Mess Hall Fuckery! [OTA]
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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It was like being turned upside down without moving, and Jean's hands splayed on the table. The girls thoughts were fractured, her mind a labyrinth. While every mind was a maze, most were the same maze with slight variations in turns. She knew what areas contained what knowledge, and she was learning all the time how she could control each part.
This girl was like being dropped into the middle of the maze, with the walls shifting constantly, no light, no map, no compass, and no guiding landmarks. Sure, it was a maze, but good luck trying to stay standing where you are. Jean's stomach flipped a little, and she backed the hell out of there.
There was still something, though. While what the girl was saying could be taken as the babbling of an unstable mind, Jean felt there was something else there. Something behind it.
"What's your name?"
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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"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?"
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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.
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Of course, she was the weasel, playful and cheeky and quite misunderstood. Looking for fun, games to play, people to play with. And monkey, monkey had played.
"Monkey cares, but found something new. Had to leave, he flew and grew. Didn't mean it, but got stuck behind. And that's when weasel lost her mind." Her Monkey, her Bric-a-Brac, her Rictor. Ophelia gave a sad smile while she thought on that one.
He really hadn't mean to leave, and didn't realise he'd done. Pulling up his sock meant breaking the poor weasel. She lost that bond, and in such, lost part of herself that couldn't be replaced.
"Monkey found something else, monkey found a bigger chase. Time you see, worked up and in a daze. Fight and hug and count on each other. Monkey went and found a new lover." Not that Ophelia held any ill feeling towards either. She couldn't. Too over come by the love and affection and that determination to not lose out this time, to hold on and never let go.
"How does that suit? Now do you know? Like forbidden fruit, it's hard to say no."
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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.
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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."
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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.
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"Oh, such a pretty, such a dear. Not Gods grace, but that's very clear. Perhaps a grace, but unto your own. Play a game, atop your throne." Crazy, maybe, but Ophelia wasn't stupid. The feelings; the smug satisfaction, the lingering power, the giddiness of overthrowing another power.
Ophelia could tell. Stryker had his work cut out for him with this one.
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She almost liked the girl. And the word throne? Well, if that didn't appeal to her ego, nothing would.
"You're a very smart girl, Ophelia." Her voice was encouraging and ominous at the same time. It was more commentary on what Jean had picked up from her in their short, odd conversation than a reassurance to Ophelia herself. Unexpectedly, Jean felt she might have found a sort of alliance with a girl who's mind she didn't dare tap into beyond the functioning thoughts she forced together.
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