Charles Francis Xavier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
groovy_mutation) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-01-09 03:17 am
groovy_mutation) wrote in towerofanimus2012-01-09 03:17 am
So much to offer, yet nothing to give.
Characters: Charles Xavier and whomever.
Setting: Floor number twenty-five.
Format: Paragraph format, but anything is fine.
Summary: Charles laying in the meadow with his feelings. Manly tears and angst abound.
Warnings: None. G for tears?
Everything had piled up.
After finding himself needing to be rescued all the time, or not being able to help, at least not anyway that made a difference. Instead usually hurting those he tried to help... Charles was tired. He was tired and worn and he couldn't keep up the visage of being okay anymore.
Having woken up in the tower after the nightmare of all those monsters. People fighting and him not being able to do anything, just be a liability, people probably died, and everyone so close together in such pain, and the anger and the fright and everything had gotten to him, beaten down on his mind and he'd been able to do nothing but curl fingers tight in his hair and hold his head. If he'd died during it, Charles couldn't remember, didn't want to remember. But after waking up from that and feeling numb, not wanting to move or do much of anything, he figured that it would be worse for him not to get up, he'd done enough of not getting up before he'd been brought to the tower as it was.
So he'd checked to see who was in the tower, a light scan with his mind, Erik was here, Molly, others who's minds he'd touched briefly before, new minds. Minds he couldn't quite touch, but that was fine. He just wanted a basic idea as it was. Happy that he still knew people here, yet not, he decided to take a look around, see if anything had changed, if things were 'normal'. And in doing so found one of the new floors.
It was beautiful really, flowers that never seemed to end, a lovely meadow. Wheeling through it in his wheelchair he'll come to a stop eventually, peering around and inhale deeply. Eyes closing he'll let his breath out, just needing a moment, before he'll work himself out of his chair and awkwardly manage to get himself laying on his back, next to said chair, looking up from the flood of flowers around him. It's there, alone, with only his thoughts and the sea of flowers that he'll feel tears stain his cheeks, sliding down slowly. Fingers touch gingerly at the wetness and Charles will scoff at himself, before letting his hand fall beside him.
No matter how hard he tried to not let everything get to him, to be strong and help people and just do what he thought was right.
He just felt so useless.
Setting: Floor number twenty-five.
Format: Paragraph format, but anything is fine.
Summary: Charles laying in the meadow with his feelings. Manly tears and angst abound.
Warnings: None. G for tears?
Everything had piled up.
After finding himself needing to be rescued all the time, or not being able to help, at least not anyway that made a difference. Instead usually hurting those he tried to help... Charles was tired. He was tired and worn and he couldn't keep up the visage of being okay anymore.
Having woken up in the tower after the nightmare of all those monsters. People fighting and him not being able to do anything, just be a liability, people probably died, and everyone so close together in such pain, and the anger and the fright and everything had gotten to him, beaten down on his mind and he'd been able to do nothing but curl fingers tight in his hair and hold his head. If he'd died during it, Charles couldn't remember, didn't want to remember. But after waking up from that and feeling numb, not wanting to move or do much of anything, he figured that it would be worse for him not to get up, he'd done enough of not getting up before he'd been brought to the tower as it was.
So he'd checked to see who was in the tower, a light scan with his mind, Erik was here, Molly, others who's minds he'd touched briefly before, new minds. Minds he couldn't quite touch, but that was fine. He just wanted a basic idea as it was. Happy that he still knew people here, yet not, he decided to take a look around, see if anything had changed, if things were 'normal'. And in doing so found one of the new floors.
It was beautiful really, flowers that never seemed to end, a lovely meadow. Wheeling through it in his wheelchair he'll come to a stop eventually, peering around and inhale deeply. Eyes closing he'll let his breath out, just needing a moment, before he'll work himself out of his chair and awkwardly manage to get himself laying on his back, next to said chair, looking up from the flood of flowers around him. It's there, alone, with only his thoughts and the sea of flowers that he'll feel tears stain his cheeks, sliding down slowly. Fingers touch gingerly at the wetness and Charles will scoff at himself, before letting his hand fall beside him.
No matter how hard he tried to not let everything get to him, to be strong and help people and just do what he thought was right.
He just felt so useless.
Look at how late I am does it dazzle you
He stopped at the flowery field, only because he noticed the wheelchair of that roommate he hadn't seen in awhile. The guy probably avoided him for the most part, which he was fine with. Regardless, he walked over to Charles and leaned his arm on the back of the chair, looking at the mutant. Charles certainly seemed different than the guy he was when they first met though. And it's not like Ankh had anything better to do.
"What's your problem?"