((Computer problems. Replies’ll be slow for a bit.
Also, Pocketclaws, I’m sorry for messing up your SN. I feel dumb now.))
April 2012
27 posts
@Roxanne, New Places, New Faces
“Alone? Oh, yes, I understand completely. Well I’ll see you soon. It’s been nice talking to you Professor, look forward to meeting you in person.” Roxanne managed to utter a rushed “farewell” before she started hyperventilating.
I’m actually going to meet Professor Charles Xavier. I’m about to meet the man who founded the X-Men. What even am I going to say? Wait.. Fuck. He’s gonna want ta talk about Prime and that mess of things.. Okay I need to just breathe. Just.. Breathe.
She remained on her bed in the towel for another five minutes before she started tearing her closet apart. Everything from unworn business clothes to her worn out everyday ensemble was at one point pulled onto her body and ripped off in dissatisfaction until her closet was bare. After repeating her insane process again she settled on a nicer pair of blue jeans, a violet button up blouse, her riding boots, and her black motorcycle jacket. As soon as she was dressed she was out the door with her helmet and bag on her hip.
Showing up in style is always the way to go. And makes parking easier on me. Roxanne found the sweets shop with ease and walked into the heavenly smelling place with her helmet still on. After pulling it off and running her hand through her hair a few times she glanced around the room, searching for the man who had asked to speak with her. Wait.. I don’ know what he looks like.. Dammit.
Charles put down the phone and wrung his hands. She’d hung up rather quickly, as if she’d something to hide. Charles sighed and leaned down to unlock the clamps of his wheel chair. Alas, he thought to himself, there’s hardly a being on this earth that has no secrets to conceal. I’ve no need to pay it any mind at the current time. With that, Charles re-focused his thoughts on the task at hand and slowly wheeled himself out of his office.
While he’d only experienced mere fragments of Roxanne’s telepathic signature, he was quite sure he’d recognized her the moment she walked in. It was rare that the more impulsive, frenzied auras entered place like Steiningers, especially ones that flitted in an out of his consciousness as quickly as hers did. Even without her telepathic signature, her brisk step, wild hair and, naturally, those mutated purple eyes were more than enough to make her instantly recognizable. Charles couldn’t help but wonder, as he looked upon her, how such a distinctive woman managed to stay as elusive as she did. It was something he’d have to discuss with her.
Charles touched two fingers to his forehead and tried to single out her aura before opening a channel…Ms. Taylor…Roxanne? I’ve already reserved us a table. Table five. So wonderful to finally meet you.
@PocketSnikt
A child Logan? A strange occurrence to be sure but, if Charles was to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t altogether surprised. If anything, Charles found himself quite fascinated. The adult Wolverine had always been cloaked in mystery, as confused about his past as nearly everyone else who approached him. Even his most prominent memories were buried as deep within his consciousness as the remains of ancient civilizations within years upon years of earth. Perhaps a meeting with this young Logan, a chance to communicate with the young boy about what his life was like, could provide the missing links the adult Logan would need while allowing the child an outlet for the events that clearly plagued his mind.
He’d decided that the Danger Room might be a good place to meet. Logan was always the kind of person who expressed his feelings with deeds rather than words. It certainly couldn’t hurt.
((Also, ALL my new followers and people I haven't prosed with yet, like this post and Charles will send you a starter when I'm done with everything else..))
((Sean and Moira are married and I’m back from C2E2. I’ll be doing more with Charles now. Gonna start working on my replies.))
@Moira, Catch-up time.
The living room of the residential quarters of Muir-MacTaggert Research Facility smelled pleasantly of wood smoke and earl grey tea. The atmosphere was as inviting as ever it had been. Though it had changed little since Charles had last conversed with Moira there, small indications of the events that transpired in his absence seemed to loom large. A worn leather jacket that had never been there before hung upon the coat rack as though it had lived there for many a century. An aged wooden pipe sat on the mantle piece next to a plethora of new photographs in sparkling white-gold frames. The facility felt lived-in in an entirely different way; one that Charles was not entirely sure he felt comfortable with.
Sean was more than content to stay out of the way, of course. The young man could be almost sickeningly eager to please at times. Nevertheless, the prospect of Dr. Moira MacTaggert having found true love and marriage with one of Charles’ X-Men would take a great deal of getting used to. Luckily, Charles and Moria had a history, a rapport. As a result, he felt no obvious discomfort in reaching out to her today to discuss the other events that had occurred during his absence.
