Beyond Evolution

THE CURE IS AWESOME. Sadie had decided this pretty much immediately after she’d gotten to take her gloves off the first time, at least somewhere in the back of her mind she had because at that time there’d been that voice telling her that she was crazy if she thought it was going to last, if she thought it was really going to work on any sort of permanent level. It had been scary to tell the truth. Really petrifying. But time had gone on, she’d gotten the second shot and it was still working. She could touch people and their blood didn’t start to boil, their noses didn’t bleed, their brains didn’t dissolve into a messy, liquefied fizz. Adrien’s birthday party had come along and after she’d gotten a few shots in her Sadie was ready, willing and able to go, she had hooked up with... someone, spending a decent amount of the night making out in a back corner or else smoking weed. Just like the good old days only with a lot more tongue.

So classy.

When sunlight started to filter through the slat blinds of the cheap motel room Sadie woke up in a tangle of sheets with his arm draped around her waist, the scratch of stubble on her back of her neck and his chest against her shoulder blades. For a few moments she squirmed around, relishing that feeling no matter how much she knew she would normally hate it, having someone all over her like that, invading her precious personal space but it was different now, in this moment, and she smiled sleepily instead. Not that she stayed that way for long, because she wasn’t in this to cuddle, she’d gotten what she wanted already, call her shallow, or a slut and she would probably just roll her eyes and call you something lewd in return and flip you off. If she’d cared about what people thought about her before getting the cure she wouldn’t have dressed the way she dressed and said the things she said, it wasn’t going to change now, in fact she was only feeling more confident and self-assured. Instead of sticking around for the spooning, she gave Iris -- uh sorry dude, she doesn’t actually remember your real name anymore -- a shove and started to get up, taking the sheet with her, wrapped around her body like a toga.

( For a moment she paused to see if she’d woken him up but apparently not )

[narrative;; closed]

All things considered, perhaps this was something that would have been best kept to the Danger Room. But Marie-Ange felt a little guilty taking up time there for her own random power experimentations when certainly there was someone who needed the space more than her. Since Sabretooth's rampage, she had been diligent in trying to hone certain aspects of her powers, trying to see if there was any hope of increasing the accuracy and detail of her readings, increasing what she could see and garner from them. The goal was that perhaps next time something of that nature occurred she could offer something besides vague warnings and concerns, regardless of how correct they may turn out to be. Thus far, her attempts had not been going very well. Perhaps it was because there was nothing she could currently see on the horizon that was as massive as Nate’s arrival and everything that had come of it. Perhaps it was because the way her powers worked simply came with a certain amount of limitations regardless of what she might try. Either way, Marie-Ange expanded her focus to the other section of her abilities as well, new considerations coming to mind. Perhaps it was a way of occupying herself, not focusing on other people or things around her. Things quite complicated and that she wasn't entirely sure she would like the outcome of if she began contemplating for too long. Marie-Ange had never exactly been what you might call a 'social' person, though she had made attempts here and there since coming to Xavier's and had relative success. In spite of that, ultimately she was often one to just retreat back into her shell and rely on her cards more than anything else. Even if it was habit she was trying to break.

The hulking specter of a figure in front of the redhead was an ominous sight, to be sure. Roughly eight or so feet in height in the current incarnation, black robes tattered, worn, and distressed within an inch of their existence. No face was visible from the low drape of the hood, only steaming cold breath exiting out into the air on this edge of the grounds to indicate there was indeed a face in there somewhere. The spindly, bony fingers of one hand were barely visible under the hanging border of a sleeve, the opposite hand wrapped in a commanding vice like grip on a very foreboding looking scythe. ( The Grim Reaper wasn’t the most traditional representation of Death according to the tarot, but it was one often used and highly recognizable. )

[ooc:backdated to a week ago.]

Aside from the musical endeavors at Xavier's being headed up by Vea, for the past several weeks Matt had been burying himself almost completely in school- classes, assignments, projects, rehearsals, performances and more. It wasn’t until recently that it dawned on him exactly how focused he’d become on life outside of Xavier’s, and after it for that matter. In recent months he’d come to a certain awareness that that his time at the school would eventually come to an end. And while he knew that after it did he very well might be back eventually like so many were, before that he wanted to just- go out into the world and be normal for a little while, really. To have a job, have a family, maybe a life that didn't include mortal peril around every turn. They were simple ambitions, really, when considered in the grand scheme of things, and certainly mild mannered when considering the ambitions of a person who has already shuffled off the mortal coil once. But it's the simple things in life that matter anyway, isn't that what they say? And as simple as those desires were, he knew they weren't going to come to pass while he was living at the mansion. It wasn't so much a desire to get away from Xavier's and all it represented as it was to wanting some kind of balance in his life, being able to look back and say that he hadn't missed the opportunity to venture out while he'd had it.

Really what triggered the realization was the arrival of a birthday care package from his parents. Matt didn’t particularly feel like he was 21. Then again, the past few birthdays had kind of caught him off guard, sneaking up on him leaving the sudden reality that he was a year older now, and inching closer and closer to full on adulthood. Though it was very arguable that at his age he was already there, being in college did help delay the designation to a certain extent, even if it was only a technicality on many levels. Still, the arrival of the carefully packed, express shipped box of things from Virginia had prompted a small series of revelations, starting with when the last time he'd gotten a care package was. Probably his last birthday, if he was remembering correctly. When Matt first came to Xavier’s the packages came with almost clockwork regularity. But that was also back when he used to go home for almost every holiday, and now it was only the major ones once or twice a year. But things like that were just all a part of getting older, just a part of life, even though he was respectfully aware he had a closer bond with his parents than many at Xavier's could claim. And average life occurrences aside, with everything that happened at Xavier's there would have been no way to stop the extra distance even if he wanted to. There were just some things his parents would probably never be able to understand, wouldn't be able to comprehend. He knew there was no way for them to even begin wrapping their brains around everything he’d seen and been through since being at the school if they knew all the gory details. Not to mention the fact that they didn’t even have a full set of knowledge to work with in that respect, since he still had memories of people and events they didn't. That realization might have been part of the reason he'd taken to playing Chaz's trumpet more than his own. While Louis was always going to be his prime instrument, there was something fitting about making music with one thing he had left to remind him of his old friend, not letting the instrument just sit in its case unused like some antique to be forgotten along with its owner. ( Or anyone else who'd come and gone from the school, for that matter. )