Owner	Pose
Charles Xavier	The children were playing. After so long away, it warmed Charles's heart, to see some children whose mutation gave them very physically noticeable mutants playing with children with less notable mutation, such as elemental manipulation. It was proof that they could all coexist regardless of differences, fears, or stereotypes. Even children can be cruel, for they know no better. But to see even cruelty kept at bay by the most precious of all, it's inspiring even to one who has fought for human and mutant rights for as long as Charles Xavier. The older gentleman attires himself impeccably: From his double-breasted jacket to his slacks, black silk pinstriped with dark grey has obviously been tailored to his figure. Gold cufflinks and meticulously polished dress shoes add a further touch of class to his ensemble. A black silk tie is cinched about his neck, decorated with dinosaurs - a gift from one of the younger students that Charles gladly wears in honor of them. He sits in his wheelchair, his posture allowing him to sit up straight for long periods of time. A flannel blanket lies across his legs to be comfortable, his chair sitting still as he looks ahead at the children, a little chuckle at one of the children using their teleportation abilities to play tag better. This is what paradise can look like, if they all work together.
Psylocke	A little more than two years ago -- shortly after talk began between various senior X-Men of starting up the X-Force -- one Betsy Braddock disappeared. To everyone else, it was done without warning, without explanation. Charles, being Charles, got more -- perhaps because Betsy suspected Charles might hunt her down otherwise; perhaps because he was the only one that could, with Cerebro. <<I have to go. I'll explain when I know more. Don't come looking for me.>> Her mental voice, almost exclusively warm and surprisingly open, in that moment leaked an edge of panic and fear that was unusual for the normally capable, confident psychic. And so Betsy vanished. There were reports of a purple-haired woman here and there; most coming from Scott, who monitored for this and various other things. Some through others of Charles' sources. Peru. Madripoor. Japan. The last in particular a worry for being a place the woman absolutely should not be; the heart of the Hand. Six months ago, though, she returned, resuming her duties at the school, her work with the X-Men -- and like she never left -- founding the secretive X-Force and recruiting specific, and perhaps unsettling -- members to fill it out. Things have changed though, in subtle ways. She hasn't reclaimed a room in the mansion, and though she appears to remain close to Angel, it's clear she's keeping him at a distance. She has no room for such things, right now. Betsy's always carefully shielded herself, psychically. Even to Charles she's silent unless she lets him in -- and he's one of the few she has done so with, on occasion. But by her nature, she enjoys her privacy, which is ironic given how readily and willingly she invades others. As always, the elegant woman is dressed fashionably, a long brown skirt swaying around the matching boots; a white blouse and a long purple jacket to guard against the weather. Her hand touches Charles' shoulder as she appears there silently, the touch gentle -- but with a true affection, too. "It's always nice to watch them so happy. You did this, Charles." The Dream. His Dream. And one Betsy wholly subscribes to.
Charles Xavier	The more things change, the more things stay the same. Psylocke has always been something of an anomaly. There one moment, gone the next. When it was time for her to vanish? Course Charles kept his tabs on her, though thankfully with his sources rather than use the considerable might of Cerebro. Betsy was one of the individuals that Charles could trust, her name in the same breath as Logan, Scott, and Jean. She always fought for the good of all mutantkind, even when some of the darker aspects of her life would come calling. But she had returned again, to the home who will always open it's door to her so long as Charles Xavier is alive. Charles either didn't sense her with his telepathy, or he took notice of her presence and said nothing. As nearly always, Charles keeps such things to himself. The touch to his shoulder causes the gentleman to turn his head so his eyes might rest on the one who calls herself Psylocke. Despite how long Charles had been away, he looks at her like no time had passed at all. "Hello, Elizabeth." Charles often preferred to call people by their true names rather than nicknames, but at least he lets Logan call him 'Chuck' despite it's informality. He looks back at the children, who rest safe from the horrors of the world's prejudice in this place. This place, that many thought such an existence would be impossible. Thankfully, Charles doesn't believe in the term. "I had help." Charles says, his tone soft and warm. "And help I will continue to need. The world is changing, but I fear much work is left to be done." but let such work be in the future, for today has it's troubles and tomorrow even moreso. "How have you been? I would hear of the stories of your travels. It's been too long. Though it appears you grow younger and I ever older." He chuckles, good-natured and humorous.
Psylocke	Betsy's violet eyes meet his. There's that smile -- warm and open and genuine -- that is the true essence of Betsy Braddock. So often on display around the children, and hauntingly absent during the darker moments of her life. Charles is the only one who calls her Elizabeth; possibly the only one she /allows/ calling her that. "I'm glad you're back." Her eyes turn towards the children. She always did have a soft spot for them. "These are the moments I'll cherish. The moments that make it worthwhile. The moments I'll fight to keep." The hint of bite in the last is almost easy to ignore; impossible not to notice when you're a telepath though. "Yes. The world is changing." She sounds almost sad about that. Psylocke's dedication has never been in doubt. It might just be her recent associations with Doctor Nathaniel Essex and Lucifer Morningstar that have undoubtedly been doing the circuit of the rumor mill that might be cause for concern. "They are not pleasant stories. But I'll share them with you if you will it. It will ruin a lovely day, though," the warning comes lightly, but not without merit. Enjoying a moment like this? She really does mean it should be cherished; but at the same time, she willingly gives up her secrets. "You flatter. You look wholly unchanged, Charles," she assures, with all honesty. "You merely feel older as the students get younger."
Charles Xavier	"I'm glad to be back, Elizabeth." That Charles is the only one who calls Betsy by her full first name is not lost on him. Either he's the most liked of Betsy to allow such an honor or merely he's on a shortlist of people she respects to not try and murder him for it. Perhaps another reason. But, her warmth towards him was something Charles always appreciated. Even if others had rumors to tell of her, Charles refused to see the evil in people. That was his way. A way that lead to the creation of the Institute. A way that brought so many people from so many different walks of life compared to his own, all under the same roof. Blue eyes look back out towards the children, the origin of the dream. He smiles faintly. "Agreed. I'm only honored we have so many to help make this dream a reality. Any dream worth having is a dream worth fighting for." Unpleasant stories? Well, that will just have to do just fine. "There are no such things as unpleasant stories, Elizabeth. All stories invoke a manner of thought." He turns to look at her once again. "Which thoughts do yours provoke, if you believe they will ruin so beautiful a day?" Charles asks her pleasantly. "If you speak of the rumours and actualities of any association with a few...historically unsavorable personalities, I assure you will receive no judgment from me." Charles tells her. "Sometimes, we have to try new paths to reach where we must." "Now who is the flatterer?" Charles smirks. "Every day I believe I find one more wrinkle. But I'm told it will mean I will one day be an adorable old man."
Psylocke	"No, I speak of darker things, I'm afraid," Betsy answers, and there's a gentleness, a reluctance in the way she answers that suggests a disinclination. She really does seem to believe it will ruin things for him; but she's also never really been one to say no to him. And she wants something in turn from him. There is so much. Too much to share verbally; but her hand is still on his shoulder as she opens up her mind, brings down her shields, that same warmth spilling out, but new things too. She gives him everything, not just because he, to her mind, deserves the truth, but because she trusts him. She trusts him to tell her if she's wrong. If she's been wrong. It starts with a vision -- multiple visions, different angles of the same event. The one that most prominently features though is centered around the middle of New York -- Manhattan, to be exact. The skies overhead are dark, despite it being daytime -- unnatural clouds of boiling in the sky, a glimmer of something pulsing through. It feels like a breath almost, except as the vision lengthens it feels like they are breathing in something that makes them choke, something that turns their limbs into lead. All around them in the streets, shadows spill outwards. A couple eating outside at a cafe suddenly begin weeping and wailing, grabbing at each other, slapping and pulling with frenetic despair. A group of businessman walking out of an office building suddenly turn and begin trying to beat each other to death. Other pedestrians start screaming in terror, staring at nothing that can be seen, leaping out in front of traffic in what seems to be a deliberate act. While they stand there, frozen, a dozen more horrific such scenes play out, a frenzy of violence and fear. In time, everything goes silent, as if humanity itself has been extinguished. And in the wake of that silence, a presence is felt, pushing down from those impossibly dark clouds. It is a weight, a presence, impossibly alien and too much for one mind -- even a brilliant one -- to possibly comprehend. No matter how many variations, how many times it hits her, it ends the same way. The silence of all minds; the cloud pushing through into their reality. Then the vision ends, and Charles is given the memory of meeting a multitude of people. Magicians. Seers. Prophetics. Monks. Betsy, in her two years, finds people in the remote mountains of Nepal; she does a dangerous deal with someone in Madripoor that will no doubt come to haunt her some day; she infiltrates the Hand briefly, even, in search of a tome of prophecy. Everything she finds, everyone she talks to says the same. Visions are always open to intepretation, but to a fault, the interpretation of her specific vision is always the same. The end of the world is coming. And soon. Within a few years, then -- now within a year. The truth and acceptance of that hardens the woman, and turns her obsessive. Charles can feel it in her thoughts -- the warmth is still there, but it's now consumed by other more important matters. The visions haven't stopped and they merely increase her resolve. Immediately on her return to the X-Men she began recruiting for an X-Force intended for that one specific purpose: to try and prevent that outcome she's witnessed thousands of times, now. The end of the world. She recruits even those seen as adversaries to the X-Men. Anything she can do to prevent this is considered. The question he sees her asking of those joining is a variation on the same theme: "Are you prepared to die for this?" Because she believes that's the likely outcome. Two-and-a-half-years of memories pass through and to the Professor in a matter of seconds. Betsy's hand tightens on his shoulder as she sways a little, but her gaze is all for him. On edge. Afraid, a little -- of what he might say. Some part of her wants to be wrong. But a greater part... does not.
Charles Xavier	"What kind of dark things, Elizabeth?" It begged the question. What dark futures or fates did Betsy commit herself to? What evil has Betsy seen or associated herself with that she feared his response? Though her hand still rested on his shoulder, his mind - perhaps the most powerful mind on earth - notices that she's opening herself up to him. She wants him to see something, so they might not frighten the children with a verbal conversation. He enters into her mind. The vision enough to seize a normal telepath by the horrors that they see. But Charles simply closes his eyes for a moment to allow himself full focus. His breathing is calm, even as he watches shadows spill outward like a slow-moving poison. They watch the symptoms of disease. Of famine. Of war. Of people who once appear to be acting completely normal start to suddenly attack each other and then later themselves. It spreads. It spreads all across the world. In one fell swoop, taken by madness, despair, and self-conflict, the human race seems to just...expire. She shows him the various variations of what she's seen, what she's *felt*. Violence and fear frenzy across the world until all - humans, mutants, aliens, all life on earth seemingly wiped clean unti lthe earth is naught but a barren rock, devoid of life. The world was in danger. A flash of light and the image shifts from a breath of the future to a glimpse of the past as people from all walks of life meet in the mountains of Nepal, trying to debate and consider the coming threat. Elizabeth herself marches to Madripoor and makes a dangerous deal with devils and shadows to infiltrate the Hand and take a piece of their prophecy. A dangerous ordeal by itself - from what Charles has learned from great fighters and minds such as Matthew Murdock and Doctor Stephen Strange. The Hand was dangerous, known immortals who have been behind many of the world's catastrophe's to fuel their immortality and dark magics. But perhaps the most disturbing was the creation of X-Force. No doubt begun by some of the more violent members of the community who believe in the Dream, Charles seemed to understand the reasons why. Sometimes....people have to die. People have to end and cease to prevent the devastations that may occur in the future. The question echoes in Charles's mind with potential enough to shake the minds of all around him - but repressed: Are you prepared to die for this? Two and a half years of memories all flood through Charles's psyche - a not unknown feeling, the Professor often learns of people by seeing their entire life flash through his mind. Often times, he knows others better than thety know themselves. But alas, Betsy tightens her grip on his shoulder, the man's eyes opening and turning to rest blue eyes against her violet. Yet what she finds there is not malice, hatred, judgment, or disapproval. What she sees are the eyes of a kind man who understands Betsy has put herself through a great deal of hell to come back with this information. It's a look of affection, deep and overwhelming, warmth, and comfort. "Oh Elizabeth-" he begins. "I'm sorry you've had to face so much to come back with even greater. In this, I believe you've saved the world." Charles tells her. "While I am...disconcerted that it's ever necessary, I understand. You have my blessing...with only the wisdom I hope it brings to your hands." Charles tells her then, his hand lifting from his armrest to rest upon her hand. "You've done well, Elizabeth. With this information...we all have a fighting chance. Not just humanity...but mutantkind, alienkind, and even the celestials who find solace on this world we call home."
Psylocke	The look Betsy receives from Charles makes her throat close up, and it's really only by sheer force of will -- and stiff upper British upbringing -- that she manages to keep her own expression from spilling out. Even so, there's a sheen of brightness in her gaze, the gleam of unshed tears as the strength of emotion she sees and feels. You've saved the world. "No." Her voice is harsh, hard. "Not yet I haven't. But we will." Yet there's commitment in there; determination. She will, by any means. It's a ferocity, an obsession, that even Logan has noticed and been disturbed by. Yet the relief and gratitude that floods her at Charles' acceptance -- endorsement -- is genuine. There are a handful of mutants whose opinions carry the ultimate weight with Betsy, and it's a small group indeed. She has no room for self doubt. She is someone who has always given her everything to anything she sets her mind to, and this... this is her focus. The end, probably, a thing she has accepted, and in the acceptance, made peace with. "I have been working with Doctor Essex. He and Mr. Morningstar have been invaluable." She speaks of them such, yet there's a warmth there too. A friendship, even, and certainly a great respect. "This... being. It is tied somehow to a celestial event, a meteor that will pass by our solar system, but it is not always in phase with us, so it makes it hard to track. But we know it's soon. And the... the being." She stops a moment, and the walls go up: snap up, as her fingers ease from his shoulder. "I felt it speak through me. But my mind could not handle it. But the feeling it left me with was.. was unlike anything, Charles. You know I'm not one to feel afraid." And yet she did. Feel small, and feel afraid. Not of death. But it's really the only way a human can react to something that impossibly galatic, really.
Charles Xavier	Ah,that stiff upper lip. Plenty of Charles's fortune comes from England, surprisingly enough. Though his 3.5 billion dollar net worth is formally used to completely fund the X-Men and the school itself by proxy. But Betsy's tears don't escape Charles's notice, even if the gleam of her brilliance hides it oh-so-well. Charles has always been a patient and understanding man. He's not quick to judge, lest he himself be judged. He's one of the few good people on earth who still believe in something good. She tells him she hasn't saved the world. Charles disagrees, naturally, but he smiles at her. "That we will." Save the world. By any and all costs. She speaks then about Dr. Essex - a man whom Charles learned a great deal about genetics, perhaps enough to rival the man. Though disturbed by that knowledge, Charles seems to understand the reasons why she's cast her lot with him. "It's my understanding he's been coming by the school a great deal. I don't know if I trust the man, or even dare to call him a friend since his seeming change from the natural definitions of his name, /but/ he is a mind unlike many I have ever seen. His knowledge will be useful. As for Mr. Morningstar, well-" Charles seems to chuckle. "I ought to give you no misunderstanding that he's of a certain moral quality, per his namesake, but if he has your trust, then he shall I have mine as well." Charles says, believing in Betsy. Truly. There's no doubt in his body towards her. "But tell me more of this entity." And she does indeed, his eyes not quite hardening but seeming more focused in their gaze. "I do." know she's not one to be afraid of anything. "If this being is as you say....and if this will trigger a celestial event, then we must make every countermeasure possible to give us the best chance. Mystical, Scientific, Telekinetic, Telepathic."
Psylocke	There was a time when a young Betsy Braddock might've thought that trust misplaced. After she first came to the X-Men, to a degree, but absolutely when Logan first brought her back from the Hand, when her psyche hadn't yet fully merged between herself and Kwannon. The latter hasn't nearly as much of a care for the X-Men, and she seems to dislike Charles in particular, but that's largely because the ninja has a tendency towards privacy, whereas Betsy's given to sharing... with Charles, at least. One of the many little battles that constantly plagues the mind of the woman. "He has changed," Betsy says, of Essex. "In his own words, he now feels a responsibility for what he does. It makes him more... human." She uses that term carefully, deliberately. "He has been nothing but honest with me. But I'm aware he's a danger still. It's why I wanted Logan on board -- one of the many reasons. Logan does not trust so easily." Which in this case, Betsy considers an advantage. Team dynamics are hard. "He's also," she hesitates a moment. "Essex said there are other versions of him out there. They wouldn't have the same newfound understanding he does. So if you do meet him, be careful. He allowed me to place a token in his mind, so I could be sure it was him. Here--" she opens again, briefly; a sense of a butterfly, implanted in specific part of surface thoughts. Something Charles could now find, too. "As for Mr. Morningstar," there's a longer pause there. She's very, acutely aware of what and who he is, but there's a surprising amount of trust, too. "He's proved entirely restrained. And even assisted me a couple of times when I might've pushed too far." Which, well, it's Betsy. That's her default. "We don't know that much more about the entity, directly. Essex believes the meteor passed by Earth thousands of years ago, and when it did, it left parts behind... parts that a cult that worships the entity seem to have collected. But this is... thousands of years ago. We're trying to see if there's any modern linkages." And then Betsy falls silent, considering. "Whenever I try to think about what it was like when it... used me as a conduit, my mind slides away. We know it's some kind of... entity that exists outside of our time and space. Maybe that it's always existed? But in the visions, it's always the same. I'm not sure if it brings death, and destruction and despair, or those things help bring it forth. I think it's one of those chicken-and-egg things."
Charles Xavier	Charles has a knack for this, oddly enough. A knack for giving his trust to people, even if they didn't deserve it. Though Charles remains sitting upright, his eyes turn from Betsy to look at the children as she tells him that Sinister has changed. While Charles initially finds it hard to believe, he's forced to question himself as he still believes Erik Lensherr - Magneto - to be his best friend despite their drastically conflicting views on how to solve the mutant crisis. People can change. It takes time. It takes the efforts of an entire culture. But people can change. Every now and again, people can change their stripes. Even told thet man has changed makes Charles slowly let out a breath. "I see. If he's willing to help, then we will accept it. As for these other versions? That adds a layer of unpredictability. So long as we are carefully able to decipher that, which it looks like you have, then we still possess an advantage." The tactical mind of Xavier was working swiftly. "As for Morningstar. If he's proven restrained, then we can trust him for as long as he remains restrained." Charles of course, doesn't /love/ the idea of loose canons, even potentially. Despite this, Charles is tracking along nicely despite being out of sorts. "I understand. What do we know of the cult? If they have manuscripts or a text, we might be able to discern more."
Psylocke	Betsy herself has been the recipient of that trust. There's been times when she shouldn't have been trusted, and yet he did -- when others in the school whispered their thoughts about her, their doubts -- but Charles' trust remained unwavering. That inspires a kind of loyalty that lasts a lifetime. Charles definitely has that gift, and he's earned that trust from Betsy. "If nothing else, trust that Nathaniel Essex also does not wish to die. It's a very strong motivator." Betsy's laugh is genuine, even if it's touched by a little ruefulness, a little darkness. It's, perhaps, why her gaze goes to the children, to try and ease those ever-present dark thoughts, the pressing of that prescient vision. "Essex believed the cult to be Egyptian in nature. He wanted to reach out to an Egyptian goddess, but she left the city and we don't have any sort of contacts of that nature any more. If you think of something, or someone...?" Charles has always had the kind of reach, thanks to both his money and his ability to gain people's trust -- that many mutants envy. Softer: "You should talk to him yourself." Essex. "Ask him. You'll see what I mean." He can hear the smile in her voice even if she's not looking at him. Another brief touch of her fingers to his shoulder. "I need to head out for an appointment. I'm glad you're back, Charles." And she'll leave him there, in the presence of happiness, weighted down with the dire threat of their future.
Charles Xavier	"That is quite possibly the most I can offer to Mr. Essex. Or should I say Doctor Essex." Charles corrects himself. Though he often-times found Essex the point of his maximum frustration, he still is willing to offer the maximum respect for academic achievement. All the same, hearing that Essex believed the cult to be Egyptian in nature causes a fun thought to appear in Charles's mind. "I see...I might have people whom I can reach out to." He sighs. "They won't like it. But I have someone." He gives Betsy that hope. Though she asks him of him to speak to Essex himself. He can hear the smile in her voice, yes. But as she touches his shoulder and turns to leave, Charles seems to take a deep breath. "I'm glad to see you too, Elizabeth." He keeps his eyes on the children in that moment, weighted with the looming catastrophe. But now he knows. When Charles knows? He can become a force unlike anything the world has ever seen. They can do something about it now. Charles Xavier has entered the arena.