one for the birds

I suppose it depends on how you feel about horses. This comic is, as is usual for Wednesday’s comics, chosen by my Patrons. Speaking of…

There isn’t much she can do but be blunt and to the point now. It was hardly her style to sugarcoat things for the sake of feelings and emotions. They’re an oddity even for mutants, a curious specimen that’s bound to draw more attention. And she wanted the first crack. But they’re more than that, they’re five young women growing up in a world that despised people like them. It’s too soon for her to be offering help, to be offering them her knowledge. They don’t know her and beyond their file, she doesn’t know them.

“Forgive me for being to forward, but I normally decide if someone is in need of…added help. help the school can’t quite help with in terms of classes and such.” She clarifies, “This is simply a social visit— Think of it simply as me trying to know the other mutants on campus until otherwise state.”

She watches with rapt attention as they interact nonverbal, she can only assume telepathically. It’s remarkable

“Well consider that a bless and a curse,” she finds herself mumbling under her breath. How many times would the holy grail that was Xavier’s proper students and teen fighting team pave the way for what was considered ‘proper’ mutant education and life and what simply wasn’t up to snuff? had it been years earlier, had it all just gone as she had hoped, no dreamed, the X-men wouldn’t have been the only righteous path… She shakes her head coming back to the conversation.

“And who is it you wish to become?”

She smiled, “There’s only so much in your files, and I like to think that people are more complicated then a few flimsy pieces of paper can truly sum up.”

“We have been acclimating to the school just fine, Miss Frost, and there have been no incidents,” the sisters reply without missing a beat.

Truth be told, they don’t know if they’re acclimating well at all. It’s not as though they have any comparable experiences to judge this against. This whole school seems to be a collection of half-broken people trying to hold things together, even the people that enrolled voluntarily. They just seem a bit more respectable from a safe distance. Two sisters on the far left exchange glances, and Celeste nods slightly before they both turn their attention back to the woman on the other side of the desk. They haven’t caused any incidents since they arrived, despite their proximity to some of the unrelated issues this campus acts as a magnet for. 

In other words, this is still a fishing expedition. She thinks they’re up to something, or that they might get up to something in the future, and she’s casting a line to see if they trip themselves up trying too hard to refute her.

“If we already knew just what we wanted to be, wouldn’t we already be most of the way there?” Esme asks. “Or perhaps I’ve misunderstood the intent of higher education.”

Sophie leans slightly in her seat. “Our lives have been brief enough that you might sum it up in a file. I’m sure they made their best effort with the facts at their disposal, though we made no great effort to help them in that. They were rather...cross.”

“you always were the ugliest cuckoo.”

The unison is…unnerving, but not unexpected. These five leaned upon each other in life, of course, they acted as one. But that didn’t stop the feeling in her gut.

As they file in, sitting prim and proper, she notes the difference between them. Minuet and highly unnoticeable expect when one looks for it. The way it’s all so uniform, similar down to the way they sit. Her lip twitches as she watches them no doubt thinking they’ve upset the delicate balance here on campus. Villains. The term rolls around in her head leaving an aftertaste in her mouth. What had they done to be deemed with such a vulgar word?

“I’m well, thank you for asking.” She responded politely as much as the question is asked. 

“–and I appreciate the eager cooperation, that’ll certainly make things a bit easier. This is simply a conversation, for now, unless I feel the need to make it more. Simply put I’m curious, as I’m sure you know and can feel.” She was doing nothing to hide her mind stalking around theirs, feeling the ties from all angles but not yet diving in. “Five identical telepaths, it’s quite the astonishing blip in our community.” There was no sense in hiding her avid fascination over it. 

Irma nods, and doesn’t press the matter further. No one’s entirely all right after the disruption, she suspects, but she doesn’t want to put Emma on the spot over it. They don’t know each other well enough for sharing secrets. What’s already in their file doesn’t count as trust, it’s an assessment from a faceless institution that’s been written and repeated without their input.

“The need to make it more?” Celeste echoes with a pronounced frown.

That’s not a good sign. Sophie’s urging her to be cautious, they can’t tip their hands so readily, but Celeste can’t help the knot of tension that’s settled in her stomach.

“We wouldn’t know, we’ve never had so much...involvement with the general mutant community, never joined those X-Men or the like,” Sophie replies. “And we hardly chose to be what we are.”

“No what chooses what they are, only who they become,” says Esme.

She’d requested the file before the bunker fiasco. Had demanded someone bring it to her while she was poked and prodded. Now that she was back in her office, bruise still fading on her hand from the incompetent nurse and the stupid IV, she had more time to study. Quintuplets. Telepaths. It was curious and yet astounding all in one. She’d cleared the afternoon of students who ‘needed a place to talk’ after the bunker to make room for this. 

There was little doubt in her mind that they would be capable. Strong too. But she wanted to know more. At least have a conversation with them. So she’d sent them an email requesting a meeting. Nothing with mental alarm bells but what could she say she was feeling nosy.

With her door open, Emma flipped through the file, again, noting things. A small bite of information for her to chew on as they talked. She didn’t look up at the door, the mental presence alone was staggering. “You’ll have to forgive me for the cramped space and…uncomfortable chairs. The clerk at the desk wasn’t too keen on helping me.” She closed the file to glance at the five of them, undoubtedly identical and yet each clearly different. Wonderful. “If you will,” her hand gestured to the plastic chairs stolen from a classroom down the hall.

@amindhive

“Thank you, Miss Frost,” the sisters reply in unison.

The quintet of blondes has had to walk in single file, with Celeste leading the way, but that doesn’t interrupt their eerie chorus. It’s so ingrained into their collective function that it doesn’t require conscious effort. They arrange themselves into the available plastic chairs with the same harmony, no apparent discussion or competition over particular seats.

Phoebe’s glancing every which way as they file in, trying to memorize every element of the room. She’s quite glad to be out of that confined bunker, but being summoned somewhere for a meeting doesn’t bode well. Or at least it never has in the past. They haven’t done anything untoward since arriving here, even when trapped in a confined space with strangers for an extended period of time. And she is not a great fan of being trapped in confined spaces full stop. Esme’s been hiding some books but that’s hardly a capital offense. Sophie cautions against excessive speculation; they can’t read the woman behind the desk but they can’t lose their heads.

“Are you all right?” Irma asks, one seat left of the center.