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xp_logsAfter all of the day's fun and excitement, including the Dance Dance Revolution party mentioned on Dani's journal, Forge and Crystal talk about their recent time away from the mansion. Crystal decides to listen and let Forge do most of the talking, but throws in a few comments here and there.
Forge grabbed a small dish towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he filled a glass with water from the tap. As much fun as watching Dance Dance Revolution was, playing it usually left him feeling like he'd been mugged. After drinking the glass down in a series of long, loud gulps, he sat down on the kitchen floor and examined his prosthetic leg where it disappeared under the hem of his basketball shorts. Despite being able to mimic human motion and function adequately, the crude meshing of biological and mechanical parts tended to rebel when one spent the better part of an hour jumping up and down like a maniac with no sense of rhythm.
Crystal had arrived in the recreation room to find people making utter fools of themselves. That was to be expected, though, as that had seemed to be the point of this evening's entertainment. Bad "dancing" seemed to be taken as being more fun than good "dancing" on this machine. Be that as it was, Crystal did not intend to make any sort of fool out of herself. If she decided to use the machine, she would do so properly.
Forge, it seemed, was one of the people who was perfectly fine with looking silly on the Dance Dance Revolution machine. "Welcome back," Crystal said, walking over to him.
"Hmm?" Forge looked up at Crystal, and gave a tired wave and smile, resting his head against one of the counters. "Ah, yes. I was gone. My legs are trying to convince me that I ran here all the way from Scotland. I'd offer a glass of water, but as you can see I am in a state of utter exhaustion and shame. I am many things, a genius without peer, a veritable deus inter machina, but a dancer, alas, I cannot lay claim to that title. Unlike yourself, however." Despite his exhortations, Forge levered himself up to a standing position, trying not to put any weight on his left leg. "You, good Lady, have talent."
"Yes, you were gone, and I was away when you returned, so while I am sure that others have already had the chance to welcome you back, this was my first opportunity to do so myself." Avoiding Mondo and his evil intentions had taken up part of the afternoon, and despite the publicized giddiness about what Mondo had done, not everyone felt the same way. "Thank you, Forge, although I would hardly define the 'dancing' done on this machine as true dancing. Still, both real dancing and this sort of dancing take talent as well as practice in order to be done in a proper fashion."
"So true," Forge agreed, pulling a small hex wrench out of a pocket and reaching down to adjust cleverly-concealed screws on his leg without any trace of self-consciousness. "It's been a particularly chaotic month, I realize. There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered," he quoted, finishing his adjustments and standing up straight. "Nelson Mandela said that. I'm starting to realize the wisdom of all those quotations Doctor McCoy loves to throw at me."
Crystal nodded, thinking about the week she had just spent in Attilan, and her reasons for going home. "You have changed, then?" she asked. She had changed, she knew, both in the time since she had arrived at the mansion in June and even just from the recent events and the past week.
Pondering that for a moment, Forge shook his head. "Not exactly, I think. It's like... does a block of marble change when a sculptor turns it into art, or was the art always there? I suppose my outlook has changed, but I'm still... me. When all this happened to me, I mean, finding out I was a mutant, dealing with my accident, being sent here - I started looking at my life as things that happened to me -like nothing was in my control, you know?"
He brushed the dishtowel against his forehead once more, then draped it over one arm, folding it over itself repeatedly, tugging at corners. "I was so proud of my powers, what I can do. I thought that set me apart. But then I came to learn, it's not what I can do, it's what I do with it."
He held up the towel, folded into an origami-style crane. "Control. Took me a while, but I found it. Sounds corny, but it's like I just needed to step back for a bit, let go, and it's like I opened my eyes for the first time."
"The possibility of the art was there, but the exact work could not have already been there, as the exact piece that was made depended on the person making the sculpture," Crystal said before realizing the question was probably a rhetorical one. "But, really, in a way, that is what you are saying, yes? The possibility for what you have the opportunity to do with your powers, with yourself, was always there, but you had to discover them at a later point." Crystal knew what it was like to feel that little or nothing was in your control. She didn't like feeling that way, but at times, there wasn't much she could do about it. "I take it that this time away was quite worthwhile for you."
"Immensely," Forge admitted with a nod, tossing the crane into the air and catching it by the tail, snapping it back into the unformed shape of the original towel and wiping his face. "Distance and perspective have their uses. When you start seeing the big picture, then it's harder for your circumstances to control you. Today, for instance. Not twenty-four hours ago, I was burning the midnight oil using every trick I knew to track down someone who was lost. Now? He's found, safe, and I'm pushing artificial tendons and servos to the limit playing a silly dancing game. Because I realized that we can choose to hide from this life that we find ourselves in - this life where you find an assassin pointing a gun at you when you're seven years old -or we can accept it, with all its attendant stress and crises. And we live for the moments between those times. Hearing people laugh like idiots in the hall, or arguing over how loud the music is, or dancing - that's what I choose."
Forge stopped, now slightly self-conscious. "Okay, now I know I spend too much time talking to the Professor. Starting to develop that soliloquizing habit. But basically, yeah. Some time to think made me appreciate what I have."
Forge was being quite talkative tonight. That was fine, sometimes people needed to talk. A lot. Truly, it was much better to let things out than keep them bottled in, wasn't it? You simply needed to keep in mind how and when certain things were said, and to whom they were said. Sometimes, too, when people needed to talk, it was best to listen, say very little, and avoid making a big fuss over the mention of someone who had been missing.
Crystal nodded. "I am glad that you were able to have this time away. It sounds as if you really needed it. It is good to feel that you are able to make your own choices in life."
"It is, isn't it? So, you've been traveling, you said. Anything especially interesting?" Forge asked innocently. "Alliances, intrigue, betrothals - you know, any of the fun 'royal stuff' that makes for exciting stories?"
"In order to prevent a war, I became engaged to a king from a small yet powerful country and after I graduate I will move to his mysterious country and rule by his side," Crystal said matter-of-factly.
"Awesome," Forge said in an identical tone, "and their national exports are cheese and ninjas, yes? That would be the best mysterious country ever." He managed to keep a straight face before laughing out loud. "You know, perspective or not, I could almost see that happening. Thanks, Crystal. You always know how to provide a... fresh perspective on things."
He raised one arm, then paused awkwardly. "This is where normally I would give someone a friendly one-armed hug to show platonic affection, except I get the feeling I'd wind up with a very chill wind in a very uncomfortable location, so just... thank you."
Late that evening, while floating through the hallways, Crystal passes by the sunroom and discovers Nathan, work-free, sitting in the dark.
It had been a crazy day. The people at the mansion were insane. They admitted it, didn't they, and even seemed proud of it to some degree. They had their version of fun and she had hers. Really, it had been quite entertaining to watch the mansion residents play Dance Dance Revolution, and she had enjoyed playing the pseudo-dancing game herself.
Floating past the sunroom, Crystal paused and peered in curiously. It was dark, but someone was in there. At first, she wondered why someone would be sitting there in the dark, but then she realized that this could actually be a very good way to have a temporary reprieve from the insanity of the past day, week, month, or even year.
"Hello, Crystal." Nathan's expression was unreadable in the dark, but one could hear the hint at a smile in his voice. "Have a good time with the crazy dancing machine?"
Crystal nodded, smiling slightly as she floated into the darkened sunroom. "Yes, I had fun." Thankfully, no kazoos or screaming boys made an appearance. "Apparently, I have talent in the area of 'dancing' on such crazy machines. " She wasn't sure how much of a talent this really was, but it had saved her from looking rather silly in front of everyone.
Nathan was slouched in one of the chairs, his feet up on another. A mug of coffee sat at his elbow, and remarkably, he had no laptop or papers on his lap. He seemed to be just... sitting there, staring out at the grounds.
"Not much of a dancer myself," he said lightly. "I did manage at mine and Moira's wedding. I'd promised her and myself I'd dance with the bride - that wasn't long after I recovered from my broken back, so it was kind of a milestone."
"Broken back?" Crystal knew Nathan had broken his brain on more than one occasion, and that he had also suffered from other injuries, but a broken back? And he still kept putting himself into all sorts of dangerous situations, both for Elpis and the X-Men?
Nathan gave a slight shrug. "Couple of years ago, now. I ache when it rains. And in the mornings. And usually when I've been doing any kind of strenuous activity. But obviously my mobility is unimpaired, so really, I got off fairly lightly."
"Oh." Crystal floating closer to Nathan, noticing his lack of work-related anything. "How are you doing? I do not mean in relation to your back or any other physical injuries, I mean from all of the events of the past several weeks."
"Oh, not bad, I suppose. It's been a very long several weeks," he conceded, "but things are under control. My friends are all on the road to recovery." His smile, more visible as Crystal's eyes adjusted to the dark, was faintly sad. "I've been giving myself a little time off the team. Should have taken it much earlier, but, well, events conspired."
"At some point," Crystal said, "everyone needs to take a break." She smiled slightly. "I am sure that this is a very hard idea for you to accept, and I know how much you like to work every single second of the day that you can, but you should not push yourself too hard. Sometimes, yes, pushing yourself and throwing yourself into your work is the best thing to do, but at other times, it is best to simply take a few quiet moments to rest, reflect, and think."
"My therapist would applaud. He's told me to do that numerous times." Nathan's smile lingered as he looked back out at the grounds. "I've been thinking of a poem."
"One does not need to be a trained therapist in order to know that taking a rest can be quite beneficial," Crystal said, laughing lightly. "What sort of poem? One that you have read or one that you are writing?"
"One I am writing. I'll tell you a secret - it's how I've worked out various things in my head for a long time, now. Jack has just encouraged it." Nathan's expression was soft, contemplative. "Words have weight. Words evoke meaning, images, trigger memory. I think a poem is a very powerful thing."
Crystal nodded. "Yes, the manner in which a person presents ideas can be very important. The same basic idea, presented in various manners and forms, can have a different impact depending on the speaker or writer, the way in which he or she chooses to convey the message, and the audience who receives it."
Nathan tilted his head at her. "What's the emotion, behind what you just said?" he asked good-humoredly. "How did you feel, when you said it?"
"Not crazy," Crystal said. "Calm, relaxed... not rushed or worried about anything for the moment."
"Reflective," Nathan suggested. "Seeing all the different permutations possible... have you ever written poetry?" The question was lightly phrased, but serious.
"No, I have not." Crystal blinked, peering down at Nathan. "It is my guess that you will now ask me to consider writing a poem, yes?"
"I think it might appeal more to you than you'd think," Nathan said, oddly tickled by the idea. "It's a way to make sense of the nonsensical, if nothing else, and I think you could probably use that from time to time around here. No?" It was a rhetorical question, and he went on before she could answer. "Poetry can... incorporate ambiguity and contradiction."
"You do not have to convince me; I will write a poem for you." She didn't think Nathan had really meant it as an assignment, but the response was automatic, the same as it had been in the summer when Scott had shared his book with her.
"Make it free verse," Nathan suggested. "Don't bind yourself to any particular form, that's too restrictive when you're just starting out." He straightened slightly in his chair. "And I'd be honored to read it. I should reciprocate - I don't usually show people my poetry, but I could make an exception." Especially given that he was trying to change his habits, there.
"I would be equally honored to read your poems, perhaps even more so since poetry is something that is clearly very special to you," Crystal said. She was not going to offer to write anything about his poems, she was not, those were personal, not part of a school assignment.
"You've actually read one already, I'd think," Nathan said with a helpless smile. "Dani... posted one on her journal a while back. She'd found it in an online poetry journal... it was the first I've published."
"Sporades," Crystal said, recalling the entry. "Is that the only one you have published or have you had other poems published?"
"The first. There might be others," Nathan said, a bit furtively. "We'll see. I didn't expect that one to get back to the mansion." He gave her a whimsical smile. "On the other hand... I am trying to be more open about it. Ambiguity, again. Sometimes it's not such a bad thing."
Forge grabbed a small dish towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he filled a glass with water from the tap. As much fun as watching Dance Dance Revolution was, playing it usually left him feeling like he'd been mugged. After drinking the glass down in a series of long, loud gulps, he sat down on the kitchen floor and examined his prosthetic leg where it disappeared under the hem of his basketball shorts. Despite being able to mimic human motion and function adequately, the crude meshing of biological and mechanical parts tended to rebel when one spent the better part of an hour jumping up and down like a maniac with no sense of rhythm.
Crystal had arrived in the recreation room to find people making utter fools of themselves. That was to be expected, though, as that had seemed to be the point of this evening's entertainment. Bad "dancing" seemed to be taken as being more fun than good "dancing" on this machine. Be that as it was, Crystal did not intend to make any sort of fool out of herself. If she decided to use the machine, she would do so properly.
Forge, it seemed, was one of the people who was perfectly fine with looking silly on the Dance Dance Revolution machine. "Welcome back," Crystal said, walking over to him.
"Hmm?" Forge looked up at Crystal, and gave a tired wave and smile, resting his head against one of the counters. "Ah, yes. I was gone. My legs are trying to convince me that I ran here all the way from Scotland. I'd offer a glass of water, but as you can see I am in a state of utter exhaustion and shame. I am many things, a genius without peer, a veritable deus inter machina, but a dancer, alas, I cannot lay claim to that title. Unlike yourself, however." Despite his exhortations, Forge levered himself up to a standing position, trying not to put any weight on his left leg. "You, good Lady, have talent."
"Yes, you were gone, and I was away when you returned, so while I am sure that others have already had the chance to welcome you back, this was my first opportunity to do so myself." Avoiding Mondo and his evil intentions had taken up part of the afternoon, and despite the publicized giddiness about what Mondo had done, not everyone felt the same way. "Thank you, Forge, although I would hardly define the 'dancing' done on this machine as true dancing. Still, both real dancing and this sort of dancing take talent as well as practice in order to be done in a proper fashion."
"So true," Forge agreed, pulling a small hex wrench out of a pocket and reaching down to adjust cleverly-concealed screws on his leg without any trace of self-consciousness. "It's been a particularly chaotic month, I realize. There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered," he quoted, finishing his adjustments and standing up straight. "Nelson Mandela said that. I'm starting to realize the wisdom of all those quotations Doctor McCoy loves to throw at me."
Crystal nodded, thinking about the week she had just spent in Attilan, and her reasons for going home. "You have changed, then?" she asked. She had changed, she knew, both in the time since she had arrived at the mansion in June and even just from the recent events and the past week.
Pondering that for a moment, Forge shook his head. "Not exactly, I think. It's like... does a block of marble change when a sculptor turns it into art, or was the art always there? I suppose my outlook has changed, but I'm still... me. When all this happened to me, I mean, finding out I was a mutant, dealing with my accident, being sent here - I started looking at my life as things that happened to me -like nothing was in my control, you know?"
He brushed the dishtowel against his forehead once more, then draped it over one arm, folding it over itself repeatedly, tugging at corners. "I was so proud of my powers, what I can do. I thought that set me apart. But then I came to learn, it's not what I can do, it's what I do with it."
He held up the towel, folded into an origami-style crane. "Control. Took me a while, but I found it. Sounds corny, but it's like I just needed to step back for a bit, let go, and it's like I opened my eyes for the first time."
"The possibility of the art was there, but the exact work could not have already been there, as the exact piece that was made depended on the person making the sculpture," Crystal said before realizing the question was probably a rhetorical one. "But, really, in a way, that is what you are saying, yes? The possibility for what you have the opportunity to do with your powers, with yourself, was always there, but you had to discover them at a later point." Crystal knew what it was like to feel that little or nothing was in your control. She didn't like feeling that way, but at times, there wasn't much she could do about it. "I take it that this time away was quite worthwhile for you."
"Immensely," Forge admitted with a nod, tossing the crane into the air and catching it by the tail, snapping it back into the unformed shape of the original towel and wiping his face. "Distance and perspective have their uses. When you start seeing the big picture, then it's harder for your circumstances to control you. Today, for instance. Not twenty-four hours ago, I was burning the midnight oil using every trick I knew to track down someone who was lost. Now? He's found, safe, and I'm pushing artificial tendons and servos to the limit playing a silly dancing game. Because I realized that we can choose to hide from this life that we find ourselves in - this life where you find an assassin pointing a gun at you when you're seven years old -or we can accept it, with all its attendant stress and crises. And we live for the moments between those times. Hearing people laugh like idiots in the hall, or arguing over how loud the music is, or dancing - that's what I choose."
Forge stopped, now slightly self-conscious. "Okay, now I know I spend too much time talking to the Professor. Starting to develop that soliloquizing habit. But basically, yeah. Some time to think made me appreciate what I have."
Forge was being quite talkative tonight. That was fine, sometimes people needed to talk. A lot. Truly, it was much better to let things out than keep them bottled in, wasn't it? You simply needed to keep in mind how and when certain things were said, and to whom they were said. Sometimes, too, when people needed to talk, it was best to listen, say very little, and avoid making a big fuss over the mention of someone who had been missing.
Crystal nodded. "I am glad that you were able to have this time away. It sounds as if you really needed it. It is good to feel that you are able to make your own choices in life."
"It is, isn't it? So, you've been traveling, you said. Anything especially interesting?" Forge asked innocently. "Alliances, intrigue, betrothals - you know, any of the fun 'royal stuff' that makes for exciting stories?"
"In order to prevent a war, I became engaged to a king from a small yet powerful country and after I graduate I will move to his mysterious country and rule by his side," Crystal said matter-of-factly.
"Awesome," Forge said in an identical tone, "and their national exports are cheese and ninjas, yes? That would be the best mysterious country ever." He managed to keep a straight face before laughing out loud. "You know, perspective or not, I could almost see that happening. Thanks, Crystal. You always know how to provide a... fresh perspective on things."
He raised one arm, then paused awkwardly. "This is where normally I would give someone a friendly one-armed hug to show platonic affection, except I get the feeling I'd wind up with a very chill wind in a very uncomfortable location, so just... thank you."
Late that evening, while floating through the hallways, Crystal passes by the sunroom and discovers Nathan, work-free, sitting in the dark.
It had been a crazy day. The people at the mansion were insane. They admitted it, didn't they, and even seemed proud of it to some degree. They had their version of fun and she had hers. Really, it had been quite entertaining to watch the mansion residents play Dance Dance Revolution, and she had enjoyed playing the pseudo-dancing game herself.
Floating past the sunroom, Crystal paused and peered in curiously. It was dark, but someone was in there. At first, she wondered why someone would be sitting there in the dark, but then she realized that this could actually be a very good way to have a temporary reprieve from the insanity of the past day, week, month, or even year.
"Hello, Crystal." Nathan's expression was unreadable in the dark, but one could hear the hint at a smile in his voice. "Have a good time with the crazy dancing machine?"
Crystal nodded, smiling slightly as she floated into the darkened sunroom. "Yes, I had fun." Thankfully, no kazoos or screaming boys made an appearance. "Apparently, I have talent in the area of 'dancing' on such crazy machines. " She wasn't sure how much of a talent this really was, but it had saved her from looking rather silly in front of everyone.
Nathan was slouched in one of the chairs, his feet up on another. A mug of coffee sat at his elbow, and remarkably, he had no laptop or papers on his lap. He seemed to be just... sitting there, staring out at the grounds.
"Not much of a dancer myself," he said lightly. "I did manage at mine and Moira's wedding. I'd promised her and myself I'd dance with the bride - that wasn't long after I recovered from my broken back, so it was kind of a milestone."
"Broken back?" Crystal knew Nathan had broken his brain on more than one occasion, and that he had also suffered from other injuries, but a broken back? And he still kept putting himself into all sorts of dangerous situations, both for Elpis and the X-Men?
Nathan gave a slight shrug. "Couple of years ago, now. I ache when it rains. And in the mornings. And usually when I've been doing any kind of strenuous activity. But obviously my mobility is unimpaired, so really, I got off fairly lightly."
"Oh." Crystal floating closer to Nathan, noticing his lack of work-related anything. "How are you doing? I do not mean in relation to your back or any other physical injuries, I mean from all of the events of the past several weeks."
"Oh, not bad, I suppose. It's been a very long several weeks," he conceded, "but things are under control. My friends are all on the road to recovery." His smile, more visible as Crystal's eyes adjusted to the dark, was faintly sad. "I've been giving myself a little time off the team. Should have taken it much earlier, but, well, events conspired."
"At some point," Crystal said, "everyone needs to take a break." She smiled slightly. "I am sure that this is a very hard idea for you to accept, and I know how much you like to work every single second of the day that you can, but you should not push yourself too hard. Sometimes, yes, pushing yourself and throwing yourself into your work is the best thing to do, but at other times, it is best to simply take a few quiet moments to rest, reflect, and think."
"My therapist would applaud. He's told me to do that numerous times." Nathan's smile lingered as he looked back out at the grounds. "I've been thinking of a poem."
"One does not need to be a trained therapist in order to know that taking a rest can be quite beneficial," Crystal said, laughing lightly. "What sort of poem? One that you have read or one that you are writing?"
"One I am writing. I'll tell you a secret - it's how I've worked out various things in my head for a long time, now. Jack has just encouraged it." Nathan's expression was soft, contemplative. "Words have weight. Words evoke meaning, images, trigger memory. I think a poem is a very powerful thing."
Crystal nodded. "Yes, the manner in which a person presents ideas can be very important. The same basic idea, presented in various manners and forms, can have a different impact depending on the speaker or writer, the way in which he or she chooses to convey the message, and the audience who receives it."
Nathan tilted his head at her. "What's the emotion, behind what you just said?" he asked good-humoredly. "How did you feel, when you said it?"
"Not crazy," Crystal said. "Calm, relaxed... not rushed or worried about anything for the moment."
"Reflective," Nathan suggested. "Seeing all the different permutations possible... have you ever written poetry?" The question was lightly phrased, but serious.
"No, I have not." Crystal blinked, peering down at Nathan. "It is my guess that you will now ask me to consider writing a poem, yes?"
"I think it might appeal more to you than you'd think," Nathan said, oddly tickled by the idea. "It's a way to make sense of the nonsensical, if nothing else, and I think you could probably use that from time to time around here. No?" It was a rhetorical question, and he went on before she could answer. "Poetry can... incorporate ambiguity and contradiction."
"You do not have to convince me; I will write a poem for you." She didn't think Nathan had really meant it as an assignment, but the response was automatic, the same as it had been in the summer when Scott had shared his book with her.
"Make it free verse," Nathan suggested. "Don't bind yourself to any particular form, that's too restrictive when you're just starting out." He straightened slightly in his chair. "And I'd be honored to read it. I should reciprocate - I don't usually show people my poetry, but I could make an exception." Especially given that he was trying to change his habits, there.
"I would be equally honored to read your poems, perhaps even more so since poetry is something that is clearly very special to you," Crystal said. She was not going to offer to write anything about his poems, she was not, those were personal, not part of a school assignment.
"You've actually read one already, I'd think," Nathan said with a helpless smile. "Dani... posted one on her journal a while back. She'd found it in an online poetry journal... it was the first I've published."
"Sporades," Crystal said, recalling the entry. "Is that the only one you have published or have you had other poems published?"
"The first. There might be others," Nathan said, a bit furtively. "We'll see. I didn't expect that one to get back to the mansion." He gave her a whimsical smile. "On the other hand... I am trying to be more open about it. Ambiguity, again. Sometimes it's not such a bad thing."
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