thisavrou | video | welcome waggoned

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video | welcome waggoned

[A young woman appears on the screen, she’s pale, but the most striking feature about her would have to be the white streaks that frame her face, standing out in contrast from her otherwise brown hair. She gives a half-smile, and holds up a gloved hand in greeting.

When she speaks, her accent is a soft Southern, with a few New York quirks. She's lived there long enough to pick up a few vocal ticks.]

Hey, ya’ll. This is some nifty technology, ain't it? [Whew, ice broken.]

So I know some of everyone here happens to be from the same… worlds, I guess? Universe? So I just thought I’d ask… Does the letter X mean anything to you?

[She doesn’t want to come right out and announce to the whole place that she’s part of a group of mutants that sometimes go out and superhero. She doesn’t know what sort of people are here, what their prejudices might be. It’d be really stupid to come out and tell everyone she kills people when she touches them. That’d be a fast way to get herself airlocked, and she’d rather not experience that, thanks.

BUT if there are people here who are like her? She's not holding her breath for anyone she knows knows, but it'd be good to have a potential ally, should things go South.]

If it doesn't, no worries. I look forward to meeting ya'll. [There. She's putting herself out there. Logan would be so proud.]

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In a manner of speaking, I suppose, yes. [ The particulars of that can get messy, with who remembers what and when and how much. Even the concept of that train of thought is tiring. But if she means the Peter he knows, it's not entirely incorrect. Even if that very subject has been the subject of some contention in the past few months alone.

He shrugs with an amused smile. ] I'm finding that the concept of 1983 is either mired in historical fact now, or it's entirely foreign. And I'm assuming since we've now been introduced, that it's at least the former. So, when do I get the pleasure, Rogue? Right now aside, of course?

[ Right now is defined as that exact "foreign" component. It doesn't count. Not in the way he means it, anyway. ]

[Rogue's mental image of the 80s involves a whole lot of hairspray and blue eyeshadow, neither of which she expects the Professor to be using. Though, he does have hair right now...]

Around 2005 is when I show up. [In a manner of speaking. Technically, the X-Men came to her. After the Brotherhood.]

Really? [ He's so used to close enough in the future that people know everything he clearly should and doesn't, whatever's happened to Logan (he still hasn't figured that out), or not even remotely from the same Earth (or even the planet, for that matter), so time becomes immaterial.

Twenty years is quite the thing to consider. ] Do I want to ask what's happened to the school in twenty years?

[ ~~Clearly, since he just has.~~ But more importantly: ] And what is it you do, Rogue?

Really, [She promises him it easily.

She presses her lips together, considering. some bad things had gone down sure, but Rogue was always thankful for the fact that the Institute remained a safe haven.]

It's still there- you run a pretty full school. Got kids from all over the world.

[She grimaces at the inevitable question. It was usually the first thing mutants at the Institute shared about themselves. So many of them liked to show off. This, naturally, left Rogue at an awkward pass. She looks down at her gloved hands.] There isn't a good way to put it. But whenever I touch people- I absorb their life force, I guess is the best way to put it.

[ It's usually the first thing he asks, but this would not be the first time that question has been an uncomfortable one (though it is, at least, a far cry from announcing their presence to an unknowing room. He very much notices the grimace and the awkward shifts in posture, and notes even without the explanation that this one isn't an easy answer.

With the explanation, it's then that he notices with an acute fixation her clothing on top of that posture, and quickly puts them all together. He gives her a sympathetic glance and the next question isn't at all as hurried or excited. ]

I'm assuming that's involuntary?

[She's seen that look so many times. The pitying, realizing look. Wait until she told him the nitty gritty of it all, and that look would only strengthen.

She doesn't need that look, and she hates it, trying to physically shrug it off, as though that would help. But just like that, the look disappears, and Rogue finds herself nodding with a half-hearted smile.] Yeah.

We don't think there's ever going to be a way to control it... [But there was a cure. A cure that she could still get back home, when she got home.She could live the life she always wanted, free to be able to touch people. To touch her boyfriend. She couldn't imagine not taking it. She had to. she could just hear someone like Paulie Provenzano telling her, stop complaining, if you hate your power so much go get cured. Storm had told her there was nothing wrong with her. But Storm could control the weather.

Ever notice how it's the mutants with good powers and decent control and no physical mutation that are so against a cure? Rogue had.

She'd wanted to talk to the Professor about it, before his death. They'd never had the time, and back home, back home she'd all but made the decision.

But this wasn't a conversation for a public channel. It wasn't a conversation for someone that had just met her five minutes ago, either, even if she'd known him for years.]

[ Charles can only shake his head in adamant denial. He doesn't know better, of course, hasn't seen this or the years of trying. For him, as there is in a great many things there perhaps ought not to be, still hope in this. ] Everything can be controlled. Just...from experience, Rogue, whatever that's worth, don't take that too far.

[ He's been here. Right here. He knows this desperation, though his once insular seclusion had been through less literal means, and that pain he cannot imagine, but he can empathize. ]

[Her eyes flash a much darker green for a moment. How dare he- how dare he say that when he'd been the one to tell her just the opposite. There was a reason she'd said we.

No, she reminded herself. This was a younger Professor. One that hadn't sat with her and worked with her for hours and hours, through a frustrating amount of tea and tears alike.

So she presses her lips together and swallows the bitterness. It's a rarity for Rogue to be so considerate, but she respected this man too much to go off on him. She needed an ally here. And maybe a younger Professor would think of something his elder self hadn't.]

You said the same thing when we first met. [Well, something to that effect, anyway. He'd greeted her when she'd stepped off the plane, wrapped in a blanket and eating the granola bar Mr. Summers had stashed away for emergencies. He'd explained who he was, what they did, as she was sure was custom. But he'd made her feel normal for the first time in a long time. Subsequently, the smile that tugs just lightly on one corner of her lips is a fond one.]

You're welcome to give it a shot. Not like trying is going to hurt.

[If she got control, then her problems were solved. Then she could stay at the school, stay an X-Man, and maybe be of some use- a few students had taken to calling her Magickarp lately, it would be pretty great to come back evolved into Gyrados.

And maybe she could have some semblance of a normal life.]

Professed by a wiser man than myself, I'm sure.

[ It is a strange thing to be remembered as so much older, so much more competent than he is now, and yet flounder so completely. He has a fleeting thought, one brought on by a movie Jean had dragged him to a few years ago: there is no try.

He isn't sure how much he believes that, when every effort, he still believes, is worth making. It's pushed back away as soon as it occurs. ]

But whatever can be done, Rogue, I shall give you my utmost.

[ And maybe that will not be good enough. It never feels like enough. But determining this problem unsolvable before he's attempted it? It's not just a failure, it's a slap in the face (an offense not menat to any student, whether he's just met them or not. ]

Still the same man, though, right? [She's got so much baggage that she's bringing into their relationship with regards to the Professor. She knew his older self, knew that he had died. That wasn't hers to tell him, though.

Not yet, anyway.

But he wants to try, so she'll let him try. Maybe he can help her out. Maybe they'll figure it out and she can go back with complete and total control over her powers and wouldn't that be amazing?]

Alright. I mean, if it doesn't work... [She knew what she had to do. But she shrugs that topic off, not exactly eager to get into it on an open network.] Well, don't hurt to try. We can get together later in the week, maybe? I can tell you the nitty gritty. [She didn't doubt he'd want to see her powers in action for himself.]

[ Baggage in his relationships is not remotely new, and takes that sentiment in stride. She wouldn't be the first one to know things he doesn't, to remember a future that may not even be the same one. (He's not even sure they'll ever parse out which universe is properly which. It doesn't matter. People do.) ]

At your convenience. I'll pencil it in.

Sure. Uhm- Space Tuesday? How does that sound?

[Seriously, how did you tell time in space]

[ Practice. A lot of it. ]

I'll make sure to have the schedule clear. We can meet in the makeshift classroom space, if that works for you?

[ It's the closest thing he's had to an office since the house was last destroyed (~~a terrible commonality, one he hasn't quite yet learned~~). ]

That sounds great. I'm sure I'll have found it by then.

[She smirks- she'd really love a map when it came to getting around Agavi.]

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video | welcome waggoned

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GOSH I HATE X3 JSYK

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