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Years of surviving the multitude of calamitous incidences at the school combined with a mind that still had wisps of people like Nate Grey and even Logan, had lent itself to what could only be described as an invincibility complex in Rogue. Whatever was going on, it certainly wasn't within her abilities to change it and with people like Rahne snatched up despite being near the very capable hands of Wolverine, she felt silly even trying. She was no longer on a team thanks to her personal demons (though eventually she intended to correct that) but she had just as much training and experience as the people who were, even more so in some cases and with team leaders disappearing at disproportionate rates there was a natural obligation to step up.
She didn't require a uniform or any official approval, not that she'd ask for or expect either, and she certainly wasn't interested in checking in with a buddy. Instead, Rogue ran soft, white fingers through the tangles of her hair and tightened her usual ponytail with a quick tug, more meticulous where her appearance was concerned for reasons she'd never openly admit and were solely for her to mull...and Warren, but he had given her a number of mental images she was not prepared for either so they were kind of even. In any event, there was no plan of action, no marked course for how she was to proceed and so she answered a baser call to patrol the grounds if only for her own peace of mind. Sitting around doing nothing would have been a goddamn crime and she felt almost relieved as she pulled on her much maligned gloves and felt her usual dichotomy of relief and despise. That she was decidedly less deadly with them on was a comfort but they were a hot, sweaty reminder not only for all of the things she could do but also those she couldn't.
It was probably a bad thing that she had a patrol routine, always starting and ending at the same points and following the same winding route which ensured that she could cover the most ground. It could easily have been called a walk, differing only be intention, but feeling useful soothed her some. She was good at brevity, at offering herself up to go first or willingly charging ahead at the front of a battle line, ( so perhaps it was with great irony that her return to reality began on the crest of one of the sweetest sounds... )
September 22nd, 2009
September 21st, 2009
"So." The last fifteen minutes of movie had gone by without conversation, and from the looks of it Molly had been biting her tongue for at least three of them. Dan had been watching, wondering when she would finally give in and start talking again. Watching movies in silence wasn't exactly her strong point, even less so when the movie in question was a cheesy made-for-TV flick that didn't even have any ninjas in it. She glanced over, sticking the end of a piece of licorice in her mouth. "You're awful quiet."
Dan shrugged. "Ran out of things to talk about, I guess." This was the third movie in a row, after all, and he only had so many interesting things to say, especially when at some point that evening they'd reached an unspoken agreement that the recent disappearances were off-limits as far as conversation went. Or at least, he wasn't going to be the first one to bring them up. Look at that, he was making a real effort to be social and not bring the mood down, Molly must be so proud.
She bit off the end of her licorice piece, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. "Yeah. Nothing else going on here that's interesting." Another few seconds passed in silence, and she burst out laughing, catching him by surprise. "Oh, come on. It's not even that weird by our standards. And I think it's right on schedule."
( So it was just Dan who'd been avoiding the subject, then, that was good to know. )
(NARRATIVE)
Dan shrugged. "Ran out of things to talk about, I guess." This was the third movie in a row, after all, and he only had so many interesting things to say, especially when at some point that evening they'd reached an unspoken agreement that the recent disappearances were off-limits as far as conversation went. Or at least, he wasn't going to be the first one to bring them up. Look at that, he was making a real effort to be social and not bring the mood down, Molly must be so proud.
She bit off the end of her licorice piece, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. "Yeah. Nothing else going on here that's interesting." Another few seconds passed in silence, and she burst out laughing, catching him by surprise. "Oh, come on. It's not even that weird by our standards. And I think it's right on schedule."
( So it was just Dan who'd been avoiding the subject, then, that was good to know. )
September 16th, 2009
I don't know how to live through this hell; woken up, I'm still locked in this shell. [AU & RW]
Val stared at the kit in front of him. He'd been alone in the medlabs since his little brother had left. Although the students and residents of Xavier's had been ordered to stay together in pairs, he knew Madelyne was still taking her much-needed rest, and there was a part of him that didn't really care about the rules. Not right now. Because for some reason, despite how hard he was trying and how many times he went back to the last step in order to recall what came chronologically next, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to do to finish preparing this package. There wasn't a whole lot that had to go into the box, and it wasn't a very complicated arrangement, but the parts in front of him might as well have belonged to some billion-piece white puzzle without any hints or clues to help him make sense of it. He'd been messing up all day, having problems with everything he laid his hands on, but now it was like he was completely unable to locate the next step in his head. His gaze swept from one piece of equipment to the next, hands raised uselessly in front of him, staring at each individual package as though hoping they'd speak to him. Give him something, anything to go on. Just a little bit of guidance.
( He felt like he was going crazy. )
[ NARRATIVE ]
( He felt like he was going crazy. )
September 12th, 2009
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 )
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 )
September 13th, 2009
It started so simply, because things of its nature always did.
He probably should have been more worried than he was, but Artie had been through a lot since his arrival at Xavier's. Even for someone who was ostensibly useless in a crisis, survival through enough of them manufactured a certain desensitization to a new one. There was nothing that someone like Artie could really do in situations like this, and he'd come to realize that long enough ago that he knew better than to get in the way during moments of heightened security. This time, as like with the others, once the patrols started and the disappearances became evident, Artie was content to be shuffled between his more vigilant, more competent friends until whatever attack they were enduring was over, and he could go back to the normal patterns of his life. With most of his friends on teams, there weren't a whole lot of other options available to the mute--or maybe it was more that it never occurred to him to look for other options. It was probably the complacency that got him, in the end, the very fact that he'd allowed himself to grow cavalier and comfortable.
What had started as a chess game with Art had turned into two boys with bodies too old and too small for the size of their spirits moving pieces over the board in a haphazard set of rules that made sense to no one but them. They'd been playing for a while, ever sense Cal had left for his patrol, and even people trying to stay out of the way of the world have to play by the rules of biology from time to time, so it really wasn't that strange, not to the mute or to the young alien, when Artie found the need to excuse himself to go into the bathroom. Neither of them gave a moment's thought to being alone for just a few minutes' worth of hygiene-related privacy.
( When Artie came back out, drying his hands on the sides of his jeans, everything had changed. )
[narrative; closed]
He probably should have been more worried than he was, but Artie had been through a lot since his arrival at Xavier's. Even for someone who was ostensibly useless in a crisis, survival through enough of them manufactured a certain desensitization to a new one. There was nothing that someone like Artie could really do in situations like this, and he'd come to realize that long enough ago that he knew better than to get in the way during moments of heightened security. This time, as like with the others, once the patrols started and the disappearances became evident, Artie was content to be shuffled between his more vigilant, more competent friends until whatever attack they were enduring was over, and he could go back to the normal patterns of his life. With most of his friends on teams, there weren't a whole lot of other options available to the mute--or maybe it was more that it never occurred to him to look for other options. It was probably the complacency that got him, in the end, the very fact that he'd allowed himself to grow cavalier and comfortable.
What had started as a chess game with Art had turned into two boys with bodies too old and too small for the size of their spirits moving pieces over the board in a haphazard set of rules that made sense to no one but them. They'd been playing for a while, ever sense Cal had left for his patrol, and even people trying to stay out of the way of the world have to play by the rules of biology from time to time, so it really wasn't that strange, not to the mute or to the young alien, when Artie found the need to excuse himself to go into the bathroom. Neither of them gave a moment's thought to being alone for just a few minutes' worth of hygiene-related privacy.
( When Artie came back out, drying his hands on the sides of his jeans, everything had changed. )
September 14th, 2009
News of the missing people had spread through the school like the proverbial wildfire, a cliché term but an applicable one all the same. Disappearances were rarely positive in any instance but at Xavier's they had a whole other meaning, there was a different sort of dread attached to that kind of thing at the School for the Gifted. Some people were doing what they could to try and locate the individuals who had vanished without a trace, and Rahne was one of those; his mutation allowed for a degree of usefulness in cases such as this, when people up and disappeared, and so long as there were trails to follow, he could do his part. But that was the problem. What trails he could find of the vanished few simply up and ended, there was nothing to follow after a certain point, leaving him baffled and frustrated. Rahne liked to help, didn't like to feel useless, wanted to pull his weight and do everything he could to solve the mystery; it was a big part of why he had joined the X-Men, why he had gone through all that training and stepped into battle with the others time after time, regardless of what happened to them in the field.
The weather was only just starting to turn in Westchester, the leaves were beginning to show that edge of fall, but it would be a while before they fell from the branches or the chill really started to form in the air. It wouldn't make much of a difference even then, Rahne wouldn't really notice it, certainly not when he was in wolf form when his tolerance for that chill heightened, thanks in part to his thick pelt. Those thoughts were lazily buzzing through the back of his brain as he loped out of the trees after taking it upon himself to scout to the very edges of the grounds for signs of the missing persons; the search had been fruitless, his tail was flicking back and forth, dissatisfied, little more than a twitch of irritation, not at any of the people who had vanished but at himself. ( Rahne hated dead ends. )
[ narrative; closed ]
The weather was only just starting to turn in Westchester, the leaves were beginning to show that edge of fall, but it would be a while before they fell from the branches or the chill really started to form in the air. It wouldn't make much of a difference even then, Rahne wouldn't really notice it, certainly not when he was in wolf form when his tolerance for that chill heightened, thanks in part to his thick pelt. Those thoughts were lazily buzzing through the back of his brain as he loped out of the trees after taking it upon himself to scout to the very edges of the grounds for signs of the missing persons; the search had been fruitless, his tail was flicking back and forth, dissatisfied, little more than a twitch of irritation, not at any of the people who had vanished but at himself. ( Rahne hated dead ends. )
September 12th, 2009
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)
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. )
September 11th, 2009
It always seemed to be late when she finished up in the studio these days. Luce supposed she was just falling into bad habits, not that they were really so terrible, since she had decided to postpone enrolling in university until after the New Year and didn't have too busy a schedule to keep to. Everyone else had left and before she knew it she was yawning and working the knuckle of one of her hands against her eye, swinging her visor off and dropping it to the work surface. Most definitely time to hit the hay. It took her a few minutes to clean up, wiping down the area she'd been using, washing her hands and putting everything back in its place before she was ready to go. At the door she paused, pulling the keys from her belt to lock up and reaching out to flick the lights off. They sputtered out overhead and she passed through the door, turning to slide the key into the lock. Through the glass she saw someone sitting on the far side of the room, their back to her and stopped what she was doing to watch them. Weird, she hadn't seen anyone in there besides her. Though maybe they'd been in the supply room or something.
Frowning lightly, she pushed the door open again and leant her head inside. "I'm closing up now," she called to the figure across the room, shrouded in darkness. Maybe it was a student who had fallen asleep, Luce had done that plenty of times. They didn't respond to her. Sighing, she started towards them, jangling her set of keys as the door swung shut behind her. "Sorry, but I need to lock up behind me. Last time I forgot Kevin roasted me." A light smile of camaraderie in the face of a terrifying teacher gained no response and it was as if a switch was flicked by the silence; Luce felt her senses prickle. ( Something was off here. )
[ NARRATIVE ]
Frowning lightly, she pushed the door open again and leant her head inside. "I'm closing up now," she called to the figure across the room, shrouded in darkness. Maybe it was a student who had fallen asleep, Luce had done that plenty of times. They didn't respond to her. Sighing, she started towards them, jangling her set of keys as the door swung shut behind her. "Sorry, but I need to lock up behind me. Last time I forgot Kevin roasted me." A light smile of camaraderie in the face of a terrifying teacher gained no response and it was as if a switch was flicked by the silence; Luce felt her senses prickle. ( Something was off here. )
September 10th, 2009
It wasn't even that remarkable a night, when it happened. On a spur of the moment they'd gone out to dinner, Laurie's idea of course, but Kevin had been unusually subdued and almost moody the entire way through the meal. As a result it had been left Laurie to fill the awkward, heavy silences between courses and more than once she'd caught the pitying stares from the man and woman at the table next to them. She supposed, to the rest of the world, they either looked like a couple on the verge of a break up or two complete strangers on an extremely disastrous first date. To her credit she hadn't called him out on his behaviour either, assuming that he was tired from work and hadn't had the heart to tell her no when she'd suggested they venture outside the mansion for dinner. She'd half expected him to head to his own room as soon as they'd returned home but he lingered in hers instead, his hands in his pockets while he watched her flutter around getting ready for bed. She'd left him in that same spot when she'd gone into the bathroom to brush her teeth, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that told her she needed to fill the silence with something, anything, no matter how trivial. ( Otherwise something bad was going to happen, her gut told her that much. )
[Narrative]
September 9th, 2009
King wasn't sure what woke him up. He was exhausted from the long day of school, the commute, the energetically enjoyable time he spent with his boyfriend before heading down to the art room to develop a roll of film. He had almost dozed off earlier while he ran the film cannister under water to clean off the developer, his chin resting in his palm, but the sound of heels clacking on the wooden floor had roused him again with a yawn. It had just been Betsy Braddock, her cool stare brushing across his face and sending a cold tremor of nervousness through him, but she had passed by the door without comment and he'd let her go without anything more than a cordial nod. Whenever he saw that girl, he couldn't focus on her beauty or her grace; as hard as he tried to pay attention to the kind of details that should have captured a teenage boy's imagination, all he could see was the shaved head and cocky smile of her brother. The one that he'd killed. It was hard to stay calm sometimes, to project that overall relaxed, unconcerned attitude that he could manage around anyone else, and every time they so much as brushed shoulders in the hallway, King felt like he was dodging bullets. He didn't want to think about how much she deserved to know what had been done to her, and he didn't want to think about what would happen when she found out. However it happened, it wasn't going to be from him. Certain secrets needed to be kept.
Despite the chilling brief encounter with Betsy, King hadn't been any more awake than he had been when he started developing his film, so he'd shook off whatever dark thoughts still lingered and finished up in the studio, hanging his wet negatives up to dry on the line before stumbling blindly back to his room. No, check that -- Prince's room, where he often ended up crashing regardless of the fact that he had the privilege of his own single now that he'd graduated. As a child, he probably would've killed for the privacy, and it certainly came in handy when he wanted to spend a night with Nico, but he was so used to the sound of another person breathing when he went to sleep that it was hard to relax without someone else nearby. Besides, it was Prince; no matter what some people said or what psychologists might surmise, it was perfectly acceptable for him to shove his twin brother over in the bed and fall asleep with his head on the same pillow. He was stressed by his new schedule and the pressures that he knew would pile on soon enough, so a little comfort from Prince was needed these days. They talked for a while before they curled up, sharing a set of headphones to listen to a couple of their favorite rallying battle marches, and King was unconscious by the time the third track queued up.
( But something had woken him up. )
[ NARRATIVE ]
Despite the chilling brief encounter with Betsy, King hadn't been any more awake than he had been when he started developing his film, so he'd shook off whatever dark thoughts still lingered and finished up in the studio, hanging his wet negatives up to dry on the line before stumbling blindly back to his room. No, check that -- Prince's room, where he often ended up crashing regardless of the fact that he had the privilege of his own single now that he'd graduated. As a child, he probably would've killed for the privacy, and it certainly came in handy when he wanted to spend a night with Nico, but he was so used to the sound of another person breathing when he went to sleep that it was hard to relax without someone else nearby. Besides, it was Prince; no matter what some people said or what psychologists might surmise, it was perfectly acceptable for him to shove his twin brother over in the bed and fall asleep with his head on the same pillow. He was stressed by his new schedule and the pressures that he knew would pile on soon enough, so a little comfort from Prince was needed these days. They talked for a while before they curled up, sharing a set of headphones to listen to a couple of their favorite rallying battle marches, and King was unconscious by the time the third track queued up.
( But something had woken him up. )
September 8th, 2009
[au and rw] You'll miss sunrise if you close your eyes, and that would break my heart in two.
It had been a good weekend. Johnny and the students and residents who wanted to go had flown down to North Carolina on Friday, to spend the weekend at his family's horse ranch. ..Or, well, not at, persay, despite his mother insisting that she could find room for them all, and that it wasn't right to make everyone stay in a hotel. Xavier and Johnny both had insisted that the group hunker down at a nearby locale, and Johnny took them all round the next day. They spent it looking at all the types of horses that the ranch had, riding a few of them, learning the innerworkings of the business, and of course looking at what colts were there to try and pick which one would be coming back to Xavier's with them. Sunday had been devoted to seeing Charleston, and then Monday morning they had flown home. Johnny had stayed back, in order to spend the holiday with his family, and also so that he could drive the horse back up the following week.
Monday actually hadn't turned out as planned, though. He'd gotten a call from a nearby ranch, wanting him to come by and look at a horse of theirs that they were worried about. There wasn't really much Johnny would be able to do in a couple of hours, but he could at least see what was going on, and figure out someone to recommend them to. By the time he was headed back to his family, the afternoon was getting late. He didn't think it would e a problem, but on his way back he couldn't get an answer at the house phone, which wasn't terribly normal. Driving up, he saw that all of the cars were there -- even those belonging to his siblings that had long since moved away. That was..odd. For the first time since coming back, Johnny felt a strong jolt of worry move through him. It was a sense of foreboding that only got stronger as he headed toward the door. He slowed as he walked, considering turning and leaving, getting back in the truck and taking off. He knew, logically, that there was no reason to think that, but he couldn't help it. That feeling was quickly shoved aside though -- if something was wrong, he needed to be there to help his family, not run from it.
( Getting to the door, he reached out to open it -- only to find it locked. )
(Narrative, closed)
Monday actually hadn't turned out as planned, though. He'd gotten a call from a nearby ranch, wanting him to come by and look at a horse of theirs that they were worried about. There wasn't really much Johnny would be able to do in a couple of hours, but he could at least see what was going on, and figure out someone to recommend them to. By the time he was headed back to his family, the afternoon was getting late. He didn't think it would e a problem, but on his way back he couldn't get an answer at the house phone, which wasn't terribly normal. Driving up, he saw that all of the cars were there -- even those belonging to his siblings that had long since moved away. That was..odd. For the first time since coming back, Johnny felt a strong jolt of worry move through him. It was a sense of foreboding that only got stronger as he headed toward the door. He slowed as he walked, considering turning and leaving, getting back in the truck and taking off. He knew, logically, that there was no reason to think that, but he couldn't help it. That feeling was quickly shoved aside though -- if something was wrong, he needed to be there to help his family, not run from it.
( Getting to the door, he reached out to open it -- only to find it locked. )
August 25th, 2009
The summer was drawing to an end, uneventfully. It was that time of year when the sun started to set a little earlier, enough for Adrien to notice when he went out to the back porch to smoke a cigarette at his habitually scheduled times and found the himself faced with an unexpectedly beautiful sunset. The sky was a solid lavender, and the large, stately clouds piled like bluffs overhead were reflecting incredible shades of gold, mauve, and blood red as the sun wavered behind heat distortion a few inches above the edge of the horizon. Colors he wouldn't have been able to identify before he started spending time in the art studio. Certain things just filtered into his consciousness without his trying, knowledge through proximity and osmosis: words he'd heard tossed around by the students, or the answers to questions he may have asked Luce while she worked. These days, he rarely visited the studio at all -- it was better that way for all concerned -- but certain things stuck with him, and at moments like this, drifted to the surface of his mind. Colors. It was a beautiful sight.
Adrien was calm. For once, few thoughts were drifting around in his head, and Kevin's practice at shielding his presence was clearly paying off. He didn't feel alone like this anymore, not ever, but there was no jumble of disorganized emotions and unrelated ideas for him to sort through anymore. It was nice. The link was a source of comfort to him now, something that he'd never really thought would be the case. There was still awkwardness at times, as was unavoidable, but the fact that he could share a moment like this with a friend of his was...connecting. He had lost his ability to touch again, and along with that many important things that had been nearly impossible to cope with at first, but by this point, he felt like he had an anchor to hold him as he slipped back into his old life. It had taken a lot of alcohol and time to get to this point again, to be fair. It was never easy to feel resigned over his situation, forced back on the ropes by all the things he couldn't control, and he still felt surges of anger at the unfairness of it all, but he had some security in his life again with his job and his friends, and when he was more or less alone like now, it was alright. Not great, but alright.
At least he wasn't drunk all the time. Baby steps.
[ open! ]
Adrien was calm. For once, few thoughts were drifting around in his head, and Kevin's practice at shielding his presence was clearly paying off. He didn't feel alone like this anymore, not ever, but there was no jumble of disorganized emotions and unrelated ideas for him to sort through anymore. It was nice. The link was a source of comfort to him now, something that he'd never really thought would be the case. There was still awkwardness at times, as was unavoidable, but the fact that he could share a moment like this with a friend of his was...connecting. He had lost his ability to touch again, and along with that many important things that had been nearly impossible to cope with at first, but by this point, he felt like he had an anchor to hold him as he slipped back into his old life. It had taken a lot of alcohol and time to get to this point again, to be fair. It was never easy to feel resigned over his situation, forced back on the ropes by all the things he couldn't control, and he still felt surges of anger at the unfairness of it all, but he had some security in his life again with his job and his friends, and when he was more or less alone like now, it was alright. Not great, but alright.
At least he wasn't drunk all the time. Baby steps.
August 23rd, 2009
It happened without any real signs that something was about to change. New York had been quiet, the summer relatively uneventful after the attacks on the city and the school. Like the world was actually taking pity on them, and giving the residents of Xavier's a break.
Because it did that so often.
It wasn't the world this time, though, that was about to test them. No cosmically bad universe-timing was the cause of this, no random invader wanting to cause mayhem or holding a vendetta. This was done out of love. They needed to be tested. All of them. This wouldn't be understood by them, their so-called friend knew that much. They would be sure it was another attack, perhaps the Brotherhood again, someone trying to trip them up. they wouldn't understand that it was being done to make them stronger.
Because they needed to be stronger.
Their friend would not let them continue like this. They needed to be steeled, to be made stronger, to face down what held them back and know that they could defeat it. If they had to be forced into it, then so be it.((Narrative, closed))
August 21st, 2009
It hadn't taken long for Aster to decide that the roof of the school was her favorite place to be. Honestly, she'd been leaning that way before she ever got up there, from the first time she caught sight of the building. Once she'd made her way up, gotten to stretch out and watch the sun set, she'd been absolutely sold. Maybe it was just the old-fashioned sunset-loving romantic in her, but she was pretty sure she could do this at least once a week for the rest of her life. Or at least until it started to get cold out and she had to decide between warmth indoors and the view outdoors.
Today she'd brought a bag up with her - a giant bath towel to stretch out on, a cheap paperback, a diet soda, and a bottle of brilliant red nail polish. It was almost like a trip to the beach, without that film of salt on her skin and sand getting in uncomfortable places. It was too hot to really do anything that involved moving around, even as the evening stretched on, but Aster's plans for the end of the day involved nothing more strenuous than soaking up the sunshine, painting her toenails, and following the plot of a fairly straightforward mystery novel. Fortunately she didn't sunburn easily, or her day might have ended much earlier than she'd hoped. Now, as the sky started to turn colors and the sun sank toward the horizon, she was putting the finishing touches on her toenails and whistling something that might have been Rogers & Hammerstein. Why had she ever protested her parents' decision to send her here? This place was perfect. The only thing that could make it better would be a little unexpected good company.
(open!)
Today she'd brought a bag up with her - a giant bath towel to stretch out on, a cheap paperback, a diet soda, and a bottle of brilliant red nail polish. It was almost like a trip to the beach, without that film of salt on her skin and sand getting in uncomfortable places. It was too hot to really do anything that involved moving around, even as the evening stretched on, but Aster's plans for the end of the day involved nothing more strenuous than soaking up the sunshine, painting her toenails, and following the plot of a fairly straightforward mystery novel. Fortunately she didn't sunburn easily, or her day might have ended much earlier than she'd hoped. Now, as the sky started to turn colors and the sun sank toward the horizon, she was putting the finishing touches on her toenails and whistling something that might have been Rogers & Hammerstein. Why had she ever protested her parents' decision to send her here? This place was perfect. The only thing that could make it better would be a little unexpected good company.
August 17th, 2009
Val's life was full of questions that had no answers. Where to go, how to feel, what to do -- he walked through most of his days in a blind haze of uncertainty that he dealt with by having a very narrow focus. As long as he kept his blinders on, he was usually alright. One step in front of the other. One task at a time. One major crisis. Val was almost methodical. If he tried to deal with everything at once, well, things had a tendency to become too confusing and complicated for him to solve, and he would retreat back to the basic tenets of his life that he knew best. Since coming to Xaviers, it had only become more and more apparent to him that he knew so very little. He felt constantly like a failure. Not only was he not good enough at taking care of his family, the one job he'd been given in life that mattered the most, but the whole situation seemed to be spiraling out of his control. Everything he'd been certain of, everything he thought he'd understood without needing to question it, had willfully been turned on its head. He had no idea where the events were leading him and he hated it. Admitting it was difficult even for him, but frankly, the more he thought about the way their comfortable little trio had unraveled, the more terrified and overwhelmed he felt, and the more he retreated into his niche in the medlabs. Things like the First Aid course and learning how to use the equipment and taking care of whatever aches or scrapes came his direction, that was something that Val could handle. And so he willfully ignored the bigger issues at hand. It was cowardly of him, even destructive to their family in ways that made him feel vaguely ill to think about, but for some time now, he'd been sticking to that path. One step in front of the other. No time for wondering how badly he must have fucked up as a brother.
( Sooner rather than later, however, he knew he had to deal with some of those unanswered questions. )
[ NARRATIVE ]
( Sooner rather than later, however, he knew he had to deal with some of those unanswered questions. )
July 28th, 2009
There were days when Jamie didn't like his powers. There were days when he loved them. It tended to come and go, really, depending on what his dupes were doing at any given moment. When they behaved? Jamie loved the company. When they didn't? Well, that made things awkward, and Jamie had never been good at handling awkward situations. He tended to stutter and shuffle and make weird noises.
It was bad.
Today, his dupes were not going to behave themselves. He knew that from the moment he woke up. Something felt off, like his skin didn't feel right. He'd thought it had to do with the suit he wore all the time. His father had always been the one responsible for taking care of it, repairing it. But that had been over a year ago, and Jamie was really only capable of basic maintenance on the suit.
It would, eventually, give out, and that was the one thing that Jamie was really, really afraid of. He never knew what he was going to get when he purposefully made a duplicate anymore. When things happened by accident, it seemed worse somehow. Like, not only was completely incompetent with his powers, but that he couldn't even control himself. That was pretty much the weird feeling he had that day - like he had screwed up.
He didn't know anything for certain, of course. There were no weird bruises that said he'd accidentally bumped against something, and Jamie didn't feel that weird second sense he usually did when a dupe was out roaming around. No more than he usually did, anyway, because he still had a couple of dupes out in the world doing what they did best or what they liked or whatever, Jamie didn't know.
So as far as he knew, there wasn't another him roaming around.
That didn't stop him from standing in the hall outside his room, asking the people who happened to walk by, "You, uh, haven't happened to see, um, me, have you?" He was being paranoid, but it never hurt to check! Well, never hurt beyond making people think Jamie was obviously a little...off.
( open! )
It was bad.
Today, his dupes were not going to behave themselves. He knew that from the moment he woke up. Something felt off, like his skin didn't feel right. He'd thought it had to do with the suit he wore all the time. His father had always been the one responsible for taking care of it, repairing it. But that had been over a year ago, and Jamie was really only capable of basic maintenance on the suit.
It would, eventually, give out, and that was the one thing that Jamie was really, really afraid of. He never knew what he was going to get when he purposefully made a duplicate anymore. When things happened by accident, it seemed worse somehow. Like, not only was completely incompetent with his powers, but that he couldn't even control himself. That was pretty much the weird feeling he had that day - like he had screwed up.
He didn't know anything for certain, of course. There were no weird bruises that said he'd accidentally bumped against something, and Jamie didn't feel that weird second sense he usually did when a dupe was out roaming around. No more than he usually did, anyway, because he still had a couple of dupes out in the world doing what they did best or what they liked or whatever, Jamie didn't know.
So as far as he knew, there wasn't another him roaming around.
That didn't stop him from standing in the hall outside his room, asking the people who happened to walk by, "You, uh, haven't happened to see, um, me, have you?" He was being paranoid, but it never hurt to check! Well, never hurt beyond making people think Jamie was obviously a little...off.
July 22nd, 2009
Shelby was starting to get used to this whole Xavier’s thing. So far the place seemed pretty awesome and definitely fun, but it certainly had its own brand of crazy. She was starting to think that maybe it was just a part of the mutant thing. Not having been around any other mutants before, that one was hard for her to figure out. Or maybe it was a part of the teacher thing, since so far it seemed to her that the faculty and staff were the ones most prone to instability and general asshat behavior. Maybe it was some kind of coping mechanism for having to teach at the mutant version of Hogwarts? Who knew? In any event, it didn’t entirely strike her as being that big of a deal, and it was all stuff that Shelby tried not to dwell on too much. And with work, along with things like holiday celebrations and yes week, it wasn’t very hard to keep that stuff off her mind.
Today none of those things were on the roster, and the day was nice and clear, so Shelby gathered a few items in a tote bag and ventured out onto the grounds. Once she found a tree that was both suitable and climbable, she scaled her way up and found a nice spot that could support her weight and wasn’t too uncomfortable to stay in for a while. She was assuming the birds here wouldn’t really be different from the ones in the park she frequented at home. After all, it wasn’t like she was all that far away from it. Still, it would be worth it to see what she could see. But firstly, hear what she could hear. Leaning back, Shelby rested her head against the rough trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. Now that she was still and quiet it didn’t take long for the birdcalls to meet her ears. Each one was acknowledged and noted before focusing on another- eastern bluebird, purple martin, ruby throated hummingbird, red headed woodpecker- nothing out of the ordinary, really. And the sounds were close enough she should be able to get a good luck at some of them. Not that Shelby doubted her ability to identify, but she always wanted to get a good look at whatever she was hearing whenever possible. After all, that was kind of the whole point of bird watching. Pulling a very nice pair of binoculars out of her bag, Shelby shifted around some to get into a good position for spotting anything. And oh so gracefully knocked her bag to the ground in the process. The binoculars she held fast to, her fingers automatically curling tight around the strap as she groaned and mumbled at her own klutziness the second she felt anything slipping. The binoculars were expensive enough that she would not be too happy about having to replace them. The miscellany in her bag, including her birding journal, was obviously not considered as valuable. Everything inside should be ok if it hit the ground, and thankfully her cell phone was in the pocket of her jeans so that wasn’t a worry either. The only thing in there she remotely worried about was the sandwich she’d packed for lunch, which probably had would be meeting a very flat end very soon. Smooshed sandwiches 4tl.
[Julian]
Today none of those things were on the roster, and the day was nice and clear, so Shelby gathered a few items in a tote bag and ventured out onto the grounds. Once she found a tree that was both suitable and climbable, she scaled her way up and found a nice spot that could support her weight and wasn’t too uncomfortable to stay in for a while. She was assuming the birds here wouldn’t really be different from the ones in the park she frequented at home. After all, it wasn’t like she was all that far away from it. Still, it would be worth it to see what she could see. But firstly, hear what she could hear. Leaning back, Shelby rested her head against the rough trunk of the tree and closed her eyes. Now that she was still and quiet it didn’t take long for the birdcalls to meet her ears. Each one was acknowledged and noted before focusing on another- eastern bluebird, purple martin, ruby throated hummingbird, red headed woodpecker- nothing out of the ordinary, really. And the sounds were close enough she should be able to get a good luck at some of them. Not that Shelby doubted her ability to identify, but she always wanted to get a good look at whatever she was hearing whenever possible. After all, that was kind of the whole point of bird watching. Pulling a very nice pair of binoculars out of her bag, Shelby shifted around some to get into a good position for spotting anything. And oh so gracefully knocked her bag to the ground in the process. The binoculars she held fast to, her fingers automatically curling tight around the strap as she groaned and mumbled at her own klutziness the second she felt anything slipping. The binoculars were expensive enough that she would not be too happy about having to replace them. The miscellany in her bag, including her birding journal, was obviously not considered as valuable. Everything inside should be ok if it hit the ground, and thankfully her cell phone was in the pocket of her jeans so that wasn’t a worry either. The only thing in there she remotely worried about was the sandwich she’d packed for lunch, which probably had would be meeting a very flat end very soon. Smooshed sandwiches 4tl.
July 8th, 2009
Oh God! Was it left, right, and then another left? Or was it right, right, and then left?
The school was so overwhelming. This whole week was overwhelming. It seemed that the past week had been nothing but running. Running from people, running to people, running to flights, running into people. Even though she had taken a nap when she got here yesterday morning after the tour (which had been cut short by her apparent lack of attention) and then slept nearly the entire night through, Heather was still dragging a bit. Some had even said that it would take up to two weeks for her body to adjust to the new time. It wasn't really surprising really. She had just flown to the other side of the world. Literally. She had abruptly left her life, her parents, and her little brother behind. But she would just have to take everything one step at a time. Eventually she'd catch up, right?
Today on her agenda, she was to meet Mr. Rankin at a place on her map called the "Danger Room". Why in the hell would they have a room named Danger? This place made her senses tingle bad constantly. She had heard of talks of teams and training like this was a military school! She could definitely understand having a bunch of mutant kids not knowing how to control their powers could possibly be dangerous. But there was just something about this that made her feel like they didn't put something in the brochure about it.
Finding where she was currently, she readjusted her route to the room and picked up the pace. She really didn't want to be late. That would just be embarrassing. Dodging some students, which she'll let you know is not easy with all 5'10 of herself, she wound her way down another hallway. Finding herself at a dead end, she frowned and looked at her map again. No, this was the right place, but where was the door? There weren't any doorknobs or anything.
[OPEN TO CAL!}
The school was so overwhelming. This whole week was overwhelming. It seemed that the past week had been nothing but running. Running from people, running to people, running to flights, running into people. Even though she had taken a nap when she got here yesterday morning after the tour (which had been cut short by her apparent lack of attention) and then slept nearly the entire night through, Heather was still dragging a bit. Some had even said that it would take up to two weeks for her body to adjust to the new time. It wasn't really surprising really. She had just flown to the other side of the world. Literally. She had abruptly left her life, her parents, and her little brother behind. But she would just have to take everything one step at a time. Eventually she'd catch up, right?
Today on her agenda, she was to meet Mr. Rankin at a place on her map called the "Danger Room". Why in the hell would they have a room named Danger? This place made her senses tingle bad constantly. She had heard of talks of teams and training like this was a military school! She could definitely understand having a bunch of mutant kids not knowing how to control their powers could possibly be dangerous. But there was just something about this that made her feel like they didn't put something in the brochure about it.
Finding where she was currently, she readjusted her route to the room and picked up the pace. She really didn't want to be late. That would just be embarrassing. Dodging some students, which she'll let you know is not easy with all 5'10 of herself, she wound her way down another hallway. Finding herself at a dead end, she frowned and looked at her map again. No, this was the right place, but where was the door? There weren't any doorknobs or anything.
July 7th, 2009
Getting Nate's psyche out of Rogue's body had not proved to be a simple thing. For months now, Madelyne had spent hours at a time with the girl down in the medlabs, simply sitting face to face with her, vitals and brain activity monitored by machines while Madelyne drew herself a better mental picture of what was going on inside that pretty little skull. She had theories. Rogue's powers were incredibly mysterious, and it had taken her a while to decipher what exactly she was even looking at when she attempted to observe. Some days, it was difficult to get past Rogue's own formidable psychic defenses, thanks to her borrowed powers. The process was frustrating, slow, headache-inducing, and deeply anxiety-provoking, especially on the days when Rachel hovered distrustfully close or Val watched from a corner, and Madelyne was more than aware that time was running out.
The effects of Nate's incredibly strong presence on Rogue's body were easy for her to sense at first, but at some point, it had begun to show on the monitors, and then to the naked eye. Exhaustion. Sallow skin, cracked lips, dark bruises underneath her eyes and the sharp angles of bones almost visible below the surface of her body. She listened to the other girl talk to the air and felt that psychic presence inside of Rogue stirring, and in turn, she felt the subtle connection within herself reach out as though trying to connect with her other half. Nate Grey needed to be freed.
Rogue's collapse had been a long time coming, but Madelyne was still not prepared when she got notice of Johnny's message on the journals. She could feel some of what was happening, and she clung to that telepathic connection to Nate as strongly as she could as she rushed around the medlabs, grabbing the monitors and electrodes that she would need to make sure that Rogue was still with them. As soon as the stable hand brought Rogue in and settled her on a bed, she ordered him away and got to work. Hooking the girl to the machines only took a moment with the help of her telekinesis, and she laid her two fingers against the pulsing vein at her throat even as she turned on the monitors. Thready, but there. Breathing shallowly. There was no telling when she'd come to, if she had enough strength to regain consciousness.
So Madelyne turned within herself. Reaching for that thread of a link that tied her to Rogue -- and by extension, the comatose body of Nate Grey himself lying only one bed over, wrapped up in wires and tubes to keep his shell alive through this experience -- Madelyne focused. If only she could find a way to pull Nate free without destroying them all...
[ Open to Rogue & Nate ]
The effects of Nate's incredibly strong presence on Rogue's body were easy for her to sense at first, but at some point, it had begun to show on the monitors, and then to the naked eye. Exhaustion. Sallow skin, cracked lips, dark bruises underneath her eyes and the sharp angles of bones almost visible below the surface of her body. She listened to the other girl talk to the air and felt that psychic presence inside of Rogue stirring, and in turn, she felt the subtle connection within herself reach out as though trying to connect with her other half. Nate Grey needed to be freed.
Rogue's collapse had been a long time coming, but Madelyne was still not prepared when she got notice of Johnny's message on the journals. She could feel some of what was happening, and she clung to that telepathic connection to Nate as strongly as she could as she rushed around the medlabs, grabbing the monitors and electrodes that she would need to make sure that Rogue was still with them. As soon as the stable hand brought Rogue in and settled her on a bed, she ordered him away and got to work. Hooking the girl to the machines only took a moment with the help of her telekinesis, and she laid her two fingers against the pulsing vein at her throat even as she turned on the monitors. Thready, but there. Breathing shallowly. There was no telling when she'd come to, if she had enough strength to regain consciousness.
So Madelyne turned within herself. Reaching for that thread of a link that tied her to Rogue -- and by extension, the comatose body of Nate Grey himself lying only one bed over, wrapped up in wires and tubes to keep his shell alive through this experience -- Madelyne focused. If only she could find a way to pull Nate free without destroying them all...
July 4th, 2009
Holidays (barring disasters) were always a fun time at Xavier's. Maybe it was because so many of them didn't have homes to leave to, and the school wanted to really make itself into a new home for all of them. A place where they could have family and friends, if they didn't have any family and friends left on the outside. There was that need to look after ones own, to be protective and supportive and encouraging, and so the faculty and staff always strove to make holiday celebrations large and welcoming. Today was no different.
The back of the mansion had been decorated with streamers, balloons, and confetti, and of course the appropriate miniature flags were all around (and in the front a well). The pool had -- through use of someone's mutation -- been transformed to look like the water was colored to resemble a flag. There wasn't any dye in it though, so swimming left you perfectly safe and the same color as you were upon jumping in. A few grills were set up, cooking burgers, hot dogs, chicken, ribs and even tofu and other vegetarian options for those that wanted it. Long picnic tables were set up to eat at, each adorned with punch bowls and bowls of various chips, salads, and desserts.
Jubilee wasn't there to provide the fireworks and so various kinds had been bought instead, to be set off when the evening arrived. Until then, there were sparklers for everyone to enjoy.((Open to all! Feel free to set your tags at any point, if you want it during the day or in the evening for the fireworks, etc))