Charles Xavier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aberranthubris) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-07-07 10:56 pm
aberranthubris) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-07-07 10:56 pm
Entry tags:
- poe dameron | black leader,
- wanda maximoff | scarlet witch,
- † anatoly eldarov | n/a,
- † brendan frye | n/a,
- † charles xavier | professor x,
- † gabrielle lancret | cinders,
- † jean grey | the phoenix,
- † jyn erso | kestrel dawn,
- † kara zor-el | supergirl,
- † miles vorkosigan | admiral naismith,
- † sansa stark | little bird,
- † sherlock holmes | n/a,
- † yusuke kitagawa | fox,
- †: armitage hux | starkiller
Catchall for July
WHO: Charles Xavier, Charles!clone and You!
WHERE: A bit of everywhere.
WHEN: July
WHAT: Meetings, powers training, random encounters, clone-a-rama.
WARNINGS: TBA, Charles clone is likely to use telepathy without IC consent. Here is my telepathy permission post if you want to opt out of that.
MEET CHARLES
MEET THE CLONE
WHERE: A bit of everywhere.
WHEN: July
WHAT: Meetings, powers training, random encounters, clone-a-rama.
WARNINGS: TBA, Charles clone is likely to use telepathy without IC consent. Here is my telepathy permission post if you want to opt out of that.
a. home, still at Nonah
Charles lives in Nonah, in individual housing with Erik, Jean and Wanda. It's a two story building but with no stairs at the front and no thresholds that would make it hard to navigate with a wheelchair. If he has invited you into his home, he'll be waiting with a pot of tea and a tin of cookies. But if you're a chance visitor, he will welcome you just as warmly.
He's gathering his bearings finally and actually made a home for himself in the bedroom that used to be his, claimed some space around the house by piles of books often forgotten onto the tables and good scotch in a reachable cupboard in the kitchen. He's no longer red as a lobster what was going on after the beach episode of Swear-ins and Erik finally convinced him to have a haircut. Gone is the mullet and back is the 60's floppy hair-do. You might even catch him wearing a t-shirt, maybe with an X-men logo on it or a silly slogan, he got a few of those from Fanport.
Let's have a cup of tea or a game of chess, or just good conversation.
b. powers training at the danger room / Maria-Francis Foundation
The Maria-Francis Foundation building resides inNonahDe Chima. In the basement there is a wide space that Erik has been working with all month to get up and running as a powers training centre. The building is modern and tall, and Charles has taken a habit of waiting the people he's made appointments with at the front lobby.
He's excited to get the actual training started, get those hours in and grind some practice into people who have contacted him.
If you're not here for powers training, you can find him in the office, going through the Foundation's paperwork. You're damn right he's snooping on his own business. What of it?
c. interview, wherever seems convenient
Perhaps you're meeting him in a cafe or a park, he'll even agree to go the beach if that's convenient for you. What he's interested in is learning about what you have to say after all. Charles is very curious about what has aspired in this world before his time and how to put the details together into a cohesive picture in his mind.
He's quick to greet you with a smile and a warm handshake. Please, sit down. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee first? Do you mind if he makes some quick notes while you're discussing?
d. wildcard
Would you like something else? Perhaps run into him in the library or find him feeding pigeons one fine morning in the park? Maybe he was supposed to come to you? Are you having a dinner out? Are you one of the people he keeps an eye on and something is going awfully wrong? He would find a way to contact you. Throw me a bone, I'll run with it.
e. random encounter
Charles, the clone, looks and sounds exactly like the original but he doesn't have the stylish wheelchair with big X-symbols on the wheels. A big giveaway? Maybe not. His flippant attitude is probably the big neon sign that you weren't expecting. Wherever you meet - cafe, library, school, even the Foundation building - he's going to greet you with a sunny smile and a warm handshake, introduce himself if necessary and especially if you're a pretty brunette, he will flirt playfully while falling short with playing the caring and concerned game that Charles excels at.
He's going to be a little bit impatient, unlikely to avoid using his gifts even if you ask him to and multitasking to the max. Good luck catching all of his attention at any given time. But he's new to his powers, and easily overwhelmed.
f. for those he's interacted with before
As time goes by, he will start targeting Charles' friends and family. He'll find them at their work places or stage a random meeting elsewhere. Once or twice he'll even wander into the house in Nonah. You might find him at the kitchen having a cup of tea and leafing a genetics book, or perhaps wandering around, looking at pictures and fingering everything with curiosity. Or rolling into your workplace with a sunny smile and a suggestion to grab an early lunch.
g. wildcard
Something else you had in your mind? I'm an open book, come at me, bruh!
no subject
His tone held a definite thread of curiosity. "That must have been difficult, for a child." He ought to know, he had always been incredibly observant, to the point where sometimes it had been more of a hindrance than a help. Developing his abilities to allow him to deduct helped form a conduit for it. Still, even now, he couldn't turn it off, even if he tried. The empathy thing did remind him of that.
Charles' reassurance didn't really help his ego much, but it did make him feel a little better. Sherlock had done this song-and-dance thrice now, yet each time he felt like a child learning to ride a bicycle with how feebly he was able to control his burgeoning powers.
"Then you realize how annoying it is," Sherlock said as he followed along. "I can't afford my mind to be affected by other people's emotions, much less my own. Not to mention the logistical nightmare of one's body doing all manner of ridiculous things."
no subject
He lead Sherlock to the doors at the end of the hallway and opened the lock. The doors slid aside, revealing a big hall lined with sturdy metal from all sides. Bright lights blinked alive in the ceiling as they entered.
"I have very good idea how annoying it is," he gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. "If I don't hold up some kind of shields at all times, my mind is a chatterbox. Everyone in my range is screaming their thoughts right into my rather sensitive receivers. It can be a pain. But you can learn to control it, block it even. However, I would suggest that you look beyond that. There might be moments when you can't and the best way to deal with it is to learn to centre yourself, become the calm in the eye of the storm in a way of speaking. Let it pass you, stream right through you without affecting yourself.
"Emotions can be a strength, though. The trick is to learn to observe yourself as well, see the effecting factors and then pick and choose which ones to permit more influence."
He paused and turned to Sherlock as the doors slid shut behind them. "Can you always make a distinction between your own emotions and the ones that come from outside?"
no subject
"That sounds painful--" An uncomfortable pause. It's enough that a flicker of metal shines across his face before disappearing when Sherlock gets control of himself. "I prefer not to, actually. I'd rather simply deny the emotion. It's worked well for me for quite some time, really."
Emotions can be a strength. That was everything he'd been against for years. Sentiment was not an advantage. Caring was not an advantage. Adages he'd proclaimed time and time again. And yet recently, with his sister--he'd learned to use emotion as a tool--his own natural empathy had allowed him to find her and save John...Sherlock's troubled by the thought, and again the metal shimmers across his skin before disappearing again.
"Most of the time, it's difficult. When it first started I didn't know they weren't my emotions."
no subject
"Sure," Charles said calmly. "It wasn't pleasant." There was a surge of something, something awfully suffocating and dark that resided inside him, a well of emotion that he didn't let surface. There was abuse, there was abandonment, struggle with self-worth, everything you could expect from a good old family trauma from the 30's. But he pushed it aside after just a few seconds with determination, his thoughts filled up with Raven and the rapport he had had with her. Good things, affection, love.
He also didn't disagree with Sherlock, not right that moment, but it was obvious through his mental feedback that he didn't see it that way at all. Charles definitely let his emotions have a huge influence in his life.
He could see how Sherlock wanted to cocoon himself. It flickered across his face several times and Charles felt genuinely bad for him. Obviously he hadn't wanted any of this.
He sighed and turned again, leading the way to the other side of the hall. There was a single armchair there. Cushioned, old, worn leather and in front of it a footstool. "Please, sit," Charles said as he parked his own chair opposite of the arm chair. "I'd like to try something that helped me with my powers."
no subject
Sherlock picks up on that swirl of emotions, something he couldn't quite place being overtaken by affection and love. It's baffling to him, now that he's beginning to identify such things, and a flicker of orange-and-red feathers appear on his hands before fading again in seconds.
Sherlock frowned, rubbing his now-normal hands again absently, as he sat down in the old, worn leather armchair. His posture is extremely rigid, and he's clearly tense. The tension manifests as his blue eyes flickering, then staying a bright red.
"All right." Worried, him? No, not at all...his red eyes grew brighter, though he didn't know that they were doing that, of course.
Truly though, he'd had bad experiences with powers in the past, in this world. For all his considerable intellect, emotion was the one thing that tripped him up constantly.
no subject
"Lean back, try to relax. Close your eyes and go through your muscles from the top of your head to the bottoms of your feet, relax. Let's breathe in together, I'll count to eight on the first inhale, then again to eight on the exhale. Try to relax with each exhale a little more. Pull your shoulders back and rest your head back against the chair." It was the beginnings of a meditation routine.
However, when Charles started counting. He only counted the inhales and exhales until he felt that Sherlock's breathing had entered that calm and slow place that came with meditating, slowing the body down. His voice was calm, assertive but very calm, soft around the edges, his Oxford accent a little more pronounced as he got into it, relaxing himself, eyes closed.
"Imagine yourself as a house. What kind of house are you? Are you a cottage by the sea or a mansion on a hill. Imagine the foyer and the staircase. Look into the kitchen and sitting room. What kind of furniture you have? A familiar armchair perhaps. Your bed in the bedroom. A fireplace, maybe."
no subject
"If you insist."
He acquiesces to Charles' commands, doing the breathing exercises and relaxing as best he could, and the meditative state began to take hold as he did calm.
In his mind's eye, he drew up what he could only imagine as a house that would be him--221 B Baker Street. A flash of nostalgia nearly threatened to transform him once more, but the calm state dissipated it before it could take hold. Fondness, however, changed Sherlock's dark curls to a soft orange.
The image of 221 B stayed in his mind, the messy flat, his books everywhere, the dust, the worn carpet on the staircase, the kitchen full of unseemly experiments, forgotten lunches and chemicals. His own familiar armchair came into view, as did the rest of the living room and fireplace.
no subject
"You are in that house. Your roots, your personality, yourself. Look for it. Is it a book? Or a drawing? What do you think the best represents yourself? Is it several things? It could be. It's in there, that is the important fact. Focus on it. Take it up and inspect it."
He gave Sherlock a moment to do this, a chance to establish this item or a thing that he would liken himself as.
"Now, no one else can touch this item. That is you. Put it in a safe. Somewhere in the corner, hidden behind the curtains maybe, or under the chair. What would be a safe place? Is there a friend with you? Give it to them if you trust them enough with it."
no subject
Clearly in his mind, his violin appeared. It wasn't the same violin he'd had for years, but the newer one--new being relative, as it was a Stradivarius. Terrible memories were attached to it, but also good ones as well, ones that have somewhat tempered the bad. It was extremely well-cared for, a perfect instrument, with an incredibly rich tone, if played.
There was a visage of John Watson, his best friend, a clear affection was there for him in this mindspace, and he was holding the Strad carefully, as if it might shatter with the wrong movement.
"All right. I've done it."
no subject
He didn't analyse it now, merely smiled at the obvious frustration and yet a willingness to give into it, trust another. Charles felt somewhat honoured, definitely pleased.
"Now, I want you to walk to the front door and open it. Invite anyone who passes by inside. Let them walk inside your house, let them look at your belongings,
perhaps even touch them. But you are in control of this. You let them see what you want them to see. But knowing that they can never find that part of yourself that you've hidden away. Because it's up to you to give that permission to anyone.
Whoever happens to pass by. It doesn't matter who they are. But they should be real. Reach out a bit with your powers, let them find you. Maybe just a one."