Players:
Summary: The Friends of Humanity is the subject of much depression.
Date: September 11, 2012
Log Title: Who Doesn't Have Family Problems?
Rating: PG-13
Xavier Mansion - Observation Deck
Glass windows surround the circular room giving a full view of the school grounds. Two telescopes sit in front of the window for students to looks at the stars. A few comfortable chairs and couches with a few tables are placed up here for students to relax. There's a door off to one of the sides that leads up to the attic above here.
It's late in the evening, the eve before school starts back up, and Nicholas is up in the observation deck leaning against one of the windows looking out over the school grounds. As much as he's a high school student and doesn't want the summer freedom to end, he's kind of itching for classes to start back up. His laptop sits open on one of the tables, a screen saver shifting through various horse pictures displays on the screen as some alternative rock plays softly over the speakers.
Sort of just hanging out with Nick wordlessly is Quenton, though he's mostly fiddling with a telescope with his fingertips, trying to just angle it so that he could look somewhere, but getting frustrated at his failure. He's babbling away, too, while he adjusts the telescope.
"And I was like, really? So I ripped a stop sign off the ground and just threw that bitch," he mutters, while he peers up at the sky. "Anyway, his uh… his arm kind of came off, so I breezed."
Heather comes up into the observation deck, mostly because she's been wanting to peer through the telescope for a college astronomy class that she's been taking. Unfortunately, as she is supposed to view a few celestial events, this is a course that she cannot just breeze through and move onto the next credit. Her eyebrows raise and she says, after reviewing her recording, "What are you talking about?"
Nicholas isn't fully listening to Quenton, lost in his own thoughts as well, offering the occasional 'yeah' when it seems appropriate, but probably isn't. His attention is brought back to reality when Q mentions the arm. "Huh, whose arm came off?" He sounds a bit horrified. "Oh, hey Heather, nah much, just listening to Quenton talk about….something."
"Some Friend of Humanity guy, down in Hell's Kitchen, was trying to shoot us," Quenton says, a little quietly, glancing between Heather and Nicholas. "And… Cloud did some weird absorbing thing and killed a guy. But I was trying to save this french kid with hair like Sage's," he explains, holding up his hands defensively.
"Cloud killed a guy?" repeats Heather, tilting her head slightly. "I thought he had more control than that. That's rather surprising. He is not my optimal choice in mental scenarios run where I have a crime fighting partner, but he is not the lowest either. Friend of Humanity people are a bit enthusiastic about their methods. It is some times difficult to achieve the correct balance of violence."
"I really hate those guys." Nicholas mutters before echoing Heather, but with a bit more of a surprised and nervous tone. "Cloud killed a guy?! Like the Cloud that was in the Danger Room session with us and there when Miwa went full bitch?" He just has a hard time thinking about his friends killing others, including Quenton. "Though if they were shooting at you guys….everyone's okay right?"
"Uh, I think so, they pretty much scattered," Quenton mutters, furrowing his brow, glancing between Nick and Heather. "To be fair, the dude shot Cloud," he claims, shrugging his shoulders, going back to fiddling with the telescope. That's Quenton for you. Still, he's not even looking at the two others, trying to avoid them with his gaze. "I sort of pinned the other guys to the wall with a van, but I didn't kill anyone this time," he mutters, a little defensively.
Nicholas turns around and leans against the window before sliding to the ground in a sitting position, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is this what the rest of our lives are going to be?" He asks to no one in particular. "Good luck ever having a life again, tough luck that you're born that way. I really hate those guys, so much. I wish, it didn't matter but I know that's not true." He bangs his head lightly back on the wall a few times in frustration. "They don't care if they kill us but why do I care so much that we kill them?"
"Look, I did what I had to do," Quenton mutters defensively, nose giving a twitch, his fingers finding his cheek. "The kid with the long hair wasn't bullet proof. I threw the stop sign, I didn't know I'd… take a guy's arm off. Then I moved a car in front of him, I don't know if I can lift one yet. Then I jumped up and pushed their van and them against a wall. That's what happened. Cloud got shot, he was trying to heal himself. Maybe he was in shock while he was trying to, I went into shock the first time I got shot before I raged."
"Yes, the Friends of Humanity are insane and unpleasant, but at least for me, they are hardly the reason my life will never be the same. Well, not the only reason. They do seem to quite dislike me during our encounters," says Heather, shrugging lightly, before she nods to Quenton, "Yes, I know. I do not think you did much more than you thought you had to… I am not intending on judging and, in fact, it is rather hard for me to judge as I have a rather neutral opinion of the whole scenario described to me, at least when it comes to your actions and Cloud's actions. I am only considering it in terms of damage done."
Nicholas gives Heather one of those 'if looks could kill' dirty looks before looking over at Quenton. "No, I don't blame you for any of it Quenton. It's just, it doesn't matter what we do, they'll find a way to make us out to be a monster. It just doesn't matter." He says sounding frustrated. "It just sucks. I don't go into shock, I just have the occasional panic attacks."
"Well, I mean, I was shot. You ever got shot, Nick?" Quenton wonders, squinting. It is a possibility. He leans against the glass wall, eyeing the telescope ruefully. "Stupid thing," he mutters, then peering up at the sky.
"I am not sure if I've been shot," says Heather, rather truthfully, glancing down at her watch for a moment. She catches Nicholas's look and then says, "I apologize if I have said something to upset you. I am not socially adept, and I ask your patience and understanding, and occasionally I will say things that upset people without realizing it…"
"The only time I went to New York City, there was an Anti Mutant demonstration, I started having a panic attack and I kind of remember being grazed by a bullet but someone healed me. It's kind of all a blur." Nicholas admits running a hand through his blond hair. "I've been stabbed, and I've been physically beaten pretty badly…" He says shaking his head. "Well my life was changed drastically cause of people like those Friends of Humanity assholes, still a sore subject."
"Ugh, stabbed, that's a bad one," Quenton mutters, shaking his head. "You ever got stabbed, Heather?" His hand moves to his ribs, rubbing the side of it, before crossing his arms over his chest, glancing up at the ceiling a moment. "You had a panic attack when you got shot?" he also asks of Nick, glancing down at him, quirking a brow.
"Stabbed? I don't know. I know I have experienced being shot and stabbed, but I do not know if I have been shot or stabbed," says Heather, tilting her head curiously, tapping her lips a couple of times. "I have scars that indicate other injuries, which likely means they were tangible events, such as the burn scars on my arms." She pulls down her sleeve passively to show a burn scar where a metal plate fused with the skin on her arm. Because of Xavier's technology, it healed rather well, but it left a nasty mark. She then notes to Nicholas, "I know that it is a hard thing to bear when people so full of hate lash out… I apologize if I have offended you. I assure you that I do not look upon the Friends of Humanity with neutrality… I view them with bitter contempt, in fact."
"Yeah, but it wasn't cause I got shot." Nicholas admits. "I have a hard time dealing with seeing Anti-Mutant things cause I just remember that day. I remember everything and I just panic." He says quietly. "Same thing when I see fire now, didn't even realize I was scared of it until I saw it and it just causes my insides to freeze up. I…I don't know how much I told you cause I don't like telling people this but, the Purifiers didn't just kill my parents quickly or anything, I had to watch them….and….the images, I see them still. Especially when I sleep." He looks over at Heather. "How does that work? The Danger Room?"
"Yeah. You… never told me that," Quenton says, quietly, watching Nicholas with those red eyes before he rubs his face with his hand, covering the self-inflicted scars there. His eyes peer at the burn mark, before his gloved hand quickly steals behind his back, and he clears his throat. "Sorry, man." Yes. Quenton apologized. Heather's already seen him at his most vulnerable and Nicholas and him have these bromantic moments anyway. "Don't tell anyone I said that, though," he still thinks to add.
Heather shrugs at Nicholas's question, "I will tell a very long story in a very short way. My parents are psychopaths. I mean, I do not say that in a fit of teenage pique. They are literally psychopaths, it says right on their files in big red letters, 'Psychopath'. At least that is how I had imagined it would read on their files. My father is an illusionist, my mother a booster of powers. Since I was a baby girl, I was kept in the World of Illusion. While sometimes there were enjoyable moments, the majority of it was torment, where I would subjectively experience rather strong adverse events, such as being shot, or stabbed, or having my flesh melt off my bones in lava. Due to their combination of powers, all such events were real, and in fact, I have never had an experience that wasn't just like it was in the World of Illusions… and so, injuries and fears blur together for me. I spent thirteen years in the World of Illusion, and then another two subjective ones recently. They are all that I fear, as
"Aside perhaps from the White Prison." She shrugs and glances off. "The Danger Room is a poor simulator of pain, actually. But… I know what it is to feel panic, when the past is stirred up…"
"Don't worry Quenton, I won't. I keep telling the new kids who ask that you're a horrible jerk and they should avoid you at all costs." It's hard to tell if Nick's being serious since he doesn't smile at all when saying that. "That sucks Heather, I guess compared to that I'm lucky. At least my parents were…" He stops speaking for a bit to take a few deep breaths and thumps his head against the wall before speaking again. "They were awesome."
Quenton just nods, apparently accepting Nicholas's claim, while his eyes dart over to the boy at the mention of his parents. He flinches just a little, but opts to rmeain silent, just tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling of the deck, scratching at the face he was just trying to soothe.
"I view my past with mostly neutrality. If it didn't pass as it did, then I wouldn't be as I am, and the person who I am would be dead, or worse, never would have existed in the first place," says Heather, voice tinged with just a hint of emotion that betrays the statement. "It is good to have good memories of those you love… Even if they pass, even if that passing is painful, such memories can bring comfort. Were they still alive, they would love you… so if you think on your memories, and think what they would consider of you now, your memories love you too. It is not the same, perhaps, but it is still a sort of love, comfort and solace."
"No, that's mostly B.S." Nicholas says in response to Heather's words. "It's always easy to talk about the good things or see the brighter bits when you're on the other side of the fence. The only comfort is trying not to think about it, and trust me, I do everything I can not to think about it." It's why he spends so much time with Orion. He looks over at Quenton and frowns. "Sorry man, I didn't mean to bring down the mood, I know no one care to listen to some kid whine about his problems."
Quenton's shoulders jerk up at that. "How else are you going to get them out, talking to a mirror?" he wonders, quietly, glancing at his reflection. "I have the benefit of having my mother still be alive. If you call whatever she is living," he says, lowly. "You guys got it worse then I do. I'm sorry about that. Besides, I whine more then you do," he claims, wiping bloody fingers on his shirt. "I just have a different tone."
Heather crosses her arms across herself for a couple of moments. "I have lost people I loved. They may not have been real, but… extrapolating from behaviour and interactions that behaved something like friendship and familial love… but I am not unfamiliar with what it is to lose. I take comfort in these relationships and how they have affected me." She brushes her fingers through her hair, untangling the strands as she works through it now. "It is heartbreaking to know that people I loved have ceased existing, or never existed at all. If you imagine hard enough, it is almost as if-" As an emotion briefly passes over her face, Heather cuts herself off, her face returning to a mask of neutrality, and glances between Quenton and Nicholas, shrugging. "I have a weak grasp of social things, I suppose."
Nicholas shrugs at Quenton. "She's not your Mother anymore, in some ways, I almost thing it's worse. I really don't know who has it worse than who, it's all perspective. I guess my problem is I can't get over it, I don't even know what to do to get over it. They died because of me, and there was nothing I could do. Even Bodie had to die cause of me and….I don't know what to do."
"Yeah, well…." Quenton trails off, shrugging his shoulders as well, glancing over to Heather. "You sounded different. A little. Back there. He doesn't catch the brief flicker of emotion on her face, apparently, but he did catch the change in tone. "Anyway, we still need to go back and… I don't know. See what's what there," he murmurs to Nick. "We gotta face our demons."
Heather tilts her head curiously at Quenton's comment and she assures, "My voice has remained constant over time, within what I suspect is the standard deviation of fluctuation, but I will check my recorder for problems. Thank you for letting me know. And who has things worse is irrelevant. We have our subjective experiences, to ourselves, and because of the vivid subjective experiences, we have each had it the worst. What is not irrelevant is our present state." She looks towards Nicholas and tilts her head, "You believe that it is your fault that they died? You do their murderers a service by taking on their guilt."
"It is my fault, they would still be alive if I wasn't a mutant. I know it's not my fault that they're assholes, but, I should have died with them at least or…or, something." Nicholas complains, he doesn't know Heather that well so he doesn't pick up on the changes in her voice or on her face, he just figures that's normal. "I'll be honest Q, I'm scared to go back there."
"That's why you'll have me there," Quenton suggests, shrugging his shoulders. "We'll face it together. I haven't visited my father's grave since I…" He rolls his tongue in his cheek a moment. "So tell you what. We go back there, and then you'll come with me to visit my dad's grave. Deal?" He asks, tilting his head to one side, glancing over at Heather a moment and squinting. "Okay. Machine broke or something then."
Heather glances down towards the recording device, tapping it lightly with a finger just once, though her light touch makes a rather loud 'clack!' at the contact, and she shrugs a few times rapidly. She then says to Nicholas, "Ah. I see. If you died with them, you would feel better. It makes sense, death is unlikely to be a negative experience, and pain is certainly a negative one… if you think you should have saved them, I know that being helpless is hard. A person might run scenarios over and over again in their head to try and determine how the outcome could have been changed. And when a scenario where everything finishes happily is imagined, then there can be much regret… Or is it something else still?"
"Deal. If you don't mind and if Shane wants to come along, she'd be welcome too since she's also a good friend." Shane is just one of the few friends that Nicholas feels really close to at Xavier's. "Somehow hearing it out loud makes it worse Heather. I know have problems but to hear them in such detail…so, I should probably head to the dorms soon, try to get a few hours of sleep before school tomorrow."
Quenton licks his lips, nodding, his fingers lifting to dig into his cheek again, glancing between Nick and heather. "Of course Shane could come," he mumbles. Of course. His eyes lift to the ceiling at the mention of the oft pink-haired girl, and his fingers relax, hand dropping. He stops digging into his face. "Alright. I'm going to stay out here and… I don't fucking know. Go back to training." Fiddling, he means.
"I am here to look at stars. I will look at stars. I am sorry that my saying things out loud makes things worse, and I bid you a good night…" says Heather, nodding a couple of times. "I think that my methods for dealing with problems are not the norm… I should not try to extend them upon others." At least not out loud.
Nicholas pushes himself up and rubs the back of his head. "This is as good of place as any here to hang out all night." He's done it a few times himself. "If I can't sleep or if I wake up in the middle of the night and can't sleep I'll come back up here." Which is quite likely. "You two have a good night. Thanks Q and sorry Heather." He gives a wave then packs up his laptop and takes the elevator down to the first floor.
