InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "What duck?"

Jean Grey is fire and (life_incarnate) wrote in rooms,
@ 2015-09-15 12:37:00

Entry tags:

!marvel comics, *journal, *log, billy kaplan, faol reece, jean grey, liam roberts, louis donovan, maddie kate robinson, pepper potts, ronan xander, wanda maximoff

Public; Mutants
[After the reports of this come out.]

[Public]

No matter what the news reports, I feel the need to reiterate that not all mutants are terrorists.

[Individual locks: Faol R, Ronan X, Pepper P, MK R, Wanda M, Billy K]

I need to know that you are safe.

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	Re: Anon/Jean G strikethose 2015-09-16 02:04 am UTC (link)
	[...] I have heard of it, yes. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G life_incarnate 2015-09-16 02:22 am UTC (link)
	I'm ~~Phoenix~~ Jean Grey, acting Headmaster. I can give you a safe place to stay. We will get you through this. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G strikethose 2015-09-16 02:32 am UTC (link)
	But I don't know what's happened. I don't know if I'm a [...] mutant or [...] I just don't know. This happened before, something like it, in another door. Something changes me, and a piece of me is gone. I am afraid. I am very afraid. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G life_incarnate 2015-09-16 03:06 am UTC (link)
	We can figure out what happened. It doesn't matter if you're a mutant or not. Mutatis mutandis. You're welcome here. I won't tell you not to be afraid, fear is normal. I will tell you that help is here for you if you want it. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G strikethose 2015-09-16 03:11 am UTC (link)
	I won't hurt anyone again. I promise. I've hurt enough people by being weak, and it won't happen again. I'll sort this out. [...] I've made people worried about me, which I didn't plan for. I need to be sure they're alright. Be sure they don't worry. [...] If I come, do I have to stay? (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

Re: Anon/Jean G

life_incarnate
2015-09-16 12:59 pm UTC (link)

I believe you. I know better than most about hurting people by being weak. You would be free to leave whenever you wanted. Just because the door is open for you does not mean that it will lock behind you. I understand that there are people you need to tend to. I would never keep you from them. I am simply offering a helping hand. It is up to you if you wish to take it.

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	Re: Anon/Jean G strikethose 2015-09-16 10:56 pm UTC (link)
	[...] You are right. It would be better for everyone if I went somewhere. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G life_incarnate 2015-09-17 12:50 am UTC (link)
	[Hesitant to push.] If not here, is there somewhere you can go where you will feel safe? That is my main concern. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G strikethose 2015-09-17 01:46 am UTC (link)
	I don't know where would be safe. [...] I can come meet with you. I don't know if I can stay. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	Re: Anon/Jean G life_incarnate 2015-09-17 02:00 am UTC (link)
	That is all I ask. I will be expecting you. Thank you. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

[quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-09-20 05:32 am UTC (link)

[Louis arrived at the manor late, wrapped in a comfortable fisherman's sweater that's been in his closet for ages. It was a concession, as he stopped at the apartment he had barely moved into when they were all called to Silent Hill. It still smelled of fresh paint and stale dust from the last tenant, and being there made the uncomfortable feeling in his chest worse.

It was hard to think. Hard? Nigh impossible. And it wasn't just the trip to a nightmare door, or the shock of being chased by a terrorist group, or knowing what had happened in the subway. Every time he tried to grapple with these things, with one, with all, he drew further back from the thoughts until they became not much more than loose concepts. He missed the train going to upstate New York twice, simply staring off into space and thinking about nothing. He was staring straight ahead, right on time. Then he blinked and then was fifteen minutes later, and the platform was empty.

By the time he got out of the taxi at the gates, from a driver who gave him a long look when he told him where to stop, he was bone tired and it was well after dark. He pressed the buzzer and leaned heavily on the gate when it clicked open. He shut it behind himself slowly, and then halted for a moment.

Where was he, precisely?

Oh, yes. The manor. He said he would come.

Numbly, he approached the front door, his small bag slung over his arm. He was a jumble of discontent and weary sadness, about so many things. He had considered that he might go into this place and not be able to come out again, but that might be best. He had meant what he told Cris. He wouldn't be a burden, and Sam was troubled enough without his presence in her life.

He knocked, twice, on the door.]

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

life_incarnate
2015-09-20 06:42 pm UTC (link)

[Perhaps this wasn't the best time for anyone to be at the school. Wanda was still not well. Domino had disappeared. One of the students had gone invisible and couldn't figure out how to reappear. And Jean? Jean was dealing with the constant screeching of the Phoenix Force. It had already been concerned with the lack of mutants, but threats against that population forced Jean into a paranoia that made her want nothing more than to gather them all together for protection.

They are all going to die. The Witch will destroy them all away if the general population doesn't kill them first. Burn her. Kill the witch. The world will be safe. It will be right. She breaks the order of the universe. We're in danger. Danger. The witch is a threat. I know. We know. We are one. Always and forever. Feel it. I'm right.

"ENOUGH!" The edges of the words bled into the cosmos, Jean's voice shaking from the strain of holding back the creature that wanted nothing more than to gain control for only a moment. A moment was all the Phoenix Force needed, and it was so close. The fire that had erupted from Jean's body died down, flames in her eyes and hair licking her face with power before they flickered out. She always had someone to lean on, to turn to, and now she was alone. We are one. We are together. She had to be the strong one, the one people could rely on, but how when there was no way she could rely on her own thoughts anymore?

The knock on the door took her by surprise, breaking the conflict inside of her body that threatened to eviscerate any humanity she had remaining within. They had come for the mutants. It was too late. She'd have to try and harness the Phoenix's power. To protect them. Not because it was more exhilarating than any sensation a human could fathom. Her mind reached out to scan the grounds, expecting anger and hatred but met with only a singular entity that was clearly not here to attack. Jean pulled her telepathy back and rushed to the door, opening it with no hesitation. The redhead looked tired, dark circles under green eyes, and the fitted white blouse wrinkled and untucked from her jeans. The exhaustion was quickly replaced by pure concern, features softening as she looked over the man standing before her.] Come in. Please. [No wings, so it could be safe to assume this was the anonymous voice on the journals, but she'd burned herself before with assumptions.] I'm Jean Grey. [A tilt of her head, her lips quirked into an easy smile, and she moved aside to give him room to enter.] We spoke earlier, yes?

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-09-21 04:12 am UTC (link)

[Louis heard the noise within, heard the shouting, and he almost backed away there and then. If there was any good excuse to give all this up and just go home, a burst of light and a shout that shook him to his core was more than enough.

When the door abruptly opened a moment later, he was already a few steps away. Whatever he'd expected after the light show that bled through the windows, it was not a kind, tired looking redhead. Hadn't there just been an earth-shattering shout from just where she was standing? But she seemed...ordinary. Aside from her beauty, of course.]

We did. [The Scottish-by-way-of-British accent was generally unexpected, as was his shock of blond curls, though they were tamped down at the moment. He, too, seemed tired. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than a few hours at a time, and his exhaustion made him leery. The last time he had been this bone-tired had been when the god had him, when he did not sleep for a year.

He was skittish, anxious and yet distant.] Thank you. [He stepped inside, moved past her, took in the lobby. It was very nice, and no doubt he wouldn't remember a thing about it later on.

He stood inside for almost an entire minute before his sluggish mind suggested he ought to introduce himself.]

Louis Donovan. [He extended a hand to her, unthinking.] Pleased to meet you.

[On the surface he seemed exhausted and troubled. If she probed, however, what lay beneath was more disturbing - Louis was not all there.

Not in the figurative sense that he had finally gone completely mad - though it might have a little to do with that as well. No, but there was distinct lack inside him, a missing part, a thinness to his inner being. Some of him was simply gone. Not lost, however, or separated, as he had been when someone had once stolen his soul from his body. There was a thread that led away, a connection to something larger than himself, and it suggested that what was missing had only...wandered. But it hadn't come back.

Externally this manifested as tiredness, but also too much calm for someone who had just caused a major domestic incident and seen a woman with her eyes torn out a few days before.]

Could we talk somewhere? [A gentle enough request. Somewhere more private than the foyer. That seemed good.]

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

life_incarnate
2015-09-22 02:54 am UTC (link)

[The accent did take her by surprise, but pleasantly so. Jean kept the gentle smile on her face, giving this man a once over with a dart of her eyes. The weariness, the anxiety, it was plain on his face, and Jean wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him to tell him everything was going to be alright.

The door shut behind them, and she grew more worried as the man simply stood there in the foyer for far too long. Jean had those telepathic walls up in spite of how easy it would be to just take the information she wanted, and while this man, tired and worn as he appeared, didn't seem to be the type that would snap at her, she wasn't going to take the risk of scaring him away.] The pleasure is mine, Louis. [She took his hand, her flesh hot to the touch, fire coursing through her veins.]

Of course. [Her hand brushed against the back of his arm, a soft guidance towards the stairs before her fingers trailed free.] My office is upstairs. [She kept her pace slow to walk beside him, leading him into what she always knew as Charles' office. But Charles was dead. Scott had killed him. Because of the Phoenix. Domino had been telling the truth, she knew that, but it had all seemed so unbelievable. Scott, her Scott, had murdered the man they treated as their father. This was why the Phoenix Force needed to be controlled. Bright green eyes stared off into infinity as her feet moved in rote to the ornate office, furnished with sumptuous chairs, expensive artwork, and a massive desk that commanded the room.

However, Jean instead led them to one of the couches in the corner, comfortable to sink into and far less formal than being around the desk. That was for official business. This wasn't a lecture for an unruly child.] Please. [She motioned for him to join her as she sat, long legs crossed before her, and concern for this man written all over her features.] How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? A drink?

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-09-22 04:40 am UTC (link)

[She was warm to the touch, her skin almost hot, and even benumbed he noticed that discrepancy. How interesting. The flare of light he'd seen inside might have been her after all. Well, she was a mutant. Everyone here was.

Though he wasn't yet convinced he personally fell into that category. What had happened in the subway had felt more like a terrible accident than the blossoming of some previously hidden power, and he continued to hope it would just...wear off. As if it would heal, like a sprain, or fall away over time.

Her light touch didn't trouble him. He was comfortable being led, just now. It was such a relief just to be told where he ought to be that he didn't worry about where they might be going. Something about her fizzed the back of his head with warning, but he ignored it. More than anything he wanted to trust someone right now. He wanted to lean on someone who seemed as if they knew better than him. Whether it was a symptom of being that person for other people for much too long, or just a side effect of feeling absent in his own skull, he was content to go where she wanted to go.

When they reached the office, he paused in the doorway, unsure where he should put himself. He was glad that they bypassed the rather ominous desk for the soft couch in the corner, which he sank into, keeping a hand tight to the end of the arm.]

Fine. [Automatic, unquestioning. A pause.] No - I - water, thank you. [Even simple questions seemed complex to answer adequately. Then, automatic again.] I'm sorry.

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

life_incarnate
2015-09-23 02:46 am UTC (link)

[Jean raised her hand for a moment, about to telekinetically open the hidden bar in the wall, before she realized it would be less jarring for him if she did things normally.] You don't need to apologize. [She smiled softly and pushed herself up off of the couch to follow the nearby wall. A tap on one of the wooden panels and it slid open to reveal the small bar, and the redhead pulled two bottles of water from the chiller before returning to the couch.

He was tense, gripping the arm of the couch as though it were going to slip away from him.] Why don't you start at the beginning? [The water was offered to him, and Jean leaned forward, her attention solely on Louis now. She could see the dullness in his gaze, the dark that was worn on his features. Perhaps he wasn't a mutant, but it did not matter to Jean. He needed help, and that's what the school was there for. It may have been selfish, but for a brief moment Jean wished there was someone else here and able to assist. Not with Louis, but in general. Her own issues were put on the back burner constantly, and she could feel her patience with the world stretching thin.]

You said this happened in another door, was it the same? [The last thing she wanted was to barrage him with questions, especially since he was clearly scattered. Her head tilted in concern, and she rested her arm along the back of the couch. If he had problems explaining, then she'd offer to read his mind, but for now she would let him go at his own pace.]

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-09-25 01:56 am UTC (link)

[He took the water from her with quiet thanks, cracking it open and drinking a good quarter of it. He was thirstier than he'd thought - when was the last time he'd eaten?

The beginning. He took a short breath, looking up at her.] I don't think it's related. Only that this place...singles out those who have already been somehow touched by the strange. [Distant as he was from himself, the thought of that time sent a shiver down his spine.

The lights overhead went strangely pale - not a flicker, but a thinning of the light. Then it was rich, full yellow again, incandescent as before.]

I was...taken by a group of people who worshipped a dead god. They offered me to it as a vessel. Of sorts. [He swallowed.] They took...my soul. From me. And then let the god use me as a door to the world. [He looked down, past his hands, through the floor, it seemed.] Someone helped me close it off, and to get my soul back, which was kind. But people died.

[If he hadn't been so separated from emotional immediacy or consequences, perhaps this would have felt like a very dangerous thing to tell a stranger. But he was so open and so apart from what might go wrong that he almost didn't consider how badly it could turn. Now that he was talking, it simply spilled out of him - things he hadn't said to anyone.]

My brother was seeing a woman who was trapped by a terrible door. We went in after her. It was...she didn't - we all had a difficult time. But she was...violated, and her eyes were taken from her. And my sister was there, and I have no idea what she saw, but I'm afraid she may have gone back to drugs. And my brother to the bottle, and god knows what else. I came back through the door with them, and we took this woman to the hospital. I only wanted to go home. Just to go home.

[The words were now a fractured flow. He shouldn't have said any of this. He hadn't been frank with Sam about it - why be frank with a complete stranger?

The next section, though, was obviously more difficult to relate.] I was in an accident. With a woman. In a room, off the subway. She asked for my help - she - [Then it broke off, without words, just the white and the cold heat, and being stretched through a billion on billion seconds, being torn across threads of data a hundred thousand miles long, being undone. He couldn't speak of that, of what had happened. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, so he shut it again, and looked down into his lap, fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. His voice sounded strange to himself, thin and choked.] I don't know. I don't want anything else. I don't know.

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

life_incarnate
2015-09-28 02:37 am UTC (link)

[Jean's eyes flicked upwards when the lighting changed, and while perhaps the two incidents he referred to were not related, she knew better than to think he hadn't caused that somehow. It was brief, though, and she paid it little mind as she was more interested in his story. That may help to explain, and the more she knew, the better she could help.

Emerald eyes flicked along his profile, watching his lips move as she listened intently. The part of dead gods and soul stealing reminded Jean of Madelyne, but she knew better than to think Scott's ex-wife and Jean's clone had anything to do with what happened to him. However, her reaction was muted, sympathy radiating from her though there was little shock in her features. Just another day in the life of the X-Men. Not that she couldn't recognize how difficult it would be for someone that wasn't used to those sorts of things happening.

The part about the door elicited more from her, but not by much. She was pained he had to worry about his family's vices on top of the knowledge of what happened to that poor woman. His desire to simply go home was entirely justified. Home represented safety and security, a place of comforting familiarity. Jean could imagine it made him feel selfish, but he wasn't. If he was, he wouldn't have gone through the door in the first place. It was difficult, yes, but for right this moment, he needed to be selfish. He needed to only concern himself with making sure he was better.

The rest trailed off, and that was the part that Jean was at least somewhat familiar with. The subway. How he dropped the conversation was worrisome, and there was that urge of fire to reach into his mind and just take what she wanted to know. In time. Not without his permission.

The redhead slipped closer to Louis, her hand idly and instinctively reaching out to rub his shoulder in that natural maternal comfort which came to Jean so easily. She probably needed that physical connection more than he, but her touch was still soft and warm, intended for him alone. He'd been through so much.] Shhh, it's okay. It will all be okay, Louis. I will see to that. [Her words were filled with a surety that even Jean wasn't certain she could promise, but she could swear to make helping him a priority.] But I need to know what happened in the subway. [She pauses, knowing how difficult words seemed to be for him.] You don't need to say anything. Have you dealt with a telepath before?

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-09-29 02:49 am UTC (link)

[Jean was a positive presence, and a kind one. When she reached out to touch his arm, he didn't flinch away - when she rubbed his shoulder, he didn't shrink back. He knew it had been hard, lately, but it had been hard for years. He had always been able to pull himself back together again eventually, even when he dropped off into thin air and madness. He liked a world that made sense, a world treated the people he cared about kindly. This accident, Meredith's horrific fate, the cult, they disrupted that reality. They made normalcy shrink further and further into the distance, until he couldn't make it out.

He was aware that Jean was being generous, with her time, with her person, and he was able to feel grateful for that. He was always the last to ask for help or speak up, but this couldn't turn out the way things had the last time. He had to sort himself out, and he was lucky she was willing to assist.

In his right mind, he would have been more suspicious, but this was desperation. He looked back at her, dull gray eyes and a hunted edge.] No. [He was nervous, that much was obvious, but he did manage to put together what she was asking him - if she could read his mind, this would be much easier. He paused for a moment.]

Whatever it is you do, go ahead.

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

life_incarnate
2015-09-30 11:57 am UTC (link)

[Jean gave him a small smile and nodded. He appeared so worn, and were she being honest, she was surprised he didn't pull away from her. She was glad he didn't, and her hand remained upon his shoulder, thumb idly rubbing up and down. That scalding wildfire crept up her spine, spreading to her shoulder blades, where it balled and gathered as a threat to burst forth as wings. Phoenix wanted to be free, to be uncaged, to shout when Jean would only allow a whisper. Louis' nearness, secured by that physical touch, helped her to contain the cosmic beast, if only because his proximity reminded her of the damage she could do.

She didn't need to make her presence known in his mind, but she thought it would be better that way. Fiery tendrils netted around his frontal lobe, and suddenly she was just as bared as he was. The connection allowed for him to feel her emotions; her need to help, the deep-rooted maternal concern for this stranger, pure love and passion paired with a struggle to hold something back for his safety, even a flickering of relief that he wasn't offended by the idea of her being in his mind.

Her voice was soft, an ethereal whisper that spread through the outermost layer of his brain,] Show me. All you have to do is remember.

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-10-01 01:22 am UTC (link)

[He apparently hadn't expected the sheer power of it, the sensation of something immense being held back for his benefit, because he tensed from the base of his spine through the top of his head when he felt those hot white tendrils sliding into his thoughts. He didn't feel much more than a flush of muted fear, every emotion dampened by the missing pieces.

It didn't have shape so much as volume, that emptiness, that missing part of his attention and awareness. Her voice was gentle even if that enfolding power represented something so vast and terrifying that he couldn't bear to peek beyond its surface. She asked him to remember, and he did.

He remembered in fragments, though they were vivid and fresh from its recent proximity. He remembered Peggy Carter's lovely face, her bright lipstick and her outside-time quality. He remembered helping her open the tiny door, concealed in the abandoned spur of the subway. He remembered the glow of blue screens, and when she had reached out to touch the monstrous thing enwrapped in wires.

What had happened after was intense. A thousand things had happened in a series of seconds. The shock from the armature on the table blasted his physical body back and into the wall. But before he struck it, the force inside the thing had already reached inside him, grabbed him, and pulled him forcibly into the machine, as inexorable as a black hole. While his body was airborne, his mind was charging with energy, shocked with preternatural life and power, yanked blind and mad into the Witchblade, then into the machine it was attached to, and then into the network the machine recieved its orders from.

From their, his consciousness shattered like a thrown mirror. He was everywhere at once - in every phone, every computer, every tablet in the subway, then in the controls of the subway cars, the security booth, and part of him still flowing on, diverted through the network to curious Stark's server banks, and then out through its billion connections, and the shrieking that emanated from every phone in the subway was his own blind, smothered scream, torn into a hundred thousand pieces, subway cars slamming to a halt, sirens blaring, emergency lights on, screens everywhere becoming the blind blue fragments that reflected a million splinters of a single self, torn apart.

Then his body hit the wall, and it stopped.

It stopped in a way, at lest. His body got up and followed Peggy Carter, but he was not complete. Part of him, a large part, was still out there, somewhere. Still lost, still hiding, still splintered and shattered, far from any further accident, from worry or from pain. Far gone, to a place where it was safe.]

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

life_incarnate
2015-10-06 01:43 am UTC (link)

[Jean watched the scene unfold in his mind, experiencing the emotions and sensations as though they were her own. Everything was so confusing, but clearly there was a connection between the alien weapon and what had followed. No, he was probably not a mutant, but as she had said, that didn't matter. She needed to help. Without more information on the specifics it would be difficult, but given his delicate mental state she would be remiss to try and ask for more.

Thank you. [And with that, she pulled free from his brain, those fiery tendrils leaving only the faintest hint of warmth as her presence in his mind disappeared.

Where was Cable when she needed him? Jean was no technopath. Her specialty lay in the living. Sure, she could block those memories, let him relax, give him a respite from that sensation of being shattered, but it wouldn't help. He'd still be incomplete. Burn away that which doesn't work. Finish his pain. We can bring him back. Creation. Those vicious flames were shoved down inside of her, harnessing the Phoenix from making her feel that destruction was his salvation.

The redhead shook her head, a soft sigh slipping from her lips as her hand rubbed up and down his back.] I'm sorry you had to go through that. We'll figure this out. [Her mind was already working on how to communicate with the other parts of him, wondering if the use of Cerebro could elevate her brainwaves enough. Maybe if Cerebro knew his mental patterns.] Probably not tonight. Tonight you should rest. [She slipped her hand up to stroke his hair back idly, that maternal instinct kicking in once more.] I have a room near mine you can have for as long as you'd like. [Jean had moved away from Wanda's rooms ever since the incident.] And I'm not the greatest cook, but if you're hungry, I make a mean macaroni and cheese. Anything else you may want I cannot vouch for the tastiness of, but I'll try.

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Re: [quicklog: louis d/jean g]

strikethose
2015-10-12 01:47 am UTC (link)

Thank you. [And he meant it. He'd been afraid, truthfully, to have someone else crawling through his memories, to live it again, but he had felt somehow separate from it. It hadn't hurt as it had the first time, and seeing it again had brought with it some clarity.

He wasn't alright - there was still a large part of him out there, somewhere, separate and waiting to be found. But he seemed to have, at least in part, discovered the connection that led away to it by following her presence in his mind. It wasn't completeness, but it was something.

He nodded when she offered the room to stay in.] Your hospitality is...thank you. Yes, I'll stay the night, at least. [What would come of tomorrow, he couldn't say. But for now, it was best for him to be here. He felt confident of that after what she'd found, what she'd done. The offer of macaroni and cheese even earned a small smile.]

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