→ nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard

[mentis]

» WHO? Charles Xavier / OPEN.
» WHEN? Mid-June.
» WHERE? Observation deck, crew quarters, bar. ( + VARIOUS )
» WHAT? Catch-all intro log.
» WARNINGS? Mentions of substance abuse and potential suicidal ideation. Discussion of disability. Will update if anything more appears.

a. observation deck.

( He hadn't taken it in properly, the very first day. Part of him had still clung stubbornly to the hope that this was all a terrifying fever dream, and that he would wake back up in 1973 alone and safe in his mansion, talk of the future and space and a new yawning emptiness just parts of his subconscious. Now time has passed, Charles is beginning to take that for the foolish wish it was. He knows that the metal corridors that confine him are as real as he is, a miracle of science and invention keeping dozens of people from so many worlds suspended in the dark black of the night's sky.

He spends a long time on the Observation Deck. It might seem like his thoughts are troubled, from the furrow between his brows, but in fact they're mostly silent. There's something awe inspiring about the view, the planet below them, the moons he's never seen before. Sometimes he gets up to walk the length of the windows, frowning down below. Sometimes he sits as close as he can, enraptured.

Sometimes he talks to himself, habits of a scattered, speeding brain working too hard. )

"Well, space is there, and we're going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, as we set sail we ask God's blessing on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked."

( On this occasion, he realises too late that he's not alone. There's a flash of an embarrassed smile, a tip of his head towards his new companion. ) For me, it was only eleven years ago when Kennedy gave that speech. Space travel still felt like a far and distant dream. Now look at where we are. No wonder the astronauts felt small. Compared to this, everything else seems insignificant.

b. crew quarters.

( Usually Charles liked small spaces. It was a by-product of growing up with too much space. His flat in London had been cosy, two rooms, a small living space, a kitchen with peeling linoleum. He could have afforded better, but back then all he had cared about was getting himself and Raven as far away from Westchester as possible. He'd always thought it would be good for them, to live like normal people did, Charles studying and Raven with her waitressing. A lively street, pubs lining the student quarters, people of all types spilling in and out of old brick.

Looking back, that was probably his first mistake.

His freedom cost him Raven's trust. His head had gotten away from him. The shackles had been thrown off, but without realising he'd put them on her instead. He's trying not to think about that as he lies on his bunk, even though she's only a few rooms down and he could just as easily go to her. There's no point. He's done enough.

The door to his and Hank's quarters thrown open though, just so he can hear the people walking up and down the corridors. Because yes, Charles liked small spaces, but this? There's something cold about it, the grey of the room, the metal of the furnishings, the scratchy blanket that he'd tossed on the floor at some point because his sleep had been fractured until he'd woken up sweating and aching. It feels more like a coffin than he'd like to admit, his mortality staring him down from the bunk roof.

He's going to go mad here, he knows it.

Footsteps pause just beyond the door, and without looking over Charles calls out to whoever's there. ) Don't worry, I'm not dead. I'm just practising my impression of a sardine.

( He's fine, everything's fine. )

c. bar.

( Everything is very far from fine.

He can't sleep, is the thing. The trembling underneath his skin makes him feel like he's the epicentre of an earthquake, he can't settle. His thoughts have been shaken lose, so that the insidious voice he tries to smother down every day has found a foothold and is whispering directly into the bitter broken parts of his soul. He's stuck here. He's stuck on this godforsaken hunk of metal, in an empty blackness he doesn't recognise, and there's nothing he can do, nor no means of escape.

The serum is going to wear off.

He's sure it's already started, the safety it offers him receding like a tide. The fear of it is not new, but it's never quite been this pitch before. Soon, soon he'll stumble. He'll trip. He'll fall. Soon he won't be able to move at all. And the voices of his fellow prisoners will burst through him like a bullet until he's ragged with holes and bleeding out --.

Don't think about it.

Charles takes a shaking breath, squeezes his eyes shut. The bottle in front of him is three quarters empty. His mouth tastes like paint stripper. But he pours another glass anyway. He just needs to sleep. An hour, an hour and then maybe he can figure out a solution. Another glass and maybe he won't hurt quite as much. )

Does everything in space taste this shit?

( Focus on smaller things. It's easier. )

d wildcard.

i'm at athosing or discord @ Sarah#9964 if you need me. pms are also an option.

Comments

b

[bestials]

[ It's not that Hank is oblivious to Charles' mood. Conversely, Hank is so well attuned to the shifting moroseness that is Charles Xavier, lost in thought, that he knows the best way to deal with him is to just let him brood. Maybe not the healthiest method, but it's the path of least resistance.

So he's taken to exploring their new suite, opening all the cupboards, as it were, seeing what they have to work with. Which leads to a curious discovery in three en suite. ]

Is this your hairbrush? I found it next to the sink.

[mentis]

( He makes a noise in response, a kind of puff of air that doesn't really have any meaning beyond general acknowledgement. )

Hank, if by some miracle I'd known about this space adventure in advance, I still wouldn't have packed a hairbrush. I haven't been able to find mine in weeks.

( He threw it somewhere. It's gone now, lost in the wreck of his bedroom. )

Maybe one of the women used this place to get dressed and left it behind.

[bestials]

[ Charles' hair is a bit messy, Hank muses. He would offer to find Charles' lost hairbrush, because that's just what he does these days, pick up after Charles, but they're a long way away from Westchester. ]

Well... now you have this one. I guess.

[ He turns to go back into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder, ] I'll clean the hair out of it.

[mentis]

I'm not using someone else's hairbrush.

( What kind of junkie do you think he is? He still has standards. )

Put it outside, whoever left it might come and claim it.

( Rolling over onto his side, Charles peers out at Hank through shadowed eyes and greasy hair. Talk of hair is forcing him to focus on things he doesn't want to. )

How do you feel, Hank?

a

[possidetur]

It still does feel like a dream.

( she was here, vanessa knew that she was. she knew that it was real, it felt so painfully real, but she couldn't help but still wish that it was a dream, that she could wake somewhere familiar, somewhere she didn't feel so lost )

Do you know the entire speech?

( she's never heard it before )

[mentis]

Sadly, no. It was a very long speech.

( He offers her another smile though. ) I remember hearing it on the radio. We were going to land a man on the moon. So many people said it couldn't be done, but that's the beauty of the human race. They won't let themselves be told they can't do something.

( Even if Charles had been anything but a scientist, he still would have felt a thrill in whatever spirit he possessed. The Space Race held so much promise, so much potential. He hasn't been a teacher in some time, but his tone of voice and the way he moves his hands are encouraging and excited. ) JFK said, " For the eyes of the world now look into space, to the moon and to the planets beyond, and we have vowed that we shall not see it governed by a hostile flag of conquest, but by a banner of freedom and peace." That bit in particular stayed with me. It held so much hope, so much belief in us as a race. That we could put aside our reasons for fighting in order to move forward together. Leave our tiny rock and head out into the stars.

[possidetur]

( there's a smile and vanessa takes a step closer,catching sight of the animation in his hands. it was the first time that she'd heard a story like this. people either lived in space or had heard of it, but she'd never heard how it had come about )

And did you? ( they had been determined but who had been right ) Did someone make it?

[mentis]

They did. Yuri Gagarin was the first man to ever complete a circuit of the solar system in a space shuttle, but seven years after this speech, two US astronauts finally made it to the moon. They literally stepped out on to it. That's where the phrase "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" comes from. Armstrong's words as he stepped onto the surface.

( A pause, as he becomes more aware of himself. )

Although, I imagine you're either not from a time where space travel is talked about? Or a world? You'll have to forgive me for wittering on.

A

[morethan084]

[Daisy likes coming to the observation deck too. Especially when it’s quiet and she can just think about anything and everything. This time she isn’t alone when she arrives though, so she keeps to another side of the area as it was clear whoever he was, he came down here for the same reason she did.

Then he starts talking, and at first she thought it was to her and then realizes he’s just talking out loud. Honestly she hadn’t even realized he was quoting something until he realizes he’s not alone and mentions JFK. Smiling in sympathy for him, Daisy moves a little closer to where he was. It felt weird to talk with so much distance between them.]

It definietly makes you think about all of the things that seemed like a big deal but really weren’t.

[He was a lot further behind than she was in time, which felt weird.]

The moon landing was almost 50 years ago for me.

[mentis]

( He's already managed to work out that not everyone is from the same era as he is. In fact, not everyone is from the same universe. So Daisy's statement doesn't bother him as much as it could have. )

I imagine we've made more progress in those fifty years.

( It feels impossible, but here he is looking out into the universe. )

It was four years ago for me. We watched it on a little black and white television, everyone crowded into one room. It felt monumental. I imagine it's what religious people feel when they say they've seen God. ( He shrugs a shoulder, lose and easy. ) But even then I never imagined I'd end up somewhere like here.

[morethan084]

We’ve made a little progress since then.

[The shaggy hair definietly screams 70s, but it’s still weird to hear about time travel to this capacity. She smiles a little when he compares the experience to having seen God. The nuns at her orphanage would’ve reprimanded him for that.]

I don’t think any of us did. Unless they grew up in space.

[The only other experience she has to compare it to is being held captive on a Kree ship. In some ways she almost misses it, if only for the fact that she had her friends there.]

I’m guessing you just got here? I haven’t seen you before.

c

[veristitalian]

Yes.

[Says Jasnah, glancing up from her book at the question. At first, she'd qualified that kind of statement, tried to point out they hadn't eaten everything and maybe it was just a broken machine. But truthfully?]

All of it.

[She gives him a matter of fact sort of shrug.]

Except the water, which is usually close to true.

[mentis]

( He hasn't attempted the food yet, but with the way the alcohol burns his throat like gasoline he's not got much hope. )

Wonderful. If only they'd thought to remove our taste buds as well as our clothes.

( He should be thankful they have water. But Charles is in a Mood. Gratefulness is a rare commodity. )

[veristitalian]

Actually, that's very dangerous. There was a man in my world who was famously cursed to lose his sense of taste.

[A deal with the Nightwatcher; he'd asked for a warm home, and a table where his family would never go hungry. The cost of his good fortune had been the taste of the food on that table.]

It can be dangerous. It impedes your ability to tell when food is spoilt. He was often sick to his stomach, and learned to eat only from the same plates as his wife and children, to protect himself.

C

[solarcharged]

[ Another day, another card tower. Apollo's starting to get good at them now. Normally the bar would be quiet at this time of morning - or afternoon, or night, or whatever they were all supposed to do with the concept of time nowadays. He looks up from his work as Charles speaks, hands pausing in mid-air as he tries to settle the next two cards in to place. ]

Actually, my friend and I did find a rather nice bottle of red here on our first day...

[ But Apollo would have to blind - or half the man he is - to realise what's actually going on here. The smile turns a fraction less sunny as he stands, card tower temporarily ignored, and approaches the bar. Close but not too close. He masks his concern with good humour instead, nodding towards the mostly empty bottle on the bar top. It doesn't look like this guy is drinking for the taste of it. ]

Fair warning, though... You think space is bad? Just wait until you experience space-with-a-hangover.

[mentis]

( His shoulders stiffen a little when Apollo abandons his card tower to move over to the bar. Company while drinking used to be sought out, now he likes it when people are nearby but don't actually seek out more than a passing comment. He seems like a likeable chap though, which is why when he tries to warn Charles off there's something uncomfortably irritated settling along the ex-telepath's spine.

He'll do as he damn well pleases, which is why he drains his glass before speaking next. )

Oh, I've had practise. I'm sure I'll survive.

( He's been hungover for the last four years, is more likely. Nodding behind him as he moves to top up his drink, gripping it hard enough to disguise the shake in his hands. ) Not much entertainment in space?

[solarcharged]

[ It's strange, Apollo already feels like he knows this conversation. The set up is all too familiar to a certain someone he once knew - the biggest and brightest influence on his life (that he can remember, at least). A drunken Brit, a little bitter, a lot jaded. Female, not male, but the similarities are still there. But Jenny Sparks was capable of brilliance, bloody-minded determination and the kind of blazing moral streak that would set the world alight without leaving it in ashes. Apollo had loved that dearly about her. But this guy? Apollo has no idea what his deal is.

So Apollo just watches him as he drains the glass, unaffected by the stubborn determination of an alcoholic who will drink himself to death thank-you-very-much. Apollo shrugs mildly in reply. ]

Yeah. You probably will.

[ Probably. ]

Have you just arrived? I don't think I've seen you around here before...

A

[bu773rfly]

[well uhhhhh hey there dude.

Erika has a strange relationship with claustrophobia - at some times a total lack of it, at some times a tremendous weight of it on her back - and no antidote for it yet. Some of the teens hit the gym. Some of them drink. She stares at a projection screen until she's in a coding-induced stupor, then comes up here now and then and realigns herself with her place in the world.

i.e.: in space, in a tin can of safety, with no social skills to speak of but some-fucking-how a decent set of friendships and perhaps a good reputation?

Anyways.

Erika's habit is to pretend that people aren't there until there's a good, practical reason to acknowledge them. It's gotten her by this far. In space, everyone has their eccentricities. It doesn't strike her as unusual to be passing by a shaggy-faced adult on the deck people go to do their thinking, and for that person to be talking, and for the talking to not be at her, and for her to just listen as she passes by, making mental notes. (Note one - the man is unfamiliar. That could mean anything. Her schedule isn't too varied. Note two - that's a recitation, isn't it? Is it English he's speaking? Then it could be anything too.)

He actually looks at her and she catches it out of the corner of her eye and jumps a little.

And listens, staring awkwardly.

And fails to wonder whether the man is, like, looking for a reply, or if he's apologizing for being weird, or what, because she does quite a bit of interacting with adults these days actually and it's usually for practical, technical purposes, and the part of her head that's full of numbers and figures starts spinning away.

Kennedy, American, space travel would be...concurrent with the move from vacuum tubes to transistors, so...?] Nineteen...sixty-something?

[mentis]

Two.

( For the first time since arriving, Charles does his best to come across as the man he used to be. Professor Xavier had enough dealings with children to know that some were just painfully shy, that social interaction was a minefield to travel. He doesn't take her silence for anything but that, and so he smiles when she speaks, something encouraging in his expression. )

The Space Race, such a marvel of human ingenuity. How many people came before and looked up at the night's sky thinking of the impossibility of ever going there? And we did it. A man on the moon. Spectacular. ( He smiles, but it's dimmed a little when his gaze turns to the windows again. ) Now I'm one of those people. I never envisioned something like this.

( Don't be maudlin, Charles. )

Have you been on the station long?

[bu773rfly]

[1962 + 11 = 1973.

Maudlin, maybe. Easy to listen to, definitely. Erika's found that she likes people who live in their own worlds of interest, who talk like they're throwing open a window instead of beckoning you through the door. It's a lot simpler. Less feeling like you're in danger of tripping up and knocking something over. Less feeling like you're being watched, and condescended to. The man's rambling rings genuine, or something like it.

She's got a thin softcover binder full of pages in one hand; she taps it idly against her leg when she answers.]

Two months. Or around that long. [A second's pause.] So you're new. [The end of that sentence is turned up, too late to properly be a question, too sharp to properly be a statement.]

a

[uniqueone]

[ To say One is abrasive is an understatement. He's rude and more than a little condescending towards...well just about everyone but with a special brand of attitude toward organic life. He's been smart enough to keep that opinion to himself, thus far.
Though this man spoke as if he was from (what is to One) the distant past, One's contempt stems from much more recent events. ]

It might not be called an adventure now. Humans spread from Earth like a virus. They found planets and the moons of those planets and colonized them. Then they did what humans do best; fight each other.

[ There isn't a brain here to speak of. One is a robot and looks it; from the entirely featureless head to the fact his voice was far too deep to be anything but synthetic.

One came back to the Observation Deck on occasion but this man started speaking and then started speaking to One. No one had yet done that so One spoke back. ]

[mentis]

( Considering the fact that just the other day Charles had been informed of mutant-killing robots, you'd think he'd be a little afraid of this one. But his expression ticks into blandness, so that even the mildest spike of concern is smothered down.

The rhetoric isn't new, and Charles has to wonder if Erik has found a new bosom buddy in this strange creature. )

You're from the future, then?

( He's not going to comment on the colonialism. Not yet, anyway. Instead he keeps his curious gaze on the metal figure beside him.

#notallhumans. )

[uniqueone]

[ That might be hard since Erik is an organic organism and One is generally pretty distrusting of them. ]

That depends. AI was functioning long before they were marketed to the public. You may consider it 'the future'.

[ There was no point trying to pretend he was anything else. One looked far too inhuman. ]

a.

[supersonic]

[ Pietro comes here to think sometimes. Mostly, when he needs to get a better grasp on this place, and how to survive it. How to make sure Wanda and any of the mutants onboard survive as well. It's too easy, when you have grown used to a certain kind of hardship, to imagine another is nearly the same, but that isn't true here. He worries about being able to defend himself, about having a safe house to run to and enough food to stay there, when he should be worrying about having enough oxygen. It doesn't matter how well they're hidden if they freeze to death. The steady pulse in his mind that tells him humans are dangerous must be countered, sometimes, by the reminder that a human is the only one who can teach him to repair a hull puncture before they all implode.

This is especially true after he's spent a stretch of time with the human in question, getting along to their usual degree. (Read: not at all.) That the observation deck is already occupied by another apparent human doesn't thrill the white-haired teen, but he doesn't immediately turn around to leave, either. He listens, and softens a touch. ]

It has been only five years, for me. [ Still. At least it's not another space-man. ] Hazardous is, I think, a good word to describe this adventure. Your Kennedy was right about that much.

[ Your, because, well, even if Transia isn't technically part of the Soviet Bloc, he certainly isn't American. ]

[mentis]

Finally. ( There's an upturn at the corners of his mouth, a not quite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. ) Someone who isn't from the far-flung future. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me.

( He's not counting his seventies peers, because he assumes there's a reason for them all arriving as they did. Erik might be an anomaly with his decade on them. Or maybe he's just lying. He does that on occasion.

Charles doesn't want to think about that, so instead he focuses on the man nearby, his tone friendly and unconcerned. The accent doesn't bother him. He doesn't have quite the same fear of the cold war as everyone else. ) He was. It's a shame we lost him so soon. I can't imagine the progress we might have made. Though, I doubt even he would have considered all of this a possibility.