→ there's an old voice in my head that's holding me back

[mentis]

Who: Charles Xavier & River Tam.
What: Getting to know one another.
When: Day 50 ( morning )
Where: House 8
Warnings: Conversations that might consist entirely of telepathic thought?

Charles feels her coming before she's at the door, has it open by the time she reaches him. He's still dressed in clothes too big for him but he's foregone the uniform boots so River might have to deal with him padding around in his socks. His other hand is holding a book - left over by the previous occupiers but he assumes as he's wearing the clothes they left and sleeping in their beds they won't mind - with his thumb holding his place. The smile he gives her is wide and bright though, as welcoming as the house feels. Because of course the house has this aura about it now, couldn't not with Charles Xavier: Champion of the People living inside it.

"Hello, River."

He seems happy, energised even as he aside to let her in, "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

It might not be but then again, he's British.

Comments

[enchangement]

River came on purpose this morning, as opposed to the various moments she's merely passed the building either physically or telepathically, reaching out to assure herself it exists and all is well within it's walls; her arms are full with a medium-sized box stuffed with rations she managed to procure from the town hall in twenty words or less, books from her visit to the library with Conrad, plus a dress or two she'd gotten from Sharon that turned out to be too long for her but might fit Raven otherwise. This is usefulness, the single-most important task River has assigned herself.

Still. "Quiet morning." Bare feet carry her past the doorway, angling so as to not unexpectedly bump into anything with the box. "My voice is tired."

My because River is less of a concept and more of a consciousness this particular morning. That is how it works for her sometimes - the days when she can talk, when she can express the secrets of the universe or just the secrets of the person who happens t be in front of her also tend to be the days when she cannot define who she is herself and is left only with a jigsaw puzzle of associations and memories, letting any and everything else fill the gaps. The days where she would rather not speak at all, the days she is quiet and manageable but hidden are the days she's coming to terms with everything else, everything she is and everything she's said and everything she's done.

Yesterday was spent in near silence, moving forgotten items out of the attic of house seventeen and building from the schematics that Ivy provided her. Today she'd rather not be alone, but around people - the thing is, being silent around people who care about her might just make them worry more. Unless, of course, they understand.

Charles will understand. Thus, River has come over.

[mentis]

"Ah."

He raises his eyebrow as though to ask whether or not he should take the box, locking up behind her. "Well, we don't have to talk out loud, my dear. Not if you don't want to."

Because he understands both the pros and cons of getting lost inside a person's own head. He has Erik right now - he has the constant buzz of him inside his head like an electric generator. But there have been times where he blurs the lines; days where he's disappeared and nights stumbled home with other people buried deep inside his head.

"I still have some mint left over, I'll put the tea on. You could do with some it seems."

[enchangement]

River gives one of her relieved little smiles and nods. Might need the practice. Do I think too loudly or too quietly or too much like the string quartet drowning amongst the choir? She knows she can be overwhelming to her self, not to mention anyone else.

To Charles' unasked question River simply continues to grasp the box as she follows him towards the kitchen. Once there, she sets it down on the table, neatly stacking a container of ground coffee and a box of various tea blends near Charles' elbow with a smile. The parent plant to his mint tea is, currently, the only plant in the hydroponics attic that has gotten past the seedling stage as it was the only plant River could manage to identify on her own.

I like Raven. She said I can be a mutant. She also seemed very unhappy about being one herself, but River is sure that Charles is aware of that.

[mentis]

You found tea. His delight comes along with his words, lifting the box to examine it. Fingers drift along the coffee jar too. And Erik is going to be quite pleased. I can feel his withdrawals from here.

He actually finds this quite appealing, speaking out loud with his thoughts and not with his mouth. Between Erik and River he can feel his power stretching like an unused limb, feeling returning to him like life. You're not too loud for me, River. I can follow you quite clearly.

He boils water slowly, turning back to her. You can be whatever you want. I'm glad that Raven has been speaking to you, she needs friends and I would certainly enjoy the pair of you becoming ... pals.

[enchangement]

I want to be...a functioning cog in the machine I've chosen. River doesn't always feel like she functions...or she doesn't feel like she functions well, anyway. Mutant is a good name, a good label. Necessary for evolution. A part instead of standing alone to die out eventually.

She hops up onto the kitchen table, letting her legs hang over the edge and swing freely. Pals. She giggles. Real friends like a real girl. She's so pretty though. You have to tell her! Don't be a boob.

[mentis]

Mutation brought us from single celled organisms, I think it's a good word for what we are.

He stresses the word we even in his thoughts because he feels like River needs it. He used to be like that - before Raven, before she stumbled into his life and gave him a purpose. With a startled laugh continues, mostly because he is in fact Charles Xavier, avoider of issues.

I'm sorry, did you just call me a boob?

[enchangement]

Yes. BOOB. She sticks her tongue out at Charles. Head full of cloud fluff. You're a good brother. River has opinions about older brothers and little sisters and avoiding things.

However River might not allow him to avoid this for long. Who choses to define risk and safety? Tilting her head at Charles slightly. Her pal finds herself concerned.

[mentis]

Pouring a cup of tea for her. It'll have to be black but still that's much better than no tea at all. Handing it over with a small smile.

I try to be. Curling his hands around his own mug, Charles leans against the counter, his sigh more audible in his head than out. When Raven and I met she was terrified, it ran off her in waves. I was too young to really understand the emotion, you see but I figured it out pretty quickly. People had shunned her, I vowed to do everything I could to protect her from that.

Blowing over the top of his drink. You must think I'm a terrible coward.

[enchangement]

River pulls her legs up from the edge of the table, folding them under herself as she cups her hand around the steaming mug and watches the various oils from the tea float to the liquid's surface. To love something is to fear losing it. The question: not was Charles afraid. It is will Charles still be afraid?

She wrinkles her nose slightly and takes a sip. Better that you had her than not. Or he could've ended up like...well like Ned. Emotionally isolated to a terrifying degree. Perfection is impossible in anything that ever hopes to evolve.

So this is advice hour with River Tam, apparently.

[mentis]

I'm not asking Raven to be perfect, heaven forbid.

Sipping his tea, frowning into the depths. Nobody is. I know that better than most. I'm just ... being a big brother, I suppose. The same way she will continue to be a little sister in everything she does.

[enchangement]

River watches the point manage to neatly sail right over Charles' head in a silent whoosh before hiding her smile behind her teacup. Oh, older brothers. So amusing. So older-brother-ish.

Not her perfection, yours! The perfect guardian, the perfect ruse. 'The perfect son' she won't say, having no room to approach issues regarding his mother.

The difference between caution and fear is the hesitance in Ivy's tone and the moment Raven's eyes went wide when I say what I know. Taking another sip. As a little sister, I say, better cautious than afraid. Better plotting than panicked.

[mentis]

Well I know I'm not perfect either.

Charles' thoughts are clouded with a level of confusion that stains each syllable. I know you mean well, River. I appreciate all your input, I do. But Raven's mutation is unique and people are often afraid of something they can't understand. What if I wasn't there? She's just a girl.

[enchangement]

River gives a quiet little sigh and reaches from the table to pat Charles on the arm. Teach her what to do if you aren't there. Because you won't be, eventually. Something will happen. She'll get scared or someone else will know what they're doing and all will be lost at sea. A brother's job is to protect. Protecting doesn't always mean... River can't keep the words straight even in her head so Charles gets a bunch of associations that essentially boil down to the fact that a bird kept in a cage for it's own safety may not be able to properly fly away if necessary.

Not saying change everything in just this moment. Another sip of tea. I could teach her to fight.

[mentis]

I refuse to let that happen, River. There will not be a day where I am not there for her.

It's the foolish hope of an older brother coupled with the savior complex for an entire species. It feels absolute.

He takes another sip of his tea, tries to shrug off Erik's headache again. It's been plaguing him for nearly as long as the other man has had it. Withdrawal is a bitch and he knows that he craves other things though if he found out Charles was considering bargaining for his cigarettes there might be an argument to outlive all others.

With a low note of a hum, We were training before we came here. It might do well for you to talk to Erik, he could possibly have his own ideas.

[enchangement]

If River rolled her eyes any harder she might just strain something. As it is she sort of mentally shakes her head instead and finishes off her tea. Men plan and God laughs.

Yes.

Would you want to learn? Not to fight, but to defend?

[mentis]

There is a fine line between defense and offence.

The fact of the matter is Charles has such a tight control over himself, over his power that the idea of learning anymore is - frightening. He has agreed to help Erik in any way he can, knows he'll have to twist thoughts and ensnare people without a second thought because the people he cares about are in danger.

It doesn't make it any easier. But then I suppose in a place like this I must learn to do my bit.

[enchangement]

River sets her cup down on the table next to her and frowns at a fixed point in space. I know the line. She lives and breathes it from moment to moment, but his comment, his fear has her thinking about the potential that is buried deep within her. The assassin's key, the ignition and the breaks. Could Charles find that information, hidden in her head where even she can't manage to shake it loose?

Would he be willing to?

There's something to think about. Escaping and breaking from holds if you can't convince them to look the other way. It's on your side of the line. I can teach you that. To start.

[mentis]

Will it make you happy?

He seems genuinely curious. He can count on one hand the people who have been worried about him throughout his life. Raven is a constant but to have had to reach this level of year to find other people is something that is like a core to him.

I know it's something Erik might be pleased with. I'm not really a fighter. But being here is excuse enough.

[enchangement]

Well there's a question no one has directly asked River in heaven knows how long. It's never phrased quite like that - it's more couched in terms of 'want' or 'feel better' or 'think we should do'. So River laughs aloud, real and pealing and happy, so. Yes. That will make me happy.

She smiles and picks her cup up again. You know why? Why Erik would be pleased, she means. Why it would make her happy. You are all that is good.

[mentis]

He sweeps his gaze down, a blush almost threatening to peak. He can't help but be the most reactive when it comes to anything personal. So he smiles, drains his cup and looks at her with fondness.

Thank you, River. Your level of faith in my goodness is astounding.

[violenthearted]

At some point during Charles and River's exchange, Erik had appeared, spotted the coffee, and gone directly for it with eyes like <3__<3. He has had a pretty severe caffeine headache since his second day here (he doesn't eat or sleep like a normal person, and coffee helps stave off the ill-effects of that) so perhaps he can be pardoned for his total lack of manners.

Also, it's deeply strange being the only non-telepath in the room. Thus, he had taken his coffee to the porch, and could be found there on River's way out if she was looking to talk to the knight (that will never not be amazing, even in narrative) before she left.

[enchangement]

Does she ever not want to speak to the knight? River isn't on her way out, per se - left to her own devices she might stay in a drifting orbit around house eight until the sun goes down - but Charles is doing other things at the moment so River is fine with coming outside and sitting. Or talking. Eventually.

She knows that Erik needs more sleep in the same way that she knows she herself needs more sleep, the way she knows they all need fresher food and a way out. It's a fact but not the sort of fact she can shake until it does what is best for anyone. Problems without solutions are turning out to be very similar to enemies she can't get her hands on - frustrating in the extreme.

River sort of leans toward Erik until her head is more or less at his knee. She could tell him about the hydroponics, or her idea of stealing windows. She could ask if it ever gets easier - the lack of sleep and the constant state of vigilance, the desire to allow others to keep their bubbles of safety at the cost of blood on their own hands. She could, but he sort of knows these things, the way she sort of knows the answers to her questions, so.

Sitting, for now, is good.

[violenthearted]

The quiet suits Erik except for when it doesn't; sometimes it gets to him when he's left with nothing but the noise in his head. He wonders what it's like for Charles to exist on the periphery of that all the time, but then he doesn't wonder enough to do a complete overhaul of self, which is what it would take to change that, so: as the Bard says, those musings are nothing more than the children of an idle brain.

Erik despises being idle in any capacity; this surprises no one. It's being obliged to small talk he can't stand. Eventually though, he does move to speak, although he's minimal with his words, an inquiry that goes directly to the heart of the matter with the trajectory of a bullet: "Productive talk?"

Not was her chat with Charles good, or nice, or any of the other things another person talking just for the sake of it might ask. Was it productive.