Charles Xavier | XMFC Au | 5brokenoptimismOctober 18 2011, 07:25:29 UTC
Charles has had better days, to be sure. Slumped over his knees in a raggedy set of clothes and tousled hair, he looks the picture of a man out of his luck. He was currently having a seemingly one-sided conversation with a vicious looking dog, all bones and fur, blood and teeth. What may once have been a German Shepard is chained to a stop sign, just out of reach of it's human companion, watching with glossy dead eyes for a hand to stray into reach
( ... )
Charles does not hesitate to add the few cans he had picked up to the collection, inquisitive blue eyes drifting now and then from the door to studying his near twin. It would have been lying of him to claim he was not intrigued, though this was neither the time nor the place to spend contemplating that particular topic.
"Erik is quite effective at alerting me to approaching danger. Even in the darkness, I can trust his eyes and ears, or perhaps more accurately, his nose, to warn me well ahead of the danger." The calm neutrality with which Charles mentioned it could have proven a fair warning to most that his mental stability was not entirely intact, if the fact that he had the infected canine at all was not enough
( ... )
"Right," And he stare at Charles for a moment; inwardly debating the pleasure of having someone to talk to against the chances Charles might loose his mind and feed either of them to the dog should he fall asleep. He's not entirely sure yet, but a bit of arrogance keeps him from popping off a shot or taking flight-- and secretly, Wesley doesn't see the point in continuing on with life if there's no one else, anyway, it was boring and he was just spending days killing shit-- days and days-- but it was always with the hope of finding someone else
( ... )
Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Charles followed Wesley out of the store, reloading his shotgun carefully. He catches pieces of the doubt in Wesley's thoughts, frowning slightly, but latches on, instead, to the familiar need to not be alone. You are not alone anymore, my friend His mind whispered the words back to Wesley as Charles glanced up and down the streets, listening for the shuffle of feet over his breathing
( ... )
Erik had been doing every little thing he could to survive this little... whatever it was. Humans infected with he didn't want to know what. Though he stops short the moment he hears that familiar voice. That familiar voice saying his name. Something that causes him to scowl slightly.
Moving closer to the duo he can't help but raise a brow at the chained up rabid zombie dog, "You could say that, Charles."
hello to you too bb ♥ brokenoptimismOctober 21 2011, 06:04:33 UTC
Charles hears the familiar sound of that voice behind him, peering over his shoulder at a face he hasn't seen in quite some time anywhere but in his head. It draws a look of mild surprise as he turns to face his old friend, ignoring the lunging canine tugging at its chains. Mild only because there is a part of him that believes this is just another trick of his mind and the long, insufferable dead silence of his world since the zombies appeared.
"Erik?" He shoulders the shotgun, watching the other mutant, trying to determine whether this really is, in fact, Erik. The chances of that seem unlikely. That the other mutant would have found him here of all places. Still, he hesitates to try and read Erik's mind, the far simpler method of finding his answer.
*snuggles and squishes Charles*lookforcreatorOctober 21 2011, 06:17:38 UTC
When the rabid zombie dog goes to lung at Charles those eyes narrow and there's a twist of the chain, jerking the dog back a bit harshly. Showing the rabid canine just who was boss here. He didn't care if it was zombified or not.
It's me, Charles
"What're you doing out here with it?" Meaning the damn dog and calling it by HIS name for that matter.
It's flattery Erik. shhhhbrokenoptimismOctober 21 2011, 06:24:43 UTC
Charles catches the projected thought, though his eyes are still running over the master of metal in a state of slight disbelief, free hand reaching out to place it on his old friend's shoulder. Reassure himself Erik was solid, was there. But if the thought had not convinced him, the yank of the chain does, and he's peering over his shoulder to check on his last remaining companion. Dead or not, he still cares for the canine that managed to help keep him alive all this time.
"Erik, leave him alone." And it's not really clear which one he is speaking to, but he turns his attentions back to the man in front of him now, eyes searching. "Early warning system." The words are a murmur, an automatic response. The rattle of the chain wakes him when danger approaches. "What are you... How did you get here, Erik?"
"You actually think I'm going to leave you alone with that thing? We're leaving Charles and you sure as hell aren't taking that thing with you." With US is left unsaid. He doesn't like that mangy thing and he won't have it around HIS Charles.
"It doesn't matter how I got here. What matters is that I am and we're leaving."
"He's saved my life on numerous occasions." Charles' words held a biting undertone he did not catch in time to stop. An unspoken comparison he did not finish. He didn't blame Erik for not being around. That wasn't the point. But the canine had given its life for Charles, had been his only companion in this hellish shell of the old world he once knew for so long that he had not been able to accept that it was, for all purposes, dead.
Erik's eyes narrow at the biting undertone, at Charles words. It only makes him jerk that chain around the dead dog's throat that much more causing it to have a hard time 'breathing'. "I don't care what it's done," he growls.
"Erik, Stop." Charles words are harsh as he moves closer to him, reaching for his hand, trying to keep him from strangling the already lifeless dog.
"Leave him be." The second half loses that harsh tone, nearly a plea as he looks over his shoulder to the bloodied zombie trying to claw it's way to them. There's actual concern in his voice. Worry for the dangerous creature that would sooner rip his throat open than let Charles touch it.
"I'll stop when the thing's head if tore off its body," he grounds out. But Charles' tone is helping a little. Not much though. As far as Erik's concerned the dog needs to die permanently. It's HIS job to protect the telepath not some dead dog's.
That comment sparks a pained, almost desperate look from Charles as he closes his hand over Erik's, trying to lower his hand.
"Please, Erik." Charles had relied perhaps too heavily on the German Shepard while it was alive. He had associated it with Erik far too closely for company as much as the protection it offered him. If Erik killed it now, it would rip away the piece of him that had been clinging so desperately to the illusion that the canine was still alive.
The contact draws his attention even more than the sound of Erik's voice had, and his thumb smooths across the other mutant's skin with wonder. Erik truly was there, solid and warm and alive. Charles had given up hope that he would see any of the other mutants again, especially after the last of his little band had fallen to the zombies.
"Why're you protecting this thing?" He asks with narrowed eyes, gritting his teeth. The more Charles wanted to protect the dead dog the more Erik wanted to kill it permanently.
"It's not here to protect you. It WON'T protect you. I won't allow it." Though Charles' touch does cause him to start a bit but it doesn't stop his firm hold on that chain or the thought within his mind of wanting to rip the dog apart for being anywhere near HIS telepath.
"That thing has kept me alive. I would be nothing more than entrails smeared across the road if not for him." Charles fights to be firm, to be commanding in his need for Erik to stop this, now. But what he hears when his mind touches Erik's again throws him off guard.
The thought is such a fierce one, Charles couldn't help but hear it, his own mind reaching out with a swirl of calm. Pleading is failing, and he can already feel how close that anger, the possessiveness to it, is coming to having Erik follow through on his desire to kill the canine sharing his name. He doesn't want this. Refuses to allow his trusted companion to meet such a grizzly end at Erik's hand.
"Erik. Erik, he doesn't matter. Leave him alone. Look at me." His hand lets Erik's go, reaching up to touch the side of his face. Reveling in the warmth, the realness of the pulse beneath his palm. Just look at me.
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"Erik is quite effective at alerting me to approaching danger. Even in the darkness, I can trust his eyes and ears, or perhaps more accurately, his nose, to warn me well ahead of the danger." The calm neutrality with which Charles mentioned it could have proven a fair warning to most that his mental stability was not entirely intact, if the fact that he had the infected canine at all was not enough ( ... )
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Moving closer to the duo he can't help but raise a brow at the chained up rabid zombie dog, "You could say that, Charles."
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"Erik?" He shoulders the shotgun, watching the other mutant, trying to determine whether this really is, in fact, Erik. The chances of that seem unlikely. That the other mutant would have found him here of all places. Still, he hesitates to try and read Erik's mind, the far simpler method of finding his answer.
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It's me, Charles
"What're you doing out here with it?" Meaning the damn dog and calling it by HIS name for that matter.
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"Erik, leave him alone." And it's not really clear which one he is speaking to, but he turns his attentions back to the man in front of him now, eyes searching. "Early warning system." The words are a murmur, an automatic response. The rattle of the chain wakes him when danger approaches. "What are you... How did you get here, Erik?"
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"It doesn't matter how I got here. What matters is that I am and we're leaving."
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"Leave him be." The second half loses that harsh tone, nearly a plea as he looks over his shoulder to the bloodied zombie trying to claw it's way to them. There's actual concern in his voice. Worry for the dangerous creature that would sooner rip his throat open than let Charles touch it.
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"Please, Erik." Charles had relied perhaps too heavily on the German Shepard while it was alive. He had associated it with Erik far too closely for company as much as the protection it offered him. If Erik killed it now, it would rip away the piece of him that had been clinging so desperately to the illusion that the canine was still alive.
The contact draws his attention even more than the sound of Erik's voice had, and his thumb smooths across the other mutant's skin with wonder. Erik truly was there, solid and warm and alive. Charles had given up hope that he would see any of the other mutants again, especially after the last of his little band had fallen to the zombies.
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"It's not here to protect you. It WON'T protect you. I won't allow it." Though Charles' touch does cause him to start a bit but it doesn't stop his firm hold on that chain or the thought within his mind of wanting to rip the dog apart for being anywhere near HIS telepath.
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The thought is such a fierce one, Charles couldn't help but hear it, his own mind reaching out with a swirl of calm. Pleading is failing, and he can already feel how close that anger, the possessiveness to it, is coming to having Erik follow through on his desire to kill the canine sharing his name. He doesn't want this. Refuses to allow his trusted companion to meet such a grizzly end at Erik's hand.
"Erik. Erik, he doesn't matter. Leave him alone. Look at me." His hand lets Erik's go, reaching up to touch the side of his face. Reveling in the warmth, the realness of the pulse beneath his palm. Just look at me.
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