Players:
Summary: Quenton realizes that his family hasn't been in contact….
Date: January 23, 2012
Log Title: Gone Missing!
Rating: PG-13
Xavier Mansion - Attic
Every wall is made of glass up to the domed ceiling. Storm has really done her work up here over time and turned it into quite the indoor garden. The room is separated into different parts for the different plants that are in there. There are flowers, vegetable plants, herbs, shrubs, small trees and much more. There are plants that shouldn't even be able to be found in this northern climate but they thrive up here. Anyone wanting to come up here for fresh herbs, fruit or vegetables are welcome to steal from the indoor garden. Depending on the time of year, various different species of flowers and different fruits and vegetables grow. In one area there are a few small fountains and a bench with some fresh dirt on the the ground with trees and plants all around. It seems like a good spot for meditation.
Since it's dinner time, Sage is upstairs in the attack gathering what vegetables he can. He's got a small basket held by a few dreadlocks as he looks at the peppers. He hums to himself as he looks at the various red and green peppers, looking at them closely. The teen is just in a pair of socks and his normal hippie attire, his usual smile on his face.
Dinner time is for losers, Quenton keeps telling himself. Eating an apple delicately as possible. Taking small bites. Letting it rest in his palm. He's been sleeping up here when he couldn't get through the door, to keep away from potential Portal players. He eats quietly, glancing over at Sage as he sees examining peppers. "Hey, man," he greets.
Heather ascends into the Attic, wearing her full squad gear, and goggles concealing her eyes. The young woman is wearing a headset for the time being, and she says, "Hello," through the sound system that seems essentially taped onto her to all those in the room. "How can you tell between the edible and the inedible?"
A smile spreads across Sage's face as he hears his roommates voice and turns to look at Quenton. "Hello Quenton! How are you doing mate? I just got your late Christmas present in the mail from my Mum today." He says sounding a bit excited. Then Heather joins the group and there's a smile from Sage. "Hello, and I've just learned which is which, most of the fruits and vegetables here are edible."
"I'll have to buy you something. I just… can't get ahold of my parents. They uh… they haven't called or showed up for my birthday. And I flew over and they weren't home," Quenton mutters, the rage rising in him briefly, steam briefly coming from his shoulders. He clears his throat, quieting the inner monster in him and glancing over at Heather, watching her. He doesn't reply, just grunts a surly grunt in greeting.
"The answer is: by eating them. But I will use your guidance on the matter, Sage," decides Heather, glancing about. She peers about and her eyes stop upon Quenton got about a second before she starts dashing about to gather things.
"I didn't buy you anything Quenton, so it's okay. My Mum and sisters made a quilt for you." Sage says wincing a bit as he spoiled the surprise. "You're parents, are they okay?" He asks sounding concerned. "And you had a birthday?" He's excited about the birthday but worried for Quenton at the same time. "If you have any questions about the plants here, I'll be happy to help."
"I'll still get you something, if I get my allowance or something. It stopped coming, too," Quenton comments, lifting a hand to rub at his face as he tries to track Heather with his gaze. "Maybe the mutant thing my father finally came to terms with or some shit. Doesn't matter." He clears his throat, and then pushes to his feet, settling his laptop down, an odd slim device with a strange symbol. "I'm eighteen now. Funny, that."
"You have stopped receiving allowance from your parents?" asks Heather, peering towards Quenton. "Do they use social media? You may want to check on their activity levels." She adjusts her goggles lightly and then looks towards Sage, "Are there any edible flowers? Or flowers that ought to be eaten?"
Sage gives Quenton a look of utmost concern and he walks over to his friend. "That is just awful Quenton, I hope it's some horrid misunderstanding and things will work out in the end." He can't help but be optimistic. "Well happy eighteenth birthday, what kind of cake would you like?" He asks planning on baking one for Quenton. "There are flowers that can be eaten, I can show you a few if you like."
"Maybe my parents became supervillains, like yours," comments Quenton, back on the aggressive, as if her helpful advice was an attack. "Anyway, I don't know if they did. I couldn't use a computer since the incident with Jake. And still, it's hard to use it." He glances at his laptop a moment. "And it's fine. I'd rather have a cookie then a cake or something. Harder to destroy," he says over to Sage, voice softening.
"Maybe they have," says Heather, turning to Quenton and returning his gaze level, "Or worse. They may have been manipulated or used by someone trying to get to you, to this place. It's not unheard of. Some kind of ploy. Which is why I say: Check their social media. I can do it for you if you require." The young woman furrows her brow slightly and then says to Sage, "What flowers are best eaten?"
Sage looks at Quenton with quite a bit of worry as Heather talks, believing it's all possible. "Oh I really hope your parents are well Quenton and you get in contact with them." He says before asking. "What kind of cookie? Since it's your birthday you can get which ever kind you like." He says planing to make a giant cookie. He then nods to Heather and starts to point out several different edible flowers. "Squash blossoms are quite delicious."
"My dad's the captain of the thirteenth precint," Quenton mutters, though now he looks uneasy. "Maybe I should call his job. Or something." He wets his lips. "I don't have a social network page, but their names are Derren and Olivia Michaels," he says quietly, shifting now. "And my brother and sister are William and Zoey Michaels." Quenton adds, miserably, "Peanutbutter or something."
"I have the names recorded. I will get back to you with information in relatively short order," says Heather to Quenton, nodding once. The speedster fidgets with her machine lightly for a moment and she glances towards Sage and then towards the squash blossoms. "Can I eat them right now? No cooking required?"
"Yes, you can eat them now, some taste better cooked but most you can eat just as is." Sage says before looking at Quenton with confusion. "What is a thirteenth precinct?" He asks not really sure. "Maybe, I really hope your Mum and Dad and your brother and sister are okay. And I don't have a social page either." He says obviously having no clue what one is.
"Precint. Uh. Police station. Sort of. They watch over districts in the city," explains Quenton to Sage, pressing his lips together tightly. He turns from the group as a large, holding up his phone now, dialing a number and holding it to his ear. "Dad's not been answering his cell phone, either," he mutters while he waits. "How's your family, Sage?"
Heather pulls out her smartphone and begins fiddling with it as she zips over towards the squash blossoms, tapping this and that before plucking one to eat, commenting, "I hate how slow load times are. I would prefer instantaneous results." She pauses for a few moments longer and starts furiously fiddling with the machine, becoming quite involved in what she's doing.
Sage watches Heather for a bit. "Do you like them?" He asks curiously as he knows not everyone enjoys eating a flower. His eyes glance to Quenton and he looks concerned. "My family is doing wonderful, I had a great holiday in England. I didn't want to come back here but I knew I had to since my control seems to lack a bit more there." He confesses.
Quenton rubs the side of his face. "You didn't want to come back?" he wonders, before clearing his throat. "That'd suck. You're like, the coolest person here. I wanted to introduce you to some uh… a new student. Named Taylor." He glaces aside at Heather, shifting restlesly.
Heather peers towards the phone for a moment and says to Quenton, "Your mother and your brother are not showing any activity beyond January 12th. Do you happen to know or suspect what your brother's password may have been, so I may check on the others?" She purses her lips for a moment and then says to Sage, "I do like it. I am rather surprised I have not heard this flavour mentioned to me before."
Sage shakes his head quickly at Quenton. "No, well, it's more I miss being home a lot, I miss my brothers and sisters and cousins and I hate departing with Cinnamon, I wish I could bring him here with me." He admits. "What are you looking up their activity on?" He says sounding confused. "That was over a week ago, I really do hope they're alright Quenton." The worried tone back in his voice.
"The number two, the word cool, the number four, and the letter you. Without spaces," Quenton grunts, while he glaces over to Heather. He shifts restlessly, then glances back at Sage. "Yeah," he murmurs, while shifting on his feet. "My dad's a hero cop. They gotta be alright. Maybe they're just on vacation. They wouldn't just… disappear." He exhales, hanging up his phone. "I can call his job."
Sophie makes her way carefully up the stairs, and comes to a stop on the landing, resting her cane in front of her. In her left hand she clutches a case for a flute, and she has a small bag slung over her shoulder. The blind girl pauses for a moment, before advancing forwards into the attic, towards the group. "Heather, Quenton, and Sage, si?" She comes to a halt close by the group, and clasps her hands around the top of her cane. "Is everyone sitting, or standing?"
"Standing, Sophie, but you may sit or stand at your comfort. There are no rules," says Heather, putting in the password that Quenton suggests and entering his brother's page on the phone. "January 12th seems to be the date. Your father last liked a comment on that date, your sister looks like she left a comment on a group before then, but nothing after. No outgoing messages on your brother's page and he seems. My goodness. Rather active prior…" She purses her lips and considers for a few moments longer, "Yes. Call his job, Quenton. Would you like for me to contact Professor Frost?" She glances towards Sage and says, "I am checking for their info on social networking sites like Facebook, and then Twitter. People unintentionally leave a lot of clues on such places as to what they are doing… I will check if your family had anything planned that would have them leaving January 12th, but I suspect your brother would continue updating via phone if they were on vacation."
Sage looks at Quenton extremely worried at the news. He walks over to him and puts a hand gently on his shoulder. "It'll be okay Quenton, and wow, you're Dad is a hero?" He says trying to keep his outlook positive. "Hello Sophie, we are all standing at the moment. How are you this eveining?"
"Standing," Quenton mutters distractedly, glancing over towards Sophie a moment. "Sorry about knocking you down." He wets his lips needlessly, the hand on his shoulder dissipating some of the steam that had began to rise at Heather's words, his body blazing hot to the touch. "I'm going to call his job, if something's wrong, I'll… talk to Frost myself. I don't want to drag others anymore into my drama." He clears his throat, now, flipping his phone open. "People hate drama." And then the dialing. "He's a good cop. He's even took down a supervillain once."
Sophie unships her bag from her shoulder and sets it down gently on the floor. "I shall stand also then," she murmurs, taking the opportunity to set her flute down beside the bag. "I was going to practice playing my flute, but it sounds like there is much more serious business afoot, si?" She tilts her head towards Quenton, and bobs her head. "It is alright, Quenton, I was not hurt. I forgive you." Her lips quirk upwards in a pleasant smile. "If you are facing difficult times, then do not be afraid to share you worries, si? I am sure we would all be happy to help in any way we can, even if it is only to listen."
Heather puts her phone away and says, "I will continue investigating and I will keep you updated on the matter, whatever I find, no matter how fine. You know these people, I do not. Where I would miss something, you may not." The young woman raises her goggles up to her forehead and says to Quenton, "I apologize if I am alarming you, but I feel it is better to gather information when unnecessary than to let things lie when investigation is required."
"Quenton, this is you're family, you're allowed to be upset." Sage says to his roommate. Heck he's definitely his shared of scared and worried for Quenton. "I'm sure your father is a great man." He give his friend a reassuring smile before looking around. "Unfortunately I must head downstairs and tend to some things. If you need anything Quenton, please let me know." He says before looking to Heather and Sophie. "Good evening Heather and Sophie, I hope to see you both soon." He says as he heads down stairs to the kitchen to get to work on Quenton's birthday cookies.
Quenton nods distractedly to the words of comfort, not turning to aggression right now, despite his obvious distress, though Sage's retreat causes more steam to rise from his skin as he keeps his phone to his ear. "Uh, yeah, hey, it's Quenton Michaels, the Captain's son? Yeah. Yeah, the uh, the one who did all of that." Silence, as he glances worriedly over to Heather and Sophia. "Have you seen my dad?" He nods slightly, as if the officer could see him. "Oh. Did he - right. Yeah. Alright, thanks." The phone is flipped close and he furrows his brow. "No calling in sick. Just… disappeared. There's a missing persons report on this."
Sophie bites her bottom lip as the news comes in from the place Quenton has called. "Quenton, I am sorry," she murmurs. "Please… do not be ashamed or afraid to talk to us, si? This is difficult, and I do not think you should try to face it alone." She glances sideways, and bobs her head in Sage's general direction. "We shall speak again soon Sage, I am sure. Be well, si?" She pauses, chewing over her words. "I think you have great help in Heather. She likes to research things. But she is right… you should talk to the headmistress."
Heather nods at Quenton and says, "It is best, I think, to involve Emma Frost at this time. I am concerned any time there is any threat to a student in this school, directly or indirectly…" She considers for a few moments and says, "My abilities are at your disposal as I am no longer a student here, but you will find out more information from the headmistress on how to proceed."
"You're no longer a student? But you're wearing a squad uniform," Quenton says, furrowing his brow, then shaking his head, while he drives his knuckles into his temple. "I'll tell Miss Frost," he agrees quietly, glancing over towards the door now, releasing a breath. "I'll do that. Then I'll… I don't know. I'll wait," he says miserably.
Sophie bobs her head in agreement. "That is wise," she replies. "I understand that it is hard to wait. Would you like me to pray for your family, Quenton? …Or perhaps for you?" She tilts her head towards Heather, and hmms softly. "Well, I am still a student… and I am sure I have no powers or skills are useful as yours to the task, Heather. But if there is anything I can do… I would not hesitate to help."
"They still have custody over me," says Heather to Quenton, "And I'm still here for a reason. It's either here or a mental institution, until Dr. Parker-Mayfair clears me, and I believe here is preferable. That I was a student was incidental to the reason I'm here. I am petitioning to become a member of staff and take distance education courses at my own pace." The young woman glances towards Sophie and says, "We all possess worth." She purses her lips lightly and says towards Quenton, "I shall hope for the best outcome for you."
"I… you don't gotta pray, Sophie. I mean… well. I mean, if you think it will help," Quenton mumbles, seeming uncertain and confused, beating back the monster inside him, fighting it back. "I don't know. I'll be alright, yeah? They'll be alright, too." He seems very uncertain, brow furrowed, steam rising still. "I'll find a reason to uh… stay out of trouble. Not try and go out there and handle things myself. Something like that." The rage doesn't like that, pushing on his lungs, trying to make him scream. "Thank you, Heather. Sorry about the mental health thing."
Sophie's lips quirk upwards in a light smile. "Praying always helps," she replies. "Even if all it does is help you to feel as though you are doing something, si? …I can help you to do so, if you wish." She nods once. "I did not men to imply that I did not, Heather. Perhaps I spoke incorrectly; English is not my first language, afterall. …And I shall pray for you, too, if that is alright."
"I shall not be an impediment to your prayer," says Heather, glancing towards Sophie, "Feel free to pray for whoever you feel compelled to." She looks towards Quenton for a few moments before dashing over and awkwardly attempting to place one of those quick hands on his shoulder.
He shrugs his shoulders now, while he rubs his head, fighting the headache that comes as the monster attacks there, still trying to find a way out. "I'll be okay. I don't… pray much anymore." He releases a breath. "But my family might need it," Quenton agrees, the sudden hand on his shoulder calming him somewhat, steam dissipating. "I'm going to stop the drama llama-ing."
"I am sorry to hear that you do not pray; I hope you can find the will to do so again someday, si?" Sophie taps her cane around herself until she finds the bench. She pats the seat, and sits down, carefully arranging her skirt before sitting up straight. "And perhaps this is a positive step for you, then? I hope you will find yourself to be happier for it, once we have located your family, of course." She bobs her head towards Heather, before reaching up to readjust her blindfold, as it had begun to slip. "Thank you, Heather," she murmurs. "And I hope you get your wish, to join the staff here. I think you would make a fine teacher."
Heather nods lightly at Sophie and says, "I imagine I will do decently, I am talented in mathematics and physics and I've been taking college courses relating to those fields already." She glances on over towards Quenton, who she still has a hand on in her awkward bid to be comforting. "It will be okay. That is all there is for me to say on the matter for the time being." She nods once, confidently.
"I'm talented in punching things. The one time that will come in handy I can't do it, though," mutters Quenton, while he glances at the hand in his shoulder, hand dropping to his side, his own, anyway. "Thank you." He doesn't know what else to say. Comforting is the last thing he'd expect from his classmates. Maybe this will be inspiration to be nicer to them when his family's all good and saved.
Sophie's smile deepens, and she bows her head; if she could see, she would be staring at her knees. "You are welcome," she murmurs simply. "I… am not sure what I would say I am talented in, since we are admitting our strengths. Language, music, and healing, I suppose." She shrugs her shoulders lightly. "And I hope in being a comfort to people who are hurting."
Heather pats Quenton's shoulder a couple more times before dropping her hand and folding them behind her back, offering him a nod in response to his thanks. "Are we discussing our strengths? I did not realize that's what was happening."
"No. I was being sarcastic. I mean. If you want. I don't know." Quenton shrugs his shoulders, while he raises a hand to rub at his neck, looking worried, exhaling shallowly. "Uh. What about your family, Heather? I never hear a thing about them, or something." Change the subject. Calm the rage down. That's it.
"Actually," Sophie murmurs, "Based on what I know of Heather's family, and of course what I know of my own… I think you might have the most 'normal' family out of the three of us, Quenton." She snaps her cane into itself, and clasps her hands over her lap. "But, it is not for me to steal Heather's thunder; I will let her explain."
"You had mentioned that you knew they were supervillains?" says Heather, tilting her head towards Quenton inquisitively, "They are presently in prison again after their relatively recent escape. They are manipulative, cruel and worthless human beings."
"Ah. Right. Sorry," Quenton murmurs, nodding slightly, sheepishly jerking his gaze away. "Sorry." He glances over to Sophia a moment. "I heard about that… world thing. Sorry. My head's… all messed up right now. What about you, Sophia?" he wonders, while he rubs his face.
Sophie shrugs her shoulders lightly. "My father, I have never met," she murmurs. "My mother never spoke of him. My sister and I grew up in an orphanage, run by the nuns in Santa Margarita. …The children there and the women of the convent are more family to me than my real family, except my sister." She brushes her fingers through her hair, and sighs softly. "I have not spoken to my sister in a very long time. I do wish that she would write."
Heather shrugs and says, "I am indifferent to what my parents are. They shaped me to be in my present condition, which has, in the past, saved students' lives. I am useful. I do not like them, but they are relevant to my history. Without them I would not exist." She looks towards Sophie, and listens to the young woman's speaking. "Is writing the only way to keep in touch?"
"I'm sorry," Quenton mutters to Sophie, his distress making him sympathetic, too, while he shifts on his feet, wetting his lips now. "Sorry to both of you. I guess my life is more normal then I think it is. I never thought much about the lives of others, and I suppose that's what got me in trouble with Taylor yesterday, too." He presses his lips tightly.
"It is," Sophie affirms. "Especially considering my sister's present… disagreement with the law. Talking to her is hard… and she is very angry with herself, and unforgiving most of the time. I do wish she would view herself in a better light." The blind girl scratches at the back of her head, and nods towards Quenton. "Si," she observes. "And no, at the same time. Your life is your life, and you should not judge it by the merits of Heathers, or mine. That we might have had more chaotic family lives does not lessen the importance of your own experiences."
"Got you in trouble with Taylor?" repeats Heather, seeming confused, before she looks towards Sophie and then shrugs, "My life is my fate to have. Better myself than anyone else to live it, as it has guided me to a present existence. It may have cracked my sanity, or so they say, but it may have shattered others. I suppose I seldom think too much about the lives of others either. It is not something to feel guilty over."
"Just a new student," dismisses Quenton, clearing his throat, shoulders shrugging as he glances aside at Heather now, hands sliding into his pockets, shifting n his feet now, rubbing at the side of his face. "Taylor's cool, so uh…" Aggression? Maybe. "No one mess with him, or I'll swing on you." As if either of the girls woulld.
Sophie perks an eyebrow upwards, above her blindfold. "I typically try not to 'mess' with anyone," she replies. "I do not know Taylor very well; I only met him properly last night, just after you left the library, Quenton. I do not know his powers or anything yet… and if you are ever angry with me, Quenton, I would prefer that you do not hit me; I can heal, but I cannot heal myself. Only others." She shrugs her shoulders lightly. "Taylor did not sound particularly happy last night, though. I do hope he is alright."
"I shall keep it in mind, though I've never met him, that I should not mess with him," says Heather, raising her eyebrow lightly, "I would prefer that you not hurt me as well. My abilities afford me a lot of protection from physical harm, but I've heard that you are exceptionally strong. I'd prefer not to test whether my durability is up to the task."
"I… well. I'd probably not really hit either of you," Quenton replies, now, admitting this with a grunt, jerking his gaze over to the wall, shrugging his shoulders roughly. "But you don't say that to anyone, or I'll… have strong words with you." At this, he picks an apple from one of the trees, delicately plucking it by the stem, very careful with his movements.
"Strong words are fine," Sophie replies, "Just so long as they are not rude words." She smiles pleasantly, and shifts her hands to clasp behind her head. "Truely, Quenton, neither of us have any wish to upset you, or the people you care about. Just. understand you are not the only one with challenges, si? Your mutation has left you with a hard time controlling your anger; Heather must speak to us with a tape recorder, and I am blind. It is only how we overcome the challanges that matters, I think."
"Well, you do not see it, but I'm actually using a headset attached to a recorder now, Sophie. My technology is progressing," says Heather to the other girl, shrugging lightly, "Challenges are merely obstacles to overcome, in any case."
"According to some of the teachers, my anger is part of my power. Fuels my strength. I don't know. I still need to get both under control." Quenton bites into the apple, a nibble, really, so as not to destroy the apple. After swallowing, he grunts, "Issue is, whenever I let… the anger out, I lose more control after it's over." He glances over at Heather now. "I imagine you have the same issue. Powers develop, you get faster."
Sophie ahhs softly. "That is good, Heather," she murmurs. "I am glad to hear things are becoming easier." She tilts her head towards Quenton, and perks an eyebrow upwards, but otherwise says nothing; merely listening, for the moment, and waititing to hear Heather's answer.
"It's hard to control. I've gained more control over it, but my powers are also stronger. It takes effort to hold myself back, more than it takes effort to push myself forward," says Heather, nodding a few times at Quenton, "My main concern is getting caught in stoptime. It's happened before. I stopped time for a moment. Stretched it into months. It was lonely and difficult."
"That's scary," Quenton admits, wetting his lips, taking another nibble from his apple. He glances over to Sophie now, pressing his lips tightly together, before wondering, "I don't… know if this is pressing too much. Did your mutation cause your blindness? Or did you have that first?"
"It is scary. It was when I first manifested, so now I am rather conservative with how much I use stoptime. It saps away so much energy. Which, I suppose, is because I achieve the speed of light," says Heather, tilting her head quickly. She looks towards Sophie.
Sophie shakes her head slowly. "My blindness is nothing to do with my mutation," she murmurs. "My powers manifested after I became blind. …I was hurt when the orphanage where I grew up burned to the ground, and from my injury took an infection that robbed me of my sight." She pauses, and her fingers fidget visibly around her cane. "It was very hard for the first few weeks. I… cried a lot more than I usually admit to." She stands up slowly, and snaps her cane out to full length before sweeping it around her feet. "I am used to it now… I do not mind it."
Quenton clears his throat, now, nodding over towards Sophie, shifting uncertainly on his feet, lifting a hand to slide through his hair, wetting his lips now while he glances over to Heather. "I'm sorry about that," he offers to the blind girl, hand dropping again, another bite of his apple taken. "Uh… well. You probably are going now, so… see you, Sophie." He steps out of her path, giving her a wide berth.
"If you are going, I bid you a good night, Sophie," says Heather, politely, approaching some of the other plants that Sage directed her to, sampling the flowers from those ones and collecting those that she likes.
Sophie stoops down, to retrieve her flute and satchel. "It is alright," she murmurs. "Like I said, I am used to it… I only wish people would put the marmalade jar back in the same place every time, and such things. It is a pain to have to open every jar to find the right one whenever I wish to make toast, and such like." Her cane taps softly as she makes her way back towards the stairs. "Thank you, Heather, and Quenton. I think I am going to get some sleep; perhaps we shall speak again tomrrow, si? And I shall pray for your family, Quenton." She pauses for a moment, before heading down the stairs and out of the attic.
"Thank you. I'll try and put away food if I use it. Not that I do." Quenton watches her, pressing his lips tightly together, before glancing aside at Heather now, thumbs moving to his pockets after he finishes his apple, settling it aside. "Thanks for your help. I'll talk to Frost. Hopefully she can find them. Hopefully…" He trails off.
"If anyone can find them, if anyone has the proper set of resources and skills at their disposal, it is Emma Frost," says Heather, looking towards Quenton with a level gaze, "I will continue trying to find information for you, Quenton. We have an obligation to one another. This place is my family."
"I can - right. I'll just go and talk to her. I won't get involved. I probably shouldn't. It'll end up badly." Quenton scratches the back of his head, before
looking back up at Heather. "Right. Thank you, again. I can't thank you enough."
Heather nods at Quenton and says, "There's no need for thanks. A threat to your family is a threat to mine, and should be dealt with accordingly." She adjusts those goggles that obscure her eyes. "It likely is best if you don't get involved, though, you're right. You have information about them, and that information is inaccessible if you're too caught up in emotion. I may sometimes seem a cold person, but I am the way that I am to protect people."
