[closed]

[cerebral]

Who: Charles Xavier & Erik Lehnsherr.
What: Chillin' post-hangover and squidbabby revelations.
Where: Casa del X-Bro.
When: Shunday.
Notes: None.
Warnings: None.

Psyche-not: for when the busy mind needs a break. Quietens psionic, psychic and other mental abilities. Not to be consumed by anyone without*. See instructions for brewing.

*If you do, CONTACT A PHYSICIAN IMMEDIATELY.

Charles had eyed the little packet for five minutes before he'd given in. If he didn't know any better, he would say tiny men had invaded his skull and were making room for their furniture (which wasn't out of the question, given this city). A hangover on top of telepathy meant that everything was insufferably loud in strange and interesting ways and his sleep from morning until late afternoon still left him short of feeling even close to normal.

Hopefully tea that included something a little extra to it would help his will to live.

Ten minutes later and he's lying stretched out on a couch in the sun room, pale and huddled in a cardigan and pajamas, steaming cup next to him on the table as he stares at the ceiling and feels the strange, mentally numbing effect of the brew.

The growing silence is the most peculiar feeling but with it comes a strange relief.

Comments

[magnetic]

"I can't imagine."

When he looks at the cup, sitting there on the table so innocuously, Erik wonders what it must be like to possess an ability that affects the brain itself. To be at the mercy of one's own gift in such a way is an unsettling idea. All the same, the ready availability of this...medicine, drug, whatever one chooses to call it, does nothing whatsoever to assuage his suspicion—but the way Charles delivers that assertion about his abilities does mollify him somewhat. Barely. For the moment.

"Is this the first time you've used it?"

[cerebral]

"Yes." He had, in fact, put it off for the longest time and chosen to recover as naturally as possible post-battle. "And no, you can't." It's spoken softly and lacking any admonishment; a simple fact.

He sits up properly then, face very pale and serious as he looks at his friend. "I know my ability bothers people. Even other xenians. But in a way I was --I believe my intelligence and my mutation are linked. One was preparing me for the manifestation of the other. And even then, I was seven when I became aware of my telepathy. And I've gotten used to it. Telling me not to use it is like telling you not to use your elbow joints. You can, but it's difficult, and you'll always remember just how easy everything was when you could."

His gaze drops for a moment. "And in combination with that, you have this place."