(no subject)

[frankensteinian]

Who: Residents and visitors of the X-mansion
When: The month of June
Where: The X-Mansion (Kauto, region five, residence fifteen)
What: Mingling
Warnings: Drama? Individual threads should have their own warnings.

Comments

Erik | ota

[frankensteinian]

He knows there are people in the mansion who aren't pleased with him at the moment, for any number of reasons, and that's precisely why he's reverted to old habits and has been spending more time in his room and less time in the rest of the house. He's not going to apologize for any of it, or change his mind about having done it. So why give anyone a chance to try and get him to do so?

Except that remaining hidden in his room means that, well, he's hidden in his room. And that he's letting someone else's displeasure dictate what he does. Which is why, a couple of weeks after the slaver incident, he begins to venture out again, into the usual parts of the house, most often the kitchen, the day room, and whatever passes as a library. He's going to live his life according to his principles and desires, and that means no more hiding in his room.

Those who are paying attention may have noticed that he hasn't said a thing about Peter leaving, but those with telepathic ability can tell that it's not because he doesn't care that it happened. It's because he doesn't know how to process anything other than anger.

[backdt to last weekish]

[welcomeprofessor]

[There have been many things keeping him busy over the last few weeks. Distant, upset, emotional in every way he shouldn't be. At first, it had been simply a question of necessity: the kids get themselves into trouble, and his primary concern becomes their well-being. One ends up in a coma for a week, and it means he's rarely home. It's only afterward that it turns into a strange sort of dance, walking (or rolling, as it were) on eggshells when the whole house seems to be holding together by a very tense, fraying thread.

He doesn't push, and he isn't asked. And it stays this way for days, the quiet in the house becoming near as oppressive as the fear that had preceeded it.

But even in a house that large, it's not as easy to hide as one might think. And it's in the kitchens that Charles finally, and maybe a little accidentally, finds Erik. He thinks, hovering in the doorframe, to turn back around and leave him be: he's processing. Charles doesn't need to pry very hard to understand the level of upset just beneath the surface.

However, he also knows that the only thing that had kept him sane in loss after loss after loss--in the wake of learning to use new muscles to account for those he no longer had access to, in the wake of still shaking in the middle of the night to recollections of feeling Shaw die, and in the wake of every student and teacher, everyone he cared for, leaving and dying themselves--had been the fact that he wasn't alone.

He still felt it some days. Many of them. But all those years ago, if it hadn't been for Hank...well. He wouldn't be here to talk at all, much less worry about accidentally saying the wrong thing.]

How are you feeling?

[It's careful, and not specific. It could mean anything. He knows, deep down, what's really on Erik's mind, and what he's wrestling with in his own. But he can't force his way through either.]

[frankensteinian]

['How are you feeling?' It's four simple words, but there's no simple answer. He's been trying to figure that out for days now, and being asked his feelings on a specific thing wouldn't make it the question any easier to answer.

Angry is the obvious answer, but this time he's got nothing to direct his anger at. So it's just there, with nowhere to go and nothing to diffuse it.

But he's not even sure what he's angry about, in this case. That he'd learned the truth about Peter so soon before Peter had disappeared? That he hadn't known it sooner? That Peter had disappeared in the first place?

Or that he'd even known at all, if it was going to end like this?

So there's only one thing he can say for sure when Charles asks him how he's feeling.]

I don't know.

[welcomeprofessor]

[Charles continues to frown, a somber thing that understands far too much. He, in contrast to Erik's roiling anger, isn't much of anything anymore other than tired and saddened with a growing disillusionment to match. It's not enough to quite give up hope, not enough to get him to fully change his mind on how they--as a group entity, if one actually does exist--should respond to these outrageous and distressing situations. But it is enough to question.

He moves from the doorway to the end of the kitchen table, ignoring putting on a show when he's here for Erik, not real use of the room, and continues to regard him with the same morose expression that's not quite conciliatory.]

I'm not going to say you should talk about it, though...you should, even if it's not with me. [He did just say it anyway but that isn't the point.] But I am sorry, Erik.

[He won't qualify that with what. Not when it's still potentially so volatile. Not when he'd screwed this up the last time. He's certain Erik knows. Whatever loss he wants to recognize in that is on him. Both, if he wants it, there's certainly no lacking for pain here or back home.]

[frankensteinian]

It won't change anything. [It happened, all of it, and there's nothing anyone can do about it anymore. Talking about it won't make things suddenly any different. It's better just to put it behind him and get on with his life.

He doesn't know how much Charles knows, either, and there's no way to know that without asking. Which then brings up more conversations he doesn't want to have, that won't make a difference.

He still hasn't looked directly at Charles, instead directing his attention to the sandwich he's currently assembling.]

[welcomeprofessor]

No, it won't.

[He's not going to pretend that there's anything that brings them back. The world, for all of its wonders and intricacies, hasn't evolved quite that far. He knows plenty, either afraid to address it or unsure of how, but that doesn't change how it's a constant consideration.

Pain always is.

He continues to keep his eyes on Erik, even if it isn't a gesture given in kind.]

But you're still here. Surely that counts for something?

backdated to before fogpocalypse

[seeingscarlet]

Wanda managed for about a week and a half because she had to. Everything was such a mess that she simply couldn't afford to collapse in the wake of Peter's disappearance. There were people to rescue from their own bad decisions and then everything was such a mess that not keeping it together was not an option.

But eventually, the external stressors lessen and there's nothing left to keep her from emotionally crashing hard.

Wanda doesn't leave her room much for a week, and when she does venture into the kitchen it's at off times. She's not sure what to do with another round of 'sorry's and pity. She doubts she'd get that from Erik (not if that simmering anger is anything to go by) and she really is hungry, so Wanda decides against retreating to her room.

She's not really sure what to say (or if she should say anything at all) but that decision is quickly taken from her. Erik's standing in front of the cabinet with the frying pan.

"Excuse me." Her voice is a little hoarse from disuse. Clearly she's not handling this well either.

[frankensteinian]

"Oh." He turns when he hears he speak. He hadn't heard her come in, and hadn't known she was there until she said something. Not just because she didn't make much noise, but because he's preoccupied with other things as well. "Of course."

He moves out of the way, to a different section of the counter, where he sets down his mug of space-coffee. "You're doing better? After...the mess from last month?"

If they talk about that, then they don't have to talk about what neither of them wants to talk about.

backdated

[el_paso]

Logan's a sudden fixture around the mansion, a stop off while there's errands to run and kids to check on. He's paused in the library, paging through a volume for Laura, with a few more books at one elbow and a tumbler of scotch at the other.

Hearing movement at the door, and a familiar scent ghosting alongside it, he peers over his glasses. Magneto.

"Long time no see," he remarks, an air of cool neutrality to his voice.

[frankensteinian]

He's a bit surprised to see Logan here, considering that Logan doesn't live here anymore, but this is Charles' house. It's between him and Logan.

"I've been busy." He hasn't, really, no busier than usual, but he's not going to tell Logan that. It's none of Logan's business that he's been purposely making himself scarce, or why.

"I'm sure you've survived bigger disappointments than this."

[el_paso]

Logan rolls his eyes over the book before he closes it, setting Hank the Cowdog aside, atop Shiloh.

"You have no idea," he snorts, and gives the chair across the table from him a nudge with his foot. The bottle of (passable) scotch is within easy reach, as is an empty glass.

Have a seat. He reaches for a copy of Yours Turly, Shirley, and sets to flipping through it next.

[frankensteinian]

This is strange, and more than little unexpected. Social hour with Logan? Charles' jab about the kids following his example stings though, and well, maybe he should try to set a better example. Of some sort.

Still. This does look a bit contrived.

He reaches for the glass anyway, and the bottle to fill it, then finally takes a seat in the empty chair.

raven | ota

[athru]

[ Raven comes to the house - the mansion, really, and she just laughs because Charles would never not be Charles - because she has nowhere else to go. This is, apparently, where everyone lives and where everyone has settled down and she's not entirely sure how happy she is with the idea of it. She's still used to being on her own and even the mansion at home isn't exactly comfortable for her. It's not her childhood home and there are no shrines, but... It's finding comfort again.

She has a room, though, thanks to Charles, and she spends the first few days of her arrival there trying to settle and make herself comfortable with it. She finds something for her to put her name on the door and she spends most of her time arranging things how she likes. It's barren and empty and it's not homey at all, but -- it's fine. She's not used to having a home anyway.

Once she's settled, as comfortable as she can manage, she starts venturing out and actually exploring. She doesn't go blue all the time, not just yet, not until she's sure she's comfortable, but when she's a little more settled she lets herself shift into her natural form, stretching out limbs she hasn't used in days.

It's not exactly working, and she's on edge with regards to the people she knows and doesn't know, but she's trying. She's doing her best and what more could people ask for? ]

[frankensteinian]

[He's not a telepath, so he doesn't notice when there's suddenly another mind around the house. He's been lying low recently, so he doesn't happen to be around when she moves in, either. It's not until they both happen to be out and about at the same time that he sees someone familiar also wandering through the house.

Or at least who he hopes is someone familiar.]

Raven?

[He looks much the same as he did when she saw him in Charles' house in the company of Apocalypse. He's dealing with a few things right now.]

[athru]

[ She's settled in, at least a little, before the inevitable happens. Erik is there and he looks almost the same as she remembers him - but that doesn't mean very much when he barely aged over ten years. When she turns to face him, though, there's no anger or doubt on her features; just a gentle, almost-there smile, twitching up on the corner of her lips. ]

Erik. I was wondering when you'd find me.

[ Raven moves to lean against a wall, just watching him for a moment. ]

[frankensteinian]

[He's been surprised a few times recently by the reactions to his presence here. Kurt had invited him to stay here almost in the same moment he had arrived. Jean had...well, at least seemed not to react as poorly to his arrival as others had.

Other reactions had been closer to what he expected. Peter had seemed almost personally offended by what had happened in D.C. But he doesn't want to think about Peter right now. Which at least seems to be a similar opinion of others in the house.

He hadn't known what kind of reaction to expect from Raven if she arrived here, but it hadn't been this one. They hadn't seen each other in ten years, for one thing, and hadn't parted on the best of terms. What could have caused a response like this one?]

I hadn't expected to see you here.

[athru]

[ Raven isn't entirely sure what Erik does and does not remember, and she's not about to start prodding him for details just in case she makes a mistake. She knows what it's like to press Erik too far and ask too much from him and it results in him breaking apart a little, losing himself to the suffering that rests in his heart and the pain that's always present no matter how far they come in time.

She has no idea what he might have imagined, seeing her here, but she crosses her arms and watches him all the same. It would be easier, she thinks, if she knew what sort of man she was looking at - the one who wanted to murder her in D.C.? The one who shot her in Paris? Or the one that had come back to her in Cairo?

There's definitely a fear, a concern, and maybe that's why she doesn't ask. She doesn't want to put it into words. Instead she just watches, and waits, and listens for all the unspoken things. ]

I hadn't expected to be here.

mom /holds chest

[shadowblends]

[His hands faintly tremble around the ceramic pot he's holding, lips moving a mile a minute as he mutters to himself, iridescent eyes flicking between the miniature alien plant and his feet.

It shouldn't be unexpected that Kurt finds comfort in seeing Raven walk around in her natural form. He has grown used to encountering her throughout the day, regardless of his devotion to his overflowing schedule. Ever since their arrival on Thisavrou, he's grown to relish having his own room and being able to fill it with things that bring him happiness.

He's hoping that's what Raven will get from this exotic little shrub to decorate her space with.

Continuing down the hall, Kurt pauses when he steps past a room, backpedals and examines the name written on the surface of the door, the edges of his lips curling into a smile. That certainly makes things a bit easier in the case of hunting her down to present his housewarming gift.

After tucking the item into the crook of his arm, he knocks on the door and waits as patiently as he can manage, trying not to squirm too much. There's so much that he wants to tell her and yet, he won't be able to reveal everything all in one day.

This is a decent place to start, though.]

she's hERE

[athru]

[ Raven is doing her best to settle down and relax, to make herself a new 'home' here, but it's not quite as easy as it seems.

It's not the same as going back to the mansion. It's not the same as returning as a teacher, or as someone desperate to find a means of helping a friend. Raven isn't here by choice, true, but... She is working on it. She's trying to make herself comfortable, to make herself happy, but it's not quite the same as what she had imagined when she first woke up. It's... Something she's beginning to learn, something she's trying to do - fit in.

She's good at blending in, not fitting in.

Hearing the knock on her door she pauses, putting the duvet in her arms down on the bed before she stalks over and pulls the door back. When she sees Kurt... It doesn't surprise her, really, but at the same time something tugs at her heart that she can't quite put into words. She stares down at him because she's not sure what to say, but when she does - ]

Kurt.

[ It seems to fall a little flat. ]

... Hello.

weeps happily

[shadowblends]

[The fact that Raven already seems somewhat deflated doesn't deter him any.]

Hi, miss-- [But for a moment, he ends up being at a loss. How exactly should he address her in this setting? They had said 'hero' before, which she'd denied more often than not and 'Mystique' felt too codename-y for his liking (regardless of how often she'd called him 'Nightcrawler' before.)

Kurt clears his throat, straightens from his brief derailment and offers his fellow mutant the gift.] I brought you a plant. It's, ah, some sort of alien flower. I liked the color and it's ... relatively easy to manage. [Look, he's never done anything like this before, but he's heard this is a good way to welcome someone into your home.] I have a few of my own.

[Making progress-- which is always good, right?

He stands with his arms outstretched, somehow managing to maintain eye contact through his earlier slip-up.] How are you settling in? Have you met any of the others yet?

POOR KURT

[athru]

[ Raven thinks that she ought to be a little nicer, all things considered, but at the same time she can't quite bring herself to do it. Instead, she shakes her head, humming softly. ]

Raven is fine. Do I look like I care about formality? [ It's never been something she's been particularly concerned about - her and authority have never quite gotten on well and she's never wanted to be in that position, not really. That was always Charles' world - professors and teachers and authorities and all the nonsense that went with it. She was just Raven, hanging around and waitressing and waiting to go home.

Reaching out, she takes the plant and glances at it for a moment before she nods her head. It's easy to go and place it on the dresser - she can worry about where it really ought to go later - because she has something a little more important to focus on. She has to worry about Kurt, and what it means that he's here and she's here and everything has happened.

Turning back, she offers a small smile, something a little more gentle than maybe she'd like. ]

Only Charles and Erik. I haven't really been wandering around.

jean grey | open | backdated to end of May

[greyate]

arrival;

[ It's a few days before she's cleared to go back home. By that point, she's regained some of her memory of the events surrounding her hospitalization. Not all of them but it's almost like following a trail of breadcrumbs. One small piece at a time. She has painkillers to take for any lingering pain but for the most part, any remaining bruises just look worse than they are.

The mental walls she's not able to get through are worse, she'd argue. But at the same time, Jean feels a little comforted by them. Even if they block her off from her powers. Even if they block her from being able to communicate mentally with Charles. She feels, deep down, that it's probably safer for everyone that way.

As soon as she walks through the doors of the mansion, she feels herself ease. This was her home, after all. Even if it wasn't the one back on her Earth. Wherever that was.

She smiles for what feels like the first time in forever. She makes herself walk around the first floor, even when she has to keep sitting down and taking a break, feeling winded. ]


bedroom;

[ Even after being under for a week, Jean felt exhausted in multiple ways after finally returning home. The meds probably helped with that, causing her to take frequent naps and sleep deep enough during the night that she didn't dream. It was a mixed blessing: no dreams meant no nightmares yet at the same time she felt like she was waiting for the next shoe to drop. She didn't even know why. There's just a lingering dread coiling in the back of her mind. One that feels similar to how she felt when she kept having her visions except heavier.

She doesn't talk about it out loud but it's hard not to turn it over in her head when she's alone. She ends up retreating to her music, headphones on and music turned up, trying to get lost in the songs and not think about anything.

Her door stays closed but it isn't locked. A part of her keeps hoping Peter will show back up and burst through her door after a round of rapid knocking. It doesn't happen. Add the cold weather making her plants start to wilt and she has little motivation to leave her room at all. ]


kitchen;

[ Yet there are still some nights when Jean finds herself up late and heading down to the kitchen. It makes her miss Logan and Laura being in the mansion with them that much more. She doesn't even know where Ro went.

It's thoughts like that that lead her to try to indulge in some late night snacking but ends up just sitting at the island in the middle of the kitchen, arms folded on the countertop and head resting on her arms. Sometimes she has her music with her, other nights she scrolls through the Network, distracted and not really seeing the posts.

She goes to Peter's inbox a few times, wondering if leaving him any messages would help. If she would get some kind of response. When she tries to send anything, it says the user is no longer available. She does it a few times just to make sure it's no glitch.

One night, something about it is upsetting enough to make the lights in the kitchen flicker, the dishes in the cabinets clatter and then, the cabinet doors all swing open in one violent burst. The fridge and stove do the same, the noise loud in the silence of the night and echoing through the mansion. Jean jumps where she is on the stool, startled and not at all expecting that to happen. Not when she has been blocked off from her own powers ever since she woke up.

After the shock wears off, however, she's getting off the stool and going around to manually close everything, rushing but trying to be quiet about it, too. ]

[seeingscarlet]

[To say that Wanda's not doing well would be a bit of an understatement. She's hid it, suppressed it as much as she could for Charles and Jean's sakes, but being around the others without Peter is like pulling threads out of a blanket or instruments out of a song. It just doesn't feel right. And for the first time since she came here, she dearly misses the telepathic shielding on her old room.

She's mostly succeeded at keeping to herself (aside from that argument with Charles), but she can't not investigate whatever that noise was. For a moment she's afraid some angry Savrii might have broken in. She reaches out her thoughts...but it's just Jean.

Something must be wrong if she's dropped something (or whatever that noise was).

Wanda slips downstairs, then thinks better of accidentally startling her friend and knocks on the wall by the entryway.]

Jean?

[greyate]

[ She can feel a familiar signature coming down the stairs and almost thinks to leave the kitchen and avoid them. But then she recognizes it: Wanda. She sighs, defeatedly when she hears the other's voice, her back to Wanda and head bowed down as she leans against one of the counters. ]

It was an accident. Sorry for the noise.

[seeingscarlet]

[If Jean thought that was going to be enough to get Wanda to leave, she really must have forgotten who she's talking to. Instead of going away, Wanda steps into the kitchen proper.]

Are you hurt?

[Generally, when given the option to fuss...Wanda will take it.]