ArchivedLogs:The Impossible

The Impossible
Will take a little while...
Dramatis Personae Aloke, Mallory
In Absentia	2014-04-25 Discussion of dreams and the future. (Part of Future Past TP.)
Location <XS> Aloke and Mallory's Room - FL3
This is a couple's suite at Xavier's. A little more expansive than the basic teacher's rooms, this suite includes a living room, a larger bedroom, and a decent-sized private bathroom, as well as a small study. The living room has been made into a fairly cozy entertaining space. Just inside the door is a small side table set by itself in a relatively prominent position in the room, where one could easily visit either on the way in, or out. A skilled, hand-painted, 8x10 image of Lakshmi sits on the table, leaning against the wall. Just in front of the painting is a shallow, silver bowl of water with white and yellow flower petals floating on the surface. The bowl is flanked a pair of white candles. The living room sports a large, soft L-bend couch in a dark gray color. A simple coffee table, often dotted with papers waiting to be graded, sits at just about knee hight in front of the couch. The couch presents comfortable seating facing a good-sized flat screen TV mounted to the wall. Flanking the TV, and then covering most of the walls not taken up with hanging art or /doorways/ are bookshelves filled with a huge collection of neatly arranged books. The collection is perhaps a bit over organized, sorted first by genre, then by author, and then series - it screams A Librarian Did This. Among the books, in the occasional empty spaces are little trinkets and knick-knacks that add a touch of personality to the otherwise obsessively organized shelves. At the back of the living room is a well-appointed kitchenette. It doesn't have an actual oven, but it does have a couple of stove top burners, a small refrigerator with a microwave mounted above it, and sink. A round, polished wood table with two open back chairs make for a cozy little dining area; an old, worn looking teapot sits in the center, a small African violet growing happily in it - one sprout has even ventured out the spout to bloom in cheery purple. The fridge is often adorned with some of Aloke's favorite student work, usually a printout from a digital photograph of the work. Occasionally, a particularly good essay or poem from one of Mallory's students is tacked to the door as well. Aloke is pacing the living room holding a sheaf of student work on a clipboard. The portfolio looks to be about 20 pages or so of pencil sketches, and he's reviewing them one at a time, marking each with notes in green pencil. He hums quietly as he works, pacing around the small living room in slow, even steps as he goes. When he comes by the kitchenette end of the room, he pauses to pick up his tea from the counter and take a sip. He sets it down before continuing onto the next lap. It has been a long day, but with classes over, and the library left in the capable hands of someone else, Mallory is finally making her way back upstairs. Dressed in a comfortable black wrap dress that hugs her frame, accentuating the healthy figure that is finally returning after last week’s adventures, she has her attention on a new looking paperback held open in her hands. Her hair is pulled back from her face in a neat twist, held in place with matching metal sticks. A canvas bag, full of papers to grade and notes to read hangs over one shoulder. Looking up as she walks through the door, Mallory pauses, quietly closing the door behind her and regarding Aloke as he paces around the room. “Getting some exercise in while working, or does the pacing help you think?” she asks, amusement in her tone, her head canted to the side curiously. "Little bit of both?" Aloke says with a smile. He crosses, letting the clipboard drop to his side while he steps up to kiss hello. "You look nice." His smile is warm, and he turns to toss the clipboard onto the couch for now. "How was your day?" “Mm,” Mallory answers into the kiss, lips quirking up into a smile, setting aside her bag of papers to wrap Aloke in a warm hug. “Thanks, love. Things are finally /fitting/ properly again,” she says with a chuckle, still hugging him loosely, swaying slowly where she stands. “Was a day. Quiet. Though I suppose that is expected, being a librarian,” she smirks, “Students are still chattering about recent happenings, but I can’t say I blame them. Interesting times, and all.” Kissing his cheek, Mallory looks at him, asking: “And how was yours?” "Well, you look great regardless of how your clothes fit. And after everything that's happened already this year," Aloke says with a final squeeze and a shining smile. "I'm /glad/ for a quiet day. Mine was too, I mean. And more than a few students are using their art to work through how they feel about what all's been going on. Jean actually suggested a couple lessons which have been really productive." He nods at the clipboard on the couch. "I might meet with her tomorrow to go over these. Get her take on it." He crosses to the kitchen and switches on one of their tiny burners, setting the kettle on it. "You want some tea?" “You are a dear,” Mallory chuckles, releasing Aloke from the hug. Picking up her bag of papers again, she hoists it demonstratively, “Similar. I let the students pick from a few prompts for assignments last week. As a way of getting some of their thoughts out in writing.” She smiles warmly, tugging at the hair sticks and letting her hair fall down her back. “Creative writing class is doing a dream journal assignment for next week. I’m a bit curious about that one, but several seemed rather interested,” she pauses at this, setting her bag of papers down beside the sofa, out of tripping range. “Tea sounds absolutely lovely, thank you,” Mallory says with a smile, following him over to the kitchen to kiss his cheek before vanishing into the bedroom to change into relaxed clothing. Returning to the living room after a few minutes, she’s opted for a pair of black yoga pants and a drapey gray tunic top with a red floral design on it. Her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth as she focuses on the process of pulling her long hair back into a braid. Aloke is pouring the tea when Mallory returns. He fixes both cups the way they like it. Earl Gray for Mallory, and Assam for Aloke. That's the nice thing about tea - everyone can get their favorite with one pot of hot water. "I like the idea of the dream journals," Aloke says, pausing to smirk slightly at Mallory's expression of concentration while braiding. "They can be especially great for kids too, because dreams can dredge up all kinds of ideas that might be hard to sort through in the waking mind." He blinks as if just now remembering something. He slides Mallory's tea across the counter in her direction and picks up his own to blow on it before sipping. Hair safely back in a braid, Mallory crosses to the kitchen, smirking back at Aloke, “Uh huh. You try braiding all that hair while trying to not scratch yourself on horns. Not easy.” She chuckles and picks up her cup of Earl Gray, closing her eyes and inhaling the fragrance. “Thank you, love,” she says, taking a sip of the still steaming tea. Her nose crinkling at the dream journal, “They can be interesting. I admit, I was a bit surprised the students picked that prompt.” Sipping her tea again, Mallory sighs, “I always despised dream journal assignments. My dreams were fairly monotonous - everything on fire, or some variation of being on fire. Again.” There’s a shrug as she leans against the counter, holding her tea firmly in both hands, “It’s changed a bit lately. The ones I remember, anyway.” "Is that right?" Aloke asks. "I've had some strange dreams lately too. What were yours about?" Aloke leads the way for them both to get comfortable on the couch. He sets his tea down and then turns to sit sideways, folding one leg under him so he can face the other seat on the couch, before picking his tea up again. “Oh?” Mallory asks as she follows Aloke to the couch, settling in and pulling her legs up to tuck under her as she sits, tail draping over her hooves and out of the way. She keeps holding her tea gingerly in both hands, breathing in the steam as she listens to Aloke. “Seemingly mundane stuff at first - meeting up with Lorna for tea in Salem Center,” Mallory wrinkles her nose, and takes another sip of her tea, as though to reaffirm it was ‘real’ tea, “Herbal tea.” Taking a deep breath, Mallory stares down at her tea, “And then another one in the medical laboratory.” She falls quiet, sipping her tea and waiting for a reaction. Aloke is so stunned he nearly drops his tea. "Wait, you can't be serious. I had one where I was talking to Hank in the med lab, about the latest 'round of scans', because you had gone to meet Lorna in Salem." Aloke blinks and rubs at his head. "I um… I don't suppose the other dream was about the four of us? Trying to get a decent sonogram of… you. And… our kids?" Mallory blushes, her cheeks taking on a deep red color as she listens to Aloke, clutching her tea tighter as he speaks. “Lorna actually came to me in the library, after the first dream - she seemed to think that possibly it was related to my telepathy. But, Thomas hasn’t had /any/ of these dreams. I asked. Least of all any with me, and he and I have shared dreams before,” Mallory babbles, her tone edged with frustration, “Professor Xavier laid that idea to rest. There is talk that these dreams are visions, of the future. Professor Xavier seems to think that is the case. Far more widespread than just us, or just here at the school.” Mallory takes a deep breath, nodding slowly, “Yes. The second dream was us. We… we learned we were having twins.” Her voice hitches slightly at the last word, barely a whisper, her left hand dropping to rest against the flat plane of her stomach, “But…” "Did she really? I didn't think about it too much, because of all the weird dreamstuff going on lately. I meant to talk to you about it, because we were all so happy in the dream. It was nice." Aloke sips at his tea and then reaches over to set it down on the coffee table again. "But if the professors thinks they're… 'visions'. Well, wow…" A kind of dopey grin spreads across his face as he pictures something in his mind, but it evaporates when he sees Mallory's concerned expression. He reaches out to take her free hand in his and his brow furrows. "Hey, what's wrong?" “Yeah,” Mallory says quietly, setting her tea aside on the coffee table, taking a deep breath, a somewhat sad smile lifting the corners of her dark lips, “Everything seems to be going /right/ in the dreams. For us anyway.” She glances up at him, smiling at the dopey grin on his face, her hand curling around his, though the other remains on her stomach. “I…” she pauses, searching his face with her gaze, trying to work through her thoughts, “I want these to be glimpses of the future, of things to come. I want it so, so bad. As crazy as that sounds.” “But…” Mallory takes a deep breath, squeezing Aloke’s hand, “But I don’t know /how/. I…” She looks away, eyes welling with tears, “Aloke, I don’t know if I /can/ have children. I want them, God, I want them with you. But…” Her voice breaks again, shoulders slumping, words spilling out, “It was a conversation with Thomas, when we came back from India. It came up that, that due to my body heat. My mutation, because I’m unnaturally hot. Proteins denature. They fall apart above normal human body temperature. They just don’t /work./ I’ve read papers, researched, tried to find hope, find answers… Anything.” The hand on her stomach clenches, becoming clawlike against the fabric of her tunic, while the other holding Aloke’s hand is becoming warmer to the touch, “I… I might not have viable eggs. I can function at high temperatures, but eggs are different. They might… I think I'm broken.” Tears spill down her her cheeks, tiny tendrils of steam rising from the dampness, as she whispers, “I’m sorry.” "I want that too," Aloke says, his eyes glowing even brighter than his skin. His smile and his body language both communicate how happy he is hear this, but he goes quiet when Mallory continues. He reaches out to gently take her other hand as well, slowly pulling it away from her stomach. "Hey, no," he whispers. "Shh." He leans forward and kisses both of her cheeks and sits back again, holding her hands between his. "If there's anything I've learned from living at Xavier's is that anything is possible. Almost literally. But I mean, think about it. /Your/ body is made of proteins. Proteins which maintain or whatever it is they're supposed to do. /And/ you can burst into flame, and /get better/ afterwards." Aloke shakes his head and smiles again. "Nothing is impossible. And you're /not/ broken. Besides, they're /your/ eggs. That means they're made of your DNA. I don't know much about chemistry, but that seems like a logical conclusion to me. And maybe there is still a question here, but if the Professor thinks the dreams might be real? Well, then I think the question has already been answered." He pulls Mallory close and releases her hands to wrap his arms around her. "We're going to be parents." Mallory is trembling by the time she finishes speaking, her eyes closing when Aloke takes her hands, though tears still dampen her cheeks. Listening to Aloke’s reassurances, Mallory falls into relative quiet, an occasional sniffle escaping as she attempts to stem the flow of tears to moderate success. She nestles in to Aloke’s side when he pulls her close, resting her head against his shoulder, eyes still closed as she sits in silence for several moments. Her breathing is a little rough as she rests there, just quietly taking in the closeness and reassurances. “Thank you,” Mallory murmurs, finally, not moving from her slumped over position, arms now resting against Aloke’s hips. “Hope you’re right. I wish so hard for you to be right, for Thomas to be wrong. For this to be possible,” she continues, her voice still cracking, the tension in her shoulders falling away, now that she got this worry out in the open. “For us to be parents,” she says, a quavering note of hope in her voice, a soft almost chuckle, one hand going back to rest flat against her stomach, gentler this time, “Twins.”