Marie-Ange | Statements
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xp_logs(Backdated to March 2nd) Marie-Ange has been reliving power issues from the past.
"You know I appreciate your time. Charmed, as always." It was a twist on what had been a well rehearsed opening, but this interview had the benefit of familiarity. Arthur twirled his pencil and offered the woman across from him a smile — one devoid of any previous showmanship.
“This is just a little fact finding,” he said, "so just a loose script to go through. Let’s start there, then, with some easy questions. How do your powers normally work?” That smile didn't falter or waver with any sense of irony. Like he honestly believed it was just that easy.
"I am as well." Marie-Ange had a sketchpad, but a regular pen. "After our incident, I think a second set might help with perspective. I will scan and share with you."
She set the pen down and showed Arthur the sketchpad, which just had a single drawing of a carrot, all in the distinct blue of a common ballpoint pen. "The first, I turn what I see into a solid astral projection, made of ectoplasm." She barely gestured, a tightening of expression, and opened her free hand and the unnaturally blue vegetable appeared in it. "I can sense them and if they are capable of movement I can control what they do and where they go." She closed her hand around the carrot and it disappeared. "And I can dismiss them at any time."
There was the scratch of a pen on paper as Arthur took loose notes, but his eyes were on the projection. "I'd probably eat a blue carrot, but Marie-Ange, what do you mean by 'astral'? That's a word that gets used a lot, so let's make sure our definitions match." He moved his pen in a small scrawl across the notepad propped on one knee. "What's different lately?"
"I am sure I can find you an avant garde restaurant that has blue carrots." Marie-Ange said. "Astral is a word I adopted, I am told it means the realm of the mind. In my case, I see images with my eye, imagine them and then can make them real. From the realm of the mind to the reality of the world. Lately, and I am still not sure it is not stress..." She tapped her face, first her one real eye and then her matching prosthetic. "I have been making them without the requirement of sight. Once with Quentin, a few times when I was asleep. I had the same problem as a teenager."
"I see," and this response came with a sympathetic nod, "it has been a highly stressful few months. Rancid vibes. If I may, though — you said you don't have to see the images to make right now. Is there still a limit? Just what you see? Or can you just pull anything from your head?"
"I think only things I know and am familiar with. A knife . . . well, really a very small sword." Marie-Ange shrugged off the sweater she was wearing to show the armband tattoo she had. "This sword, but smaller. I am very familiar with it, but I had a jacket on over it when I manifested it. I gave Quentin quite the scare." She flipped pages in the sketchpad to show Arthur a series of cartoonish looking creatures, small humanoids with batwing ears and long fingers. "These quite often, I am always making them for errands. Why make two trips with groceries when I can have an imp carry them around for me." On the paper in coloured pencil, one of the imps was carrying a gallon of milk. A glance, and Marie-Ange had it standing in front of her, minus the gallon jug. It turned itself around, scratched behind one floppy ear, and then disappeared into a puff of mist. "Amanda and I found one in the pantry one morning, doing a catscradle. I had as much control as I ever do, but until I saw it, I had no idea it existed."
Arthur grimaced. "So, a return back to teen problems? Ouch."
"Rather that, yes. My imaging power has been well-behaved for a very long time. The other... The precognition has been less volatile than it was when I was younger but . . . " Again Marie-Ange tapped her eyepatch. "I cheated. I have no idea what it would be like without multiple interventions. Did I use it quite a lot lately, very much yes, but I could not tell you with any certainty if it was behaving normally. There is no normal for it."
"Out of the three of us," the other man confided like it was a club, "North said he's been getting more, unexpected visions, and he said the same thing about normal.” He tried for an honest smile. "One last thing, then — when did you first notice these changes, and where? Have you been away from the mansion for more than a day in the last three months?"
"Constantly. Two days in Los Angeles, a week in Spain . . . " Marie-Ange counted along on her fingers. "A day trip to a terrible little town in Ohio, a drive up and down the east coast. The nature of my job, I am almost always traveling."
His pencil traced a small figure eight. "Your examples have only been from the mansion, though. Did you notice anything on the road?"
"Not in particular. Perhaps precognition irregularities, but it has always been irregular." Marie-Ange answered. "Certainly nothing I recall for the imaging power. The furthest away from the mansion I have had any issues was with Quentin, and if it is . . . " She paused. "Your questions about the mansion does suggest you at least have a theory about it being localised, or that is a variable. If it is contagious, then Quentin and I both encountering powers slippage could still be in that category. As far as I know, I have not had any issues away from our community."
"If it is contagious," Arthur admitted with a shrug, "it is clever. Whatever is happening has got most of us, but never in the same way." He paused and met Marie-Ange's eyes straight on. "If you had to research this, like a spy, how would you do it?"
"Much the same. When the relationships are personal, investigation is investigation. Ask questions, formula a theory. We might perhaps deploy more intrusive measures, but when the problem is so localized, and limited to people we know and trust . . . " She paused, considering. "Have you looked into our newest residents? Mister Starsmore, Miss Davis? I hesitate to suggest that Ms Jones could be involved, but she was mentally influenced and we have no trace of her attacker." Marie-Ange jotted a few notes on her own paper, in a looping shorthand. "Who else is newly arrived? All of the Guthrie family, but none of them seem to have any psionic influence. Clea and Stephen are returned, but again they are known to us. My focus would be on new arrivals, or those with known psionic issues."
"That's an angle I hadn't considered," he said. "Jono is set that he isn't telepathic, but Q assures me he's wrong. I've mentioned it to David." Another shrug. "I am closer to Beatrice," at least as close as anyone could be, "but I've been getting mixed vibes from her. She says that there's been nothing. But the others, plus Jess . . . I'll be the first to admit that I forgot about them." His smile was beginning to sag under the weight of all this. "More work to do then."
"You have a timeline, yes? I really do not like to consider that our dimensional visitor is the cause, but..." Marie-Ange shook her head. "I have a very hard time doing any predictions for her, Miss Summers is new, and from another dimension." She looped more shorthand onto the paper. "I will ask Emma if she can screen my people. I do not think my psionic landscape is contagious, but it did once eat an empathic attacker."
He tapped his notepad. "Amanda says she got a dose of my memories days before that, but my power's been . . . " Arthur didn't finish, exactly, but punctuated with silence. But then, a flash of curiosity scrubbed the moment right clean. "Does eating people cause indigestion? Oh, and I'll forward you all this, of course."
"Oh good. I would hate to ask my second favourite fake husband to have to hack my first favourite fake husband's email." She would never, not outside a dire emergency. "I will scan the notes I took, and send them along with anything Emma finds when I ask. Besides Amanda, has anyone who does not have a psionic power been affected? Amanda's power could if I stretch the definition of telepathy, be possibly considered a sort of city specific telepathy I suppose."
This got her a grimace. He tried not to look at his hands. "No, no. It's . . . I was leaving my own memories on objects." There was a blank look as he mentally reviewed his notes, just for clarity. "It has just been the psychics, I think. That was the original thread, though — me, you, David, Hope, Q. Medbay has said that there's been no others complaining of power flares or changes and nothing funny with the wormholeteers."
Arthur sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "Unless you've heard of anyone?"
"Only the same people you already know about." Marie-Ange let herself have bad posture and lean back into the chair. "I wish I had more, but this is the sort of thing that makes me very nervous. The last time something of this nature happened, I was the cause. I do not think it is me this time.." She paused. "Well, not me directly, but the attempt to eat an empathic attacker was my mind defending itself, so really his fault but a terrible powers interaction because of the nature of my precognition."
He blinked, eyes going just a bit blank. "Nature? Like a forest?"
"I have been told it was full of trees.' Marie-Ange said. "But no, at the time it was an astral broken mirror. My mind also loves making those."
That got her a nod. "I see," the man said slowly, like that statement was so incredibly profound he just couldn't find anything in it. "How did you figure out it was you last time?"
"Doctor MacTaggart — Moira . . . She recognized that the powers interaction was my imaging power running loose and had the Professor and Haller undo quite a lot of psionic scarring. Ah . . ." Marie-Ange held up a finger. "The powers incident I had with Quentin, he took the form of the Quentin Quire who set off my powers issue briefly. He and I are both quite certain he has never been in my mind though. Our Quentin is a much more likable individual."
Some folks might argue that fact, but those folks didn't quite have the talent for positivity as Arthur Centino. A fond look passed over his face at the mention of Quentin before Arthur considered the implications. "Well," he started, "if it helps, you weren't the only one Q had face-time issues with. That had to be a whole thing though."
His eyes drifted to some indeterminate place behind Marie-Ange as he tried to put all of these things together, but all Arthur could come up with was a frown. "No, still nothing. Unless you're about to confess you chowed down on another empath and are slowly easing me into that reveal. Building dramatic tension."
Marie-Ange shook her head, a firm negative. "No. Especially that particular empath. I would not surprise anyone with that. I wish it was that easy of an answer. I love secrets, but Arthur I hate mysteries."
The man shook his head. "Mysteries are supposed to be my thing, I guess, but this one just seems mean." Arthur put his smile back on, then, and folded his notepad back to the front cover. He met Marie-Angie's eyes and any trace of previous frustration or doubt was gone.
"We'll all figure it out," he said in a brighter tone, "That's what we do."
"You know I appreciate your time. Charmed, as always." It was a twist on what had been a well rehearsed opening, but this interview had the benefit of familiarity. Arthur twirled his pencil and offered the woman across from him a smile — one devoid of any previous showmanship.
“This is just a little fact finding,” he said, "so just a loose script to go through. Let’s start there, then, with some easy questions. How do your powers normally work?” That smile didn't falter or waver with any sense of irony. Like he honestly believed it was just that easy.
"I am as well." Marie-Ange had a sketchpad, but a regular pen. "After our incident, I think a second set might help with perspective. I will scan and share with you."
She set the pen down and showed Arthur the sketchpad, which just had a single drawing of a carrot, all in the distinct blue of a common ballpoint pen. "The first, I turn what I see into a solid astral projection, made of ectoplasm." She barely gestured, a tightening of expression, and opened her free hand and the unnaturally blue vegetable appeared in it. "I can sense them and if they are capable of movement I can control what they do and where they go." She closed her hand around the carrot and it disappeared. "And I can dismiss them at any time."
There was the scratch of a pen on paper as Arthur took loose notes, but his eyes were on the projection. "I'd probably eat a blue carrot, but Marie-Ange, what do you mean by 'astral'? That's a word that gets used a lot, so let's make sure our definitions match." He moved his pen in a small scrawl across the notepad propped on one knee. "What's different lately?"
"I am sure I can find you an avant garde restaurant that has blue carrots." Marie-Ange said. "Astral is a word I adopted, I am told it means the realm of the mind. In my case, I see images with my eye, imagine them and then can make them real. From the realm of the mind to the reality of the world. Lately, and I am still not sure it is not stress..." She tapped her face, first her one real eye and then her matching prosthetic. "I have been making them without the requirement of sight. Once with Quentin, a few times when I was asleep. I had the same problem as a teenager."
"I see," and this response came with a sympathetic nod, "it has been a highly stressful few months. Rancid vibes. If I may, though — you said you don't have to see the images to make right now. Is there still a limit? Just what you see? Or can you just pull anything from your head?"
"I think only things I know and am familiar with. A knife . . . well, really a very small sword." Marie-Ange shrugged off the sweater she was wearing to show the armband tattoo she had. "This sword, but smaller. I am very familiar with it, but I had a jacket on over it when I manifested it. I gave Quentin quite the scare." She flipped pages in the sketchpad to show Arthur a series of cartoonish looking creatures, small humanoids with batwing ears and long fingers. "These quite often, I am always making them for errands. Why make two trips with groceries when I can have an imp carry them around for me." On the paper in coloured pencil, one of the imps was carrying a gallon of milk. A glance, and Marie-Ange had it standing in front of her, minus the gallon jug. It turned itself around, scratched behind one floppy ear, and then disappeared into a puff of mist. "Amanda and I found one in the pantry one morning, doing a catscradle. I had as much control as I ever do, but until I saw it, I had no idea it existed."
Arthur grimaced. "So, a return back to teen problems? Ouch."
"Rather that, yes. My imaging power has been well-behaved for a very long time. The other... The precognition has been less volatile than it was when I was younger but . . . " Again Marie-Ange tapped her eyepatch. "I cheated. I have no idea what it would be like without multiple interventions. Did I use it quite a lot lately, very much yes, but I could not tell you with any certainty if it was behaving normally. There is no normal for it."
"Out of the three of us," the other man confided like it was a club, "North said he's been getting more, unexpected visions, and he said the same thing about normal.” He tried for an honest smile. "One last thing, then — when did you first notice these changes, and where? Have you been away from the mansion for more than a day in the last three months?"
"Constantly. Two days in Los Angeles, a week in Spain . . . " Marie-Ange counted along on her fingers. "A day trip to a terrible little town in Ohio, a drive up and down the east coast. The nature of my job, I am almost always traveling."
His pencil traced a small figure eight. "Your examples have only been from the mansion, though. Did you notice anything on the road?"
"Not in particular. Perhaps precognition irregularities, but it has always been irregular." Marie-Ange answered. "Certainly nothing I recall for the imaging power. The furthest away from the mansion I have had any issues was with Quentin, and if it is . . . " She paused. "Your questions about the mansion does suggest you at least have a theory about it being localised, or that is a variable. If it is contagious, then Quentin and I both encountering powers slippage could still be in that category. As far as I know, I have not had any issues away from our community."
"If it is contagious," Arthur admitted with a shrug, "it is clever. Whatever is happening has got most of us, but never in the same way." He paused and met Marie-Ange's eyes straight on. "If you had to research this, like a spy, how would you do it?"
"Much the same. When the relationships are personal, investigation is investigation. Ask questions, formula a theory. We might perhaps deploy more intrusive measures, but when the problem is so localized, and limited to people we know and trust . . . " She paused, considering. "Have you looked into our newest residents? Mister Starsmore, Miss Davis? I hesitate to suggest that Ms Jones could be involved, but she was mentally influenced and we have no trace of her attacker." Marie-Ange jotted a few notes on her own paper, in a looping shorthand. "Who else is newly arrived? All of the Guthrie family, but none of them seem to have any psionic influence. Clea and Stephen are returned, but again they are known to us. My focus would be on new arrivals, or those with known psionic issues."
"That's an angle I hadn't considered," he said. "Jono is set that he isn't telepathic, but Q assures me he's wrong. I've mentioned it to David." Another shrug. "I am closer to Beatrice," at least as close as anyone could be, "but I've been getting mixed vibes from her. She says that there's been nothing. But the others, plus Jess . . . I'll be the first to admit that I forgot about them." His smile was beginning to sag under the weight of all this. "More work to do then."
"You have a timeline, yes? I really do not like to consider that our dimensional visitor is the cause, but..." Marie-Ange shook her head. "I have a very hard time doing any predictions for her, Miss Summers is new, and from another dimension." She looped more shorthand onto the paper. "I will ask Emma if she can screen my people. I do not think my psionic landscape is contagious, but it did once eat an empathic attacker."
He tapped his notepad. "Amanda says she got a dose of my memories days before that, but my power's been . . . " Arthur didn't finish, exactly, but punctuated with silence. But then, a flash of curiosity scrubbed the moment right clean. "Does eating people cause indigestion? Oh, and I'll forward you all this, of course."
"Oh good. I would hate to ask my second favourite fake husband to have to hack my first favourite fake husband's email." She would never, not outside a dire emergency. "I will scan the notes I took, and send them along with anything Emma finds when I ask. Besides Amanda, has anyone who does not have a psionic power been affected? Amanda's power could if I stretch the definition of telepathy, be possibly considered a sort of city specific telepathy I suppose."
This got her a grimace. He tried not to look at his hands. "No, no. It's . . . I was leaving my own memories on objects." There was a blank look as he mentally reviewed his notes, just for clarity. "It has just been the psychics, I think. That was the original thread, though — me, you, David, Hope, Q. Medbay has said that there's been no others complaining of power flares or changes and nothing funny with the wormholeteers."
Arthur sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "Unless you've heard of anyone?"
"Only the same people you already know about." Marie-Ange let herself have bad posture and lean back into the chair. "I wish I had more, but this is the sort of thing that makes me very nervous. The last time something of this nature happened, I was the cause. I do not think it is me this time.." She paused. "Well, not me directly, but the attempt to eat an empathic attacker was my mind defending itself, so really his fault but a terrible powers interaction because of the nature of my precognition."
He blinked, eyes going just a bit blank. "Nature? Like a forest?"
"I have been told it was full of trees.' Marie-Ange said. "But no, at the time it was an astral broken mirror. My mind also loves making those."
That got her a nod. "I see," the man said slowly, like that statement was so incredibly profound he just couldn't find anything in it. "How did you figure out it was you last time?"
"Doctor MacTaggart — Moira . . . She recognized that the powers interaction was my imaging power running loose and had the Professor and Haller undo quite a lot of psionic scarring. Ah . . ." Marie-Ange held up a finger. "The powers incident I had with Quentin, he took the form of the Quentin Quire who set off my powers issue briefly. He and I are both quite certain he has never been in my mind though. Our Quentin is a much more likable individual."
Some folks might argue that fact, but those folks didn't quite have the talent for positivity as Arthur Centino. A fond look passed over his face at the mention of Quentin before Arthur considered the implications. "Well," he started, "if it helps, you weren't the only one Q had face-time issues with. That had to be a whole thing though."
His eyes drifted to some indeterminate place behind Marie-Ange as he tried to put all of these things together, but all Arthur could come up with was a frown. "No, still nothing. Unless you're about to confess you chowed down on another empath and are slowly easing me into that reveal. Building dramatic tension."
Marie-Ange shook her head, a firm negative. "No. Especially that particular empath. I would not surprise anyone with that. I wish it was that easy of an answer. I love secrets, but Arthur I hate mysteries."
The man shook his head. "Mysteries are supposed to be my thing, I guess, but this one just seems mean." Arthur put his smile back on, then, and folded his notepad back to the front cover. He met Marie-Angie's eyes and any trace of previous frustration or doubt was gone.
"We'll all figure it out," he said in a brighter tone, "That's what we do."
