Jean Grey (jean_grey) wrote in parabolical, |
The sound of laughing children often made Jean think of home, about Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. She had spent most of her life within those fine halls of higher learning. She had been the Professor's very first (and most prized) pupil. Scott, on the other hand, had been his very first X-Man.
Even back then it wasn't simple, but it had been simpler. Magneto wasn't yet a megalomaniac terrorist hellbent on controlling the world; he had been a friend and a mentor.... someone she had looked up to. Then one day, that had all faded away like a distant memory when he let his anger take the forefront and he had just gone away. Just like that, he had gone from being a trusted ally to being a much feared and revered enemy.
But how could she blame a man who had seen the very worst of human nature? He had had to endure spending time within the concentration camps during the Holocaust. He had seen things—done things that were things nightmares were made of.
He didn't want to have to live life under humanity's boot heel. He wanted a life, free from the ugly prejudices mankind harbored for those who were simply different from the traditional standards. They hated people for things they had no control over—Did this make Magneto's crusade justified?
Yes and no. While Jean could understand why he had resorted to violence to enforce his message, she knew it wasn't the way. Though really, when it came down to it, she had no room to talk about what was right and what was wrong. She had wiped out many lives, without so much as a cause to hide behind. She had killed because she simply could.
Or at least, the Phoenix had.
All these thoughts and feelings swirled around her consciousness, as she stood a few good yards away from the older man dressed in white.
Was she making the right decision helping Jacen and Tenel Ka?
It was a bit too late to back out now, but she couldn't help but have her little doubts and insecurities about this coming evening. Tonight would be the first time she used her powers extensively since returning from the dead. Could she trust herself not to lose control?
Turning herself slightly, she got a glimpse of white in her corner of her eye. She turned completely and saw.... Magneto?
Jean stood in a stunned silence for a moment, watching the man as he sat on the bench. She moved a bit closer, watching his age-lined face—he wore his face, but it wasn't him. Something about his eyes gave that away.... and the clothes and the hair.
Magneto might've had a natural flair for the dramatics, but he wasn't that flamboyant in his fashion tastes.