this is the last night in my body--
Who: Charles Xavier and YOU
When: today! backdating is totally okay.
Where: the cafeteria but feel free to move him.
Summary: Charles wakes up with a blearing headache and wanders through his "dream". someone shake him awake?
Rating: ummm I'll say PG-13 for now? just in case of cursing...
Warnings: none unless you don't like cursing, I'm sure there'll be some.
Note: I'll start with action but if you prefer prose I'll follow you.
[he'd woken up in a stark right room, bleary, his head pounding, blurry and numb. there was an obvious emptiness to him, now, and he wasn't sure where the void had come from, or how to fill it. everything seemed so out of place, like he was floating, somewhere, in a dream, and since that was easier to believe, he chose to stick to it; the aching in his head flooded through his body as he stood, blinking at the white surrounding him, his eyes half-open.
he wanders out and about, not really seeing anything, turning and twisting automatically, and finds himself in some weird cafeteria-type room, full of benches and tables..
mumbling something that may or may not be actual English to himself, he sits at the closest table, laying his head on it. all the metal is cold against his pajamas, but lovely against his head. he looks like hell, almost as if he's been drinking for hours upon hours, with dark circles under his eyes and a pale sheen to his face; he's barely half-conscious, for the pain in his head, and I'm sure will be a joy to talk to. go bother him!]
When: today! backdating is totally okay.
Where: the cafeteria but feel free to move him.
Summary: Charles wakes up with a blearing headache and wanders through his "dream". someone shake him awake?
Rating: ummm I'll say PG-13 for now? just in case of cursing...
Warnings: none unless you don't like cursing, I'm sure there'll be some.
Note: I'll start with action but if you prefer prose I'll follow you.
[he'd woken up in a stark right room, bleary, his head pounding, blurry and numb. there was an obvious emptiness to him, now, and he wasn't sure where the void had come from, or how to fill it. everything seemed so out of place, like he was floating, somewhere, in a dream, and since that was easier to believe, he chose to stick to it; the aching in his head flooded through his body as he stood, blinking at the white surrounding him, his eyes half-open.
he wanders out and about, not really seeing anything, turning and twisting automatically, and finds himself in some weird cafeteria-type room, full of benches and tables..
mumbling something that may or may not be actual English to himself, he sits at the closest table, laying his head on it. all the metal is cold against his pajamas, but lovely against his head. he looks like hell, almost as if he's been drinking for hours upon hours, with dark circles under his eyes and a pale sheen to his face; he's barely half-conscious, for the pain in his head, and I'm sure will be a joy to talk to. go bother him!]