May. 5th, 2013

mentis: (= | a tough kid who)
[personal profile] mentis
[ He's in the library, that much is evident by the rather large collection of books to his left and the stacks behind him. His too large shirt sleeves are pushed up and his hair is a mess as though he's spent hours running his hands through it in frustration. But it's a good place to be and if he doesn't do this now he might never. It's important. For Charles the library is neutral territory, it's public and open and safe ( or as safe as anywhere is here ). He wouldn't want to do this at home any more than he would ask people to come to him out there. The elbow of his right arm rests on the table as his other hoists the device up for him to be seen. ]

The past couple of weeks have been interesting, yes? [ Charles doesn't sound as bright as he usually is, if anything he has steel under his voice. This isn't the post of a soft, bumbling professor, this is a man who's decided to take action. ] It made me think a great deal. Erik coming back helped solidify this. [ There you go Lehnsherr, he knows you won't announce yourself to the masses so he'll do it for you. ] The more I talk to people the more I realise we're all rather blind to each other and the experiences of this place. Different camps, divides and distrust and a very distinct layer of fear. I believe our captors would rather like it if we turned on each other, destroyed ourselves from the inside while they continued their little experiment. I don't think we should allow that. So I have a proposal. We each have skills that would be of use to each other, abilities that someone might find themselves gravely in need of. I'm aware some of us have teamed up rather effectively and well done, that kind of initiative is splendid. I have an idea to make a recording of each of our skills; something we can access in times of need rather like Mr. Rogers' idea of keeping paintings for when one of us goes missing. So if someone needs to ... install a window or rebuild part of a wall, we will be able to go to the person who would now how.

[ A pause, and then his expression shifts. He is no longer talking of building or of gardening anymore. ] But I also know there are those who have rather abnormal abilities. You might be too afraid to speak of them and I understand, I do. But you should not be frightened. In my world we call these specific powers a mutation. You might call them something different and that's all right, I'm not going to be pedantic. These evolutionary gifts can be alarming to some, may invoke fear to the ignorant, but hiding them - especially in a place like this - will do no good. [ His shoulders square slightly. ] If any of you are worried that this is a trap, that I could be leading you into danger, I will put you at rest immediately.

[ Blue eyes serious. ] I myself am a mutant. Some would call me a telepath. My mutation allows me to read the minds of those around me. [ A small, crooked smile. He thinks of Jubilee telling him he should try and push out further, thinks of her thoughts on the X-Men and his leadership skills. He's afraid that announcing this might put some people off him, but he has to. Perhaps he is not that man yet but he would like to be. ] There are other things this ability allows me to do - things that may sound terrible but in the right circumstances can be useful. [ Unbidden the image of Ned's blood on the floor comes to him. Perhaps this will be good, a layer of accountability for Charles himself. Though it is not the main reason and cannot be. ] I am telling you this simply to give you an idea. We might worry about how people will see us if our powers are strange and unusual, are seen as dangerous, but that will have to be accepted. The people who are hostage on this island are not the enemy. So I'm asking each of you to be brave. [ Another small smile. ] And to trust me.

[ It's done now. ] If you would like to come forward in person I will be here for the rest of the day. Thank you.
onteamdyson: (yep we're fucked)
[personal profile] onteamdyson
[The communicator turns on with a sharp whack before suddenly turning off again. And on. And off. And on--] Stupid piece of spy-reject, cattle-tagging crap. Get. OFF!

[When it comes back on and stays on, it's obvious by the scratches in the paint that it was being banged against a wall. Kenzi turns the device on her wrist to peer at it, into it, and she stares... until realization hits her.]

... Oh. Oh shit.

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