maskormenacelogs | pour a little salt we were never here

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pour a little salt we were never here | closed

WHO: Erik

incogneto & Charles

excessivehubris
WHERE: Nonah
WHEN: After this
WHAT: Just 2 friends who are totally not enemies getting together for the greater good to discuss discrimination and there is no way this could in any way go wrong in any way whatsoever, at all.
WARNINGS: "Erik, no"

When he comes over, he doesn't bother to knock or even leave any pretense that he won't just unlock the door and barge on in. He is, however, going to try and let Charles lead this conversation, because as he just saw very recently, Bad Things Happen when he lets his anger override all his other functionalities. He finds Charles, and pulls up the nearest seat, and sits down.

"So," he starts, thinking they could be halfway to Russia. "What do you think?"

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"Hello, Erik. How delightful of you to stop by, won't you come in? Please, take a seat." Charles remarked in a dry tone after his door had already been opened, walked through, closed and Erik had appropriated what appeared to be the most comfortable chair in the small house.

Never mind that Charles was in the kitchen, making a pot of coffee. Yes coffee, this was Erik after all. Charles only served the metal bender tea if he was feeling pissy and wanted to make a passive aggressive point. The scent of a dark roast wafted through the air as the automatic coffee maker did it's thing.

"Where, precisely would you like to start, my friend?" Charles remarked, smoothly navigating the wheelchair out of the kitchen for the time being and rolling over to where Erik was sitting. "With the fact that we appear to be in an even more vulnerable position here, then we were back home? Russia? What happened in Heropa? You've been here longer than I, has it always been this ..." Charles paused, searched for a good word and settled on, "Tense?"

Good thing they were above such passive-aggressions then, as Erik has no patience for that type of thing today. Not even from an old friend who he still feels a need to apologize to, as if having offended him in a particularly realistic dream. That's what this feels like.

"Yes," he says. "It's very tense. But they haven't yet waged a war with us. Grown tired of us, sure." Though, he hasn't had a full picture and he thinks it would demand too much time to be given one. Yet, now that Charles is here, maybe he could set up an audience with the person he knows who's been here the longest, hoping he'll be open to a bit of telepathic rifling. Maybe they can discuss that later.

Erik's knee-jerk action is that they prepare for war, regardless. But now... "I want to start with a plan. You must have an idea."

Resting his elbow on the arm of his chair, Charles rubbed his hand over his face before giving Erik a slightly incredulous look.

"I must have an idea? I would figure you'd have already been up to something," Charles retorted. "And I don't know about whether or not they've gone to war with us. It sounds as if the Russian's have made their position very clear."

And it certainly wasn't in favor of mutants. However, that reminded Charles.

"Who is Lachesis?"

Sure, Erik has an idea. But that idea is to find passage to Russia and give them a piece of their minds, so probably it's not the best idea. It's just. An Erik idea.

"Lachesis is the one who possessed the Porter. She controls the machine. She did this on another universe just like this one, before her sister destroyed it and she moved some of the Imports to this world. Whatever she is, we're important to her."

Yeah, he knows. He thinks it sounds pretty ludicrous too.

"She's silent."

If, you know, that helps matters.

Erik. No.

The explanation earns the other man a slightly incredulous arch of a dark eyebrow.

"A sentient being is thought to control that machine?" That came as a definite surprise and put a thoughtful look on Charles' face as he tried to wrap his head around that one without shuddering.

Too many fresh memories of the Sentinels.

But it was Erik's last comment that caught his attention.

"Silent or silent?" As he asked the question, Charles lifted his fingers and waggled them beside his temple, the unspoken question obvious. Had anyone tried to telepathically communicate with this ... lady of the Porter?

Erik crosses his arms over his chest as he pours himself a mug of coffee from where he's sitting, knowing full well that Charles was going to do that. There he is, that telepath that Erik is both proud of and exasperated with in the same turn.

"You can try, but she did bring us here. And of all the others, none of them have gotten her to do anything other than introduce herself."

It's alright, it's not like Erik wasn't also this hopeful when he got here. And to be frank, Erik would rather find Clotho anyway. She destroyed one world already...

There was a good reason he had a couple of mugs with significant metal accents. There may also be a plate or two up there as well.

"Do you know how they went about getting in contact with her?" Charles inquired, nonplussed by the mug of coffee that was probably floating by at this point. "I'd hate to retread already covered ground."

"No," Erik responds truthfully. "As far as I know, she only comes when she wants, not when she's called. Maybe RISE will know, or our ambassador. Let me know when you decide to ask," he says, knowing full well that it's not a matter of if. This is important to him, to exhaust every single path. And Erik can take him on that journey.

"Francis," Charles remarked. "I've already had an opportunity to meet him, an interesting fellow. He talked about a desire to get close to the Porter and that he hadn't received much cooperation from the government along those lines. "

It had been an interesting conversation.

"I'm surprised your name didn't come as leading the charge along those lines?" The words were a bit of a double edged sword but there was a touch of friendship in the tone. He may be suggesting that Erik was a little head strong but despite the fact that it often left Charles to pick up the pieces, perhaps he wouldn't have his old friend be any other way.

"Things are different here," he says, quietly. "For instance, did you know there's a school with your name on it? It's in Heropa. But... for your information, no. Some of them... like this. It's difficult to imagine this is what our world could be like."

And okay, admittedly between Crane and Pan technically they've got a sort of Shaw situation where a lot of the antagonism is coming from within. Plus... there's that other thing, that one where his grandson wouldn't even look at him for a month... yeah anyway. "I don't know what to make of it."

Except that they're a big mess. Seriously.

"I did," he answered, in response to the question about the school. "I've been down to talk with Professor Callaghan about possibly picking up a class or two."

That was a slightly odd situation that Charles was still attempting to get his head around to be honest.

"You don't?" Charles said, looking a little bemused by that answer but then forcing himself to remember that Erik hadn't yet lived through learning about the future. About both futures. ~~Fucking time travel.~~

Sighing softly, he set his elbow on the arm of the chair and his jaw against folded knuckles. Quiet for a moment as he collected his thoughts.

"Raven was going to kill Trask, murder him in cold blood. That act, combined with the government then getting hold of her and her DNA, is what originally set us on a course for complete annihilation. You were right, their fear lead us all down a destructive path."

Lowering his hand, Charles leaned forward slightly in the chair, studying his friend's face.

"Look around you, Erik. This world? The fear is mounting. Displays like what I saw, what I read about ... how bad has it gotten since you arrived here?"

He wasn't accusing Erik of making things difficult, but rather genuinely wondering what Erik had seen in his time in this world.

Edited 2016-01-16 02:50 (UTC)

"It's... Stable," he says. No, he takes that back. He shakes his head. "It's consistent." And by that he means, it's as consistent as it is inconsistent, a hodgepodge of many messes. "That's the problem. There are just as many of us who come here who never had powers, as the ones who have always had powers. Ones who are established heroes, or villains. Supervillains, even."

"The turnover rate is high. And as far as I've been told, this is how the relationship has been from the very start." But he knows how that goes. Of course he knows where that leads, he's not stupid enough to believe this is an ideal state or even a manageable one. That's the problem-- he's not an authority here. They won't listen, they don't have a reason to. There's no need for a leader because there are already a hundred. He doesn't have a plan because whatever he's think of, they've already tried.

Well, in that case you find someone working on an issue you also want to see resolved and offer support. At least, that's the conclusion that Charles is coming too since he's also picked up on the theme of 'too many cooks'.

Still, he sits back and is quiet for a bit, obviously thinking through what he already knows and what he still wants to learn about.

"It sounds as if we know just enough to be dangerous but not enough to make a definitive action plan. It also sounds as if those with negative intentions have very little incentive not to do their worst. That we have a cagey government that isn't as invested in sending us back as you'd think they'd want to be and some sort of ... inter dimensional magical being, controlling our arrivals."

That sound about right?

"Now you're all caught up," he says, finishing his cup of coffee and brewing himself another one. "I wanted to know why. Why they expend so much effort bringing us here, why not just close the portal?" And if they can't close it, why not just tell everyone?

But he digresses.

"The more questions you ask, it seems, the deeper the rabbit hole is."

And so lies the dilemma of how to act. Even though Erik was so wrong he could at least predict what could happen back home. Here? Here, it's impossible to see.

"I'd imagine that if the Porter is under the control of this being, this Lachesis? They might not have a choice." Which might also explain why having her/it in the hands of the Russians would be problematic.

If that was even the truth.

Still, he'll set that aside for now, choosing instead to watch Erik closely before asking quietly.

"How are you holding up? Inactivity was never your long suit," which made the ten years in solitary a wonder that Erik hadn't come out completely crazed.

He grows thoughtful for a second, and then says: "I celebrated Hanukkah with my grandson. He's twenty." That should explain a lot. Or lead to more questions, probably, maybe a congratulations or two but. He was actually... kind of enjoying normalcy, if only for fits and spurts at a time. Celebrating Hanukkah with Billy, having a pizza party on Christmas. Worrying more about everyone else worrying about politics.

Actually, it's been a little bit liberating. "His mother was here, but she didn't know who I was." In other words. "So... I'm fine." He's got estranged family, he might have contributed to building a school, apparently he assassinated the president, 2015 was pretty eventful for him!

"Your grandson," that definitely got a lift of both brows in an expression of genuinely delighted surprise. "Congratulations, Erik. Or at least congratulations for the future."

There was a warm smile that broke out across his features, obviously at the thought of Erik having a family but it dimmed slightly when Erik went on to explain. That the grandson's mother, who would obviously be Erik's daughter, didn't remember him suggested some sort of strangeness. As if their lives simply could not be normal.

That was a sobering thought but one Charles quickly shunted away, choosing instead to focus on Erik's current circumstances.

"It's good you got to celebrate the holiday with him. I'm ... happy for you, my friend."

Well according to Billy, it's complicated. But he's glad to have the opportunity. And he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't been preoccupied with personal matters. It's just hard not to be, when for the last two decades he's told himself he'd have to give it up. Settling down. Having children. It is a change of pace for him, and lifestyle. A whiplash.

But it's... well. It is.

"Thanks," he says, and clears his throat. "It hasn't seemed real at all. No one else is here, that we know." Actually, it's been kind of an uncanny valley almost. It's so close but so far from everything he's so used to.

"So I've noticed," Charles remarked, reaching up to wiggle his fingers at his temple. He may have done some looking.

"I'd be more amazed at the idea of future mutants, were it not for recent events. I'm beginning to question how many splintered timelines there may be in our histories."

"Thousands," Erik responds, immediately. "There are particularly many Earths, probably because we're on one. It might have a special connection with other versions of itself. That's what I think, anyway. There are a few from our future, and from our past, and a few where we don't exist. Mutants don't exist."

He pulls his lips together in a deep frown. "I could have done so much in those ten years."

"Plausible theory," Charles agreed, on the idea of there being so many multiple Earths, drawn to an Earth like world. He'd actually have to sit and think on that for a bit. But the idea of thousands of them.

Thousands of timelines, thousands of potential outcomes to millions of minute decisions. It was more than a little mind boggling and Charles wasn't sure how he felt about it. It would mean that there was potentially a timeline where Logan's mission failed and things possibly got worse if Raven had killed Trask in front of the President.

Alright, that path of thought lead to madness, it was best to shelve it for the time being.

As for those ten years. Charles' lips curved in a sad smile. "I can say the exact same thing about myself. At least you didn't entirely choose to waste those ten years. I did so ... voluntarily."

He couldn't go back and change that time in his life and Charles understood himself well enough to know that at the time, in so many ways, he'd been just as trapped as Erik. None of it had been ideal but the fact that he had abandoned the others, at a time of great need; that was a regret he would have to live with and hopefully learn from.

There was a timeline. There was that timeline and the two of them lived it. But these other worlds weren't built on singular decisions and they were definitely real. Erik just assumes Charles takes it for given that that is their truth.

"Don't," he starts, cutting Charles off, but giving him an understanding look. He shouldn't punish himself for inaction if he'll so readily forgive Erik for his actions. Sort of. This is complicated.

"Maybe this isn't our shot to get it right," he says. "But that doesn't mean we can't take the opportunity."

At the 'don't' Charles glanced up and his lips twitched but he did as advised and let it go for the time being.

Instead, he arched an eyebrow and glanced around.

"You mean get it right, here?"

"I mean let's get it right here, let's take it home. Let's get it right there, too."

Then he pauses, and backs up for a second. "From all the people I've surveyed, it looks like the portal isn't reliable and imPorts get sent home all the time."

Which means Erik can go back to 1962, right?

And Charles could walk again, maybe.

Erik's looking at him; he's the one with the time travel experience.

Charles lifted an eyebrow, obviously caught by the idea but between one breath to the next, he sobered and frowned pensively.

"If that is even an option," he said. "Have you heard of anyone going home from here and remembering their time here? Obviously I was here before but I have no memory of it, Erik."

"At least one," he replies. "It's rare. Rarer than coming back and not remembering... But it's not impossible. I don't know what causes it. Clearly if there's a chance I went back in your timeline, I didn't remember."

But. There's a slight chance, a tight window, but it's not like Erik hasn't thought of doing other things that seem impossible.

"Coming back here and remembering but did they say anything about having memories of this world, when back in their own?"

It seemed an important distinction to make. Though, Erik raised another one and Charles frowned, pensively.

"I hadn't thought about that, the fact that even though you appear to be the man I know, our timelines might not be the same."

After all, they were from two very different points times. Charles had been younger than Erik but here, he was ten years older.

"Charles, there are people here who know us from a future. From a timeline that might not be ours, because I haven't done the things I was supposed to have done. I don't have the answer to the question, will we go back and remember this conversation? It's improbable, but what else am I going to do here?"

For having been here a few months, all Erik has are questions. Questions, and no answers.

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pour a little salt we were never here | closed

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lmao fassbender's head looks huge in that icon

Balances with JMac looking like he's got lipstick on

yeah but he always looks like that

Fair Point

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