Nathan and Marie-Ange, this morning.

[x-tarot.livejournal.com]

Between a quick break, Marie-Ange ducks down to the kitchen for a snack, and meets Nathan, finally. They start to discuss precognition, Nathan warns her not to push it too far, and Angie gets a glimpse as to how her precognition just might be useful for more than seeing horrible things and preventing them.



Long breaks between classes were good. Breaks between classes because of turning in six extra pages on the rise and fall of the Ottoman Empire were not quite as good, but they still meant that snacks could be foraged for. Snacks were good.

Marie-Ange idly wondered when her thought process had become so very Jamie-like, as she examined a bunch of bananas. She also watched the kitchen door carefully. Certain classmates of hers were completely obsessed with making her eat things she would rather not, like peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Once a appropriately un-icky banana was selected, she dropped into a chair, balancing a sketchpad on her knee, and carefully peeling the skin off her snack.

Nathan opened the kitchen door and stopped, blinking at the young woman with the sketchbook and the banana. "Hi there," he said a bit uncertainly as he came in.

"Mr. Dayspring, yes?" Marie-Ange practically beamed, and sat up in her chair. She'd been actively looking forward to talking to him since his post on the journal system. More so since the encounter the other morning. Old people being cute were so funny.

Nathan gave her a somewhat wary look, not entirely sure what the gleeful look she was giving him was all about. "Nathan, please," he said, going over to the fridge and getting a bottle of water. "And you would be Marie-Ange, yes?"

Marie-Ange nodded "Yes. Or Angie, if you prefer," she said, smiling. "I wasn't sure Dr. MacTaggart was going to let you talk to me ever."

"She was just concerned. I was throwing things around telekinetically for a while there." He paused for a minute, and then came over and sat in one of the chairs. Moira had wanted him to see if he could help this girl, and it was past time he tried to do something productive around here. "So what's with the sketchpad?" he asked curiously, inclining his head in that direction. "Are you an artist?"

"Throwing.. things.. around. " Marie-Ange made a small 'erp' noise, and shook her head. "That.. explains it. I didn't mean to be pushy." She frowned for a moment, then tapped the sketchpad with her thumb. "I draw, and paint some, so I suppose I'm an artist. Mostly, this one has things I see. I'm supposed to scan them later, into the computer." She put a very slight emphasis on the word 'see'. It was still too strange to call her dreams 'precognition' on a regular basis.

Nathan blinked, finding himself rather fascinated by the concept. "I'm sort of regretting that I can only manage stick figures now," he said thoughtfully. "Do you find that it helps to draw them?"

"It makes them easier to explain." Marie-Ange frowned thoughtfully, then flipped the pages in her sketchpad to a drawing of a large red-haired man, in coppery armor. "It is much easier to point to this, than to try to explain why I think Mr. Marko works for Sauron," she said, almost laughing. "It helps for the dreams that are not easily to explain."

"I imagine it does." He peered at the sketch for a moment, smiling a little at the Tolkien reference. "It's good that you do this, you know," he said, meeting the girl's eyes again. "When I was first learning how to deal with my precognition, I was told it was best not to internalize what I saw." He smirked. "Of course, I turned around and did it anyways. Wonder if that's to blame for some of my problems now."

Marie-Ange sighed, and closed the sketchpad. "It would likely be easier if they made sense, or if I could turn it on without feeling like someone stomped on my eye, or .. anything." Stupid power. Stupid, uncontrollable, unexplainable... ~Merde.~ "I am sorry. I forgot myself. I really have no place to complain, considering."

"Of course you do," he said, shaking his head at her. "No need to be over-polite--Angie. This isn't a competition to see which of us has it worse when it comes to precognition." He grinned suddenly, almost involuntarily. "I think we can both agree that it's a mutant power with more than its fair share of drawbacks."

"Like knives stabbing behind the eye, and not sleeping. Still, they tell me I helped save Alex, and for that, at least, I am a little grateful. I just wish it made more sense." Marie-Ange nodded, then smiled. "Oh! I wanted to thank you. Doug's been moping about not being useful for weeks, and getting to help picked up his mood a lot."

Nathan flushed. "I--well, I'm just glad I didn't do anything unfortunate when I lost it. I really wasn't expecting to go into some sort of whacked-out trance when I heard that recording again."

"Merde. Sorry, again. I .. keep speaking without thinking. I was just happy for Doug, he's been upset a while," Marie-Ange said, quietly.

"Well, if helping me helped his mood, I'm glad," Nathan said, and let it be. He really ought to apologize to the boy, though. "Anyhow," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully again. "Are you getting headaches frequently?"

Marie-Ange shook her head. "That was only the once. I tried to. This is going to sound silly, but Amanda suggested that I try to use tarot cards, and I did a reading for Doug. I had a headache like someone was stabbing me in the eye for a day after."

"Well," Nathan said dryly, "there's a solution to that. Don't try and force it." Marie-Ange opened her mouth, but he went on before she could speak. "Look, I know that's easier said than done, especially given the nature of what you're seeing, but you don't want to hurt yourself while this ability is still emerging. Worse case scenario, you could accidentally block yourself, and that would be hell to deal with."

Marie-Ange sighed. She had been wondering when someone was going to suggest that. "If I don't try to use it, I'm told I won't sleep much at all. I am trying, very hard, not to overdo it. I've only forced it once, and not again since that," she said, scowling.

"I said it was easier said than done," Nathan admitted, "and it's also a very fine line. You just need to be careful. A precognitive inhibition is nearly impossible to correct." He gave her an intent look. "Does it frighten you?" he asked. "What you see?"

"A bit. I saw friends being hurt, and it happened some time later, and I have seen Doug getting shot. I don't know how to tell him." Marie-Ange rubbed the bridge of her nose, frowning. "This would be much easier if someone had said there was such a thing as precognitive inhibition, or overdoing it. Or that I might -have- crazy dreams that come true, and not sleep."

Nathan sighed. "It's not the most common of mutations," he pointed out. "Moira's had more experience than most, after all these years of knowing me, and mine is very different from yours." He paused, thinking. "One of my original instructors used to call precognitive inhibitions the Cassandra complex. The human mind is not supposed to see the future. It's not emotionally equipped to deal with the burden of foreknowledge. That's why it's so easy to develop a problem with this particular mutation." He smiled thinly. "It's not a survival-oriented trait."

"Cassandra. . That's the woman from the .. " Marie-Ange thought. She knew that one, Doug had been using it as an email alias a week ago. "Oh. That's the seer from the Iliad! That makes sense. No one believed her." She tilted her head, questioningly. "I suppose it could be .. survival oriented, if it was useable." There was something about .. oh. Right. "Oh. I did get the headache again, " she said, grinning self-consciously. "Kitty was taking bets on what you might teach.."

Nathan blinked. "Teach? Me?" He frowned. "You've seen me teaching?" he asked a bit incredulously. "Here?"

"Uh. Not... exactly." Marie-Ange ducked her head. "I just .. I had some of Dr. MacTaggart's coffee, and .. I was either going to bet ten dollars on law, or on gym, and law seemed .. more right, I think."

"Law--" Nathan stopped, then forced himself to smile. "I have a law degree, Angie."

Marie-Ange's eyes widened. "You are kidding, no?"

"No, I'm not." He shrugged. "I have two degrees, actually; one in history and international relations, and the law degree. I never practiced--not much opportunity to, in my occupation."

"Kitty is never going to let me bet on anything again. Damn." Marie-Ange couldn't help but laugh. The entire situation was either funny or cringe-worthy, and funny was much, much easier to deal with.

"Make sure you keep laughing, Angie," Nathan advised. "As long as you can do that, you know you're still on top of it."