#stumblinghope

     ❝ Charles…❞

She’s sprawled on the floor half covered in paint, smudges of colour worn like war paint upon either cheek as she gnaws upon the end of a paintbrush in await of an answer. Instead of burying her head in the sand, wrapped up in the safety of distance, for once Magda is taking a more active approach to political protest. Granted, some of her signs might well be a little worse for wear, but she’s trying in her own way to speak out against a war she doesn’t agree with. The pen after all, is supposed to be mightier than the sword!

When Stiles first heard of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, he laughed. A sneer that twisted the line of his lips, and a breath like mocking disbelief in his lungs. An easy target, he thought. Practically a neon sign, aiming all mutant haters at their doors.

But curiosity got the best of him, eventually. As it always did. And when he finally sat in front of the world famous Charles Xavier, well——

It wasn’t what he expected.

The man could see him, that much was evident in the wariness in his eyes. But Stiles had expected to be seen.

What he hadn't expected was the heavy cloak of misery that the man carried on his shoulders. A silent scream behind every kind smile and understanding word that painted all his enticing and saccharine promises of a safe place—a home— with the stench of dishonesty.

It was mouthwatering.

But then, when the professor promised no one would get hurt, Stiles challenged that lie, and something in Xavier's kind demeanor changed. Before he knew what had happened, Stiles found himself frozen in place. That insatiable hunger became an afterthought, and the boy that he was stared at Xavier with something akin to wonder.

‘Quid pro quo, of course.’ Said the Void inside his mind, certain that Xavier would hear.

“I can take the pain away, if only for a little while.”

And oh, but how the tables turn. There was a different sort of hunger in the good professor’s eyes, then. ‘An addict’ He thought, ‘How quaint.’ But when Xavier beckoned him out of that meeting room, Stiles followed without a word, a snarl hiding behind a veneer of quiet amusement, unseen by the children running by with cheerful greetings for their beloved professor.

The Great Charles Xavier, who with all his strength and all his power, allowed a young mutant feed on everything he felt. Let Stiles drain away the ugly ichor of his bitterness and anger. Choked gasps, and lips parted around a breathless moan as years of sadness and anguish were drawn from his skin to seep into Stiles’ veins.

Until the boy pulled away. And then all that pain, and all that sorrow cut back into Xavier’s mangled heart like a serrated blade.

Now Void skips just out of the professor’s reach with a laugh, and watches the symbol of this hopeful school dissolve into tears. 

…his hair is very pretty in that picture

…what about your daddy?