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 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.

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."

[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.

[mad_asahatter]

Ophelia giggled, rocking on her seat and dropping her sandwich. She'd guessed right, Jean was one of Stryker's powers, one that Stryker would have a hard time controlling.

"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.

[and_intothefire]

She smiled, honestly amused by Ophelia's response to her emotions. It was true that Jean was pretty hollow outside of the boxed away and buried parts of her psyche, but she had her moments.

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.