ataraxionlogs | oo6. closedish.

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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

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[There's a soft, breathed out reply of - ] Yeah. [It's not that living with Charles is an unpleasant prospect, it's more the unknown and known fates of everyone else that's weighing on him. Which is precisely why he's okay with not knowing all the nitty gritty details, if his arrival on board the Tranquility taught him anything.

There is one tiny discrepancy, though - ] There's a girl here from the future, another mutant. She said she was a student of mine - ? [Since the 'just you and I' part neatly negates the prospect of the school.]

Rogue.

[ Fingers tap rhythmic and restless against the table. He can follow that train of thought rather easily; he'd done it himself. ]

I've met people who come from different universes that contain. Versions of ourselves, I suppose, versions of our Earth. I didn't go into it with her, obviously, it'd be a bit much and I'd sound like a lunatic.

But there exists that possibility, which is only as implausible as whether we reopened.

[Oh. And at the same time, a little voice - similar to the one that constantly hisses how much of a freak he is, how he'll never fit in, which has also began to pick up the new tune of how people won't want to be around him, not really - pipes up with what did you expect?

Hank only nods in response, unsure what to say. If Charles says it's that way, then it likely is. And if things have gotten so bad that even he can't be optimistic any more, well. Any hope he has is quickly dwindling.]

[ Charles doesn't have to be psychic to see it. (That he is, fragmented, broken pieces of what was once his power now resurfacing to turn their edges up and cut him, doesn't give him much more insight.) He sinks into a silence that is less companionable, more resigned.

The future could even be far worse than it is. ]

You don't want this one, then.

[ Wry humour falls a little short. For all that he has not aged over much in his ten years, his voice has a different quality, slightly hollow, husky, extinguished. Charles drags the non-dragon book back towards himself. Looking at it rather than the blue furry face that he had gotten rather good at reading, before the serum. ]

[The bodice enhanced boobs on the front cover get a glance.] I never said that. [ - he is only human, despite appearances. Lesbian and gay pulp fiction novels were fairly present at drugstores and magazine stands in the 50's and 60's and Hank has tried at least every genre once, which may come as a surprise to some. Let it never be said his knowledge of things doesn't have range.

Trying to lighten the mood by keeping to the change in subject - ] Although I'm guessing they go insane or die in the end, not that I usually root for cannibals. [While they're on the subject of books and trades;] I haven't been here long enough to collect any paperbacks. Just things I've read on the datapads.

I shan't spoil it for you.

[ The same gesture that drags the book back towards him then reverses, and flicks it Hank's direction to slide a few inches. He settles back into chair. ]

And I'll take recommendations. [ His fingers tap blunt against the table top. ] I've taken to staying on level fourteen, if you've inclination to spend your alone time in good company. It's empty, [ is explanation he realises might help the context. ] Erik will lurk by, oftentimes, but I've politely pretended not to notice.

Edited (vanishing words) 2014-07-28 09:54 (UTC)

[That sounded right up Hank's alley, until certain company was mentioned. He makes a not intentionally threatening, gruff sounding noise that would be a snort under other circumstances.]

I think it's best he and I keep as far away as possible from one another right now. [Although he considers something else.] He isn't bothering you, is he? [Asked so politely, but with all the intention of hurling Erik into a wall if necessary.]

[In the meantime, he will take out his device and handy plastic pen (with rubber bits to help grip, no less) to tap out recommendations and send them to Charles.] I've mostly been reading a lot of theory to do with time travel and alternate dimensions. [Go figure.] Did you want something more recreational?

[ There's a dullish kind of resignation in his eyes at (fair and valid!!) rejection of offer, which is Charles' fault for phrasing things like he's doing people a favour as opposed to asking for something for himself, and then an expression that is at once guarded as it is humoured for Hank's concern. ]

Oh, he keeps his distance.

[ He does now, anyway. ]

Either. Anything good, interesting. Though I might skip that about time travel, if it's all the same to you, [ is dry, watching Hank's hands navigate device. ]

[Since that's the case, re: Erik - ] Okay. [Said slowly, with a nod or two as he adjusts to the idea. It would be nice to live away from people's stares, or the idea of them. And he is observant enough to realise that this is perhaps not just for his benefit, not to mention he's both curious about the change in Charles as well as being defensive towards most people who bring it up.] I've just, uh. Been having some temper flares. Not that I think that would be a problem around you.

[While he had zero qualms with the content of what he'd said in his last conversation with Erik, he would have preferred a less roar-y delivery system. As for recommendations;] Fair enough. [Just wait, Hank.

A few of the less dry texts on parallel dimensions as well as perceiving dimensions greater than three make their way onto said list, along with a compilation of creation myths according to several older alien races, one really hilarious and inaccurate 'historical romance' novel set in the 20th century, and the full works of an alternate Jane Austen who had apparently had an expansive naval career (overall there were now a lot more pirates.)]

[ Agreement is met with a twitched implication of a smile. Good, then. He'll have to tidy up so that Hank isn't immediately compelled to do so, but the thought is left behind as Hank speaks on his own predicament. ]

I've not made many friends either, lately.

[ Which is mostly due to him being a dick and less to do with primal urges rooted in genetics, but.

Charles picks up his communications device to lazily evaluate the recommendations he's being sent, absently scrolling through older subject lines of messages while he waits. Something to do with his hands. ]

We should talk, [ he finally states. A hint of reluctance. ] Not everything about the future, but some things.

[He...actually leaves out the part where he seems to have gotten an abundance of attention lately, all very Positive with a capital 'p' but which leaves him uncomfortable. It's not pitchforks chasing him down the corridor, but it's as though he's aware of people noticing him and how they're overly friendly. But he doesn't quite know how to put all that into words.

However, Charles is volunteering to talk - something which Hank had been anticipating would happen if he was patient, given what he'd been told about people being direct. He puts down his own device, ready to listen.] Go ahead.

[ In a way, Charles could almost sympathise. He's gotten a lot more knocks on his quiet level fourteen door this month than he has since he arrived at all, although less out of friendliness, more out of people demanding to know what happened to Charles Xavier. (The conversations that ensued just worked out to be less friendly.)

But, probably, he wouldn't have been able to put it to words either.

Onwards, then. He glances towards Hank putting down the device, that shift of easy attention, and he fidgets fingers along the seams of his own device. ]

You figured it out. The, uh. The solution, for your mutation. You found a way to balance the man against the beast, as it were. You'll recall our inquires about that serum I received, before.

[ He sets down his comms device. ]

I don't have that any more, but I do have. You know, notes. If you'd like them.

I do. I - [Slow dawning realisation at his further, possibly more successful attempts into re-writing DNA. Oh.] That was me?

[Scientific breakthroughs and the solution to many of his problems, oh my. But he brings it back around and focuses before he can get too carried away with the first bubbling of excitement he's felt in a while. It manifests as a reverent -] Yes. [And nodding. Emphatic nodding.]

[ There is almost a smile, from Charles -- it is grimly flat, and always vaguely complicated behind his face, like something is preventing it from being less exuberant, mirroring better Hank's enthusiasm. ]

Alright, well, when you come round next, they're all yours.

[ And he will just have to handle it himself. That twist of longing. But it'll be good, at the same time, to get rid of the damn things. ]

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oo6. closedish.

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