jean grey

“Oh yeah, but it wasn’t history so I don’t think it’s really gonna help you.” Steve says with a laugh, hoping to easily deflect that question. It’s not like it’s a big secret he’s a bit of an amateur artist, but he doesn’t really want to get roped into art classes or something like that. “They can ask but I never sang the song, I’m afraid I’d just disappoint them with some really off-key singing.” He can’t help but wince at the memory of the videos, shaking his head. What possessed him to record those, he’s still not sure. “I thought schools weren’t gonna use those anymore.”

   frazzled, always frazzled these days, peter scrubs a hand through sweat-stiff hair like that’s going to help with the mess his mask made of it today.  definitely not going to shake free all the plaster that ended up in it, his hair after the last spider-man jaunt. he’s late, because peter is always late.  he glances at his watch, the half-busted face is taunting him.  seventeen minutes.  that’s pretty close to jack-ass levels of late.  whoops.  again.  he skids to a halt, finally, when he reaches his destination.  “ i am so sorry i’m late.  you’ve still got time, right ?? ”

Jean’s social circle was mostly made up of heroes, and heroes were not the most punctual company, so she made sure to cushion her appointments accordingly. “You’re fine, my next class starts at five. Sit down,” Jean says simply, pushing a still-steaming latte across the table towards Peter. “Your face looks more misshapen than usual. Rough night?”

When Diana made the choice to leave for man’s world, ultimately leaving her home behind, she vowed to fight for what the Amazon’s had always stood for. Her mother did it, her Aunt did it, and every Amazon before her did it. They fought for those who could not fight for themselves - and the mutants, albeit able to defend themselves, were no exception in Diana’s eyes. When Jean approached her about meeting some of Xavier’s brightest (which in some cases, was quite a literal term) students, she couldn’t see any reason to refuse. 

She answered every question thrown at her, told tales of the Gods from which she came, and even taught a few Amazonian combat maneuvers to those who wished to learn to fight like her. Diana had always adored children, that was no secret. She hadn’t gotten the chance to see one until she came to Man’s world, being that she was the only child on Themyscira since they were sealed away from the rest of the world. Diana always enjoyed their ability to be so open and loving, and their boundless curiosities. Had the Justice League not been formed, perhaps Diana could see herself in a similar position as Jean - teaching the young minds who were going to shape the world for generations to come. 

There’s a few saddened expressions that form when Jean mentions dinner time was approaching, to which Diana forms a pout of her own. “No worries, if Ms. Grey will have me, I would love to sit in on some classes in the future. I believe there is a lot I can learn from such a talented and passionate bunch.” 

Diana’s words send a ripple of excitement through the small congregation, and even as they start to disperse, many of them shoot hopeful, questioning looks back in Jean’s direction. “Of course,” Jean says, mouth curving in a small smile. “Just a matter of making sure our schedules line up.” Jean herself would be very interested in watching Diana kick Kurt’s ass in a sword fight. “But there will be no classes to drop in on if we don’t all get dinner and a little rest, so ándale, ándale.”

After ensuring even the stragglers were heading inside to wash up, Jean falls easily into step with Diana. “I kept your coat and other things in my office -- didn’t really trust the kids not to go through them. They’re sweet but, you know, a lot of them are still working on developing a sense of interpersonal boundaries.” It didn’t help that the institute often felt more like a home than a school, and the occupants more like a family than mere classmates. Still, Diana hadn’t seemed to mind the familiarity, her face kind and open even in the face of a dozen pushy questions. 

“I really can’t thank you enough for coming out here today,” Jean folds her arms over her stomach, tugging her sweater a little closer to her body to stave off the evening chill. “If there’s -- anything I can do to pay it back to you in some way, please let me know.”

closed starter for @jean-rising !

“Almost reminds me of the good old days.” Steve offers with a soft chuckle as he heads into the classroom, careful to stay out of the way of students trying to make their escape from Jean’s class. He’d arrived just in time to catch the tail end of it, enough to see that she was clearly engaging her students more than enough. “Except your classroom is way nicer than mine was when I was a kid. And all your students could see over their desks.” Okay, so self-depreciating humour probably isn’t necessary. And Jean will likely be able to see right thought it, but - he can give it a shot. “If you ever need help with your next history class I’d be happy to pitch in?”

@jean-rising

kon whistles an impressed note while he looks up at the vast institute, crossing his arms over his chest and getting a good look.  it’s a whole world here that he doesn’t quite understand, but he finds himself drawn to it.  good company here, too.  he flashes a charming smile – “ hi, miss grey !! ”  he drops his voice and clears his throat.  “ is magneto here ?? ” he whispers.  he’s got to admit, part of him wants to meet the guy, terrifying though he might seem on the news.  kon’s even taken out all of his most precarious piercings to make sure he doesn’t start losing blood due to angry magnet-people.  “ oh !!  or the dude with wings ?? ” 

Jean couldn’t quite believe the sight in front of her: Wonder Woman, on the front lawn of the school, with two squealing blue children hanging off her biceps. Others ran circles around her feet, played with her hair, poked around her shield. Even some of the older kids, who often pretended they were too cool for these sorts of visits, had come out to watch and sneak in a question between games of hide and seek. 

And Diana herself had been perfect; she hadn’t batted an eye and Lara’s five-foot tail or the way Kiko sometimes spontaneously turned invisible in the middle of a conversation. Jean supposed literal demigods had seen such things before, but it still surprised her when other heroes actually went out of their way to connect with mutants. There were a good many who considered such an endorsement a touch too ‘political’. 

Yeah, she was the coolest teacher ever for making this happen. It wasn’t a competition except for when she was winning, then it totally was and take that, Warren. 

"Okay, guys,” Jean called out, sparing a cursory glance at the face of her watch. She breached the small gathering of children crowded around Diana, flashing her a slightly apologetic smile. They had taken up much more of her time than Jean had initially requested. “Think it’s probably time to say goodbye to your new friend and to wash up for dinner. Hank’s making Chili and he’ll be pretty heartbroken if none of us show up.”

For the past few years, Nathan has adhered to a strict no-contact policy with most of the X-Men– specifically, Scott Summers and Jean Grey, known to him as Slym and Redd Dayspring… Some 2000 years from now. It was complicated. He had allowed himself, sometimes, to think how that conversation would go. “I’m your son. It’s me. It’s Christopher.” But it was easier – and better, he tells himself, for the timeline- if he just stayed away.

And it’s gone well, until today.

Trouble just had a way of finding him. He heading back to his safehouse, minding his own business, when the sound of screeching tires and blaring horns caught his attention. A traffic jam quickly formed. It didn’t take him long to find out why– a tree had sprung forth from the concrete in the middle of the road. People are leaving their cars, leaving the sidewalk, to gawk. He can feel the prickling of unrest beginning to form. He doesn’t think. He just acts, using his telepathy to quell the rising tensions, a soothing balm on the minds of the gathering crowd.

It’s a strain.

His relief when the “cavalry” arrives is short-lived. That corona of fiery red hair? He’d recognize it anywhere. It’s Jean. There’s an ache somewhere in the pit of his stomach when he sees her, the kind of longing that only a child can have for their mother. He stays longer than he should. Watching. Committing her to memory before he tries to slip back into the crowd and make his escape.

But she follows him.

Oath. His lips press together into a thin line when Jean catches up to him, displeased not at her but at himself.

“Hey.” Nathan replies shortly, turning and staring down at her hand before tentatively taking it. His techno-organic hand whirrs softly as he wraps his gloved fingers around hers,  eye glowing softly as he mentally erects barriers around his mind. He laments losing his telepathy blocker in Transia the week prior. “Call me Cable… Didn’t want the situation to escalate before the X-Men or somebody got there.”

“Nice to meet you, Cable.” He seems standoffish, but that isn’t exactly an irregular trait in mutants, especially those around his age. When Jean was younger she spent several years feeling like the stares and the gestures and the comments could all be chalked up to something wrong with her. It was only when she grew up all the way, found her tribe, so to speak, that she realized it was the rest of the world that required changing. 

“Yeah, it was definitely necessary,” Jean nods, mouth pursed in a tight smile. She’s had more than a few distrustful looks thrown her way since arriving, and while that stuff rolls off her back, she’s acutely aware of how difficult it can be for the mutant who caused the ‘disturbance’ in the first place. “It doesn’t take a lot for situations like that to go way south. It’s nice for the kid, too -- just to see someone other than us is on their side. So, thank you, again.”

The longer Jean looks at Cable, the stranger she feels. He’s familiar, but not in any concrete way, almost as if she recognizes him from a dream. Telepathy isn’t a toy or a cheat or an easy way out -- a lesson Charles has taught her a thousand and one times -- but Jean still finds herself barely resisting the temptation to peek into this stranger’s head. “I’m sorry, have you been in town for very long? I can’t quite shake the feeling that we’ve met before.” 

The events of the afternoon had unfolded remarkably quickly. They’d received a distress call from inside the city, headed downtown in search of the new mutant, and, suddenly, there had been a rapidly growing tree in the middle of the road -- thick, twisting roots breaking through concrete, a burst of green leaves picked up by the city wind. It had taken Jean’s hands on the young girl’s shoulders and a steady voice in her head for the branches to stop proliferating. Trinary, who had accompanied Jean into the city as backup, was taking the young mutant back to the Institute. Jean would likely be spending the rest of the afternoon downtown, attempting to manage the unfortunate optics of the incident. She thought the tree was beautiful. The mayor would likely have a different opinion.

Before she made her way down to this city block’s precinct, she caught up with the unexpected second assist she’d had through the incident. It was increasingly rare for a civilian to cooperate with the X-Men, even those who bore their own mutation. Jean more than appreciated the backup. 

Jean pushed the parlor door open with her shoulder, cradling a pink pastry box in one hand and holding a coffee cup in the other. “Hey, sorry, I’m here,” she greeted, offering Laura a small smile. “I was working on a lesson plan in the library and I lost track of time. Silly.” Jean crossed the quiet room at a brusque pace, the only sound the soft thump of her heels on the carpet. This particular parlor was empty that time of day -- the rest of the students either in class, out by the lawn, or up in their rooms. In fact, this wing of the mansion wouldn’t be occupied for at least the next couple of hours. It was precisely why Jean suggested they meet there; in a matter like this, Laura deserved as much privacy as they could get her.

“I come bearing snacks,” she said, setting her coffee and the pastry box onto the table between them. She flipped up the lid with a soft smile. “Xocolati cupcakes. The lady at the bakery said they were the perfect combination of sweet and spicy.” Jean settled into the seat opposite from Laura, slipping out of her pinch-y shoes and smoothing her palm over a run in her pantyhose. “We don’t have to do anything today,” she said, in a voice she hoped was reassuring. “We can just talk, maybe ease into the head stuff. This kind of thing always takes a while to untangle, and I don’t want to rush it.”

hey, have you noticed [ PHOENIX ] around lately? rumor is they’re from [ NEW YORK ] out of costume, i think they go by [ JEAN GREY ] !! their [ EMPATHY, TELEPATHY, & TELEKINESIS ] make them a perfect fit for [ THE X-MEN ].