[OPEN]

[cerebral]

Who: Charles Xavier & you.
What: Open post. Feel free to throw your characters at him.
Where: Mog Hill & Mafaton or somewhere in the central area of the city that your character is likely to bump into him.
When: Veerdi afternoon and evening.
Notes: None.
Warnings:  None.

With no afternoon appointments and no one needing his immediate help at the Glory Shada (he is a counselor, after all, and they tend to keep more regular hours), Charles decides to slip away from work early in order to window shop around the city. It's mostly to look at furniture and other essential household items, although bookshops and strange trinkets inevitably end up catching his eye. Every so often he can be seen in shops, snapping pictures on his CiD, enquiring after prices and how long someone will be able to keep a reservation. Occasionally he'll wander into a cafe for coffee or tea on the go, more to warm up on a chilly Ruundary than anything else.

While walking, he lets his mind idle around, picking up and sifting through passing thoughts as he goes. Despite some friendly warnings to be cautious and his own recent encounters with the unforeseen forces of Baedal, he really can't help himself at times.

Comments

[cerebral]

"I know." He does. But it doesn't help the feeling —okay, the knowledge— that he's taken his sister for granted lately. Especially now with the sinking 'what if' that he might never see her again. It's interesting how that only happens after someone is gone.

"I don't think it would have fit in the arrival room." And Erik gets the most sardonic look that Charles can muster right now.

He looks ahead for a while, before reaching where the pebble landed and kicking it back in Erik's direction. "But I can still do something about it." He may not be quite as radical in his approach, but his motivations still stem from mutant (or xenian) advocacy and an inability to accept the situation at hand.

[magnetic]

He accepts this statement with a nod at the same time that he doubts it, and as the pair of them walk, Erik with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the approaching stone, the absurdity of it strikes him. It's funny, being caught in a place between fatalism and single-mindedness. Strange to be mindful of futility and opportunity, both.

He kicks the pebble into the street.

"Whatever we settle on, we'll need to be careful about it. If the Militia perceives this undertaking as a threat, they will not hesitate to come down on it, on us, like a hammer. And they'll do it with no warning." Trust him to be ready for a fight at all times.

[cerebral]

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." He watches the pebble skiff away into the street. And, because this is a very sombre subject and his friend is already sombre enough, a thought occurs to him. He stops and stoops over to pick a stick up out of the gutter and turns it over in both hands.

"It's funny. We can look at this and we see, what? Something that used to belong to a tree. But other than that, it's pointless. You can't make it into anything. It's not evern worthwhile firewood. But," and he holds it firmly by one end, "If you show it to a child, it becomes a sword."

And ta-da, it suddenly appears as a small, wooden toy. "Or a magic wand." This time it seems to become a gnarled looking, archaic staff, with little star-sparks flying off. See Erik, isn't this much more neat? Although this distraction actually has a point, don't worry.

[magnetic]

Erik stops too, of course, to see over his shoulder what Charles may be up to, and turns to face him after a moment's delay. The display does seem gratuitous at first, but he has not known Charles to do much of anything without making some sort of point—and he's entertained by it, besides, in his own subdued way. Witnessing other mutants' abilities can no longer be called a novelty, exactly, but his appreciation for it has by no means worn away... and this is especially true for Charles, whose gift is not an especially visible one.

He says nothing, but looks on, quietly expectant.

[cerebral]

Mutant abilities may have lost their novelty, but that doesn't stop Charles' enjoyment at being able to show-off.

"What I mean is," and the stick becomes exactly that once more, "this is how the human population of the city sees new xenians. There. Or else they see something dangerous, to be feared or, in the case of the Militia, controlled."

"If we don't want them to see us as a threat, then we need to present ourselves as a solution. We're talented individuals and we're helping others less fortunate than ourselves become productive members of the city. Stopping them from becoming other people's problems. Lending an extra hand to those that need it, without any cost to politicians or tax payers." For now, at least. If they do stay here longer, Charles has plans. But at present he catches Erik's eye, hoping his friend sees what he's getting at through the adopted double-speak.

[magnetic]

"That is an attractive proposition." You know what's coming next. He doesn't even need to pause. "But where does it leave us? We streamline the integration process for them, and, what, live out the remainder of our lives in harmony as productive prisoners?"

One of his hands slips loose of his pocket, gesturing smoothly to stay any response. "I'm not saying this is a bad idea, or that it shouldn't be done..." But...

[cerebral]

"Then we know and have a lot of influence with some very talented individuals. Who have been brought here against their will. And are forced to live somewhere that poses multiple threats towards their safety and livelihood."

Charles, you are fooling no one with that innocent smile.

"It will be a legitimate enterprise. We'll have to establish friends in high or interesting places, make sure we have a perfectly documented paper trail, and only legal sources of funding. The Militia may come sniffing, but the trick is to give them nothing to find. In fact, there will be nothing to find. We'll only be doing our civic duty."

[magnetic]

"You make it sound so easy," he says, his voice softened momentarily by something akin to wistfulness, which dissipates as he continues on. "But I don't think you understand the Militia. Men like that don't come sniffing around first, they come with the intent to put an end to things, and waving paper at them won't steer them away."

The gravity of this discussion seems to draw him in closer; he approaches slowly, looming, progressively more intense. "You can build up all the legitimacy you want—and what if they ignore it? And they will ignore it, should it suit them. Who will hold them accountable?"

[cerebral]

"I know the minds of people better than you think." Despite Erik's moving closer, Charles doesn't budge. If anything, his body-language takes on a slightly more challenging stance and he meets Erik's intense look with one of his own.

"I'm not saying it's a full proof plan and we would be dealing with forces unknown to us." Unknown to him, which is really a point for distress. "But I'd rather do something productive that could benefit everyone, especially those who need it most, than curse at my misfortune. The threat of the Militia will always dangle over my head and they could conceivably drag me away at any given moment. I would rather it was over this than anything else."

He's not backing down on that.

[magnetic]

He'd better not back down on that, because this is exactly the sort of response Erik was hoping for; it's just as much a probe for personal reassurance as it is an impromptu test of mettle. Few things could be worse for Erik in this place than to feel alone in his point of view.

Seconds pass, during which he says nothing, but remains just where he is, tall and solid and for now only looking. The hard angles of his face and the pale steel blue of his eyes. Their minute flicks of observation.

Presently, Erik's weight settles on his heels—a subtle, but important change—and he asks, "How did you want to begin?"

[cerebral]

Charles remains similarly, but perhaps slightly more focused, on staying right where he is. It's only when Erik finally shifts and speaks that he releases his inner lip from being bitten (an old, nervous habit that he'd never quite shaken).

"Planning stages first of all." And he relaxes in posture, with a small exhalation at whatever test he's just passed. "Networking is key. The better friends we can make, the better chances we have of making this work, both for fundraising and to show that we mean well. Some of them are going to need to be more public and more established than we are. I'd also like to speak to Remy about this. And, of course, scoping out places for rent."

[magnetic]

"I will take care of that." The location scouting, he means. While he can turn on the charm to some degree, Erik is well aware that of the two of them, he is the least suited to inducing friendships in high places. (Or any places, really.) That and he's done the property dance twice, now, so...why not.

He is still standing there, by the way. His hand has gone back into his coat pocket, and his posture is less...monolithic, but he is there.

[cerebral]

"Well then. Good." It's decided. And after a moment of not knowing what else to do, Charles reluctantly turns to keep walking, hands firmly in his coat pockets. Although his head turns slightly towards his friend, as if to make sure that he actually is coming along.

[magnetic]

He is, of course—or will, rather, as soon as whatever it is he's thinking comes to a conclusion. In the meantime he is still, once again silent, only observing, and looking as though he may be about to smile, but has not quite made the decision to go through with it.

For the first time since his arrival here, you see, Erik has been given some clarity of purpose, and it deserves a moment.

(His fist squeezes around the silver coin in his pocket.)