Beyond Evolution

She kept the news on in the background while she studied, volume low, just in case something interesting was happening in the world. The way this semester was going, that was the only way she would know - Laura didn't have time to take breaks and catch up, she barely even had time to check her voicemail every once in a while. Brandon was probably getting sick of only hearing from her in the occasional short text message. She'd heard this semester was going to be harder, worse than the one before it, but she hadn't realized just how all-consuming it would be or how little of a life she would have outside her schoolwork. Distracted text messages, bitching sessions with Rose, that silent news broadcast, those were pretty much it these days. As she glanced up from her textbook to check the running ticker at the bottom of the screen, she couldn't help thinking that this was awfully sad.

For a few seconds she just stared at the screen in confusion and stubborn incomprehension, the silent images washing over her without taking hold - and then, in a sudden rush, they resolved themselves. Xavier's, a smoking ruin of half-collapsed walls and scorched ground. Ambulances and fire trucks stopped haphazardly across the lawn. Paramedics carrying stretchers, and body bags. A blandly pretty newscaster took the screen, her face set in a careful look of concern, but Laura didn't bother to turn the volume up. She didn't need to hear it, she just needed to drive. As she grabbed her keys and raced from the room, she didn't even notice that the muted TV was still on.

( The drive to the school seemed to take forever, although she knew she'd never made it that quickly before in her life, and she spent the drive telling herself over and over that somehow everything would be all right. )

(NARRATIVE)

Most people knew Betsy Braddock as simply “the model.” On every conceivable dimension, that was entirely her fault.

The halls echoed with the sound of her new heels, her footsteps ringing softly off the walls on either side. It wasn’t that she disliked anyone at Xavier’s. Betsy came from a petty and judgmental world, where it was considered perfectly normal to do things like indulge in a drug habit and spread rumors about a supposed friend’s growing waistline, only to turn around and smile once the friend showed up to your party. Betsy had seen cruel and snide at its finest, and the high school dramatics that seemed to crop up from time to time on the Xavier network didn’t interest her. For every unpleasant character at the school, Betsy had met someone twice as worse. Beyond that, most people were decent sorts, friendly enough – particularly the headmaster himself. Charles Xavier was the world’s foremost known telepath, and Betsy thought it required an astounding amount of empathy (not to mention a philanthropic spirit) for a person to offer his personal guidance to people of all unusual abilities the world over. In the social class Betsy came from, most people simply threw money at a problem and never looked twice, but Charles was a rare breed. He genuinely seemed to want to train people like her for a better life. A better world, for them.

The footsteps slowed to a halt as the model opened the door and stepped out into the dying light, the evening’s final glow casting cool hues onto her skin. For a few moments, Betsy stood in place, gazing up at the palette of colors spread across the darkening blue sky. ( The view wasn’t as open as it had at Braddock Manor, but here, with the temporary peace and serenity, Betsy could pretend – even for a moment – that the world was hers. )

( ooc )