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| The Sun Also Rises; 05/24-early morning - Moira, Sean | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Aug 17 2014, 07:50 PM (751 Views) | |
| Banshee | Oct 31 2014, 03:29 PM Post #16 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Nay, and she hadn’t been talking about the sausages, had she now? By the time Sean had his thoughts backed up sufficiently to get to be changing track and looked up at her, Moira was watching him, raising an eyebrow in that way she had. Nay doubt she’d had more than a wee bit of time to do it, but then you couldn’t hurry a train of thought. Or at least it was certainly something that always had been beyond him, maybe that was closer. Or maybe… aye, well… words were failing him a wee bit here too, truth be told. “‘Oh’, say he,” she told him, sighing in a way that might have been patient. Or even fond… or was that just his wishful thinking, skipping over those tracks again to remembering just how dear a grumble of impatience could be when it came from the right person? Oh he’d say though, indeed. And aye though, too. Aye, he’d say he was. Aye for her, as it always had been where it came to Moira MacTaggert, whenever he’d ever stopped to think of it. Aye, he was. Ach, now even couldn’t tell whether he was making a pint of sense. Of a mind with her, that was, and as he got to that point of the explanation, there was that smile he’d gone far, far too long since seeing, a wee one sneaking through there in her face, even with all the strain and the wear that it was carrying. The one that shone all the more for the weathering it had gone through and found a way right back down deep in his heart. Christ, and he’d missed her. Missed her, missed being able to smile at her, even as she made him feel still as tongue-tied and nervous a fool at forty four as he’d ever been at seventeen, just from smiling at him. Nervous… but aye, there was something else there too. Something that felt a little like a chance to come home, at the end of a long mission. Not to a place, but to a person, and to yourself, if that made sense. Sean wasn’t sure that it did, even to him, but he did know one thing for sure, even as he stood there with a spatula in hand. He was a better man when she was in his life, that he knew. And maybe, too, she could say the same. About him, that was. He’d like to think so, at least, but then… god, and he’d… …was she smiling, then? Not a lot, but maybe just a wee touch, there at the corners of her mouth? “Och, Sean, you know it is. Or should do," she told him not as brusquely as she'd meant to, half waving her fork at him, and aye, they were a right pair, weren’t they? Standing there in the middle of a conversation like this, with nothing but half-hearted gesticulations with cooking implements to show for themselves. No sort of prop for this kind of conversation, but he thought he rather liked it that way, come to think it. But it was better, aye, much better, when she moved in. Perhaps just to the stove, for she’d need that to cook the eggs, but whatever the reason, the nearness was a welcome thing too. Sean poked at the sausages a little without really looking them, turning himself instead to watch her. “I dinna say it enough," Moira admitted, more quietly as she set the bowl on the counter to look up at him. "But ye always have, Sean Cassidy. I'd be more of an old fool than I'd like to think I am, to throw that away for love of my own stubbornness.” Momentarily stuck by a rare lump forming in his throat, Sean had to swallow before he could find words to go along with the gaze he couldn’t have torn from her right now for a horde of teenagers stomping down the room. “Well it is a rare and fine stubbornness, to be sure…” he managed then, turning a grin on its side as he watched her, and quietly set the spatula down on the counter beside him. “Come here, Lass,” he told her, opening his arms to offer a hug, if she’d wish to take it. “I think I owe you more of these than can be at all worth counting, from just this week alone.” |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Nov 1 2014, 05:16 PM Post #17 |
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Oh, aye, now he'd finally caught up with himself, had Sean Cassidy and, for all her half-grumbling and sighs, she'd missed that as well. He had the right of it and, this once, she'd not refrain from admitting it. Mayhap it was the being taken somewhat by surprise by it, or mayhap it was simply because she'd a feeling she'd not admitted it enough. Whether he should know it all the same or not and whether the words had come with the manner of brusqueness she'd meant them to. There was a smile there, instead, marking her for the old fool she'd suspected herself to be as she reminded herself not to wave that for about quite so much as she might've. The kitchen wouldn't be improved with a splatter of raw egg that she'd only end up having to clean after. Better still to put it away, back into the bowl and set that bowl on the counter. Close that small space between them, as she should've made some effort to close the larger, more proverbial one that had wedged itself between them long before this. Her with her research and Excalibur running all about needing seeing about at any odd moment that might come. Him with his school and his children and an ocean between them. The space needn't have grown so large, but that they'd let it. Sean, he'd not been alone in that. She'd had her own part and, though his absence had been a hurt this past week, he was right in that it wasn't one she'd entirely needed to bear. Aye, her life had always been better for him in it. Even her own, stubborn pride wasn't so much that she'd choose to throw that away for the love of it. And so she told him so, as he stood and poked at the sausages, watching her with familiar eyes. Ones that had always been able to hold her as no other and Moira found herself caught in them again. Managing a smile for that welcome feeling and the man it had taken her far too much of her life to find. “Well it is a rare and fine stubbornness, to be sure…” he managed then, turning a grin on its side as he watched her, and quietly set the spatula down on the counter beside him as she made a dismissive sort of noise of her own. Though one still in good humor, since she'd no illusions when it came to her own ways. It'd been far too long she'd lived with herself for it to be so. “Come here, Lass,” he told her, opening his arms to offer a hug, and there was a sudden burning behind her eyes that had her blinking momentarily to clear it. “I think I owe you more of these than can be at all worth counting, from just this week alone.” With no real hesitation, Moira closed the rest of that distance. Stepped into those equally familiar arms and brought her own about him. Drew them tight and let out a soft breath. Relief and the easing of tension held for too many days when she'd been unable, and likely also unwilling, to let it go completely. Aye, it was certainly a better morning than the rest before it these last days had been. Everything might not be exactly to rights, still, but there was a good chance that it would be by and by. "Then we'll set this as a fair down payment," the auburn haired woman told him, smile feeling a bit easier and more at home on her face. Perhaps because she felt suddenly more at home than she had in a fair while herself. For wasn't that what Sean had always been to her? "And ye can save the rest to dole out as I finish sorting all the things that willn'a wait for seeing to." Like the four young souls who'd suddenly placed themselves in her care. Again. And may the good lord help her do better by them all this time. |
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| Banshee | Nov 6 2014, 11:38 PM Post #18 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Aye, she was a stubborn one. But as it was a rare and fine stubbornness, Sean couldn’t find it in him to let that self-deprecation go without comment (or a lopsided grin with which to deliver it). And she could snort, or whatever that noise had been exactly, aye she could. But if she meant to deny the thought, she’d made a poor choice of how to do it, for those sets of noises (Scottish noises, he’d always thought them) had long been another favorite part of life with Moira MacTaggert. Amazing, it was, how much more you could realize you’d missed a person when they were finally back in front of you. And he’d wait no longer, if he could manage it, before seeking to set aside what last of the distance remained between them now. He offered her his arms, only barely resisting taking her up and crushing her in there, just for the blinking sheen of tears forming in her eyes as he asked. Wait for her, man, and don’t rush it, for all you’re a great gawping eejit who’d like not to give her a chance to think herself out of it. For he owed her. For this week alone, he owed her a lifetime of this. But she came to him, stepping into his arms, bringing her own smaller ones around him as he closed his own around her. Tightly, closely, but perhaps it wasn’t just his imagination that there was something of an easing that came along with it. For her and for him… aye, perhaps relief wasn’t the word for it, and nor it should be, but how couldn’t he admit that there was a sense that still came, with Moira once more in his arms, the sound of her breathing and the scent of her hair more familiar than he’d remembered they would be. It was a sense of things set aright again, nudged back into an alignment when you’d never even suspected they’d begun to go awry. “Then we'll set this as a fair down payment," the auburn haired woman told him, smile feeling a bit easier and more at home on her face. She wasn’t alone in that, that he could say without a shadow of a doubt. Aye, and it was a good payment, and one he’d willingly pay as often as she’d accept it, nay doubt of that. Though perhaps she’d anticipated some of that, given the next that was out of her mouth. “And ye can save the rest to dole out as I finish sorting all the things that willn'a wait for seeing to.” Sean paused a moment, looking down at Moira’s expression and weighing his words with a little thought before he chose them. “Aye, I’ll be sure to do that,” he promised her. Whenever she wanted, or - because he knew her, and had for a long time, even if he’d apparently been working on convincing himself otherwise recently - when she needed it, because she’d not always been the best judge of that where it came to something as simple as a hug. While they were here, that would be simple. That would be for a while, at least, the way things had been going this week, aye, but after that? It could have been a despairing thought, but near as soon as it came, to Sean Cassidy it had quite the opposite effect. “We’ll make it work, Lass. As we’ve done before,” he told her seriously, tightening his arms about her for a quick space of breath. For when hadn’t there been one challenge or another that they’d had to deal with? Not that they were alone in that, in any way, especially in the company and friends they kept in their lives, but they’d had their own challenges, and they’d seen them through, one by one, and they’d done it together more often than apart. He didn’t exactly like to let her go, now that he’d only just got her back within his arms, but nevertheless, Sean eased off a little, enough that Moira would have no trouble to escape if she felt the need, or just to make it easier to meet her eyes when he followed through to a next thoguht. “How about you tell me about them? These four that came through from that other world,” he asked her, scouring her expression for signs that he might have chosen the wrong place to start from. “If you’d like to, I mean.” Not, of course, if it was too much, or still too close for her to talk about yet. But he’d like to know, and to be there for her, and this seemed (at least to him) like it might be as good a place as any to start from. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Nov 7 2014, 06:15 PM Post #19 |
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A fine stubbornness, was it? Moira'd no sense of how fine it might be, or if another soul on earth save Sean Cassidy would ever see such a thing that way. But the stubbornness itself was there and she well knew it. If he wanted to consider it something fine, then for once she'd not argue, for it was a mercy that he did and one she wasn't certain she always deserved. An old fool she might be, but a fool in general she wasn't, so she'd not argue the point, nor turn it away past a bit of obligatory scoffing that her heart wasn't in, all the same and she wrapped her arms around him without any real need of coaxing. He was a tall, sturdy man, was Sean, and sometimes she forgot how much so. Now, she was reminded as her eyes burned and he wrapped those great, steady arms of his around her. Held her in close. It righted the world again a bit in a way she'd not have been able to explain, but that was familiar and, aye, welcome, too. No denying that and she wouldn't have tried. Better by far to simply soak in the familiarity of it, too long absent. The scent of soap and the steady beat of his heart. If it was more of this he owed her, she'd not have an argument for that, either. They'd consider this fair down payment, and the rest he could hand out as he saw fit, while she sorted all the things that still needed sorting and that wouldn't wait to be seen to. “Aye, I’ll be sure to do that,” he promised her and Moira managed a hint of a smile. She'd certainly be glad of it. If they could manage to keep to the words they'd said, find a way to make it all work together without losing sight of one another in the process. Oh, aye, she wanted to believe that they could, didn't she? The world as she knew it, as they all knew it in some way, had been sent spinning topsy-turvy, and would be set on it's head a while longer. There were four young people who put themselves into her care, now. Again. Who'd need fitting into her lives - their lives; hers, and Rahne's and Excalibur's, and Sean's, too, or so she hoped - and may the good Lord help her do better by them this time than the last. It was a thought, and a hope, that brought a fresh spate of burning to the back of her eyes and the auburn haired woman was doubly grateful for the arms about her. For just that moment longer. “We’ll make it work, Lass. As we’ve done before,” Sean assured her, as if plucking the thoughts from inside her head and sounding as steady as he felt. Her own arms tightened about him in their turn. T'was something she needed to hear, and needed to believe. And had better success at the latter than she'd have thought under the circumstances. "We have at that," she agreed quietly, feeling more settled than she had in most of the past days this week. Just for this. And old fool she was for certain, to have held to her pride so tightly and let this go so long. But it wasn't beyond setting right and they'd seen each other through many a time of trouble through the years. They'd at least this one more in them. Sean drew back, then and she eased away slightly herself, tilting her head to look to his face. Meet his eyes and feel a sort of settling for that, too. An ease that came from knowing he was there and there wasn't that same gulf between them anymore. “How about you tell me about them? These four that came through from that other world,” he asked her then and she felt herself tense a bit again, more reflex than aught else. “If you’d like to, I mean.” That tension lasted but a moment, however, easing back again as Moira rolled that about in her head. There'd been so much doing and keeping going, had she even spoke to anyone about those four in any real way? If she had, it had escaped her memory entirely. "Aye," she told him after a moment and with a nod, glancing over to make certain the stove wasn't in flames, but it and the breakfast on it seemed well enough for now. "Aye, I think I would," Moira confirmed, more certain now as she smiled a little. Fondly, one might say, mayhap a little sadly or wistfully as well. "They're quite the group," the geneticist began quietly, eyes dropping briefly to some point on the front of his shirt, "Not a one of them like the other, and it's likely they'll set all of Muir on it's head." Though Muir was well used to it by now, at the least, though there wasn't the humor she'd intended in her eyes or on her face when she raised them to his again. The wound was too fresh as yet, "Watching them, listening to them, it's as if I'm watching shades of the past sometimes, Sean. Bits of broken memories I can't quite piece together." Familiar and not, all at once. But they were fine young people, from all she'd seen so far, and it wrung her heart to know the one's she'd known - and Sean would've known them, too, wouldn't he? Even if there were few to no memories of them left - had never had the chance they'd deserved. |
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| White Queen | Nov 9 2014, 07:10 PM Post #20 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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The halls were almost perfectly quiet, which Emma supposed was to be expected at this unseemly hour. Most of the mansion's current occupants were still curled up in their beds- or someone else's- and were likely to remain their for quite a bit longer. The only soul to pass by as Emma made the journey from her room to the central staircase and down was Bishop. The time displaced aborigine never seemed to rest. Or if he did, probably too his arsenal of firearms to bed with him. Stern as always, he made James seem positively spirited by comparison. It was a wonder he wasn't half robot. Or all robot, which Emma might have suspected had she not sensed the mind lurking behind that brooding mask he called a face. He considered her a threat, but then, he considered everything a threat, didn't he? The difference, of course, was that in her case he was right to do so. Men like him could be counted on in that regard. Dependable and consistent in their suspicion of everyone around him. Men like Sean, dear, forgiving soul that he was, however much he professed not to trust her, occasionally needed reminders. Emma had a feeling he might be about due for another. If there was one thing the White Queen would not tolerate when it came to those who could do harm, herself included- herself especially- it was complacency. Normally Emma might have indulged in a bit more beauty rest herself, but the relative peace of the early morning was a welcome reprieve from the near-ceaseless mélange of activity and nerves which filled every corner like the scent of wet dog. Jubilee and Paige were no less a handful now than they'd been on Saturday. If they didn't start to settle down Emma was going to give serious thought to placing them in a psychic coma until this was over. The blonde woman would have been out of her room sooner, but civilized people did not just throw any old thing on and leave their room. She'd taken the time to groom herself and put on a decent morning outfit- a long white dress with a side slit that nearly ran all the way up to the waistband and a midriff-baring short-sleeved shirt strategically arranged to expose one shoulder and bra strap. Her bare feet made no sound as they touched the floor, carrying her toward the kitchen. A quick scan before she reached the door revealed two minds within. Sean, who she recognized immediately. Perfect. And Moira MacTaggert. Well, well. Moira breezed into he kitchen to find them standing in front of each other, comfortable, but with a lingering awkwardness hanging over them. Like middle school sweethearts at a chaperoned dance. "Sean," Emma said, injecting plenty of honey into his name. She crossed toward the cupboards, flashing a pleased smile at her school's Headmaster. "Just the man I was hoping to see." She didn't have anything in particular she needed him for at the moment, but she expected she could come up with something if it amused her to do so. She pulled open a cabinet door and selected a suitable coffee mug, lifting her head to inhale the aroma of the cooking food."Breakfast smells positively heavenly, Moira," she said, shutting the cabinet behind her and heading for the coffee pot. Some of the sausages were a bit scorched, she noted with a quick glance, but still edible. Sean's handiwork, perhaps. Not that Emma could claim to be a good hand in the kitchen, but then, she knew better than to try. "You've truly missed your calling." It was no wonder Charles had called in his former lover, famed geneticist Lady Kinross, to work as a common maid. |
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| Banshee | Nov 13 2014, 10:55 PM Post #21 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Another challenge. Another set of troubles to be borne. But they’d make it work, he and Moira MacTaggert. All the things they’d both lived in the time since they’d found each other, and with that in mind, how could they not think they could do it again. Had they not done it before? The tightening of the slim pair of arms that had pulled around him was answer enough, counterpart to his own gesture as they ever had been, once they’d got to the same page. ”We have at that," she agreed quietly, and there was a kind of peace to that, Sean could hear it in her words, just as he could feel it in her body, close as it was to him right now. A relaxing, slight thought it might be. And one that came along with a moment that he couldn’t quite think how to categorize, and maybe oughtn’t to be letting prolong itself longer than this fragile thing they’d agreed to try to recapture could stand it yet. A little more distance, aye, perhaps that would be the thing to do, before he forgot himself. And a little more conversation, to keep the silence that they’d had for a moment as a pure and comfortable thing, one that didn’t end by losing itself and tattering into awkwardness. For he’d missed her, and that went as much for hearing her speak as it did for holding her. About whatever she might choose to talk about, but- about them, perhaps? Those four that had come through from that other world, and turned their own apart? Aye, perhaps not. Not with the way she was tensing - slight, aye, but no way to hide that close as they were right now. Only a little, aye, and that made it harder for Sean to tell if he’d overstepped his mark too far, or only found where it was he needed to be to let her start thinking about the things she might need to. Careful now, Cassidy, careful. Step heedful, like. Don’t press her, just… aye, let her know that it was her choice, if she’d like to talk about that or no. Her decision. Not that he’d ever really needed to tell Moira that. “Aye,” she told him after a moment and with a nod, and a glance for the stove, lest they consign another round of the meal to the charring. Nothing so dangerous as yet this time, though, and it was only a moment before she was looking back up at him. “Aye, I think I would," Moira confirmed, more certain now as she smiled a little. It was a good smile too, though it might have been one that held weariness with it, or at least the sense of being wrung through. Sean nodded, running his hands lightly up and down her back a little, in case that might help, and waited for her to find the words she was looking for. It didn’t take but a wee moment. “They’re quite the group," the geneticist began quietly, eyes dropping briefly to some point on the front of his shirt, "Not a one of them like the other, and it's likely they'll set all of Muir on it's head.” You had to smile. Christ, you really did, to hear a thing like that. “Ach, has Excalibur not done that job for you already, then?” Sean had to ask, eyes creasing with the ghost of a smile. The way she’d moaned, when that team had come back to Muir after their time at Braddock manor, you’d have thought it was a pack of wild yaks descending on her research station, but he’d always suspected she’d loved it all the same. And if it was still like it had been then, he had to imagine that the island never had once been on its head in all this last year. Moira had quietened though, by the time she lifted her eyes back up to him. More solemn now - aye, and more pensive too, and for a moment Sean had to wish he was still young and stupid enough to think there would be something he could do to ease that for her, and take away the pain that had clearly opened again for her, thinking on it. “Watching them, listening to them, it's as if I'm watching shades of the past sometimes, Sean. Bits of broken memories I can't quite piece together.” Aye, but he was a man grown now, wasn’t he? And he’d learned - the hard, slow way mostly, but learned all the same - that sometimes there was aught you could do but try to be there for the people you cared about, while they went through the things there was no way around but right through. Keep holding her, give her whatever comfort she could take from that as she worked through this, and try not to feel like a useless feck, that was all. “Ahh, Lass,” he murmured, voice soft. Nay more than that was to be, though. Not when the next moment brought interruption through the door, and in the form of none other than Emma. Perhaps he should only have expected that, and a part of himself that Sean was hardly proud of did have that uncharitable thought, and yet chastised himself for it almost at the same time. But even still, a good part yet found itself caught entirely unawares, and that part had him beginning to stiffen, moving toward jerking up awkwardly before he caught a hold of himself. He had nothing to be ashamed of here. Nothing at all, and he knew that. Aye, he knew that, even if he was having to remind himself of it more intently than he knew he ought to have needed to. Christ, and what was she wearing today? Was that what she chose to slee- ach, nay, never mind. He’d learned enough this last year to know that the only help he might find for himself even int he privacy of his own thoughts was in keeping from thinking at all. “Sean,” she said, covering the syllable in a layer of silk and velvet that the Irishman knew well enough to know to be suspicious of too. “Just the man I was hoping to see.” Jaysis. And would it kill her, just one time, to refrain from listening to whatever demon on her shoulder prodded her to speak without giving any indication of what might be on her mind? No way to tell if she meant it for true this time, or just because it had struck an idle fancy to dangle the suggestion of urgency in front of him. “That never has boded well for me yet,” Sean muttered, as much to himself as either of the women in the room, be it the one in his arms, or the one who he still couldn’t wean himself from expecting was only trying to get into his head. Well, he’d known what he was getting into, agreeing to take on the part of the responsibility for those teenagers. Or he hadn’t, but he’d taken it any way, and he was still here, and still working on that mission to civilize. No help for it but to keep going now, so he forced himself to relax again - nothing at all to be ashamed of here, in what he had with Moira, and he’d not let Emma and her knowing smiles make him think otherwise - and directed a nod of his own to his fellow headmistress. “And good morning to you, Emma.” “Breakfast smells positively heavenly, Moira," she said, abandoning whatever it was she’d been searching for in the cupboards and heading for the coffee pot in stead. Jaysis, what was that note in her voice now? Too pleasant by half, if he had any sense to judge at all. “You’ve truly missed your calling.” Christ, and this was what she wanted to do here? Sean never had been what he’d describe as a quick thinker, but in some things, even a gawping eejit could develop a few survival skills over the years, had they enough practice. This- well, aye, it felt like one of them - and he did his best to force his brain to cooperate at a decent speed. “Well,” he began, quickly as he could, and wishing it could have been quicker still, choosing to deliberately misunderstand where it was his colleague had been directing that observation, and shrugging his shoulders with a self-deprecating twist, “I wish I could say that was the first time someone had suggested I’d have been better off as a fry cook.” It was barely even a lie at all, too. That was the good thing. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Nov 14 2014, 07:06 PM Post #22 |
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A moment's tension, but only that. None of it Sean's doing. Only the touching of an old wound that still felt too much a fresh one as she put her mind to thinking that over. Would she like to tell him about those four children (though, nay, they weren't exactly children now, were they?) that'd been suddenly cast into their world, opening up doorways long closed and sealed. Aye. With Sean, she believed she would care to at that. Found a smile somewhere to go with that. For him, and for them, as well. They were a group, indeed. Different from one another as day from night, but a single unit all the same. Likely to set Muir upon it's head, quick as a wink and a smile. Her own life as well, but Moira MacTaggert found that something to smile over more than aught else, just as it seemed to bring a hint of one to Sean's face as well as he ran his hands along her back. As though she needed soothing through it. Perhaps she did, at that. A welcome, comfortable and comforting thing, regardless. “Ach, has Excalibur not done that job for you already, then?” Sean had to ask, eyes creasing with the ghost of a smile and she made some noise that was meant to be gruff but didn't quite carry all that much gruffness and perhaps a bit of fondness instead. "That they've done, and several times over," she confirmed, face set to something approximating a scowl but none of that reaching her eyes in the least, "My puir wee research station will soon be overrun and then where will I be?" In a place full of noise and powers and people always about some sort of teleporting and phasing and time stopping and who knew what sort of nonsense, but she could find no ire for that, either. Instead, the geneticist found herself contemplating a bit of Sean's shirt for a moment before raising her eyes again. Giving him the honest truth of it as she'd not anyone else. That being in the midst of them, watching and listening, was akin to seeing shades from the past. Glimpses of things ghostly and insubstantial that slipped away if she tried to touch them. Bits of ruined and stolen memories that were too ragged to piece together and make whole once more. Curse or blessing, she'd no certainty whether it might be either, or both. That she'd never even been allowed to grieve them properly, that sometimes almost seemed the worst of it. “Ahh, Lass,” he murmured, voice soft and that was enough, for what more could he have said. It was enough that Sean was there just now. A great, solid, steady presence. Though, aye, she should've known he'd not be the only presence for very long. For, just as she'd predicted not minutes ago, soon came Emma Frost, gliding (or perhaps slithering, like a great, peroxide pale snake through the garden) through the doorway on bare feet and mayhap more clothes than Moira might've expected of the White Queen this hour of the day. Or any other hour of the day. Sean stiffened, did some manner of awkward tensing, as though he was a lad caught behind the bleachers with an inappropriate lass and only half his uniform, that he'd sense enough to at least arrest halfway through. Still, it didn't spare him a moment of narrowed, green eyes before Moira MacTaggert turned those to the woman now inside the kitchen. “Sean,” Emma began, sweetly and with a smile Moira surmised was likely the same one that led to Adam's fall from paradise, “Just the man I was hoping to see.” Oh, aye, she was sure of the truth of that, at least. If not the reason's the other woman would project. "And so you have," Moira spoke up with a hint of dismissal in her tone, leaving the 'now you can be on your way' unspoken as Sean muttered, “That never has boded well for me yet,” Were she not bright enough to read between the lines, she could certainly pluck it out of her head, since she was sure to be poking about in there anyway. If she didn't care for what she might find, so be it. “And good morning to you, Emma.” Sean added as Emma rummaged about in the cupboards and started for the coffee pot instead. Again, Moira MacTaggert lamented that she'd not brought any proper coffee over with her from Muir. “Breakfast smells positively heavenly, Moira," she said, all too sweetly for anything but to foster suspicion. “You’ve truly missed your calling.” Ah, so that was it, then? Well, so be it. There was ire enough to spare, still, and she'd not mind spending a bit of it on Emma Frost. She'd wait til Emma was dealt with to give Sean that 'I told you so' hovering on the tip of her tongue, though she did spare him a significant glance. Whether he caught it or not she couldn't guess, since he seemed to feel the need to fling himself into the breach instead. “Well,” he began, quickly as he could, before she could say a word or two of her own to Emma Frost, and with a shrug of his shoulders, “I wish I could say that was the first time someone had suggested I’d have been better off as a fry cook.” A fine effort, she supposed, though it'd not sidetrack her if that's what he was aiming for. "Aye, Sean's a fine cook," Moira agreed readily enough, tone idle and as full of innocence as she could make it. "I've only made the coffee," she added with an equally innocent half smile to the other woman. She'd not thought to bring any with her from Muir, more was the pity, but Emma could think as she liked. Slipping to the side just enough to reach over and turn the sausages without moving away from Sean, the geneticist added, just as idly and pleasantly, "'Tis good to see you've not missed your clothes this morn, Emma. So mayhap there's hope for at least one of us." Or perhaps was that what she'd slept in? If so, it made an odd sort of sense, as much as any thing at all made a bit of sense when it came to Emma Frost, that she'd parade around in next to nothing during any given day, then cover herself to her ankles for the night. Though Moira suspected there'd also be some devious purpose behind that as well. |
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| White Queen | Nov 19 2014, 02:59 AM Post #23 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Sometimes Sean was worse than the children they were educating. As soon as Emma made her presence know the older man froze guiltily and she was sure he'd only just barely managed to avoid giving a start. It was a shame Emma hadn't made them psi-blind to her entry, only waiting until she was by the cabinets to reveal herself. Would Sean have just given a start, or would he have jumped clear to the other side of the kitchen. A pity she'd never know. It was so nice to see him this morning, and if telling him so gave him cause for worry and suspicion, well, that was just a sign that the early hour hadn't completely deprived him of his senses. "And so you have," Moira replied, her eagerness for Emma's swift departure evident in her tone. All the more reason to linger. “That never has boded well for me yet,” Sean said in a low voice, but not so low as to mean for Emma not to hear. Ah, there it was. The blonde woman's lips turned up in a slight smile. "You never know," she allowed with a slight shrug. Perhaps someday it would, even by his standards. The Irishman spoke again, offering a much more congenial, “And good morning to you, Emma.” "It will be once I've had some coffee," Emma replied. She swept her eyes over the available cups, eschewing those with gaudy illustrations or messages that barely qualified as "wit." Finally she located what she was looking for. Plain white, ten ounces. The way nature intended. Taking it, she made her way to the coffee pot while taking in the pleasing aroma (and relatively pleasing sight) of the food being cooked. Emma certainly appreciated Moira's work. For a famous geneticist, she made quite the accomplished scullery maid. “Well,” Sean chimed in, perhaps in an effort to intercept whatever response had been building on Moria's tongue. He shrugged, the motion slightly self-conscious and almost rustic in its own charming way. “I wish I could say that was the first time someone had suggested I’d have been better off as a fry cook.” That confirmed what Emma had suspected when she'd spied the slightly scorched sausages. And an admirable effort on his part indeed. "Oh, Sean, you're much too modest," she chided, slender fingers wrapping around the handle of the coffee pot. She carefully poured the dark liquid into her cup, leaving a bit of room for sweetener and cream. "Aye, Sean's a fine cook," Moira said with deceptive guilelessness. "I've only made the coffee," she continued with perhaps as close to a smile as Emma could expect to see directed her way. The former Queen of the Hellfire club returned it in kind. "I'm sure it will do," she said, carrying her now steaming cup over to sugar bowl and scooping one modest spoonful into it. The eggs and sausage as well. She'd partaken of Sean's cooking before, and she may as well enjoy an early breakfast before the rest of the mansion descended upon the kitchen like a swarm of mutant locusts. Moira extended her arm toward the stove, managing to turn the sausages while keeping close proximity with Sean. One had to wonder if they were keeping close now purely so it wouldn't seem any other act they took was on Emma's account. "'Tis good to see you've not missed your clothes this morn, Emma. So mayhap there's hope for at least one of us." Still with that casual, innocent voice. Surely she could do better than that. "Is hope so easy to come by, now?" Emma asked dismissively, leaving her cup on the counter as she strolled over to the refrigerator. "How disappointing. It's a wonder anyone wastes their time on it, if that's the case." Or perhaps it was interest in her clothes that came easy with the two of them. She hadn't been able to miss Sean's thoughts on the matter, with how loud he'd thought them. **Really, Sean** she added for his benefit, **If you want to know what I wear to bed, you just have to ask.** |
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| Banshee | Nov 21 2014, 12:53 AM Post #24 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Ah jaysis - and here, all of a sudden, he’d gone and found himself plunged from a moment right into the midst of a nest of cats. Or perhaps not cats at all, but… badgers. Aye. Or- nay, not that either, but some other animal, that never had been intended by the Good Lord to be nesting together. Two women, each of whom had a large part to figure in his life - though that was as broad a brush as you could use to capture the pair of them, Moira and Emma, together in one stroke and still have some claim to representing the world fair and true. The colleague he’d somehow found himself agreeing to work with a year ago now, on the one side of this room, and then beside him, the woman who’d been at the center of his life for long before that. Put the pair of them together Sean Cassidy had to suspect there was no telling how quickly a man could be led down to feeling like an unfortunate kipper, caught between and with slim hope of being any the better for it. Particularly as those tones of voice - too sweet on the one side, too calm on the other - had already begun, promising no good for any poor soul that happened to be in distance. Perhaps he should have headed off that search for coffee Emma was speaking about with a warning? The pot might not have been one of Moira’s ‘finer’ efforts, in the sense of a long life with her at Muir (longer for trying to avoid the stuff wherever he could, he was sure of that) made you accustomed to, but it still might not be something he could let her go without warning into in good conscience. But how to say as much, without getting in the middle of this (any more in the middle of this than he already was, that was), aye, there was the rub. Emma was complimenting the breakfast. Complimenting Mo on the breakfast, no less, and though it would have been a pleasantry under other circumstances, and from another woman, here? Oh, nay, if he had any kind of extra sense, it was tingling now, sure enough. Time to see if he couldn’t yet head it off, then. A wee touch of deliberate misunderstanding could route that back to him, before Moira had had time to do more than give him that particular look that boded naught in the way of comfort at all. So aye, he’d say it, and say it again if he had to, but he could only wish this was the first time to be told he was best suited for a fry cook. Exactly what reaction he’d been hoping to avoid with that, Sean didn’t know, but the second after, he had to wonder if he might not have miscalculated how bad it could possibly have been, because this might possibly have been worse. Both of them now, looking… well, aye, like a pair of cats getting set to purr. Christ and his bollocks, what had he done? “Oh, Sean, you're much too modest," [Emma] chided, slender fingers wrapping around the handle of the coffee pot. Sean opened his mouth slightly, though mostly because he was trying to think of a way to call her off of that idea, tactful like, but had to shut it again before he’d come up with a single one, because Moira was joining in now. “Aye, Sean's a fine cook," Moira agreed readily enough, and never that the Irishman could recall had a pair of ‘compliments’ from two attractive women ever made him feel quite so discomfited. How did they do it? How? “I’ve only made the coffee," she added with an equally innocent half smile to the other woman./i] Jaysis. And now the pair of them were smiling at each other, if you could call it that. Christ, of course they were, because Emma never could let herself show a sign that someone had got a trick on her, could she? “I’m sure it will do," she said, and went right on and picked the cup she’d poured up once again, while Sean did his best to keep the sudden strangling choked noise that nearly escaped him as something that could pass as a cough of sorts. If that was Moira’s coffee, all the sugar in that bowl wouldn’t do a thing to help her. Mo herself, aye, well, she’d turned away for a moment, turning the sausages he’d forgotten once more, just as he’d forgotten their singed and cooling predecessors, but she was back again to the fray almost as quickly. “’Tis good to see you've not missed your clothes this morn, Emma. So mayhap there's hope for at least one of us.” Jaysis, and she had to go there, didn’t she? Aye, and butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, either, if you believed that tone. Of course she’d ‘had’ to do it. Just like of course Emma would never let that go, without coming up with some kind of rejoinder of her own. “Is hope so easy to come by, now?" [his colleague] asked dismissively, leaving her cup on the counter as she strolled over to the refrigerator. "How disappointing. It's a wonder anyone wastes their time on it, if that's the case.” One day. One day, Sean thought to himself, swallowing an urge to sigh, and keeping the shake of his head to only a slight movement, for he’d learned it would do him nay damn good to indulge himself there, perhaps he’d learn a way to ease her to something other than putting cynical epigrams out there because she liked the effect they had on people. If not for her own sake, for the sake of the students he knew she really did genuinely wished to help. They needed hope. The very same way anyone did. For now though, he looked away - to the sausages, for whether Moira had just stirred them or no, they still seemed a safer place to put his gaze right now than toward either woman. “Well, it’s hard to call it wasted time, some might say,” he murmured to himself, without really expecting that he could keep the words (or the thoughts) from either woman. **Really, Sean** Emma was speaking in his head, the next thing he knew. Christ, she was speaking in his head. Why and all would she keep choosing to do that? **If you want to know what I wear to bed, you just have to ask.** Christ. Taking over his brain, in a room with only three souls in, just to try to make him uncomfortable again. Aye, that was his fellow headmistress. Jaysis, and there’d be no way he’d get through this in one piece, from one side or the other, would there? “Aye, and if I wanted to, I would, Emma,” he replied aloud, with just a trace of frustration in his voice that he couldn’t leach out of it before it became words, for all he knew she’d only done it to see whether and how she could make him twitch, “come on, now.” There was no need for that. He’d never understand why she might think there was a need for that, for there certainly wasn’t. But -aye, she’d said she was looking for him? Might as well be the time to ask her about that, then. “What’s up?” Sean asked, looking across the room, while wishing there was something to be done with the sausages he could have used to busy himself with, “Has Jubilee come up with another of those plans she thinks she’s kept secret?” Experience had taught him there was always one of those around the corner. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Nov 22 2014, 02:45 PM Post #25 |
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She'd come to see Sean and so she had. Aye, and Moira could only agree with the Irishman. It didn't likely bode well for him. Nor for anyone, dealing with the White Queen at this hour of the morn. Or any other. Nay, not a surprise, though, was it? Her waltzing through the door with a, "You never know," and an exchange of good mornings, once Sean had his wits about him again. Or something close to it. The geneticist suspected she'd timed the entrance, as she seemed to always do. She'd save the 'I told you so's for later. Right now, she'd not give the woman the satisfaction of moving from where she was and was glad to see that Sean seemed to be of the same mind. "It will be once I've had some coffee," Emma replied, searching through the mugs for something suitable to discerning taste, the auburn haired woman was certain. Though she'd have to make do with simple earthenware or ceramic, since they'd no fine crystal suitable for the morning intake of caffeine. And if the woman thought to give her some grave insult by saying she'd missed her calling as a cook, well she'd have to manage better. No shame in decent work of any sort and Moira had heard enough of the tales of Emma Frost's culinary skills to know she'd be far less likely to poison the house to death with breakfast than yon White Queen. There was Sean, though, flinging himself into the breech. Aye, he was a good man, and a fine cook, no good judge of when to leave a thing be, was he? He'd not likely deter Emma in the least and the geneticist, though perhaps it wasn't a trait she was proud of, knew he'd not turn her aside, either. If Emma wanted reaction, t'would be rude not to give her one. Though Moira did keep it down to a calm smile and claim of only making the coffee herself. Even if only that much did give Sean something of a pained air all the same. “I’m sure it will do," Emma insisted, going on ahead and pouring herself a cup. Something which sent Sean into a bit of coughing, poor man, and Moira gave his back a gentle pat before turning to the sausages. Aye, missed her own calling she might've, but it was at least some measure of relief that Emma hadn't missed her clothing this morn. For the sake of the young if not for her own. Mayhap that was a sign of hope for the younger woman, though Moira MacTaggert didn't let her own hopes on that get away from her. “Is hope so easy to come by, now?" Emma asked, all jaded dismissal as she strolled toward the refrigerator in what Moira had decided could only be her night clothes. It would be like her to go half clothed during the day only to cover herself at night. "How disappointing. It's a wonder anyone wastes their time on it, if that's the case.” A shake of Sean's head, minor but there, as he turned his attention to the stove and Moira gave her head a shake of it's own. “Well, it’s hard to call it wasted time, some might say,” he murmured to himself, and since he seemed to have the watching of the sausages well in hand, Moira turned her head, eyes settling on Emma again. "Tis' a poor soul without want or need of hope. And a poor life to go with it," the geneticist countered. If such a thing as this was what she was imparting to the next generation of children, she again wondered what in the good lord's name Charles had in his head to turn them over to her. Hope was a thing they needed above all, and hope was a thing most of them, herself included, wouldn't have come this far without. Moira turned back to see to the eggs with another shake of her head. It was nearly enough to make her pity the woman, if that was the way of the thoughts in her head. Nearly. Though the next moment consideration of pity for Emma Frost again went the way of the Dodo. “Aye, and if I wanted to, I would, Emma,” Sean spoke up aloud, frustration there in his tone and apropos of nothing as far as Moira could tell as he brow furrowed, “come on, now.” Gaze finding it's way to the other woman in the room, the auburn haired woman's eyes narrowed marginally. Doing he speaking into Sean's head now, was she? Well, then. "You've no need to fear speaking your piece aloud, Lass," Moira informed her, poking the spatula in her hand in Emma's direction. "I'm a woman grown and not likely to hear aught I've not heard before." Then she turned her attention back to her eggs, with a glance to Sean and a mighty effort to keep her eyes from rolling about in her head. How he stood the woman and her games without running mad, she'd no idea at all. “What’s up?” Sean asked, looking across the room, back to Emma as she went about setting the eggs that were done aside and putting the new ones in the pan, “Has Jubilee come up with another of those plans she thinks she’s kept secret?” Lord save them all from headstrong teenage girls who'd not a thing but a half-brained idea and too much time on their hands. "I'd not be surprised," she commented, pouring in the eggs and stirring them about a bit. "Hank McCoy caught them trying to sneak their way into the teleporter again late last night, and not doing it well for this try, either." Not that it'd deter them in the least. Those two would have another plan or twenty up their sleeves and ready to try out the first time they thought no one was looking. At least they'd perhaps given up the idea of flying one of the jets to another dimension, that was something of a blessing she supposed. |
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| White Queen | Nov 26 2014, 12:42 AM Post #26 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Moira may have prepared the coffee, but it was plain enough to see it wasn’t the coffee she would have preferred to make. It was sure to be passable in spite of that. Or perhaps because of that. It didn’t much matter to Emma which way the other two in the room chose to take it. One backhanded compliment deserved another, and Moira opted to go for the low-hanging fruit. It was almost quaint, like bringing a popsicle stick to a caber toss, to borrow from one of her culture’s dubious contributions to the world of sport. If an extra yard of fabric was all it took to inspire hope, how much could it really be worth? Surely not enough for anyone with sense to place any stock in it. “Well, it’s hard to call it wasted time, some might say,” Sean demurred under his breath, shifting his attention toward the sausages Moira had just completed stirring. Too uncomfortable even to own the disagreement himself, it would seem. Not so, Moira, who put in her own two cents on the matter, as though the early hour had put them all in a philosophical mood. "Tis' a poor soul without want or need of hope. And a poor life to go with it," the dark-haired woman stated. Emma sniffed disdainfully as she pulled open the door of the refrigerator and located the cream. “Not half so much as one without security,” the former villainess said, emerging from the chilled box and closing it back up. If they wanted to worry about their charges, and the thoughts coming off of both their minds proved they did, they might do well to remember that. Their first priority was to keep them safe and make them feel safe. That was achieved through action and it came from results. Hope would only make them more vulnerable. And Sean should know by now that he didn’t have to wonder what she wore to bed. She could tell him if he wanted. Better yet, she could put the image right in his head, though she’d tease him just enough to chance that idea on his own. All he had to do was ask. “Aye, and if I wanted to, I would, Emma,” he said with a fair amount of testiness. “come on, now.” Well, well. Emma’s lips turn up slightly at the corners in a faint smile that carried no innocence. Still telling himself he wasn’t interested, it seemed. That was half the fun. His remark had drawn Moira’s unfriendly gaze again, following Emma as she returned to where she’d left her coffee. The older woman jabbed her spatula in Emma’s direction. "You've no need to fear speaking your piece aloud, Lass, I'm a woman grown and not likely to hear aught I've not heard before." She turned back to her eggs. “I’ll be certain to do so,” Emma said pleasantly, pouring a measure of cream into her coffee and giving it a stir. Sean looked back across the room at Emma. “What’s up? Has Jubilee come up with another of those plans she thinks she’s kept secret?” It was a decent guess. She and Paige had been more defiant than usual since the wedding, and frustratingly resistant to every attempt to convince them their next attempt would get them no further than the last. "I'd not be surprised," Moira said as she gave the eggs a stir. "Hank McCoy caught them trying to sneak their way into the teleporter again late last night, and not doing it well for this try, either." One slender, blonde brow rose just a little. Emma hadn’t been informed of that, yet. It seemed she would have to arrange for another lecture soon. “That’s sure to mean their next attempt will be that much more carefully thought out,” Emma assured them. They were sure to move sooner as well, under the false belief that having been recently caught would somehow make the rest of them less vigilant. Emma took her cup and wandered over to the table, taking the nearest chair. She sat sideways, crossing her legs as she took her first sip of coffee. Adequate, as she'd expected, but that hadn't changed since their arrival. Emma was nearly used to it by now. "It's Layla, actually" Emma informed Sean. Their newest and most troublesome student to date. "It's time we discussed her integration into the school. She and the other students are proving more resistant to the idea every day." A little conflict between the students was acceptable, in Emma's opinion. Even healthy. Layla had earned their scorn several times over, and would need to be kept in line. Unfortunately, she was even more confident than even Monet, which made her nearly impossible to manipulate, and if the other students couldn't be persuaded to cease ostracizing her, it might not be possible to make her education work. At least not in the traditional sense. |
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| Banshee | Nov 30 2014, 12:26 AM Post #27 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Had he really been thinking just a wee few minutes ago that he might have got a hold on this morning? A right gawping eejit’s hope that seemed now, with these two women together in this one room. This one room that was feeling all of a sudden a good deal too small to fit three people, for all it had been built to handle a dozen people all cooking at once. Jaysis, and had he just thought of hope? For now there went Emma, waxing lyrical on that virtue as only she could. Well, his own might be failing him, for he’d not the heart right now to step into the middle of it with more than a mild grumble of disagreement, and his eyes firmly fixed on those sausages. No call for escalating it, Sean told himself, but he didn’t have a good feeling about it all the same, and… …aye, there went Moira, who’d never been one to let any words lie if she didn’t like the way they sat. “Tis’ a poor soul without want or need of hope. And a poor life to go with it," the dark-haired woman stated. Make that two of them. Of course you could, and neither of them were fooling anyone with those respective acts with the eggs and the refrigerator. “Not half so much as one without security.” The same old argument she’d give and give and give again, with half a chance. That was Emma’s offering to the aether. Her first offering to the aether, that was, for she followed it with another, this one in what had once been the privacy of his own head, and back to the subject of what she wore to bed. Aye well, if he wanted to have a part of that particular conversation, he would have gone and asked. Out loud, too, the way nature had intended conversations to be had. Not of course that Sean had any real belief that this was a conversation, so much as a tool in Emma’s ever-present need to see if she couldn’t get him off his balance. Well, he’d even less mind to bear with that kind of nonsense from her this morning than usual, and he’d lost most of that at least a year ago now in the first month of working with her. Aye, and there went the two of them again. Moira had deduced the telepathy, of course, though perhaps he’d made the fact of it obvious, if not the content. Small mercies - which was a thing he couldn’t add as a classification to either side of the ‘pleasant’ conversation that seemed to be going on around him. Certain to speak your piece… ah, jaysis, none of them were getting out of here alive, were they? Certainly not him. Sean tried all the same, clinging to the hope (aye, the hope, for he’d not close it out of his own life) that there might still be a way to see them all back to whatever business it had been that had brought Emma looking for him at this hour. Clinging to the hope that there was business beyond trying to trap him into admitting some kind of curiosity about her nightwear that had brought her here, even, but that one he was more confident on. She was better than that, and though they might not see eye to eye on all (or oftentimes any) of the decisions that were best for the children in their care, that would be her care. Who, though? Well, Jubilee seemed the most likely, did she not? That was true enough on any week, and after this one they’d had here, guessing at another plan from the Californian was hardly a stretch of the imagination. Though (perhaps a little to his surprise), it was Moira who fielded that guess and had an answer. “I’d not be surprised," she commented, pouring in the eggs and stirring them about a bit. "Hank McCoy caught them trying to sneak their way into the teleporter again late last night, and not doing it well for this try, either.” “Ah, jaysis feck,” Sean cursed, turning to look at her on the off chance (and it was a low one, a very low one, and didn’t he knew it) that he’d somehow heard that wrong. But nay, of course he hadn’t. And of course McCoy hadn’t bothered to tell him at the time, probably for some kind of fear those two could have wrung from that big blue heart of his about how no one could understand what they were going through. Christ, and he was probably lucky they hadn’t prevailed upon the furry scientist (soft-hearted mark that he could be, and aye, Sean Cassidy knew exactly what he was talking about) to let them cross through. Well, at least that raised line of a carefully-shorn eyebrow said it might be news to Emma as much as him. Was that something to be grateful for, or only more reason to find time to get a quiet word through to Beast that where it came to the children in their care, they needed to know more than they needed whatever scraps of sleep they might have chanced to get. “That’s sure to mean their next attempt will be that much more carefully thought out,” Emma assured them. Glancing back over the island at her, Sean took his own turn to raise his eyebrows. “Well, I’d say we’ve still got more than a little breathing room on that front,” he pointed out. Years in the police force, and… well, he didn’t like to think much of where Emma might have gotten her experience in spotting plots, but the point was that she certainly had. He’d hope - nay, he was sure - that they still held a trick or two over a pair of teenage girls who’d started from ‘fly a jet across Dimensions’. “I’ll talk to the people in the know about that webcam,” he added with half a shake of his head. Thinking aloud, but that was how he’d always done it best, “see if there’s a way to get Logan or Cannonball in there for a brief while to soothe them back toward something like sense.” Might be tricky, if what he’d gathered about the plans for a push in that world were true, but if Logan was back at that headquarters for long enough to snatch a minute or two on that camera where Jubilee could see him, Sean couldn’t help but think that might go a long way toward calming some of the wilder fears she’d slipped back toward entertaining. If not the need she (and Paige too) still seemed to have to prove themselves as the equal of any adventures. If he had to hear one more line about the unfairness that Sam and Shadowcat got to… well, aye, but wait. If that wasn’t it, what was Emma here for? She’d found herself a seat, and was sipping her coffee, like there was no rush. A good sign? Or another of her gambits? Christ, and now he was leaping at ghosts and shadows of suspicion again, and all she’d done was drink that bloody coffee. “It’s Layla, actually,” Emma informed Sean. Bringing him right to a stop quickly, both eyebrows lifting, then drawing down, fast forming into a wearier frown. That girl would be the death of him. Aye, and he’d said that about Jubilee, and he’d certainly said it about Monet, but neither of them had spent an hour yesterday- well, and anyway, never mind that, because Emma had that air about her, the one she wore when she was coming to one of her ‘points’. “It’s time we discussed her integration into the school. She and the other students are proving more resistant to the idea every day.” That one? Sean blinked, shook his head, then blinked again. “Christ. I thought I’d headed that off with a word in Everett’s ear,” he muttered. Did he even want to guess what kind of sow’s ear that could have turned into? It had seemed like a promising avenue to try to nudge - the lad had a steadiness about him, and a way of charming, or possibly just soothing the savage beasts. But likely as not, no good had come of it, for that seemed to be the way of the larger part of his decisions recently. Still, he had hope, and he had his wits (such as they were), and Emma had hers (however much they might scare him, and anyone with a claim to sanity), and with all of that, there was no cause to walk away from a problem, however much it seemed to have grown each time they turned their backs. “But we knew it would get worse before it got better, Emma,” Sean continued, with a placating shrug. “As it was with the six of them. So what do you suggest we do to encourage them to see it otherwise?” Best to approach the problem in a constructive light, after all. For in the end, wasn’t that what had happened with their six, who’d had nothing in common but the misfortune to be caught up in that business with the Phalanx? Aye, and it had taken time, but there was a bond there, and where that was true, it could be extended to one more, however… well, call it odd… she might be intent on being. He did believe that. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Dec 1 2014, 02:38 PM Post #28 |
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Och, nay, she'd have no use for something so frivolous as hope, would Emma Frost? Pity, in Moira's estimation. It was a poor soul without even that to hold them fast. “Not half so much as one without security,” Emma commented and Moira's green eyes cut that way briefly, narrowing slightly. Debated flinging back the rejoinder on the tip of her tongue; to ask if the White Queen meant that to stand for her, Moira, or mayhap for herself. Decided with a click of her tongue to let it be. For Sean's sake, if naught else. Not that Emma would have the same sort of decency about her. No reason for her not to say whatever peace she had aloud. They were all well grown and even from the White Queen it was likely to be nothing she'd not heard before at some point in her life. “I’ll be certain to do so,” Emma said pleasantly and yet Moira had the idea that she wasn't meaning to actually be pleasant at all. The sort that could keep butter form melting in her mouth while she sank the fangs you'd not seen right into your throat. "Aye, so you should." Moira commented in return as she saw to the eggs and Sean ventured a guess of his own at whatever this new, pressing thing was that had Emma down to the kitchen in her nightclothes at the crack of dawn and conveniently when she and Sean were having a moment to themselves. When otherwise the geneticist suspected they'd not have seen her for hours yet. Though she'd not be one whit surprised if it were as Sean suspected, and yet more with Jubilee. Or Jubilee and Paige, given they'd made another badly planned and easily thwarted attempt at sneaking into the transporter again late last night. Ye'd think even they'd know by now that on Hank or the other, or both, would be on hand to turn them about. “Ah, jaysis feck,” Sean cursed as Moria handed the plate with the first, finished eggs on them his way to do with as he saw fit. Feed himself or hand them off to Emma as he pleased, preferably before they were cold. “That’s sure to mean their next attempt will be that much more carefully thought out,” Emma assured them as Moira raised one brow back her way. Perhaps t'was so, but given they'd not put careful planning into anything at all so far, owing to the way they kept getting hauled back up from the depths of one sub-basement or other these last days, she wasn't as much in fear of setting Jubilee and Husk loose to rampage across a foreign world not braced for them as she might've been. “Well, I’d say we’ve still got more than a little breathing room on that front,” he pointed out, voicing her own thoughts well enough himself. "I'd think," she agreed, reaching to turn down the heat under the eggs she was cooking now. "Since they've not reached thought out at all as of yet." Only two days past, they'd been convinced of the need to fly the Blackbird through dimensions, despite the general impossibility. It was plain enough they weren't putting whatever tactical lessons they might've had to use at all. But when it came to Logan or Sam, Paige and Jubilee seemed to lose all sense. Couldn't blame the lasses for their worry, but if they could keep them from jumping or flying headlong into any open portal that might appear, it would be all to the good. They all had more than enough turmoil to spare without more on the pile. “I’ll talk to the people in the know about that webcam,” he added with half a shake of his head. Thinking aloud, but that was how he’d always done it best, “see if there’s a way to get Logan or Cannonball in there for a brief while to soothe them back toward something like sense.” They'd certainly be no worse off for it, if it could be arranged. Emma took herself to a seat, settling in at the table, and Moira wondered again what the woman was about. Not the minor issue of Jubilee and Paige and Hank McCoy's gentle, late night redirecting of their impulses, it seemed. Turning the eggs and waiting for them to finish, she turned her eyes back to the platinum blonde woman in speculation, then to Sean. "It's Layla, actually" Emma informed Sean and oh, aye, that one. The one that'd starting the turning of their lives upside down and inside out on a whim and a teenager's conviction that they knew best. "It's time we discussed her integration into the school. She and the other students are proving more resistant to the idea every day." And no small wonder, with the state of things. A blink from Sean, a shake of his head, and another blink followed. “Christ. I thought I’d headed that off with a word in Everett’s ear,” he muttered, though Moira had her doubts that such a thing could be headed off at all right now, in truth. “But we knew it would get worse before it got better, Emma,” Sean continued, with a placating shrug. “As it was with the six of them. So what do you suggest we do to encourage them to see it otherwise?” Moira gave a shake of her own head, looking over to Sean, and up. Too tall by half, he was sometimes. "Give them time," she commented, though likely it wasn't her place, but she'd dealt with a few in her time, and still was. Illyana and Feron alone could be a handful on the best of days. "It's been a lot to take this week for those twice their age and that girl at the heart of it. Ye cannot force a thing like that if ye've a hope of it settling down," Moira added, looking straight to Emma and pondering why it was she was so suddenly worried over one girl who'd had all of a few days to settle in, and a fresh mess she'd made still dragging behind her. Considering the circumstances, it was a bit of a puzzle. |
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| White Queen | Dec 7 2014, 03:36 AM Post #29 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Hope. In Emma's experience, such a thing did more harm than good, but there were still those who held the opinion that those who the sense not to bother were to somehow be pitied. Utter nonsense, and Emma would have none of it. Not from Moira MacTaggert. Their differences in philosophy wouldn't keep Emma from having a little fun with Sean, however. She did so enjoy their little game. And she'd of course speak freely if Moira insisted. They were all grown adults, after all. "Aye, so you should." And so they were in agreement. Wasn't that just delightful? Perhaps Sean didn't think so, as he seemed quite eager to redirect the subject toward what had brought Emma down to the kitchen looking for him in the first place, guessing that it had something to do with their two resident troublemakers. The news of Paige and Jubilation's newest failed scheme was unexpected, but hardly a surprise. They would of have of course seen the newly completed dimensional transporter as far too tempting. At least they hadn't tried to fly the blackbird through it. “Ah, jaysis feck,” Sean said, giving his response a rather colorful spin. He hadn't been aware of their latest antics either, then. Emma made a note to have a friendly word with Doctor McCoy. If he had the luxury and wherewithal to inform Moira of what their charges were up to, he could certainly take the time to discuss it with Sean and herself as well. No doubt they'd appealed to his softer nature to gain his silence. Emma knew them well enough to expect their next attempt (and there would one, she was sure) would be more thoroughly planned, at least as far as their efforts not to be caught. The actual logistics behind the scheme itself would be another matter entirely. Arched brows from both Sean and Moira were aimed the blonde woman's way at that, the doubt in their minds practically radiating off the mental landscape. It was only natural. The past few days had not given much cause to expect them to bend much thought to any part of their plans, be it avoiding detection or otherwise. “Well, I’d say we’ve still got more than a little breathing room on that front,” Sean said with an optimism Emma could not share. Most likely they had less, for the girls would think nobody would suspect them to try again so soon after their latest failure. They were sure to try to capitalize on that. "I'd think," Moira agreed as she adjusted the knob controlling the burner. "Since they've not reached thought out at all as of yet." "They can hardly put less thought into their plans," Emma assured them. Which meant they could only go up from where they were. It wouldn't do to underestimate those two either. They could be quite resourceful when they bothered to put their minds to it. Sean knew that as well as Emma. The redheaded man conceded no further than a partial shake of his head. “I’ll talk to the people in the know about that webcam, see if there’s a way to get Logan or Cannonball in there for a brief while to soothe them back toward something like sense.” Emma smiled with appreciation as she headed toward the table. "That's a splendid idea, Sean," she said, taking her seat and enjoying a sip of her freshly doctored coffee. In truth, it was Layla whom Emma wished to discuss with her fellow headmaster. The statement brought another pair of raised eyebrows from Sean, followed by a concerned frown. The name had earned his attention, to be sure. Now that it had been a few days, it was time they discussed the matter of integrating her into the school. Particularly, Emma wished to deal with the growing rift between her and the other students. It was understandable that they would shun the young lady for her hand in the abduction of those in the other dimension. Conflict and hazing were not only expected, but potentially useful in the complicated social order of teenagers. But there were limits, and they were fast approaching them in Emma's opinion. “Christ. I thought I’d headed that off with a word in Everett’s ear,” Sean said under his breath after a moment's silence to blink in confusion. Emma had shared in that belief herself. The young man was quite reliable in that respect, his nature quite suited to dealing with difficult people. Layla, however, seemed quite immune to his charms, and as stubborn in her own way as the others were in theirs. Perhaps even more so. Shrugging, Sean continued. “But we knew it would get worse before it got better, Emma, As it was with the six of them. So what do you suggest we do to encourage them to see it otherwise?” "Give them time," Moira said, putting in her own opinion before Emma had a chance to response. The blonde woman's lips thinned slightly at the intrusion, and the advice. This was her sage advice on the matter? Time. As likely to solve the problem as hope. "It's been a lot to take this week for those twice their age and that girl at the heart of it. Ye cannot force a thing like that if ye've a hope of it settling down," the Scottish woman continued, directing her gaze at Emma. Setting her cup down, Emma looked from Sean to Emma. "Ms. Miller, you will recall, is rather fond of treating time as if it were a convenient tool," she stated. "The longer they are left to work things out amongst themselves, the more freely I believe she will exploit it to put them against her." Layla was already proving to be more of a challenge than Empath, and she would not have another one like him on her and Sean's hands. Emma was willing to concede that it had been a trying week, and it was only natural for them to take it out on each other, but Layla's part in the conflict so far appeared more calculated than reactionary. As if she was encouraging them to despise her. "I'm afraid this is not a problem that will just work itself out," she continued, "and if they can't see eye to eye on their own, my recommendation would be for a common cause of some sort to help them along." It was the experience with the Phalanx which provided that crucial first step for their current students. Emma's Hellions had galvanized under competition with the New Mutants. It was a sound theory, though in this particular case, could be more easily said than done. Still, Sean had led with asking Emma her own suggestion, and so she'd given it. If she was determined to act on her own council, she wouldn't have bothered to bring the matter to him in the first place. |
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| Banshee | Dec 9 2014, 01:07 AM Post #30 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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And now he had a plate of eggs in his hand. aye, he should find something to do with that. Sean didn’t actually manage to do more than glance down at the glistening scramble in his hand though, (thank jaysis, Mo had always been a better cook than a coffee brewer), before he had to turn back to attend to what his fellow Headmaster had to say next. It never did pay to take your mind off Emma Frost when she was talking - that was when you’d find, next thing you knew, she’d snuck around and trapped you into something you’d never have agreed to if you’d been listening. But aye, in this case… it was nay so bad, really. And for all he didn’t think Emma was wrong that Paige and Jubilee would think their next idea out more carefully than they had this one, it was hard to worry. There was still some breathing room there before they’d need to worry about that pair’s planning, given the point they’d started from. From the looks of it, Emma might have wanted to argue that, but Mo wasn’t slow in voicing her agreement. “I’d think," she agreed, reaching to turn down the heat under the eggs she was cooking now. "Since they've not reached thought out at all as of yet.” “They can hardly put less thought into their plans," Emma assured them, which was a lot less argument than Sean had been expecting, to be honest. Especially given it meant she was agreeing with Moira’s assessment. Christ, and he’d never learn to decipher women, not if he lived to see out the next century. Though it probably boded no good, all the same. That was an easy prediction to make. “Aye, then we’re all agreed then,” Sean said though, hefting the plate of eggs to a little more comfortable position to carry, then looking for a place to put them. With Emma, most like - that’d be the polite thing to do, and all. “I’ll talk to the people in the know about that webcam,” he added, shaking his head but making his own way toward the place she was heading, eggs in hand, see if there’s a way to get Logan or Cannonball in there for a brief while to soothe them back toward something like sense.” “That’s a splendid idea, Sean," she said, as she took her seat, which was another of those tones that had ill-ease boding back out from Sean’s every pore all over again, for it was never harder to trust her than when she was smiling at you as affably as that. He left the eggs beside her, then beat a retreat - not a hasty one, mind… just a retreat - back the way he’d come, to where he’d left those sausages on the stove, while she got around to her point after all. Layla? Aye, and that brought him to a stop, surprise and all, though perhaps he should have seen it coming to. If trouble could be cooked in kettles, she was a whistling stove-top model all by herself, or so she’d been proving thus far. Though if it was her integration that was on Emma’s mind… jaysis, that was another pot brewing he hadn’t been expected. He’d headed that off, not two days ago - or at least, he’d thought he had - with a word in Everett’s ear. Well, clearly that hadn’t worked any better than any of the rest so far, but he’d look into that later. For now, they’d known it would get worse before it got better, the same way it had with their six. And if some days he thought he was still dreaming of a ‘better’ that hadn’t yet turned up where it came to then, others… ach, nay. Nay joke, but he was proud of them. Every day. But nay good would be served in trying to approach these worries of Emma’s in anything but a constructive light, aye, so… what was she suggesting that they do? Christ, and now he had not just Emma, but Moira, looking back over and shaking that fine head of hair at him. What had he done now? “Give them time," she commented, and jaysis, not that he didn’t agree with her, but was she doing this on purpose, trying to rile Emma by answering the question for her? “It’s been a lot to take this week for those twice their age and that girl at the heart of it. Ye cannot force a thing like that if ye've a hope of it settling down," Moira added, looking right over at the former White Queen, leaving no question of who she was meaning the greater part of that lecture for here. Always felt odd, to be watching one of those, and not catching the full force of it. He’d never gotten used to it - of course, it had generally been him in those green crosshairs, so maybe that was it. “Ms. Miller, you will recall, is rather fond of treating time as if it were a convenient tool,” Emma replied, from behind those lips she’d been pressing into a thin line while Moira had spoken. “Ach, nay. That’s Illyana, I’m afraid to say,” Sean spoke up, trying to inject a wee touch of wry humor into relieve the situation, if he could. “Layla’s the one who thinks she’s seeing the future.” Aye, and maybe she was. But as he’d always understood it, the future never had been a fixed thing, at least not in the worlds they lived in. Stare at it too long, it’d start changing on you, and wriggle away again. But you couldn’t expect a fifteen year old who’d been on her own and still had all the first flush of her powers to see it that way, could you? Or… well, he didn’t like that look he thought he’d saw come in Emma’s eyes, truth be told. ”The longer they are left to work things out amongst themselves, the more freely I believe she will exploit it to put them against her.” Sean frowned outright this time. Exploit time to set the others up to hate her? “Now, why-“ he started, then made himself let out his breath, thinking better of interrupting. It wouldn’t be right to do until he’d let her say her piece, would it. Aye, and she’d not let him have his peace until she’d had it, so he’d hold his tongue, and wait and see what was coming. ”I’m afraid this is not a problem that will just work itself out," she continued, "and if they can't see eye to eye on their own, my recommendation would be for a common cause of some sort to help them along.” It was almost a sigh of relief that Sean let out this time. “Well, that’s les-“ he began, until his ears worked through a little more of the words, and took them apart, and put them back together with what he knew of the way Emma saw the world, and the way she saw things like ‘common causes’. Then he had to cut off again, and shake his head. “Nay, Emma.” God, and that’d do him nay good, would it, to ask for her words, and then to act like he was refusing to hear them. Better backtrack, Cassidy, and at least try to explain yourself. “I’m not standing for any plan you’re making to bind them together by giving them something to hate more than they do each other,” Sean told his colleague then, hoping that was plain enough as a way of stating his position. “I’ve seen too much of that in my life, aye, and where it leads; I’ll not go teaching it to children in my care.” Us and them, it had caused more damage to his country than any hundred bombs, and with Interpol - aye, and with the X-men - he’d seen enough of it in other countries too, to know that it wasn’t some Irish disease. “A common cause, aye,” Sean added after a moment, reaching back to pick up the plate of charred sausages he’d set aside before, and not quite daring to look to Moira's eyes then before he looked back to Emma, and starting back her way with it. “That’s something I’d like them to find too. But that’s better forged when it comes with talking, and with getting to know each other. Not by setting them up against some threat to scare them into it.” Aye, and he’d not be surprised if he was to hear some kind of eloquent, carefully-chosen outrage that he might suspect her of any such thing, when she’d not spoken any such words aloud. But he knew enough to make that guess all the same, and if that was so… well, he’d spoken as he felt, the way he always did. He couldn’t do aught but that. |
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7:14 PM Jul 10