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It was frustrating to think that beyond the line of trees ahead of him, there was something powerful enough to interfere with the powers of Rachel Summers. Perhaps she had never been the most powerful telepath to walk the earth, but the tall man standing at the edge of the grounds before it led into what could only be described as a private forest had always thought she could fight off any outside intereference; knowing that she had been tripped up by what they only knew to be a shell of some kind was maddening. The worst part? No one knew how to get past the damned thing, get through its 'shields' -- if they could even be called that -- and shut the fucking thing off. It was enough to spark something not unlike the beginnings of a stress headache inside the team's second in command.
Deacon stood there, stock still save for the rise and fall of his broad chest and the lift and drop of his arm as he smoked the cigarette. More 'borrowed' property, once again, like the lighter tucked in the depth of his pocket. Taking a long drag from the butt between his lips, he narrowed his eyes, staring through the vertical lines of the labyrinth stretched before him almost as if he could penentrate it all with his mind somehow and see to the bottom of this new problem. Problem-solving might not have been his forte, but he was still leadership material, even if the faculty -- and the residents and students; hell, everyone -- here at Xavier's probably wouldn't recognise or acknowledge it. They had very different ideas of what made a leader. Tremor didn't fit the school's tidy ideas of 'superior'. Deacon reached up, taking the cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and middle finger, holding the acrid, thick smoke inside for several long, searing seconds. Fuck it. He didn't care.
Ash spiralled chaotically to the ground, fine grains of waste that were immediately lost in the blades of grass around his booted feet, the Intruder finally exhaling that long, grey cloud from his system. Sooner or later they would find out what that thing in the lake was all about; all the secrets and 'mysteries' it contained. Until then, people like him? They just had to sit and wait. Deacon sneered, taking another drag.
God. He hated waiting.
( OPEN )
Deacon stood there, stock still save for the rise and fall of his broad chest and the lift and drop of his arm as he smoked the cigarette. More 'borrowed' property, once again, like the lighter tucked in the depth of his pocket. Taking a long drag from the butt between his lips, he narrowed his eyes, staring through the vertical lines of the labyrinth stretched before him almost as if he could penentrate it all with his mind somehow and see to the bottom of this new problem. Problem-solving might not have been his forte, but he was still leadership material, even if the faculty -- and the residents and students; hell, everyone -- here at Xavier's probably wouldn't recognise or acknowledge it. They had very different ideas of what made a leader. Tremor didn't fit the school's tidy ideas of 'superior'. Deacon reached up, taking the cigarette from his mouth with his thumb and middle finger, holding the acrid, thick smoke inside for several long, searing seconds. Fuck it. He didn't care.
Ash spiralled chaotically to the ground, fine grains of waste that were immediately lost in the blades of grass around his booted feet, the Intruder finally exhaling that long, grey cloud from his system. Sooner or later they would find out what that thing in the lake was all about; all the secrets and 'mysteries' it contained. Until then, people like him? They just had to sit and wait. Deacon sneered, taking another drag.
God. He hated waiting.