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

[Erik shakes his head. He'd seen it through his eyes, felt it. It was alarming. Erik can rationalise what the woman was doing, but it had the bite of something more sinister.]

We have reason to be ... sensitive, to such things.

[ There's a furious energy thrumming under his skin. He was scared. He was angry. Expelling those feelings was always harder than it looked, always carefully buried under layers of protection and necessity. ]

I think I'll stay on the ship for a while.

[Erik nods, then places his hand on the bed beside him.]

Come here.

[ He smiles faintly as he wheels the chair closer and carefully pushes himself off to sit on the bed. ]

[Erik rescues the plate of scones before he does, setting it aside. When Charles is settled, he wraps an arm around his waist, radiating calm. He has his own misgivings and anger down inside, at the idea someone could this badly rattle Charles with only their words. His hatred for Echoes and their ilk is long held. This, however, is something they can handle.]

[ He leans against Erik. Some of his feelings slip into his store of calm, in the security of Erik's mind. He sighs, letting a brief sense of contentment wash over them both. ]

[It's the kind of security that comes from having weathered all the storms, survived all the threats. They're stronger than they know, and only sometimes remember it. Now... now is a time to remember it.]

[ He lets it lull him quietly. Charles strokes Erik's hair, out of habit, brushing against his neck. ]

Maybe I'll see about getting you some flour.

[Erik laughs quietly, squeezing Charles' side.]

Were they that bad? You can be honest.

A little on the dry side. Still vastly superior to my cooking though, so I suppose I shouldn't complain.

The oven didn't help. I'll set it lower next time.

I'm sure you'll get it eventually.

[ Little talks, banter. Charles feels the rest of his tension leave him. ]

[It's always the balm that soothes them, lets them pull away from the tendrils choking them.]

Scones aren't even difficult. It's everything else about it that's a pain.

[ He shrugs loosely. ]

We can fix it.