[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

[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.)