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Although she's still been seeing to her duties, Crystal has been…markedly absent lately. And there was that afternoon she came back with dirt stains on her skirts and rubble in her hair. Which she hasn't really spoken about. Today, though, she seems to be in good enough form. In fact, she's standing outside the rear of the Institute…washing the windows?
There's water, at least, though it doesn't seem to be coming from anything other than the young woman, spraying over the windows to wash away the grime.
*
Magneto has partially disconnected.
*
At this hour of the afternoon, Erik would have preferred tea. Unfortunately, the mansion's supply of silverware has been tampered with, to say the least. As such, the tall man emerges onto the rear veranda with a similarly tall glass of orange juice.
The rear grounds are an absolute mess. Erik looks upon it with a deep sigh, then sets the juice aside for a moment. He extends his hands, and there is a momentary expression of focus. Then, with a lift, approximately ten dozen forks, knives, spoons, and other utensils, along with pots and pans and lids and trays, begin rising out of the earth in various states of disrepair.
With a tug, the gathered items are ushered over to the veranda, where they fall at Erik's feet.
He looks down.
"Hmpf."
*
While Moira has been living mostly full time at the Mansion, she still has a small apartment in the city and has been spending a few days there preparing for the start of the university school year. Columbia hasn't banned her program yet or fired her, so she's carrying on as if Mutants weren't the biggest controversy of the year. It includes a mess of protests every time she's on campus and her office having been egged twice, but she's managing through.
Still, she's quite happy to be returning to the more understanding, loving campus where she also teaches. She's in a pale blush dress printed with faint pink flowers, something that makes her look just a touch younger than she is but is also cool for the warm summer weather. She was about to say something when she limps through to the back deck, but the words die on her lips as she sees the rear grounds. Her eyes shoot wide, staring in numb shock across everything. "…What….what happened? Is anyone hurt? My god…"
*
"Sometimes I find it better not to ask." Crystal looks over at Moira from her window washing with a small, rueful smile. "The dangers of living at a school for people with…particular abilities."
The spray of water disappears, fading into the atmosphere with a rainbow shimmer as she turns to look to Erik as well. "Let me know when you've retrieved everything? I can't do much about the grass, but I can at least smooth the dirt over so it looks less like the trenches."
*
Erik looks up and over toward Moira, then past her to Crystal. The latter gets a smile, which is soon passed to Moira. "In this instance, I might agree with Crystalia. Besides… given the rumor mill operates like a well oiled turbine, you're likely to earn the full review soon enough."
With a long expression, he turns back to the wrecked yard. "Well, I think I've gotten everything," he tells Crystal. "At least, that which is safe to remove." He reaches out, and a particularly mangled spoon flips up to his palm like an electromagnet. He turns it over, smirking. "I suppose I could bend them back into shape…"
For his part, Erik is dressed casually, in a pair of light brown trousers and a white tank top.
*
"I understand the rumor mill is… voracious even on good days here. I also understand that there are some… Overwhelming moments as the various children in this school learn their limits. My concern is if anyone is hurt. I take it, from both of your casual dispositions, everyone managed out of this in one piece?" Moira asks with clear, heavy worry behind her pale eyes. Even still fairly young, only in her 30s, she very much was the motherly figure of this school and becoming more and more as the weeks go on with her settling into her place here.
She looks from both their faces, looking for any extra tension or concern, back towards the destroyed land of the rear grounds. She studies it with a scientist's gaze, trying to figure exactly what occured to cause such destruction. Where was the origin.
*
"If they were, the hospital has yet to call about the bill." It's not that Crystal doesn't worry. It's just that she has this perpetual optimism that everything will work out all right. Once Erik confirms that the silverware has been retrieved, she steps away from the mansion toward the lawn, holding out both hands.
There's a slight rumble that moves through the earth; no matter how carefully she does it, moving tons of earth isn't a silent task. But soon, the furrows in the dirt start to smooth, returning the lawn to…Well, if not its prior beauty, at least it's smooth.
*
Moira's concern is noted. Erik looks to her again, and his smirk fades. "Nothing life threatening," he tells her, blankly. "Though I imagine it may have been a… traumatic experience for some."
The man goes silent then, instead opting to watch Crystal work. Her absence had been noted, and felt; there are signs of worry on his face.
Given, Moira's scientific mind would tell her that what caused the disturbance seems entirely possible; as if a tectonic shift took place in that exact spot, deep underground, in the form of a spiral, or a funnel.
*
"It…almost looks like there was a deep underground shift here, in the earth… But it was quite focused. We were lucky it didn't dig deeper into the mansion's foundations." Moira murmurs softly, her scientist's eyes picking apart every little clue she can find, even if the scene is quickly soothed over by Crystal's work. She nods in approval to the gentle rumbles and the smoothing the woman seems to be doing. "…I guess that is one way to till a garden." The slightly older woman deadpans.
Then her concern flickers back to both of them, "Who all… was here? I'll try to speak with them, if any of them need it. Though, if either of you were present and it… it's bothering you… You know I'm here for you also?" Moira offers gently.
*
"The foundations are secure," Crystal murmurs after a moment of consideration. "When I was much younger, I helped to move-" You're not telling people at the mansion about the time you moved your entire secret city. "I have some experience working around structures," she says after a brief pause, looking over with a small smile. "I'm afraid I missed it, though. I've been otherwise occupied lately."
Pausing, she looks over to Eric with a faint frown. "No one involved in this was on fire, were they?" There must be some significance to that question.
*
"That is precisely what happened, Moira," Erik answers. "Prompted by a shifting of magnetic forces that influenced the subterranean, ferrous material."
He looks to Crystal, meeting her frown with raised eyebrows. "Yes… Logan, and the young man from an oriental nation. I'm afraid I didn't catch his name, but fortunately, both seem to world an impressive ability to heal, and heal quickly."
Significant, because it didn't involve a certain redhead being in flame.
*
As Erik offers what happened, and why it happened, she simply arches a brow in his direction and tilts her head slightly. Curious and concerned, yet she respects him enough not to push. Not now, at least, in front of others. She might if they are alone. She gives him a single, understanding nod and then looks back in Crystal's direction, her eyes narrowing a bit as she picks up the odd tone to her question.
"..Fire? How did… fire come into it all? Perhaps one of you, if you are willing, could give me the full run down of the situation in clear, adult terms instead of the panicked student rumor mill I am eventually going to hear?" Moira asks again, a touch more firmly.
*
Crystal's brows rise at Erik's answer. "That's…not who I was expecting to be on fire, but I'm certainly glad they're both all right," she replies. Between the water and the precision of moving the dirt back into place, she's had her exercise for the day, stepping aside to settle onto one of the benches nearby.
"Honestly, I haven't the slightest idea what happened here," she answers Moira, smile crooked. "As I said, I usually try not to ask. I've been dealing with other issues, though. There are…" Pausing, she scrubs a hand over her face as she considers how much is useful to share. "There are apparently some diplomatic tensions between parties that are not strictly of this earth at the moment, and not all parties are responsible about property damage. I was just hoping to make sure they weren't involved."
*
"It seems some kind of creature was awakened," Erik answers. He pauses, reaching for his orange juice. "It attacked two of them, Jean and Sam. Many of us tried to help, to fight it off, but it was… using us, somehow." Erik shakes his head. "I cannot be certain. I could feel it draining my manipulations. As if my changing of the magnetic fields was powering it."
He gestures toward the now-smoothed earth with his free hand. "So… I buried it." A pause. "Very deep underground."
He doesn't mention what a truly difficult feat that was, either, but it may explain his tired demeanor.
"Fire," Erik tells Moira, "because the creature was shooting fire. From its eyes."
Now, he turns his attention back to Crystal. Eyebrows rise, and he crosses the distance to offer her his glass of juice. "Diplomatic tensions?" he asks.
It explains her absence… and the rubble all over the bedroom floor.
*
A deeper look of concern crosses Moira's features — some nights it seemed that all she ever did was worry — as she takes in Crystal's comment about other issues and diplomatic tensions. She doesn't inquire further — it seems Erik is doing that for her — but she does make a mental note to offer the woman a place to speak that is quieter.
Then, she's quickly distracted from that concern as the full measure of the situation is given by Erik. That makes Moira blink, her eyes widening a touch more as she looks from Erik to the ground, back to Erik, "My god…we… we got lucky they weren't hurt more. It was buried? Is… is there risk of it coming back up, with think?"
*
Crystal takes the juice, taking a sip with a grateful smile before offering it back. "Mmmm. Yes. Muspelheim apparently has a bone to pick with Asgard's prince, who is currently on time-out here on Earth. They would very much appreciate it if someone here would deliver him to them, lest they take out their frustrations on whatever is at hand, but as they expressed this desire by opening up a flaming portal at Columbia University, I'm somewhat disinclined to assist."
Only at Xavier's Institute could this possibly be a serious conversation coming from someone who isn't wearing a straitjacket. "There are parties involved in handling it, of course," she waves a hand. "Though as the prince has no intentions of surrendering himself, there may eventually be call to…demonstrate that this world is not at the mercy of petulant fire giants."
*
"Of course there is," Erik tells Moira, flatly. "Because we couldn't kill it. However, I have reason to believe that if the ground is not further disturbed, to any great degree… it may continue to sleep."
Erik accepts the juice in return, only now taking another drink from it. The glass lingers by his mouth as Crystal builds upon her would-be crazy talk, but… he knows her to be far from crazy. "Asgard?" he asks, clearly not familiar with the term. He lowers the glass and muses upon her words further. "Muspelheim…? Sounds German."
A look of concern is sent to Moira, then back to Crystal. "All the more reason to train the X-Men, at last," he says. "It would seem there may quickly come a time when we aren't only defending mutant kind from unwanted threats."
*
Moira isn't unintelligent. In fact, she probably qualifies as genius level — she's just surrounded by geniuses here. She listens to Crystal's words, only slightly understanding all of it, but her eyes widen. "…Erik…may be right on this one. This world isn't meant to be used as a staging ground or a… time out corner for anyone. What the hell…" Moira breathes out quietly. She finally just shakes her head and takes a few of those halting steps over to one of the chairs on the back patio. She settles into it, at least taking some weight off of her leg, especially since she's not doing any back yard reforming. "…Are there ways we can help with this mess, Crystal?"
*
"Norse, to be precise." Crystal's smile quirks at Erik's response, a flicker of amusement in her features. "Things seem to be relatively under control at the moment," she assures Moira. "After a trip to Muspelheim to…collect some intelligence. But if we're not able to avert things, our hope is to at least be able to relocate them somewhere with less danger of civilian damages."
She talks like someone completely comfortable with planning military operations or diplomatic arrangements, despite the fact that she looks more like a young housewife. "In which case, yes," she sighs to Erik. "The assistance of the X-Men would be useful. I'd want to speak with Charles first, though, of course."
*
"I might recommend Death Valley," Erik replies, drily. "I understand nuclear warheads are tested there."
Another drink of orange juice, and Erik moves to find a place to sit as well. He crosses one leg loosely over his knee, then leans forward to study Crystal. "In this case, there is a chance that this… Muspelheim, or Asgard, either could become enemies of not only the X-Men, but of America. The NATO allies. Or?" He smiles. "The opposite of enemies. In either case, I am compelled to understand everything I might about each of these peoples. To know thine enemy is to best them, and to know your friends is to trust them."
*
The brunette now falls quiet. It's not that Moira doesn't entirely have anything to add, but sometimes she does much better listening and learning than trying to nose in on things she doesn't entirely understand. Especially considering she doesn't much feel an X-Men. Right now, she just remains a quiet ear, watching them both.
*
"I'm quite certain that won't be an issue," Crystal says to Erik's mention of governments, wincing afterwards and pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "I'm sorry. There is…no way to say this without sounding rude. But Erik, by and large, the various governments and people of this world are not seen as…" Another pause. "Prepared to enter that particular stage. Any more than you would have opened formal diplomatic relations with the tribe Storm was staying with," she adds, apologetic.
"Honestly, the idea of any of them meeting with the United Nations? Can you imagine the chaos? No. Believe me, it is in everyone's best interest that even the existence of these people stay out of the public awareness." Like her own people. It's unsaid, but it's there in her eyes when she looks back at him.
*
"It will prove difficult to cover up such a thing as flame portals at a university," Erik answers. "There already exists enough xenoparanoia, with the right prompting, I fear social stability could be at risk. How, then, are their actions to be hidden? Would they be branded as mutants? To the unsuspecting American public, anyone who shows certain abilities will be thusly categorized."
*
"I…I don't know," Crystal admits, looking away as she stands, clearly worried. No wonder she's been so scarce lately. Things to wrestle with. "I need to go and speak with my family," she decides, stepping over to Erik's side and leaning in to claim a soft kiss of apology. "Wait up, if you can. We'll talk when I return, maybe once I have more information your help will find the answer." Straightening, she nods to Moira with another small smile. "Take care," she says politely, then heads toward the grounds.
*
Crystal has left.
*
"Be well, Crystal…" Moira echoes after her, though she's still looking quite worried. She pushes herself into standing again, "I should actually go check on a few of the others from yesterday. Make certain everyone is holding together. If…if you ever want to talk, Erik… not just need, even… Just want, please, reach out? You aren't in this alone either." Moira pauses a moment to rest a light, warm hand against his shoulder, that old care and friendship in her eyes again, before she pulls away to limp smoothly for inside.
*
Erik turns his cheek into Crystal's kiss; a smile breaks through the diplomatic poise, and he looks after her with growing concern as she departs. "I shall, my dear."
"Are we in over our heads, Moira?" he asks, with a tone of surprising earnest once Crystal is out of earshot. He turns to look at her, retaining her for a brief moment. "That creature claims it was I who awakened it… with my excavation of rare metals from deep underground. Is it possible that we mutants simply can't help but to be… meddlesome?"
*
An arch of her brow comes as she sees that smile at the kiss on his cheek. Interesting. Was there more there than Moira thought? She could hope. It does make her smile a bit more as well. But then he's turning and speaking to her. She blinks, her pale eyes going a bit wide at the new information. A slow exhalation comes in turn and she lingers there, considering. She doesn't give a brush off or too quick answer. Eventually, though, she does speak.
"Mutants… cannot help but to be… a force of change, because mutants are visible evolution. They *are* change, and so will show change to the world. I don't think Meddlesome is the world. Meddling is a conscious choice. None of you have a choice in being what you are… just with what you do with it. You can meddle, you can make things worse… or we can educate, protect and make them better. I think you've all done very good at the second. We… we should continue that."
*
But to act at all is to meddle. The thought runs through Erik's mind, perhaps visible in the way his brow creases and his lips press together. At her last, though, he smiles. "Yes. You're right, of course." He reaches up to place a hand over hers, then pats it once before letting go. "Do tell me how the young ones are doing?" he asks.
Then, he turns to regard the mangled kitchenware scattered in a pile not far from him. Mending them will take some work, but… he's got plenty of thinking to do, and clearly time to kill if he intends to stay up for the redhead inhuman.
*
"I…I'll let you know. I always do." Moira reassures. And it's true now, even as it was then. She knows he cares for them and some of the more shy ones simply are too intimidated by him to open up easily. It doesn't mean he cares any less. So, Moira is the little, motherly bird, offering the soft shoulder when it's needed and then reporting back so his heart can be at rest too. She gives his hand one more, quietly fond squeeze and then lets go to head back into the mansion.