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).
killian jones. gardens.
It's about as far as he's managed to venture from level fourteen, and already he's regretted it enough to advance his way out again after getting sufficiently deep enough to say that he tried, should Nuala ask why he hasn't visited yet. The humidity seems to lay damp in hair that is prone to getting lank, and there's no pleasure being taken in the way his shoes sink into the softness of natural soil and grass, a stark contrast to the eternity of super smooth spaceship floors beyond.
He is also super drunk. This is completely his own fault, yes, sure. At one point, his hand reaches out to rest against a tree, the other peeling off gradient-tint sunglasses so as to press the back of his hand against his brow and collect himself.
Rather than continue on his way, Charles sort of. Turns on a heel, to rest back against tree. He looks out of place, in denim and brown leather and lurid shirt, apparently offended by all the nature everywhere. ]
no subject
It's easy enough to tell that the man isn't all there. There's a curious glance to the sunglasses before Hook speaks, voice all measured nonchalance. ]
All right, mate?
[ Because you kind of look like shit. He's keeping his distance as he asks, if only because the last time he asked a stranger how they were doing they ended up biting him. Not up for a repeat. ]
no subject
[ Well, that's an immediate give away, but Charles is vaguely distracted with whatever cocktail of space liquor and magical painkiller he's managed to circulate through digestion, stomach lining, blood stream, the pores of his skin. Going for a walk, of all fucking things, was overly ambitious.
But whatever range of thoughts tinnily echoing off the corners of his mind came from a person, a person who said something to him. Charles replaces sunglasses as he looks over. ]
I'm wonderful.
[ Hang on. ]
And you're Emma's [ eyeliner amputee guy ] pirate.
no subject
He's tempted to correct the phrasing, but it's the mention of Emma at all that catches his interest. It seems unlikely that Emma would mention him to anyone. Security? Some kind of precaution in case he goes after Rumplestiltskin?
There's no way in hell this guy's on security. A slight delay while Hook considers him, then he gives up on assumptions and gets straight to the point. ] How do you know Emma?
no subject
We are friends.
[ Which sounds more specific than casual. ]
Just from here, not from her world, or anything. Charles Xavier. I don't actually know your name, sorry.
no subject
There's a flicker of recognition at the name, in thought if not in expression. Emma had mentioned a Charles back on the colony. She'd been acting off at the time, indecisive, and it'd been cause enough for the name to stick. Or too decisive, maybe; it'd just been in pursuit of the wrong plan.
After a slight hesitation: ] Hook.
[ It's more of a title than a name, and the choice of offering that instead of Killian is deliberate and impersonal. He follows it up a few beats later, tone searching. ] You were with her on Arima?
no subject
He has edged a peer over the tops of his glasses in more specific curiousity when the other man goes and asks that, and Charles' manner changes. It's subtle. More stillness than drifty idling, less (boozy) warmth in his focus now visible over shades.
Charles elbows his balance off the tree so as to stand properly. ]
Briefly.
[ Any attempt to look a little closer into the other man's mind, beyond the surface, is met with whitenoise, and silently, invisibly, he shies back. ]
no subject
His voice matches. Less suspicious, more amicable. White noise or not, Charles wouldn't have to dig deep to tell it's an act. ] Did she tell you she'd intended to steal a ship?
[ A complete stab in the dark. He hasn't talked to anyone about it and he seriously doubts Emma would have, but he hasn't got much to work with. The plan had been set in stone, then she'd come back with a fresh perspective and no explanation other than a name. The delivery makes it sound like an anecdote, and it kind of is— the plan was a terrible one, in retrospect. ]
no subject
Talking about Arima.
He goes ahead and takes off glasses, folding them closed to hook an arm into collar, as if to take away at least one layer of obscurity from reading a room, or just this one guy. ]
She had intentions to leave, yeah. Did you talk her out've it.
[ Inscrutable, for the moment, glassy pale eyes direct in their consideration of the handsome cartoon character he's talking to. Being blandly drunk kind of helps inject a laziness to his tone he does not feel. ]
no subject
The question from Charles doesn't make sense. That's what Hook's meant to be asking, and exactly what he'd intended to ask ever since he'd heard the other man's name. The solution is to simply draw out the conversation, of course, and see how things fall into place.
He's careful to meet Charles's eyes before he continues, though his tone remains relaxed. ] I was going to help her steal it.
no subject
Back again. ]
She talked you out've it.
[ He stands corrected.
(It's almost entirely instinctive, to pick up a conversation, and possess it for himself to best direct its course, but he is also out of practice in keeping hold.) ]
no subject
But it'd been a problem at the time, and he's nothing if not great at holding onto a grudge. The distance makes it easy to keep the casual facade going, at least. ] Funny thing is, she couldn't quite explain why.
[ Just a name. Reading Emma Swan has always been something of a talent; that discussion had been a complete blank, though, no discernible logic to it, and perhaps that's why he won't just let it go. He says it like it's a bemusing observation. There's no accusation in his tone, and when he narrows his eyes thoughtfully at Charles a moment later, he even makes a pass at sounding concerned. ] You're looking a bit green, mate.
no subject
He can see that this is façade, and all at once, he needs Hook to stop, snapping his next few words at this new pretense of concern; ]
You should ask Emma Swan.
[ An exhale leaves him, not quite a sigh, but a release of tension. ]
She wouldn't have understood at the time. None of us did. The Tranquility wanted us back, and it's what it got. Though I dare say it saved your sorry arses from getting stranded and dying in the depths of space, whether you appreciate it or not.
climbs back
Easy, mate.
[ The address is repetitive, made inherently sarcastic for it. That's in response to the quick snap, but his expression darkens somewhat as Charles continues. The interest is less personal, this time; it's the mention of the ship that's got his attention, though the dig at the end does earn a slightly irritated look. ] You think the ship did something to her.
[ Of course it did. The ship's been messing with them since day one. The question's more pointed than the open phrasing would imply, tangled up in the memory of the hallways— or the lack of memory, rather. It's been spotty since he got back. What he does remember is enough for the implication in Charles' words to strike a familiar nerve, the idea of the ship outright controlling them, changing them, and he's too distracted by the thought to follow up on his initial line of questioning. ]
embrase
It's almost correct.
He can see Hook divert, he can see the way out. Maybe if it were anyone else, if it wasn't Emma, Charles would let it slip on by. (He doesn't have a lot of friends left.) ]
The ship did do something to her, but she fought it. It did something to me, as well, and I didn't, and I convinced her otherwise. I didn't know exactly--
[ A hand waves, gesturing to Hook, lazy. ]
--about her little getaway plan, I hardly listened. Which is all what you wanted to ask me, [ is added, with a touch of impatience. ]
no subject
There's a long pause, and when he speaks again the facade's entirely dropped. No false civility, no nonchalance. That's not to say he's openly hostile— there's a darker edge to his expression, more open sarcasm to his voice, but that's the extent of it. ]
Then I suppose I owe you my thanks. [ Another pause, brief, and the continuation's flat, deliberately cold. ] For saving my sorry arse.
[ He's not grateful. He's fine with the current situation. As fine as one can be, in any case; it could be worse— a few hundred years in Neverland, this place pales in comparison. But he's not about to give honest thanks for someone else's meddling. Another quick look over Charles' disheveled state, then: ] I'd suggest you lay off the rum— wouldn't want to do anything you'd regret.
[ Patronizing and dismissive. If he'd considered Charles some kind of threat before he'd met him, that isn't the case now. ]
no subject
A hand splays. Apology. For laughing. For this conversation.
That echo of dismissal is becoming the norm and he actually does want to apologise properly but it was a really long time ago and he's already cocked it up. Oh well. Not being a threat is all he wanted, once. ]
You're right, I should, probably. And no, you don't owe me anything.
[ That's the closest he can get to a sorry, really. The acknowledgement that his interference was only that: meddling. That he feels as though he is no longer having two conversations at once only belatedly puts him at better ease.
Soberly; ]
At all. Including your concern, [ is added, presently, not actually meanly. Permission to move on. ]
tl;dr brackets sorry :')
The truth is that he's bemused, of course. Unsure of what to make of Charles, of the conversation, of the fact that Emma took the advice of this man over anything else.
That permission to take his leave doesn't go unnoticed, either, though he doesn't act on it immediately. His previous comments qualified as a passing concern, at best, just a chance to make a belittling dig. But Emma had listened to Charles, and for whatever reason that's less easy to dismiss than the man himself. Hook may not give a shit, but Emma certainly will. It's almost enough to encourage a more honest attempt at sorting Charles out.
Almost. The thought's right there, at the tip of his tongue. He doesn't voice it. Instead there's just a quiet pause, a clear moment of indecision before he takes the out. ]
You're right, I don't. [ And the false smile's back. Practiced, but so obviously fake after that small mess of a conversation that the sarcasm's impossible to miss. It's not the only thing that's forced, either. The blatant disregard, ignoring that impulse to care— it's about as natural as the smile. ] It's been a pleasure.