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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 (749 Views) | |
| Moira MacTaggert | Feb 12 2015, 09:48 PM Post #46 |
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Rare, aye. There was a word for any agreement between herself and Emma Frost and that was really all there was to be said for that. Better that the talk over breakfast turned to something other than that. To Terry and to whether Sean had managed to have any time with his daughter in all the chaos of the last week. Odd, for Emma to take an interest in such as that, but then Moira had learned to eye such an interest with inherent suspicion when it came to the White Queen. Likely, there were underlying motives. This one, perhaps, to take Sean off his guard, but he'd have seen Terry. Moira didn't have to wonder about that herself, no hear him confirm it. He'd have had to put effort into the task of not seeing her, cooped up in the house together as they'd all been. Then again, he'd managed it with herself, hadn't he. Emma pronounced that bit of information to be, "Splendid," and the biologist supposed that was so. As Sean said, Terry seemed to be doing well for herself, with X-Force. Aloof and a bit rough about the edges Cable might be, but Sam and the others, and Terry, seemed to respect him. For now, that would be enough. It was then that Sean turned to her, asking after the news that Terry might be taking herself from that group to Excalibur and, aye, so Kurt had told her. Nothing seemed set, but there was the consideration being bandied about. An nod and a smile from Sean that Moira returned, easily enough for all that had preceded it. An easy habit to fall back into, as it had always been, breakfast and simple conversation. Even when it was presently three instead of two. When they'd set out on this trip, and the idea of a simple, long overdue vacation to spend time with old friends, she'd no idea that they'd be returning with near twice as many to Muir. Now, it certainly seemed to be the way of it and there was a good deal of room to spare in the complex. More than they were likely to ever fill. Terry was as welcome there as the rest, if that was where her feet lead her. That Kylun might be part of that leading, well, Sean's daughter could certainly do worse. He was a fine and honorable man. “Well, I’ll admit I’d feel easier knowing she was around people I know I can trust to look out for her…” Sean began, and Moira's fork stalled in it's journey yet again as she was suddenly stung in a way that she knew he'd not meant. Even as he was already shaking his head. Even so, there was that brief, wrenching twist again, right at her breastbone. Only for a moment, but it served to remind her just how badly she'd managed to look out for those who'd depended on her most. “Ah, jaysis,” he sighed, “And I’d be more than grateful to you both if neither of you ever let her find out I said that.” Recovering, Moria eased away that momentary discomfort, back behind the wall she'd been building to house all the things she'd learned these last days. Confining it all for now, to come to terms with bit by bit as she could. "I'll at least promise to save it for a time I'd get a good deal more satisfaction from passing it along," the geneticist 'assured' him, though not without a twinkle of humor in her eye. “At this rate we'll be seeing new faces on every team," Emma remarked, her fork poised to take another scoop of egg and having partaken of the sausages there in front of her at last, “Speaking of which, I couldn't help notice how often our young guest from the Power family talks of wishing to be an X-Man.” Brows winging their way up again, Moira finally finished getting that forkful of egg to her mouth. Och, well, little Katie Power was but nine years old or so. T'was to be expected, she supposed, that the girl would see all this chaos and trouble as some kind of grand adventure. “Christ…” Sean mused aloud, half his attention occupied with trying to use the fork to break away a mouthful of the eggs, “After this week? Anyone think to check her head for bruising?” Aye, and there was that as well. "Still enough of a wee lass to think of it all as a great excitement," the auburn haired woman proposed, but with a shake of her head. The Power children had adventures of their own, from what she understood, but it was an uncomfortable thought for her. Children being put in this sort of dangerous life, powers or no. Especially when the proof of just how dangerous had been staring them all in the face for nigh on a week now. Then, of course, there was Emma. Who seemed to have no such concerns with age or dangers. “How would you feel about speaking with her parents to see how they would approve of offering to enroll her in our school? If she's interested, of course.” Sean chewed his own eggs thoughtfully. It seemed perhaps an overlong chewing and bit of overlong thoughtfulness, but she'd keep that opinion to herself for now. “There’s seldom harm in speaking to anyone,” he agreed, once he’d swallowed the morsel. For herself, Moira thought she might be of other opinions, but she still managed to hold her tongue. “Were you intending to be speaking there with me, or no?” Though that holding only lasted her so long. T'was one of her gravest faults, perhaps, but nothing to be done about it. Glancing up from the scooping up of the next bite of eggs, Moira MacTaggert settled green eyes on the platinum blonde woman. "And if they're of a mind to say no," she added, with all appearance of an idle question and unable to keep the words from spilling out, and admittedly not making too great an effort, "should we expect you'll be kidnapping her, too, then?" To Moira's mind, a fair enough question. There were at least two in this house right now that could bear witness to that seeming to be the White Queen's preferred method of alternate persuasion. |
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| White Queen | Feb 13 2015, 09:53 PM Post #47 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Sean’s concern for his daughter was commendable, Emma supposed, but he did have a habit of getting carried away. Residual guilt at not being there to raise her, and whatever strain that might have once put on their relationship. His slip was further doubled by the effect it had on Moira, who briefly stiffened as if her insides had just been caught in a vice. Emma reached for the salt and slid it along the smooth surface of the table toward Sean. “There, you are, Sean. Something to make that foot a bit more palatable.” The Irishman sent pleading looks to both women and sighed helplessly. “Ah, jaysis,” he said, “And I’d be more than grateful to you both if neither of you ever let her find out I said that.” "I'll at least promise to save it for a time I'd get a good deal more satisfaction from passing it along," Moira said, recovering quickly enough. Emma’s brows made the minutest of climbs and the corners of her mouth hinted at turning up in mildly surprised appreciation. If the geneticist continued to say things like that, Emma might start to find her genuinely amusing. It did seem as if the assembled teams were having a bit of a grand swap with each other. By the time they each retreated back to their various headquarters and hideouts, they’d all have new rosters. Which, incidentally, reminded Emma of something else which had been at the back of her mind of late. Little Katie Power, who’d somehow managed to persuade everyone to let her stay at the mansion until everything involving that other dimension had been sorted out, seemed to speak quite often of wanting to be an X-Man. “Christ…” Sean said as he hacked away at his eggs with his fork. “After this week? Anyone think to check her head for bruising?” Emma allowed herself a faint smile. “Well, there’s no certainly no accounting for taste,” the former White Queen said before taking the bite of eggs she’d been holding at the ready. Moira simply gave her head a shake. "Still enough of a wee lass to think of it all as a great excitement," the woman said. They were selling the young lady a bit short, in Emma’s opinion. From what she’d seen, Ms. Power seemed to take her gifts quite seriously and her determination seemed to have more to do with loyalty, pride, and some odd sense of connection than any youthful sense of adventure with little regard for her own mortality. Although to be fair, the child was only a year or so older than Franklin Richards. Doubtless there was at least some of that behind her motivations as well. With that in mind, it might be more to her advantage if she were around others more like herself, in an environment focused on protecting her from the dangers of the world, rather than thrusting her directly into their midst. Something like the Xavier Institute. Assuming, of course, Sean wasn't opposed to talking to her parents to see if they, and she, might be interested in an offer to enroll her. Sean took his time in answering, scooping another forkful of egg while his eyes seemed fixed ahead, as if the proverbial Black Dog were at his heels and he dared not look its way. Emma waited with all the patience that came with top class breeding, having another sip of her coffee before spearing another sausage with her fork. “There’s seldom harm in speaking to anyone,” he said once he'd swallowed the bite. “Were you intending to be speaking there with me, or no?” Before Emma had a chance to answer, she felt Moira's pointed gaze fix itself upon her. "And if they're of a mind to say no," the auburn haired woman asked with deceptive nonchalance as Emma turned her attention her way. "should we expect you'll be kidnapping her, too, then?" Wasn't she the clever one? "Oh, please," Emma said, waving the accusation away. "Are you aware of how many times she and her siblings have been kidnapped, and by how many? I don't follow trends, darling. I set them." She bit off one end of the sausage, savoring the taste as she chewed. Swallowing the morsel, she turned ice-blue blue eyes back upon her co-Headmaster. "If you have no objections, I'd prefer you handled it on your own. I hold a large number of shares in the company Dr. Power works for. My direct involvement in such a discussion could potentially be seen as a conflict of interest. And let's face it, young girls tend to find me unsettling, and you're much better with people than I am." Even counting the unfortunate confrontation with Everett's parents after their encounter with Emplate in which he lost control of himself. Sean had been quite blunt with them, but sometimes one had to abandon tact and civility to make one's point. |
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| Banshee | Feb 17 2015, 08:15 PM Post #48 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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If he just feigned to have passed right through all of that foot in his mouth, and left it all behind him, they’d all soon forget about it, Sean told himself, without having much expectation for that faint hope to come true. Small chance of that with either of these two. But they’d each made their point as best suited them, and (not being of a mind to provide any more rope for his own hanging) he’d sit here, and mind his tongue with his eggs. Or not, as it turned out, for he was still amidst the business of acquiring a mouthful when Emma broke in with an observation about the wee Power lass needing her head checked for bruising. Or… aye, that part was his own addition, as the first way of explanation that happened to pop into his head when greeted with the information that a nine year old had apparently chosen this week, of all weeks, to decide she had a hankering for joining the X-men. “Well, there’s no certainly no accounting for taste,” his colleague observed sagely, and aye, wouldn’t you know? There were things they could find common ground after all. Excepting the fact that she didn’t, and hadn’t, seemed the slightest bit concerned about the prospect. Not judging by the way she was eating away at her own eggs, at least. Moira had a grimmer cast to her features, perhaps, giving a wee shake of her lovely rich head of hair. ”Still enough of a wee lass to think of it all as a great excitement," the auburn haired woman proposed, which might be right, but… ahh, jaysis, he just didn’t like to think of it, that was all. Wee kids like that, running about wherever they felt, and without a word to their parents. Powers or no, it was trusting to naught but the Good Lord to see them through, and… well, even an Irishman had a hard time with that kind of faith. Which, Sean thought quite a bit later, he might have been telegraphing a little more even than usual, for what should happen but the next moment, Emma had speared him with a thought about asking the lass to the Academy. Which he should have seen coming, shouldn’t he? Ah god, Cassidy, when will you learn to be on your feet with these women? Do yourself a favor and give yourself a chance of seeing these things coming at you so you’ve time to think your own slow thoughts out? Well, this time, he did at least have a forkful of eggs that was about to go hanging, so Sean went ahead and indulged in chewing that good and thoroughly to buy himself a handful of spare change in the currency of time to think, as it were. Enough time to have thought through what he hoped was an answer that wouldn’t bring anyone to arms. Not passing judgement, or jumping on anything, excepting an opportunity for a wee touch of clarification. He’d very nearly got to the point of rewarding himself with another forkful of breakfast in the place of a sigh of relief, when Moira interposed her own ‘mild-mannered’ request for information. “And if they're of a mind to say no," she added, with all appearance of an idle question, "should we expect you'll be kidnapping her, too, then?” Jaysis. Did she have to go there, now? But of course she did. They all did, and probably he’d had his own times of doing it himself more than was ever going to be productive. But (as usual, in point of fact), if Emma was the slightest wee bit aggravated by the reminder, she wasn’t letting it on for him to see. “Oh, please," [she] said, waving the accusation away. "Are you aware of how many times she and her siblings have been kidnapped, and by how many? I don't follow trends, darling. I set them.” Sean only barely contained a wince, and stuffed his next mouthful of egg and sausage in his own mouth a wee bit forcefully to try to cover that fact. Ahhh, he wished she wouldn’t joke about that sort of thing. It made it that extra touch harder to keep up his efforts to put out of his mind, as ancient, long dead history, that list of the things she’d done (or let the others of her former organization see done) to children. “If you have no objections,” Emma continued smoothly though, while Sean was still occupied with the business of not spraying the mouthful back over his plate, though he cocked his head that way, the better to listen to the words she was giving him, “I’d prefer you handled it on your own. I hold a large number of shares in the company Dr. Power works for. My direct involvement in such a discussion could potentially be seen as a conflict of interest. And let's face it, young girls tend to find me unsettling, and you're much better with people than I am.” Finally swallowing at last, Sean lifted his eyebrows and looked across the table at his colleague. Laying it on a bit thick now, wasn’t she? Which generally meant she was trying to ease some idea she thought he wouldn’t find palatable by him, but in this case… “Aye, good reasons, all of them, I suppose,” he agreed, still frowning a little as he scanned back through his memory of the words to try to find the angle he couldn’t help but he was losing here. Because if that was how she felt about it… nay, jaysis, try as he might, he couldn’t find it. “I guess it may just be my brain getting old, or not functioning at this hour, Emma,” he had to continue with, while the train of his expression took another station down the tracks to puzzlement, “but those good and sensible reasons you just listed… how are they going to become any less valid if the Powers actually started to consider sending their wee lass to a school that last I checked, you had half the running of?” She couldn’t possibly think that he’d not bother to mention that part to them, or that Dr and Mrs Power, be they never so indulgent of whatever their children wanted to get up to, wouldn’t do their own research if he didn’t? Nay, she couldn’t, so all he could do was ask, “What am I missing here?” Unless this was all some prelude to finding a way to tell him that she’d decided to move on from the school? But that… nay, that didn’t make any sense at all either. Jaysis, where the hell had he put that coffee mug? Maybe it’d all be clearer from the bottom of a heavy dose of Mo’s abuse of the sacred caffeine vehicle. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Feb 18 2015, 10:11 PM Post #49 |
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The Power girl, still such a wee lass. Even for all the powers and adventures she and her sister and brothers had had, Moira couldn't imagine she knew the full scope of what she was asking to get herself into. Though, aye, you'd have thought this week might've given her something of an idea, even at the tender age of nine. Not that Emma Frost would likely agree with any of that, pass some cursory off-hand remark that might pass for such if you squinted a bit. The girl had caught her eye and she was of a mind to add her to the mix. The only question that left in Moira's mind was that of, if the parents weren't of a mind to agree, if they should expect her to fall back onto her normal methods of kidnap first, beg leave after. Something she perhaps should've kept to herself, the geneticist admitted, but that slipped off her tongue as an idle-seeming query none-the-less. But it was a thing they'd all likely prefer to know in advance (since it did seem to be something of a pattern for the White Queen) and at least they'd avoided Sean either choking to death or poking himself about the head with his breakfast. Not that Emma seemed bothered in the least. Cool as a cucumber was that one and the less Moira trusted her for it. “Oh, please," the White Queen replied, waving that away as if it were a gnat buzzing about her head. "Are you aware of how many times she and her siblings have been kidnapped, and by how many? I don't follow trends, darling. I set them.” Moira's brows sailed up again and she set her fork aside in favor of retrieving her cup. Well, she supposed the woman deserved some credit for the bald truth, if nothing else. She'd certainly had no problem with her part in setting that particular trend when it came to young, impressionable teenagers. Sean, meanwhile, seemed to be filling his mouth with breakfast with more force than she considered strictly normal, but perhaps that was as well. “If you have no objections,” Emma continued smoothly, and since he could hardly have any with his mouth full of eggs and sausage. “I’d prefer you handled it on your own. I hold a large number of shares in the company Dr. Power works for. My direct involvement in such a discussion could potentially be seen as a conflict of interest. And let's face it, young girls tend to find me unsettling, and you're much better with people than I am.” And, certainly, those were all fine reasons for Mr. and Mrs. Power to send their youngest daughter right along to where Emma could have all the direct involvement she chose. Only out of direct sight, as she seemed to prefer. Now, it was Moira's turn to fill her mouth with something in lieu of spilling words out of them. Sean, aye, he was right in that it was his own battle to fight. And so she put her attention to her coffee, feeling she'd need both the fortification and the caffeine before this meal was done. “Aye, good reasons, all of them, I suppose,” he agreed, though with a frown settled on his brow. “I guess it may just be my brain getting old, or not functioning at this hour, Emma,” Sean added as she set her coffee aside again, reaching for her fork and attention on the conversation more than her breakfast, “but those good and sensible reasons you just listed… how are they going to become any less valid if the Powers actually started to consider sending their wee lass to a school that last I checked, you had half the running of?” And there it was, the question she'd had in her own mind and she didn't mind saying she was curious of the answer. Sean wasn't so easily led, or as blind to plain logic, as Emma Frost seemed to think. A wonder she'd not learned that in this last year. “What am I missing here?” Or what was Emma purposely obscuring, or making a good effort at trying to? Perhaps that was the better question. Chewing her own eggs thoughtfully, Moira considered this, then yet again threw what was likely her better sense to the wind. "Would you be looking to retire, then, lass?" she threw out in her own turn, whether there was, in fact, a turn there that belonged to her or no. "I can see how that might appeal," the geneticist added, waving her fork at the other woman before returning to stab at her eggs. "Ye've put in a good many years to the task of teaching. Such things do tend to take their toll." Or she'd taken her toll on the teaching. That might have more of the truth to it, but if Emma Frost was eager to hang up her teaching cap, she'd be more than pleased to show her the hook to hold it. |
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| White Queen | Feb 20 2015, 10:42 AM Post #50 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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If Moira wished to fling Emma's abhorrent former practices in her face, let her. She'd have to do better than that to make the blonde socialite lose her composure. Whatever response she might have expected, Emma wouldn't shy away from her past. Nor did she expect anyone else to leave it buried and forgotten. Emma's mistakes were to be faced head on. By her, if she truly wished to reform her old ways, and by those she'd wronged to keep her in check so that she didn't slip. Sean may wince, and it was generous of him to wish to think of her in better terms, but she depended on him especially to ensure she held to the proper path. Whatever remorse she held, however, were not for the likes of Moira to see. She could think what she liked, but she could be assured that as far as Miss Katie Power was concerned, Emma had no designs to kidnap her in any way. On to Sean's question, then. He was free to disagree, of course, but in this case Emma suspected it might be preferable if he spoke with the Powers on his own. For a few reasons, which Emma shared, even going so far as to inject a bit of humor into the list. Sean listened as he chewed his latest morsel, though Emma could sense the growing, if mild, suspicion even before he swallowed and arched his brows her way. Moira, by contrast, appeared to put the next bite in her mouth purely to silence whatever comment came to mind. Suit herself. They'd agreed to speak their minds. She needn't hold back on Emma's account. “Aye, good reasons, all of them, I suppose,” Sean began with a frown, a sure sign there was another 'but' coming. He clearly had more to say, though he was taking his time about it, so Emma lifted her coffee back to her lips for another quiet sip. “I guess it may just be my brain getting old, or not functioning at this hour, Emma,” he finally said, looking genuinely confused. Emma quite doubted the former. His wits had proven more than sharp enough on any number of occasions where they'd found themselves sniping at each other over their latest disagreement. Why did he feel the need to ease his way into these things today? “but those good and sensible reasons you just listed… how are they going to become any less valid if the Powers actually started to consider sending their wee lass to a school that last I checked, you had half the running of?” Emma held her cup before her, peering over it at him, one brow lifted. That was a curious way of interpreting her comment. She ran her words back over her mind, just to see where he might have gotten such an idea. “What am I missing here?” Setting her cup down, Emma chuckled melodically. "Sean," she chided. "You make it sound as if I intend for you to deny my existence like some crazy aunt in the attic." "Would you be looking to retire, then, lass?" Moira announced, having swallowed her bite. "I can see how that might appeal," the older woman continued, and Emma turned cold eyes upon her. Oh, did she, now? Appeal to her, no doubt. Moira appeared to pay it no mind, going back for another bit of eggs with her fork. "Ye've put in a good many years to the task of teaching. Such things do tend to take their toll." "If that's what you think," Emma said smoothly as she took her fork and went for some of her own egg, "I should have to question whether you understand at all what it truly means to be a teacher. It is the one endeavor in my experience whose rewards compound over time rather than diminish. The act of teaching can no more take a toll on me than a drink of water could increase my thirst." What was more, though Emma often tried to deny it herself, their students were, in certain ways, as much a positive influence on her as she liked to think she was for them. She'd confessed as much to Angelica the last time they'd crossed paths, but Moira would hear no such thing from the former White Queen's lips. Turning her attention back to Sean, Emma lifted the fork to her lips and took a moment to consider his question while she chewed on the morsel of egg. What was he missing? As if it were a given. Setting down her for, Emma swallowed the bite and reclined against her chair, bringing one arm up to lazily drape over the edge of the seat back. "Regardless of whether I join you in approaching the Powers with an invitation or not, Sean," she began, placing the slender fingers of her other hand upon the edge of the table. "I would insist on nothing less than full disclosure. It may turn out they have no such concerns about me at all." Given all both Katie and her parents had apparently experienced, potential conflicts of interest and a morally challenged Headmistress might seem downright quaint to them. "Assuming that's not the case, however, there's always a chance they may find what the school itself has to offer intriguing enough to give us the opportunity to ease those concerns," she continued, keeping her tone calm and reasonable. "They may wish to follow up with questions for both of us, tour the school, meet the other students, or whatever else might help their decision, and I have no objections at all to making any or all of that available to them." That, of course, also came with the risk of having the opposite effect, of reinforcing those concerns, but that was no different than the risk faced by any regular institution. Shifting forward, Emma unslung her arm from the chair and took up her coffee cup again. "None of that will matter in the slightest, however, if they aren't open to her attending a school like ours in the first place." And he was free to interpret that as meaning a school for young people with enhanced abilities, a school with students significantly older than their daughter, a boarding school of any kind, or all three if he wished. "The purpose of speaking with them would be to establish that. And to make a positive first impression." It should go without saying that he was better equipped for that, just as she was more suited to speaking with potential investors. "I'm more that willing to join you, of course," Emma assured him, which he should already know after a year of working together, "so long as they feel comfortable enough to freely express any concerns or objections from the start." It would save all of them a lot of time that way. |
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| Banshee | Feb 23 2015, 01:04 AM Post #51 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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He was missing something. Sean was sure of it, and that musical little titter of laughter that his colleague directed his way as she set down her mug didn’t do anything at all to dispel that surity. “Sean,” she chided. "You make it sound as if I intend for you to deny my existence like some crazy aunt in the attic.” “Well, nay,” the Irishman replied, with what he hoped was an equal amount of good-nature, if a good deal less chuckle, “I think it was you that made it sound that way, Emma.” Else where would he have got the idea from? This was when he needed his coffee, he did know that. To hone his mind into something that might be capable of sieving whatever it was she was aiming for from all the words she was using to say it. While he was busy looking for that - ah, there, over by the stove still, Moira apparently decided this was as good a time as any to throw her shillings-worth into the mix. “Would you be looking to retire, then, lass?" she threw out in her own turn, though that probably wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking it was a genuine enquiry for information, even before she’d carried on with, “I can see how that might appeal. Ye’ve put in a good many years to the task of teaching. Such things do tend to take their toll.” Ah Christ, Sean thought to himself, wincing internally at the same time he was thankful for having his gaze pre-directed the other way (after clambering up to retrieve his mug), does she not know what she’s getting herself in for, looking to match wits with Emma Frost? Not that she wasn’t a highly intelligent, sharp as needles woman with a wit of her own, but she wasn’t… …Sean was braced for the worst to come back, only barely daring to raise his retrieved mug to his lips, so all in all, it was a surprise when Emma’s response came with none of the acid he’d resigned himself to be inevitable, under the circumstances. “If that's what you think,” she said smoothly, “I should have to question whether you understand at all what it truly means to be a teacher. It is the one endeavor in my experience whose rewards compound over time rather than diminish. The act of teaching can no more take a toll on me than a drink of water could increase my thirst.” The places a mind could go at times it shouldn’t. Sean’s, in this case, took an unwary dive back through his memories as it chose (for reasons unbeknown to him) to take that last a good deal more literally than his colleague had probably intended. Well, was all he could think, she’s definitely never experienced the worst kind of hangover, then. The kind that’d plaster your tongue to the bottom of your mouth like a pub carpet, and make every sip you tried to take their own form of torture… ..ah, he was getting himself distracted now, wasn’t he? Best get back over to his plate of food, careful to meet Emma’s eyes when she turned those icy blue ones of hers back toward him. “Regardless of whether I join you in approaching the Powers with an invitation or not, Sean," she began, placing the slender fingers of her other hand upon the edge of the table. "I would insist on nothing less than full disclosure. It may turn out they have no such concerns about me at all.” Well, that would certainly make it easier, Sean considered, nodding his head in a general movement of acknowledgement. Full disclosure, aye. Good that she’d insist on it, for he’d not truck with anything less than that, in this or any other of his dealings with matters such as this one. Not as a general rule, and certainly not after all they’d learned this week. “Assuming that's not the case, however, there's always a chance they may find what the school itself has to offer intriguing enough to give us the opportunity to ease those concerns,” Emma continued, calm as you might please, and only torturing her clauses into a few spirals that he could unknot without too much difficulty as she went on. Aye, the few sips of coffee he’d managed must be doing wonders already. “They may wish to follow up with questions for both of us, tour the school, meet the other students, or whatever else might help their decision, and I have no objections at all to making any or all of that available to them.” She had no objections? In spite of himself, and the resolve he made afresh every morning, to deal with his colleague in the right spirit, Sean found his eyebrows rising. “Oh aye, mighty magnanimous of you to grant them that,” he murmured softly. And him too, he supposed. Mightly good-natured of her to graciously grant him permission to do the only possible course he could consider taking in good conscience with himself. “None of that will matter in the slightest, however, if they aren't open to her attending a school like ours in the first place.” Sean nodded again, a little more cautiously this time. Aye, that was true. Merely as a fact of logic, that was true. Why was she bringing it up now? “The purpose of speaking with them would be to establish that. And to make a positive first impression.” There went his eyebrows again, rising onto his forehead. A positive first impression? “You’ve met me, Emma,” Banshee had to say, whether it was taking a turn to state established facts or no. “I’m hardly what you’d call a salesman.” Never had been, and he wasn’t about to take a fancy to start that now. “I’m not going to tell anyone anything except the truth as I see it.” Tom had been the one with the silver tongue, always. He’d been the other one. The one who tried to do what was right, the best he could. The truth he could tell, and he would. Whether that was a positive impression or nay… well, he certainly couldn’t feel to say after this week. “I’m more that willing to join you, of course," Emma assured him, while Sean took careful note of that comment with another nod, and mentally drew a line back to what she’d said about preferring not to, “so long as they feel comfortable enough to freely express any concerns or objections from the start.” Alright. Did he have that straight, then? After waiting a moment to make sure that was the close of what she had to say, and there was no more to come, Sean’s brows folded back down to a confused setting. “Now you are willing? But you just said you wanted me to do it,” he felt obliged to point out, then, as the thoughts in his head followed right on from there, shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. There was the truth, wasn’t it? The whole business made him uncomfortable, especially after the week they’d just had. “Jaysis, I don’t know, Emma,” he added quickly, “The students we have, we’ve taken in because they had nowhere else to go. Or a pressing need to learn how to survive in the world.” Some of them were too old to strictly be in school now, even. Paige for one; she was the same age as Rahne, give or take a month or two. But there had been a need, after what had happened to them last year with the Phalanx. For the ones they’d started with, and the ones they’d taken in since then. Which brought him, more or less, to looking across the table and putting utterance to the question he couldn’t quite turn his mind away from in all of this. “What exactly would we be offering this lass that she couldn’t get from somewhere else?” |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Feb 25 2015, 06:35 PM Post #52 |
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And now what was the woman about, Moira wondered, though she kept that wondering to herself and chewed her eggs instead, keeping her observation to herself. Including the one that might've indeed been in favor of locking the White Queen in the first available attic and tossing away the key. It'd been Emma Frost's own suggestion, after a fashion. Her self-restraint only lasted as long as that bite of egg, however, and though Moira knew it was against her own better senses, the words tumbled out all on their own accord. Was Emma looking to retire, then, perhaps? The appeal of that was easy enough to see (on a great many levels) and she'd been a fair number of years at the task. Perhaps those years were taking their toll. A thought borne out with some modicum of merit, the geneticist felt, when instead of the more than half expected retort (for Emma was so very fond of those), and despite whatever fumbling Sean might be doing with his morning coffee, she was met with something of an entirely different reaction. “If that's what you think,” the former member of the Hellfire Club Inner Circle began easily, though it was a wonder to the auburn haired woman that she didn't tumble back off her seat, so at ease she was making herself, “I should have to question whether you understand at all what it truly means to be a teacher. It is the one endeavor in my experience whose rewards compound over time rather than diminish. The act of teaching can no more take a toll on me than a drink of water could increase my thirst.” Aye. Well. That was certainly an answer, wasn't it, Moira decided, brow raising a bit suspiciously in the other woman's direction. Perhaps more than a bit suspiciously, at that, and wondering what, indeed, the bleach blonde might be up to with that declaration. Surely not any serious attempt at convincing her of the good intentions behind her great works with children. Something, however, to be sure, for all that she'd managed to seemingly equate teaching with a bout of diabetes. Och! No use to even ponder it, Doctor MacTaggert decided, with a mental waving away as Emma turned to Sean again, of course, picking up the discussion of the Power girl. No fathoming the working of a devious mind and she'd no doubt the woman never spoke a word without some premeditated intent behind it. That, at least, she'd not have to ponder, even if what, exactly, that might be escaped her grasp. Put it to the early hour and the interruption of breakfast. Turning back to that very thing, and her coffee (sorely needed at this point, if she were going to be expected to keep anything close to a civil tongue in her own head), she listened with half and ear to the back and forth, auburn head of hair shaking nigh imperceptibly but doing so all the same at the 'permissions' and proposals the other woman was handing out for Sean to do only as exactly as he would've anyway. A year with the man and she should've well known that, but then it was likely part of whatever game she was play, the same as all the rest. With narrowed green eyes, directed more at her plate than back at the counter and Emma, Moira stabbed at her sausage again with her fork. Aye, and now she was turning back on herself, wasn't she? Like navigating some sort of maze where all the routes were inexplicably blocked and turning about, back on themselves, with no real route to the core of it all to be found. What was the woman up to with this? T'was a wonder, if this was the daily way of things, Sean had kept hold of the shreds of his sanity, even with both hands, this last year. “Jaysis, I don’t know, Emma,” he added tone one of discomfort and the look of him, too, when she turned that way. Picked up her plate and moved a little down the counter. Giving them their space still, but feeling some need to close that gap between her and Sean. For, well, the good lord alone knew why, exactly, other than knowing and loving the man for a great many years and not wanting him addled to death by a devious head of blonde hair with her the other side of the room and her own throwing aim not what it used to be, “The students we have, we’ve taken in because they had nowhere else to go. Or a pressing need to learn how to survive in the world.” And, after the Phalanx bourach, they'd all seen the need. Even she could, and would, admit that. Not a thing that seemed to apply to the Power children that she'd seen, however. They'd a stable home, parents, and by Emma's own admission (or as close as she ever came to such a thing), experience in surviving. Though she, herself, still felt they were all too young by more than half to be running about in this sort of life. “What exactly would we be offering this lass that she couldn’t get from somewhere else?” Sean asked and Moira nodded along, sipping from her coffee again before setting it aside. "And there's the issue of her being so much younger than the others, as well," Moira interjected, reaching for the fork holding her sausage again. Feeling that it was a thing that would need addressing. "However mature young Katie Power might seem," and she couldn't say for herself, since she'd only seen her, and Franklin Richards, about here and there these last few days and those times she'd struck her as any girl about the same age would've, "she's still all of nine or so. It would be difficult, at best, for her to relate and fit in on any sort of equal footing." However clever, however mature for her age, or not, there were gaps on an inherent developmental level that couldn't simply be closed when there was that much distance. And she doubted little Katie would want to be treated as more a mascot than a team member. |
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| White Queen | Feb 26 2015, 01:44 PM Post #53 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Emma was a teacher, plain and simple, which was the only time either adjective could be applied to the former White Queen. Her interests may be wide and varied and much of it unpalatable when weighed against the morals of present company, but education was her calling. It was not something she was ever likely to tire of. Besides, did anyone really want see what she might turn to if she gave it up. Or roll the dice on how firm her commitment to mending her ways would be without that to focus her energies? Answering Sean's question was a bit more involved, but appeared she had to disabuse him of a few baffling notions. Whatever concerns Emma expected the Powers might have about her interest in enrolling their youngest daughter, the purpose of suggesting Sean approach them on his own was in no way to evade them or to keep them in the dark about anything regarding her or the school. Full disclosure, and full access to whatever else they may wish to know should they find the invitation worth pursuing. Emma would insist on nothing less. That statement prompted a rise of Sean's bushy eyebrows. It was rather like watching a pair of reddish blonde caterpillars performing Yoga. “Oh aye, mighty magnanimous of you to grant them that,” he said, not quite enough under his breath for the words not to ring clearly in Emma's ears. "'No objections' meaning it is neither my wish nor my place to interfere," Emma told him archly. "Don't misconstrue my words for the sake of a petty retort. I expect that of some," she continued, turning to give Moira a pointed look. It would have been more apt to direct it toward Katherine, but alas, she was still nowhere about. Emma barely held the look long enough to complete the emphasized word before swiveling back to face Sean. "But you are better than that." Even if he were to claim not to be above such behavior, she was not about to tolerate such nonsense from him. It was distracting them from the matter at hand. The bottom line was that first they had to establish whether the Powers were open to the idea of enrolling young Katie in a school like theirs. If not, that would be the end of it. Sean was willing to give that much a nod, though their appeared to be some hesitation in the gesture. Still, it served as an adequate contrast to the flinty look Moira was giving the discussion. They would also do well to consider how to make the best first impression with the Powers, however they approached them. Again, Sean's eyebrows sailed to his forehead. “You’ve met me, Emma,” he informed her. “I’m hardly what you’d call a salesman. I’m not going to tell anyone anything except the truth as I see it.” And apart from cases where the truth wasn't what one wished to hear, how was that a bad thing when it came to first impressions? Emma liked to think after a year she'd come to know him quite well. "Quite right," she agreed. "But you are a good man, and in general that tends to go a long way toward earning people's favor." She wasn't so jaded as to have allowed that simple fact of human nature to have escaped her notice, however little it usually mattered in the social circles she belonged to. He might wish to deny it out of some quaint sense of humility, or believe she was engaging in base flattery, but it was still the truth. She had told him her preference that she sit out the initial meeting came with the condition that he hold no objections to her absence. It appeared that he did. Very well. If she needed to join him, so she would, but that, too, came with its own stipulation. There was no benefit to anyone if the Powers kept any concerns to themselves because of Emma's presence. Sean politely left a brief pause in the wake of Emma's answer to his question. Not jumping in until it was clear she had finished. But the confusion was evident in the way his brows knit back down. “Now you are willing? But you just said you wanted me to do it,” he asked. "I still do," Emma said. "The two are not mutually exclusive positions." As she was sure he well knew. Even over the course of the past year, both of them had demonstrated a willingness to do that which was necessary, even if it went against what they wanted to do. Unease fairly radiated off of the Irishman, who gave his shoulders a shrug. “Jaysis, I don’t know, Emma,” he said, rather too hastily in Emma's opinion. One of her brows inched higher. Now he didn't know? “The students we have, we’ve taken in because they had nowhere else to go. Or a pressing need to learn how to survive in the world.” Both true, though as many times as their students had struck out on their own, Emma wondered if they might see that first point differently. “What exactly would we be offering this lass that she couldn’t get from somewhere else?” What would they be offering...? For a brief moment Emma's face hardened as she looked across the table at the older man. Just as quickly, she smoothed her expression and gently set her cup back on the table. "That is certain to be one of the first questions the Powers will ask if we approach them," she pointed out crisply. "As it will with the parents of any new student we might receive." The responsible, caring ones, at least. "If you're unable to answer it on your own, there's no value in me supplying you with one." Not to him, not to the Powers and not to the school. "And there's the issue of her being so much younger than the others, as well," Moira chose to say from her new perch further down the counter. It seemed she was willing to give them more space to hold their discussion, but still lacked the self control to hold her tongue. "However mature young Katie Power might seem, she's still all of nine or so. It would be difficult, at best, for her to relate and fit in on any sort of equal footing." Emma leaned forward as she turned to look at the auburn-haired geneticist. Did she honestly think that hadn't been taken into account? "Not so much younger than Claudette and Nicole," Emma informed her smoothly, laying the arm nearest her on the table. "Nor Artie and Leech, for that matter. Both of whom I understand Katie happens to be good friends with.” Folding her other arm in front of her, Emma drummed her fingers once against the antecubital space of the first. “Are you aware that her parents have already skipped her ahead several grades, putting her in an environment with many of the very same difficulties you’ve pointed out?” she asked. “Alongside peers with whom she has less in common than she would with our students? Or that her eldest brother’s activities on Angelica’s team,” whose name she refused to speak unless she had to, “has led to all the children feuding over the sharing of their powers to the point where their parents had to enlist the services of a psychologist? It’s possible that conflict might benefit from a bit of distance.” That would be for the Powers to decide, however. Emma had simply done her part in researching the matter enough to be prepared for it. Sean, on the other hand, was another matter. Emma settled her gaze back on him as she took up her fork and stabbed at another sausage on her place. “You do know, Sean. Either you believe there’s merit in giving the Powers an opportunity to explore or reject an invitation as they see fit or you don’t. I understand if you have reservations, but I’ll not have you sitting on the fence about it.” Emma bit into her sausage with a snap of her teeth and after a few quick, perturbed chews, swallowed the morsel down as she fixed him with an icy gaze. “Tell me, Sean. Exactly what do you think the purpose of our school is?” The way he was talking this morning, it seemed a fair enough question. She thought she already knew the answer to that question, but it was possible his views on the matter had recently changed. |
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| Banshee | Mar 3 2015, 10:36 PM Post #54 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Well aye, no ill-advised aside could go unpunished, could it? He’d let his tongue get the better of his good sense when Emma had started to speak as though she was granting permissions to him and the Powers both for things they’d do anyway, and soon as he had, there was an eddying breeze (as compared with a whirlwind) to be reaped for it, with the snap and crack of an arch lecture swirling about from his colleague. “But you are better than that,” she concluded after saying her piece about his pettiness (or was that Moira’s?), with a look that did every bit the job she might have wanted in reinforcing that idea of herself as teacher. Aye indeed, because that tone of commanding expectation took him right back to being a 9 year old lad in Ms O’Leary’s schoolroom whose urge to misbehave had grown with every lecture that grand old spinster had tried on him. A good thing he was a man grown now, then, and beyond that sort of thing. He’d tell himself that again,and hope it stuck this time, for now Emma was talking again, this time about making first impressions by speaking to parents, if they weren’t to have objections to the school in the first place (did he have that right?). Which was well and good, Sean supposed, except that this was him they were talking about. He wasn’t a salesman, and he wasn’t about to tell the Powers anything but the truth, such as he saw. That didn’t even faze her, which might not be a sign that he was anywhere close to safe territory here, but what could he do but try? “Quite right," she agreed. "But you are a good man, and in general that tends to go a long way toward earning people's favor.” Not knowing what to say to that, Sean looked down at his plate of food. Jaysis, so that was it; now she was trying to make a commodity out of his morals, like they were a slick haircut or a charming smile, only there to be trotted out and used whenever they might suit her purposes. It was nearly enough to make you feel dirtied for just trying to be yourself. Nay, alright, maybe he was overreacting there, but it had certainly been enough to render the food on his plate not nearly so appetizing as it had looked only a handful of seconds before. Maybe she sensed that, or maybe she didn’t - Sean couldn’t be sure one way or another, but a second or so later she was announcing that she was now ‘more than willing’ to join him in talking there. Except she’d just said she wanted him to do it, and that he felt he had to point out, along with an uncomfortable shrug that might make his confusion a little clearer. “I still do," Emma said. "The two are not mutually exclusive positions.” Pursing his lips, Sean nodded. What else could he do? Maybe in the complicated world of grays she lived in, that was absolutely true, and all of that. From where he was sitting though, and this early in the morning, it was still getting a bit hard to follow. He just… well… he didn’t… …aye, that was it. Or as close to it as his mind would come. He didn’t know. Which didn’t make him feel good to admit at all, and nor did the expression he was getting for his trouble from Emma, arched brow. Ah, maybe he deserved that, who knew? Mo, though, she was looking at him too, but not like that. More in a way that could have been anything, except she lifted her plate and moved herself a wee ways down the counter toward him. Lord, and he appreciated that, though it might have been as subtle a vote of confidence as you could imagine. Still, it was enough to help him bully his own reluctant thoughts into something like a coherent sentence or two. About the students they had, the ones they’d taken in because they had nowhere else to go, and nowhere else to teach them anything about how to survive. They’d done that… but… what would they be offering now, to the Power lass, that she couldn’t get elsewhere? There was ice behind the White Queen’s expression for a split second, after he’d said it. Then it was gone again - not thawed, Sean would have hazarded, had been asked, but rather stored away, insulated from the light, and his colleague’s expression was back to the smooth blank poise she liked to practice. ”That is certain to be one of the first questions the Powers will ask if we approach them," she pointed out crisply. "As it will with the parents of any new student we might receive.” Sean tried, but failed to keep his eyebrows from folding downward again. Any new student? “If you're unable to answer it on your own, there's no value in me supplying you with one.” Alright, Sean told himself, keeping his eyes trained on Emma’s for a moment. That… nay, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to make of that. Another schoolteacher trick, to guilt him into trying harder to give her what she was expecting? Moira cut the moment short though, and gods-be, he was grateful for that, because while it might be memories of Ms. O’Leary again, Sean hadn’t much like his chances of getting out of that look without a ruler to the back of his hand. “And there's the issue of her being so much younger than the others, as well,” Mo said though, and that took the pressure off, as she went on to point out that the lass was nine, and as such, not necessarily poised to fit in with students that were for the most part a decade or near to it older than her. Emma had an answer to that, as she usually (or was that always?) did. “Not so much younger than Claudette and Nicole," Emma informed her smoothly, with no more sign of ruffling than she’d shown before.“Nor Artie and Leech, for that matter. Both of whom I understand Katie happens to be good friends with.” Ahhhh. What were the chances he’d get lucky enough to insert a word in here? “About that…” Sean began, but too slowly, for Emma was on a roll, and her attention was fixed squarely on Moira. “Are you aware that her parents have already skipped her ahead several grades, putting her in an environment with many of the very same difficulties you’ve pointed out?” she asked and then kept going, trotting out more of the same, with a level of detail that only grew finer as she went on to mention the lass’ difficulties with particular older siblings, or perhaps with all of them. And psychologists too. Jaysis. That was an awful lot of details she already knew about a proposal she’d just casually thrown out to him as possibility not five minutes ago. And if she’d been telling the truth about how young girls felt about her, how had she happened to get all that information, exactly? “Ah lord, where…” Sean starting, meaning to ask about that directly, but his hesitant words dried up entirely as Emma’s gaze flipped round fast as an owl on the hunt, and pinned him as surely as the sausage she’d spiked at the same time. “You do know, Sean. Either you believe there’s merit in giving the Powers an opportunity to explore or reject an invitation as they see fit or you don’t. I understand if you have reservations, but I’ll not have you sitting on the fence about it.” And as if to punctuate one possibility for how she might plan to enforce that, her teeth closed sharply around the end of the sausage, and she began to chew in a way that Sean had to think was calculated to make any man feel a wee bit more conscious of the way he was sitting, if you caught his drift. Still, after a year, you did begin to get used to certain things, and one of them was the ways Emma Frost went about intimidation. So Sean only eyed the mutilated sausage a little uneasily for a second before putting it out of his mind. “I see,” he replied, neutral as he could make the words. “You understand if I have them, except I’m not actually allowed to have any of them at all.” For what could you do when you had reservations, but hold up a little till you’d at least had a chance to work through them? Well, it wasn’t to be though. Not now, for there went that bite of sausage, swallowed neatly, and the brief respite (if that was what you could call it) that it had earned him was over in the speed of another clipped question. “Tell me, Sean. Exactly what do you think the purpose of our school is?” The purpose of the school. “Jaysis…” Sean heard himself say, and had to wonder if there was any reason for it except to buy himself a wee bit of time to gather his thoughts. He didn’t look to Mo though, despite the fact that he very much wanted to. It couldn’t do any of them any good right now could it? And he… but… well… …Ahhh Christ. Emma was right, wasn’t she? Came the time when you had to step up and admit to the thoughts that you’d been trying to tell yourself weren’t in your head, and after his attempts to mentally excuse himself fell apart in his mind, Sean had to admit that this might well be one of them. “Well,” he began again, but with some of the conviction he’d lacked before, and that growing as he kept on, “and to be honest, I don’t know, Emma, whether you like me admitting that or not,” he told her, plain as he could. “I thought that the reason I’ve been at the school was because I saw some children that were hurt and needing help, and because a man who I trusted as a friend asked me to be there to help them,” Sean continued, pausing for a quick moment to glance toward Moira before he looked back to his colleague and went on to the point of that, “and now, I’ve found out that the entire reason I’d known him was based on lies he put in my head and in other people’s, after he got four teenagers in his care killed.” All of that, since Krakoa. Or before that, even. Jaysis, how much of any of it had been real? Shaking his head, Sean pushed the plate of food he’d stopped touching a while back away from him, then made himself raise his eyes back again to his colleague’s. “So nay,” he explained, “I don’t know what the purpose of this school he had us set up is. And I don’t much like to think about what it might be.” Because everything that the man had ever done, especially where it came to training teenagers… that all felt like it might be tainted now. At least to him. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Mar 5 2015, 04:04 PM Post #55 |
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Aye, and there was the question. What was the White Queen of the former Hellfire Club - and, by some circumstance Moira freely admitted she'd never managed to completely untangle and bundle into a tidy box of strictly making sense, now co-headmistress of The Xavier Insititute for Gifted Youngsters in Massachusetts - thinking to offer the Power family, and Katie, that wasn't' already there? A snap of irritation crossed Emma's features for the briefest moment. There and gone again just that quickly, but the auburn haired woman noted its passing all the same. ”That is certain to be one of the first questions the Powers will ask if we approach them," [Emma] pointed out crisply. "As it will with the parents of any new student we might receive.” Which was true enough, but not any sort of answer. "If you're unable to answer it on your own, there's no value in me supplying you with one.” Taking a bite from her own sausage, the geneticist's brows lifted upward. And neither, in point of fact, was that any sort of answer. It was nothing so much as doing a jig about in circles and stomping on your partners feet so as to distract from the fact you'd not learned the steps yourself. Well, then, perhaps she'd throw something of a point of her own into the mix. For all her enthusiasm, and supposed experience, Katie was still but about nine years old. More than passing younger than the others and not so easily fit into the lives of teenagers who'd likely see her as something of a mascot, at best. "Not so much younger than Claudette and Nicole," Emma informed her having found some sort of answer for that to pull from her hat. “Nor Artie and Leech, for that matter. Both of whom I understand Katie happens to be good friends with.” Aye, well, that was certainly an answer. Of sorts. One brow lifted a little higher at Emma Frost's choice of examples. The bourach with the St. Croix's wasn't exactly a stellar example she'd be parading out to prospective parents or anyone else. “About that…” Sean began, but nay. Emma was on something of a roll now, though the more she went on to 'explain' how Katie Power would be her idea of a perfect candidate for the school, the more Moira's brows lifted until they were fair to being at the top of her head. Och, what in the name of the good lord had the woman been up to, to know the life and happenings of a nine year old girl in that sort of detail? The uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach suggested that t'wasn't nothing any good could come of and the auburn haired woman slid her eyes toward Sean as he tried to wedge a word in edgewise. “Ah lord, where…” he began, only to have Emma flip her attention his way before he could finish. “You do know, Sean. Either you believe there’s merit in giving the Powers an opportunity to explore or reject an invitation as they see fit or you don’t. I understand if you have reservations, but I’ll not have you sitting on the fence about it.” Moira's fork clattered to her plate, her own gaze snapping back to Emma Frost as the woman snapped her teeth together on a sausage. "You'll not have-" she seethed, or began to, though she managed to cut herself off so as not to walk over Sean himself. Aye, and so now they were to finally see her true colors peeking through. Or, she pondered, mayhap they were but seeing Emma Frosts 'rehabilitation' begin to wear thin. The notion sent a chill down her spine then settled in to take up residence. “I see,” Sean replied in a tone that was flat and should tell the other woman more than those two words alone - that she was treading on thinning ice - if she'd pay it any heed at all. “You understand if I have them, except I’m not actually allowed to have any of them at all.” Still watching the two, and holding her own tongue by only the thinnest of threads, she picked her fork up out of her plate again. “Tell me, Sean. Exactly what do you think the purpose of our school is?” That was Emma's next question and, just then, Moira would've liked to have turned that around. Asked the same of the woman in white. “Jaysis…” Sean swore and there was exasperation there to her ears. And little wonder. “Well,” he began again, sounding steadier with himself now. and to be honest, I don’t know, Emma, whether you like me admitting that or not,” he told her, plain as he could. “I thought that the reason I’ve been at the school was because I saw some children that were hurt and needing help, and because a man who I trusted as a friend asked me to be there to help them,” his eyes turned her way and Moira met them. Gave a small, agreeing nod. T'was what they'd all thought, at least as far as she, herself, knew. Though now there was more than a shadow of doubt cast upon that. Dark and growing steadily, “and now, I’ve found out that the entire reason I’d known him was based on lies he put in my head and in other people’s, after he got four teenagers in his care killed.” Head dropping, the auburn haired woman poked at her sausage again with her fork, though she'd lost any real appetite for it. Instead, she frowned down at it, wondering again at what things Charles, someone they'd all trusted implicitly, might've worked to his own purposes, or simply made vanish from their minds and memories, they'd yet to discover. And if that was a thing any of them really wanted to know the extent of. There was the scrape of plate on counter and Sean's voice again. “So nay,” he explained, “I don’t know what the purpose of this school he had us set up is. And I don’t much like to think about what it might be.” Looking up from her own plate again, then pushing it to the side, much as Sean seemed to have pushed his own away, Moira settled her eyes on Emma again. "Mayhap you should ask that question of yourself, Lass," she suggested to Emma, "Then ask yourself again where the answer that comes to you might've sprung from. And, of all times, why you're so set on bringing more children who've other, more suitable options at hand into the school just now." Other than a determination to get her own way, since Emma seemed far too used to that. But what parent in their right blessed mind would want their child sunk into the middle of this upheaval if there was no need for them to be, whatever the child itself might think or prefer, Moira wondered, turning her eyes back to Sean. They were still children, after all, and no matter how high their IQ, not always suited to making the best choices. They'd seen that first hand with others of this lot. And after what she'd just seen and heard here? Nay, she trusted Emma Frost's motivations and intentions even less than when she'd first stepped foot in the kitchen door. |
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| White Queen | Mar 12 2015, 07:38 AM Post #56 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Sean had to ask what their school had to offer, as if he had trouble imagining anyone consciously choosing to enroll if they had other options available. The way he had described their students certainly implied as much. Granted, it was an accurate, if not particularly prestigious summary of the circumstances in which they'd come under his and Emma's care, up to and including Miss Miller. A year of receiving students in much the same manner he might have been assigned cases while he'd worked for Interpol. If that was the case, it was time he learned that it was normal, expected even, for a school to justify its credentials when a student (or more often their parents) took an interest in it, or vice versa. He'd have to do much better than a heavy-handed quip regarding their superior capacity to protect their children from supervillains compared to remaining at home. He might want to start working on that, because Emma was not about to feed him answers as if he were some great Irish parrot. She did hope that wasn't asking too much of a man who'd had as much a hand, if not more, in making the school what it was as herself. Before Sean was able to respond to Emma's satisfaction, however, Moira decided to poke her nose further into the matter. Her question had all the brute pretention of an advocate demanding a smoker prove their awareness of the health hazards inherent in their habit. Her challenge was more than easily dealt with, however. Yes, Katie Power was much younger than Paige and the others, but Emma had already taken that into account and done some additional research on the side, just to be extra prepared. All of which cumulatively rendered the age difference practically negligible in the grand scheme of things. “About that…” Sean tried to interject midway through Emma's response. He stalled out, most likely so as not to be overrun while Emma completed her thought, but just what had prompted such a guarded preamble. For a man so determined to forbid her to enter his mind, he did love to tempt her. Muted surprise, and perhaps a seasoning of suspicion, painted both their faces, and it wasn't too hard to guess what had put that there. “Ah lord, where…” Sean began, but everyone present knew Emma had her ways. Rather than waste all their time on a question whose answer was both simple enough to reason out and not quite as offensive as they might believe, she turned her attention back on the older man who'd so helplessly pronounced that he 'didn't know' how he felt about all this. Nonsense. He'd already said there was 'seldom harm in speaking to someone,' and for the moment that was all Emma had proposed they do. Either he believed this was one of the exceptions to that blanket statement, or he didn't. She had no patience for him wallowing in indecision. A clatter of fork on plate signaled the flare of Moira's righteous and entirely expected fury. Ah, so that had touched a nerve, had it? "You'll not have-" she snapped, restraining herself for once before completing her thought. But of course, she had. It being for Sean's sake, after all. Sean, for his part, flicked his eyes from the bit of sausage Emma had bitten off to punctuate her point and then away. “I see,” he said evenly. “You understand if I have them, except I’m not actually allowed to have any of them at all.” So now he acting the wounded soul not being treated fairly. Emma was tempted to answer that outright. To remind him that the purpose of reservations was to inform a decision, not prevent him. It might even surprise him to know that she had a number herself. Katie apparently had access at will to a spacecraft with a fully functional AI and the capability to travel throughout the galaxy. Emma fairly shuddered to think how Paige and Jubilee might take advantage of something like that. Instead, Emma decided to cut straight to the apparent heart of the matter. What did he think the purpose of the school was? “Jaysis…” Sean began to say, voice exasperated as if the question had caught him completely off guard. Emma wouldn't be surprised if it had. And there was Moira, watching, but for the moment seemingly content to wait alongside Emma for Sean's answer. “Well,” Sean started once his voice was on steadier legs. “and to be honest, I don’t know, Emma, whether you like me admitting that or not,” he added, and Emma's eyes did narrow slightly, but offered no interruption. “I thought that the reason I’ve been at the school was because I saw some children that were hurt and needing help, and because a man who I trusted as a friend asked me to be there to help them,” Sean continued, pausing for a quick moment to glance toward Moira before he looked back to his colleague and went on to the point of that, “and now, I’ve found out that the entire reason I’d known him was based on lies he put in my head and in other people’s, after he got four teenagers in his care killed.” Well. This wasn't quite the answer Emma had expected, but upon further reflection, perhaps she should have. The secrets unearthed by the arrival of their four newest guests had caused quite the upheaval, and while the storm may have died down, the shockwaves were bound to be felt for years, perhaps even lifetimes. Even Emma was no exception to that. Sean shook his head, pushing away his food even as Moira sullenly poked at one of her own sausages with her newly reclaimed fork. “So nay,” he said, lifting his eyes back up to Emma's, “I don’t know what the purpose of this school he had us set up is. And I don’t much like to think about what it might be.” Calmly lowering her fork down to her plate, Emma met Sean's eyes and said, "That much I do believe. " It was likely she even shared in part with those concerns. "Mayhap you should ask that question of yourself, Lass," Moira said, fixing her gaze back on the blonde woman. "Then ask yourself again where the answer that comes to you might've sprung from. And, of all times, why you're so set on bringing more children who've other, more suitable options at hand into the school just now." Emma met the look, and her challenge unflinching. "But not if the answer to your first question, impossible as it may be to imagine, were to meet with your approval. Isn't that right? I expect then you'd less concerned with its origins." Emma's lips tilted up ever-so-slightly into a mocking smile. "More likely you'd suspect the source of your own thoughts than try to reconcile the two of us being of like minds on anything. It's quite alright," she added, waving it away with an idle lift of one hand. "I'd be inclined to do the same." The smile quickly melted away as Emma turned a look on Sean, jutting her chin out slightly, before she pushed her seat and rose from it. "I haven't had a single thought since I attended University that I could trust as entirely my own," she said, wandering toward the cabinets. "It's part of being a telepath, particularly when you find yourself in the company of other telepaths. So while I have as much reason as you to be suspicious of certain things, you'll both forgive me if I'm not inclined to have some sort of crisis after learning of this latest intrusion." Reaching up, Emma traced the edge of a cabinet door with one slender finger. She looked over her shoulder at the other two. "I agreed to help run a school," she said plainly, though the ice had left her voice. "Not a glorified refuge for young people with nowhere else to go and an inability to face the world on their own." That was what the Morlocks had done, and look how they turned out. "And certainly not as a training ground for the X-Men to select new recruits." A trace of bitterness crept in as she spoke. "I don't have the luxury of blaming anyone save myself for what happened to my Hellions, and I'll not see it happen again to fulfill anyone's purpose." Fingers curling into a fist, Emma turned back to face Moira and Sean and folded her hands in front of her. "We have every reason to doubt Xavier's true motivations, Sean, but if you truly suspect you're doing this for the wrong reasons, you have two choices. You can either start doing it for the right reasons, or you can stop doing it entirely." The very same choices she'd been presented with when Xavier offered her the position at his new school in the first place. It was that simple. And not simple at all. They could chew on that or dismiss it as it pleased them. "Now what were you about to tell me?" she added, arching one of her brows. "About Artie and Leech, I believe?" |
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| Banshee | Mar 15 2015, 10:08 PM Post #57 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Christ, it was too early in the morning for this. Tempers fraying, Mo’s perhaps a wee bit more obviously to the naked eye than Emma’s, but Sean couldn’t see that wee performance with the sausage, put together with the scattering of icy looks he’d been receiving off and on, and not think his colleague wasn’t seething beneath her calm too. And here he was, put on the spot and not seeing a way clear to think he had any right to dodge it, now that he found himself here. When it came to it, he’d probably been dodging it all week, hadn’t he? Ever since they’d found out what they had about the man who’d brought them all to this place, one way or another. After that, if he pressed himself - or let Emma press him, might have been more accurate - Sean Cassidy had to say that he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he thought, because everything he had thought, it all felt tainted now by the lies that the man he’d thought of as a friend and inspiration had put into his head. His, and the heads of everyone who’d known him then. And this ‘school’ that they had the running of, the one Emma wanted him to tell her his purpose for? Well, he didn’t know that either, because he’d been there because Xavier had asked him, and now what on earth was he supposed to think about why that had been? To be entirely honest, both with himself, and with both women, he didn’t even like to start to try to think about it. He’d pushed his plate away, and Moira was only playing with hers. Emma joined them in that, dropping her fork as she met his eyes. At least she did meet them. He’d like to think that was an improvement in the possibility she might have just looked past him and dismissed that, but jaysis, who knew? “That much I do believe,“ she said, impenetrably enough to give barely the slightest clue about what that meant. Was she bemoaning his lack of courage in facing up to the thoughts themselves? Or just telling him she wasn’t completely befuddled that he might think that way? Well, maybe he’d never know, because Moira spoke again, pushing her plate aside with decision, the sausages to be poked at no longer. “Mayhap you should ask that question of yourself, Lass," Moira said, fixing her gaze back on the blonde woman. "Then ask yourself again where the answer that comes to you might've sprung from. And, of all times, why you're so set on bringing more children who've other, more suitable options at hand into the school just now.” Sean glanced from one determined woman to the other, realizing quickly enough (it didn’t take too many brains, thank god) that there’d be no helping him if he tried to intervene to mediate this one. Whether either would have even noticed if he had, the way they were looking at each other right now, that was an open question too. “But not if the answer to your first question, impossible as it may be to imagine, were to meet with your approval. Isn't that right? I expect then you'd less concerned with its origins,” Emma answered, putting a smile on her lips that gave a sharp, mocking cast to them. Not an attractive look on anyone - or maybe it was just not to his own taste - and it had Sean frowning again in reflex. “More likely you'd suspect the source of your own thoughts than try to reconcile the two of us being of like minds on anything. It's quite alright," she added, waving it away with an idle lift of one hand. "I'd be inclined to do the same.” Jaysis. Had she - nay, he wouldn’t have thought it, even of the White Queen, or at least not of the woman he’d worked with for the past year, but from where Sean was sitting right now, it looked a lot like she was choosing to play on the doubts and fears Mo was living with after learning how deeply she’d been betrayed by a man she’d loved, for no better reason than to twist a knife about whether she could trust herself? “Ahh, that’s enough of that, Emma,” Sean told her, putting a good deal more sharpness in his voice than he’d been using before this, or that he made a point of using in general. He reached out his hand to Moira, squeezing her arm protectively, but keeping his eyes on his colleague as he added, “Keep your barbs to yourself, will you?” Like as not, Mo wouldn’t thank him for the gesture, or for the words, or want him coming to her defense, but sometimes a man just didn’t think, especially where it came to the woman he’d loved from the moment he’d first seen her (and whatever doubts he might have about that time, Sean didn’t doubt for a moment that that had been real). She’d been through enough, this week and long before that, though, that was the thing. She didn’t need to be a target for Emma and her petty little thorns on top of all the rest. Well, who knew if he wouldn’t have just made it worse for all involved by the protest too. Emma herself, she brought her chin up, looking a wee bit defiantly at him before she got up, apparently to go walkabout, as the Australians might have said. “I haven't had a single thought since I attended University that I could trust as entirely my own," she said, which was a little hard to credit, unless she meant that those Professors there tried to fill you up on their own thoughts and ideas so much you didn’t know where you stopped and they started. Or not, as she went on to explain that odd confession as, “It’s part of being a telepath, particularly when you find yourself in the company of other telepaths. So while I have as much reason as you to be suspicious of certain things, you'll both forgive me if I'm not inclined to have some sort of crisis after learning of this latest intrusion.” “Oh, for the good Lord’s sake,” Sean muttered, rolling his eyes all the way down to his plate. Christ. She’d stand there, and say that to him? He’d had his mind turned over and his will literally made not his own more times than he ever wanted to think about (and, not to put too fine a point on it, the last time had been by her, when he’d crossed her will and failed to agree with her about Emplate), and she wanted to stand there by the cupboard in her expensive white clothes and tell him she knew more about having her mind tampered with than he did? “I agreed to help run a school," she said plainly, though the ice had left her voice. "Not a glorified refuge for young people with nowhere else to go and an inability to face the world on their own. And certainly not as a training ground for the X-Men to select new recruits.” Yet if the initial reasons she’d given him for wanting wee Katie Power were with them, a pathway to the X-men was exactly what she was offering to those same young people she was set on gathering about her, Sean thought, but didn’t bother to look up to see whether she might have seen the thought in his head or not. ”I don't have the luxury of blaming anyone save myself for what happened to my Hellions, and I'll not see it happen again to fulfill anyone's purpose.” He did look up then, hearing that note of a real emotion in her voice, and saw the hand she’d clenched, as she’d turned away from them.. And just like that, for a moment Sean did find himself pitying her all over again. Whoever might have been to blame, or however much of it had been her fault, that loss was a real one to her, wasn’t it? You couldn’t know her for as long as he had and not pick up on that. But you couldn’t live as long as he had, and seen and lived the things he had, and not hear a danger in that sentence too, so Sean sighed, shaking his head softly. “You can’t use the present to rewrite the past, Emma,” he told her, as gently as he could make it. “There’ve been times in my life I’d have liked nothing better, but it’s not the way it works.” Maeve, and Terry. What Moira had had to go through with her son. Those sprang to mind, for sure. Emma turned back, putting her hands in front of her neatly, like there had never been a fist they’d made. “We have every reason to doubt Xavier's true motivations, Sean, but if you truly suspect you're doing this for the wrong reasons, you have two choices. You can either start doing it for the right reasons, or you can stop doing it entirely,” she said. Sean looked back at her, fighting an urge to run his hand through his hair, but losing the battle to keep his bottom lip out of the way of his teeth. Stop doing it entirely? If he could be sure that the children he’d agreed to look out for were well-looked after, and on their ways to living their lives… and Emma had to realize, did she not, that if he were to pull out, there’d be no way that most of the rest of the people here, the ones who had the running of the Xavier Trust, or a memory of the times five years ago, when Rahne and her friends and Kitty had been teenagers Emma had wanted for her first ‘school’, would be comfortable letting her run it still on her own? “Now what were you about to tell me?" she added, arching one of her brows. "About Artie and Leech, I believe?” “Aye, well, if you’re ready to give me a minute,” Sean answered, catching his storm of thoughts together and putting them to one side for now. That at least was a question that he could give an answer to straight away. “Last night Sue Richards stopped me for a wee chat, you see,” he began. “It seems her son has hit it up a storm-“ Jaysis, that might have been an accidental pun… well never mind, “-with Leech and Artie, while they’ve been here these last days. She and her husband are offering to take the boys in with their family in the Baxter Building. At least for a little while, but I got the sense they might like it to be longer than that.” He couldn’t help but give a slightly defensive shrug, and glanced to Moira for a moment before he looked back at Emma. Maybe not his best move, but… aye, he couldn’t help it. “And with the way things are, I can’t say I don’t think it might be a good idea,” Sean explained, then had to shake his head. Even he could hear the waffle in that one. “That is…” he corrected himself, “I think it’s a good idea.” You couldn’t know the Richards, and their family, and everything they had in that building of theirs, and everything they’d done, and not think they’d be more than qualified to take up that sort of charge. Or at least, he couldn’t. |
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| Moira MacTaggert | Mar 16 2015, 08:08 PM Post #58 |
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Well then, so very nice of her majesty, the White Queen, to deign to believe what was said to her by a man less likely to tell ought than the honest truth than any she'd ever known. As if that belief were some favor she might bestow on the unworthy. To Moira's mind, however, it seemed that perhaps Emma might want to turn her own question back upon herself. Question where her own answers came from and whether it might be she should believe those, given what they'd learned just a handful these last handful of days. For the situation being as it was, she seemed unusually set on a girl who'd better options at hand. That she also seemed unexpectedly knowledgeable of details of Katie Power's life and situation was of no little concern. It was a bit too familiar, as patterns went. Was the last years veneer starting to wear a bit thin before their very eyes? If it was, then Emma Frost did her usual job of covering it up again as those ice blue eyes met her own across the kitchen island. "But not if the answer to your first question, impossible as it may be to imagine, were to meet with your approval. Isn't that right? I expect then you'd less concerned with its origins." Emma's lips tilted up ever-so-slightly into a mocking smile as Moira's own narrowed. And just what was it that she was getting at? "More likely you'd suspect the source of your own thoughts than try to reconcile the two of us being of like minds on anything. It's quite alright," she added, waving it away with an idle lift of one hand. "I'd be inclined to do the same." Jaw tightening, the geneticist felt the jolt of that implication, though be damned to hell if she'd show it in more than the grinding of her teeth and the flash of temper sparking in green eyes. Even as something cold and hard settled itself in the vicinity of her stomach all the same. "Aye, and would ye, now?" Why, the wee, glakit hoo- “Ahh, that’s enough of that, Emma,” Sean interrupted and Moira's eyes cut his way, as sharp as that note in his voice. His hand coming to her arm, fingers squeezing, was the only thing that had her holding her tongue, and it was still a near thing. “Keep your barbs to yourself, will you?” He was a good man, and she did love him beyond all reason and always had, but she could fight her own battles and would prefer to do so, thank you very much. A thing he'd not known her this long without knowing, but that she'd have told him again with no compunction, but Emma was away again. Any pretense of a smile faded from her face as fast as it'd come and she stuck her chin out defiantly in Sean's direction, like nothing so much as a put upon teenager, about to share her great wisdom with the adults who'd none of it of their own. "I haven't had a single thought since I attended University that I could trust as entirely my own," she said, standing and wandering over to the cabinet as Moira wondered, for all the time the woman had spent poking about in the heads of others, whose thoughts it was she'd been borrowing, then? Or perhaps it was Emma's way of explaining to them how she'd made her way to graduation. "It's part of being a telepath, particularly when you find yourself in the company of other telepaths. So while I have as much reason as you to be suspicious of certain things, you'll both forgive me if I'm not inclined to have some sort of crisis after learning of this latest intrusion." Moira snorted an involuntary breath through her nose. "Oh, aye, 'tis such a burden you bear." For the love of all things, was the woman honestly trying to tell them, with a straight face no less, that the telepaths had the worst of it, compared to those who'd been jerked about as little more than puppets on strings by them? Nay, she'd known enough of them in her own time - including Charles - and more than enough of how the powerset itself worked, to know the lie of that. “Oh, for the good Lord’s sake,” Sean muttered and Moira'd no need to see his face to know his eyes were likely rolling about in his head. He'd no more believe it than she would herself. “I agreed to help run a school," [Emma] said plainly, though the ice had left her voice. "Not a glorified refuge for young people with nowhere else to go and an inability to face the world on their own. And certainly not as a training ground for the X-Men to select new recruits.” And now, was she trying to deny what she'd only just said about young Katie and bringing her to the Academy because she wanted to be an X-Man? Moira shook her head again and crossed her arms over her chest. They were neither of them, her or Sean, so far gone to age that they'd forget what had been said only minutes before. ”I don't have the luxury of blaming anyone save myself for what happened to my Hellions, and I'll not see it happen again to fulfill anyone's purpose.” There might've been honest emotion there, the geneticist decided, but held onto her skepticism all the same. Though, aye, it was a sentiment even she could have some appreciation for. She'd her own blame and her own regrets and her own lost children enough - those she remembered and those whose memories had been stolen from her - that she'd not see others lost to the same path if it could be helped. A sigh from Sean that spoke volumes and a shake of his head followed. “You can’t use the present to rewrite the past, Emma,” he told her, as gently as he could make it. “There’ve been times in my life I’d have liked nothing better, but it’s not the way it works.” Her eyes settled on him again, then, thinking of his wife and his daughter and all the things Black Tom Cassidy had taken from him. Her own Kevin, and the things Joe MacTaggert had taken from her. "You can only learn from it, Emma, and do better," the auburn haired woman added, heat gone from her voice and suddenly weary of this. Sometimes, she forgot how young Emma Frost truly was. How little of the world she really knew, when she believed she already knew it all. Not a woman to be trusted. She was like a spiteful, half-tame thing in some ways. As likely to take a chunk from you as not (and enjoy it) if you let your guard down. But someone to be pitied a little, all the same, while knowing that. The other woman turned back then, hands unclenched and any of what might've been honest emotion banished away. “We have every reason to doubt Xavier's true motivations, Sean, but if you truly suspect you're doing this for the wrong reasons, you have two choices. You can either start doing it for the right reasons, or you can stop doing it entirely,” and there was another bit of advice the geneticist thought the White Queen could do to turn around onto herself, but she'd not say as much when Sean looked near ready to start pulling his own hair from his head. She knew him and knew him well and knew he'd not leave the children trusted to his care, under whatever circumstances they'd come to be that way, in uncertain hands, however much Moira herself would rather shave down the physical distance between them as they'd made a new start at shaving down the emotional distance. But she also wondered, in putting that to him, if Emma realized she'd not be left by anyone here to her own devices in Massachusetts, to do as she saw fit with those same children. “Now what were you about to tell me?" she added, arching one of her brows and before Sean had a chance to answer the last thing one way or another. "About Artie and Leech, I believe?” “Aye, well, if you’re ready to give me a minute,” Sean answered, as Moira decided that, if this was going to go on, she might as well endure it sitting and reached for a chair to pull toward the island. “Last night Sue Richards stopped me for a wee chat, you see,” he began. “It seems her son has hit it up a storm-“ Pausing in her task, Moira arched an amused eyebrow his way. He did have a way with words, did Sean, “-with Leech and Artie, while they’ve been here these last days. She and her husband are offering to take the boys in with their family in the Baxter Building. At least for a little while, but I got the sense they might like it to be longer than that.” There was a shrug from Sean, perhaps a forestalling one, before he looked her way. Meeting his eyes, she gave a slight nod. Certainly, he didn't need her agreement, but he had it all the same. “And with the way things are, I can’t say I don’t think it might be a good idea,” Sean explained turning back to Emma and shaking his head as Moira moved her own chair into place and sat herself into it “That is…” he corrected himself, “I think it’s a good idea.” Perhaps her own opinion had no real place here, either, but that had rarely stopped her before. Nor would it this time. "I can't help thinking that those boys are more in need of a family than they are of being something along the line of mascots to a group of teenagers at a school. However fond those teenagers might be of them," she qualified, before Emma could cite that as cause to keep them there all the same. And because she did know that many of them were fond of the two boys. "And they've certainly the resources to provide a safe, nurturing environment where they'll be guided and protected in all the ways they need to be at the age they are," she added, more to Sean than to Emma. Something, as of right now, Moira wasn't at all certain any of them - the ones Charles had gathered as his X-Men, officially and unofficially and whatever they might be calling themselves at present - could say with any surety, much as it pained her. The teenagers, some of whom were almost past that stage entirely and ready to move on as it was, were one thing. The younger ones, well, that was a different matter when it came to needs, whatever the White Queen thought she knew. |
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| White Queen | Mar 18 2015, 11:46 PM Post #59 |
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Top class breeding, darlings.
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Whether he wished to admit it or not, Sean did know how he felt about this. It wasn’t even difficult to guess what those feelings were. Every word spoken since he’d claimed there was ‘seldom harm in asking’ had been a point against considering even so much as that. Most of those had, indeed, come from Moira, but Sean’s entire demeanor had been one of relief for having arguments made he didn’t have to find the words for himself. At best it was a waste of time. If he was only comfortable at the moment with their school being used as a dumping ground for horrible little troublemakers the other teams wished to be rid of, he may as well say as much. Otherwise, they were in a position of him stalling until the weight of his concerns drew Emma into choosing against the idea for him (which was insulting), or on Emma devoting so much effort on the other position that he simply yielded (which was both tiresome and pathetic.) For all they clashed on policy and their approach to education, in these matters they needed to be unified. There would be no point in approaching the Powers if Sean only agreed because Emma had made a strong enough case for it. As for how he saw the school, Emma did believe he was at an impasse there. She would even concede he had good reason to be. Xavier’s meddling had thrown quite a bit into question, and if Sean was having that much trouble with it, they should probably focus on clearing that up. Naturally, Moira had to intrude upon that opportunity, suggesting that Emma should ask herself some hard questions as well. Not content to leave it at that, she went on to both imply that her interest in growing the school might be little more than a planted compulsion (one would expect her and Sean both to be actively seeking new students, were that the case) and to cast aspersions on the quality of the school itself. Other, more suitable options? Convenient how little importance that was given when it came to adding Layla Miller to the student roster. Suppose Emma’s own belief as to the purpose of the school were to meet with Moira’s approval. What then? Would she still insist that Emma question the source of the answer? Or would she question her own thoughts rather than accept that the two of them could find common ground on anything? It wouldn’t be a surprise. Emma would find the thought equally unpleasant. There was fire in Moira’s eyes. Heavens. Had Emma touched a nerve? "Aye, and would ye, now?" “Ahh, that’s enough of that, Emma,” Sean said with a good deal more fierceness than before. There was plenty of warning in his tone, much like when he’d impressed upon her how serious he was that she would do well not to intrude upon his mind uninvited. He reached out to Moira, as if he were shielding Moira with a reassuring squeeze and a hard look in Emma’s direction. How positively cavity inducing. “Keep your barbs to yourself, will you?” And here Emma thought Moira was ‘a woman grown’ who’d invited her to speak what she wished aloud. “If you insist,” Emma said with an unconcerned air. Moira had asked a question, though, and she’d best be prepared for the answer. Of course she had considered the extent of Xavier’s meddling upon herself. She would deal with what she could, and as for the rest, when there was nothing to be done, one simply endured as best as one could. She was a telepath, and the simple truth was it meant something different to her to be the target of such manipulations than it meant to others. If they expected her to suddenly sink into a pit of self-doubt over this, regardless of how unwelcome she found the intrusion, they would be waiting a long time. She’d sooner lose sleep over her own trespasses than from those inflicted upon her. It had been that way since Astrid. Possibly even since her dear father had had her committed. "Oh, aye, 'tis such a burden you bear[,]" Moira said after a derisive snort. One of Emma’s eyebrows shot up. So. Apparently explaining that she held a different perspective was the same as claiming to have it worse. What a curious interpretation. “Oh, for the good Lord’s sake,” Sean said under his breath, rolling his eyes in obvious disgust. As if he believed his history with mind control meant she had no right to feel differently about it being done to her. Or that in feeling differently she was somehow trivializing his, Moira’s and anyone else’s experiences and the impact they’d had on them. Had she fallen into a foreign language of some kind without her knowledge? Perhaps they required elaborate diagrams and a musical number before they got her meaning. Whatever the difficulty, she was growing weary of the pattern. Enough that she refused to dignify their accusations for what they were. There was little to gain in the effort it would take to make herself understood. They wanted to know what she thought the purpose of the school was? To be a school. An educational institute. It didn’t need to be anything more and she had no desire whatsoever to see it turned into the X-Men’s private recruitment pool. The dubious looks on Sean and Moira’s faces were unmistakable. Oh, for heaven’s sake. Of course they would think those were her intentions with Katie Power. It wouldn’t have occurred to them that the school might be a means to redirect the girl’s interest into something safer and more productive rather than to fulfill that desire. No. Though she fully believed her students should learn to use their ability to their fullest potential, that was a matter of survival. Not to para-militarize them. She’d already buried her Hellions. She would do everything in her power to ensure it didn’t happen to these or any other students under her care, and she’d stand against anyone who might attempt to sacrifice them for their own cause. Never again. A sigh momentarily drew Emma out of her thoughts, but she knew the memory would return soon enough. She would always have those deaths on her conscience. Sean gave his head a shake and Emma gave him a suspicious look. She wanted no pity from him. “You can’t use the present to rewrite the past, Emma,” he told her, as gently as he could make it. “There’ve been times in my life I’d have liked nothing better, but it’s not the way it works.” "You can only learn from it, Emma, and do better," Moira added, sounding newly tired. Emma’s eyes momentarily flashed as they focused on the Scottish woman. She dared? Moira not only had no true memory of the loss of her students, but effectively had them back in such a way that she may as well never have lost them to begin with. And she thought to lecture her on how to cope with the deaths of her students? Pressing her lips together, Emma drew a steadying breath through her nose. “I’m quite aware that the past is set in stone,” she informed them in precise tones. Her Hellions would always be dead, no matter what else she did with her life or how many students she taught well. And their deaths would always be her responsibility. “I’m here because one man believed I am capable of learning from the past and doing better, as you say, but even if that was merely a deception to bring me in, it wouldn’t affect my efforts to do precisely that.” Xavier’s purpose for the school was now in question. She wouldn’t deny that, but that didn’t change the fact that the school was still there, and that the two of them were still doing it. If Sean believed it was for the wrong reasons, the responsibility was on them to change that. Either by doing it for the right reasons, or by no longer doing it at all. He could do with that as he wished. She intended to do the former, and it would be preferable if he did the same. As much as they clashed, there was a certain familiarity and comfort in having him as co-headmaster, and one of them needed to have their heart in this. Most would doubt Emma even had a heart, so as far as that went, Sean was elected. Or if he couldn’t handle it, whoever he trusted most to replace him, because there was no possibility of Emma running the school on her own. Even she didn’t trust herself enough to risk that. He could dwell on that as he needed, but it did sound as if he’d had something to tell her about Artie and Leech. She was quite interested in what that might be, “Aye, well, if you’re ready to give me a minute,” the former detective said while Moira pulled in a seat to make herself comfortable on. “Last night Sue Richards stopped me for a wee chat, you see, It seems her son has hit it up a storm-“ oh for goodness sake. “-with Leech and Artie, while they’ve been here these last days. She and her husband are offering to take the boys in with their family in the Baxter Building. At least for a little while, but I got the sense they might like it to be longer than that.” The offer was news to Emma, but she had noticed Artie and Leech had been spending quite a bit of time with Franklin. Monitoring their whereabouts was how Katie had come under her attention in the first place. ‘Longer than that,’ was a rather significant choice of words, though, wasn’t it? Certainly it had a character of leading to something, and Sean was now appearing to stall in reaching that destination. He shrugged his shoulders and Moira, for whatever reason, gave him some sort of encouraging nod when he looked her way. “And with the way things are, I can’t say I don’t think it might be a good idea,” he continued. Ah, there it was. As weakly committal as humanly possible, but still there. “That is…” he corrected himself, “I think it’s a good idea.” Better. He was trying, at least. “I see,” Emma said neutrally, holding her place by the cabinets, arms still crossed. “That is something I would have appreciated knowing earlier.” Had she known he was aiming to move students out of the school, she would have taken it as a sign that he was not inclined to consider adding students. "I can't help thinking that those boys are more in need of a family than they are of being something along the line of mascots to a group of teenagers at a school. However fond those teenagers might be of them," Moira said, the last bit a clear sign that she, and probably Sean as well, expected her to immediately object to the proposal. "And they've certainly the resources to provide a safe, nurturing environment where they'll be guided and protected in all the ways they need to be at the age they are," she continued, directing that to Sean, who Emma expected had already spent a good deal of time pondering that very thing. For two people who had earlier spoken so highly of hope, they seemed to have little faith in Sean and Emma’s ability to provide as much to the young. Which only served to prove Emma’s wonder that anyone would take stock in it at all. “And do you expect they can provide a stable environment as well?” Emma asked. “As many times as they’ve been moved from home to home, I should think there’s little good to be had in shifting them off to yet another temporary family, however well suited to children of their age it may be.” Both had bounced through no less than four in the past few years. If five were to become six or more, Emma had trouble believing that would be healthy for anyone of their age. |
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| Banshee | Mar 19 2015, 11:42 PM Post #60 |
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Still got me Lucky Charms!
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Ahh, feck. It was feeling like that time again. The point where tempers were all fraying to pieces, and every set of words you might utter would only throw a spike at someone else, and probably no one anything said could escape being hurtful to someone. Moira bristling, and Emma - for all she was playing unconcerned and indifferent, clearly unable to resist poking in every sore spot that she might be able to find. Perhaps, Sean couldn’t help but think, he’d be best off trying to just can the whole discussion entirely. At least for the moment, things being as they were, for everyone. The moment that he might have done that, though, came and went before the Irishman had thought to take hold of it. And then Emma was speaking of the students she’d had before, the ones who she’d seen killed in front of her, and… aye, well, when he remembered that, he couldn’t do aught but pity her. But that was the past, and you couldn’t use that as a model to rewrite the present, much as you might like to. He knew that. He knew that Mo did too, and he didn’t need to meet her eyes to be sure of that, yet he did it anyway, seeing the ghosts of her ghosts in her eyes, as she’d be seeing his too. It had been nearly a decade now they’d known and cared for each other, they knew each other’s demons well enough for this. “You can only learn from it, Emma, and do better,” Moira said, and jaysis, he’d have liked to have just thrown everything aside just to hug her right now, sounding that way, but it wouldn’t do, would it? Emma wasn’t happy with that advice - either piece of it - that much seemed clear to Sean from the controlled way she was breathing in. “I’m quite aware that the past is set in stone,” she informed them in precise tones, the words brittle in their sparkling clarity. “I’m here because one man believed I am capable of learning from the past and doing better, as you say, but even if that was merely a deception to bring me in, it wouldn’t affect my efforts to do precisely that.” Well, aye. If she had been laid under some kind of compulsion, the way she’d seemed to be determined to point out applied as well to her in the presence of stronger telepaths as it had to himself (or anyone not cursed with a talent for psionics) when she’d decided to meddle for herself, that would be how she thought about the ‘mission’, wouldn’t it? For half a second, Sean felt his tongue fumbling to say something to that point, but she didn’t give him time, and, to be perfectly honest, that was probably a good thing. Instead, she continued, agreeing that they might have reason (more than, to his thinking) to doubt what Xavier had been doing, but… …outlining a choice that was his. Aye, do it for other reasons, or stop doing it at all. Put like that, what other option was there, really? It was another question Sean realized - once it had been put to him, anyways - he’d been avoiding too. So all in all, he was actually more than wee bit relieved when Emma herself took some of that pressure off by redirecting her scrutiny into a question about what it was he’d been trying to tell her. Which… oh aye, about Artie, and Leech. Aye, well, that was a thing worth talking about, and if it had been slipping his mind thus far this morning through one reason or another, that certainly wasn’t reason to avoid it now. Provided Emma’d let him have a minute to speak before bringing up another of her proposals, that was. Out of the corner of his eye, Sean saw Moira pulling a stool toward her, maybe settling herself for a long run of it. Emma had her attention on him too, so far as he could see, so… aye, well he’d go ahead, and tell her about the visit he’d had from Sue Richards just last night, and the circumstances that had led that good woman to making him - or rather them, really - the offer that she had made. Namely, that she and her family could take in Artie and Leech - for a little while, but likely much longer, that was the impression he’d gotten - and give the boys a family in the Baxter Building. Which… well… if he was to be honest - and he did always try for that - how could he say that that would be a bad idea? Which - helped along a wee bit by that look on Emma’s face, as those particular waffling words came out of his mouth - Sean did realize the error in, and did his best to correct. He did think it was a good idea, and he’d put that out there, as plainly as he could. “I see,” Emma said neutrally, holding her place by the cabinets, arms still crossed. Jaysis, none of that was a good sign, was it? But then could he really say that if he’d thought about this ahead of blurting it out as soon as he’d been prompted, that he’d have expected any different from her? “That is something I would have appreciated knowing earlier.” Earlier? For all that he was trying to see her side of things here, and knowing that, coming as it had, brought by perhaps unfortunate twists in turns in the conversation, the news about the offer must have come a wee bit like upside the head, Sean couldn’t quite keep his brown from furrowing in response to that look. “Well, would you have liked me to wake you up in the middle of the night to discuss it right away?” he asked rhetorically, because he felt he had to defend himself from that somewhat unwarranted aspersion on his ability to communicate. “I thought it could wait till morning to talk about,” he added, by way of self-excusion, with a glance toward the window, and the pink light it was letting into the room, “and it’s barely past dawn now.” Jaysis, it wasn’t as if he’d done anything but heard Mrs Richards out, was it? There were no plans he’d been hatching, or research he’d been doing. He’d just had a conversation, and had an opinion that was his own about that, and then he’d brought it up when it had been recalled to his memory, and if that wasn’t as fast as Emma would have liked… well, there was little enough he could do about his own memory. “I can't help thinking that those boys are more in need of a family than they are of being something along the line of mascots to a group of teenagers at a school. However fond those teenagers might be of them,” Moira spoke up, throwing that last bit in perhaps a wee touch hastily, as Sean turned his head, forming an expression of half-protest. He hadn’t meant to imply that the older students were any way deficient… but aye, she’d met that point, hadn’t she? “And they've certainly the resources to provide a safe, nurturing environment where they'll be guided and protected in all the ways they need to be at the age they are," [Mo] added, looking at him like she’d read his mind, and found the way to put into words the thoughts he’d have liked to be able to communicate that easily. Aye. The Richards - the entire Fantastic Four, in fact - were a nigh on uncanny model for how to live your lives, powers or teams or adventures or no. Safe and successful, aye, their record spoke to that, but he’d crossed paths with them enough, even before seeing how they’d come this week, with their whole family, and added a note of stability and normalcy to a situation that had been anythign but in this Mansion. “And do you expect they can provide a stable environment as well?” Emma asked also perhaps if she’d read his mind, except maybe in a negative version. “As many times as they’ve been moved from home to home, I should think there’s little good to be had in shifting them off to yet another temporary family, however well suited to children of their age it may be.” Ahh, aye, that was an important point, to be sure. After all those two boys had been through in their short lives, if he’d been only suggesting another upheaval for other people’s convenience, or to align some kind of scoresheet, then aye, that would have been a terrible thing to suggest. Sean didn’t see it that way though, so he shook his head, then nodded it (regardless of knowing that that might seem a wee bit confusing), and replied sincerely, “Well, aye, I do. This would be a family after all, not just another home. Nor just a ‘school’.” The last point seemed worth adding, given what Emma had been talking of, because if that was her vision to be running, then two boys who needed a loving home most of all, before they ever needed think about an education, might not be in the right place at all. “But if you have concerns,” he continued, “I’m sure Sue and her husband would be more than willing to talk them out with you, and see if there’s not a common page we can all agree on.” Before they said anything to the boys. It was still early days yet, given that the idea had only been broached for the first time the night before, nay? |
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7:14 PM Jul 10