11696/Wisdom of the Phoenix

Wisdom of the Phoenix
Date of Scene:	30 June 2020
Location:	Jean's Office - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	And a large knot began to untangle....
Cast of Characters:	Phoenix, Nightingale

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Phoenix has posed:
It's well after dinner and most of the house has either retired to their rooms or recreational hotspots to wind down the day. Not Jean. Now's prime time to get some work done, though one could argue as to exactly how much attention she's paying. Music with a quick, strong beat is coming from her cracked open office door. Limitless, a song a few years old now sung by the unmistakable Bon Jovi.

Inside, Jean is at her desk bounce-swaying absently in time to the music as she type-type-types across her computer's keyboard. Looks like some emails, pretty standard fare considering how many correspondences the school must go through in a day. They must not be too important given Jean seems pretty relaxed as she mouthes the words or hums a few notes here or there.

Nightingale has posed:
     Though Shannon had tried to relax, the past couple days had seen her usually calm state of mind swing wildly from sharp fear and near-panic about three days past, to simmering rage the days after. Her presence in the kitchen had been minimal at best, and her training in the gym ramped up considerably. While the latter was healthy and bled off some frustration, it brought no answers that would restore calm and order.

     The first hint of the young healer's presence is the simmering surface thoughts, which would take very little to boil over. This is, mercifully, followed by the aroma of hot cocoa wafting through the partially open doorway of Jean's office. One snowy-feathered wing is held through the crack in the door like a white flag for parley. "Miss Grey? This isn't a bad moment, is it?"

Phoenix has posed:
Given what she'd spoken of prior, it's likely Jean has noticed. But if she did, she's given Shannon the space to decide if she wanted to speak of it or no. So when she feels Shannon's approach, she taps a few keys to turn down the music and looks up towards the door.

"Good evening! Come on in, have a seat. I'm just catching up on some emails I've been slow to get to. Let me just get this last one sent and I'll be with you." She doesn't need much longer on her email, tapping out a few more quick lines before sticking in an automated signature and sending it off with a whoosh.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon slips through the door and nudges it shut with one be-slippered foot behind her. Yes, those goofy, floofy sheepdog slippers. However, she's favored some pink silk pajamas this evening, with long pants and an elbow-length sleeved, button-down top of a delicate rosy hue. In her hands is an antique decoupage tray with two fairly large mugs bearing their steaming, chocolatey brew, and a veritable cloud of whipped cream on top for good measure. Sliding the tray onto miss Grey's desk, she settles down in the chair across from her. "Thanks. It's... just something I'm not sure how to handle."

Phoenix has posed:
"Oh those are cute!" Jean says, for a moment lapsing out of School Mom mode and into a normal young woman spotting a nice pair of pajamas. "...one of these days I'll stop sleeping in hijacked shirts and yoga pants, but today is not that day." But right, there's important things afoot and its not involving sleepwear.

"Well, I'll certainly help out however I can. That's why we're all here, to be each other's shoulders and sounding boards. So tell me, what's been on your mind?"

Nightingale has posed:
     "The trick is how much to say, without betraying a confidence." Shannon nudged one of the cups of cocoa over to miss Grey, plucking hers from the tray and taking a sip. Her brows furrow in thought for a few moments, as she lets the warmth from the cup seep through her palms, as if somehow it could calm the anger simmering within. "I'm guessing you've probably seen your fair share of kids who have come in here with pretty rough stories to tell. And I'm willing to bet there's been times you've been so ticked off about it that you could easily go full-on Phoenix without a second thought. Wishing you could go back in time and erase those awful things that happened to someone else, so they wouldn't have to suffer."

     Despite the seriousness of the subject, there is a tell-tale, somewhat comical whipped cream moustache on the younger woman's upper lip, making her seem somehow even younger than she actually is. "But that's not possible, and it rips you up inside to know there's not a hell of a lot you can do. How can you deal with that?"

Phoenix has posed:
Jean Grey collects up the offered mug and sips on it slowly while she listens to what Shannon says, her expressions looking calm until her less centered aspect is brought up. Her lips press together and her hands tighten around the mug as a few fingers steeple above it. The mug is left cradled underneath the makeshift canopy, trapping the stream so it can build and unfurl in front of her face.

"That's probably the hardest lesson of all. No matter how powerful you are, no matter what you try to do, and even no matter how many other 'what ifs' you come to meet face to face, you eventually come to learn you can only do what is in your power to do. If you could go back and change even one thing, how many other changes would that make? The old Butterfly Effect. All you can do it take the cards you're given and make the best castle of it that you can."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Or, 'It's A Wonderful Life'. The classic version with Jimmy Stewart." Despite having witnessed that less balanced aspect in the Danger Room a couple weeks prior, the winged teen is anything /but/ afraid of miss Grey. If anything, it seems to be the exact opposite. "And it's a lesson I'd better learn now, if I plan to stay on." Closing her eyes, Shannon lets the mug shift in her hands, so that her palms form something of a funnel around the rim, directing a column of faint, sweet steam drifting upwards towards her face. From the corners of tightly-shut eyes, crystalline droplets trickle down her cheeks.

     "When you see someone is so wounded inside, where does one even begin to make that castle of cards? When you think of the hurts they've suffered... how can you bleed off the anger, so even if nothing else you can at least be a friend to them, without losing your head over it?"

Phoenix has posed:
"You focus on the reason for the anger." Jean says as she takes another sip before setting down the mug so she can better look to Shannon past it. "Think of it like following the threads of a knot. The knot is this big, ugly mess of an emotion that just wants to clog up everything. You need to untie it. So you start following the thread to find the end, the place where it comes from."

She tucks a few stray threads of red hair behind her ear before reaching into one of the drawers next to her and pulling out a tissue to pass it over. "Take... what happened in the Danger Room. Yes I was furious Scott was hurt, but more I was afraid. That fear stems from... love." She says the word slowly. For all its one of the worst kept secrets, it's something they both do work to try and not let be a distraction. "I fear for him, and I would kill to protect him, because I love him. We don't feel emotions this strongly for meager reasons. It sounds like who you're speaking of comes from a place of true caring. *That* is what to focus on. You can't change the past so your anger has no purpose, but you can take that determination and help make their future better."

Nightingale has posed:
     "Come on, it's pretty blooming obvious you love him. And he's pretty lousy at hiding it in return." Shannon can't help cracking a smile at this, chortling to herself, even as she accepts the tissue and puts it to good use. HONK. It was a rare opportunity she had to rib the Headmistress--and she had been given the perfect opening. "I swear, next Valentine's Day, I'm gonna make sure you two have a home-cooked gourmet dinner in one of the cabins by the lake, and the two of you would be barred from returning till sunup, short of a dire emergency." Oh, yes. There was perhaps a new, long-term culinary challenge afoot!

     The next swig of cocoa has some of the whipped cream end up as a decoration on the tip of Shannon's nose. Her nose twitches. She sniffles. "Ahhh... CHOO!". Oh, dear. A whipped cream cloud becomes a flurry to be dodged in short order, to the tune of a sheepish look from the young woman. "It's hard not to care. See... I knew you would get it, figured you'd have a pretty good handle on it, precisely /because/ of what I saw during that session, and how many other times I've seen you reaching out and helping others besides that." It seemed there was quite a bit of food for thought.

     "And... was it /actually/ a typo that landed me in there? Because I don't remember seeing Mr. Summers make a fluke like that. He seems to do things with a purpose, on purpose, even if it doesn't seem like it on the surface."

Phoenix has posed:
"While I commend your enthusiasm," Jean says dryly but not without a glint of humor in her eye. "I'm fairly certain having a student trying to set him up with romantic overnight plans might result in the opposite then intended effect. I promise though I do try and get him to relax once in awhile."

The sneeze provides an excellent distraction at that point, and the slightly soggy tissue is swooped up into the air in front of Shannon's mouth in a nimus of rose light. "The curse of empathy. People think it's be swell to know what everyone is feeling, until you know what they are. Worse yet, not being able to silence it, or be able to discern your own feelings from those around you. I've had... many years of experience untying knots."

"And I honestly don't know, regarding the Danger Room. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn't. He didn't send you out, though. You fit in just fine. You've had more experience than many of the students here and you handled yourself well. Reasons aside, you *being* there was not a mistake."

She glances to the clock on her computer then and gives a brief grimace. "Speaking of relaxing, I should shut this machine off at some point today and go do that."

Nightingale has posed:
     Smiling a little sheepishly, Shannon nods. "Okay, gotcha. Hey. Can't blame me for wanting to see you two happy." The impromptu, rose-glow veil of soggy tissue prompts an actual giggle from the girl, and she pokes at it lightly. "Never ceases to amaze me, the range of gifts here, and the wonderful people. Cap had the right of it there."

     Yes, relaxing was a good idea. At least some of the knot she herself had been dealing with had begun to untangle. Talking it out made her realize perhaps she cared a bit more than she thought, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing in the end. "Clipped a little chamomile and mint this afternoon from the garden for some tea. I've still got some left if you want some for sleep?"

Phoenix has posed:
"I'm a firm believer that mutants weren't meant to be alone." Jean says as the tissue is lowered into the waiting garbage can. "Our powers are meant to work together and to compliment one another. Maybe some day we'll be free to live like we should."

She saves the rest of her work and then shuts down the computer, taking the next bit of time to finish off the hot chocolate. "For once I'm fairly tired, but thank you. Hopefully you can start working through what's on your mind, but I'm here to talk more if you need. I tell myself many times not to be ashamed or afraid of my emotions. They're there for a reason. The trick is understanding why."

Nightingale has posed:
     Belatedly, it hit Shannon what had been said about the latest training session. Her cheeks go rather rosy, and there's no small amount of pride welling up within her--a thing she rarely allows herself to feel. Maybe those experiences could actually be put to good use one day, and maybe the dream that had built this place could come to pass.

     As for emotions? There's a nod of understanding, and a light smile, as she reaches for the empty mug, to be put back on the tray and carried out with its twin. "Know what you mean. I had to learn not to bottle them up. Took my bestie almost having to knock some sense into me to ask for help. I've learned to not be so ashamed of that, either. Asking for help, that is."

     Picking up the tray, the young woman stands, and turns towards the door. But she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder and smiling. "Because you're right. None of us mutants are meant to be alone. And at least here, none of us are."