Logs:Of Peace and Planning (Or, We Need To Talk)

Of Peace and Planning (Or, We Need To Talk)
Dramatis Personae Cerebro, Gaétan, Harm, Kavalam, K.C., Kelawini, Kurt Wagner 2.0, Lael, Marinov, Matt, Maya, Nanami, Naomi, Tasha, Tessa, Xavier	2020-08-29 "They can't possibly really mean attack the school." (Part of Final Boss: Xavier TP.)
Location NYC and Westchester
saturday. 29 august. 7:25 pm It's a quiet evening at the mansion. Here, in the recess between terms, even those students who stayed on for summer are on their break. There's going to be plenty of partying tonight, whether out in the woods, down in Salem Center, or all the way out in New York. For the faculty and administration, there's still plenty of work to be done: projects to grade, a new term to prepare, students to onboard, and on and on. But still, tonight Professor Charles Xavier isn't grading or preparing or onboarding. He's not counseling anyone, or attending any meetings, or making any introductions. Tonight, he's just brewed himself a nice cup of Earl Grey tea and settled down by the big bay window in his office to watch the sun set over the lake. Yes, this is going to be a good night. saturday. 29 august. 7:35 pm Matt has to pause more or less mid-sentence for a few beats, his breathing rapid, pain etched deep in the lines of his face. It passes mercifully quick, and he subsides into his armchair, resuming where he'd left off as if nothing was the matter. "{--I'm certainly no Shane,}" tumbles out in glib, casual French, "{but if your fellows would accept me as a go-between, I can rally some of the other adults close to this and whom we know to be safe. I can make sure Xavier is neutralized for any kind of confrontation that may come of this.}" His sunken eyes narrow fractionally. "{You don't suppose we'll need to reach out to them now, do you?}" Gaétan has been lounging on the floor, fingers scrunching into Flèche's soft fur. He frowns briefly, glances towards the window, the sun just gone and the streetlights outside glowing yellow through the curtains. "{Tch, don't kill yourself. There's barely even more trains this time on a weekend, what are they going to do?}" saturday. 29 august. 7:50 pm "This whole situation is... confusing, you know?" Kurt mumbles out, his gaze lowering to his feet as his tail flickered behind him. He stays quiet for a moment, giving Harm a quick glance before speaking further. "I, uhm -- talked to Dr. Grey." His brow furrows. "I do not think we really talked, but, I-I do not think she knew about the brain eating." He waves his hand around his head to emphasize his point. Harm has been knitting steadily -- almost compulsively -- but now the clicking of their circular needles stops, mid-stitch. "You -- oh my gods, seriously?" Their eyes are wide and frightened. "She may not have known about it, but she's loyal to the Professor, she'll definitely go to him and then he'll know we know." They turn just a shade paler. "We gotta tell the others kids." saturday. 29 august. 8:00 pm "-- not that I want to add nothin' more to your plate, Lord knows you got plenty to deal with." It's unsurprising that even over the phone, Jax sounds Kind Of Fretty. "Just don't want to let noone -- slip through the cracks." There's a looong pause before Shane answers. On the other end, his voice -- strained over the background jailhouse clamour -- is heavier than usual, a little exhaustion-frayed at its edges. A little wry. "Yeah, I guess historically around there that's occasionally been a problem." saturday. 29 august. 8:20 pm Marinov is pacing nervously in front of their schoolmates, slight twitches of their tail betray their distress. "You might be wondering why I wanted to talk to you all. Shane was our go-between. And he’s been arrested for something he didn’t do. Then, Jean Grey shows up to talk to Kurt. Just happens to bump into him. In New York fucking City.” They fold their hands behind their back and stand up straighter. “Can’t be a coincidence. She’s a telepath, loyal to him. Anything Kurt knew, she could know. Xavier’s probably got more pull than I thought… Shane’s arrest... It’s all connected…” A twitch of their ear. “So he could prep the X-Men to come out here. And… shit! We can’t deal with the fucking X-Men! But if we strike before they’re organized…” Their shoulders roll back, unsuccessful in easing some of the tension that is visible in their frame. “I know it sounds crazy. And you don’t need to come, but I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it alone. We gotta hit Xavier tonight. Come up with a plan, hit quiet, hard and fast. It’s our only shot.” They take a deep breath and fidget with their tie. “So. Who’s with me?” saturday. 29 august. 8:45 pm "An mo den dat," Nanami's words are a little muffled as she strips her dress off over her head, trading it for a pair of soccer shorts and wriggling into a running tank, "he goin get back da same kine ting he ben do." There's a brighter gleam in her expression as she finishes tugging the shirt down over her head. "Big house ovah deah got plenny yard fo bang in." "Ainokea he one akamai bugga, we gon buss him up good." Kelawini's reply is loud and emphatic. She has just stuffed herself into a sports bra and slipped on an athletic tee and is now gathering up her voluminous hair. "Shoots, one false crack on dat bolo head an he goin moemoe." She tosses her ponytail and punches her left hand with her right. "Lidat. Anyone try foa get in our way, we like plenny beef." saturday. 29 august. 8:45 pm “-and if he thinks he can keep messing with our- your- heads, he’s got another thing coming.” Naomi’s head pops out the top of her hoodie, a bit of loose thread stuck in her scales. She spins around, green eyes wide. “Right. We gotta go.” She walks a few steps, pauses. “Ain’t you coming? Ain’t you mad?” "Sure, I'm mad." Lael does not sound particularly mad. He does follow his sister, fluttering a hand at her to be still as he plucks out the loose thread caught in her scales. "But he's the most powerful telepath in the world!" His hair squirms hard, looking almost pained. "I jus want you to understand how dangerous it is." He heaves a sharp sigh and ushers his sister along. "And 'course I'm comin'." saturday. 29 august. 9:00 pm "They can't possibly really mean attack the school." Over a forkful of kale salad, Tasha's brows are raised. "You don't mean like -- violence kind of attack. I mean, Xavier is -- Xavier, right? Oh -- maybe I should talk to them, this is all getting a little out of hand. We do have to do something, of course..." Her brows are starting to inch towards a decidedly uncharacteristic frown. Tessa has been frowning a long time. She keeps frowning, poking halfheartedly at her own heavily sauced chicken-and-quinoa salad bowl. "I don't know, Tess, they have kind of a point. Like, talking is one thing but eventually --" Her teeth sink against her lower lip. Her forehead does not unwrinkle. "No, you're right. It's just --" Tasha takes a deep breath and a small mouthful of greenery. Sets her jaw determinedly after she chews it. "Okay. We can talk to them about this in the morning." saturday. 29 august. 9:20 pm Kelawini sits on the edge of the conversation pit, idly squishing a round red cushion. "I guess they're scared. We can't really blame them, but the situation is kinda urgent." She chews on her lower lip, searching the faces of her schoolmates. "But I think...there may be another way." Her gaze settles on Kavalam, with some small difficulty. "He can't mess with our heads if he doesn't know we're there." Kavalam has not been very noticeable to the other students, though he's settled on a cushion in the middle of the group. There is a briefly surreal transition, abrupt and slightly odd, as though he's suddenly been spliced into the middle of the scene where he wasn't there before. "You don't know me well -- yet," he acknowledges with a small dip of his head, "but I think, here, I can help." -saturday. 29 august. 9:50 pm The rental attendant seems uneasy. “I really should check in the system,” he mutters, more to himself than the young girl next to him. Naomi shakes her head. “You’re happy to help me. You don’t need to check the system.” Her green eyes glow, pupils narrowing into slits. The attendant nods slowly, as if in a daze. Naomi presses a little more -- “I think you’d like to give me the keys now. I think you want to go home.” It takes a moment, but finally the man holds the keys out to Naomi. “Remember to mind the clearance,” he says before walking away. Naomi lets out a soft sigh of relief, running her finger over the keys. She presses the ‘Lock’ button - a loud beep echoes through the parking garage. She smiles. saturday. 29 august. 10:45 pm It's gotten so very badly cluttered in here already. A basket of half-finished knitting on the desk, a trio of kittens climbing up his bookshelves, a half-broken bicycle occupying the corner, a long grocery shopping list somehow found its way into his hands, a pile of cracked clumsily-wrought ceramic pottery occupying the visitors' chair -- he can't even finish taking stock of the mess but here is another student, wide-eyed, stressed, pleading. Holding out -- a lizard? Of some sort? Xavier is trying to explain to the youngster in front of him that he has no idea how to care for an iguana and could not possibly be trusted with Toothless but even as he says this another student has turned up, unhappy thoughts preceding them even before they shove the hanging planter with a withered orchid in his direction. Maybe it's the orchid that turns this anxiety-heap around. Certainly something in the room is shifting, perking -- beginning, most noticeably, with the withered petals starting to brighten and flourish -- and flourish, and flourish, the plant growing and blossoming clean out of its pot to sprout into a willowy bark-skinned youth with a messy heap of vinelike curls atop his head and vest-and-slacks combo that seem tailored out of flower petals. "I have this mess handled, Charles," the golem? dryad? former-orchid? says in a quiet-crisp accent. "Just enjoy your tea." Somewhere across the mansion, Maya smiles to herself as the Professor relaxes, calmer, into a deeper sleep. saturday. 29 august. 11:30 pm Lingering at the back of the group, K.C. has been much as she always is. A little absent, a little distracted, staring off a little into space and intermittently murmuring quietly -- to herself, probably. Probably. Under Kavalam's obscuring bubble it doesn't attract much attention from anyone outside their group at least, and as they arrive at one stately mansion room she's starting to perk up. Her fingers twitch-tug at one of the myriad bright threads that only she sees -- a very familiar one. Tug, tug, tug. "Knock, knock," she murmurs, quiet. Visible only to K.C., a brown-skinned young man with unruly black curls but impeccable tailoring appears at the periphery of the little group, slouched against the wood paneling. Cerebro's avatar pushes off of the wall, all sluggishness fled, dark eyes bright and keen. His image flickers and shifts subtly when he approaches the others, and his brows furrow faintly. "Well now," he says to K.C., just a hint of received pronunciation to his quiet (digital) voice, "what have we here?" saturday. 29 august. 11:35 pm Xavier is sleeping peacefully, his head resting on his arm to act as a barrier between his head and the papers he was looking over before tiredness overtook him, spurred on by the blessed quiet of the evening. It is hard to say what it is that startles him awake, possibly because as soon as he has perceived it, the sight and sound of it has vanished from his attention. His fingers rub at his brow, and a soft groan of discomfort as he rights himself from the awkward sleeping position. He flicks off the lamp on the rich, dark cherry wood desk and starts to wheel towards the exit. A sharp, explosive pain in his cheek snaps several dimly illuminated figures into his attention, the nearest of which has eyes that glow yellow. They all tumble up before he feels the second impact of the hardwood floor. "Hey professor," says a growling, inhuman voice, "We need to talk." The dim light of the waxing gibbous moon streaming in through the window seems to fade. Tiredness overtakes the headmaster once more.