Xavier, Amanda - Thursday afternoon
Aug. 19th, 2004 02:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_daytripper posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsDuring the fight between Pete and Nathan, Charles makes a desperate decision and involves one of the students in the matter. Amanda comes through, despite being scared to death.
As soon as Pete had distracted Nathan, Charles had hurried the students to the shelter of a nearby cafe, keeping them well beneath the line of the windows. It was by no means ideal, but he hoped it would serve to keep them safe until the X-Men could arrive.
He kept his mind primarily on the battle as it developed, mostly watching Pete, occasionally venturing an appraisal of Nathan's shields -- the lightest whispered brush he could manage, under the circumstances, and every single one told him the same thing: he could not shut Nathan down, not by himself, not without triggering a telekinetic explosion that would endanger innocent lives.
It was, moreover, becoming increasingly clear that Pete wouldn't last until the team arrived. He was good, yes -- but he was trying to subdue Nathan, with powers ill-suited to the task, and Nathan's telekinesis was simply overwhelming. Some other measure was required, and Charles thought he knew what it was. He sighed, murmured a brief but heartfelt prayer that he was about to do the right thing, and turned his attention away from the fight.
#Amanda,# he called. #I need your help.#
From where she was crouched, Amanda could get barest glimpses of the fight unfolding, but they were enough to fuel the growing sick feeling in her stomach. She was barely aware of the restraining hand on her arm, one of her classmates, concerned she'd get involved. She could have told them that possibility was pretty unlikely - it was all she could do not to curl in a ball and whimper. Then the car exploded, and she flinched. Columbia. It was Columbia all over again, and people were going to die, maybe even the ones she knew and cared about, and the magic wouldn't work, it never worked in situations like this.
Then she heard the Professor's voice in her mind, and she recoiled again, almost casting her shielding spell in reflex. It was so unexpected, that at first she didn't realise what he was saying to her, over the clamour in her head. Then she focussed - this was important, for fuck's sake - and realised that he'd asked her for help, her of all people.
#What?# she sent back, confused. #What can I do?#
#I'd hoped to subdue Nathan telepathically -- render him unconscious, so we could bring him home and find a way to break their hold over him. That . . . will not be possible, given the strength of his conditioning. If you are willing, however, I could conceal you from his psychic senses long enough for you to use your sleep
spell.# Charles paused. #There will, nevertheless, be. . . a significant amount of risk. I would not ask this of you if I saw any other way, and if you refuse, no one would think badly of you for it."
#But...# Amanda had no doubt the Professor could see all the doubts, know she was thinking that there was nothing she could do, and yet he'd still asked... She remembered Nathan and the sleeping potions, how well her magic did actually work on him, no matter what frame of mind he was in, and she felt the barest glimmer of hope that something might indeed be possible. Suddenly her hands weren't shaking quite so much. #I have my shielding spell,# she offered, tentatively. #That should protect me a bit, unless he starts throwing metal at me.#
#Another layer of precautions would certainly be wise, although ideally Nathan will never notice you in the first place, and if all else fails I will distract Nathan myself rather than allow you to come to harm,# Charles replied, his mental tone going slightly vague as he began constructing the shield around Amanda. Dampening the girl's own uncontrolled projections was the easy part; what was significantly harder, though equally necessary, was a layer that mimicked the natural ebb and flow of the astral plane as it would have been without Amanda's presence. Reality needed no justification; illusion was much harder to maintain. #I think . . . that ought to suffice, on the telepathic level,# he sent at last. #And Amanda . . . the true measure of courage is perseverance in spite of all doubt and loss of hope. If I thought I had any right to be, I would be very proud of you, right now.#
There was another crash from outside, and Amanda's eyes flickered to the window again. Pete wasn't going to last much longer, and if it was up to her, well then, it was up to her. If there was anything at all she could do to end this... #I'm doin' this for Nate,# she sent back. #He'd do the same for me, if it was the other way 'round.# There was a brief flicker of blue around her as she cast the shielding spell, knowing it would stop Nathan from grabbing her telekinetically if he actually sensed her under the Professor's cloak, and then she stood, taking a deep breath to stop the shaking. #Here goes. Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast,# she sent back with a flash of humour, and then stepped outside.
Charles managed the briefest telepathic flicker of a wry smile in Amanda's direction before maintaining the cloak demanded the lion's share of his attention. It did not help in the slightest that the panic of the crowd and the back-and-forth surges of the fight were turning the local portion of the astral into a murky, roiling soup. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he guided the psychic ebb and flow around Amanda, all the while projecting the illusion that only empty space existed where she was.
Pete's final burst of hot knives, and the accompanying psychic surges from both men, nearly caused him to lose the cloak; he held on with his fingertips, teeth gritted. *Damn me for an old fool, I should have acted sooner--* Thought translated into telepathic sending. #Amanda, it must be now.#
#Almost there...# she replied, concentrating on not getting skewered by stray hotknives as she snuck up on Nathan. A few glanced off her shielding, and she spared a moment to glance at Pete. The Professor was right, this had to end now, before one of them went too far, if they hadn't already. Nathan dropped to her knees, and she saw the opening - she shoved the sleep spell at him with all her power, the new amulet glowing brilliantly blue. 'Stay the hell down, Nate, please,' she thought desperately, offering up a prayer to whatever handy pagan god might be listening.
The big man wavered, then dropped forward like a puppet with its strings cut, which, in a way, he was. Amanda stood over him, shaking with the effort and delayed reaction as adrenaline raced through her system. She'd done it. She'd really done it. #He's out, Prof,# she sent, before the tears started pouring down her face.
As soon as Pete had distracted Nathan, Charles had hurried the students to the shelter of a nearby cafe, keeping them well beneath the line of the windows. It was by no means ideal, but he hoped it would serve to keep them safe until the X-Men could arrive.
He kept his mind primarily on the battle as it developed, mostly watching Pete, occasionally venturing an appraisal of Nathan's shields -- the lightest whispered brush he could manage, under the circumstances, and every single one told him the same thing: he could not shut Nathan down, not by himself, not without triggering a telekinetic explosion that would endanger innocent lives.
It was, moreover, becoming increasingly clear that Pete wouldn't last until the team arrived. He was good, yes -- but he was trying to subdue Nathan, with powers ill-suited to the task, and Nathan's telekinesis was simply overwhelming. Some other measure was required, and Charles thought he knew what it was. He sighed, murmured a brief but heartfelt prayer that he was about to do the right thing, and turned his attention away from the fight.
#Amanda,# he called. #I need your help.#
From where she was crouched, Amanda could get barest glimpses of the fight unfolding, but they were enough to fuel the growing sick feeling in her stomach. She was barely aware of the restraining hand on her arm, one of her classmates, concerned she'd get involved. She could have told them that possibility was pretty unlikely - it was all she could do not to curl in a ball and whimper. Then the car exploded, and she flinched. Columbia. It was Columbia all over again, and people were going to die, maybe even the ones she knew and cared about, and the magic wouldn't work, it never worked in situations like this.
Then she heard the Professor's voice in her mind, and she recoiled again, almost casting her shielding spell in reflex. It was so unexpected, that at first she didn't realise what he was saying to her, over the clamour in her head. Then she focussed - this was important, for fuck's sake - and realised that he'd asked her for help, her of all people.
#What?# she sent back, confused. #What can I do?#
#I'd hoped to subdue Nathan telepathically -- render him unconscious, so we could bring him home and find a way to break their hold over him. That . . . will not be possible, given the strength of his conditioning. If you are willing, however, I could conceal you from his psychic senses long enough for you to use your sleep
spell.# Charles paused. #There will, nevertheless, be. . . a significant amount of risk. I would not ask this of you if I saw any other way, and if you refuse, no one would think badly of you for it."
#But...# Amanda had no doubt the Professor could see all the doubts, know she was thinking that there was nothing she could do, and yet he'd still asked... She remembered Nathan and the sleeping potions, how well her magic did actually work on him, no matter what frame of mind he was in, and she felt the barest glimmer of hope that something might indeed be possible. Suddenly her hands weren't shaking quite so much. #I have my shielding spell,# she offered, tentatively. #That should protect me a bit, unless he starts throwing metal at me.#
#Another layer of precautions would certainly be wise, although ideally Nathan will never notice you in the first place, and if all else fails I will distract Nathan myself rather than allow you to come to harm,# Charles replied, his mental tone going slightly vague as he began constructing the shield around Amanda. Dampening the girl's own uncontrolled projections was the easy part; what was significantly harder, though equally necessary, was a layer that mimicked the natural ebb and flow of the astral plane as it would have been without Amanda's presence. Reality needed no justification; illusion was much harder to maintain. #I think . . . that ought to suffice, on the telepathic level,# he sent at last. #And Amanda . . . the true measure of courage is perseverance in spite of all doubt and loss of hope. If I thought I had any right to be, I would be very proud of you, right now.#
There was another crash from outside, and Amanda's eyes flickered to the window again. Pete wasn't going to last much longer, and if it was up to her, well then, it was up to her. If there was anything at all she could do to end this... #I'm doin' this for Nate,# she sent back. #He'd do the same for me, if it was the other way 'round.# There was a brief flicker of blue around her as she cast the shielding spell, knowing it would stop Nathan from grabbing her telekinetically if he actually sensed her under the Professor's cloak, and then she stood, taking a deep breath to stop the shaking. #Here goes. Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast,# she sent back with a flash of humour, and then stepped outside.
Charles managed the briefest telepathic flicker of a wry smile in Amanda's direction before maintaining the cloak demanded the lion's share of his attention. It did not help in the slightest that the panic of the crowd and the back-and-forth surges of the fight were turning the local portion of the astral into a murky, roiling soup. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he guided the psychic ebb and flow around Amanda, all the while projecting the illusion that only empty space existed where she was.
Pete's final burst of hot knives, and the accompanying psychic surges from both men, nearly caused him to lose the cloak; he held on with his fingertips, teeth gritted. *Damn me for an old fool, I should have acted sooner--* Thought translated into telepathic sending. #Amanda, it must be now.#
#Almost there...# she replied, concentrating on not getting skewered by stray hotknives as she snuck up on Nathan. A few glanced off her shielding, and she spared a moment to glance at Pete. The Professor was right, this had to end now, before one of them went too far, if they hadn't already. Nathan dropped to her knees, and she saw the opening - she shoved the sleep spell at him with all her power, the new amulet glowing brilliantly blue. 'Stay the hell down, Nate, please,' she thought desperately, offering up a prayer to whatever handy pagan god might be listening.
The big man wavered, then dropped forward like a puppet with its strings cut, which, in a way, he was. Amanda stood over him, shaking with the effort and delayed reaction as adrenaline raced through her system. She'd done it. She'd really done it. #He's out, Prof,# she sent, before the tears started pouring down her face.
