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At some point before lunch, as conventional wisdom measures lunch hour, a knock comes to the door of Charles' office. Light, though resonant, a hint of muffled fabric. The fact the person behind is a mental minefield gives away fairly reasonably who it might be, if the hushed laughter of students moving quietly along the corridors en route to the kitchen or another class did not. Scarlett might well seem the epitome of what one day they'll call hippies: flowers in her hair, a loose dress, the bearing of calm. A bag over her shoulder contains varied objects, a book and a bright feather, among other things, peeking out.
*
"Please come in," Xavier says as he moves one stack of papers across his desk. The school year approaches quickly and there is a lot of work to do to get ready. "It's open."
*
The door touched open with the slightest amount of pressure admits the redhead, who slips inside with an equally soft footstep. "I do not envy you the amount of paperwork we surely generate, having an idea of how much I am required to manage simply for Columbia." A faint smile touches her lips, teased wry and serene. Peonies dancing along her brow and curling against her temples form a wash rendered papery white and soft rose, their hearts dappled in violet and gold. "Hello, Professor. I wondered if you had time for me to pick your brain, as they say." The soft lilt of her voice muses on a pause, then goes past. "With regards to the need for these." Her gloved fingers wiggle slightly.
*
"By all means," Xavier says as he looks up. "In fact, I rather need to talk to you as well about the episode from a couple of weeks ago. I'm glad you stopped by." Charles looks to Rogue's fingers, and back. "Alright."
*
Holding the strap of her bag easily enough, Scarlett settles in. Standing does not bother her in the least; she practices the most difficult yoga postures on the back lawn and holds them for increasingly long durations as part of her daily regimen. Calm settled over her does not prompt her to inquire which episode or such. "They could be linked. But by all means, please." Manners have their place, and she forfeits the stage easily enough.
*
"I need to know why you felt it was important to bring a stranger into a home full of children who rely on this place to be a secret refuge for them. I need to know who he is, why he was here, and I need your assurance that he will never return," Xavier says plainly.
*
"He was trying to warn you that another of his associates has been stirring up riots. Had you questions about her, I wasn't capable of answering them beyond the basics. The woman in question seems to disturb society against our kind, and it seemed prudent to make a connection where you would be able to find out the details firsthand. At the time I was days out of one of those riots, and saw what sort of impact she created. The way people simply… stopped acting rationally, stopped talking, and turned violent. If that were to keep happening, then we've not only lost safety in the city and here, but we may be significantly harmed if the public turns against us. As it seems that's what the Enchantress wishes to do." Her fingers sliding up the strap, Scarlett answers after a moment to compose her thoughts. The articulated brilliance of her green eyes goes at odds with the rest of her dreamy attire and bearing.
"Professor King promised his father not to interfere with her. His cousin, I think. He had hoped that by talking to you, he could impress the importance of the problem to you and answer your questions. Bring home the gravity and at least try to steer things away from trouble, as much as he could. He's a professor at Columbia in archaeology."
*
Xavier exhales, "It was an extremely poor choice to tell someone about this place. Our secrecy and the security of our children is paramount. You violated that. It would have been a better choice to set up a meeting place. Your professor is unlike most of the faculty I am familiar with at that institution. Who is the woman you are speaking of and why is it our issue?"
*
Censure is taken with a nod of calm acknowledgment. Scarlett tends not towards emotional shows at ground level; maybe at twenty thousand feet where no one else hears. "I will make it clear he isn't welcome, and the rest is on him." Then she continues, addressing the questions. "The Enchantress seems to have some capacity to alter people's actions at large. She stirred up a rights march into a violent anti-mutant riot, a mob. No one hurt her. Why should we care? Because she seems to turn sentiment against us."
The flash of anguish in her eyes is something evaporating away. "I don't wish people hurt or dying. I don't want to see a mob on the doorstep here or burning through New York because a girl has purple skin or a man becomes a giant. Because my conviction lies in that dream we can live peacefully together without discord and may face our common challenges united, rather than ruptured by internal divisions that have us at one another's throats. And if I cannot be of direct help, then doesn't wisdom say bring the knowledge to the one among us who can? I'm sorry I erred bringing him here. Believe me, the last thing I want is for anyone in the school to be at risk. Not friends, whom I love dearly, nor children, whom I would do anything to give a better future than the one being plotted out for them by those who don't understand and who fear. And if she is threatening that balance, by whatever reasons, it's wrong. Better to speak out against it and win trust than be attacked."
*
"This Enchantress does indeed seem like a threat, if what you are saying is true. Though I think it is far more likely for a mob to show up at our door step if our graduates continue to bring people not properly vetted to that very door step. I have no problem in assisting against this new threat. At the same time, your Professor does not seem to be as he appears. I am unable to scan his mind. The only other person on the planet I have run into with that ability is not of this planet."
*
"I do not envy the burdens of a telepath." A sad curve of her lips follows the turn of Scarlett's eyes towards the swath of papers, and outwards towards the window. "One must have a very secure house to dare venture outside into that wild, tumultuous world. I hear what you say. It will not happen again." After one has apologized, what else can she do? Actions speak loud as a girl's voice, and the future carries their shadows of events to come, things yet done. "The reason I came is simple, on the face of it. How better to control the absorption, if it's even possible. I would rather not dread being on the subway. Ducking through Grand Central Station on a rainy day, while in a short-sleeved dress, would be the grandest of dreams, wouldn't it? What can be done to make it a gift I control, rather than a curse that decides for me?"
*
"To be plain, I do not know. I am not sure if there is an answer for it, though I will continue to try. I am afraid that gene modification is a long ways off. We do not know how to change genetic makeup. From there, there is a long road to any sort of modification. And even then, the side effects could be dire," Charles says sympathetically. "I wish there was more I could do. And I'll continue to try."
*
The faint, burning arc of the smile does not reach her eyes. "Ah. It was perhaps a little too grand to hope, wasn't it? That answers might somehow lie within, something not done, something not tried." Her hands close around her upper arms, crossed lightly for a few seconds. Then she shifts onto her back heel and breaks their clasp. "What a thoroughly rotten turn of events, and work yet to complete before Labour Day. Perhaps research one day will turn out something." Scarlett gives a faint, infinitesimal smile that reaches nothing in her eyes, that wall thrown down and the vault of her mind gone quiet, all pulled into that strange space reinforced by meditation and breathing techniques. "Thank you for your time. Goodbye, Professor."
*
"You are quite welcome," Xavier says with a nod. "Best of luck to you in your schooling this upcoming semester." Charles goes back to reviewing syllabi for the school year and making sure that the class sizes are in order.