notsogroovy (
notsogroovy) wrote in
xfactors2017-01-25 11:22 am
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Introduction to the School
1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, NY. Also known as Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters.
It was the site of hope for dozens of students built upon the bones of a lonely childhood. Two times the school had been opened. The first attempt had been destroyed by the war and by the patriotism (or recruitment) of students and teachers who felt they were doing what was right. The second attempt would prove to be more successful, run by a headmaster who had regained his own hope.
The school, the home, was no longer a place of loneliness. Instead, there were children almost always on the move, fluttering down from the top floor, walking through walls, or just appearing with a loud Bamf. There were darker things at the school, of course. Nightmares that could boil the walls of a room if left unchecked and homesickness, sometimes for homes that had rejected them. But there were also adults who mentored these children. Pain and heartache may have still been in the house, but so too were companionship and support.
It was an air that the teachers deliberately tried to invoke since many of them hadn’t had it in their own childhoods. They’d had to hide or were hidden or were even persecuted just for being who they were. It was the teachers who had all decided that they would try to make the lives of the children easier than their own.
But that didn’t come without a cost. There were layers beneath the school, layers where some of the students were trained to protect themselves and others and to fight. The world might have seen mutants in a different light after Mystique’s rescue ten years ago, but they’d also seen what Magneto could do. Mutants might have finally been in the light, but they still weren’t always safe and that was where the X-Men came in. Hoping for a better future, but also preparing for a worse one.
And that was really what Xavier’s was: a refuge and a place to forge the next generation of mutants, ones who wouldn’t have to live in the darkness their forefathers had. And it was up to their teachers to make sure they were ready for that future.
It was the site of hope for dozens of students built upon the bones of a lonely childhood. Two times the school had been opened. The first attempt had been destroyed by the war and by the patriotism (or recruitment) of students and teachers who felt they were doing what was right. The second attempt would prove to be more successful, run by a headmaster who had regained his own hope.
The school, the home, was no longer a place of loneliness. Instead, there were children almost always on the move, fluttering down from the top floor, walking through walls, or just appearing with a loud Bamf. There were darker things at the school, of course. Nightmares that could boil the walls of a room if left unchecked and homesickness, sometimes for homes that had rejected them. But there were also adults who mentored these children. Pain and heartache may have still been in the house, but so too were companionship and support.
It was an air that the teachers deliberately tried to invoke since many of them hadn’t had it in their own childhoods. They’d had to hide or were hidden or were even persecuted just for being who they were. It was the teachers who had all decided that they would try to make the lives of the children easier than their own.
But that didn’t come without a cost. There were layers beneath the school, layers where some of the students were trained to protect themselves and others and to fight. The world might have seen mutants in a different light after Mystique’s rescue ten years ago, but they’d also seen what Magneto could do. Mutants might have finally been in the light, but they still weren’t always safe and that was where the X-Men came in. Hoping for a better future, but also preparing for a worse one.
And that was really what Xavier’s was: a refuge and a place to forge the next generation of mutants, ones who wouldn’t have to live in the darkness their forefathers had. And it was up to their teachers to make sure they were ready for that future.
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"Yeah, all right." He motions with his hand and folds his wings against his back, inhaling the crisp night air and sighing as they start to head for the entrance.
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Warren rolls his shoulders in an attempt to tamp down the rising anxiety, one hand moving for the flask in his pocket, but he hesitates. This is a school - a place where kids come to learn and in this case, train to hone mutant skills that they've got.
He lowers the hand with a gulp and turns on his heel to continue following after Erik.
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He knocks on the door and steps inside, closing the door behind him. A few moments later he comes back outside. "You can go in now, if you want."
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Is Charles going to forgive him for what he'd done? Would he be allowed to stay, maybe learn how to hone in on these new powers Apocalypse had granted him with? In the back of his mind, there was the slightest nagging feeling, pulling at his subconscious, questioning everything that had brought him to this moment: did he really want to be forgiven?
En Sabah Nur had returned his gift of flight when it had been torn away from him in the cage fights. Sure, the blue kid was only defending himself - just as Warren would have done had he gotten the chance, but that didn't mean he wasn't somewhat bitter and resentful about it. Those feelings were what made him follow the wanna-be god so willingly; he owed the man that much, since he'd given Warren something to live for again, even if it was ridding the world of all non-mutant kind.
Would he really be able to get through all of that?
The door opens and he pauses mid-step, frantic hazel eyes flicking toward Erik. He blinks, inhales deep and sighs the breath right back out as he starts for the door. "You, uh ... coming with?"
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Honestly, the boy's lost and didn't exactly have anywhere else to go. One of the whole reasons he'd come to America in the first place.
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He will wait outside the door though, just in case.
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He leans back against it, staring down at his feet for the moment. "Said that it would probably take some time for the other students to get used to me, but ... I won't have to sleep on the roof anymore."
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"Charles letting you stay here will help with that a lot, though."
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"Says he trusts me and that I'll do the right thing."
Which he will, thanks to his former teammate's interruption of his nighttime drinking. "Thanks," he murmurs, the edges of his lips lifting in the smallest smile. "For convincing me to come inside."
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"That is a very Charles thing to say. He means it." He has no doubt of that. Charles had kept telling him that there was good in him somewhere, and it had taken him twenty years to believe it. Hopefully Warren figures it out faster than that.
"I figure inside is more comfortable than outside."
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He nods in understanding, draws one hand up to rub the curls at the back of his head then shrugs. "He also mentioned something about 'X-Men' and offered me a position on the team," he pauses, brow furrowing in contemplation before softening again. "If I adapt well, anyway."
Speaking of outside-- "I should probably go and get my stuff off the roof."
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"You've seen what the X-men can do. There are worse groups to be part of." Though he doesn't really feel much like elaborating on how he knows that.
"It will certainly be drier if you bring it inside."
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"At least they seem like a somewhat sensible group." Stable, which is something that he needs in his life right now.
He turns on his heel and starts down the hallway toward the foyer, pausing mid-step to turn and glance over his shoulder at Erik with a silent, 'You coming?'
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"They can be sensible. Under the correct conditions." Most of the time. Pretty much they just follow Charles' lead, so the trouble comes when Charles and Erik disagree on something.
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After a quick shake of the head, Warren straightens and picks up the pace of his stride, hurrying to get outside so he can return to the roof for his things. Erik should have no trouble keeping up.
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Erik keeps up easily. "There are worse groups to be a part of."
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Good, because Warren's pace increases marginally after that slip-up, one of his arms raising to elbow the foyer door open so he can get outside.. "Heh, like the one before?"
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"Definitely not one of my better decisions." He knows that now, although he didn't care to hear it at the time.
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"You're not alone in that," he states, stretching those steel wings out and taking to the air again, reaching the edge of the roof within a few seconds then striding over to a small crevice between what he'd assumed was an observation tower and another pillar to gather his belongings, which isn't all that much.