driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Charles Xavier + You
Broadcast: Video
Action: SS Heron
When: Right now!

[ The video starts with Charles sitting on his wheelchair, his hands neatly folded on his lap. He rubs faint circles on his legs for a few seconds, the only real sign of tension. ]

Hello. My names is Charles Xavier. I am a geneticist graduated from Oxford. I -- [ ran ] -- run a school in Westchester for the Gifted. Mutants. People with abilities. My focus is the training and control of abilities we do not always fully understand, abilities that are gifts but can often run amok.

[ He pauses, catching his second wind before continuing on, poised. ]

I am also a telepath with a full set of abilities in aiding the mind and extremely . . . proficient. I do not read minds without permission, because honestly, I really don't care.

[ Charles pauses again, wondering if he should say more and dismisses it. People can ask him if they need details - which they will. ]

If anyone would like to make use of my abilities and skills, they are certainly most welcome to. Confidentiality, of course, is key and you need not make anything public if you do not wish to. If you have any questions for me, the floor is open for you.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Flat, not willing to let his fears take center stage. ]

Well, since you're so knowledgeable about my powers, don't let me stop you.

Oh, but I'm not the one offering to crack open a few heads to help. [ And Eris isn't an idle messenger; she doesn't need to spill his secret, she only needs to twist and prod at it. ]

An honest man would let them know it's a simple task to say...erase memories of an entire school. For example.

[ It's the mention of the school that makes him flinch. Moira. The CIA. ]

I wouldn't -- I would never.

No? [ Oh, this is rich. ]

Is that what you tell yourself to ease that guilty conscience of yours?

No.

Because my conscience is clear. I have made mistakes with my powers but I haven't repeated them.

So you have done it.

[ His voice hardens. ]

I could do anything.

Oh, I know.

[ And she just loves to hear it. Especially in that tone. It's so...stern. ]

[ He exhales sharply. He's being goaded and he feels on edge. Whoever this was, wasn't intent on being suspicious - but . . . . appreciative of his powers. It sets his teeth on edge. He remembers other powers who had thought the same, who looked at his powers in such a way. ]

But I won't.

Mmm, well...not yet. [ This she says sweetly, the words almost idle in how relaxed they are; like she has no doubt at all he'll come to fill her expectations. ]

But all men hit their breaking point eventually. Especially men like you.

[ And then her voice is behind him instead of from the communicator, as if she's hover over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. ]

Men whose hands are stained with blood.

[ He immediately shuts the communicator and spins around, breathing heavily. Who was that? Not an Echo, or a Portrait. Not here.

Stained in blood. There's no denying that. There were lines he crossed once. Would have crossed again, if Erik hadn't stopped him. But the only other person who knew about that was Erik.

Breathe, he tells himself. It was a long time ago. Those details had become - irreverent. ]

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