Who: Charles Xavier What: Receiving a gift from a .... Well. From someone. Where: His room at the X Mansion When: The morning after this Warnings: None in particular except for a whole lot of What the Fuck
It started with an itch. The kind that nagged and settled far beneath the skin. It was the kind of itch that made a person sigh contently once it was finally reached. Itches weren't new, he'd been itching all his life just the same as anyone. Even his legs, long after he'd stopped feeling them, itched on occasion.
What woke Charles up this morning was not the itch itself. It was the scratch he felt along the side of his thigh when his fingernails dug in impossibly hard. He'd been asleep, a deep deep sleep. Sleep that he hadn't found in years. He remembered dreaming, the weaving the tapestries, he didn't know what it was. Not entirely but he remembered watching threads plucked and moved and woven through each other. He remembered a harp. A loom. A needle and thread. All held the same meaning as he carried himself through his sleep holding onto the threads to navigate more clearly and even as things got cloudier he never let go.
As soon as he felt the initial scrape of nail against flesh his eyes sprang open and his fingernails dug in harder, testing. His heart thumped in his chest and his ears deafened. The room spun as his arm tore the blanket off of his body and he sat straight up staring at his legs. His fingers will still digging in, he could see the indentations and feel the burn. More than that, he could feel his legs. Entirely. As if they'd been working the entire time.
He didn't know what to think his mind searched the house, searched his memories, had he gone and come back? No. Everything was as it had been when he'd gone to bed. He sat there, eyes red rimmed with tears that were more than half fear based. He tried to take a deep breath, he tried to stop and pause. He tried not to be, well, thrilled. As easily as it had been taken the first time, and then given back, and then he'd given his legs up willingly. He'd tried to make peace with it. He'd done well. He'd been learning. Confusion and fear and happiness were meshing together in his heart and he was intensely aware of it. It settled on him heavily and he laid back down to catch his bearings.
Hand resting on his stomach feeling his core rose and fell with deep breaths, relaxing in the way he'd explained to so many others. He closed his eyes and regained a small amount of control. As his eyes opened again he turned his head on the pillow and looked down at his legs. He moved his toes. Shit.