1963-11-17 - Dadneto
Summary: Lorna and Erik discuss their recent discovery; that Erik is Lorna's father.
Related: Expecting Guests
Theme Song: Rest Young Child
lorna magneto 

Lorna dropped her gaze to her lap as Emma as gave her hand a squeeze and Moira offered the same gentle touch on her shoulder in passing. She kept silent as the others filed out of the room, and the door slid shut. Effectively leaving Erik and her alone. The young girl shifted awkwardly in her seat, green eyes lifting to gaze up at Erik and she struggled for a long moment with what to say.

Then she was drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them, settling her chin atop them. Her mouth opened and shut several times, and a hard exhale escaped her in frustration. Color flushing her cheeks.

"Sorry, I-I.. uhm.. uh.." Her gaze fell and she dragged her hand over her features.

"I.. I don't know exactly what to say. I'm sorry.. I-I don't even know what to call you or .. or what and I'm just.. I'm in shock I think? I don't know. Like Mister Logan's son told me that we /smelled/ related… that was weird.. and now this is weird, I'm babbling. I don't know. Do you .. do you e-ven /want/ me around?" Her voice leapt an octave and she flushed, dropping her head against her knees and closing her eyes.

"You don't /have/ to be my dad.. I-I'm an adult. It's totally okay.. like.."


With a slightly forlorn expression, Erik watches the others' departure. This was the most appropriate thing, of course, but he can't help but wish that some of them might stay. Emma can go, of course. She was… interesting, to say the least. One wonders if she'd patented the color 'white' or something.

Soon enough, he turns back toward Lorna. He had considered this possibility, but nothing could have prepared him for it being a reality. Whatever he might have said, there's not much of a chance to spit it out; not against the young woman's nervous chattering. It isn't until she tells him that he doesn't have to be around that he scoots forward, his expression suddenly becoming concerned.

"Lorna, I've no interest in walking away from this responsibility," he tells her, with a certain level of sternness that isn't without empathy.

"Listen." Erik scoots to the edge of his seat, leaning forward upon his knees and gesturing with his hands toward Lorna. "Neither of us were expecting this. I suspected it was possible, but… you can't prepare for wild, unexpected possibilities, until they become fact." He shakes his head. "It never occurred to me that this could… be a thing. But, it is, now." There is frustration on his face, a frustration that formed there for a number of reasons, but it softens now, and he smiles. "I don't think either of us should walk away from it."


Lorna blinked up at him, chewing her lower lip as he spoke, her eyes widening slightly as he spoke and then scooted forward on his seat. Then she was looking down, settling her legs back on the floor as she shifted awkwardly in her seat. Her hands reaching up to smooth her hair back and retie her ponytail in a nervous fidget again.

"Okay." She mumbled, green eyes lifting upwards to look back at him. "Okay.." She exhaled, dropping her hands to her lap. She was trying not fidget again.

"So.. uhm..uh.. now what.. exactly.." She rubbed the back of her neck, so much for not fidgeting.

"What next? I mean.. I have like a million questions and I'm not entirely sure what do say, or not.. and.." She halted herself and exhaled another calming breath. "I'm babbling again."


Erik lifts his hand, and the paperclip suddenly zooms away from Lorna. It comes to a slow halt a few inches from his fingers, and begins bending around itself slowly, gracefully. Erik is watching it for a moment, with focus, and tilts his head in a curious way as it begins to slowly form a Star of David. "I suppose you deserve to know a few things about your…" A pause, then a hesitant grin. "About your father."

The paperclip-turned-religious symbol gently floats across the way toward Lorna. He doesn't let her take it though, instead choosing to create a polarity that is in opposition to hers. "I was born to a Jewish family in Poland," he explains. "We were taken during the war. My parents were separated from me." He turns his face down a bit, focusing upon the bent paperclip with a shadow of haunted memory upon his face as he recounts the tale. "It was the first time I did this."

The Star of David rends itself into an ugly mess, bending against itself into a tangle of wire.

"Which, of course, captured the attention of some very bad people."

The mess straightens out, only this time it forms itself into a picture perfect swastika.


Lorna startled as the paperclip flew up and away from her, the metal already bent into odd angles and shapes from her twisting it about earlier. She remained silent however, curling up against the arm of the chair she sat in as he bent it this way and that into shapes between his fingers, her eyes locked onto it in fascination. The level of control she'd never had amazed her, and carried her attention as singularly as his words did.

His hesitant grin pulled an equal reaction from her and she leaned forward as if to take the paperclip, her hands falling back to her lap though as it remains beyond her easy reach and he changes the shape yet again.

A furrow of her brow followed, a frown marring her features as his tale progressed and she clapped her hands to her lips. A small gasp elicited from her and she shifted uneasily in her seat. "So.. so.." She bit her lower lip, her voice soft and hushed. "My grandparents.. they.. did they survive?" Her voice lifting upwards at the end, as she looked to him. He had said separated after all.


The swastika begins reforming into a Star of David. There is a long silence; unfortunately, it lingers long enough that Erik probably doesn't need to answer her question with words. The symbol floats gently into Lorna's hand, where his magnetic control of it disappears. "No, Lorna. I'm… terribly sorry, but, they didn't."

He turns away for a moment, not wanting her to see his face dead on. He still carries with him a very deep seed, a threat of vengeance; a thought that some day, he will resume the hunt for his mother's killer, and dole out revenge in the most brutal way. He knows it isn't right, to answer murder with murder, and yet he fears that his only option is to keep walking - no, running away from that quest.

When he finally looks back to her, his expression is wrought with grief, and a certain darkness that might shake one's soul if they really looked hard enough upon it. "They did not. Auschwitz was an unpleasant place, Lorna, but it was there that I learned how to do… what I do."


Lorna's hands cup outwards to catch the tiny metal star, her gaze lingering on it as she ran her fingers over the manipulated metal. Yet it was only for a moment before her gaze lifted to him in the thickening silence before he spoke. As he turned away, she closed her hands over the little star. It was hard, to go from being secure in the knowledge of who she was, to now having a different story. One bereft of extended family in a manner that brought the stories she'd learned in school to life. To terrible, tragic, life.

The grief so plainly written on his features has her moving, a tip toe and then another, and she was trying to settle onto the chair beside him. A simple thing, but if allowed she'd simply lean against him. Not quite a hug, but close.

"What about my mother?" She asked softly, blinking up at him. "Was she there too?"


A heavy breath is drawn and released, with a rise and fall of Erik's chest. He watches Lorna moving over, and once she settles into the chair, he reaches to wrap an arm around her shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he tells her, while they are still speaking of his parents. Her grandparents.

When she asks about her mother, though, he smiles, thankful to be able to answer that question with a bit of certainty. "I can guarantee you that she wasn't," he tells her. "I broke out of that horrible place shortly before the war's end. I was…" He pauses, frowning and looking across the room, trying to recollect those young days. "I was angry. So very angry. Lost and alone. I became reckless… drinking, stealing, using my abilities to accomplish whatever I wanted. I stayed in Germany, largely." He shakes his head slightly, then turns to look toward Lorna with a flush on his cheeks. "I was with many women, Lorna. I was not a good man, back then."

He truly hopes that he does not have to explain further. The shame in his expression should be enough, he hopes.


Lorna leaned into that gentle arm wrapped around her shoulders, her head resting against him and picking up the thump of his heart along with the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and spoke a hushed apology. It was odd, to grieve for people she'd never known or ever would know. People that would've been her grandparents, had things been different.

She was still trying to process all that that entailed, the fact that if she'd grown up with her birth father.. she'd have been Jewish. While here in America, she decidedly had not. All of those thoughts though twisted away as he smiled and assured her about her mother's survival… and explained in so many words where /she'd/ come from in this tale.

Well, at least when he blushed it became clear why /she/ was always turning pink. That certainly explained a great deal. She wrinkled her nose faintly, but didn't draw away from him. "So you don't necessarily know who she was?" She asked arching a brow.

"Cause.. Miss Frost, when she went looking.. she said I was adopted out of a church program. Straight out of Poland. No record of who my mother was or anything.." She mumbled.


"I don't," confirms Erik. It was a hard thing to do, for he'd truly become a very different man. As a teenager, he was as careless as they come. Selfish and narcissistic.

Which, really? Is sort of understandable, when one really thinks about it.

"I was a very stupid, angry, reckless young man." He leans away then, only so that he can turn and look at Lorna with apology in his face. "That recklessness is the reason you're here," he tells her, with positive tones in his voice that then turn negative. "It's also the reason why I wasn't there. I find myself unable to apologize, for that would translate an apology for your existence. But, I am sorry that I wasn't there, Lorna."


A flush colored her cheeks faintly and she looked down at her lap, opening up her cupped hands to look at the little star before he leaned back and she offered him a weak smile. "It's okay," She offered, "I mean.. it's not exactly your fault. And it's not like you knew about me." She glanced back down at her hands, watching as the light caught the metal and glinted gently.

"Besides, it's not exactly as if I've had a bad life. My adopted parents adopted me.. and kept me. They never turned me away because of .. things.." She shrugged, and bit her lower lip. "Like.." She exhaled a breath, her cheeks puffing out.

"My hair is actually green." She mumbled out hurriedly, glancing up at him. "I've dyed it since I was eight. I was home schooled till then 'cause my adoptive parents were scared that I might get picked on for it.. And like, the neighborhood kids did."


There is a sense of relief that comes to him, for she isn't pressing the issue. It's not something he talks about with anyone, not even with Crystal, or Charles. But here… it was relevant. Beyond relevant. Lorna is a grown woman and deserves to know the truth, no matter how hard it is to speak it. Fortunately, the subject is changing.

"Green?" he asks, leaning away and looking at her pointedly. The left side of his mouth quirks up into a grin. "You should grow it out. I don't imagine your peers at the Frost Institute would poke fun of you for it." Eyebrows shoot upward. "Especially with Miss Frost as your Headmistress."

Removing his arm now, he turns to face her directly, crossing one leg over his knee and folding his hands into his lap. "How old were you when you were adopted? Where did you grow up?"

Lorna may not be the only one with a billion questions.


A hand rises to scratch at the back of her head and Lorna grins faintly, a sheepish sort of smile. "Actually.. it sort of.. uhm washes out. I don't know why. It's only started as I started to practice with my powers. Before it was sort of every so often.. but now? It comes out when I shampoo it. Miss Frost was going to help me figure out a way of keeping it dyed longer.." She ducked her head then, and shifted in her seat.

"I sort of.. well I've been kind of scared about wearing it that way.. with everything happening in the city.." Her voice was soft and she shrugged faintly and glanced back up at him. Mulling over the other questions.

"I guess, from what Miss Frost told me.. is that I was adopted as baby. Sort of as a war baby I guess, there were a lot at in Europe, too many for the orphanages.. so I must've been shipped over here. I dunno. But I grew up in Upstate New York, few hours away. In the country. The city was kind of a total shock.. still is sometimes. Uhm.. I graduated high school with honors. Tried to get into a few colleges for science down here.. but I didn't get accepted. I sat in on a few classes that would let me over the summer.. it was really Miss Frost's school that finally accepted me with a full ride too.."


"Your discretion is admirable," Erik answers. "Smart, considering the way most Americans think of mutants. But, it's a pity, nonetheless, for someone to feel forced into hiding who they truly are." His eyes flash for a moment. He could train her, teach her how to defend herself… no one would ever mock her again.

That, he keeps to himself. For now.

"The entire European continent had been torn apart," he tells her. "There were so many displaced people, refugees… I understand that when the Allies discovered the concentration camps, they didn't realize that feeding my people, who were starving, was actually dangerous to their health. They needed doctors, but they had none." He shakes his head. "It's quite fortunate that you ended up here, Lorna."

For science. That makes sense. Erik has always been fascinated by science, primarily because his magnetokinetic abilities are a science in and of themselves. "What will your foster parents think, now that you've found your dad?" he asks. It still seems strange to even be saying it, and truthfully, a great deal of this is still coming as a shock to him. It'll take days for it to truly sink in.


"I met a mutant at a cafe the other day, he was all blue, and had a tail and yellow eyes and fangs. No one would sit next to him, or even serve him. Not till I sat and talked to him.." She chewed her lower lip. "He was very nice, from Germany actually.. apparently he lost people too." She glanced down at her hand and pursed her lips together.

"When I tried to leave the restaurant a couple of men tried to start something.. cause I'd sat with him.. But he poofed out and away and was gone.." Her eyes widened and looked up at him. "And I just.. I worry that if I let my hair be green that people would look at /me/ differently.. that.. that they'd want to kick me out of restaurants too.. or try to hurt me. Like on the television." She mumbled, "And I just… I.. I just started to accept my powers in the last six months.. I've hardly got any control.. Even though Miss Frost trains us regularly. Sometimes my powers are there and sometimes they just aren't when I try."

A sigh pulled from her lips and then the switch of topics back to what her adoptive parents might say and she shrugged, biting her lower lip. "I dunno.. I.. I don't think they ever expected it would be possible for me to have a birth family still.. around.." She glanced at him, her brows furrowing.

"So.. do I spend Thanksgiving with you, or them? And what should I call you?"


"Ein marr Deutschesmann?" Erik asks, hopeful of another mutant from Germany. "I would very much like to meet this gentleman."

He listens carefully when she speaks of how hard it can be to use her powers. Clearly, she wasn't abused and tortured into their awakening, so it's bound to be more difficult for her to access them. For Erik, it was… sometimes too easy. "It is my intention to do everything I can to change that manner of thinking. America still has a disregard for negroes, even though they've been freed from slavery for decades; because of Pearl Harbor, a general distrust of anyone from Asia. Mutants are considered even more of a threat. No one knows what we truly can do. That scares them, Lorna. It scares them, makes them feel threatened. And yet, you feel threatened. It goes both ways."

As the heavier topic dissolves, he sits upright and laughs. "Well, I should think you would spend Thanksgiving with your family, and if they feel comfortable inviting me, well… then I would be obliged and happy to accept. As for that other… question? You should call me whatever you like." His face brightens. "Dad does have a nice ring to it, just… please don't call me 'pop', or 'old man'. Far too American." A pause. "And don't listen to Alex Summers. I don't walk around here referring to myself as 'Magneto', as much as he likes the nickname."


A blink, and Lorna tilted her head to the side. She clearly didn't understand German. The disadvantage of being raised in good Ol' America's country—even in the North. A rural high school simply didn't have much in the way of foreign languages, English was her sole language.

His laughter earned a faint flush across her cheeks and she ducked her head, toying with a bit of hair that had slid free of her ponytail. "I dunno, Dad feels odd. I've had a Dad for most of my life.. s'just not the same now. I dunno. It'd be confusing to call him Dad, cause he's sort of still is. But you're my Dad too.." She scratched the bridge of her nose, her brow furrowing in thought. "What did you call your Dad? In Polish?" She blinked looking up at him.

"And who's Alex Summers? Magneto? What?" She tilted her head to the side, "Is that like your codename? Miss Frost wanted us to come up with some.. and costumes.. with like masks.. but I don't want to. I think it's kind of silly. And I don't want to be like.. I dunno, a hero or something. I just want to be able to use my powers and /not/ knock over random things on accident. Or set off my alarm clock.."


It takes a moment for Erik to recall such distant memories. Then, however, he smiles, fondly. "Tata. I called him tata. But people always hear that as 'papa' and think of the French." He shakes his head, then sighs deeply. "He was so confused when it all happened…"

The words trail off, and he's suddenly grateful that she's asking about codenames. "That's their codename for me. I don't hate it, but… I just prefer 'Erik', frankly. Magneto sounds like something out of a Saturday afternoon matinee." An eyebrow does shoot upward at mention of Frost wanting the students to wear costumes.


Lorna tried to mimic the pronunciation, and did fairly well as she repeated it softly a few times. Her smile faded some what as he sighs and darker memories relay over his expression. Her head tilting to the side as he explains that he hadn't come up with the 'codename' and she laughs softly, smothering the laughter behind her hand.

"That's what I said, err thought. Miss Frost wants us to have masks and use codenames and it's just so silly to me! She made it homework. But I haven't done it.. cause yeah.. I thought it was silly. I mean, I am /bad/ with coming up with creative things like that. And I'd never be able to take it seriously. I dunno, she spoke about wanting to make sure that students could use their powers in public and not draw attention to the school. There's a whole bunch of mutants that are there.. and I dunno, I always feel kinda silly when I try to train around them."

A sigh escapes her and she shoulders sag, a yawn escaping her as the rush and excitement and nerves finally peter out. "I just want to go to school, graduate and get control of my powers.. not like.. the rest of that.." She made a face.


"Well, you may not like it, but…" Erik shrugs. "Homework is homework. You never want to disappoint your teacher simply by not trying."

Rising, he walks across the study, looking for a particular book. It takes a few moments, but eventually, he makes an 'ah!' sound, and retrieves a thinner book. Walking back over, he hands it to Lorna, smirking quietly. "Here. Read this… it ought to give you something you can twist into a codename."

Upon the spine, the book reads: 'An Introduction to Magnetism.'


A faint grumble is muttered under her breath as he chides her gently on doing her homework. Her gaze following as he stands and crosses the study and selects a book, her brows climbing higher as she accepted the book and turned it over in her hands, reading over the title. Her lips pursing together briefly as she flickered a glance up at him and back.

"I'm not wearing a silly costume or a mask." She mumbled, pouting faintly as she opened up the book and briefly flicked through it.

"Besides, my powers aren't really.. reliable. I'm not going to go rushing off into something over my head.." A pause, "Well okay, nothing /dangerous/…" An exhale and she wrinkled her nose as she shut the book carefully and settled it on her lap.


"I will help you to learn, Lorna," Erik tells her with a smile. "Maybe you can learn how to use your powers in a much better environment than I. I'll see to it that I speak with Miss Frost about this." He sits back down then, and reaches for the young woman's hands. "And, I'd like to be a part of your life. I've missed out on so much of it already. Fortunately… I don't have to miss out on any more."


Her own smile was just as reflexive, and as he took her hands with both of his she gave them a small squeeze. Her smile warmed further if possible, without any of the awkward nervousness that had dogged her person earlier. She was relaxed.

"I know you will." She shifted, glancing around the room and back briefly. "Maybe I could come over here and spend time with you on the weekends. When I don't have classes or anything. At least the campus isn't too far away." She arched a brow upwards and tilted her head to the side.

"Then I could get some practice in and stuff." A shrug, "If that's okay with everyone that is.." She bit her lower lip, and a yawn escaped her again.


"I'll speak with Charles about it," Erik answers. "But, given the circumstances, I doubt he'll take issue with it." He smiles. "And frankly, in spite of young Miss Grey's insistence upon calling me 'Professor Lehnsherr', I don't actually teach here. I don't have nearly the responsibilities of many others. I can come visit as often as I damn well please. Of course, I'll defer to your Headmistress's preference." A pause. "She strikes me as one who values order."


A grin widens from a smile as she beams up at him, "Jean's my roommate. She told me about calling you Professor Lehnsherr.." A small giggle followed that. She paused though after a moment, her head tilting to the side as a thought occurred to her. "Should I.. er.. I dunno.. use your last name too?" Her brows shot upwards as she thought about it.

"Miss Frost is very much.. about everything being in its place and proper decorum. She's always telling me to sit up straight.." She mumbled, a faint hint of pink on her cheeks.

"Also she made Jean and I talk after Jean had a bad day and blew up at me. And she's really rather I dunno, intimidating sometimes. She's really perfect.. all the time.."


"And I believe she may have patented the color, 'white'," Erik jokes. Then he rises, grinning, and opens his arms in the offer of a hug. "We really shouldn't keep the others waiting."


Another small laugh escapes Lorna and she stands too, throwing her arms around him at the offered hug without hesitation. "Yeah, guess so." She mumbled against his shirt. A small squeeze following as she just held on for a good long while.

Lorna had always been particularly affectionate and hugs were dearly missing in the Frost Institute, Emma wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy sort after all. So after the long day, the nerves and the shock… Lorna decidedly needed and relished the hug.

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