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(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

[ Charles blinks.

I beg your pardon? Is someone dying on the Fleet? ]

[ And this is exactly what she meant, and she breathes out a noise.

There's a man, a friend of mine. His name is Robb Stark and when he goes home he's going to die. ]

[ Hm. Tricky.

I'm not sure. Usually, we had a way of diverting our paths. Going to another world and preventing the death from occurring, but the Atroma does not have that option. ]

[ No. We tried it in the Drabwurld, and he died there too.

A touch to the necklace around her neck - a Direwolf, resting with the other trinkets she carries as memories.

At least in the Drabwurld he doesn't have to go back to that death - he's safe there. But this Robb, this person... He's going to go home and they're all going to suffer. I wish I could help. ]

[ Charles' heart ached in tandem with hers.

We'll find another way. ]

[ Breathing out, she softens, nodding her head.

I hope you're right. I mean, you've never really been wrong before, so... ]

[ Charles scoffs silently.

I've been wrong about many things. But that's not going to stop me from trying to be right in this. ]

[ Your determination has always inspired me as well.

Her hand lifts, touching his cheek - they're connected mentally, almost intensely, and she has to bask in it for a moment.

This is why you were my Second. I could always trust you to help me figure out the knots in my mind. ]

[ I try.

He pauses, curious. I don't think I asked what that entailed. ]

[ Oh!

There's a little burst of awkwardness and a bit of humour before she shakes her head.

I was Marchioness of the White Citadel, a sort of palace for leaders of the Seelie court - the court I was placed in to opposite the Unseelie. There were five of us that lead it as a democracy of sorts, and each of us had a Second. It was meant to be someone we trusted, who could advise and help us, support us and, if necessary, take over for us if we died. ]

[ Charles' brow furrows as he tries to make sense of those terms. His mythology and folklore had always been shaky at best. He enjoyed the Greek stories because they involved early day science and philosophy. So Charles nudges at Hermione's mind gently to supply the information he needs.

So you were brought there to rule? ]

[ She offers it freely, without hesitation; the White Citadel, a rising, brilliant castle of stone ruled by five members of the Seelie court that had proven their worth to the king and queen, Solais and Ridire. She offers the other leaders - Flora, a fairy, Sir Lancelot (yes, that Lancelot), Luke Castellan, the son of a God, Nico di Angelo, her baby brother and the son of Hades, and Gabranth, another strong, fierce knight. She offers the information of diplomacy, of an army to control, people to save, and the titles - Marchioness for the females and Marquis for the men. She even offers a brief memory of a map, with the brilliant white castle as a line of defence against the Unseelie that rise high to the north, charmed and protected with layers upon layers of magic.

I was brought there to fight. Ruling was a bit of an accident on my part. ]

[ Fascinating. This seemed like a whole world, not those artificial places Charles had been dragged to. Still, fighting and ruling . . . it didn't seem like him to take part in such things. Although, he knew how he'd behave when pressed for choice. ]

[ We were family. We took care of each other. It was... Nice to have other people there. Even if it's strange for her to see him now. You were a very good Second. ]

[ I should warn you. My track record with families is atrocious.

Was it a warning? There are flashes of humour in there, but there's some grey about it, like overcast clouds. ]

[ So is mine.

She thinks of Dorian, who tried to abandon her because he was afraid of his own madness, his own portrait, she thinks of Katsa, who she thought had betrayed her and had broken her heart, she thinks of Harry who had become a monster that she didn't recognise, of Nico who had left to go home and left her lonely. She even thought of Remus, who returned to their world to live a life and left her by herself, no matter how happy she had been to let him go.

It's not easy. But it's worth it. ]

[ I know it is.

But that's why it hurts. Because he knew and he cared and he poured his soul out, to no avail. ]

[ Hermione moves, slowly, wrapping one arm around his neck and shifting to draw him close.

Look into my mind. Just - look, and know how important you are, okay. ]

[ Charles resists. It wouldn't be me, he says. ]

[ It is you. You're shaped by experiences that came from a different world, but up to the point where you were brought in? You're the same Charles. The Charles that I met was kind, and sweet, and brave and smart, and I know you're just the same. I can see it, right here, right now, between us.

She holds onto him because, and she can admit this - she's scared. She doesn't want to lose this family, not when she had once already, and she's so afraid that without her shard she'll never get back home, she'll never find her way back to the Drabwurld and to the man that had become her brother. But right now that doesn't matter, because he's here too.

You told me just now that I should share with the people I knew before, and that's what I'm going to do. I love you, Charles, the person I knew in the Drabwurld or the man you are now. I'd love you even if it had been a hundred years. ]

[ He doesn't know that Charles. Even though, intrinsically, there is no difference between him and any other. A sea of names and experiences set them apart. Janus. Miles.

( Sonne, Erik had whispered to him, pressing the golden sun necklace to his chest, my sun. )

Blood separated them, necessity separated them. If his other self, his future self saw what he had done, would he have still offered the same piece of advice?

( did it matter if he was loved? no, not really, because he's learned better, he is better at this, he longer is trapped by his expectations. he won't break for love. )

Still a part of him crumples. So he lets his fingers ghost over her cheeks, in the act of brushing invisible tears away Let's limit it to a lifetime, he says gently, I never doubted your love. ]

[ Hermione has learned the differences between people of the Drabwurld and people of this world; she can see it every day in how they act, how they handle themselves, how they're so different and so familiar to her. How they look at her and don't recognise the warmth in her eyes and the love in her heart - and how it isn't their fault, not really. She blames herself for hoping too hard and wanting too much, something dangerous inside of her that wants to go and hide away, to pretend that none of this is happening.

Charles is right; she is lonely, and she's doing her best to not let on.

When his fingers touch her she starts out of her thoughts, her eyes blinking rapidly before she huffs a sharp little noise. Her face is as scarred as her heart is, she thinks; so much that she's lost and gained in such short amounts of time, death and life surrounding her in awkward measures. For all the people she had managed to fight for and save there were still literal hundreds she had allowed to die and it hangs over her; she was the maker of so much pain, so much suffering, and she has to try and grow from that.

It's harder, when she's left alone with her thoughts like she is on the fleet.

For now, she tilts into Charles' touch and huffs a little laugh.

My lifetime might end up being centuries, you know. Side-effects of having a shard in my chest and being a witch. Still, her hand covers his and squeezes gently, her thumb gentle as it brushes over his knuckles. You'll never have reason to. No matter what we learn about each other in the future I won't stop loving you. I learned a long time ago that sometimes nothing can stop love, not even the worst of surprises. ]

[ It's an old lesson, Charles murmurs, but it's one better learned than forgotten.

He remembers it in the warmth of Raven's embrace, remembers it in the quiet of Erik's mind, in the footfalls of Hank's heart.

And you've digressed, he points out wryly, for I believe we were talking about you originally. What will you choose to do? ]

[ The best lessons are the hardest, and it's good that we don't forget.

She's growing and changing and reshaping, and that's fine. She's glad of it, proud of it. Now, though, she tilts her head and glances over at him, fighting the urge to laugh a little awkwardly. She's not ashamed, exactly, but she does feel a little sheepish.

I get carried away sometimes. With my friends, here? I don't know. Maybe I should tell them the truth. ]

[ It's your decision. Charles can't do much else, though the urge to meddle is always strong. He's never stopped wanting to protect, to shield at the expense of himself. ]