Community Center Class: Psionics for the Headblind Herd [Monday Evening]
"I mentioned before you can't keep a trained and determined telepath - or magic - out of your brain, you can make them work at it," Emma said, once everyone had arrived. "So today you're going to learn how to shore-up your own automatic mental shields, and hopefully a few other tricks
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[Describe your mindscape/safe place/idea, or pair up with a partner to find one that works for you. ]
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His maze and his safe spot had been the same thing for a long time: an endless spiral of pointless detail, some imagined, some real, confusing both for their multitude and the fact they hardly seemed important.
(But then one of his greatest feats was convincing people he noticed little when he noticed almost everything.)
These days, though, there was something else at the heart of it: the pazaak game that served as his mind's centerpiece was not one he played alone, old eyes peering at him across the board, framed by brown hair. Because you'll be right here with me, playing pazaak, where they can't reach you, he'd said to her. Funny how that worked both ways.
He was quiet, though, as he ignored the little twinge in his gut.
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So it was a little rusty in his head, needed some upkeep. Sweeping out of the dead leaves, shoring up the stone stairs that led up to the cave itself.
"Is it true the cave was used as a hideout by thieves?" the Parker in his head asked. She and Hardison had shown up the last time he'd retreated here, when he went undercover into that corrupt college experiment.
"That's the legend. Jesse James and Belle Star, to name a few." Parker squealed excitedly and bounded up the rock face like a ( ... )
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But it was very easy to envision the halls of the Weapon X facility, all things considered. It had been burned into his head years ago, and was more fresh in his mind's eye now than it had been in a long while.
He knew how to survive within the Program. This felt all the more safe in his head because of how horrifyingly dangerous it was.
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<< THAT is an excellent maze or defense, and while it is part of you that is NOT your core of self and you know it.>>
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But he didn't argue.
In his mind's eye, the corridors of the facility twisted, opened up, and laid themselves flat. The ceiling lightened, and then faded, and the sun shone down around him. The floor gave way to grass. There was a bench nearby, on a path that wended its way through the park. On the bench, a bag of bread crumbs. For the ducks.
//Better?//
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A deft, butterfly-light touch over his mind, and his guitar case was there. <
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//Mostly accurate.//
A little black kitten peered out from behind the guitar case, and started stalking a cricket through the grass.
//I'm not inviting the flamingos, though.//
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For the record, Emma Frost was a bitch, and she enjoyed it.
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Joni caught her cricket, pranced around with it for a moment, and then gingerly set it back in the grass so that she could chase it again.
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<> Given what had happened to her there, Emma knew Jono would understand that admission was important. <<...and when they falter, it's the cells of Snow Valley waiting for them in the oubliettes.>>
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//Facility as an outer wall, not the inner core. Got it,// he replied, setting himself down on that bench in his head and making a reach for his guitar case. //I imagine it'd be a bit of a mind-flip to make it past Weapon-bloody-X just to find yourself in the middle of the park, watching a kitten play in the grass, anyhow.//
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