FIFTY SEVEN ✖ VOICE/SPAM

[wedonot]

[Warden Filter, backdated to Day One of the flood]

[Again, Charles sounds more tired than anything else when he makes this post, because today is officially going on the record as the longest day of his life, and he'd really, really like it to be over. Like, now.]

Alex and I brought Pietro Maximoff down to Level Zero after he attacked and tried to kill us. I don't know if he's been assigned a warden or not, yet, but if anyone's stepped up to take responsibility for him, he'll probably be awake and hopefully willing to talk in an hour or so. [He might have put him to sleep for a while. B(

He lets out a slow breath before continuing.] Has anyone seen Dr. Banner?

[And everything else in this post is present dated!]

[Friends Filter - if you think you're on it, you are]

I'm sorry I wasn't very available during the flood. [And that's all he really wants to say about it from his end.] How is everyone doing?

[Private to the Admiral]

[As much as he doesn't like you, Boss Man, he's learned how to ask for things from you, and this is important. Also potentially very stupid, but Zane had been right, he could tell what they were used for, and he was more likely to be sympathetic to someone who power reductions literally meant feeling as though they were missing a sense just as important as sight.]

I need a reasonable amount of tin and copper for Zane, enough to keep him comfortable until he's assigned a warden who can continue supplying it. Please.

[Spam for Pietro]

[His first priority after the flood was over was to head down to Zero. As much as he really didn't want to spend time down there ever again after what had happened when Tosh had been in control of the ship, he couldn't just leave Pietro down there, either, and so he's shoving aside his discomfort and heading downstairs to let him out.

He calls over to him before he actually gets in front of the cell, concerned.]

Pietro?

[Spam for Erik]

[It's not really uncommon for them to just invite themselves over, whether for chess or needing to tell the other something or simply because they're bored, and so after letting Pietro out and gently checking to see if Erik would mind the company at all, he heads back to their floor and opens his friend's door instead of his own, closing it behind him and managing a sort of wry-but-pained smile.]

If I wasn't already convinced that meeting you was one of the best things that's ever happened to me, I think this would have cleared up any doubts. [It's supposed to be a joke, making light of the issue because he really, really did not know how to process what had happened at all. They'd talked before about how maybe they did live in the best possible reality, and times like these made Charles think they were right.

He sobers a little when he looks at Erik, a faint line of concern forming between his eyes.] How are you doing?

Comments

spam;

[supersonic]

[ It's a little like waking from a nightmare, for him, the kind that feels so real and all-consuming that you spend those first few moments of consciousness in unbroken panic, unaware that you've even woken. Except when Pietro comes back to himself, there is no wash of relief, no grateful realization that none of it was real — because it was. He's in Zero. His fists feel like meat because he hurt people. (Wanda is alive.)

It's good that Charles comes quickly. Solitary confinement is hard enough on someone whose concept of time is so elongated, and after how things went the last time Pietro was down here, it does nothing positive for his emotional state now. He comes to the front of the cell when he hears Charles, instinctively moving toward the door. ]

Charles. [ Not 'Xavier', not right now, because he needs to draw that distinction in his mind. ] Are you— is everyone all right?

[Spam]

[wecanavenge]

[He's sitting at the chess board, hunched forward with one elbow resting on the edge. It's melancholic, maybe, but he's turning one of the chess pieces over in his hands. Charles' entrance only earns a quick glance up, and the comment gets a vague, brief smile.]

Nothing puts things into perspective quite like a flood, does it. [His gaze flicks up again.] If only they all had such straightforward meanings. [Taste that sarcasm.]