[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]

The bump of Charles's arm inspires a glance first, and only afterward a smile, directed forward, his gaze lowered momentarily to the ground several paces ahead. It's a nominal show of modesty that few can inspire.

He is certainly not about to dwell on the feeling, so he moves on to teasing instead: "So, exactly how much shopping did you do today?"

[cerebral]

"Only window shopping." His voice rises mildly in a sort of 'hush, you' protest. Not that he minds being teased (far from it, but speaking of not dwelling—).

"I ended up chatting to a number of people along the way." And 'casually' instigating such chats, but nevermind that small detail. "This city certainly attracts an interesting bunch. Although I couldn't help but notice that a lot of us come from Earth, or a variant of Earth."

[magnetic]

"Yes, I had noticed that as well. It's true for this cohort, at least." And probably others. However many there are. It does not take much for Erik's train of thought to go sliding down a certain slope, and oh, there it goes, and the all-too-frequent sobriety begins its triumphant return to his mien. "It makes sense. A less predictable crowd would be more difficult to manage, if only due to basic psychological differences... not to mention physiological aspects. Compared to some species kept here, humans in particular are easy to control."

[cerebral]

"And you think what exactly? That we were caught up in the inter-dimensional cross-fire?" 'We,' of course, meaning them specifically or the xenian population in general. Charles can see where this train of thought leads; it's one they've been down many times before. Don't mind him as he gently finds a way to prod a hole in this logic.

[magnetic]

"Not necessarily." Maybe. "I don't presume to know the designs of whomever's in charge of this place... but if the general idea is to create a mostly humanoid...colony, or zoo, or whatever the hell is going on here, it makes sense that a large number of the subjects should be human. We could be here by accident, yes, but more likely for some other reason. Variety, perhaps." Because this is probably some kind of hideous experiment. And he hates it.

He kicks at one of those ubiquitous little stones during one of his strides.

[cerebral]

A hand goes up to rest on Erik's shoulder. Ever since his initial panic and the consequences of his admittedly foolish actions had died down, Charles' thoughts had returned to worrying about everyone else. Erik gets extra, as always.

"Who can say." And he looks at him side-on. "It's beyond frustrating." But probably worse for his friend.

And after another little beat, his hand drops once more down to his side. "All we can do is wait and see if they'll reveal a weak spot. In the meantime, I think I'd like to go about leveling the playing field for others." He shoots him a little look that clearly states 'interested'?

[magnetic]

That is absolutely not all they can do, as far as Erik is concerned, and it's not even the least of what he intends to do. He has no solid plan at the moment, no—he's not even sure how he will ultimately take advantage of his new role as deputy; securing a safer position is simply instinct—but waiting around is unthinkable.
The hand on his shoulder doesn't make Erik feel any better about this, but it does, as usual, bring him back to the present moment. (He could stand to be centered more often.)

That aside... these two certainly are full of oblique glances today, aren't they. "What did you have in mind?"

[cerebral]

"I'm not entirely sure. A place, I suppose. A safe place. Originally I'd thought of a school, but most of the people brought to our cohort seem to be adults. Legally, anyway." Charles' ideas have been formulating for a long time, but it's clear he wants someone to hit them off. He is, as ever, a diplomatic and eloquent speaker. Still, he knows he doesn't have to be when he's with Erik, and so his friend might hear some of the emotion, the frustration, resonating within his voice.

"I am so tired of seeing cohort members struggling to survive when they come here. There are monsters everywhere in this city, inside and out. Tommy and Billy were, and I don't want to make light of what happened to them, lucky. They have family. But what about the ones who don't?" The concern in his expression is more than palpable. "And what about the ones who didn't have it easy before they came here? Or the ones who have discrimination levied against them? I think about Raven, or Alex or Sean, arriving here without us, and I won't lie —it scares me."

[magnetic]

"Raven would have managed." Not to contradict him, of course. There's no contention in Erik's reply; he answers quietly. "She took it well. Coming here." He does not mention the twins aloud, no, but remembers Brock's laughing face from the network, and feels once more the impulse to go running off right now. To find him. And.
And this is too grim a train of thought to follow in the face of an idea that throws sparks as it lands. He didn't always have the tendency to catch fire in the wrong places...

He kicks that same pebble once they reach it—over to Charles's side of the walk, this time, well ahead.

"It's too bad you didn't bring your house along instead of that chess board."

...Erik. Really.

[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.)