[Moira would hardly have noticed Erik there if not for the smell of the cigarette smoke. Sitting on the floor as he is, he seems smaller and less imposing to her than normal. She wonders if perhaps he is a softer and kinder man than he generally let on. She stands in the doorway and watches him for a few moments, lithe form bent over a book, long fingers holding the smoldering cigarette. In the soft light she finds him handsome in a way she's never noticed before.]
Erik.
[Her voice is soft, and though she is leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, her bare foot taps at the hardwood floor with repressed energy.]
Evening, miss. Mactaggert. [ Glancing over at her, he gives her due consideration-- not forthcoming, but level; Erik is generally more reserved around the others in the house (outside of Charles, of course) despite their daily proximity between training sessions, and communal meal times. The tapped out litany of her foot against the floor gets a more interested turn of his expression; and he catches the hint of restlessness. ]
Is everything in order? [ Removing the cigarette from his mouth; held between his middle and forefinger-- a sliver of smoke escapes from between his teeth, snaking upwards. It is not a habit that he duly indulges, however the small, sliver cigarette case is a fixture of his jackets' inner pockets. ]
[Though not a smoker herself, she couldn't begrudge someone else their vice, even if it did make her eyes sting. She takes a few steps toward him but refrains from sitting, knowing that she'd be even more antsy while sitting than she already is standing.]
Everything except me, apparently. I don't think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.
004 → Solitude butwedonotSeptember 22 2011, 21:00:40 UTC
[ He had, he figures, counted almost every little crack in the ceiling twice but his thoughts refused to give him repreive. Sunken into the middle of that large, but soft, bed; he found himself wondering how many others were having a restless night sleep. Most of them, after a quick survey, seemed to be doing fine-- better than Charles anyway. There was some anxiousness he couldn't rid and a strangely empty feeling coming from his normally comfortable bed. Pulling the blanket down he sighed and slid out of it.
Charles paced around his room, around the study, the kitchen, even on the back terrace before he found himself nearly walking on auto-pilot. So when he arrived at Erik's door it was a little surprising. Biting the inside of his cheek to quell how entirely awkward it could be he sent out a lightly probing thought, ] Erik? [ He didn't want to just wander in if the man was already resting-- they both needed their sleep, and he didn't need to set anyone off either. ]
[ Fingers pause on the page, the book held open in his lap; the light from the bedside lamp causes enough of a soft glow to allow him to read. The touch of that presence-- the strength of feeling that is so entirely Charles causes him to look up from the cloth-bound volume, blinking once with interest, and he consciously thinks back, ] Come in, it's unlocked. [ He doesn't bother to get out of bed and open the door-- there was no need for such a sense of propriety with Charles; something about the telepath had him intrinsically comfortable; a subtle calming influence that tonight seems to be just vaguely unsettled. However, the handle does turn by itself, having unlocked a moment before
( ... )
[ He presses his fingers against the solid wood of the door, nudging it open at first to get a gauge on the situation. Taking a look around he noted Erik's comfortable posture and the well worn book in his hands and actually cracks a little bit of a smile, it was a bit of a roll reversal in his mind; at least visually. Stepping inside he gently nudges the door closed behind him.
Stepping around to the edge of the bed, he leaned himself against the foot board with a little huff of air passing his lips. ] Just not able to sleep, I wandered around for a bit but everything felt... [ He pauses, trying to gather the proper words, ] Everything seemed empty; I thought I'd come and see if you were awake.. [ He realizes then, that he sounds a bit silly and a light flush colors his cheeks but he laughs it off. ] I really have no idea why I showed up here; it seemed like a good idea at the time.
[ While Erik does not return the smile, his expression seems bemused nonetheless-- eyebrows inching just barely upwards when Charles moves into the room. It's not unwelcome; the other man's company has been something that he seeks out-- enjoying the easy familiarity that came with it. The blush deepens his own amusement; while not being the mind-reader of the pair, he's learning quickly that Charles is far from difficult to read; his changes in expression and gestures are as expressive as any explanation. ] I'm not so heartless as to turn you out into the hallway, my friend, sit down at least. [ There's a dismissive gesture to accompany that, and with a mild countenance he considers the telepath from across the bed. ]
It is your house, after all. [ Shifting the book, tucking the inner flap of the dust cover to mark his page, Erik settles both hands on the covers-- seeming close to pensive. ] What would make you say it seems empty?
[ He pauses, his lips not quite managing the words to tell him it's almost always been empty. Even when Raven had come, neither of them had ever felt particularly warmed up to the place-- Raven often telling him she preferred the flat at Oxford; but they couldn't stay there forever-- and they certainly couldn't fit the whole lot they have now into the small flat. He bumps his knees against the wooden foot-board, his fingers lightly tracing the blankets at the edge of the bed. ] Perhaps it's the quiet or just being back here again-- it's not a especially warm home. [ The ornate fixtures and ancient rugs were beautiful, but lent nothing to it feeling any more like a home than the unsmiling pictures hung on the wall.
He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject, ] I see you're still awake...?
[ It's a moment before Erik glances down to the book that he's holding-- because the hesitation from the other man did seem to imply more than he had said; he knows very little about Charles' life, or the family that had surely once lived in this house. Shifting a little on the bed, he catches the other's eye, still seeming to study him-- possibly somewhat reluctant to change the subject, though he allows it with no comment on the earlier matter. ] Reading, yes. [ There's a touch of humor in his tone, just vaguely patronizing, although it is mainly fond teasing. One finger taps the book's cover. ] Your library has a considerable collection.
[ He sits back against the headboard, relaxing his posture, the book still held loosely in his hands. ] I don't think I'm going to be the most competent chess opponent, if was what you were originally out for.
I like books, my father liked books quite a lot too, I'm sure my grandfather probably did as well considering the number of shelves in this house. [ A mildly thoughtful expression, but he doesn't let himself be drawn into memories. He turns sideways, just enough to rest his weight on the edge of the bed, leaning himself in Erik's direction by planting a hand down in a clear space to balance himself. He doesn't move any closer, it's far forward and unusual enough to be in another mans bedroom in the middle of the night. ]
I wasn't looking to drag you out of bed, [ He murmurs, looking a bit abashed, ] I simply came for a few moments of company. [ He sighs, and for a moment the lines of his face are more pronounced, that ever present youthful exuberance is lacking, the night had been long and wearing on Charles. ]
Coming from Oxford, I'd expect that you wouldn't have much of a choice in that matter. [ His gaze follows the man.
It's a new position to be placed in-- and he has not experienced Charles quite so uncomfortable, around himself of all people. There had been that initial awkwardness when they had met; and he had borne the brunt of the other man's eager friendship. It had begun on uneven footing, because Erik is no telepath, while Charles-- Charles knew everything about him. It had been disconcerting, though he had been as curious as the telepath-- and the mutual fascination had given way to genuine camaraderie. Erik watches, tongue running over his bottom lip before speaking. ] Relax, my friend.
[ He motions to the edge of the bed, a frown finally creasing his brow. ] Are you sure that everything is alright with you?
As well as can be expected what with everything going on, [ The looming threat of a third World War, a house full of noisy children, uncomfortable memories of his, and occasionally Raven's, childhood looming in the house. He wants to make it into something better, this place-- with these people, but he knows that it's a bit foolish on his part. A school for mutants, however fantastic would always be questioned-- unless they managed to fix this, the nuclear threat-- then perhaps he could make things better for the next generation and Erik... Erik. He sucks in a breath turning a half smile on him, ]
I am being truthful with you, my friend, I had just come for your company. I'm not sure why, it just seemed right.
[ He puts the book aside, setting it down next to him on the bed. There's something off about this evening-- he'd felt it immediately when Charles had entered; possibly a hint of emotional runoff from the other man's wide-open consciousness. There's a silence after Charles has spoken, because it's too late for chess, and he's drowsy enough that a discussion on mutant-human coexistence would be entirely moot. There's something else too-- not tension, surely, but he can't put any other name to it-- something still unsaid between them both; walked around and talked around over the passing weeks. After the heavy pause (and Erik has looked away for it; studying the cover of the book-- the oldest edition he's seen; with the original illustration) he catches the other man's eye again, seeming oddly abashed. ]
Well, I'm glad you did. [ But he's still hesitant, although there's an answering smile sent the other's way. ]
[ He nods gently, one hand reaching up and rubbing along his shoulder blade, pushing his fingers down into the tense muscle and debating his own choices. Erik's words were a bit of a relief to his concious, though he was still questioning his reasoning-- or more so the actions he allowed himself. Things had been trending so close to the edge, that ease of their new-found friendship was something he'd be hard-pressed to risk. Still...
Shifting up the bed from near the foot of it, and nearer to settling beside Erik's knees his brows knit together. Concern, or perhaps worry, flashing across his features as he lifted his gaze again. Charles, even with everything that he had experienced, had never really learned to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve. ] Erik, I--... [ He begins and then silences himself, because non of the things he has to say sound right, none of them express his thoughts so easily as a simple action. A simple, foolish action-- but risk a little, live a lot. Leaning to the side he rests more weight on the hand still
( ... )
[ There's a waver behind his eyes-- some fluctuation of tenderness, because God, this is Charles-- and it's been so long since anyone cared enough to get that close to him-- and there's uncertainty at first as to exactly how to approach this; some part of him nags for caution. He doesn't kiss back; but a hand closes on the other man's wrist, thumb pressed to the pulse that's faster than he knows it should be. There's no denying this; it's been there since the night in the Atlantic ocean-- for what else, other than this, would a man throw himself into such cold, unknown water?
Some rigid, enclosed space in his chest gives; and Erik glances down, still with that lightly intense composure that never fails him-- but now there's something joining it, and the corner of his mouth curves upwards, The Great Gatsby lying entirely forgotten on the covers. The initial surprise is quick to fade; though that disbelief clings fast-- and with it a sense of the most immediate respite. Everything had been so close to the surface between them; and
( ... )
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Erik.
[Her voice is soft, and though she is leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, her bare foot taps at the hardwood floor with repressed energy.]
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Is everything in order? [ Removing the cigarette from his mouth; held between his middle and forefinger-- a sliver of smoke escapes from between his teeth, snaking upwards. It is not a habit that he duly indulges, however the small, sliver cigarette case is a fixture of his jackets' inner pockets. ]
Reply
Everything except me, apparently. I don't think sleep is in the cards for me tonight.
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Charles paced around his room, around the study, the kitchen, even on the back terrace before he found himself nearly walking on auto-pilot. So when he arrived at Erik's door it was a little surprising. Biting the inside of his cheek to quell how entirely awkward it could be he sent out a lightly probing thought, ] Erik? [ He didn't want to just wander in if the man was already resting-- they both needed their sleep, and he didn't need to set anyone off either. ]
Reply
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Stepping around to the edge of the bed, he leaned himself against the foot board with a little huff of air passing his lips. ] Just not able to sleep, I wandered around for a bit but everything felt... [ He pauses, trying to gather the proper words, ] Everything seemed empty; I thought I'd come and see if you were awake.. [ He realizes then, that he sounds a bit silly and a light flush colors his cheeks but he laughs it off. ] I really have no idea why I showed up here; it seemed like a good idea at the time.
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It is your house, after all. [ Shifting the book, tucking the inner flap of the dust cover to mark his page, Erik settles both hands on the covers-- seeming close to pensive. ] What would make you say it seems empty?
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He clears his throat and quickly changes the subject, ] I see you're still awake...?
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[ He sits back against the headboard, relaxing his posture, the book still held loosely in his hands. ] I don't think I'm going to be the most competent chess opponent, if was what you were originally out for.
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I wasn't looking to drag you out of bed, [ He murmurs, looking a bit abashed, ] I simply came for a few moments of company. [ He sighs, and for a moment the lines of his face are more pronounced, that ever present youthful exuberance is lacking, the night had been long and wearing on Charles. ]
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It's a new position to be placed in-- and he has not experienced Charles quite so uncomfortable, around himself of all people. There had been that initial awkwardness when they had met; and he had borne the brunt of the other man's eager friendship. It had begun on uneven footing, because Erik is no telepath, while Charles-- Charles knew everything about him. It had been disconcerting, though he had been as curious as the telepath-- and the mutual fascination had given way to genuine camaraderie. Erik watches, tongue running over his bottom lip before speaking. ] Relax, my friend.
[ He motions to the edge of the bed, a frown finally creasing his brow. ] Are you sure that everything is alright with you?
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I am being truthful with you, my friend, I had just come for your company. I'm not sure why, it just seemed right.
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Well, I'm glad you did. [ But he's still hesitant, although there's an answering smile sent the other's way. ]
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Shifting up the bed from near the foot of it, and nearer to settling beside Erik's knees his brows knit together. Concern, or perhaps worry, flashing across his features as he lifted his gaze again. Charles, even with everything that he had experienced, had never really learned to stop wearing his heart on his sleeve. ] Erik, I--... [ He begins and then silences himself, because non of the things he has to say sound right, none of them express his thoughts so easily as a simple action. A simple, foolish action-- but risk a little, live a lot. Leaning to the side he rests more weight on the hand still ( ... )
Reply
Some rigid, enclosed space in his chest gives; and Erik glances down, still with that lightly intense composure that never fails him-- but now there's something joining it, and the corner of his mouth curves upwards, The Great Gatsby lying entirely forgotten on the covers. The initial surprise is quick to fade; though that disbelief clings fast-- and with it a sense of the most immediate respite. Everything had been so close to the surface between them; and ( ... )
Reply
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