milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Charles has been taking advantage of the fact that time stops in Milliways to do work and learn more about the people who pass through here. There's such a variety to the minds and experiences that if he didn't have to finish his editing, he'd probably spend most of his time with his eyes closed and just listening.

As it is, one of his sections isn't going as he'd like and he keeps going back over a certain sentence until he's quite lost track of time.

When he finally gets it right, he looks up and realizes that took a while and allows himself a break, so he leans back in his chair and observes the Bar.

Tiny tag: Charles Xavier, Antinoos
OOC: If you approach him while he's working then he's not mentally listening except quite passively. After he's stopped working, he is actively listening to the conversations and minds around him. Feel free to interrupt him or wait until he's on a break. Please let me know what he'll encounter in your pup's mind. Thank you.

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His explanation earns him a rare real smile. It's sensible, and Alanna likes people who are sensible.

"People tend not to accept what scares them," she notes. "Or what challenges their view of How Things Should Be." A quick shake of her head. "I don't think we have quite the same issues at home. It's more... societal change than biological that gets the conservatives mad."

An image from a history book Myles assigned her flashes through her mind. It's a Stormwing: all steel feathers and a human face.

"I've heard tales, though. Mutant creatures who were locked in the Divine Realms." Beat. "Are these mutants you speak of... related to the gods?"

The Stormwing is startling but then Charles thinks of Raven and its a little less so,

"Yes, how things should be is usually the biggest hurdle to any major change. I don't believe they are. Are the gods active in your world?"

A quick flash of something might reach Charles before she locks it down: A rainy night on a deserted road; a small campfire; the kitten on her shoulder, eyes bright, bright purple; and a tall, slim woman so beautiful to look upon and listen too that it physically hurts.

"I think so," is her wry response.

He takes a drink to cover his surprise at that image,

"I don't believe they are in my world. That's why I look at things through the lens of science."

A nod.

(It makes sense.)

"What sort of mutations are there?" To clarify: "In your world."

"All sorts of types from quite small ones like having two different colored eyes to more extreme ones such as telepathy,"

Which covers his own work and his own mutation all at once.

"Telepathy," Alanna frowns.

Faithful looks at her. There's nothing wrong with your ears, at least.

"That's..." She stops; looks at Charles. "How common is that?"

"Not terribly, I only know of at the most two people who have it,"

That's just in Milliways and those who identify as mutants so himself and Jean. He doesn't count others not from his world in that question.

Faithful licks a paw.

Alanna stays quiet and looks around, head swiveling from side to side, her heartbeat speeding up like she's about to engage in battle.

"I've heard there are ways to block them," she says, as nonchalantly as she can manage.

"Yes, there are, a number of techniques. I've found the most effective ones are highly personalized,"

Charles stays still and neutral, he'd like to tell her that she can trust him but doesn't see an opening.

Trust isn't exactly resonating at the moment. Alanna is wary. Very, very wary. It's habitual.

"They would be," she nods. After a moment, she adds, "I'd like to know how."

She knows ways. Roger has tried to pick at her mind several times before. It isn't anything she is prepared to admit, and there must be some benefit to hearing what Charles has to say.

He takes a sip of his drink as she already knows some solid techniques,

"The main idea is to be safe in your own head. I find metaphors useful as they make it possible to manipulate abstract ideas."

Safe in your own head is a concept Alanna fully supports. It angers her to no end that she might not be.

It's her very life.

She is stubborn, smart and wary; nothing about what she does next feels silly to her.

"An impregnable wall seems good. Or a trap."

Or a test.

What about you, she thinks really, really hard.

Faithful peers at Charles, curious.

I have multiple layers, some more permeable than others. I respect the defenses others erect.

He thinks at her before saying, "I began with walls as thick as I could make themas I wanted to keep everyone out of my head. Now I balance what I hear and my own thoughts and can shift my walls."

There's another long, drawn out silence during which Alanna and Faithful study him with equally unsettling purple gazes.

She can't read minds, wouldn't want to even if she could. Still, there's something in the space before he spoke that concerns her even before she processes his words.

And then,

"What you hear?" Low, raspy, dangerous.

Their gaze reminds him of Raven's unflinching yellow eyes and he holds it,

"Yes, what I hear. I'm a telepath."

Alanna's hand drops to her sword and it is halfway out of its sheath before she is completely aware of her actions.

"Did you read my mind, Sir?"

The sword is unexpected and Charles immediately moves his hands up to show he won't attack,

"Yes, but I will tell no one what I heard and can teach you to block someone like me."

Before his hands are all the way up, the sword clears its sheath and is pointed at his throat. Alanna wields the blade like it is an extension of her arm; she does not tremble or shift her stance or give any indication that she is anything but deadly with it.

The mental precautionary measures she is accustomed to keeping in place because of Roger strengthen. She gives it everything she has and then some, using her Gift without even thinking about it. She's too angry to be scared of it now.

Faithful's black coat shines in the faint purple light of Alanna's Gift. He doesn't dig his claws into her shoulder yet. He merely peers at Charles, waiting.

"What did you hear?" Alanna demands.

He winces at the strengthening as it feels like being pulled out and tries to keep calm, it's hard, he's never had a sword at his throat before,

"Nothing I will say in a public place."

Faithful meows.

That's all. Just a simple meow, like any other cat.

Alanna's brow furrows, but she doesn't lower the sword.

Faithful very nearly rolls his eyes. Through a series of leaps he lands on Charles' shoulder and eyes his Person.

Or in private, he says, allowing Charles to hear. In fact I think we can all agree that anything you think you know should be forgotten.

Beat.

I did warn you.

"What? You did no such thing," Alanna snaps.

How many ways do I have to say 'you should be on guard' for your human brain to understand?

The sword lowers an inch.

When Faithful moves, Charles works to stay if possible even more still as he hears his thoughts.

Then he tries to figure out the best way to answer and goes with aloud,

"I never repeat any secrets I hear. It was one of the first lessons I learned when I was about six. You have no reason to trust me and your shields are quite good now, but I can help you with them if you wish."

Good, then we are all agreed. Still, Faithful digs his claws into Charles before jumping down: a warning he should take seriously.

Alanna can hear her own pulse. It starts to slow, beat by beat, until she can lower the sword all the way to the ground. Faithful isn't worried. That's something.

You're going to have to redefine who you trust now, Faithful tells her alone. Start with him.

"How did you," she starts, breaking off. In her blinding fury and concern that he'd discovered her deepest secret, something had failed to process fully. "You respect defenses but breach them anyway? How does that work?"

She had heard him. In her mind. How?

As Faithful and the sword move, Charles remains still as he pieces together how to answer,

"A mind is complex with multiple layers of thoughts, everyday I listen to the upper layers, the swirling thoughts. I hear them as you hear the conversations around you, they make up how I perceive the world. I did not go deep into your mind to discover anything and I spoke into your mind in that top layer of thoughts."

Oddly, that's the most reassuring thing he has said.

Alanna remains suspicious, but at least she no longer looks willing to make him dead.

"That sounds exhausting."