InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I am your father"

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: [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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