The New Mutants (80's Era Marvel AU; IC)

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
Last edited:
  • Useful
Reactions: Eon

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
September 31, 1988 (Late afternoon)
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
New York



2 men sit in a very nice office within the large school. It’s Professor Xavier’s office, in the east wing of the ground floor. They have been sitting in this office for close to an hour… debating. The man in the wheelchair sits near the large bay window, it looking out towards the vast property. The trees in the distance are in the midst of revealing their fall colors. Upon the couch in the office sits another man, one dressed in very nice business attire. Oh he’s covered with blue fur also. His name is Hank McCoy, and he’s the Professor’s assistant. But more than that, he’s one of Charles’ best friends.



“Charles… it isn’t that I disagree. Quite the contrary, I would say. But…” Hank falls silent as he now takes off his reading glasses, setting them on the end table next to him. Charles doesn’t look over his shoulder towards Hank yet as he speaks, his tone calmed and soft. “Erik is still out there. Somewhere. There are rumors amongst those in the Alley” “The Morlocks” Hank intercedes… now causing Charles to look towards him with a small frown. And Hank just smiles, holding up his hands as he speaks softly. “Terribly sorry. Please, continue good sir.” Charles watches him a moment, and then looks back towards the property as he does indeed continue. “Rumors from the… Morlocks… that someone is recruiting again. Recruiting for something sinister, I’m sure of it.”

Now Hank leans back on the couch, his legs crossing at the knees as he speaks. “And you think it’s Erik once more. We’ve not heard anything of him for… years. The new X-Men, I don’t even believe they know of him. You can’t be sure it’s him.” Charles nods a little, his wheelchair turning as his hands grip the wheels themselves, pulling and pushing them. “No, I can’t be sure. I can’t find him, no matter how hard we try. But we must assume there is something coming. The first class of X-Men… they mostly live as instructors now. Sean is on Muir Island… and…” he sighs gently as Hank finishes the thought “You know not if the 3 new members can be wholly relied upon.” There is a pause, as if Charles is gathering his thoughts.

“If I did not trust them, they would not be here. They would not be sent on the occasional mission. But they are so young, so inexperienced” Hank is about to say something, but Charles raises his hand to stop him as he continues “Save for Wolverine, I know. At their core… they are scared. Save… for Wolverine once more. But he has… a whole other level of problems.”

Hank has been staring at his bare feet this whole time, wiggling his furry blue toes idly as he thinks. Wiggling his toes helps him think sometimes. “Wolverine seems a fine fellow, with the best of intentions. But I, for one, find it hard to instill my trust ‘pon him. Nightcrawler is to inexperienced… and Storm… the lass means well. But no, they are not the first class in comparison. But the point of us opening these doors to young mutants was to provide safe harbor for them. A waypoint amongst the raging storm that is their lives. There are currently 17 students and wards within these walls. I wish not to ask any of them to go into some kind of combat situation. I would not have come here if your intention was to create an army of mutants. That makes us no better than those of Ge-“ Charles interrupts him, speaking in a soft and stern tone. “These children are not soldiers, Hank. But we can not ignore the fact that there are forces gathering… but mutant and not. Forewarned, forearmed; to be prepared is half the victory.” Hank smiles faintly, his fangs slightly showing as now his deep blue eyes meet Charles’ “Miquel de Cervantes. Very good.” “Thank you.” “I had no intention of implying we send these children ‘pon the beaches of war to besiege the castle. Most of their gifts don’t lend themselves to… being able to properly defend themselves or those around them. Not all of them are fighters. And before you say it, I know you’re thinking of a specific few. I am just… uneasy in this.” Charles nods, his hands now absently straightening the quilt covering his legs. “I am truly and sincerely uneasy with it too, Hank. I did not open these doors with any intention of battle. But I can’t deny…the world we live in… tensions have never been as high as they are at this moment. Forget the state of the mutant in this world… Lebanon, Libya, Sinai, Grenada, the Gulf of Sidra… the world has never been in such turmoil… not since the second world war. We must be prepared…” He shakes his head as he trails off, hating that he has to express such sentiments.

“I’m not disagreeing with you. I am just… uneasy. And… I’ve already put together a little list of those that would be most receptive to… advanced training.” Even though he doesn’t like it, Hank still had the forethought to do research on each student, both in regards to their powers and personalities. “I know you have, Hank.” Hank snortlaughs gently, tapping his own forehead “Right, of course you do. Then you know who we are considering. And… who we can ask to help with training…”

Charles draws in a slow and deep breath, once more wheeling himself to the window. “I think it will be good for Laura to be a part of this group. The child just isn’t opening up to anyone, aside from Logan. Piotr… I have never encountered a youth with such heart. One of the new arrivals… I think I agree with you in regards to her assessment. Only 3 so far, then?” Hank nods as he now pushes himself to his feet. “Yes, only 3 so far. But more students will be showing up on our doorstep soon, of this I am sure. But to be clear… they are not X-Men. Not yet.”

“Not yet.”



Most of the students within the school have made their way to their dorms, or congregated in what has become known as ‘The TV Room’. Because it has a TV. And a VCR. And a Nintendo. And a Sega Master System. That’s where most of the children choose to spend their time. Or out in the yard just being children. But yes, some have returned to their rooms to study for the next day’s classes. As kind as the instructors are here, they are also very strict in regards to schooling.

But there is one amongst the children that hasn’t yet been to any classes. Since she was brought here almost a year ago, she has been slowly adjusting to life on the outside. Trying for some sort of normalcy. The kind of normal her mother would have wanted for her. The kind of normal she knows she’ll never truly know.

And so she has, for the most part, shut herself off from the others. It’s not that she dislikes them. That’s not it at all. Young Laura actually enjoys being in their company. She truly does. But she has… many… emotional issues. The instructors have tried to help her, but she just closes herself off to others.

As example, while most are congregating in the TV Room, kitchen or dorms… she is sitting out in the front yard. She leans back on her hands as she sits there, the hood of her hoodie drawn up. She is wearing a pair of dark colored jeans, nothing fancy. Ever. Green eyes are cast out towards the front of the property. Watching the trees, watching for whatever might come down that long lane towards the school. She would occasionally hear some of the students (her hearing is very excellent, after all), but she chooses not to interact with them. And so she just sits… maybe just waiting for the new day to arrive.

Little does she know a new day has indeed arrived.


Tagging: Ms.Ezra Ms.Ezra , Gands Gands
 

Gands

Edgeknight
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
both
Favorite Genres
sci fi, modern magical, horror
Piotr Rasputin aka Colossus

Piotr has been here at the school for a while now. He likes his classmates really, but it isn't easy to relate to them. He often notices the little ghost. A girl who talks to no one, belongs to or with.. no one. So tonight he follows her with a sketchbook.

Sitting not far away, where he can see her face. He starts to sketch her in the moonlight. The only sounds are those of the night and his charcoal against the thick paper.

He thinks how hard she is on the outside. He wonders what has happened to her that she is so much like a gargoyle.

"Excuse me Miss Laura. We have not talked. I am called Piotr. Forgive me for disturbing. It is permitted to draw you ? "

Camleen Camleen
 
  • Like
Reactions: Camleen

Ms.Ezra

Innkeeper of The Enchanted Suites
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous
Favorite Genres
Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Superhero, Horror, Slife-of-life.

When the cab turns off the main road and drives past the front gates of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Janice takes off her headphones and pauses her Walkman, cutting off the chorus to look out the open window at the school grounds. She smiles at the greenery, and when they come in view of the school itself, herr eyes go wide. This place was bigger than the Plainfield town hall, plus the library next door. When she sees the other kids, Janice leans forward and uses the rearview mirror to try and check her face one last time. The cab driver chuckles and shakes his head slightly.

"Don't worry kid, you'll be breaking hearts in no time." He says and Janice blushes, sits back in the seat and says nothing out of embarassment.

At the front, the driver takes Janice's luggage out of the trunk and sets it on the steps while Janice, wearing her white 'Frankie Says Relax' Tshirt, blue jeans and red worn out sneakers, with headphones hanging on her neck and Walkman clipped to to the back of her belt, looks up and around at the place that'll be her school and home away from home.

"You want help getting this thing in?" The driver asks, patting the trunk that is almost as big as Janice herself. Janice takes out the money she'd set aside for his fare plus tip and nervously answers "I got this, you can go now." The driver accepts the cash, asks "You're sure? This thing's like, your size and heavier." She nods and the driver shrugs. "Alright kid you have fun, maybe I'll see you around town." The driver waves, gets back in his cab, and leaves.

Janice stands over her trunk, the thing that holds all her worldly possessions packed tight within, and then inside the mansion, instantly questioning why she'd turned down the offer and regretting it. She grabs the handle, and is surprised she has to drag it, but would manage to get it in by herself. With time, and a good amount of sweat of course.
 

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
As she sits there in the cool grass, her head tilts down just a little. A new scent in the air, one close to her. Well not ‘new’ persay, just one that she hasn’t really come to know yet. The tall kid. That’s how she knows him, really. She knows he’s not local, but beyond that she doesn’t have a whole lot to go on. To her, he’s just another face in the crowd, really. Just another one of those she seems to be actively avoiding. One that seems to be actively avoiding her.

Of course, she doesn’t really realize the intensity of the ‘leave me be or get cut’ vibe she seems often to give off.

Out of the corner of her eyes does she look towards Piotr as he makes his presence known. She just watches him, her bangs partially concealing those eyes. Why does he want to draw her? And what’s wrong with his voice? He talks weird.

Thinks the girl that hardly talks, period.

She just shrugs a little as she looks away from him, now sitting up in the grass. Her legs cross over one another lotus style, her hands kind of picking at the grass between her feet. It almost seems as if she’s suddenly become self-conscience.

For almost 10 minutes the young girl sits there, just staring out towards the front of the property. Not staring just blankly the whole time, mind you. Ever few moments she would chance to glance in Piotr’s direction. Why does he want to draw her, specifically? Is he part of some kind of trick the others are playing on her? Make her feel more important and wanted than she knows she truly is? Paranoid thoughts fill her mind… being socially awkward does take a toll, doesn’t it?

But at about minute 11 of Piotr’s drawing session… Laura’s gaze snaps towards the front yard, her eyes wide. Suddenly she bounds to her feet, her head tilted up slightly. A few moments later, and Piotr would hear the engine of that cab pulling up the lane. Her hands clench into fists as she watches it drive along the lane, her body turning to keep her eyes on it. It comes to a stop in front of the school itself, and now she takes a few steps towards it. She is suddenly standing next to Piotr, who seems to practically tower over her. She almost looks like she could go into a run right towards the school at any moment.

And her eyes narrow when she sees the cab driver get back into his car, leaving someone on the front steps. A girl. Her head tilts a little to one side as she stares at the girl in the distance, a small frown upon her lips. Laura looks silently towards Piotr, and then towards the new arrival. She starts to walk back towards the school, glancing again towards Piotr. As if wanting him to go with her. She goes into a sudden light jog, and as she gets to the front steps leading up to the school she kind of bounds up them easily.

Now she comes to a stop at the open front door of the school itself, gripping its edge as she half stands behind it. She stares at Janice, mentally noting how much effort it’s taking for her to drag that giant box in with her. What could possibly be in there? But there’s something else about the girl… she smells strange. Like… stranger than the other kids around her.

She smells like an electric drill. Which is an odd thing for her to equate it to, but that’s what she smells. It’s unlikely anyone else would catch the scent of ‘ozone’ on the girl, of course. But it’s one of the first things Laura notices. She notices odd things.


Tagging: Ms.Ezra Ms.Ezra , Gands Gands
 
K

KC

Guest
***elsewhere***
The bells on the door clinked lightly as his hand pushed the door open and walked into the seven eleven, a few patrons milling back and forth the aisles and another opposite the teller. The teller was an older man, perhaps in his sixties although Colt didn’t care for an exact measurement of age. It was simply the knowledge that he could outrun the man if need be. He didn’t hide his face, there was little point in that. Dressed in some jeans and a jumper he had managed to steal from a suburban home’s clothesline Colt walked down the first aisle, his eyes weary to judge where the other people in the store were as well as searching the shelves for anything of value to him. He was after small to medium objects, easy to pocket under his jumper that he could eat. His stomach had churned from hunger in the last two days and he couldn’t spend any longer thinking logical thoughts with it crying and trying to eat itself.

He carefully rounded into the next aisle, finding it vacant enough to seize the opportunity and slide two packets of instant noodles off the shelf, his fingers quick to flick the bottom of his jumper over them, hugging the packets against his stomach. He continued down the aisle and pocketed a tin of spam, a disgustingly artificial excuse for ham but none the less, Colt could not be picky. He heard the door bells chime and glanced up quickly to note who had entered the store. His eyes widened as he noticed an officer though it was clear the constable had stepped into the store for coffee and food. Keeping an arm hugged close against his stomach, Colt made quick on his plan to exit, walking down the aisle and around the corner with the door insight. As he shuffled past a customer and stepped towards the door he felt the shopping basket of a middle aged lady bump into him and sending the can of spam to the ground, the tin rolling along the ground and hitting the side of the counter where the teller, customers and the officer had all looked up to exchange a glance with Colt.

“Oi, you haven’t paid for that you little thief!” the teller yelled out as Colt pushed past the woman and flung the door open, the police officer taking one more glance to the teller and grabbing his radio as he took after the teen who had just left.

His breath was quick as his shoes hit the ground at a sprinting pace, the noodle packets loosened in the rush and were sent sprawling to the ground as Colt dodged a car and leapt over a bike rack to get away from the pursuing officer who was yelling for him to stop in between breathlessly directing his partner in the direction of pursuit. Colt was quick to gain ground from the officer but no amount of pace could outrun the officer’s partner who drove the police vehicle towards him, cutting off Colt ahead. He panicked, looking frantically as he ran towards the car, suddenly veering off and running into a local multistory car park. The car swung into the car park as Colt tried to make across to the stairs but was promptly cut off as the officer in the car swung in front of him. Turning on his heel, Colt looked for an alternative route, soon finding the other officer close in as his partner exited the car.

“Alright kid...stop running...” The police officer told him as his partner slowed to a walk, and put out his hands, Colt’s amber eyes widely staring them down as he looked between them, his left hand opening and a flame igniting in his palm.

“He’s lying...I paid...I was just hungry,” Colt snapped, watching the officer who was still trying to catch his breath move closer.

“Stop! Don’t come any closer...I don’t want to hurt you but I’ll do it” Colt threatened them as the other officer frowned. He had seen things like this before, though exactly what this kid could do was not completely clear.

“hey it’s alright, I just need to talk to you,” the constable offered as he stepped in front of the car and his partner, taking on Colt’s attention as his partner stepped back into the car with an idea.

“Bullshit, you wanna lock me up. It was just a couple of packets,” Colt growled as he juggled the flame between his hands, prepared to send a stream of flames between them as the constable wearily stepped a little closer.

“come on kid, there is no need for that,” the constable tried to sway Colt but to no avail as he stared back, his lips pursing in anger as he moved his hands, sending the flame down in front of him as the constable lurched backwards.

“I said back off!” Colt snarled, only he hadn’t accounted for the car park sprinkler system which soon began to shower them as the alarms sounded. He felt safer when the flames were around him, cutting the policeman’s path off from him and giving him more time to find some way to escape. But it was little use as the police officers shouted at each other and the officer from the car exited the vehicle with a small extinguisher, sending a sudden burst of white powder as if a blizzard had swept in with harsh abandon. Colt tried to expand the flames but they were smothered quickly and soon the white powder spurt across his form, cutting off any chance to ignite another defense. Before Colt could run he felt the force of the other officer crash tackling him to the ground, wrestling his arms as Colt shouted and fought.

Subdued after a few moments and covered in white foam, Colt was bundled into the back of the vehicle as the officers took off for the police station.

“how do I write the report on this one?” one of the officer murmured irritably as the other shook his head.

“Simple misdemeanor...I’ll handle it,” his partner replied as the other looked at him and raised a brow.

“oh you definitely will, you were meant to bring me a coffee and a sausage roll, not a delinquent freak,” the man’s partner replied as he glanced in the rear view mirror, Colt glaring back.

-----

Once at the police station, Colt was moved booked in and placed in a cell, still covered in the white foam which served only to prevent another incident. The disgruntled officer retired to grab a coffee while the other stepped into a free room, using a phone set to call the one man he knew could be of use to him with sorting out the teen.

‘freak,” Colt murmured to himself as he stared down at his foam covered jumper. How could this day get any worse? He thought to himself as he tried to create flame upon his palm despite being covered in the foam. Surely it couldn’t last for long. Glancing around the cell he cast a glance upon the cream colored walls, odd patches of graffiti but nothing terribly interesting. Thinking twice on the situation he reached down, pulling his jumper off and using the few clear patches to clean his arms. No one would stop him from trying.
Camleen Camleen
 
  • Like
Reactions: Gands

Gands

Edgeknight
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
both
Favorite Genres
sci fi, modern magical, horror
Piotr Rasputin aka Colossus

Piotr has been sketching the little ghost for a while now. Pretty much finished he thinks. She seems very nervous does the little ghost. Then like a hunting animal she becomes very tense. She stands, clenching muscles, moves and moves again nearer him.

She starts to walk off towards the front of the school. He suspects that the little ghost has powers as he has been told most everyone at the school does. Some tiny part of him notes that she has become excited or agitated for the first time in front of him. He had stood of course, putting away his sketch book.

He is not he notes, an expert on body language. But it seems clear, that the little ghost wants him to follow. So, of course...he follows. His long body makes short work of the distance. But he doesn't pass little ghost.

Now of course, for purpose of appearance, Piotr is tall at 6'1" and has spent a lifetime as a farm boy. He has a physique to match what you'd expect. But you can tell he is young, by his face of course and his hands & feet being a tiny bit bigger than you'd expect. He hands his sketchbook to Laura.

" Can you hold please miss Laura ?" the turning to young Janice...

" Pardon Miss, This is Laura and I am Piotr. Welcome to Xavier's school." He smiled at Janice.

" Sorry to say we are least popular students here. But good news, Laura knows school well, and I am strong to carry trunk. "

He did think Laura had a good idea where most things in the school were. especially for how short a time she'd been here. And, he thought to himself with a mischievous mindset, perhaps pretty Janice could get Laura out of her shell a bit.

He walked over without being asked, or denied permission and easily picked up Janice's heavy trunk. Now standing behind Janice, his smile softened and he winked at Laura.

Ms.Ezra Ms.Ezra Camleen Camleen
 

Ms.Ezra

Innkeeper of The Enchanted Suites
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous
Favorite Genres
Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Superhero, Horror, Slife-of-life.
Janice is bent over holding the handle of her trunk, grunting as she drags her trunk into the foyer when to her great surprise, what she thought at first to be a teacher comes up to help her. She peers up at Piotr, eyes wide and jaw a little slack. She hears him, but when she replies all that comes out at first is "You're like...really tall." When he lifts her trunk without effort, it elicits a "Whoa" from her. Then she remembers her manners and holds out her hand, her comparatively very small hand she realizes when Piotr shakes it.

"Sorry, I'm Janice....but ya can call me Jan. If-if ya like." She stutters slightly, adjusting the headphones around her neck more to nervously give her hands something to do, also reaching back to turn off her cassette Walkman. When she averts her eyes thinking she's looking at Piotr too long, she sees Laura at the door and smiles, waves at her "Hi! Are you new here too?"

Gands Gands Camleen Camleen
 

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)

How positively fascinating. Could I be bearing humble witness to the standard interpretation of Entanglement? Causality… Causality is a two-headed arrow, and the future might influence the past. The names ‘pon my list is present here in this very moment in time, at this very place in space. Ah, wonderful rhyme. Do, truly, they consider themselves the least popular amongst the young populace of this building? Another bit of causality… And mayhaps more evidence that good Charles was precisely correct in his sentiment. About what could become of these New Mutants.




Laura looks up, way up, towards Piotr as he hands off his sketchbook to her. She keeps herself halfway behind the front door of the mansion, clutching the sketchbook itself to her chest.

But when Janice looks towards Laura and waves, she would notice the slightly younger girl isn’t looking towards her. Instead, Laura’s gaze is upwards towards the ceiling. More specifically, the chandelier. And then a voice seems to suddenly come out of nowhere. “Ah, Laura has been here not even a year as yet. She is a ward here, though it is my sincere hope she would be wanting to join in some classes soon.” And were they to look upwards, they would see what (at first) appears to be a giant blue gorilla hanging upside down from the chandelier. Holding a book. He smiles widely down to them as he closes the book and tucks it under his arm, and his clawed toes release their grip of the chandelier. Hank McCoy does a flip as he falls, and lands with a thud upon his feet between Piotr and Laura. “Forgive me, young folks. It was not my intent to spy ‘pon any of you. I just… like reading upside down. And the light from that chandelier provides a most lovely ambience.” He looks over his shoulder and smiles to Laura, and she just averts her gaze from him. He strides towards Janice, patting Piotr on the shoulder. He speaks in… okay… Russian. He only started learning it a couple months ago, after all. But he has a very good understanding of it, and the dialect Piotr would be familiar with. “Piotr... eh... spasibo, synok. Ya rad, chto vas tak privetstvuyut nash novyy zhitel'!” He nods to Piotr as he smiles still widely, and then he turns his attention to Janice.

“Ah ha, lovely Ms. Kissel. We're delighted you received our message. I do hope the trip here was a pleasant one. And I hope your tenure with us will be even more pleasant. I am Henry McCoy, assistant to Professor Xavier. Who expresses his regrets on not meeting you upon your arrival himself. Running a school for special young adults such as all of you, well it is something of an assiduous role. Which is why he has asked a handsome and charming fellow such as myself to aid in this.” He holds his hand out to shake hers in greeting, speaking once more. “Welcome, welcome.” He then looks over his shoulder towards Laura, and he lowers himself into a crouch, his hands draped over his knees, his book (Cat’s Cradle, it says on the cover) held in his hand. “Dearest Laura, would you please do me a grand favor and navigate this young lady to her new room? To your shared space? There could possibly be vanilla bean in your future as compensation.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Laura, and she narrows her eyes at him. She looks from Beast to Janice to Piotr, and then back to Beast.

Hank looks back towards Janice from his crouched position, a position he seems perfectly comfortable in. “She would lead you on high to your shared room. I’m afraid at this time we’ve 2 to a room. A plight we are steadfastly working on.” Now he pushes himself to his feet, having to look up just slightly to Piotr (being 5’11” himself). “Piotr, please continue your abundantly appropriate role of welcome wagon and heavy lifting? I would be ever so grateful, son.” He says as he pats Piotr on the arm.

Beast’s blue eyes then draw back to Janice as he smiles warmly, his tone just as warm. “Welcome to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. A place I truly hope you come to find a second home within.” He then bows a little, and he turns from them. He starts to walk away, opening his book once more and humming ‘Don’t worry, be happy’ to himself.

Laura seems to be in the middle of trying to decide whether or not to lead Janice to their room. On the one hand… well there is possibly a bowl of ice cream in it for her. On the other hand… her room will no longer be her room. It’ll be their room. A prospect she is none too happy about. But she was told to do as McCoy and Xavier asked, and so she will. She clutches Piotr’s sketchbook to her chest, and with her gaze cast down she strides towards the stairs, glancing over her shoulder towards them to ensure they are following. And at the top of the stairs she takes a sharp left, and they walk through a hall with a door on their right. And inside of that open door they see a small kitchen. She takes another turn up ahead, and now they walk down a hall lined with doors on either side of it. A total of 4 doors on each side of the hallway, in fact. She walks to the second door on the right, and kind of pushes it open with her foot. The room within is fairly immaculate, looking as if it were just cleaned by some professional staff. But there are no personal mementos or personal effects. Just a pair of beds (on opposite sides of the room), a big window and a couple of desks. The room seems to be mirrored on the left and right, the same setup on both sides of the room. Laura walks quickly into the room, and she hops up onto the bed on the right. She turns and sits on it on her knees, staring at Janice and Piotr… as if warning them that this is her bed. She sets the sketchbook on the bed itself, staring at Janice to see what she does next…
 

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
As Colt attempts to break himself free of the fireproof foam, he would receive a visitor. Though he doesn’t know it yet. Nor does he know the identity of said visitor. Or even how this visitor knew where he was, and why. One of the officers that booked Colt in returns a few minutes later, his keys in hand. Without a word or even looking towards Colt, he unlocks his cell door. He leaves the keys in the lock, and then he walks away without uttering a syllable. Out of sight from Colt, he would hear a calmed voice from down the hallway. “Thank you, officer Morrison. I will let you know when I am ready to depart, sir.” Another door is heard being closed as the officer walks from the cell block… and Colt finds himself alone. Well not alone, but alone with his visitor. He would hear a soft squeaking noise coming from around that corner, and a moment later he would see a man in a wheelchair moving towards his cell door. “Mr. Walker, good evening.” He says in a soft, calmed tone. And Colt might notice a small backpack affixed to the handles of his wheelchair.

He stops just inside of the door, his hands now folded on his lap as he watches Colt. “My name is Professor Charles Xavier… and I’m here to help you, if you’d allow it. Can you tell me precisely what happened today.” He doesn’t say much at first, instead he uses this time to gauge the young man’s reactions, his temperament. And he keeps himself kind of in the doorway, his wheelchair blocking it. Ya know, just in case he tried to bolt.

Tagging: @KC
 

alint

Edgenoble
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
9pm to 12.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Jo just got off the train and was standing in the crowded station. She wasn't sure what to do next since she was told she'd be picked up from there. Since she was in public with a lot of people, Jo opted to use her white cane which helped identify her as blind to the public. While most of the public wouldn't know better, Jo had a feeling there were some who questioned her blindness. Not only could she avoid people as they approached her, but she was able to navigate the space easily despite it being her first time outside of the States. Jo was rather tired after the long train ride, but there was an electric shiver that coursed through her body. She was excited to finally meet more people like herself and to learn more about what she could do.

Just a few months ago, Jo was living in NYC with her mother and uncle working on cars and making a simple living. Her powers were something kept under raps, but that didn't stop her from helping around the shop and occasionally working on the cars and motorcycles that came in for repairs. Uncle Tommy didn't really care if she helped with repairs as long as she kept the doors locked and didn't break anything. For the most part, Jo was just as skilled at repairs than Uncle Tommy due to her ability to see within the machine to find the broken parts. Her powers allowed her to carefully take pieces out to replace them despite their size or location. Everything was good and well until Jo started hearing more about the mutant epidemic. Jo knew that staying hidden wasn't the best idea specifically because more and more people were getting agitated and skeptical. The decision to seek out a new home was hers. Jo wanted a place to belong to where she didn't have to hide, but also where she could be with people like her and share similar experiences. That's when she heard about Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Now, Jo was just wondering if she made the right decision. Dressed in a simple pair of jeans, a grey-green t-shirt, and a black sweat jacket, Jo waited for someone to approach her. Nervously, Jo ran her fingers through her short hair and allowed the soft mess to fall back against her forehead. Jo traveled light, it was something her mother taught her at a young age as well as how to pick pocket people and hide food. While Jo never found the need to use such skills, she knew that having them were useful, especially in this world.

Jo wondered how exactly they would know who she was, but something told her that the ones picking her up would know. Leaning against a square support beam, Jo waited for someone to find her. The rest of the train station was moving so fast. People were rushing past, but at least with her cane many kept their distance. As she waited, Jo closed her dull grey eyes and felt the movement of the magnetic fields as they warped around the space. There was something almost soothing about the hum of the engines and the warping of magnetic fields.

Tagging: Camleen Camleen
 
Last edited:

Gands

Edgeknight
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
A Few Posts A Day
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
both
Favorite Genres
sci fi, modern magical, horror
Piotr

Piotr is not particularly surprised by Professor, doctor McCoy. He has, in his few weeks here determined that McCoy is in fact quite charming and possessed of an incredible intellect. McCoy had learned an incredible amount of Russian in the few weeks since his arrival. The good doctor just told him that he was happy that Piotr was so welcoming. Which frankly he owed to the little ghost.

" Da Professor, pleasure is mine "

She however was at least co-operating, however reluctant she probably was. Probably McCoy's charm and the promise of ice Cream.The new girl was also charming. She was in fact... quite pretty too. He dispelled these thoughts for now, switching to curiosity about her trunk. It was too heavy for just clothing.

He found himself in the girls wing, foreign territory... He slowly entered the room. It was unsurprisingly very Spartan. Slowly and carefully he set the trunk down.

" Girls, I think I should go for now, Miss Kissel, Laura knows a lot about school. She is very smart. Miss Laura, will you bring me my sketch book later please ?"

He backs up a step and bows to the two girls like his grandfather taught him. For that tiny moment, he thought of his close knit family...and how lonely it was in this crowded school.

" I see you later girls."

Camleen Camleen Ms.Ezra Ms.Ezra
 
K

KC

Guest
Colt had managed to wipe almost all of the fire retardant foam from his pants with the rest of the jumper and had tossed it into a heap on the other side of the room. Time passed awfully slow as he sat in the cell but Colt had made a promise to himself to get out one way or another and so set about the task of getting strength in his ability back. He had managed to create flame again once he had discarded his jumper, leaving his torso naked. His body heat had never been considered normal and now that he wasn’t covered in the foam it had returned to the high temperatures it often hovered upon. His palm held a small ball of flame, his fingers manipulating the surround, almost caressing the fire that flickered there. He had always been fascinated at the way fire responded to him, the way he could ignite it with such ease and ask it to perform in ways which were so destructive and yet so beautiful.

He had no cause to wait for someone to come and so when footsteps neared the cell he jumped and stood up from the wall opposite the cell door. He pulled his hand which manipulated the ball of flames behind his back with the assumption that he was being taken somewhere. Even if he did move, he wasn’t about to go anywhere or with anyone quietly. Colt readied himself for a confrontation, although to his surprise the officer acted as though he was not there. What the hell? Colt had thought as the officer walked away from the door, leaving the door unlocked and the keys there.

“Hey!” Colt called out as the officer ignored him and he frowned as he snuffed out the flame and dropped his hand. He was smart enough to know something was up, no cop was that stupid surely?

About to take advantage of the situation, Colt walked over and grabbed his jumper from the ground, though before he could get to the door he heard the subtle and smooth tone of another man’s voice, mature sounding and polite. He had stopped as his mind worked over the voice, and soon with a high pitched squeaking the owner of that voice came into view. Colt raised a brow as he took a step back to consider the view before him, some old dude in a wheelchair who had wheeled right into the doorway of the cell and postured in such a way that Colt couldn’t sense an inch of threat from the man. Shit he thought, not like he will do much anyway.

As Colt stood silent and searched over the man with amber eyes, the Professor introduced himself and addressed Colt as ‘Mr Walker’. It prompted a chuckle from Colt who had raised the corner of his lips at the Professor and folded his arms. No one he had ever known spoke like that let alone had afforded Colt the pleasures of greeting him with a title. The Professor continued to tell him he was there to help him as Colt looked him up and down.

“Really? What makes you think you can help me,” Colt replied as his brow knitted together slightly. The man’s name had rung a bell in his mind but why and where Colt could not be entirely sure.

“You’re some old crony in a wheelchair, if you want to help me then why don’t you go post bail or something instead of blocking up the doorway. Pretty sure if you just moved I could leave and that would help my situation a greater deal than shitty conversation about why I got harassed trying to find something to eat.” Colt told the professor abruptly. He had long been over broken promises and people from those weekend volunteer organizations trying to convince him how to find faith in some religion or engage in games that would somehow equate to making his life ‘happy’ and ‘normal.’
-----------------
Thought
Speech
-----------------
Camleen Camleen
 

Ms.Ezra

Innkeeper of The Enchanted Suites
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Androgynous
Favorite Genres
Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Superhero, Horror, Slife-of-life.
Janice looks up when she realizes Laura is looking up, and is very surprised to see a hairy blue man literally hanging out up there, emitting a small squeak of surprise when he drops down. When Mr. McCoy calls her 'Lovely Ms. Kissel' she blushes and looks down and away slightly; at the revelation she'll be rooming with Laura, Janice looks at the other girl again and smiles.

"Thank you everyone, I um really like it already, everything's so...big it's just a little overwhelming. Small town living does that." She says after McCoy has said all he wanted and just before he leaves. On the way to the room, Janice walks behind both of the other students taking everything in; she also feels more electricity in one place than she's felt in one place. It's all through the walls and floors. Far more than most places needed in her (admittedly limited) experience, and she wonders what it's all for. When she touches the wall just as they enter the girl's dorms, she reaches out with her ability and asks the system "What are you doing?" but of course only a telepath or someone with a similar ability could hear her. All the other two would see is Janice being more concentrated. The response from the system is that it is a high grade security system. Janice takes her hand away when they proceed to her room, making a mental note to explore the system further. Out of sheer curiosity, of course.

Janice steps into the dorm room, flops onto the other bed, and waves after Piotr, saying "Thank you very much ummm Peter!" She asks, getting his name partially wrong, having never heard or spoken Russion before. She then gives her attention to Laura.

"So we're roommates? I hope I don't like, annoy you too much...see I'm an only child, never really had to share a room before. Do you have brothers? Sisters?" She asks, having heard of course earlier that she was a 'ward' here, but just wanted to make conversation. Meanwhile, she gets down on the floor, pops open her trunk and starts to unpack. The first things to come out are smaller metal boxes she sets on her desk. The larger is marked 'Soldering Stuff' and the other 'Scrap Electronics'. Next was what appeared to be a toaster but on closer examination could not function as such. Next was a small electronic keyboard. These were put on the desk as well. The rest of the trunk was half filled with her wardrobe ; the other half taken up by issues of Popular Mechanics; song books for piano; a handful of NES games; her collection of cassette tapes, and technical manuals for various devices. All visibly worn from multiple readings.

Camleen Camleen
 
Last edited:

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
Colt asks how Charles can help… and not in a sincerely curious sort of tone. More like a dismissive angsty tone. Understandably so. His expression remains unchanged as Colt goes on, his eyes seeming to study Colt’s amber eyes. “Well I can’t argue with being an old crony in a wheelchair.” His hands now move to the sides of his wheelchair, his hands gripping the rubberized wheels. He pushes himself into the cell a little more, his gaze not moving from Colt’s.

“If you were to leave this cell on your own… just where would you go, Mr. Walker? You’ve been living on the streets for far too long. You got caught shoplifting… only because you were hungry.” He now looks around the cell a little, noting the residue of fire retardant foam left upon the floor. He draws in a slow and deep breath, and now sits up a little in his chair as his gaze returns to Colt.

“I actually think I can help you, Mr. Walker. If you would allow it. Maybe it’s time for you to go into a new direction with your life.” His tone now gets noticeably more compassionate, as if he were trying to help an old friend. “Being shuffled from foster home to foster home. After that night, when that awful fire erupted in your parents’ home… you’ve never been able to find peace. Your grandparents didn’t want to take responsibility for you. They blamed you, in some part, for what happened to your parents. But they didn’t know the whole truth, did they?” He draws in another slow breath before he speaks. “And so you were taken to a foster family. And they didn’t have the resources to handle someone like you. You were moved again. And again. Your foster father abused you, son. I know why you ran, I know why you’ve been living on the streets. You have nowhere else to go.” He pauses a moment. “I know what it can be like, Mr. Walker. To be looked upon with suspicion. I’ve always felt that people do the awful things they do… because they are afraid. And they were all afraid of you, weren’t they?”


Tagging:
@KC
 

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
Suspiciously she watches Janice as she seems to settle quickly into her… into their… room. She looks out of the corner of her eyes to Piotr as he addresses her, and she looks down to the sketchbook. She isn’t sure why he doesn’t want it back right now… he is a strange, tall one.

Slowly then Laura looks towards Janice as now she slides onto the floor and pops open her very large trunk. Laura could probably comfortably live in that thing. She sits up a little on her knees, her neck craning slightly as if to try and get a better look inside of the trunk. She just shakes her head in silent response to Janice’s question of brothers or sisters. No, she has neither brother nor sister. Nor mother. Nor father.

Her eyes would follow the path of the metal boxes she sets on the desk, her eyes narrowing a little at them. With each new item that emerges from that vast expanse of a trunk, her eyes carefully stare at it. She wants to pretend she doesn’t care about any of her things. But she knows that the things in that trunk, well that’s more property than Laura has ever owned in her whole life. Battlesuits don’t count as personal property. More of a work expense. So, in an attempt to pretend she doesn’t care about Janice or her awesome magic trunk, she starts to flip through Piotr’s sketchbook idly. But as she does… for some reason she finds herself mildly surprised with his sketches. Professor Xavier in his study, Mr. McCoy hanging from that chandelier reading (a common practice apparently), Ororo in a classroom… Logan (that one she quickly flips passed), and then she comes to the sketch of herself that Piotr had started earlier. She stares at the ¾ profile of her own face, and just above the sketch Piotr had written ‘Little ghost’. She can’t deny Piotr is… really really good with his sketching. But she thinks he needs to find a better subject.

And then she can’t stand it any longer.

So, after a few minutes, she finally lets the sketchbook fall to the floor in front of her bed. The sketch of herself open, and she slides off of her bed. She creeps closer towards Janice’s trunk, her head tilted up a little as she breathes in deeply through her nose. She crouches down next to the trunk, and without asking any sort of permission she reaches into it and starts touching everything. She picks up a few cassettes, reads them, and then drops them back into the trunk. She doesn’t seem overly concerned with the artists represented on the cassettes. Just the cassettes themselves. She sifts through the songbooks and manuals, again seeming more interested in the fact they are there, not what they may contain in regards to subject.

She then looks towards her desk, and she pushes herself to her feet. She moves the boxes on her desk a little, as if judging the weight of each one. She picks up the toaster, shaking it a little and looking into it (as one might look into a pair of binoculars). But as she holds it up… she then looks towards the keyboard. She sets the toaster down (her eyes not leaving the keyboard), and she then turns her full attention to it. She starts pressing the keys… one at a time at first. She then starts to press 2 keys at a time, until her whole hand is pressing keys repeatedly.
 
K

KC

Guest
There was the automatic expectation that the Professor would either wheel aside or reply with some sort of backlash at Colt’s snappy remarks but the same calm and smooth tone exited the man’s mouth as though water off a ducks back. In addition the man wheeled further into the cell as he held eye contact with Colt and suddenly the teen would find himself questioning who the hell Professor Charles Xavier was indeed. Colt felt disarmed by the calm tone of voice, unprepared for a touch of understanding which seemed most foreign. Perhaps it was the sheer way in which Professor Xavier seemed to show no anger nor fear at all. But the statements that followed were a different type of hurt to Colt. They were reality, the same kind of logic he had often found himself wondering in times of silence when he was left to his own devices and it hurt a hell of a lot more than a broken bone. Colt’s back stiffened as the professor laid out the obvious to him in having nowhere to go and as he broke eye contact with Colt to look at the residue it was Colt who seemed to be more afraid and angry. He took a step back as he felt a lump rise towards his throat and with all strength within him pushed it back down. Just some guy he had thought, some guy who doesn’t know shit.

The professor continued, his tone still smooth and soothing as he began to real off Colt’s life milestones like he had studied him for hours. The first and perhaps the most triggering of thoughts being the death of his parents which he had always blamed himself for and promised to continue to do so until the day he was placed six foot below. He wrestled the lump in his throat down as he wrought his hands uncomfortably; his eyes lowering away from the Professor as his mind questioned the motif of the Professor among the pain lashing memories. The odd feeling that was twisted through him was confusion, why did this guy seem to simply explain and not blame him too? He claimed he understand but how? What Professor Xavier said was plain and true, he had always felt angry at the fear he could see in someone’s eyes. He had grown cold to it these days, treating those who had lashed out at him like the animals he saw them to be, just like cattle to be herded. It was easier that way and when he lost control it was much easier to explain away all of the emotions that brew underneath.

...shut up… Colt murmured although his tone was far different from the cocky and arrogant one he had confronted the man with. Colt was strong but underneath the exterior he was a broken child and there was little he knew on how to put the thousands of pieces back together. He had continued to manipulate his fingers, though as he grew intensely confused his body temperature had risen, his eyes seeming to brighten as small flames kindled across his fingertips. It had long been his defense, his safety net. There was some part of him that completely agreed with everything the professor had spouted and that scared him more; no one had ever agreed with Colt.

He had shaken his head as he wrestled with his thoughts before he managed to raise his voice a little stronger.

How do you think you can help me? I’m dangerous, they are always afraid…you should be afraid.” Colt looked back up at the professor, his lips tightening as he swallowed and stared at the man, expecting an answer from him although highly cynical.
-----------------
Thought
Speech
-----------------
Camleen Camleen
 

Eon

Third Rate Duelist With a Fourth Rate Deck
Roleplay Invitations
Group Roleplays, One on One Roleplays, Chat Roleplays, Private Convo Roleplays
Posting Speed
Several Posts a Day, One Post a Day
My Usual Online Time
What is time? How can time be real, if our eyes aren't real?
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Genders You Prefer Playing
Male, Female, Transgender, Futanari, Androgynous, Primarily Prefer Male
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depends on the situation, I guess.
Favorite Genres
I can't say. It's like picking a favorite child.
Genre You DON'T Like
Never liked role plays that were set in the real-world or an equivalent. I live in our world already, I don't need to live it twice.
The beaten soles of comfortable old shoes thudded against the cool, cold concrete of the train station. A simple grey coat had been thrown over a sweatervest, dress shirt, and tie, making Ryan sharply dressed. A more observant person might notice that, despite the effort he had clearly put into his appearance, his socks didn't quite match.

His friendly demeanor and trustworthy face made him a frequent pick for this job, meeting new students and ensuring their safe arrival to the school. It wasn't dangerous work, though sometimes potential students would find themselves nervous and confused upon arriving in a new place, especially if they came from somewhere far away. Again, Ryan's ability made him an easy shoe-in, allowing him to protect any bystanders and reduce collateral damage, but he didn't like to think of it that way. Today, he'd been chosen to meet with a young woman by the name of Josephine Roche, with powers over electromagnetism. The professor had provided Ryan with a mental image of her appearance, picked up from his powers, using a machine in one of the more serious rooms underneath the school. Ryan usually tried to stay away from the cold, medical whites of that section of the manor, preferring the more rustic areas of the above-ground school.

Looking around the platform, he started to wave when he spotted his student, but stopped himself, remembering she was blind at the sight of the thin white cane. "Miss Roche!" He called out, making his way through the crowd, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "I'm supposed to give you a ride over to the school," he explained, glancing around and giving her a once-over to make sure he had the right person. "Do you have any luggage? I'd be happy to carry any suitcases you brought with you," he offered, his voice firmly marking him as American. He was polite, wanting nothing more than to come off across as reassuring and trustworthy to a potential student.

That was his job, after all. While he did teach a psychology class to those students of the school who were interested, his main role was that of a councilor/on-site therapist. The professor didn't always have the time go go through the mind of every student that walked through the Xavier Institute's doors, which was where he came in, helping the young, less experienced mutants overcome any psychological trauma or barriers that had effected them or their powers. While he'd also occasionally teach biology when Hank McCoy was indisposed, either due to sickness, injury, or being off on some long-term mission with the other X-Men.
 
Last edited:

Camleen

I'm going to be my own kind of princess
Original poster
Posting Speed
One Post a Day, A Few Posts a Week, One Post a Week
Writing Levels
Intermediate
Genders You Prefer Playing
No Preferences
Playing Style- Passive or Aggressive
Depending on the RP, I can be either. But most of the time I'm passive. I'll help you direct traffic, but I don't like to be in charge usually.
Favorite Genres
In no particular order: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Modern, Magical, Romance, anime, comic books, cartoons, video games..
Genre You DON'T Like
Yaoi, furry, horror/gore (there are very few exceptions there)
Professor Charles Xavier

He didn’t like dredging up the boy’s memories like that… but sometimes a wound has to be exposed before it can begin to properly heal. And… it gets Colt’s attention. People like Colt, once they get a certain perception of a select few… well that perception fades onto other people they encounter. Colt thinking that Charles can’t or won’t help him, that he’s just some guy who is only out for himself. Not genuinely care for Colt’s well-being. But… well he does seem to have his attention now.

He squints just slightly as doubts rage through Colt’s mind, as his defenses are shattered to dust. His eyes move towards Colt’s hand as his power now activates. Like so many others, Colt’s power acts as an emotional defense mechanism. It’s common for a mutant’s abilities to awaken at times of great emotional stress. And often times it manifests itself at similar times. And now Colt is starting to feel great emotional stress.

“Colt…” he says as his hands once more move to the wheels of his chair, and he moves closer to Colt. “Of course I should be afraid. Fire is, after all, the great equalizer of nature. Every creature in nature fears fire, being consumed by flames. I am afraid of the fire… but I don’t think you will allow it to harm me. You are not the fire you produce. You can control it, son.”

He now falls silent as he stares up at Colt, now just a few feet in front of him. And it’s about then that Colt would hear Charles’ voice in his mind… a gentle whispering echo of a voice. ~As people fear your fire… they fear what my gift is capable of.~ The soft voice in his mind trails off, and now he speaks aloud as he watches Colt. “If you would be so kind as to extinguish your flames… I would truly appreciate it, my friend.” He says in almost a chuckling tone. As if wanting to relieve some tension held in the air. He pauses as he smiles softly to Colt. “I run a school… a school for gifted young people, like yourself. People your age… many of whom have seen the same sort of things you have, Colt. Many have been running for years, out of pure and utter fear. Fear of what they are capable of, of the harm they could do others. Fear of those that know of their gifts… fear of what those people could do to them.” He pauses once more, his tone utterly sincere and compassionate.

“A safe place, Colt. One where you need not worry of being feared or hated for what you were born as. A place to belong, I hope. If you wish to accompany me… I can take you to a place you can perhaps someday call home, son.”



Tagging:
@KC
 
Last edited:
K

KC

Guest
As the professor wheeled forward an audible squeak from the chair resounded in the hollow of the cell and Colt’s breath quickened as he looked around briefly. He sure as hell didn’t want to be in this place and though the professor was still regarded as some stranger, the opportunity to leave was greater outweighing the second option of remaining and having to come up with his own escape plan. The more the professor spoke, the more Colt knew he made complete sense and in some ways it infuriated him. He still had plenty of questions to ask, how the hell the guy had known he was here to begin with being the top of his list and why the professor was claiming to want to help him. Colt always looked to the motive behind the promise because in his eyes promises were always broken and the underlying intention always bit him on the arse. Professor Xavier told him he didn’t think he would allow the fire to harm him though Colt in perhaps habitual temptation was about to make the professor regret the comment he had just made.

As he had molded the flame into a sizeable fireball in his palm, the Professor continued to speak. Only it was a second before Colt realized the man’s mouth was no longer moving. He could hear his voice but all he could see was the stoic expression on Professor Xavier’s face as Colt reeled back into the wall behind him, not having noticed just how much he had stepped back during their conversation. The flame left his palm, though it struck across the floor between them as Colt’s widened eyes glistened. How the hell?

It had become immediately clearer as to why the professor was much on Colt’s side, he was a mutant himself, a freak as Colt was well accustomed to hearing. He had never had much of an interaction with another mutant, perhaps the closest being someone who had dressed as one for Halloween one year. Small flames still danced along his hands before he took note of the request and tried to smother them, no visible sign of discomfort as he clenched his hands into fists and released them again, the flames snuffed out. He had felt his knees weaken somewhat and used the wall to hold himself as the Professor described the ‘school’ and the type of children he had taken in as students, always calm and always saying the kind of thing Colt could relate to. God knows he was tired, no exhausted of running, of people in general. But the idea of school made him feel sick.

“I don’t do school…Haven’t been and don’t want to go, besides it’s a waste of time.” Colt replied though he had calmed significantly, wondering what it was like. Were there normal people? And could he ever call a place his home? Screw that he had thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he considered what the professor had claimed and though not sold on the idea of a school he was definitely opportunistic.


“So…can we get something to eat?”

-----------------
Thought
Speech
-----------------
Camleen Camleen