9/13/07 - Magnes
From: Prof. Charles Xavier
To: Dr. Hank McCoy, Dr. Jean Grey
Date: Thursday, Sept 13, 2007 4:14 PM
Subject: Varlane
One of your patients came to visit and dropped in announced, Jean. I have summarized our discussion below. I leave the next step to you or Hank.
I might suggest a quiet IQ test as well. The young man appears to have very little comprehension of "action" and "consequence," but then, young people these days so rarely do....
---
=XS= Xavier's Office - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
This is a quiet, gracious room, wood panels and polished wooden floor giving warmth to a great and high-ceilinged study. A large fireplace claims the inner wall, a mantel lipped wide under a 16th century painting of Leonidas at Thermopylae. Colors are rich, glowing with life and vigor; the room itself is adorned likewise, thick rugs laid underfoot to draw together the hues of curtains and prints. A large desk dominates the far end of the room, framed behind by high windows that look out across the lawn. Closer to the door, bookshelves curl around the corner, framing a small nook for heavy, butter-soft leather chairs and sofas circled around a small tea table and chessboard.
The afternoon is well on its way, and classes -- interrupted only for death and disaster, more frequent than one might hope -- are winding down in Xavier School. The hallways echo with the voices of lessons, pitched out of half-open doors and into the wood-paneled corridors. For Professor Xavier, respite: he sits couched in his office, attention bent frowning on documents more notable for their length than for their picturesque quality. Red ink scrawls neat commentary in the wide margins, and scratches lines through words. No rest for the weary. Or the wise.
Being lead to the office by one of the students who recognized him visiting Jean before, Magnes has nervously made his way to the office door. Lightly knocking, he slowly opens a door. "Hello, Mister Professor Xavier?" The uneasiness in his voice, and the spurting out and mixing of titles make it all the more obvious. "I'm not usually one to bother anyone unexpectedly, but Ms. Grey was a bit tied up, and I thought you could help me out with a few things that happened recently..."
Deep-set eyes glance up; distracted though they are, frowning though they are, there is enough attention piecemealed elsewhere for courteous welcome to slide like a ghost behind them. "Ah. Yes?" the Professor murmurs, putting down his pen. "Did you have an appointment? I'm afraid my calendar has gone missing. Please." One hand gestures to the guest chairs arrayed in front of the desk, the long fingers cramped and curled. "Take a seat. Mister--?"
Magnes enters, slowly sitting down, his eyes wandering a moment before the Professor's question grabs his attention. "Oh, my name is Magnes J. Varlane, and I apologize I don't have an appointment. I'd been meeting Jean about some problems I've been happening, but something happened the other day that I really need help with, anyone who can really help me." His eyes raising to the Professor's, a look mixed with worry and relief all at once.
"Ah," says the Professor, and a faint smile touches his mouth. The unornamented hands drop to the desktop, the one atop the other in folded wings. "Mr. Magnes J. Varlane. I seem to recall that we encountered each other briefly the other day, now that I think about the matter. My apologies for not recognizing you. --And what can I help you with?" he adds, not unkindly. "I'm afraid I do not have Dr. Grey's clinical training, if your problem is ... er, medical."
"It's alright, I know you're a busy guy and likely meet tons of people every day." Magnes inhales and exhales, as if he's mustering up the right words. "Well, ironically even though Ms. Grey suspected I might be a mutant, the reason I'm sure I am is pretty much unrelated." Instinctively folding his hands in his lap in the school setting before continuing. "See, the other day in the park, night actually, a situation with Magneto and a woman with similar powers sort of got out of hand, and I got some guy hurled at me, but..." Briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head, as if remembering. "It was like time slowed down, everything including me, then time sped up again and the guy slammed into me. Since then it's like I've been aware that this has always been happening, like I've been using the power subconciously. The slowing of time seems to vary from a few seconds to even longer, I've been experimenting but, I'm afraid of it, I don't fully understand what's going on."
Professor Xavier's face, tuned to courteous interest, changes in the mention of Magneto's name. The quality of his attention shifts from pure politeness to a sharper thing, like the point of a dagger. The strong brows lower; the pale eyes narrow. "Magneto," he repeats slowly, shaping the vowels with care on his tongue. "I see. A woman with similar powers? --I take it you reported this to the police?"
"Well, I was going to but this guy named Madrox, someone else who was there and could make a bunch of copies of himself, told me not to tell anyone else." Magnes crosses his arms, just nodding. "But yes, the woman with similar powers was trying to protect us, I think her name was Lori or something. Is it bad that I didn't report this? I mean I really was going to, but I figured that Madrox guy knows how to handle these situations better than I do, I mean I just ended up unconcious."
"Ah," says the Professor again. His hand lifts to touch fingertips to brow, the shadow of his palm veiling his expression. Nowhere in that trained and beautiful voice is a hint of exasperation. Because of course he feels none. /Madrox/. Why on earth would he? "I see. You ended up unconscious. Magneto's doing, was it? Or -- perhaps it would be best if you told me what happened."
Magnes nods in agreement, habitually rubbing the back of his neck out of uneasiness. "Well, the guy who flew into me was that Madrox guy, he was wearing some kind of metal thing I believe. Magneto hurled him into me when I was trying to protect the girl, she had finally gotten over powered." His tone gradually becoming less nervous, getting more comfortable as the story goes on. "When Madrox slammed into me, I went flying into the grass quite hard. I remember crawling behind Magneto, I could see his boots, but then I finally just fell unconcious. Though right before I finally did lose conciousness, I remember seeing a -lot- of Madroxes being hurled around in the air, they were multiplying like crazy."
The Professor's hand folds like a prayer across the other. He regards Magnes without expression. Where, oh where to start? After a moment's silence he says, "You attempted to protect a girl against Magneto?"
"Well yes of course, what else would I do in that situation? Sure it was likely a bit stupid, but I couldn't just let her get killed." Magnes' expression turning quite serious, his voice low and sympathetic. "I had to do -something-, you know? He's Magneto, yes, but how could I have lived with myself if I just ran away and left her there?"
"I might suggest," Xavier says dryly, "that if one deliberately opposes Magneto without training or arms of some sort, one would not, in fact, live at all." Eyebrows quiz upward. In silence and in curiosity, telepathy whispers across the space between them, skimming like an unfelt breeze across the surface of the young man's mind. "In the future I might suggest prudence be the better part of valor."
Magnes sighs, though he nods in agreement. "I understand, admittedly I've never thrown a punch, but a situation like that being virtually my first real fight, a guy just goes on instinct." Laying his head back in his seat, relaxing as if a large weight lifted from his chest. "But, unless you have more questions to ask me, I've been wanting to know if my powers are dangerous. Is there a way for you to know if there's a risk that I might end up in slo-mo forever or something?"
Eyebrows lower, framing the upper edge of a faint frown. Xavier's face grows abstracted; fingertips drum across the heavily edited documents. "That, I'm afraid, I cannot say from pure anecdote. I trust that you have experimented in private rather than in the company of others? Perhaps if you could describe them more-- you said that time slowed down, was it? Can you clarify?"
"Well, I've experimented by myself usually, all but once. I asked Madrox to throw a dirt clot at me so I could see if time slowed for people other than myself. I learned it's a personal experience." Magnes taps his chin, pouting his lip up in thought. "Well, I think the best way to explain it is like, you've seen one of those action movies, right? It's like when a camera slows down, all of reality including myself ends up in slow motion." He blushes for a second. "Alright well maybe Madrox isn't the only one I've experimented in front of, but he's the only one who actually knew what I was doing. See, most of my experiments are juggling a -lot- of things, or throwing lots of objects in the air all at once and seeing how many I can grab. The juggling I do in front of people sometimes, they like it." He seems a bit embarassed by it, but it's obvious he's trying his best to be honest. "So far I've learned that I'm pretty limited to my normal human speed, and physics can be confusing when I'm like that. When Madrox threw the dirt clot and I caught it in slo-mo, the dirt basically exploded in my face when time became normal again."
The Professor's eyelids droop, and under them, hazel eyes sliver to brilliant splinters of attention. "I see," he murmurs. "I'm afraid that from your anecdotal information I am unable to tell you to what extent your abilities might reach. You say that you are limited to your normal human speed. Do you refer to your apparent normal speed given the rate of time passing? Or the perception of outsiders? Did Madrox see you moving faster than usual?"
Magnes shakes his head at the question about Madrox. "He saw me moving as normal, when I say my normal human speed, I mean when everything slows down I see -myself- slow down too. I'm still going at human speed, but I see myself going slower, making things very hard to get used to because if I try to move too hard I may accidentally throw myself on the ground or something, because of the sudden speed up of time when things become normal again."
"Ah." Enlightenment, or something like. Again the fingertips drum, rattling a patient rhythm against the tabletop. "I see. In other words, the effect is like -- adrenaline, when one's mind moves more quickly and one's reactions are accelerated. Would that be an accurate comparison? And you say that you have been able to experiment with it? That is to say, activate it at will?"
"Hm, yes I suppose it is pretty comparable to that." Then Magnes simply nods, digging into his own pocket and taking out a pencil. "I'll demonstrate, then I'll explain." Throwing the pencil into the air, and to Xavier it'll look like Magnes is skillfully tapping the point of the pencil, throwing it back up with his finger tip, then hidding the eraser. He does this a few times quite quickly, before finally catching it in his hand. "It's not that -I- can activated it, it's when I need to react. For example, I can't simply switch it on while we're talking, I'm not really doing anything, but if some coffee were about to fall in my lap and I noticed it, I would see it suddenly slow down." Holding his pencil out to Xavier. "This makes sense, right? And here you can check the pencil if you like."
"That will not be necessary, thank you." The Professor regards the pencil with a thoughtful eye before refocusing his attention on Magnes, his lips pursing. "And you say this only impacts you? Have you tested the impact of your -- for lack of a better word, /range/ -- with other organics in the immediate vicinity?"
Magnes shakes his head. "I haven't, not really sure how. Though the thing I talk to Jean about appears to have some kind of range, I've actually been testing that for about a week or so." He suddenly mentions as if he had forgotten. "I'm not sure if it's relevant or not, but I can kinda feel stuff I'm not actually touching, I talk to Jean about it sometimes, but that's about all I know so far, it doesn't -feel- like a power or anything, but I figure that might be relevant to the time slowing, or some kind of side effect." Scratching his head again, like some kind of nervous tick. "But uh, back on track, I haven't really tested it beyond the juggling, the dirt clot, and this one time I was watching ice in a cup. Oh and I've never touched anyone while this was happening."
Says Xavier, mellowly, "Until you can test it in a controlled environment with safety -- which is to say, not a live, human subject -- I would advise against it. Well." Fingers knit together into a loose cradle, and the Professor considers Magnes over their basket. "It is certainly an interesting permutation, and not one that I have seen exhibited in just that way. I cannot say with any surety whether it is purely mental or a factor of adrenaline production. No doubt Jean could, with appropriate testing. You said you came seeking assistance. May I ask what assistance you wish?"
Magnes smiles, nodding and appearing to perk up, sitting up with a bit of a hunch. "I want to know exactly what this is, what's happening to me. I want to know how to control it so I don't end up a danger to myself and others. And being completely and perfectly honest with you, I'm very afraid of getting stuck in slo-mo, out of all the fears I have about these abilities, that's the largest one. Any help you can give I will accept, if I have to like work here as a janitor or something to pay for it, I will do it. Oh, and could I ask your personal advice on something? Like your absolute personal opinion?" Sighing again, one could tell he was preparing to say something else that's been weighing on his shoulders. "I talked to one other person about this, they're the only other person who knows. I'm not absolutely sure, but I suspect my ability may have had something to do with winning my scholarship in a competition, is it really alright to keep it? I mean I don't want to be a cheat or anything, and I wasn't -trying- to cheat, but I'm just not sure about the situation."
Pale eyes blink. Many words. The Professor spiders fingertips gently across the curve of his brow, tracing the shape of the skull beneath the skin. "Ah," he says, picking through the reply. "One at a time, then. Dr. McCoy and Dr. Grey can run tests to determine /what/ your mutation is, which is the first step. Insofar as training is concerned, however, we are rather overextended at the moment. Our resources are stretched thin -- especially of late. However, we can offer you advice, and perhaps some suggestions. As for the scholarship--" He trails off and looks mildly perplexed. "An interesting quandary. You say you never noticed this phenomenon before?"
"It's like when you're watching a movie and there's all these little clues you never notice, then the big reveal happens and you're like 'It all makes sense now!', I've always been good at rollerblading, like very good. After puberty I almost never fell after complicated tricks. It was always like a time is slowing down feeling for split seconds as I performed tricks, but nothing serious." Magnes moves his hands a lot each time he makes a metaphor, by now it should be obvious he has a lot of habits. "So after the Magneto incident and I really started experimenting, I thought that maybe this has been happening without me noticing. When time only slows for less than a second or so, I honestly don't really notice. And since I've never really been in a fight or anything, nothing huge and noticable ever really happened to call my attention to the fact that something strange might be going on." Moving his finger from side to side in front of his face. "Like now, I'll see my finger freeze for a moment, then just keep going, it's not really noticable. But yeah, I would be very grateful for all of that, and any suggestions you can give me. And seriously, you guys have helped me a lot, if you need help around the school I'm more than willing, I know you guys are very busy and I'm asking for free help, so if you even need someone to serve lunch, just ask."
Again, Xavier blinks. "Ah," he says. (He says it a lot.) A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, crinkling the skin around his eyes: the diplomat's mask, well-worn and impervious to scrutiny. "The thought is appreciated, thank you. We have -- rather an overabundance of willing hands to volunteer, I'm afraid. The school does not require payment; we will provide what help we can. The medical tests can be covered under grant funding. As for your scholarship -- my advice is not legal, which may be an issue. I am unfamiliar with your scholarship's rules. However, that said, I do not believe disclosure of the past is as important as what you choose to do for future scholarships."
Magnes nods to the professor yet again, listening with a calm expression. "Of course, your personal opinion is enough for me. And I'm glad helping me won't inconvenience the school financially. Though if you don't mind, could we please keep this a secret? Only a few people know about this, and I don't really mind if the people in the school know. I also plan to tell my friend Jubilee, I believe she used to go here." Smiling fondly when he mentioned Jubilee. "But for now, at least while I'm dealing with it, I don't want to be a public mutant. Once I'm used to it and feel I'm ready, then I eventually will, I hope this isn't offensive or anything."
"Jubilee," Xavier says, and though one more familiar with him might detect the slightly helpless quality to his expression, the disciplined face of the born politician maintains its politely smiling facade. "Of course. She is one of our graduates, as you say. And you have no need to apologize, Mr. Varlane. The decision to make one's genetic status known is one that is uniquely one's own. You may rest assured of our confidentiality."
"Thank you. And I likely shouldn't hold you up too long, so is there anything else you would like to know before I leave? Ms. Grey has my contact information too." Magnes' hands cupped together as he attempts to keep his attention focused on the professor, seeming to become a bit distracted by how well decorated the room is inbetween pauses. "Oh and is there a certain time I should come back here or anything? LIke some kind of appointment or schedule?"
The Professor tips his head to one side, the afternoon light streaming in through the windows to paint the bald scalp with white. "I believe the next step is with Dr. Grey or Dr. McCoy," he says firmly, lifting a hand in demurral. "Medical tests precede any experimentation. I will leave it to them to contact you at their convenience. They will advise me when they feel that they have a more comprehensive understanding of the physiological causes. Without that, it is difficult to determine your limits and risks to your health."
Magnes nods finally, standing and stretching with a yawn, covering his mouth. "Sorry, I studied a lot today." A tired smile after his yawn. "Alright, I can pretty much be contacted whenever, the number I left is my cell. I'll try and avoid my power activating as best I can, until it's been tested." Leaning down and holding his hand out to shake. "It was nice speaking with you, Professor, I feel much better about everything now, thank you again."
The hand that clasps Magnes's is a scribe's hand, a pianist's hand, long-fingered and fine-boned and graceful. The skin is cool and dry, thin with age; the strength in the fingers is vigorous and alive. "I'm glad to be of assistance," the Professor says gravely, and the hazel eyes twinkle just a bit. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Mr. Varlane. I believe--" The door opens, and a small, rumpled little head pops in. "--Mr. Donovan will show you out. Eric, if you would? Have a good day."
Magnes nods one last time, a habit with authority, then with the release of his hand, he casually waves. "I look forward to our next meeting!" He exclaims, exiting with Mr. Donovan.
And in the office behind him, Professor Xavier puffs a small exhalation into the back of his hand and returns to his work. Red ink scribbles. The afternoon wears on.
[Log ends]
To: Dr. Hank McCoy, Dr. Jean Grey
Date: Thursday, Sept 13, 2007 4:14 PM
Subject: Varlane
One of your patients came to visit and dropped in announced, Jean. I have summarized our discussion below. I leave the next step to you or Hank.
I might suggest a quiet IQ test as well. The young man appears to have very little comprehension of "action" and "consequence," but then, young people these days so rarely do....
---
=XS= Xavier's Office - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
This is a quiet, gracious room, wood panels and polished wooden floor giving warmth to a great and high-ceilinged study. A large fireplace claims the inner wall, a mantel lipped wide under a 16th century painting of Leonidas at Thermopylae. Colors are rich, glowing with life and vigor; the room itself is adorned likewise, thick rugs laid underfoot to draw together the hues of curtains and prints. A large desk dominates the far end of the room, framed behind by high windows that look out across the lawn. Closer to the door, bookshelves curl around the corner, framing a small nook for heavy, butter-soft leather chairs and sofas circled around a small tea table and chessboard.
The afternoon is well on its way, and classes -- interrupted only for death and disaster, more frequent than one might hope -- are winding down in Xavier School. The hallways echo with the voices of lessons, pitched out of half-open doors and into the wood-paneled corridors. For Professor Xavier, respite: he sits couched in his office, attention bent frowning on documents more notable for their length than for their picturesque quality. Red ink scrawls neat commentary in the wide margins, and scratches lines through words. No rest for the weary. Or the wise.
Being lead to the office by one of the students who recognized him visiting Jean before, Magnes has nervously made his way to the office door. Lightly knocking, he slowly opens a door. "Hello, Mister Professor Xavier?" The uneasiness in his voice, and the spurting out and mixing of titles make it all the more obvious. "I'm not usually one to bother anyone unexpectedly, but Ms. Grey was a bit tied up, and I thought you could help me out with a few things that happened recently..."
Deep-set eyes glance up; distracted though they are, frowning though they are, there is enough attention piecemealed elsewhere for courteous welcome to slide like a ghost behind them. "Ah. Yes?" the Professor murmurs, putting down his pen. "Did you have an appointment? I'm afraid my calendar has gone missing. Please." One hand gestures to the guest chairs arrayed in front of the desk, the long fingers cramped and curled. "Take a seat. Mister--?"
Magnes enters, slowly sitting down, his eyes wandering a moment before the Professor's question grabs his attention. "Oh, my name is Magnes J. Varlane, and I apologize I don't have an appointment. I'd been meeting Jean about some problems I've been happening, but something happened the other day that I really need help with, anyone who can really help me." His eyes raising to the Professor's, a look mixed with worry and relief all at once.
"Ah," says the Professor, and a faint smile touches his mouth. The unornamented hands drop to the desktop, the one atop the other in folded wings. "Mr. Magnes J. Varlane. I seem to recall that we encountered each other briefly the other day, now that I think about the matter. My apologies for not recognizing you. --And what can I help you with?" he adds, not unkindly. "I'm afraid I do not have Dr. Grey's clinical training, if your problem is ... er, medical."
"It's alright, I know you're a busy guy and likely meet tons of people every day." Magnes inhales and exhales, as if he's mustering up the right words. "Well, ironically even though Ms. Grey suspected I might be a mutant, the reason I'm sure I am is pretty much unrelated." Instinctively folding his hands in his lap in the school setting before continuing. "See, the other day in the park, night actually, a situation with Magneto and a woman with similar powers sort of got out of hand, and I got some guy hurled at me, but..." Briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head, as if remembering. "It was like time slowed down, everything including me, then time sped up again and the guy slammed into me. Since then it's like I've been aware that this has always been happening, like I've been using the power subconciously. The slowing of time seems to vary from a few seconds to even longer, I've been experimenting but, I'm afraid of it, I don't fully understand what's going on."
Professor Xavier's face, tuned to courteous interest, changes in the mention of Magneto's name. The quality of his attention shifts from pure politeness to a sharper thing, like the point of a dagger. The strong brows lower; the pale eyes narrow. "Magneto," he repeats slowly, shaping the vowels with care on his tongue. "I see. A woman with similar powers? --I take it you reported this to the police?"
"Well, I was going to but this guy named Madrox, someone else who was there and could make a bunch of copies of himself, told me not to tell anyone else." Magnes crosses his arms, just nodding. "But yes, the woman with similar powers was trying to protect us, I think her name was Lori or something. Is it bad that I didn't report this? I mean I really was going to, but I figured that Madrox guy knows how to handle these situations better than I do, I mean I just ended up unconcious."
"Ah," says the Professor again. His hand lifts to touch fingertips to brow, the shadow of his palm veiling his expression. Nowhere in that trained and beautiful voice is a hint of exasperation. Because of course he feels none. /Madrox/. Why on earth would he? "I see. You ended up unconscious. Magneto's doing, was it? Or -- perhaps it would be best if you told me what happened."
Magnes nods in agreement, habitually rubbing the back of his neck out of uneasiness. "Well, the guy who flew into me was that Madrox guy, he was wearing some kind of metal thing I believe. Magneto hurled him into me when I was trying to protect the girl, she had finally gotten over powered." His tone gradually becoming less nervous, getting more comfortable as the story goes on. "When Madrox slammed into me, I went flying into the grass quite hard. I remember crawling behind Magneto, I could see his boots, but then I finally just fell unconcious. Though right before I finally did lose conciousness, I remember seeing a -lot- of Madroxes being hurled around in the air, they were multiplying like crazy."
The Professor's hand folds like a prayer across the other. He regards Magnes without expression. Where, oh where to start? After a moment's silence he says, "You attempted to protect a girl against Magneto?"
"Well yes of course, what else would I do in that situation? Sure it was likely a bit stupid, but I couldn't just let her get killed." Magnes' expression turning quite serious, his voice low and sympathetic. "I had to do -something-, you know? He's Magneto, yes, but how could I have lived with myself if I just ran away and left her there?"
"I might suggest," Xavier says dryly, "that if one deliberately opposes Magneto without training or arms of some sort, one would not, in fact, live at all." Eyebrows quiz upward. In silence and in curiosity, telepathy whispers across the space between them, skimming like an unfelt breeze across the surface of the young man's mind. "In the future I might suggest prudence be the better part of valor."
Magnes sighs, though he nods in agreement. "I understand, admittedly I've never thrown a punch, but a situation like that being virtually my first real fight, a guy just goes on instinct." Laying his head back in his seat, relaxing as if a large weight lifted from his chest. "But, unless you have more questions to ask me, I've been wanting to know if my powers are dangerous. Is there a way for you to know if there's a risk that I might end up in slo-mo forever or something?"
Eyebrows lower, framing the upper edge of a faint frown. Xavier's face grows abstracted; fingertips drum across the heavily edited documents. "That, I'm afraid, I cannot say from pure anecdote. I trust that you have experimented in private rather than in the company of others? Perhaps if you could describe them more-- you said that time slowed down, was it? Can you clarify?"
"Well, I've experimented by myself usually, all but once. I asked Madrox to throw a dirt clot at me so I could see if time slowed for people other than myself. I learned it's a personal experience." Magnes taps his chin, pouting his lip up in thought. "Well, I think the best way to explain it is like, you've seen one of those action movies, right? It's like when a camera slows down, all of reality including myself ends up in slow motion." He blushes for a second. "Alright well maybe Madrox isn't the only one I've experimented in front of, but he's the only one who actually knew what I was doing. See, most of my experiments are juggling a -lot- of things, or throwing lots of objects in the air all at once and seeing how many I can grab. The juggling I do in front of people sometimes, they like it." He seems a bit embarassed by it, but it's obvious he's trying his best to be honest. "So far I've learned that I'm pretty limited to my normal human speed, and physics can be confusing when I'm like that. When Madrox threw the dirt clot and I caught it in slo-mo, the dirt basically exploded in my face when time became normal again."
The Professor's eyelids droop, and under them, hazel eyes sliver to brilliant splinters of attention. "I see," he murmurs. "I'm afraid that from your anecdotal information I am unable to tell you to what extent your abilities might reach. You say that you are limited to your normal human speed. Do you refer to your apparent normal speed given the rate of time passing? Or the perception of outsiders? Did Madrox see you moving faster than usual?"
Magnes shakes his head at the question about Madrox. "He saw me moving as normal, when I say my normal human speed, I mean when everything slows down I see -myself- slow down too. I'm still going at human speed, but I see myself going slower, making things very hard to get used to because if I try to move too hard I may accidentally throw myself on the ground or something, because of the sudden speed up of time when things become normal again."
"Ah." Enlightenment, or something like. Again the fingertips drum, rattling a patient rhythm against the tabletop. "I see. In other words, the effect is like -- adrenaline, when one's mind moves more quickly and one's reactions are accelerated. Would that be an accurate comparison? And you say that you have been able to experiment with it? That is to say, activate it at will?"
"Hm, yes I suppose it is pretty comparable to that." Then Magnes simply nods, digging into his own pocket and taking out a pencil. "I'll demonstrate, then I'll explain." Throwing the pencil into the air, and to Xavier it'll look like Magnes is skillfully tapping the point of the pencil, throwing it back up with his finger tip, then hidding the eraser. He does this a few times quite quickly, before finally catching it in his hand. "It's not that -I- can activated it, it's when I need to react. For example, I can't simply switch it on while we're talking, I'm not really doing anything, but if some coffee were about to fall in my lap and I noticed it, I would see it suddenly slow down." Holding his pencil out to Xavier. "This makes sense, right? And here you can check the pencil if you like."
"That will not be necessary, thank you." The Professor regards the pencil with a thoughtful eye before refocusing his attention on Magnes, his lips pursing. "And you say this only impacts you? Have you tested the impact of your -- for lack of a better word, /range/ -- with other organics in the immediate vicinity?"
Magnes shakes his head. "I haven't, not really sure how. Though the thing I talk to Jean about appears to have some kind of range, I've actually been testing that for about a week or so." He suddenly mentions as if he had forgotten. "I'm not sure if it's relevant or not, but I can kinda feel stuff I'm not actually touching, I talk to Jean about it sometimes, but that's about all I know so far, it doesn't -feel- like a power or anything, but I figure that might be relevant to the time slowing, or some kind of side effect." Scratching his head again, like some kind of nervous tick. "But uh, back on track, I haven't really tested it beyond the juggling, the dirt clot, and this one time I was watching ice in a cup. Oh and I've never touched anyone while this was happening."
Says Xavier, mellowly, "Until you can test it in a controlled environment with safety -- which is to say, not a live, human subject -- I would advise against it. Well." Fingers knit together into a loose cradle, and the Professor considers Magnes over their basket. "It is certainly an interesting permutation, and not one that I have seen exhibited in just that way. I cannot say with any surety whether it is purely mental or a factor of adrenaline production. No doubt Jean could, with appropriate testing. You said you came seeking assistance. May I ask what assistance you wish?"
Magnes smiles, nodding and appearing to perk up, sitting up with a bit of a hunch. "I want to know exactly what this is, what's happening to me. I want to know how to control it so I don't end up a danger to myself and others. And being completely and perfectly honest with you, I'm very afraid of getting stuck in slo-mo, out of all the fears I have about these abilities, that's the largest one. Any help you can give I will accept, if I have to like work here as a janitor or something to pay for it, I will do it. Oh, and could I ask your personal advice on something? Like your absolute personal opinion?" Sighing again, one could tell he was preparing to say something else that's been weighing on his shoulders. "I talked to one other person about this, they're the only other person who knows. I'm not absolutely sure, but I suspect my ability may have had something to do with winning my scholarship in a competition, is it really alright to keep it? I mean I don't want to be a cheat or anything, and I wasn't -trying- to cheat, but I'm just not sure about the situation."
Pale eyes blink. Many words. The Professor spiders fingertips gently across the curve of his brow, tracing the shape of the skull beneath the skin. "Ah," he says, picking through the reply. "One at a time, then. Dr. McCoy and Dr. Grey can run tests to determine /what/ your mutation is, which is the first step. Insofar as training is concerned, however, we are rather overextended at the moment. Our resources are stretched thin -- especially of late. However, we can offer you advice, and perhaps some suggestions. As for the scholarship--" He trails off and looks mildly perplexed. "An interesting quandary. You say you never noticed this phenomenon before?"
"It's like when you're watching a movie and there's all these little clues you never notice, then the big reveal happens and you're like 'It all makes sense now!', I've always been good at rollerblading, like very good. After puberty I almost never fell after complicated tricks. It was always like a time is slowing down feeling for split seconds as I performed tricks, but nothing serious." Magnes moves his hands a lot each time he makes a metaphor, by now it should be obvious he has a lot of habits. "So after the Magneto incident and I really started experimenting, I thought that maybe this has been happening without me noticing. When time only slows for less than a second or so, I honestly don't really notice. And since I've never really been in a fight or anything, nothing huge and noticable ever really happened to call my attention to the fact that something strange might be going on." Moving his finger from side to side in front of his face. "Like now, I'll see my finger freeze for a moment, then just keep going, it's not really noticable. But yeah, I would be very grateful for all of that, and any suggestions you can give me. And seriously, you guys have helped me a lot, if you need help around the school I'm more than willing, I know you guys are very busy and I'm asking for free help, so if you even need someone to serve lunch, just ask."
Again, Xavier blinks. "Ah," he says. (He says it a lot.) A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, crinkling the skin around his eyes: the diplomat's mask, well-worn and impervious to scrutiny. "The thought is appreciated, thank you. We have -- rather an overabundance of willing hands to volunteer, I'm afraid. The school does not require payment; we will provide what help we can. The medical tests can be covered under grant funding. As for your scholarship -- my advice is not legal, which may be an issue. I am unfamiliar with your scholarship's rules. However, that said, I do not believe disclosure of the past is as important as what you choose to do for future scholarships."
Magnes nods to the professor yet again, listening with a calm expression. "Of course, your personal opinion is enough for me. And I'm glad helping me won't inconvenience the school financially. Though if you don't mind, could we please keep this a secret? Only a few people know about this, and I don't really mind if the people in the school know. I also plan to tell my friend Jubilee, I believe she used to go here." Smiling fondly when he mentioned Jubilee. "But for now, at least while I'm dealing with it, I don't want to be a public mutant. Once I'm used to it and feel I'm ready, then I eventually will, I hope this isn't offensive or anything."
"Jubilee," Xavier says, and though one more familiar with him might detect the slightly helpless quality to his expression, the disciplined face of the born politician maintains its politely smiling facade. "Of course. She is one of our graduates, as you say. And you have no need to apologize, Mr. Varlane. The decision to make one's genetic status known is one that is uniquely one's own. You may rest assured of our confidentiality."
"Thank you. And I likely shouldn't hold you up too long, so is there anything else you would like to know before I leave? Ms. Grey has my contact information too." Magnes' hands cupped together as he attempts to keep his attention focused on the professor, seeming to become a bit distracted by how well decorated the room is inbetween pauses. "Oh and is there a certain time I should come back here or anything? LIke some kind of appointment or schedule?"
The Professor tips his head to one side, the afternoon light streaming in through the windows to paint the bald scalp with white. "I believe the next step is with Dr. Grey or Dr. McCoy," he says firmly, lifting a hand in demurral. "Medical tests precede any experimentation. I will leave it to them to contact you at their convenience. They will advise me when they feel that they have a more comprehensive understanding of the physiological causes. Without that, it is difficult to determine your limits and risks to your health."
Magnes nods finally, standing and stretching with a yawn, covering his mouth. "Sorry, I studied a lot today." A tired smile after his yawn. "Alright, I can pretty much be contacted whenever, the number I left is my cell. I'll try and avoid my power activating as best I can, until it's been tested." Leaning down and holding his hand out to shake. "It was nice speaking with you, Professor, I feel much better about everything now, thank you again."
The hand that clasps Magnes's is a scribe's hand, a pianist's hand, long-fingered and fine-boned and graceful. The skin is cool and dry, thin with age; the strength in the fingers is vigorous and alive. "I'm glad to be of assistance," the Professor says gravely, and the hazel eyes twinkle just a bit. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Mr. Varlane. I believe--" The door opens, and a small, rumpled little head pops in. "--Mr. Donovan will show you out. Eric, if you would? Have a good day."
Magnes nods one last time, a habit with authority, then with the release of his hand, he casually waves. "I look forward to our next meeting!" He exclaims, exiting with Mr. Donovan.
And in the office behind him, Professor Xavier puffs a small exhalation into the back of his hand and returns to his work. Red ink scribbles. The afternoon wears on.
[Log ends]