Xavier's Institute

Family Fun (OPEN)

Thu, 11 Aug 2005 00:52:10 GMT

(( ooc: continued from here ))

Terry listened idly, her attention more or less on the little angel and demon that tend to live on people's shoulders in time of moral descision.... One told her that keep her erstwhile family out of troubel was the work of a saint and that anything she could do from causing a rukus between these two would, on a selfish note, not only put her on the high ground, but possibly save one of her instructors from another bloodied nose. But on the other hand... who was she to come between years of backbiting and in-fighting? How many times did she want to take a whack at these two idiots herself (an impulse she more or less acted on), so who was she to stand in their way.... or not take the oppotunity to make this disaster-in-the-making profitable?

Taking the gun from her new-found dad (he was a pretty good shot...), Theresa said a silent prayer to God for guidance... and forgot whether or not that was for the matter hand hand or the shot she was about to take. This after all, was a lot different that shooting down a whiskey bottle in the backyard of some middle-of-nowhere hideout... A deep breath, she remembered not to close her eyes and-

*TING!*

"Hey!," Terry said in surprise. "It worked!"

REMINDER

Sun, 07 Aug 2005 18:19:35 GMT

It's that time of year again. A little less than a month until school starts, so please sign up for your seven classes.

All students are required to take four years of English, Math, Power Training and a Foreign Language, as well as Three Years of History and Science. If you've already completed three years of History and Science and don't wish to take a fourth year, you may either take an elective, or choose study hall.

English All sections taught by Professor Xavier
English I
English II
English III
English IV

Foreign Languages
French - Lebeau
German - Wagner
Spanish - McCoy

Math
Geometry - Summers
Algebra - Summers
Trigonometry - Summers
Calculus - Summers

Science
Earth Science - McCoy
Biology - Grey
Chemistry - Grey
Physics - McCoy

Social Studies
American History - Moonstar
American Government and Politics - Xavier
World History - Munroe
European History - Munroe

Electives
Art - Moonstar
Auto Shop -Summers
Computer Applications - A. Summers
Music - Lebeau

REMINDER: All students are required to take Power Training.

Open - Tuesday August day 3 afternoon

Sun, 07 Aug 2005 17:34:21 GMT

Lunch time! Xi'an was in the kitchen, head stuck in the fridge, hoping to find something worth eating as she hummed a bit. She'd been quiet all through their stay at Xavier's, she wasn't one for drama, you might even say her serenity had been a tad on the creepy side.

Backing out of the fridge, a cucumber and a few carrots in hand, she rinsed them and set them aside as she grabbed a knife. Trimming the ends of the sweet orange roots, she glanced up as another arrived in the kitchen. A polite nod as she continued her chopping, popping a carrot coin in her mouth between cuts.

Coney Island Trip-OPEN TO ALL, PLEASE JOIN IN THE FUN!

Tue, 02 Aug 2005 21:33:54 GMT

Jean parked the van, turned off the engine, unbuckled her seat belt and hopped out. She waited for the kids and the rest of the chaperones to pile out and gather around the van.
"Alright," she said, adjusting her sun glasses. "This is suppose to be a fun day and we do want you all to have to fun. But we do have a few rules. Number One: NO POWERS, try and blend in as much as possible. Number Two: Stay with your group. At least one member should have a cell phone so in case something happens, you can call me." She held up her cell phone. "Number Three: Have fun, just be careful. We'll all meet at the Farris Wheel at 5.00 to head back to the mansion. Be there or...you're in big trouble when we get back." Then dropping her teacher look she gave them all a smile. "Alright, go have fun!"

(Okay, this post is for EVERYONE. BH and X-kis and adults alike, just to get things a bit interesting around here. The BH kids are of course welcome to cause trouble. Maybe hold off a bit until things get rolling, but after that GO FOR IT! We need some action around here, damnit! Even if you're character didn't reply to Jean's post, still post here and join in! The more the merrier!)

Note Posted on the Bulliten Boards and Journals-To All

Mon, 25 Jul 2005 17:29:22 GMT

As a special treat for the summer, and to get everyone out of the house for a bit, I am going to organize a trip to Coney Island. Anyone who wants to can sign up on the sheet on the bulliten board, or reply here. Everyone is welcome to come. It should be lots of fun.

Of course, there will be rules in place to keep everyone safe and out of trouble. But, I still want you to have fun. So if you're interested, let me know, and once I've picked a day I'll let you know.

And teachers, I'm going to need chaperones, so...volunteers? Anyone?

~Dr. Grey

July Day 8, Evening - Library - Mind and Matter (OPEN)

Mon, 25 Jul 2005 07:31:36 GMT

Nate sat in the library, a feeling of... dread? Yes, he clearly labeled it as dread as he felt his body start to slow, his eyelids heavy. How could people do this day in and day out? it had been months now since he was placed in the tank to refresh his genetic structure and make imporvements via nutrient rich solutions, months that had yet to teach him how ot cope with the onset of sleep. The process of sleep was confusing enough to him, it was the slow wind down that most distressing, it was like...

... like being back in the lab and feeling the weight of disappointment on very small shoulders. Nate didn't even know to have an emotional responce then, when cold pale hands grabbed his arms furiously and squeezed, testing the muscular structure with unforgiving examination. He bruised too easily, so needles were placed up and down his spine. He was too small at first so gene therapy continued, his mind was too steong for his fram so again, he went into the tank and each time with the same narrow eyed glare, two thin points of red that declared him unfit before his mind slipped away.

Like it was now. Frowning, he focused on the book and the book alone, willing his mind to stay up, pushing himself further.

To prove his worth.

July day 8, the game room - open

Sun, 24 Jul 2005 02:40:05 GMT

Eyes narrowed, the cajun carefully examined his choices. Does he aim left, or does he aim right? He could easily miss the left shot, there were too many obstacles in the way, but the right was just too easy. Remy'd always liked a challenge. So left it was. Leaning into his shot, he lined everything up before 'pok', the sound of the six hitting the side of the pool table. He watched, and watched, and, "YES!" A little dance around the table with his stick in victory befoer he bumped into another body. Nice. Red on black eyes slowly darted around before hetried the innocent act, that he really should know by now, never works.

Holy shit im not dead after all. (Open)

Thu, 14 Jul 2005 20:49:12 GMT

There was a dull thud from the simulated wooden wall as Cal's fist hit it, bone claws cutting in. With a curse, he yanked back hard, freeing them enough to retract them, just in time to duck the punch coming from -- Black Tom?!

It was a Danger Room simulation, of course, one part of the house recreated in the training room, with Cal against a variety of others, also computer-created rather than their real selves. Tom, Raven, Cyclops, even Bobby was there. And wonder of wonders, all on the same side -- against Cal.

The Bobby!Clone shot a stream of ice at him, but he flicked open a lighter and shot back a stream of fire at the same time, forcing it back and creating water on the floor and steam in the air before diving to the side to evade a blast of red energy. A lamp was grabbed, charged, and throw to explode against the not-Cyclops, and he turned around, only to be faced with...Rachel?

Part of his mind screamed at him that it was only the Mystique creation, but the half-second of hesitation was enough for her to land a mean kick across his jaw and send him flying backwards, about to hit the wall before a second optic blast sent him straight through it and into another faux-room. He opened his mouth, screaming hard at Bobby as the other came for him, the sonic vibrations enough that it grabbed its head and fell to the ground, twitching before disappearing, "dead". A hand went to his hurting side as he moved again, throwing a charged piece-of-something at the Tom-creation.

What better place to work out your aggressions than the Danger Room, right?

(Open)

Mon, 11 Jul 2005 08:36:39 GMT

What: Kevin and Rachel, to be finished ala threadage. ♥

Licking his lips in concentration, Kevin flicked his wrist and sent the ball soaring to the hoop. Nothin' but net. Pleased, he smiled to himself. He'd never been much of a basketball player, but he'd always loved shooting hoops with his friends after school, and he hadn't had a chance to do that since coming here. It was good to see his skills hadn't worn down too badly.

Nothing but net that time, maybe, but the redhead standing on the far end of the court, possibly-maybe in the peripheral vision of the person with whom she hadn't been acquainted yet, narrowed her eyes and concentrated on the orange ball as it fell through the hoop. As though it were magnetized to her hands, the ball bounced once and launched into the air, landing hard against her palms, where it was sort of inspected like some kind of foreign object. Yeah, being from post-apocalypic time periods didn't afford one much of a chance to play b-ball. "Who're you?" As though, you know, she wasn't one of the strangers living here. Wtf, way to be weird, Ray.

Apparently, even the basketballs didn't follow the known laws of science in this godforsaken place. Kevin's head turned to follow the ball as, against all reasonable expectation, it flew off to the side and landed in the hands of a redhead he'd seen once or twice before, but had never talked to. "I'm Kevin," he said, smiling slightly. He reached his hands out, waiting for her to toss it back. "Who are you?"

Still sort of inspecting the ball, she looked back and tossed it to it's rightful owner, half-smiling at the very best. "Rachel. How new're you?" Unlike some members of the Brotherhood, she'd actually been a student here. Surprise surprise, right? You never know what types go over to the dark side.

July day 3, afternoon, Open

Fri, 08 Jul 2005 21:43:31 GMT

She'd been outside for what? Two months now? That was getting beyond boring. It was also hot, and Rahne craved air conditioning. So she'd quietly gathered her things while Terry napped, or, whatever, and pretty much ran for the front door of the mansion. Once inside she sighed, and then ran up to the room she shared with Betsy, tossing her things on her bed, and then going back out into the hall way, and down the stairs. She never thought she'd miss being between walls so much, and might have been whistling a slightly upbeat tune as she walked down the corridor, until, that is, she saw someone roaming around at the end of the hallway. Yay, people! Mayhaps they would entertain her, "Hey!" Person.

The gym-For Emma

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 00:23:12 GMT

Only ten more minutes.

That's what Jean was telling herself as she jogged away at a steady pace on the treadmil. Her earphones from her mini-ipod on, she moved to sounds of some up beat music, making herself keep going. She'd already been at for 40 minutes. Just ten more and she'd have that ice cream she ate for breakfast this morning worked off her hips. She tked her water bottle over, taking a sip and setting it back down in the cup holder.

She was lost in her own thoughts and with her music, she didn't hear or sense any approach. If she had, she probably would have found another place to finish her last ten minutes. No way would she purposly let the younger, attractive blonde see her like this. But it seemed, fate, wanted it otherwise.

Day 2, Living Room. Open.

Wed, 06 Jul 2005 08:13:29 GMT

Well, damn.

Kevin traced the jagged edges of the broken glass with a gloved finger. He had rushed into the living room with a bag of freshly microwaved popcorn, not wanting to miss a minute of Clerks on Comedy Central. And now there was a big fat hole in the middle of the beautiful television. Who the hell had done that to the television, and why? Turning, he surveyed the room, as though the perpetrator might still be lurking in a corner somewhere. His eyes fell upon a figure that had just stepped in from the hall.

(( Open. Julie, if the TV has in fact been replaced since Alex broke it, let me know and I'll delete this post. ))

BACKDATED: Saturday, May Day 6, night

Tue, 05 Jul 2005 03:53:46 GMT

(( ooc: set after this 'cause Lance and I can't help ourselves. Technically closed, but... Rahne's practically a memeber of the family by now. =) ))

Terry spilled out of the car and on to the ground, holding her sides from laughter. "Ahhahahahahaa!," she blurted out, far too loud then quickly clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh, lord, sweet Jesus," she gasped, trying to whisper as to keep a bit more of a stealthy atmosphere, but the best plans of mice and men... and drunken irish schoolgirls...

The night had been great and reminded her of all those years past that were just her and Tom, living off the cuff and Tom spoiling her rotten. Before he put her away at St. Elizabeth's, when they were both free. Good times, like tonight. Feeling a bit wonderfully numb and swimmy, she put a hand against the big black Hummer they'd taken out that night and looked at it with some awe. "This... this is a bloody beast..."

Living Room-Open

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 01:29:58 GMT

Alex had finally had it with the "NO ALCOHOL" rule, knowing that you clearly couldn't watch a football game, even a re-run of one on 'ESPC CLASSIC', without the essentials. Chips, dip, salsa, wings and beer. Yes, Alex had enough food to feed a party of people, and no, he probably wouldn't eat it all himself, but...he could save some. For when football season got under way this year, which was only a few weeks away. At least unilt pre-seaon games started.

With all his goodies, and donning his GreenBay sweatshirt, Alex plopped down the couch, flipping the tv on, already to watch a game that he'd seen several times already, but it never seemed to get old. But for some reason...the tv didn't seem to be working.

"What?" He said outloud, flipping it off and on again only get a black screen. He checked all the wires, which seemed to be conected. He check the satilite signal, which seemed to be fine. He checked everything he could think of and still...nothing.

"Alright, who broke the tv?" He asked outloud, as though someone was around to hear him. "Piece of crap," he swore and threw a couple pillows at the tv, hoping that somehow, that might fix it. But, no such luck. Maybe it just need a good kick...or plasma blast.

He hadn't meant to do it so hard, or so forceful...But Alex had charged up a little too much in his frustration and sent a gaint blast into the tv, shattering the glass and putting a bit hole right in the middle. "Shit." He swore again, and quickly made an attempted to hide it before anyone saw it, and him, at the scene of the crime....

Saturday, June day 10 - Evening - roof top - OPEN :D

Wed, 29 Jun 2005 20:48:27 GMT

Elisabeth had spent a lot of time mulling over the conversation she had with Raven - picking it apart, not that she was looking for something, she was just that way. Always analyzing. She was still looking forward to maybe training with Kwannon, and had "talked" to her many times about it. During, or after, (who really knows?) one of their nightly conversations, Betts thought she'd take a little trip to the roof top. After all, it was gorgeous outside, not too hot, not too cold, a slight breeze rustling the leaves in the trees.

She changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, pushing her window open, catching and carrying herself as she slid out (not at all sneaking...), and up to the roof. Then, she smiled, baretoes wiggling as she landed softly, padding over to somewhere that was suitably for sitting. Leaning back, Betsy let out a quiet yawn, then hearing another set of footsteps on the roof. Turning her head slightly, she looked up, now absolutely sure there was no such thing as alone on this property, "Good evening..."

OH SNAPS I UPDATED! poorly, but whatever. the end.

Narrative-[A Card for the Professor]

Sun, 19 Jun 2005 03:47:07 GMT

While Jean was one of the lucky few whose parents were actually supportive of her mutation, sort of anyway, and though she had spent most of her child hood with them, even after her powers had manafested, it had always been the Mansion that she felt was her true home. And though she was fairly close to her birth parents, especially her father, she still had a very special place in her heart for the Professor.

He'd been the one to pull her out of her telepathic coma at the age of eight when her best friend had died in her arms and her telepathy had give way to a plethora of voices that she couldn't understand or control. He'd been the only one who could save her. And from that time on, he'd been training her, showing her how to use her power, how to control it. And he'd invited her to be a part of his school for children like her, who had special gifts so that she wouldn't have to feel afraid or alone.

He'd seen her through many triumphs and main failures. Through lots of heartbreak, and mental anguish when her power began to grow at rapid pace that she couldn't control. He'd been her friend, her mentor, her inspiration. And in many ways...a father.

So, Jean knew that on Father's Day, she had not only her real father to think of, but also the man who was very much a father to her as well. In some ways, more so than her real one.

Jean had snuck into the Professor's office early and left the card and the small gift she'd gotten for him on his desk. It was nothing big, just something to say, "Thank you. For everything."

Professor,
It seems like just yesterday that I first met you. I was such a helpless little girl then, who felt so lost in such a big world, that had suddenly become much bigger. But with your help, the world didn't seem like such a scarey place.

There aren't enough words to express how grateful I am for all that you've done for me. Opening you heart to a little girl who was so lost, taking her in and teaching her what you know. Showing her that she wasn't different, or strange, or weird because she had a special gift. Making her feel warm and welcome...and loved.

Thank you for everything. You'll never know how much your love and support through the years has helped me, and how your wisdom and guiance have encouraged me and given me strength when I needed it most. I only hope I can some day pass onto my children what I've learned from you.

Happy Father's Day!

Love Always,
Jean

Sunday-June Day 4-Morning

Fri, 10 Jun 2005 15:44:10 GMT

After her "chat" with Mystique, Jean had been thinking a lot more about what she'd said and what was on that disk that she'd given her. Call it her disbelief, the doubt she wanted to have that this was made up, that Mystique had somehow given them this to just try and make them act before they knew all the facts. But as she sat on the back porch, her lap top in her lap, going over the disk again, she knew it was true.

That the federal governement, who Charles had worked so hard to make contacts with, to keep peace with, so that nothing like this happened...had turned against them. Was infact, trying to find a way to destory them. She was scared that perhaps this was too much. That they wouldn't be able to stop it this time, and that everything...everyone she loved would be killed. The children, who had so much faith in the X-Men to keep them safe. Ororo, Kurt, Warren, Remy, Dani, Hank, all her friends who she deeply cared about. The Professor, who was practically a father to her. Scott, who she loved with all her heart and soul. And Logan who...she wasn't sure about. But, she did care deeply for him too.

Looking up from the open file on the screen in front of her, she watched several of the kids as they ran around the back yard, enjoying their summer freedom from classes and the pleasant weather. Just...being kids. Which made her smile, to know that they were giving these kids a chance to do that, to just be like normal kids. It warmed her heart. But when she thought about the information she had, it unconsciously brought soft tears running down her cheeks.

The thought of losing these kids, who she thought of as her own, losing everything they'd fought so hard for...

She was deep in thought and hadn't heard the footsteps that approached or felt the shift in weight on the swing as someone sat down next to her...

((This is open to anyone of course, but I thought perhaps Logan might wanna pop his head in...maybe Scott. It's up to you Kat.;)))

after a death [ narrative ]

Wed, 08 Jun 2005 05:58:01 GMT

After her run in the DR, X-23 goes to out to live on the grounds of the school for a few days. She's been trying to purge herself by going through memories. Still, she feels too unstable to go back into the school. If you don't understand why, I'm not explaining it.

If you want your character to find her, IM me first. Otherwise she might kill them and I won't be held responsible.

After a Death is by Tomas Tranströmer

--

Once there was a shock
that left behind a long, shimmering comet tail.
It keeps us inside. It makes the TV pictures snowy.
It settles in cold drops on the telephone wires.

X-23 was tired, but she couldn't stop. Uppercut, duck, one claw rip. Her breathing was harsh; the sound of it bounced off surrounding trees. Maybe if she kept focused, the memory of warm blood would leave her skin, her nose, her mouth. If she kept moving until passing out, maybe her mind would be dreamless from exhaustion. She used the support of an old tree to do a back flip before cutting across an invisible mid-section. Violence to cleanse violence. Her curse and only solace. Nate had been right in his first meeting with her - being a weapon upset her, but she was upset when she wasn't one. She couldn't shake off the instincts that chased her like a relentless hound. Her claws glinted under the red light filtering through the trees from the west. One by one, X-23 cut down the ghosts.

One can still go slowly on skis in the winter sun
through brush where a few leaves hang on.
They resemble pages torn from old telephone directories.
Names swallowed by the cold.

Thomas Crant, age 25. Killed in the twenty-fifth floor office he had in New York City.
Hart Fellows, age 56. Killed in a military facility in Jacksonville, Florida.
Randall Weddington, age 35. Killed in his tour bus, prepping for his campaign across the mid-west.
Colette Jenkins, age 29. Killed in San Diego in her Cadillac, after dropping her children off at school.
Nicolas Depres, age 43. Killed in Versailles, France after a banquet in his honor.

The spinning list was broken when she lost her footing on a damp patch of moss and slid forward too far. She hit her knee hard on a rock and punched the ground. Fury or pain, it didn't particularly matter which one was flooding her head at that moment. One tear dripped down her face before she was up and slashing wildly at the tree in front of her. X-23 knew it was going to fall, she knew she was cutting too far. But no matter how many times she pulled her claws through it, the bark still felt like flesh. As the tree leaned dangerously with a groan and toppled over, all she could see was the head of that nameless man she'd decapitated in the Danger Room.

What did it mean? X-23 already knew but continued to ask, as if the answer would change. She jumped the freshly cut tree and ran. The burst of speed only lasted until her vision blurred again. X-23 paused to lean against a large rock.

"You got my blood," Logan said. "I figure that makes you family."
"We *are* not like other mutants," Nate explained calmly. "We're supposed to be better."
"I know where you can steal some clothes from, that might keep you warmer."
"I'm not asking you to be anything you're not." Elisabeth turned, and sat back at the vanity, continuing her prep. "I'm just trying to be your friend."
"Why're you hiding in the trees, X-23?"

X-23 leaned over and pressed her fists against the sides of her head, her knuckles at her temples.

"I've been around," he replied, not that aware of how cryptic that sounded before looking up to meet X-23's gaze with calm, bright blue eyes and a small smile. "You were thinking about me."
"You can watch, not interact. Learn to blend, but remember that you're not one of them."

Her knees sunk into the soft, wet ground beneath her. She was hunched over so the tears could drop on her legs.

"What did you do with the child? They were all supposed to be dead."
"I asked if you would like to re-start the program... You failed your objective..."

It ran deep, a crack splintering along glass. The tears were painful; they made her sick.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around, sugar." Creed said, his eyes burning into hers.

Something was breaking inside of her. X-23 wasn't sure she could stop it. Her hands left her temples to bury themselves in the mud. A strained sob cut through the silence and she sat, fallen, believing it unheard.

It is still beautiful to hear the heart beat
but often the shadow seems more real than the body.
The samurai looks insignificant
beside his armor of black dragon scales.

clashing colors and philosophies [ log, narrative...me talking to myself... ]

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 21:49:06 GMT

After talking to Kat, I had to do it. I couldn't help myself.
Who: Jubilee and Magneto
Where: The kitchen
When: Saturday, June Day 3
Why: Because I like writing. Whee.

Jubilee wandered into the kitchen for her regular afternoon snack (Kudos bars and a big glass of milk) and the gum-smacking that usually accompanied the noise blaring from her head phones came to an abrupt stop. There, at the kitchen table, sat Magneto. The scary guy the X-men fought all the time. The guy that was locked up for nearly killing everyone in New York. The head honcho of the Brotherhood!

He looked up at her, raised his brow and...ignored her.

For once, Jubilee had absolutely nothing to say. She eyed him warily before going over to the fridge to grab her food. Her first instinct was to pack up everything and get the heck out of there. What if he stabbed her with a fork?! But by the time Jubes had gotten her Kudos bars she'd decided that she couldn't be scared of him. Xavier wasn't scared of him. Mr. Summers wasn't scared of him. She was certain Logan wasn't scared of him and he had metal claws! So, she squared her shoulders and took her milk and junk food over to the table.

She sat across from him. He looked at her.

Jubilee looked up at him, raised her brow and...ignored him back. She chewed extra loud though, just to be annoying.

*

After a few minutes, Erik set down his newspaper. The crunching had to stop. He was really tempted to stab a fork through the young girl's head, but thankfully he had more control than that. Erik sipped his tea, counted to ten, and set his tea down again. If Xavier could deal with a school full of these little cretins, then he could deal with one. His patience wasn't that thin, was it?

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Perhaps it was.

"Do you eat like this all the time or are you afflicted with some psychological disease that makes you this annoying?" he asked, his voice dry.

The girl looked up again and Erik was amused by the ill-concealed surprise in her eyes. They were blue, he noticed. How odd for someone of Chinese decent.

"I'm sorry, am I annoying you? That's like too bad. School rules say I have to eat in the kitchen, you know," she replied. Her voice was flippant, but held steady by deceptive bravery. So he'd scared her. Good.

"Ah yes, the sacred school rules. Perhaps Charles should teach you something equally important: manners. They become useful in dealing with people older and more dangerous than you."

"Yeah, whatever. Just because you can float a plane and stuff, doesn't mean you can creep me out." As if to prove her point, Jubilee crunched extra loud.

Erik narrowed his eyes. He didn't give the people under him that much of a leash in dealing with him, he wouldn't give one to her either. "Unless you want a pot wrapped around your head, I advise you eat like a proper young woman."

The crunching stopped. Erik looked back down at his newspaper, relaxing a little bit. He sipped his tea.

"So...when you're not like destroying something, is this what you do?" she asked.

It appeared that the quiet could only be enjoyed in small intervals around this child. He glared, although it was watered down from what he might have given to someone like Toad. There was no point in his intimidation tactics getting back to Charles.

*

Jubilee fought between wanting to laugh and hide when Magneto glared at her. She set her glass of milk down to fidget beneath the table.

"When I'm not fighting a growing war or dealing with fools, yes I enjoy reading," he responded. "Perhaps you should attempt it sometime. It's good for you."

She got the distinct feeling 'fools' was directed at her. So she glared back. The glaring contest went on for a few moments before she shrugged. "I do read stuff, thank-you-very-much."

"Oh really?" He sounded interested, but one look at his face told her he was getting ready to fire an Illiad-sized, politician-crafted insult at her. "What might you be reading now?"

"Vogue, Seventeen, People and we're reading A Seperate Peace in English class," Jubilee replied. She waited for his response. And waited.

"How far?"

"How far what?"

"Have you gotten in the book?" Magneto asked, obviously annoyed again.

"Page ten. I get distracted," Jubilee said.

Then came the curt reply. "That's not hard to imagine."

"Well it's pretty easy to do what with the news, mean people moving themselves into my home, and oh, can't forget attacks on the school. Yeah, that's a big one," she snapped back. There was that cool, scary look again but it was wicked strong. Jubilee shrunk in her chair.

"If it'd been an attack, child, you wouldn't have been left alive," Magneto said. Even his voice was dangerous. It was nothing like when Cyke was mad at her. Jubes got the feeling this guy really would've wrapped a pot around her head.

*

There were another few blissful moments of silence. Erik read his newspaper until he heard her shuffling in her seat. He didn't look up this time. "What is it?" he asked. A hand went to rub his temple. Perhaps it'd been a good thing to hole himself in his room. Was this child the reason Charles didn't wander about the halls?

"What was it then?" she asked, sounding far more mature than she had in the past fifteen minutes. "Why would you hurt kids and destroy everything like that if it wasn't just an attack?"

Erik's jaw clenched. One of the reasons he'd been so angry about how that particular mission went was the casualties his Brotherhood had left behind. While Erik was largely unapologetic for his actions in the past, the injuries the children of the school had sustained were unforgivable. Not just because it went against the goal of the Brotherhood, but because it had messed up the message he wanted to send completely. Xavier's people didn't focus on their security or their philosophies after the entire ordeal was over - they focused on what had been done to their children.

"It was an attempt to prove your precious staff is far too trustworthy of the human world and its leaders. They were completely unprepared for an attack. Look at how poorly you defended yourselves and how badly you lost. My Brotherhood wasn't even trying," he said. He raised his eyes to look at her. Erik hadn't thought her capable of seriousness.

"So you attacked us because we weren't living like you," the girl said. She frowned. "Isn't that exactly like that horrible human world you're fighting against?"

"No, it isn't," he said, dismissing that idea. It'd been nothing but a warning. She was still viewing it as something more.

"Shouldn't we be allowed to like, live however we want? So what if we act like a school, that's what we're like supposed to be. Shouldn't mutants be allowed to go to school like normal people?"

"Mutants aren't 'normal people'. It's unrealistic to live as if nothing is going to happen," Erik replied. This was starting to sound very much like his discussions with Charles.

"But we are. My parents weren't mutants. My friends weren't mutants before I came here. I'm not better than them, I can still die. We're different just like everyone else is different. So why shouldn't I get to live like everyone else?"

Erik raised his brow again. He felt there was more to that than what she was asking him. "Because those humans you wish to compare with hate you, my dear. They always will. No amount of talking is going to change the fact you were born better. We have to defend our own kind."

*

During her bout of silence (which happened far to much around him for her liking), Magneto didn't look down at his paper this time. Instead he watched her, as if he were considering something. It was unnerving. Jubilee actually wanted him to start ignoring her again.

"People hate African-Americans and gay people, but they're not blowing things up. I think you're wrong, but you already know that. I believe in the Prof and Mr. Summers," Jubilee said, finally.

"I think you're foolish, idealistic and young," he sneered. For some reason it didn't seem so snarky this time.

There was another round of silence. Jubilee sipped her milk. Magneto sipped his tea. Feet and paper were shuffled.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Jubilee."

"What's your real name?"

"Dude. What kind of question is that?"

He glared. She glared. He glared better. She drank her milk really fast before responding, "Jubilation Lee."

"I didn't mean your full name," he sighed.

He looked like he wanted to hit her with the stupid-stick right then. But honestly, what was he asking?! Jubilee pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Then what the heck did you mean?"

"What do they call you when you're using your powers?" Magneto asked, as if he were talking to a two year old.

"Ju-bi-lee. Geez. What else would they call me?"

Jubilee blinked. Did Magneto just twitch? Nah. She held up her hand and let a few sparks flicker off her fingertips. "I call them pafs...because that's what they sound like. They look like they're fireworks, but they're not. Like duh. But I can't remember what Doc McCoy said when he explained them. Something about plasma."

"How very impressive," he said, in a not-so-nice way.

"Well you wouldn't think so," Jubilee muttered. What a jerk. She got up from the table. She didn't have to take this kind of stuff! She picked up her glass and wrappers, before heading for the door. Turning around a paf went out from her finger and shot over to drop in his empty tea cup. "Nice talking to you or whatever."

*

She left the room and the paf still sat there, flickering brilliantly against the porcelain. Erik got up and stepped away, glancing briefly at the door. Manipulating a pot, he covered the tea cup as he rolled the paper and set it on the counter. He was on his way out as well when the pot was blown clear off the table revealing the charred remains of his tea. As illiterate and rude as Jubilation Lee was, she had been practicing. It had Erik vaguely interested, if only because she wasn't what she seemed.

The kitchen was left empty again. He had files to read and plots to weave before the next 'civil' meeting to be had with Xavier's babes.

Another narrative, technically open

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 15:38:36 GMT

For all the drama that had ensued between Hank McCoy and a certain blue mademoiselle, his situation hadn´t really changed all that much since he´d declared his love for her. Raven continued to stay in her own room, entertaining herself, or so Hank suspected, with a certain annoying Irish rogue from the Brotherhood. Not only that, but she as to be married soon, would be gone for at least a week, on a honeymoon with her new bride.

Hank turned the Mozart playing on the stereo up a bit. She´d warned him, after all. He´d gone into this knowing that a normal relationship wouldn´t be able to exist, though a small part of him had perhaps hoped that he would be able to change her.

A sigh. Mystique´s difference was exactly what had attracted him. She wasn´t the shy bookish girl he normally found interest in. Rather, she was a strong smart woman who knew exactly what she wanted from life.

Hank unwrapped a twinkie, pondering the enigma that was Raven Darkholme. Was she just laughing at the puppy dog following her around, or did she care, even the slightest bit, about him?

Narrative from the Guthrie farm...Open, technically to Jay

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 15:33:36 GMT

Paige flopped back onto her bed, arms tucked under her head. She hadn´t been doing nearly as much school work as she´d wanted to. In the first place, Momma had needed her help, and looking after six kids doesn´t give you a lot of free time. In the second place, though she´d never admit it, Mystique´s ords had left a strong impression on her, and disloyal though it was, she couldn´t help wondering how much of it was true. She had trusted the Professor and Mr. Summers with her life...ith the life of her family. Had that trust been misplaced? Who only knew what could have happened to Sam that night when the school had been attacked.

She rolled over, huffily, onto her stomach. Of course, she wasn´t about to team up with the very people who had attacked them, either. That would just be stupid. A tear rolled down her cheek, quickly blotted on her pillocase. The X-Men had been her heroes for years, especially since Sam had joined the school and told her about the secret jet and the teacher who could read anyone´s mind. Was she outgrowing her heroes? They were just human, after all.

Day 2, Morning. OPEN!

Mon, 06 Jun 2005 05:40:57 GMT

The only thing better than a strong cup of coffee in the morning, in Raven's opinion, was a good breakfast to go with it. Life had made a civilized woman of her in most ways, had certainly taught her to roll with the punches-- culinary or otherwise, and had, as Raven would be the first to argue, more or less stripped away any lingering remnants of the child she'd once been. All the same, somewhere deep in the complicated psyche of Raven Darkholme, some fragment of Anna Hiessleitner, the little girl from Austria, was still very much alive and well, and she adored a good country breakfast.

Looking down into the cast iron skillet on the range, Raven gave the slowly browning sausage patties a quick flip with a spatula, their rich scent rising headily from the pan as the meat sizzled. A press down on each of them, and then the spatula was set aside, and Mystique paused for a sip of bitter coffee before turning to her heavy mixing bowl and the other skillet. She gave the mixture a good final beating with her fork, then doled some of it into the skillet, her palate already more than set for a good batch of light, eggy pfannkuchen. Thinner and more delicate than American pancakes, and bearing more resemblance to French crepes than anything else, pfannkuchen had long been a favorite of Raven's, dusted with cinnamon and sugar and served with breakfast meats. She, of course, would always claim that her palate was a sophisticated one, partial to truffles and fine wines and pomegranates, but nostalgia had a place somewhere in everyone's hearts, and Mystique was no exception.

Checking the edge of the first of the crepes with her spatula, Raven didn't look up at the sound of approaching company.

To All Students

Mon, 06 Jun 2005 05:19:06 GMT

From now on, students are limited to two or fewer hours of television or video games per day. We need to cut back a little on our electricity usage, and you guys need to be spending a little more time outside staying fit. Who'd be interested in an intramural team if we started one?

Sat, 04 Jun 2005 19:59:27 GMT

Despite the fact that she could have caught up on some sleep this morning, Jean found herself wide awake at seven thirty. She blamed Scott. For whatever reason, he'd been up at five, and out of the room by five thirty, off to work on some project or something. Though he tried to be quiet, he still managed to wake her up, and she hadn't been able to get back to sleep.

So, she'd gotten out of bed, showered, dressed and done her hair and make-up. But since hardly anyone else was up and about yet, and she didn't have classes for a few more hours, she decided to try and get some last minute work done the final for her classes. So, she headed to the teacher's lounge. When she got there, however, she found that it appeared someone had left all their papers strewn about, tossed all over the place, almost as if they'd left in a hurry. Couch cushions were everywhere, and cabinet door were open.

Had someone been looking for something?

So, rather than work on what she had planned, Jean worked on cleaning up, putting things back where they went. But, she soon realized there was really no organization to the lounge at all and before she knew it was recorginze everything. Papers, supplies, text books...all of it. However, as she was cleaning out a drawer she came across a shoe box that she'd never seen before. Curious she pulled it out and opened it up. Inside were dozens of pictures. She pulled them out and started going through them, and soon realized...she was in these pictures. Everyone was. When they were much younger, of course.

Taking the box and abonding her cleaning, she sat down on the couch and began going through the pictures, trying to remember the events taking place in all of them. Some had labels and dates on the back, others didn't. But there they were. Her, Hank, Scott, Storm, Alex...all of them. Playing together as kids in the snow, playing in the leaves, playing the sprinklers and in the swimming pool. Pictures of first dances in junior high, prom pictures, graduation pictures...they went on and one.

As she looked through them, she smiled at all the memories they held, and some that she didn't even remember taking place. And she wondered why these pictures had ended up here, just shoved in a box. Surely the Professor would want them, kept in a scrap book or something? Maybe she could work on one for him, as a surprise.

She was so lost in the pictures that she didn't hear anyone approach until there was a knock on the door.

real training [ narrative / open to Logan or any other adult ]

Thu, 02 Jun 2005 20:17:53 GMT

When: June, Day One.
Where: The Danger Room
Who: X-23

Note: Logan would be in the observation deck (if Kat wants him to appear at all) since X-23 isn't permitted to use the room without supervision. I opened it to any other adults. I figure it might stir some trouble with the faculty if someone else saw it, considering how violent she is. Although, a Brotherhood adult may pop in too.

If you don't like gore, don't read this. There. I've warned you.
---

within the human heart, there are lines forged from a young age

X-23 walked in knowing there were eyes on her. She choose to ignore them. She could do that because there was no voice in her ear, no cold devices against her skin. The rage that often followed her into empty steel rooms was muffled behind a wall in her mind. Her hands relaxed at her sides.

The scenery change was swift, burying her in thick foliage and the humid air of a tropical evening. It was a rush to her senses, but her eyes were quick to adjust in the dark as she crouched down. Her finger tips touched the mud beneath her feet before sinking them into it. She smeared it over her face and the exposed skin of her arms. X-23 heard footsteps about twenty feet ahead of her. Her body stilled completely as she scented the air: male, adult, unaware.

they are drawn by words,

There is only one of you, so you have to enter silently. That means no one hears you, no one sees you. The voice of her former trainer echoed in her mind as she crept up behind the armed soldier. He spun around, his finger gripping the trigger a second too late. X-23's right claws cut off the barrell of his gun while the left set embedded in his throat. Blood sprayed in her face. The soldier fell with a soft thud at her feet, making soft, strangled noises as he died. X-23 didn't stay around to see the life drain out of his eyes. She was twenty feet closer to the entrance of the compound that loomed in the distance.

stretched by experience,

She crawled through the brush on her belly. X-23 saw farther ahead to where a patrol was pacing before the side entrance. Their eyes were wary and their guns were out. Another soldier or even a pair of soldiers would sweep the surrounding forest soon. Her first kill would be discovered. There wasn't time to be tricky; she needed to get this group out of the way so she wouldn't have to deal with them later on. X-23 brought her body into a crouch and tensed like a coil under stress.

Her attack was so fast that she'd killed two before the other three had enough sense to fire off shots. X-23 flipped over one fallen body and landed in the face of a tall, blond soldier. Her arm blocked him from bringing his gun in her face. She swung the other, her claws popping out at the last moment to slice through his throat. The warm rush of blood over her arm barely registered as she dodged fire from one of the remaining two. She picked up the now dead body and flung it in the direction of the two soldiers, effectively knocking them over. One was stabbed through the forehead while the other died of a puncture wound to the chest.

And then she was inside.

secured by habit.

The man stretched out at the security desk fell fairly easily. All it took was a calculated blow to the skull. X-23 moved his body to the floor so she could flick through all the working cameras via keyboard. The outer alarms were going off and she could hear the commotion starting outside. She had half a minute, maybe, before about ten guards would come the way she'd entered. No time. Her green eyes stared intently at the screen. An image of a grey haired man sitting alone in a room appeared and X-23 committed the room number to memory. The monitors crashed to the floor, cords were shredded, the computer trashed. Hopping onto the chair, X-23 popped a ceiling tile open before leaping upwards and sliding it shut behind her.

X-23 had gotten ten feet before the door crashed open below. Men rushed back and forth below, shouting orders and spreading out. X-23 waited until she felt them underneath her to kick open the tile directly under her and jump down into the hall again. The gun fire was instanteanous.

we are taught that we can't color outside of our boundaries,

A hand on her arm was sliced off. She lashed out with a kick. Her footblade tore out of her boot upon connecting with someone's chest. Bullets grazed her side but the wounds healed fast. It was like she'd never been shot by the time she sliced up the tenth soldier, adding him to a growing pile.

Blood drenched her clothes. The metallic smell was in her nostrils now; it spurred pure adrenaline into her veins. Her hands were warmed as she cut through more flesh, as if she'd dipped her fingers into bath water. She met the brown eyes of a man and faltered as she brought her claws down to slash his abdomen. Eyes were windows to the soul, weren't they? All she saw was fear.

but still we writhe against our restraints

A shot was fired and she instinctively thrust her claws into his stomach, ripping away and turning to rake her claws through the eyes of the next soldier. X-23 didn't hear the screaming but she felt the burning of the bullet that tore clear through her shoulder. Then another wedged beneath her kneecap. Moving her body was like wading through waters in Hell for a few moments, but the man responsible fell with his teammates.

not realizing this shape they gave us is permanent.

She limped down the hall and then she ran. How many dead? Twenty maybe. X-23 moved through each man so fast, the count blurred. Her eyes scanned the labels on the rooms even as she flew past them. Close, she was close. When she rounded the corner, she should've paid more attention. She was thrown to the ground by a hard close-line to the throat. X-23 struggled for air for a few moments as she was pinned. She couldn't move, she couldn't get up. With a snarl, she used strength a girl her size shouldn't have and twisted her arm beneath the man on top of her. X-23 impaled him on her claws.

Nothing could stop her when the rage got free. Nothing.

we can't escape our nature

Count, count, what was the count, she didn't know. The blood was on her skin, on her lips now. Green eyes read the room number again. C-375. X-23 kicked the door viciously, feeling the wood give beneath her strength before it fell. She stepped inside with her hair plastered against the sides of her face and her head bowed ever so slightly.

The man sitting on the chair leapt up with a brilliant smile on his face. He stepped towards her with his hand outstretched. Thanks was on his tongue.

X-23's foot slid forward. He stepped right in front of her.

Snikt.

The cut was clean, perfect. Everything HYDRA would expect from her. His head fell from his shoulders and rolled awkwardly upon hitting the floor. The body crumpled after it.

Red lights and the mechanic voice droning "objective failed" were dimly noted in X-23's mind. She stared at the body on the floor until it disappeared. Her claws disappeared beneath her skin, but she could still feel them - phantoms in the bone.

no matter how much we once dreamed we might.

She hadn't been sent to assassinate. She'd been sent to save.