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It's been a while - a couple days on her side of the door, but a while here - when Sariel's quarters next sprout a pub.

And it's Cubefall again? Blink. The vidwindow that pops up when she's halfway to Bar confirms it, though the construction toys bedecking the room made it fairly plain to begin with.

Would you like to sample some reconfigurations? Y/N

Looking at possible choices can't hurt, Sariel reasons. These *are* temporary reconfigurations; she has positive proof of that, especially after the transformation she accepted last time. She taps the Y button.

The first option makes her look thoughtful. The second makes her smile. The third turns that smile into a frown verging on a grimace. And the fourth?

Well.

a green anol
a white egret
an Exocomp
a tribble

"Oh no," Sariel says emphatically, somewhere between consternation and amusement. "I don't think so... or in general, actually. Not now, at least, but thank you." The vidscreen is dismissed in the next second, and that leaves Sariel...

Halfway to a cup of tea, in the middle of a bar filled with construction toys of all shapes and sizes.

Hmm. It *does* look as though several people are playing with those, so apparently it's allowed...

There's an unoccupied bin of mixed legos and tinker toys that's now in use, one piece or so at a time. Also in use are one seat of a be-construction'd booth and that booth's tabletop. One form taking shape atop that table appears to be vaguely seatlike. The other, lego-y one, is looking more and more like a spacecraft with every addition. Intrepid class, for anyone who might be familiar with the fine details.

Looks like somebody's both indulging a bias and pondering over a new desk chair...

Utterly botherable. Just don't squash the proto-starship.

((Tiny X-tag: Charles Xavier))

((OOC: Fair warning, slowtime for household chores may well apply. Also for zonking out, when the tireds hit. Aaaaand they've hit. Slowtime for a few hours, folken.))

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When Sariel says oh no, it gets Charles' attention from his own vid-window and he says,

"Unappealing choices as well?"

He looks a little shocked at his options but is trying to cover it, there's just some strain around his eyes.

There's a hint of amusement/bemusement/consternation still lingering on Sariel's face as she turns toward Charles, but it's fading. Tribbles and Exocomps, oof. For very different reasons, even.

"Two of the possibilities were interesting, but one was very unappealing, and the other was a--" Hang on a second. Is that...?

"Excuse me, but I may have just mistaken you for someone else." Half a beat. "Will? Is that you?"

It's Cubefall, after all.

At her mistake, he clears his face of his own worry and smiles,

"No, my name's Charles Xavier but I've been told I resemble Will Scarlett."

Aha. That clears that up, and neatly.

"You do, actually," Sariel agrees, "though you're not identical to Will." His hair is the wrong color, run Sariel's thoughts, and he hasn't suffered. Not visibly, though that doesn't rule out--that train of thought is consciously kept from going any further.

"I'm Ensign Sariel Rager," she adds, holding out a hand.

"It's good to meet you,"

Her thoughts bring some of the frown back to his eyes but he doesn't let it take over as he shakes her hand.

"And you," Sariel answers. She hasn't missed the subtle change of his expression, but she isn't commenting on it.

"I should likely mention," she adds, "that my current year is 2370. Home is the island of Saint Lucia, but I serve aboard a--" careful choice of words. "--spacefaring vessel," she finishes.

If you can hear that sort of thing, Sariel's quietly hoping she's avoided giving Charles culture shock along with the necessary details.

"I'm from 1962 and that's fascinating. I've met a few people from futures with space travel. I currently live in Oxford where I'm finishing my doctoral in genetics,"

He realizes that the vid-window is still there and moves to dismiss it.

That could have gone far worse. Sariel's emotions and thoughts say as much, though she's trying to keep obvious signs of relief off her face.

1962 does make her think briefly of someone, though. Blond hair, pale, pale hands, a horrifying story and God, but she hasn't seen him in a long time...

She doesn't look at his vidwindow. That'd be rude. "I know someone from close to your time," she admits, "though presumably from another world." That's as far as she's going with Harding's story for the moment. "I serve as a helmsman." Pause, as another thought occurs to her. "Has anyone from a space travel-capable future mentioned the United Federation of Planets, or an organization called Starfleet?"

Her thoughts remind him of people he's met and as the vid-window disappears, his drink appears,

"No, I don't think they have."

His eyes keep looking tired and rather worn as he thinks about the times he came close to being thought mad for his mutation.

Edited 2012-05-30 05:50 (UTC)

Sariel doesn't miss that expression, though again, she's not commenting on it. Charles might be aware that she's noticed all the same, even if she doesn't outwardly show it.

That appearing drink has her considering her own. A murmured request to Bar yields a cup of what looks and smells like black tea with ginger. Some things, apparently, carry down the centuries.

"I ask because the United Federation of Planets is the association my universe's Earth is part of, and Starfleet is the organization in which I serve." That explains the uniform, and probably the insignia as well. "I know of at least--" a quick mental count, "--five others who visit the bar from my world, or a world similar to my own."

"I'm afraid I haven't met any of them, but I'll look out for them. No, that's not true. I have met someone, a Doctor McCoy, I almost forgot him. You see, I wasn't feeling well when we first met,"

McCoy thought it was a hangover when actually Charles was recovering from being in someone else's nightmare.

Nightmares are bad enough when you're in your own! Sariel knows this well. Not that she knows Charles's thoughts on the subject, however; she's not the telepath here.

That name is definitely familiar, though. "I've only seen Dr. McCoy in passing," is her answer. "We haven't spoken directly." Multicolored blood on her uniform - beasts flooding from a dark portal - River and an unfamiliar man protecting their triage - the brief wish for the rosary she'd given back to Gene.

Beat. "But my present is roughly a century in his future."

"I see, that must make things confusing. There are a few people here from possible futures of my world. X is one if you know her,"

She doesn't seem to have many easy memories and Charles takes a sip of his drink and traces where the vid-window is, it would be strange to not have this glimpse. He wouldn't be himself without his telepathy.

Edited 2012-05-30 06:11 (UTC)

Oh she has quite a few of those. Charles just hasn't gotten to see them. Darn subject matter...

Hmm. Unfamiliar name. "X? I'm sorry, but I don't believe so."

Sariel's now trying to think of female names containing X's. And sipping tea. And hasn't Charles's vidwindow gone?

It reappears as he didn't press the right button on it and just sent it back,

"Do you know of worlds with mutants?"

When the window appears again, he stares at it and rubs his temple, "I'm not paying enough attention today as I seem to have pressed the wrong button."

"I've done that occasionally," Sariel admits. "On the computer terminal in my quarters, and thankfully not my bridge console." The situation involving temporary loss of short-term memory doesn't count in quite the same way.

Pause. "Mutants? No, I don't believe I do. Is that a reference to genetic mutations of some kind?"

Best to ask, really. Her first thought, it needs to be said, involves radiation.

He presses the no button and she can see his choices before they disappear, he's not hiding them,

"Genetic mutations, yes."

"If I can ask, was there a--" She thinks here, briefly, of Arcade's world and the nuclear disaster that swept it, but then she gets an unintended glimpse of one of his choices.

Resistance is futile.

She knows that name. Not personally, not as he was then, but she knows that name.

It's rude to stare. Sariel knows this. Give her a second and she'll quit it. It's the window she's gazing at, not Charles, at least?

Her thought makes him blink and he follows her gaze to the window,

"No, they're a product of natural evolution. Is the robot from your world?"

"Yes," Sariel says. She's keeping her voice steady. "The Borg are a species with a collective awareness who combine organic life and technological components." Beat. "By force, on unwilling species."

She's not trying to shock or disgust Charles; that much is plain. She's well aware of just what the Borg can and will do, however. That isn't even getting into the man in her memories - fully human, sitting in the center chair.

((OOC: The tireds are sneaking up on me. I may be slow here for a few hours.))

(OOC: I need to sleep myself.)

"That sounds horrible. Our identity is our minds and how we mark who we are versus others,"

Its something Charles is incredibly aware of with his mutation, where he begins and ends.

"And our bodies," Sariel says. It's agreement, not contradiction. Sariel knows full well just how precious both elements are to a corporeal person's identity, oh yes.

Again, she's not trying to shock or disgust Charles when she continues. "A Borg vessel once attempted to assimilate species within Federation space. They captured and assimilated a Starfleet officer, and forced him to assist them, both as speaker and source of knowledge." Hence the name on Charles's screen, if he's familiar with Latin.

That's not the end of the story. That'd be plain even without telepathy. Plainer with it, though.

"Was the officer someone you respected?"

From the mental image, it seemed like it might have been someone highly placed as she seemed to have pictured a place of command. He's curious, but trying to not force her to go over memories she doesn't wish to.

Her memories are vivid and he sips his drink again, his focus on her as a compassionate listener. He will not turn away from anything she says or feels.

Not that she knows he's reading her thoughts. Yet.

"At the time, I only knew him by name and reputation." There's a 'but now' there, that's clear from sound alone.

39 vessels, all destroyed. All manned. She knows their names - of course she does. Nearly everyone in Starfleet knows their names.

"I was assigned to the Enterprise after his escape from the Borg collective." She's not trying for drama here. "The Enterprise... is his ship."

Locutus is not her captain. Captain Picard is her captain.

So many lives, he closes his eyes for a moment to process all those lives lost,

"And your ship?"

"Damaged in battle with the Borg cube," Sariel explains, "but not lost." She didn't know the Enterprise then. Not personally. She knows it now.

"The Borg vessel was eventually destroyed."

"He was rescued? Does he know what he did?"

That's a heavy burden for any man to carry, but it must make serving under him complex.

It's less complex than it would be if, say, he'd been a willing participant rather than an actively-resisting victim. As for a heavy burden... too right it is.

"He was," Sariel answers. Some of the gratituderespectreliefempathy she's feeling likely shows in her voice, her face or both. "And from what information has been released beyond the senior staff... he was aware, yes."

It's enough to know that much.

"He must be quite a man to serve under. I don't fully understand why I was given that experience as an option but thank you for helping me comprehend it better,"

Cubefall becomes ever more complex the more he looks at it. Is there a story behind the owl as well?

"He is," Sariel agrees, and it's safe to say that some of the darkness is dispelled by that question and answer. It wouldn't take a telepath to know that Sariel respects Picard immensely. "I count myself extremely fortunate to be serving where I am, and under who I am."

As for the rest... "I'm sorry that..." She's sorry she had to be the bearer of such a story, yes, but she's also sorry that story exists at all, really, and maybe that's why she trails off.

If there's a backstory for the owl, Sariel doesn't know it. That choice wasn't what caught her attention as is.

"You have nothing to apologize for, I appreciate understanding better,"

The other options sit there, far simpler but the third holds a story for him.

((OOC: Fadepoint for this one? These two absolutely need to meet again in the near future.))

(OOC: Yes, I think so. Thank you for a fascinating thread. They will have to talk again.)

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