Mess Hall Fuckery! [OTA]

[and_intothefire]

Jean was currently positioned in the middle of the mess hall. Her mind was wide open, her eyes closed softly, and she was listening. The din of psychic voices around her was soothing, feeding her a nearly giddy energy. She wasn't honing in on any one thought, just loving that she had the ability to sit there, free to dip into any open mind that

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[mad_asahatter]

Ophelia was at the far end of one table, a spread of odd foods in front of her. She'd already spread peanut butter over a slice of bread and strawberry jam over another. Gherkins were added to the jam slice, and broken pieces of biscuits to the peanut butter slice. All around the Mulberry Bush, the monkey chased the weasel. She hummed along while singing to herself, carefully placing chocolate buttons on her peanut butter and biscuit bread.

The monkey stopped to pull up his sock, POP! goes the weasel. She giggled aloud, a smiling face sitting in her peanut butter. She licked the sticky mess from her fingers before slicing a banana carefully and covering the jam and gherkin with it.

All around the Mulberry Bush, the warthog chased the weasel. The warthog pulled out his elephant gun. POP! goes the Weasel. Ophelia wasn't rightly aware that anyone would be listening in on her thinkings. Emma had done it once, and once only. Ophelia found that while the telepath was clever and pretty and felt so very much, she wasn't too keen on the

[and_intothefire]

A song floated into Jean's head, a familiar song. Jean cocked her head toward the direction the song seemed to be coming from, her eyes narrowing on the bottle-job redhead at the end of the table.

She watched her movements, feeling her stomach turn a little at whatever the girl was putting together as a sandwich. Jean knew mental instability when she felt it. It was like someone had taken the girls thoughts, laid them out on a table, then chopped them up and pushed them back into her head.

Jean slid down the table until she was seated across from the girl. "I thought the monkey chased the weasel," she said quietly, "not the warthog."

[mad_asahatter]

Studying the woman carefully, Ophelia thought little of her knowing what had been sung inside her head. "Indeed he did, but that got old. The monkey grew up and had to be sold. Warthog was young, and full of fire. Poor weasel met an end so dire."

People knew things, that she understood. This woman knew it, and she had an aura of complexity about her. It was hard to get a good feel on the emotions; pride and power ran hand in hand, a darkness that felt cold and hollow.

"Strange it seems, but sense it makes. The monkey won't chase less you raise the stakes." And Ophelia took a bite of her sandwich happily, smiling closed mouthed at the woman.

[and_intothefire]

Jean smiled lightly, pleased with the girl's reaction. The rhyming, however, was a little strange. Jean nodded, leaning forward into the table a little bit. There was definitely intelligence there, an undercurrent running behind the breaks in her thought processes. Jean had encountered strait-up insane before, insanity with no intelligence behind it. That was not the case here.

Then again, there was the rhyming. "So what does the monkey need to chase?" Jean lifted a brow, a smile coming across her lips. She wasn't going to go delving into the girls head outside of the general feel she'd gotten for it already. Yet. But a little bit of questioning never hurt anyone.

[mad_asahatter]

She considered it, chewing her way through the mixed flavours, not really tasting anything. "Time, more recently, he's trying to tame it. Harder to follow, and match to wit. Monkey plays, while Weasel dies. Once they realise, you'll hear their cries."

The rhymes were natural, everything rhymed. Reason and illogic, no matter what Ophelia thought or said, it came out in rhymes. Even her shopping list would be as such. For most it was a battle to work through the madness and find the meaning, because most of the time, Ophelia's meaning was hidden in her rhymes.

If Jean could decipher who the monkey was, who time was and who the weasel was, then that was good pickings for her. "They come and go, but can't keep up. Monkey knows it's just for the pup. Weasel will make it, as far as she can. Time will realise its for the master plan."

[and_intothefire]

Jean clasped her hands together and leaned into the table a little, watching the girl, listening to what she was saying. Her head tilted slightly, and she decided to brave the insanity inside the girl's head

[mad_asahatter]

Ophelia felt the curiosity. The woman didn't hide it well, she didn't try. But then, everyone had a little curiosity. The blue furry one was over flowing with that, curiosity and doubt. But this one, the curiosity wasn't with doubt, but intrigue and still that prideful power.

"Ophelia they call her, like in the play. Dear mother did love her, but couldn't quite stay. Couldn't you find it, or didn't you try? It's alright you see, no need to lie."

With a mind so fractured, it was easy to feel a sense of something being complete and whole when it was there. And as briefly as it was, she was starting to believe that this was another of Stryker's attempts to control pure power.

[and_intothefire]

"Ophelia," Jean repeated, narrowing her eyes. She didn't miss that, even if it was rhyming. The girl knew she'd been in her head. And she hadn't cared that Jean was in her head. Huh.

Jean was definitely interested now. The girl knew things, because she could observe. Even if her mind didn't process the information like a sane person's might, it still processed. How many people around this place brushed her off as the crazy girl who spoke in rhymes and didn't make any sense; paid her no mind as they talked openly when they wouldn't otherwise?

She didn't know the girl's story, and it was doubtful she was going to get it out of her today. She had to learn her language first.

"You felt me, didn't you?" She leaned into the table, smiling at Ophelia.

[mad_asahatter]

Of course, the consideration that she was more than just the craziest of the crazies -potentially depending on Martini's moods, Ophelia smiled brightly. She liked her camouflage, only Stryker fully knew the extent of her powers, just how dangerous she was.

She hadn't experimented with the others in the camp, save for a few brushes of aggression here and there. But she was still the smart, well read and taught girl she'd been. Just less together.

"Foreign to feel, together and real. Someone else inside, but not trying to hide. Can't help but look, like someone's locked book." Running a finger along the end of her sandwich, coming away with jam and peanut butter, Ophelia paused to consider. "Want to know what's inside, you'll need to invest in a guide. Lots of holes, twists and turns, it's dangerous and sometimes burns. Don't get lost, the walls will shift, ask real nice, she'll make it a gift."

OOC: SO. MUCH. LOVE. AND. WIN.

[and_intothefire]

Jean listened closely, taking the time to decipher what Ophelia was telling her. The lyrical way she spoke was actually almost endearing her to Jean.

Almost.

Her voice lowered as she spoke again, wanting to make sure she wasn't drawing undue attention to herself. "Ophelia, is there anything you want me to know? I'd love to find out what that is, if you're willing to help me." Jean smiled. "Please."

And for once, that word was honest.

OOC: hehe; thank you muchly

[mad_asahatter]

Regardless of why, Ophelia wasn't too concerned with people in her mind. She'd feel something change if they got too deep or if they altered her, and retaliation was easy if they were already in.

"You pop inside, but don't go deep. Too much quicksand, it starts to seep. Find a orchestra and follow the sound. Find something there that can't be found." Ophelia was good with feelings, she could project them, take them, blanket someone with nothing but what she wanted. Thoughts were different, they took time to form, to concentrate on and make coherent.

"What do you think, she's wondering to know. What exactly is it, she's supposed to show?"

[and_intothefire]

Jean stared at Ophelia, pondering her question. The song from before, it felt to Jean like there was more behind it than just the words she was saying. "The nursery rhyme you were singing before; would you be able to show me who you were talking about?"

Even if it wasn't anything overly revealing about what was going on inside the compound, it would give her an insight into what Ophelia meant when she was prattling in the future. She wasn't sure what the girl could do as a mutant, but she damned well knew that Stryker had reasons for every single person that was on the team.

She was taking an honest interest in someone, even if it was for her own selfish reasons.

[mad_asahatter]

Ophelia frowned a little. To her, it was terribly obvious who she was meaning, but then, lots of things were obvious to her. "Weasel is as weasel does, frits and fritters, plays and loves." While speaking, she tried to concentrate on the meaning

[and_intothefire]

Jean opened her mind carefully to Ophelia, listening closely. As she spoke of the weasel, Jean picked up the mental picture Ophelia had of herself. Her ears listened to the words, and her mind worked to pick out what she was focusing on. The next, monkey, was a man. Someone she knew, someone Jean had seen around the compound. Rictor.

Apparently they'd been lovers.

Jean felt something tugging at her heart, and she looked back at Ophelia. Her mood had shifted while sitting here with this girl, and now she was feeling something that probably resembled affection, had she known what affection really was? Interesting.

"Thank you, Ophelia. I understand." She looked at the empath, studying. "I appreciate you sharing that with me." Jean shook off whatever she'd been feeling. "I'd like it if you came to me when you wanted to talk." She'd figure out the girl's language, given time.

[mad_asahatter]

"Fair is fair, with share and share. You take, she gives, and back if you dare. Just a touch, you think, she'll have a taste to drink. Think on something, decide what you feel, Ophelia only takes what is real."

Of course, for the small insight into her mind, Ophelia would be open to taking a little from her strange little encounter. "A name, dear one, and then some fun."

[and_intothefire]

Jean picked up that Ophelia referred to herself in the third person, and knew she was asking. She wanted Jean to feel something, something Ophelia would experience as well. The girl was an empath.

She focused hard, remembering her last day at Xavier's. The look of angry disappointment on his face, and a smug sense of satisfaction coursing through Jean as she walked away from him. He'd banished her. Well, she was going to banish him right back. She'd tapped into every reserve of telekinetic energy she had, exploding it radially from her body. She kept a small bit back to form a shield around herself, pushing back the debris that came flying toward her as the walls of the lower levels exploded around her. The giddy feeling of listening to Xavier shouting echoed through her mind.

"I'm Jean," she said quietly to Ophelia as she let the feelings of that memory well to the surface.