ArchivedLogs:Cerebral
| Cerebral | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2015-01-27 Part of future past TP. |
| Location
<XS> Cerebro - B2 | |
Large and gleaming and spherical, Cerebro is, in some ways, the heart of Xavier's, though few would know it. The tool that brought many to the school, this room's rounded walls hold the power to amplify psionic power -- but only for those with the ability to wield it. The narrow bridge out to the center of Cerebro is one that not many have the strength to return from. Tread carefully. Outside it's been stormy. Blizzardy. White-out. Not that that stops a boarding school from having classes. Flicker's classes have been cancelled for the day, though, which is a good thing, since he's stuck here -- fretting. He's done a lot of fretting in the kitchen, some fretting in the gym, some fretting in the Danger Room. A fair amount in the Visitor wing suite he's sharing with Jax right now. But some back-of-the-mind tug has pulled him back down, now. Pacing, at the moment, up and down the corridor, his boots rather audible in the otherwise empty space. He doesn't /watch/ the door to Cerebro. Doesn't need to watch it. His pacing stops before it opens, eyes shifting towards the door even before there's anything there to actually be seen. That feel in the back of Flicker's mind has been growing (growing growing growing) in the past day. At first noticeably, swelling with a drastic increase at each mind added to the pool -- but once the pool became an ocean each new consciousness that trickled in was less and less distinct. By now it's almost /calm/, quiet, a soft background murmur. Oddly gentle, oddly distant, though there's a slow firmer tug that pulls Flicker's attention towards the door in the moments before opening. When the door finally opens it's not Hive opening it. The Professor is first to exit. A quiet whir of wheels, only a small nod of acknowledgment given to Flicker. Inside the vast rounded walls beyond, Hive -- looks much the same as he did before, really. Sweatshirt and jeans and boots only now he's slumped boneless-tired against the console at the end of the narrow bridge, blank unfocused eyes tipped downwards past the headpiece that no longer sits on his head. Flicker barely acknowledges the Professor, either. A small flick of eyes. Maybe a small tip of head. But most of his attention is pulled forward. Into Cerebro -- where he is in a heartbeat and a shimmerblur of motion, arm sliding around underneath Hive's. His head nudges up beneath the other man's, pushing Hive a little more upright out of the slump. He straightens, lifting his friend up and away from the center console. There's a /push/, in his mind. Reaching, searching. Pressing against that murmur in back of his mind like he's straining to hear -- something, as he starts to jump them up and out of the room. Hive doesn't lean into Flicker so much as /slump/ into Flicker, a bony deadweight in the teleporter's arm. There's not much to hear. A vast ceaseless sussurating of voices. Endless and indistinct. | |
