wedonot: (Knocking on doors is lame.)
Dr. Charles Xavier ([personal profile] wedonot) wrote2012-08-21 10:31 pm

TWENTY SIX ✖ SPAM/TELEPATHY

[(Telepathy) Spam for Jean and Morgana]

[It was frustrating, to lie awake at night and not be able to get to sleep. Actual insomnia and not I really need to finish this paper and therefore can't get to sleep at regular hours lack of sleep was almost a foreign concept to Charles, because while it was true that it wasn't like he'd never had nightmares before, these were worse, more frequent, and couldn't be brushed off as a figment of his imagination, or a memory he'd absorbed from someone else. They'd actually happened, to him, and when he did finally get to sleep, it often wasn't for very long.

Tonight, sleep was being especially evasive, so he read, and tried to find ways to occupy himself and hopefully wear himself down enough that he'd eventually have to go to sleep. But his eyes had started feeling gritty and sore, and the words had started to blur together, so he'd finally crawled into bed, and... couldn't fall asleep.

It was late. Very late, and he couldn't let his mind wander without it starting to dive into territory he really didn't want to confront anymore than he already had, so, as he did every few nights since port had ended, he carefully extended his telepathy to check on people.

He couldn't sense Erik at all, which was to be expected, even though his friend was likely lying awake next door trying to fend off nightmares himself. Charles wanted to help, but he knew Erik would be stubborn about accepting it, or just outright refuse, and he didn't want to fight with him right now. Merlin and Arthur were sleeping, which really made sense, as it was late, and he didn't linger too long in their dreams, enough to try and smooth them out a little instead of taking a turn for the worse. They'd never even realize he'd been there.

Which left Morgana and Jean for tonight, and he carefully reached out to them separately, hoping they were asleep and weren't dreaming.]
burnmythoughts: (So Dark)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-08-23 06:40 am (UTC)(link)
[It doesn't register, at first. She's too deep in her struggle, violent and helpless, echoed in the mounting chaos in her bedroom. They're dragging her down the passages again, and sometimes the dank row of cells flickers into the shining steel of Asteroid M, or the flat grey corridors of the sentinel base.

But then she can hear his voice, and feel the rage and horror begin to fade, the memory of agony begin to dull. Everything seems to slow - the brutes pulling her, her flailing limbs. The objects darting around her room follow suit.]

Dream? Professor?

[Everything lurches, then, and suddenly Jean is one her hands and knees, a sob wrenching from her throat.]

No, you're - you're gone, I couldn't -
burnmythoughts: (Worried)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-08-23 12:51 pm (UTC)(link)
You promise? We're safe?

[The words are cracked, brittle things as she looks up. Nothingness twists around her, and suddenly they're somewhere safe - safe, and warm, and calm.

They're in the foyer of the school, scattered with arm chairs and book shelves. On one small table lay a discarded game of battleship; on another, a chess board. Sunlight shines through the tall windows.

It's neat enough, but there's a clear sense of being lived in, of teenage scuffles and friendly mischief.]

We're safe.

[It's a desperately hopeful whisper.]
burnmythoughts: (Worried)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-08-24 01:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jean accepts it immediately, and as soon as she's up, she's all but clinging to Charles for dear life.]

No.

[What's the point of lying, after that?]

I wanted to be, I really did, but...

[But it's just too much. Every lingering ache reminds her of where it came from. Every sudden movement makes her flinch. Every shout makes her tense. And it just keeps getting worse.]

burnmythoughts: (Default)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-08-28 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
[Jean pulls back a bit, staring up at him with a weak but grateful smile.]

I - yeah. I'd like that. [She doesn't want to be alone with her memories.

Slowly, her head turns, this way and that, and her smile deepens a bit.]

Does it look...anything like this, for you?
burnmythoughts: (Smile)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-08-30 07:53 am (UTC)(link)
[Jean nods; she remembers how the mansion had looked two years ago, when it had still been a school and not a home. For a moment, those touches flicker and fade.]

Tell me about them? Your students?

[That would be a good thing to focus on, she thinks. For both of them.]
burnmythoughts: (Grin)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-08-31 10:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[Laughter - real laughter, deep and rich and straight from her chest - feel strange, but it's a wonderful feeling.]

I'm not sure if he's the worst or best teacher in the world.

[There's a sincere fondness in her voice she never would have expected, but she's pretty sure it's there to stay.]

I hope I can meet them, too. Sean sounds like Bobby - he's the youngest. Iceman.

[She turns her head, and there's Bobby at the chess set, sticking his tongue out as he tries to make little ice figures to match the pieces. Mostly he's just making a mess.]
burnmythoughts: (Smile)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-09-03 02:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[Her own smile is warm and bright as she nods, sweeping a hand towards a suddenly open window. Warren swoops inside, great white wings just skimming the edges.]

I present Warren Worthington the third. Code name Angel. If he can sit through a whole day of classes without flying off it's a total achievement.

[She shakes her head, smile softening as she watches him ruffle Bobby's hair.] He's got more money than you, I think, but he's not snobby about it. He can be really sweet, actually.

[Then her head turns, and Scott is marching primly down the stairs, adjusting his red sunglasses.

Jean watches him for a long moment before she speaks, voice soft and warm.]


And that's...that's Scott.

[She glances back at Charles a bit sheepishly.]

He, um - he's our leader, out in the field. He didn't really want to be, but I think that's why you chose him.

His power...he has trouble with it. That's why he has the glasses - if he doesn't, the force beams go everywhere, unless he keeps his eyes closed.
burnmythoughts: (Bashful)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-09-04 11:55 am (UTC)(link)
[Jean ducks her head a little at the grin. She knows it's obvious - to everyone except Scott, anyway.

Her own smile steadily widens as Charles' students appear. It feels...right, and it should, really. This is their home too, or it will be. Her eyes widen at Hank - it must be Hank, she knows those feet, and of course his nose is in a book - and surprise and amusement mingle in them. He's skinnier than theirs.

Her Hank lopes through the door with startling grace, several textbooks under each arm.

She nods earnestly at Charles' words, and she catches what he doesn't say, affirming it with a warm whisper.]


Family.

[Always.]

I get frustrated with them, sometimes, but - I don't know what I'd do without them. [There's a subtle ache in her voice; she misses them. She knew she would, when she accepted the Admiral's offer.]
burnmythoughts: (Grateful)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-09-05 11:42 am (UTC)(link)
[Jean is all too happy to return to the embrace, grinning into Charles' shoulder.]

Me too.

[It's a soft, intent murmur; it's still a bit strange, seeing him so young, experiencing all the little differences, but - it's nice, too. To know a Professor so youthful and earnest and hopeful, even with everything that weighs on him, everything he doesn't say.

She'll never stop being grateful for having him here.]
burnmythoughts: (Grin)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-09-08 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[Her laugh is softer, this time.]

Well, you were travelling - on the trail of a mutant signature. We didn't think anything was wrong, at first, when you didn't contact us; you can get really focused.

And then - one night, I felt...it was almost like a dream, but it was too real. Too...familiar. You were trapped, and calling for help.

We used the landmarks I saw to figure out where you were. Warren's aunt knew a guide in the area. So - well, off we flew. [A slight smirk.] First class. Warren's money definitely comes in handy, sometimes.

When we got there... [Her grin is wide and bright, now, as Ken Hale appears in the doorway - a gorilla with khaki shorts, an orange tank, and an entirely too intelligent expression.] Mr. Hale wasn't exactly what we expected. But he was willing to help us.
burnmythoughts: (Grin)

[personal profile] burnmythoughts 2012-09-10 07:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Neither. It's a curse - magic.

[For a moment, he shifts into the form he once had, a strapping young man with pale brown hair and deep brown eyes.]

He was on a super team for a while, back in the fifties, but now he's living in the jungle.