xp_logs | Auntie Em starts recruiting...

On her way back from the gym, Sarah grabs a soda from the kitchen and heads down into the basement. She spent the better part of the afternoon in there, taking out her boredom and pent-up agression on anything she could hit. Her clothes are sticking to her, as well as her hair, and she's looking forward to putting on clothes that aren't sweaty and torn. Not yet anyway. Not really paying that much attention, she pushes the door open with her hip and walks in.

"Hello Sarah."

Emma is standing in the room, dressed in white jodphurs and a white silk waistcoat, leaning against Sarah's desk with her arms crossed and the remote for the widescreen television in her right hand.

Sarah nearly drops the can of soda she's holding, and her head snaps up to see who else is in the room. "Oh. Hi." The door shuts behind her with a click, and she walks casually towards Emma. "I was in the gym, you should have checked there instead of waiting here for me to get back. Have you been here long?"

Emma smiles. "I know where you were, darling. I could feel the fury three floors away." She sets the remote down on the desk, reaches across and plucks the soda from Sarah's hand, pulls a disgusted face at it, then hands it back. "Nice little sanctum you've got here," she offers, though she clearly doesn't think much of the decor.

Sarah takes the soda back, and drinks about half of it before putting it down on the desk. She grins at Emma. "Thanks. I try." She takes the rubber band from her hair and puts it around her wrist. It's just loose enough to not cut off the circulation. " I like it down here. There's a lot less to deal with."

"I quite understand," Emma nods. She runs a finger along the dust on one of the water pipes. "No-one could ever accuse you of an overabundance of school spirit, could they, dear?"

"We're different," she says, putting her hands in her back pockets. "They do things one way, and I do it another."

Emma nods. She swivels the desk chair around and takes a seat. "They can be awfully wet," she says. "But they're mutants, Sarah. It's all about diversity, 'ra ra ra'. I think we have to make room to accomodate different... styles."

"That's not what they want....they'd rather I did things their way." Even when their way doesn't work. A bone shard pushes through at her forearm, and she holds it for a while before tossing it back onto the pile of them sitting in a corner of the room.

Emma looks across at the bone pile. It's an impressive little collection of instruments, both blunt and sharp. She looks back at Sarah. The frustration seethes off her like heat rays, and it probably doesn't take a telepath to see it.

"Well, we're all learning," Emma says. "What way would you do things, Sarah? How would you change the world?"

"Somebody like me doesn't change the world." She shakes her head and sits on the corner of the desk, one knee pulled up to her chest and the other leg hanging down to the floor. "I'm not _trying_ to change the world."

Emma nods. It isn't an unexpected answer. "I suppose I have to change it all on my own, then," she says with a weary sigh. "That's a shame. I was rather hoping for your help."

"Well now that you've mentioned it, you might as well tell it to me." She's fully aware that this answer is probably what Emma was expecting all along, but it doesn't bother her. "How are you going to change the world?"

Emma rises to her feet and crosses the room to the bone pile. She pulls out a particularly sharp curved bone, probably sprung from a femur, and inspects its edge. "By fighting," she says, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. She weighs the bone in her hand, as if preparing to throw it, then tosses it back onto the pile and brushes her hands together.

"The modern world wasn't made with us in mind. We don't fit in. So we can either let them cut off the bits that don't quite fit, or we can fight to make the world fit around us."

"Who, or what even, do you target when you're trying to force the world into accepting you?" She's clearly interested, but skeptical at the same time. She doesn't want to be sent on a wild-goose chase and she certainly doesn't want to be roped into a battle that can't be won.

Emma shakes her head. "If it were just one enemy, Sarah, it would be easy." She picks up one of Jono's containment shirts from the floor, and the LCD display sparks and dances in response to her presence. "But it's not one fight. It's a war. And it begins with Sebastian Shaw."

Sarah smiles, but not a pleasant smile, one more along the lines of satisfaction. "I was hoping I'd get to help with that. I'd like to introduce him to a bone or two. One straight through his throat would be nice."

The image is more than enough to make Emma smile in return. "Yes," she says. "That's the spirit. There's a political game to be played as well, of course. It's not enough to destroy the man; he must also be prevented from leaving a legacy. But, when that is done... there will be blood to be shed as well."

"I'll help with what I can. He's fucked with the wrong people." Bone has begun to crust over her hands, but she only just notices it. She frowns, trying to concentrate on pulling them back in. She doesn't need them _now_.

Emma tosses Jono's shirt down on his bed. "Remember, Sarah; Charles is a noble man, and his X-Men do noble things. But not everything that must be done can be described as... noble. Sometimes, people like yourself, and Jono, and John, and perhaps others of a similar temperament, will be called upon to... raise hell."

Sarah laughs. She likes that idea. A lot. "I think I can do that. Never had any problems with it before."

"That's what I thought," Emma nods. "Keep the television, Sarah, and let me know if there's anything else you need for your little... den. Oh, and try not to borrow any more telepaths. People who tell you there's only one way of doing things, those are the people you shouldn't trust." She heads for the door and grabs the handle. "I'll speak to you soon."

Sarah takes her soda again, pushing herself back further onto the desk. Her legs swing gently over the edge. "Thanks Auntie Em."

"Any time, Sarah, dear." Emma opens the door, offers a little wave, and departs.