charles xavier. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forgodssake) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2014-07-12 03:04 pm
forgodssake) wrote in ataraxionlogs2014-07-12 03:04 pm
oo6. closedish.
CHARACTERS: Charles Xavier and Severus Snape; Remus Lupin; Emma Swan; Nuala; Rogue; Johanna Mason; Odessa Knutson; Erik Lehnsherr; Captain Hook (Killian Jones); Hank McCoy; Raven Darkholme; Cassandra Anderson, others as they happen.
LOCATION: Level fourteen, room one hundred; laundry facilities; bar on level fourteen; kitchen on level fourteen; the Gardens; media library; level twenty, room one-hundred and ninety two; others as they happen.
WARNINGS: TBA.
SUMMARY: Adjusting to being a different person is a struggle.
NOTES: This is only partially closed. I'm using this as a forum for people to poke him, as random run ins may happen as I tag out instead. Please let me know if you'd like to do anything, and I'll be happy to set up a thread (unless you're feel ambitious).
to ever spend my life sitting playing future games
LOCATION: Level fourteen, room one hundred; laundry facilities; bar on level fourteen; kitchen on level fourteen; the Gardens; media library; level twenty, room one-hundred and ninety two; others as they happen.
WARNINGS: TBA.
SUMMARY: Adjusting to being a different person is a struggle.
NOTES: This is only partially closed. I'm using this as a forum for people to poke him, as random run ins may happen as I tag out instead. Please let me know if you'd like to do anything, and I'll be happy to set up a thread (unless you're feel ambitious).
no subject
Charles doesn't appreciate them any more now than he did then. What's a tin can to a mansion to exist vaguely within?
Anyway. He has to leave sometimes.
He's even dressed, dark denim and lurid shirt and brown leather, but all else about him sends off the sense that he is getting far too much sleep. The fact that he misses that his hallway is haunted is but one indication, peeling off to head away. ]
no subject
Erik is on him, in front of him, after him before there’s time to register who or what or how, free hand twisting lapel up into collar to keep control until they’re well and truly in.
He’s also in leather, with its use as armor in mind as much as anything, slacks and boots and aftershave that smells dated, now.
This time it’s his turn to reach back and bap the door shut. ]
no subject
Easy fury in the next moment, on a delay as Erik reaches to shut the door. ]
F'ck'off--
[ It's all a little too chaotic and close for Charles to execute the kind of punch he managed in the medical bay, a flailing that doesn't know whether it wants to shove Erik back or strike him, feeling armour at an impact as he goes to wrench away. ]
no subject
The target is his own bed, which is nice of him, all things considered, assuming Xavier can keep his feet long enough to land on it and not in a shamble against the metal frame.
Somewhere in this Erik must’ve caught a hand to the mouth -- he wipes it and checks his fingers on his way to crossing for the bureau. ]
no subject
Not that Charles is any less livid, a hand gripping the edge of the bed as he watches progress across his room. Stiff, clumsy, he sets a foot back down on floor as he goes to get up, adrenaline squeezing each breath out of him, shallow and tremulous.
Silent otherwise, as if trapped in his room with a tiger. One that doesn't like him. ]
no subject
At the same time, magnetism combs 014 >> 100 from end to end, resonant vibration reflecting in off the walls to sweep one way and then the other. It extends outward, echoes into the surrounding hallway and into neighboring rooms.
He shoves the first drawer shut.
Starts on the second. ]
What happened to you.
[ His inflection is low, disappointment difficult to discern from disgust. ]
no subject
Or not answering.
The first drawer yields clothing. Some of it familiar, some of it new, tossed loosely folded. The second drawer holds the same as well as possessions. A bottle of liquor, from home, that he's managed not to crack into yet, rolls with a thud against the inside. A folded, travel chess board. A gun, from before. ]
You won't find anything.
[ --might be sort of a lie, as the third drawer yields loose leaf pages, data, heavy in jargon and mathematical calculation, pertaining to a serum, a weapon. A medication. ]
I gave the only dose granted me to you, a month ago.
[ Like an idiot. ]
no subject
He closes the second drawer.
And then the third, after some rustling.
He’s halfway across the room for the opposite bureau when he stops. Even without telepathy, Charles can see the wheels turning, pulling him inexorably back around for that third drawer and the papers rumpled therein. ]
no subject
That's enough. Charles launches forward, a hand out to catch the other man at the elbow in a rough grasp, fingers hard. ]
The decisions you made back there
[ he starts, voice thick with whatever quality can ignite into shouting and only just does not ]
and the decisions you will make might work out fine, here, in a vacuum. [ Fingers are claws, sinking into leather, white at the knuckles. ] It's a different thing altogether when I have to live with it. That's what happened to me.
no subject
As is they’re encased in beard, which Erik is forced to endure at uncomfortably close range. It bristles at him, gingery and homeless: begging for judgment that’s only too easy to lapse into in the absence of context. ]
Live with what, [ is distant, as challenges go. Not interested. His eyes are on Charles’ scruffy chin. ]
no subject
Is this the part where you pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talking about.
[ His hand loosens, fractionally, only because keeping that kind of grip gets uncomfortable after a while. ]
no subject
Now it’s a silent challenge, his elbow rigid in support of Charles’ shifting weight.
Finish the accusation. ]
no subject
This whole room denotes a difference; Erik has been in his rooms prior to now enough. Familiarly cluttered, but in negligence rather than absent mindedness. There is the smell of smoke that ventilation hasn't removed entirely, which had only been a rare trace, once, and didn't involve a tea cup as an ashtray he's improvised with on his bed stand.
Probably, there are rooms that are more miserable than this one. And people seem to get angry at him in it a lot. ]
Ten years. [ A push comes with letting Erik's arm go, although it does more to lever himself away rather than shove the other man back. ] That's how long. You left me, and took her with you.
no subject
Erik is unmoved.
There is nothing in his expression to denote skepticism, save perhaps the utter absence of guilt or apology. Charles pushes off of his arm and Erik watches him go, still about the eyes until he resolves to turn mechanically back for the third drawer. ]
So you gave up.
I didn’t ‘take’ anyone, [ he says, secure in his recollection of events that are still recent, for him. ] She chose to join me.
no subject
He watches the other man's turned back, flinty anger mute and vaguely helpless to find a good enough avenue of release. ]
Yeah, for the whole year you spent together, before you got caught.
[ --is a little abruptly meaner, bitterness curdled in his tone, unhappy that Erik was caught, unhappy with what Erik did to get caught, unhappy with the whole sorry mess. His gaze lists to the drawer being opened. ]
The serum's a treatment for my spine.
no subject
It doesn’t matter.
He collects the papers one at a time, knuckles hard and grip unforgiving. There’s quite a bit of rustling. ]
Then you no longer have need of it.
no subject
[ This isn't particularly cutting, designed to distract. Flatly delivered as fact. There's been a slight head tip along with wondering if Erik was going to ask something
and then he doesn't, and Charles stays rooted to the spot. Watching a point between the other man's shoulders. ]
no subject
His spine is straight, posture casually sharp as Charles remembers. There’s poise in the broad set of his shoulders and the point of one shoe. Even the lines in his back are handsome. ]
no subject
[ Is to fight about it, probably. But anger at its best gives energy. Anger at its worst carves out the kind of hollowness that seems to have dried out Charles' tone in smoke and disuse. ]
Is for you to leave.
no subject
What sort of treatment.
[ If he intended to leave he would have knocked. ]
no subject
[ --comes with a sort of disbelieving, breathy laugh that doesn't do much to take away from his mood. Which is a lot of things.
Uncharacteristically distrustful. Paranoid, defensive. ]
What're you asking, Erik.
no subject
He doesn’t answer immediately.
A pair of slow steps bring him closer, first. ]
I’m asking what was worth the loss of everything you are.
[ The papers are still in his right hand, variously creased and crimped by rough handling. Near enough for Charles to make out his own scrawl. ]
no subject
Even if the corner of his mouth hooks up wry. ]
If you had've seen me--
[ He stops that train of thought. Better to answer the question, even if it's a shitty one, than risk his composure. ]
Mobility. Painlessness. The ability to think properly, to sleep properly, to function. Control. I already lost everything I was, Erik. So I took something back.
no subject
Anger at him. Resentment. Blame.
After a hard moment spent engaged in a staring contest at close range, Erik breaks off first. He turns to go, papers and all, stride long and speed clipped. ]
no subject
any response
better than that. A breath in seems to catch against his set teeth, held high in his chest. Comes out, then, as a harsh sounding laugh. The nerve!!
Fuckn-- ]
I'm not the only future disappointment.
[ --he tells turned back. And means it, lashing disdain that he doesn't mind gets on him just as much. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)