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She's a dreamer, a gentle creature adrift on the wind when not lured north to the Arctic Circle and beyond. Scarlett spends her summer split between New York and places unknown, dashing around the world at speed. It's easy when she can break the sound barrier repeatedly and skim the cloud tops, but for a rare moment, she alights in the garden of the institute. Normally she would spend hours, tending to the plants, deadheading blooms and planting new ones or watering them, but the flowers may suffer for her absence. Perhaps.
Still, there is something cathartic to turning her attention. Kneeling in the dirt, she has two buckets beside her and clippers in her gloved hands. The act of weeding may not be much fun, but then shearing bushes into pretty shapes and murmuring to the plants words of encouragement not unlike she does with students satisfy. Everywhere is life, and the Soul Thief intends to absorb as much of it as she can by proximity rather than outright hunger. Besides, it makes for a finer picnic whenever someone bothers to wander out to the gazebo.
Speaking of the gazebo, Charles was out there, dressed very casually in a button up shirt with short (?!?) sleeves as well as jeans. He looks completely at ease for a change… though the fact that Moira was here for the past few days undoubtedly has something to do with that.
Spotting Rogue land in the garden, he gets to his feet and walks over, smiling a little, "Afternoon, Scarlett. Been thinking a little bit about what we do here." Uh oh. Charles having deep thoughts means that everyone's life is going to get interesting.
A casual Charles is an oddity past words; it might shock the younger students at a time when they critically require stability. Such is the spice of life. Older students, like the young woman acting as the Avengers liaison and fearlessly independent, endure these sorts of things with greater simplicity. She need but look up from her work, the green leaves of hydrangeas brushing her arms as Scarlett takes in this, too, as an unusual but not unimaginable oddity. "You dare to brave a tan? That would be dangerous, you know, it might even lead to an impression all is deliciously well."
She tips her head back slightly, absorbing a bit of the warmth in lieu of everything else. His statement does not take her aback. "Philosophy, professor? I suppose in that respect you can find your match for I've been given to meditate upon much on the nature of good leadership and responsibility."
Charles chuckles at the mention of attire, "Well, Moira has been visiting the past few days." Which probably explains why he has been a bit scarce, as he continues, "Though it wasn't philosophy I seek so much as purpose. In this case, well… I think we are being a bit too reactive. I want to be proactive in terms of problems with people." The fact that he said people is an important distinction, and not mutants. "I want to be looking for trouble, because then we can nip it in the bud before it gets to dig its roots in too deep."
"Visiting, is she? Ah, then that explains much." Wisdom belongs to the redhead, and the mirth glittering in her brilliant, surreal green eyes knows altogether too much. "Purpose is very often the byproduct of necessity and philosophy. If we aren't to be the mother of invention, then surely your thoughts are leading you in another direction for a troubled age." She prunes at the withered blossoms of a geranium on their worn stalks, dried out as she clips them one by one. Those pieces can be set aside for burial or composting later, perchance. Listening to him is effortless; thoughts whirl and spiral around to follow matters. "We need to pursue the business of helping others. Altruism or another purpose driving that?"
Charles hmms, "A couple of different things, actually. How are we going to mend fences between humanity and mutants if we aren't proactively helping people? By helping others, we'll help ourselves. And also…" He pauses, looking stern for a moment, "The best defense, they say, is a good offense. And people are going to be coming after us, so I want to be ready when they do."
Scarlett references an inquiring look, her fiery brows arching slightly as she considers the master of their little happy empire. A difference from the miserable empire, as it happens. "We cannot articulate the similarities with the general populace when they see us as other, and we persist in believing they are different," she agrees. "A scientific difference may exist, but I am not convinced that makes us any difference. We worry about the same matters, our societies are integrated, and trying to create divisions is a dark, dangerous road as we've seen all too well." Her fingers flex and snap a stem away from the hydrangea, taking a pile of dried out flowers in a globe with her. She stuffs these into the bucket. "People will come after us. We've already seen the difficulties remaining hidden and how being secretive only harbours more concerns."
Charles nods, "I'm not proposing abandoning the secrecy of the school itself, but I think the X-Men should be more prominent. On the level of the Avengers, even. Just… an example of mutants and humans working together, so we can break the false dichotomy."
The redhead tips her head back. "We should be intimate here, concealed for the sake of children. But they have not much hope if they do not see role models like themselves out there." Her fingers flash slightly to dismiss the notion and one of the bright, sunflame locks of her hair. "It is a false dichotomy. More substantially, it's important that we demonstrate not only goodwill but how we can be advantageous to others, instead of self-serving. Of course, there's no reason to think every last mutant under the sun is serving the greater good of the world, but this does help. "
Charles nods, "My thoughts exactly. I just worry that being too aloof might make people here think that we're not here for everyone." He considers, "Just something to think about, I suppose. But how have you been? I've noticed you've been a little scarce yourself lately." Because, well, he does pick up on these things.
Warren goes home.
"There's something to be said for a conventional team doing good, and making inroads where we can. Demonstrated efforts to be useful and visible are important, but distinctly valuable. It's just not enough to stand here and harp on about different ways of life. We have to put ourselves out there." Scarlett's voice carries all the consideration of her long, oft torturous relationship with what she is, and standing apart. "Ah, yes. I may have fallen in love with someone particularly doomed to his own difficult, lengthy path, and that just puts me at the nexus of a whole host of political difficulties and challenges. Not the least of which, he belongs to a completely hidden people much like us. And I can speak of this, in confidence, knowing full well that you know Crystal and guard the valued, privileged position of such people to choose for themselves. We think about this a great deal."
Charles smiles, "Well, Scarlett… good for you. I'm very glad for you, because… well, it can be difficult, but it's worth it." He chuckles, "Since I'm currently enjoying my own second chance at such a thing myself, with Moira back in town."
"Good is scarce the word." It's not as though her romantic history isn't positively tortured, bound into places that the human heart cannot prevail simply because she wishes it will. Her expression holds a brilliant hope and a luminous measure of reflective serenity atop pure terror, for at every given moment, that knowledge creeping through her psyche reminds her ever so deeply of the ties which bind. There's not a moment when she cannot draw on those memories and linger with them. "I think we can safely avert the conversation from that ruin. I'm trying to precipitate some idea of a future, some sense of living outside the moment."
Charles knows enough to know what her past has been like, to an extent, and nods, "Well, you deserve all the happiness you can get. Frankly, we all do, but you most assuredly do." He smiles a bit, "I know… well, despite everything going on, I've been incredibly fortunate in this."
"I am glad for it. May we all have such a thing on our plates." She inclines her head and smiles at Charles, though the plants are forgotten and the shears cast aside for the time being. She identifies some moment of calm, breathing out. Being apart from one's better self hurts. "Where do we go from here?"