heard anything else yet about going in for further visits. Nico had been a constant presence in his life since he'd gotten back from visiting the carnival, and despite the misunderstanding with Ryan, things between them were good. A lot had changed for King recently, but it was all working out. He had it together. If there was one coping mechanism that King had learned at the school, it was compartmentalizing: as long as he had purpose and tasks in front of him, distractions, he would be fine. He just couldn't let himself think about all the fucked-up things shoved into the darkest recesses of his mind.

The problem was that ever since Prince had left, that was easier said than done.

They'd been separated once before, but never quite like this. His twin was off in some other dimension to fight Apocalypse's reign of terror, not just back at home, tucked safely away in their trailer. ( The only thing tying them together was the mood ring he now constantly wore on his index finger. )

[ Narrative. ]

Today was her first appointment with Cal. To say she was nervous was an understatement. She knew what was going to happen. This was the big day. No more waiting to find out what it was really like to be a full fledged mutant. The nightmares she had been having for the past week didn't really help that matter either. She always had the same dream. She was in a dark metal box, too small, too tight and outside of it came a large growl. Wooshing noises came next with the box starting to turn bright red, the dragon's fire heating the sides of the box. In every dream she screamed and woke in a scare. Ever since she found out she was a dragon mutant her normal nightmare of being locked in a small box had just increased to adding a dragon to the mix.

It just had to be nerves.

Showering and changing into some work out clothes, Vange said farewell to her roommate. She held a map in her hands following the explicit directions to get down to this "Danger Room". She didn't quite like the sound of the room but she was told it was a actually really cool place. Heading down, all she could think about was that nightmare and how her sneakers made squeeking noises on the linoleum. As she went further down the hallways the corridors changed. From warm and wood paneled walls came grey and metal ones. Following her map to a T she found herself going down a long hallway with an open circular door at the end.

Despite the noise her shoes made on the floor and the pure silence of the lower part of the school, Vange knocked on the side of the wall and peeked her head in. "Mr. Rankin?"

[Open to Cal]

To most people, it probably seemed like the only thing Matt focused on was school. And- generally, they were right. It wasn’t exactly out of any desire to not focus on anything else going on around him. More than anything it was purely a necessity in order for him to keep up, or preferably keep ahead, in two majors that were pretty much polar opposites of each other and have any hope of graduating on a standard four year timetable. Or graduating ahead of a standard four year timetable, as the urge was getting stronger and stronger to try and do. The regularly scheduled crisis and/or disaster and/or random event at Xavier’s generally tended to eat up any academic breathing room Matt ever gained, even with him often falling into the category of overachiever by most people’s standards.

Unfortunately, one of the problems with being an overachiever is that sometimes, you just darn near bite off more than you can chew. Which could possibly be the case with Matt’s academic load this semester. Somehow he’d basically forgotten about the independent project that was required for his advanced physics class. The moment he remembered was a merciful jolt of clarity while he was in one of the rehearsal rooms at NYU working on some new music for an upcoming concert. The sudden realization was so frustrating he literally did the equivalent of a headdesk into his music stand. And stayed in that exact position for about five minutes while his brain figured out what to do. The deadline was far enough away that he still had time to get something done, but close enough that he needed to come up with something now if he had any hopes of getting it done and getting it done right. Matt’s general standby was to delve into the good old Mythbusters catalog, but he’d already done that enough times already and honestly, the instructor for this particular class kind of hated them and just might give him an F on principle if he did anything having to do with them. So it was time to ask for help. And thankfully, having access to the faculty at Xavier’s provided him with the perfect resource. So there had been a few comments exchanged over the journals in which Matt had done his best not to sound too desperate, which he was sure he’d probably failed at. ( In any event, he was glad that Walter had agreed to help him out. )

Mutant. That wasn't a particular big word but it was a word that held a lot of weight. These days in this society and especially in New York, mutant wasn't a great word to be called. It didn't mean you were some special flower. It meant you were dangerous. And for Evangeline Whedon, that was dangerous with a capital D.

Evangeline was used to being average. She was just a normal girl at her high school who got decent grades and stayed out of trouble. She had a small group of friends and walked home by herself. Perhaps one of the most remarkable things about her was the fact that she knew all the phone numbers of Chinese Take-out by memory on the East side. Most of her days blended together in the end. Waking up, go to school, walk home, do homework, order take out since dad is working overtime again, go to bed and do it all over. But today wasn't going to be one of those days. In fact, today would be a day she wouldn't ever really forget.

On days like today, where it was cold but clear with no wind to speak of, Evangeline walked through the park on her way home. There was always something to be seen, always something to be appreciated whether it was the odd people you found walking beside you or the art from the kids looking to earn a dime off their talent. She was so familiar with this park it was as if she was a part of it. That's just the way she liked it. People rarely bothered her for more than a dollar or if they knew her. That being the case, she always took the time to day dream a little of life after all of this. Sure she loved her school, loved her over worked and rarely seen father, and her friends but there were days where she just wished that she could take control of her world and run away with it. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed and exited the park to her block. With the sun in her face Evangeline peered down the block to the entrance of her apartment complex. Squinting, she swore she could see someone waiting at the base of the stairs, looking at her. Shielding her eyes, she frowned and discovered that she was indeed correct. There was someone standing -- well, sitting in a wheel chair -- there facing towards her. Looking behind her, she saw no one else that the man could be looking at. Reaching into her coat, she weaved her keys in her fingers in case she had to use them and placed her other hand on her mace, ready to use.

( Now, don't think her unkind or anything, there was just always a paranoia that came along with New Yorkers. )

If pressed to figure it out, Jaya wouldn’t be able to say exactly what woke her up. But that was usually the case when finding yourself suddenly awake in the middle of the night when a lingering dream or obvious commotion of some kind wasn’t involved. All she knew was the slow, clumsy realization that always hits when you were asleep and then aren’t hit her in full force. Scooting to sit up in bed she gave the mandatory curious look around, but even with a little moonlight filtering in through her window the darkness was pretty solid and she figured her eyes just hadn’t adjusted to the sudden change yet. Reaching over, she sleepily fumbled a little for the switch to the light on her little bedside table, and after the soft click, everything came into focus a little better. But still not quite how it should have been. The room was lighter and clearer but still almost as if she was looking at it through a filter. After rubbing her eyes and blinking several times as she shook her head a few times, everything came back into focus. And that was confirmation- nothing out of the ordinary here. It was just her slightly messier than usual room, which she was of course, alone in.

( It had been a lot longer than she really wanted to think about since Brian left the school. )

TO: Luce
FROM: Emma

Hey are you at the hospital? How are you?

TO: Nick
FROM: Emma

Everyone has been running around all day. Is something going on besides Adrien?

backdated to saturday night -- jo hasn't been seen since.

Though she didn’t believe in God, Jo Fraser would swear with her hand on a bible that she didn’t know what she was doing lately. It had been rocky for months, but recently, especially since the nightmares they’d all been through, things had been worse. Sometimes she was so utterly numb that getting out of bed in the mornings felt like the biggest hurdle she could ever face, the idea of swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress, of hoisting her torso upright and standing up seemed like the hardest thing anyone could ask her to do. Jo would lie there, alone, and stare at the wall for a while, wondering when she had gotten so mixed up inside, asking herself how her wires had gotten so crossed. Other days she couldn’t stop, she was up at the crack of dawn running the grounds, she was in the Danger Room running sims with her team, or on her own, she was strengthening her mutation’s grip on gymnastics, studying parkour or combat, she would be moving constantly until the early hours of the morning sometimes and both extremes were as terrifying as each other. They both caused the B-word to rise up like some monster form the fog of her mind.

Bipolar.

For years her mother had cycled through depression and mania and Jo had picked up the pieces; she had covered for her, cleaned up her vomit and tucked her into bed at night, or locked herself in her room to avoid the manic outbursts of frustration and rage. It wasn’t all bad. Sometimes Kimberly had been exciting when she was like that, Jo remembered whole days they would spend at the zoo or a theme park, or on a road trip, but it never lasted and it always went on too long. Little Joey would be exhausted, they’d have been going for twelve hours straight and her mother would still be active, running around wanting to do this, that or the other and her daughter would just want it to end, she would just want to sleep, but from a young age she had known that once it stopped it would be back to the depression, she would be making her own lunches for school, braiding her own hair and never getting it quite right, walking out the door in grubby clothes. There was never a way to decide which extreme she hated more. Jo hated so many things about her childhood and now she was turning into the embodiment of it. Bipolar. ( It was the only explanation. )

[ narrative ]

Warning: Disturbing content :(

For a while now, Adrien hadn't felt like he had much to complain about. His unfortunate mutation aside, his life had seemingly been nothing more than a series of mistakes that had snowballed into serious consequences -- and yes, he was living with those consequences now, but it was all in the past. He couldn't take back the choices he'd made or change the way that they had already affected him. He'd come to realize that the only thing he could do was keep waking up, one day at a time, and go about his life with a kind of single-minded focus on the tasks ahead of him. And slowly, it began to work. Eventually, it wasn't so difficult for him not to get up and reach for a bottle. It wasn't so hard for him to look at his bank statement. It wasn't so hard for him to pass Luce in the hallway. He began to realize that all the deep, unsettling emotional turmoil that had been causing him pain this entire time was fading. He was learning to cope with it, to not let his feelings torment him, and as a result, everything hadn't seemed quite so horrible anymore. He was being more productive. His job and affairs were all in order. And he wasn't alone. Despite his mutation, despite his personality, despite his lack of money, he still had a few people who wanted to be close to him: Kevin, Nico, Noah. Warren. Maybe Rogue and Sadie. In some strange way, possibly Laurie as well.

There wasn't going to be any magical cure that would fall into his lap and fix his mistakes the way he'd always secretly hoped, so he was adjusting. He was truly and successfully learning how to live a normal life.

( That numbness that he could always sense in Kevin was finally starting to take over. )

[ NARRATIVE ]

The day after he attacked Alex, and Val came to the rescue (only to be unceremoniously dismissed from the boys' room), Ryan went flying. He was raised right, and what happened wasn't sitting well with him. Though at the time, he'd been frozen and focused on Alex for a multitude of reasons--fear, guilt, owning up to what he'd done--it meant he hadn't been appropriate to Val. And he needed to make up for that somehow. Especially as the day wore on and no one came to remonstrate or penalize him for what he'd done. Val hadn't told on them, on him, which only made Ryan more appreciative, and feel worse for what he'd put upon Val. He knew the stakes, here. He could get kicked out. He could be sent home to parents who may not even take him back for all he knew. He could lose his chance of ever becoming a doctor. Val might not know these things, but Ryan was very aware of his debt.

Apologizing for himself and trying to appease seemed like a trait in Ryan that was only strengthening since he'd been here, too out of his element and too needy to resort to any other reactions or find another niche. But it seemed fitting in this instance to make a gesture toward Val. He already looked up to the healer, not just for his power, but for his interest in medicine and because he was older. To Ryan, that pretty much made him a role model. So on Ryan's flight around and possibly beyond the school property, he scavenged flowers. With limited money and resources, it was all he could think of to do. Stealing from a florist or even the greenhouse wasn't an effort that he felt properly reflected his intentions. At the end of the day, he left a humble bouquet of winter wildflowers, mostly hyacinth, at Valerian's door, with no way of knowing if or when the other would find them. The note was simple: Val - thank you again. - Ryan

The flower choice was borne of availability, not forethought. Ryan had no way of knowing the origin and symbolism of the hyacinth. He wouldn't know that there was a Saint Hyacinth, who had also been a Doctor of Sacred Studies. He wouldn't know that in mythology, the hyacinth was named for a youth who was known for his tragic early death. He wouldn't know they were a flower commonly associated with rebirth. All, in some way, fitting for Val. But coincidental. To Ryan they were merely pretty flowers that had survived the recent snow, that he hoped would show the healer that he was both sorry and grateful.

[Narrative; Closed]

It was dark by the time Darcy was on her way back from the city to the mansion out in Westchester, the last meeting with the neurology department head of Mt. Sinai that she could sneak in before New Years. It was going well, she thought. They were keen to have her aboard, they just had to work a few things out and they could wait until after the holidays, it was frustrating on one level because she didn’t like to just wait around but it was also out of her hands, there was nothing more she could do to affect the outcome at present and she had to learn to swallow that pill and get on with other things. Thankfully she had unpacking to finish. That would keep her busy for a few days if she stretched the last few boxes of books out. Then there was New York itself, a place she hadn’t been for a long while and a place with plenty of things to keep her mind off the fact that she was effectively sitting on her hands until she heard back from the doctors and the board. It often seemed plain weird to other people but the Lovells didn’t celebrate Christmas, not in the traditionally sense; they had celebrated the holidays in her childhood but she had never believed in Santa Claus and her parents had never tried to convince her that he existed, they weren’t Christian either so there had never been a need to celebrate the birthday of Jesus whom her parents had usually declared was as fictional as Santa Claus, not necessarily a view that Darcy herself shared but that was just stepping into a mine field. So in short, the fact that she had moved out of her home a week before Christmas day and had no plans to see her parents over the course of the holiday period was not out of the ordinary for Dr. Lovell. However, she was more than capable of understanding that the rest of the world, give or take, would be celebrating ad she had to work around that. It was simple fact.

In the car a CD was playing softly, ticked through the time code in neon green digital numbers and Darcy tapped her fingers on the wheel to the beat, lifting her fingers to turn the high beams on as she broke out of the city. It was an okay drive it had been a cold and cloudy day so she had the heater on and papers spread across her backseat, oddly she felt at home in the seat of her car, it was an extension of self in a way, she had practically lived in either the hospital or the vehicle during her residency. Breathing a tired sigh she turned into the drive felt the engine slowing, the gearbox compensating and shifting down. There was a figure caught in her high beams, standing at the gate and Darcy lowered the lights considerately as she spotted them, reaching a hand to adjust her glasses on the bridge of her nose; a mutant looking for a safe haven? Most likely not someone who had gotten lost; curious and concerned she pulled up to them. One hand tugged at her seatbelt to give her some slack as she leaned across the empty passenger seat to the window that she lowered, letting in a blast of freezing air that clouded her breath.

"Are you--" Seeing who it was standing there, Darcy’s eyebrows rose and she stalled before finishing her sentence as she finally saw the face of the man.

[ Gabriel ]

Being temporarily homeless and on the road for the holidays hadn't been fun for Ramona. She hadn't realized before taking off how depressing it was going to be to spend the days leading up to Christmas sleeping in bus terminals. The cold had been quite a force to reckon with, and despite the fact that she was used to bundling up in four layers to make up for the shitty heating in the apartment she'd just left behind, some of those nights had been pretty miserable. And then the snowstorm had hit, and the roads were a wreck. It seemed like some force above was trying to send her the message that she was heading in the wrong direction.

Ramona had never been particularly good about paying attention to signs or God, though.

Crossing into New York State had been a big weight off of her shoulders. The sign flew by outside her window, and she'd smiled a little to herself. Triumph. Having the strength of will to make a decision and stand firmly by her choices was important to Ramona; she was changing her life in a huge way, doing things that couldn't be taken back or undone. Every little hurdle she crossed on the final lap to Xavier's felt more like a milestone to her. And those milestones made up for spending Christmas alone in Burger King.

She got off the Greyhound at North Salem, a town that was fairly desolate in the post-holiday hush. Cars drove by, and the stores were lit up, but few people were out doing errands and most of them were ready to head home to their re-heated Christmas leftovers for dinner by the time she found herself walking down the sidewalk. It took her a little while to find an ad for a taxi service, and longer still for her to locate a Subway so she could scarf down a meal while she wanted for the car to pick her up, but at last, she was able to pile her overstuffed backpack into the back seat and curl her long legs up to fully enjoy the heater.

The driver took her all the way to the gates, and she was almost too busy staring at the mansion to thank him as she paid and climbed out. The snow everywhere made the enormous building seem all the more picturesque. Private, too. She could tell without hesitation that the place had security measures and was meant to seem like not just anyone could waltz in. The problem, however, was that Ramona's plan more or less included doing just that.

Gathering her courage quickly, she steeled her resolve and walked straight up to the metal bars. There must be a buzzer somewhere around here.

[ Open to anyone! ]

Whoever remained at the school during the holidays seemed, for the most part, to be congregated in common areas of the house. Some exchanged or opened presents, while others rummaged through the feast of holiday treats that had appeared in the kitchen.

Not Ryan. At the height of celebrations on Christmas Day, the hawk-boy was sitting on the corner of his bed, going carefully and slowly through the few belongings he’d brought with him on this new leg of his life. He turned the engraved antique lancet over and over in his hand, letting it catch the light. It was the most meaningful present he’d ever received, and it reminded him how much his parents were capable of supporting him. But then he’d look at the photo of them from back when his hawk was new, when they were teaching him to conceal it. And he knew that their shortcomings in that respect far outweighed their successes as parents. He needed to leave them. He still believed it.

But that didn’t make spending the holidays alone for the first time any easier. Today his bravado and conviction about coming here was challenged, and he broke. He let himself break down, alone in his room. He liked several of the people here, but they weren’t his family. He couldn’t bring himself to show his face among them and try to be merry. He missed his mom and dad. He wanted to wake up in whatever place they were calling home and discover the stockings that had been empty last night were now stuffed with little treasures. He wanted to sip hot chocolate with them and open presents. He wanted to add the annual ornaments to their tree (they always managed to get one, though one year it was a palm tree!) and he even wanted to still pretend to believe in Santa Claus. For them; with them.

Ryan definitely wished he had his parents with him today. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was knowing that somewhere in the world, his parents were wishing he were with them. He had run away from home barely a few weeks before Christmas. His parents didn’t know where he had gone, or if he was even okay. For the first time in seventeen years, they were not only alone today but left worried and wondering. What kind of child did that? It wasn’t like his parents had neglected or abused him. They had absolutely never been cruel of unloving. Ryan had just wanted his hawk and his freedom more than he wanted the things they were so generously willing to provide. He couldn’t make sacrifices in his own life to accommodate them. He must have been the worst son in the world, really. Should he have sent them a card or present somehow—some signifier that he was well?

…but he couldn’t. He’d done this, he was committed now. He wasn’t eighteen yet, and there were still ways they could try to interfere with his plans, to get him back. Maybe one day he could contact them again, when he was legally an adult. Or maybe when he’d graduated high school and could stand up for himself and show them he was doing okay on his own. You know, maybe he was hanging out with a homeless kid and maybe he was kissing boys and maybe he was crying alone on Christmas—all things they would consider not okay—but he had made it here, he was healthy and he was whole. He was growing as a young man, for better or worse. And he was flying—every single day. And he didn’t care who saw him. And one day, one day he would say that to them and prove that this was the right choice. And maybe they’d even forgive him and be proud of him—and they’d be together again on Christmas. But this year, Ryan sat quietly in his room, hugging his blankie and missing his parents and wishing it weren’t the holidays at all. He let himself stop pretending everything was perfectly okay for the first time since coming here, and he wouldn't be able to fend off the sadness of that reality for several long and lonely days.

[Narrative]

Unsurprisingly, Alex didn't really do holidays. He had some small traditions of his own, sure; it seemed like everyone did, regardless of their station. He liked to go to Christmas Eve services in churches because of the number of people who showed. He'd go to the skating rink in the evening for the excitement that kids gave off. He'd catch a free meal of leftovers at one of a few different restaurants that he knew felt generous on those days. He'd usually stay at a shelter for women and children on those nights too. He liked being around the people inside of them, then.

The traditions at Xaviers were quite different, to say the least. People were all out hanging their own ornaments on the tree that had been stolen, Bobby had converted the lake into an ice skating rink for them and made sure there was plenty of snow on the ground. There was a massive amount of food at the Christmas Eve dinner, and people seemed to already be tossing around presents to be opened by one another. All the talking and festivities and happiness made for very good eating for Alex, but he found himself not really wanting to join in. He'd slipped away as he felt it all building up to start, staying out of eyesight (and earshot for the most part), but close enough in a nearby room that he could still cast that energy-net to siphon off of the Christmas cheer.

He found himself getting tired while there were still a number of people, up and around and talking. He glanced into the main room as he moved past it, seeing that Vanya was indeed gone from it. Alex had started following the man somewhat, at times opting to sneak into the faculty hall once most people were asleep, staying outside the history teacher's room. He'd fallen asleep there on occasion, even. This, it turned out, was to be one of those times.

Outside Vanya's room, he could feel that the man was in there, and took a seat against the wall just by his door. Alex was pretty good at just clearing his mind and mentally drifting while waiting on something that might take a long time. It was worth it though. Sure enough though, a mixture of the warmth, the energy that he'd already gotten, and the too-much food he'd had lulled him into a light sleep, knees pulled up so that his head could rest on them a bit.


(Open to Vanya!)

All things told, it hadn't been the smoothest journey in the history of man -- or mutant, as the case may be -- and Rahne supposed neither he nor Angel could justifiably say so to anyone who might ask how their trip had gone. It hadn't been too bad at all before Angel's car had started making troubling noises that they had both immediately recognised as very much Not Good. A grinding, choking sound from beneath the hood had started off as troubling and finally reached downright awful before the old car had given out on them, life fading quickly, and taking with it the heat and only mode of transport the pair had outside of their own legs. The snow outside the car hadn't helped much, not when Rahne had tried his hand at figuring out what was wrong -- only to fail, and rather spectacularly, with a somewhat sheepish and weary smile of apology and a shrug of his shoulders -- and not whilst they waited for the tow-truck. That wait had stretched from minutes into hours, and delayed their journey by almost a whole day, putting them undeniably behind schedule, but the closer they got to Chicago and therefore her father, Rahne couldn't help but notice those little troubles bouncing off Angel's exterior in the face of her growing excitement. The car had been patched back together by a surprisingly helpful and even pleasant mechanic with the promise that it should get them to where they wanted to go, but likely no further. Angel's reliable old banger was, to put it bluntly, a lost cause. One last journey and she would have to hand over the keys once and for all. Not that that seemed to bother her, or if it did, it couldn't overpower that aforementioned excitement.

Rahne couldn't help but smile from where he sat in the passenger seat, turning his gaze from glancing out the window to where she sat behind the wheel, navigating the vehicle down streets that were familiar to her but relatively alien to the metamorph. He'd been there before, once, a while back, with the same redhead who sat not three feet to his left, and when he got out and set foot on the ground and took in smells and sounds, it would come rushing back to him, but from the window of the car where all he could see was settled snow and treacherous patches of ice, people shovelling their driveways and pedestrians struggling along the sidewalks, it seemed like a whole new place to him. So instead he focused on his travel companion, but didn't speak. Angel was too intent on the last stretch of their journey, and honestly? Rahne didn't have the heart to distract her from that excitement, something he felt she truly deserved, especially after everything she had been through in the last couple of years.


[ OPEN TO ANGEL ]

Nate Grey was known for his powers. Other than certain members of his family (and certain cosmic forces), he was the most powerful telepath on the planet. Even including them, he was possibly the most powerful telekinetic in the world. Between the two, it was often thought that he could do most anything that came to mind. And, in a lot of cases, it was true. But there were things that even Nate struggled with, powers that even he couldn't control, despite his years of training and his time spent in other worlds trying to learn. One of these was his precognition.

It wasn't a readily known aspect of his mutation, primarily because it could be so unpredictable and indecipherable. He received visions of the future on occasion; not often, and almost always in his dreams, but they were things that never failed to come to fruition. He'd long ago given up on trying to force them, simply taking them as they came.

Only a few days before Christmas, they came again.

A dream-vision, not of this world, but of his home dimension. Apocalypse's world. The slave pens, the rebels, Apocalypse himself. And Nate there, with a group of heroes, finishing the mission that he'd been created for. Taking down Apocalypse, and ending his horrific world rule. Nate could feel it in his bones long after he woke up. This was meant to happen. This needed to happen. He had to take those people, the ones from this world, the ones in his dream, and bring them back to his. With that group, he would be able to stop Apocalypse, end he and his son and all of their followers.

He went to Scott immediately, telling him of it. After this was done, after his world was saved, he would come back and die for this one. But this had to be first. And he had to have those people with him. Lorna, Prince, Michelle, Luka, Morgan. An odd group, to be sure, and mostly overlooked when it came to their powers here. But they were the ones. They had to go with him. And it had to be before the new year.

[Narrative, closed. Consider your character told about this, if they're in the group listed!]

Never one to prey upon new recruits to Xavier's, Eudora had chosen to take a detour of her former ideas. She had been rather lonely since her arrival and never once cried against this truth. The men who housed here were egotistical assholes, a rival of Eudora's if you will, or they tended to gear towards the same sex. It wasn't many options for the heiress to pick from and seeing as most were runaways, they didn't have any monetary value to offer to Ross. With all said, Eudora definitely wasn't missing out on much. However, Vanya's arrival was one Eudora noted immediately. Not much went pass Eudora in the school and when the man first stepped foot in the halls Eudora had already gleaned his name before he was even introduced to the journaling system. Oh for crying out loud, the guy was someone Eudora would have never thought walk into this place. She became accustomed to the homeless, idiotic inferiors that deemed Xavier's School home. She could care less of his economical background for now. She had more than enough money guaranteed to her when her dear father take his last breath. For the heiress' sake it seemed as if God had finally took notice of Eudora for once in her life. She'd pray harder for her parents' demise if the divine being was being so giving now.

Eudora had made reservations before even responding to Vanya's initial journal post. Call it lucky, but once the Russian agreed to her voyage around New York she had crossed out possibly mind-raping him into going. It should still stand that Eudora agrees with Xavier's ideology with probing others, of course. No one has to know she ever did such things before. However her luck had turned out, Eudora Ross effectively called upon a limousine service the next morning after speaking with Vanya. The arrival time was set -- 6 p.m. Now all was needed to be executed was telling her date, er ...peer. Eudora was too preppy to go journeying to his room. Oh no, why use feet when you can use mind? The British tone of a telepathic female would ring in Vanya's head saying, Don't fret, darling. It's only I, Eudora Ross. I was just letting you know that we will depart in two hours. Meet me at the entrance, yes? Part of Eudora felt wrong for breaking in on Vanya's mind as she just did. He could have been changing, showering, or completely naked for Heaven's sake! ...That part, however, was very minimum and non-apologetic at the least.

Two hours had passed and Eudora had transformed herself into a sparkling Goddess. Never one to show that much skin, Eudora remained classy by wearing a strapless, knee-length dress of black accompanied with daring red lipstick. She had wore a bear-fur trench coat against the Winter winds. She walked hastefully to the entrance not wanting to give light to any students' beliefs of her and Vanya's occasion. Eudora sat patiently at a nearby stool in the waiting room near the entrance door. She debated against probing the Russian's mind any further but fought against those ideas reluctantly. Until then she fiddled with her straight hair until his arrival.

[ Vanya! ]

Emma hated calling her parents, just about as much as she hated not hearing their voices for months on end (though she could deal with the latter more than the former). Their finances were limited enough that she didn't have to worry about actually seeing them too often, which lessened her guilt about not going home enough that she could call every few weeks to check in. They were almost always short calls. Her parents had grown used to her being away, like a college student living out of state, seen on holidays and maybe over summer vacation. But every time, under the reports of Mr. Burnett's corn crop, or the Ellis' new baby girl, or her old elementary school teacher's recent wedding--the slightest twinge of guilt in her mother's voice. Never on her own account.

"Oh, everyone misses you, Emily," her mother said, the same way she might bring up how poorly someone nearby was managing without proper heating. Just the slightest hint that Emma, were she there, might be able to help. Emma knew exactly what missing her meant. She'd had years of people missing her when she couldn't be everywhere at once, omnipotent and omnipresent.

"I'm sure they're managing," she said, perhaps more forcefully than she intended.

Her mother cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, your father and I haven't seen you in months, honey. When was the last time? When we met you down in that big old city--"

"Manhattan, Mom."

"Manhattan, right. Last February." Her mother laughed incredulously. ( Emma was 15 again, having forgotten basic chores or an errand her parents had asked. Embarrassed, and frustrated. )