Beyond Evolution

It wasn't really that his back was causing him physical pain. His doctors were good, and preventing that (or providing him measures with which he could stave it off) had been a priority for his parents. They didn't want him hurting after all, ironically enough. His back was layered with protective bandages, and the painkillers got rid of the worst of the aches that would have been there without them. It was the phantom pains that were killing him. He could still feel his wings there at times. Most of the time, really, and whenever his mind wandered to them (which was often), it got worse. Then something would ache inside of him -- not in the metaphorical heart sense, but under the layers of skin and muscle along his back, where the wings used to attach to his body. Like his body still missed them, like the surgeons hadn't gotten out everything that had connected them to him.

He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his legs. He didn't like having to sit with his back against things, not when he could feel that absence of soft thickness between whatever surface and the rest of his body. "You won't be able to do that at the school." He blinked and glanced up, to where Sam was seated. Samantha Collins, his mother's personal assistant of close to ten years, who had been the one sent with Warren to help settle him in at the school. Not that he minded -- he liked Sam, and she had always been nice to him, and funny. She'd also been going over the protocols with him as he'd been daydreaming. No answering questions on how the cure worked or what the plans for it were as far as selling the rights, no talking against the company, remaining neutral on matters or maybe showing a casual support for them. His parents didn't want him being a spokesperson, at all; regardless of how it seemed, they wanted to protect him. But there were certain things that just wouldn't do, like saying that he didn't want the cure in the first place. Despite the pressure that there might be to say that. He wasn't stupid -- he didn't think being the namesake of the company providing a way to get rid of mutations would be overly welcome in certain communities. He could always pretend not to notice, though.

He sat back up, knowing she was right. It would be bad to show any obvious signs of consistent discomfort, like keeping his back away from things. He gave her a half-smile, tired. It wasn't the usual Worthington grin, but Sam knew him well enough that she'd have just given him a Look for trying to fake that at her. She gave him a sympathetic smile in return. "It'll be okay." He looked back out the window, watching the school as they got closer to it.

He stepped out when the driver opened the door for him, sunglasses neatly in place and guarding his eyes from the noonday light. A limousine probably would have been overkill for just about any arrival, but Warren didn't even register it. Normalcies. Sam stepped out behind him and went up to the school with him, as the driver got his bags. The rest of his things had already been shipped there. Sam paused him in the foyer, by a couch. "Wait here a minute. I need to check on one last thing with Professor Summers." Warren nodded, watching her leave and then simply glancing around the room that he was now in, shoving said glasses up on top of his hair. It wasn't like boarding schools were a new experience for him, but ones filled with mutants? That...was a little strange. Especially since he wasn't one, anymore.


(Open!)

Even with all her awkwardness around her fellow students, Marie-Ange was somewhat relieved to once again have a roommate. She knew it was good for her, a necessary and needed progression that would help her- fit in a little more, perhaps. From the start she’d been well aware that a change of that sort was going to be integral to her staying at Xavier’s, particularly if she wanted to continue to progress with her powers and on the teams. Still, suddenly having the oddly grim little girl and her oddly grim belongings in half of a shared space that went unoccupied for so long was just a little too much for her to take in all at once. So now, a little more often than usual, she would venture off to some quiet corner on her own, getting lost in her own thoughts and curiosities.

A school like Xavier’s was always full of questions, uncertainties, and unknown elements. At times it seemed like there was a new one everyday, and the old ones were often forgotten or put aside and there was an unspoken acceptance that certain details would never be discovered. But Marie-Ange had her own way of finding things out and also a tendency to not so quickly dismiss anything into the category of ‘things you would never know’. (  By those standards it was no surprise that even in the wake of prestigious new arrivals and faculty scandals- the latter of which she’d found horribly, terribly distasteful and QUITE inappropriate- the redhead was not one of the many who seemed to forget there was still an unidentified object at the bottom of the lake.  )