xmansion | The Cuckoo in the Canary's nest [Open]

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The Cuckoo in the Canary's nest [Open]

Liz's office

Dr Elizabeth Masters is still in the process of getting settled into her new job, and her office floor remains littered with boxes, the contents of which she's still mid-way through putting onto shelves around the room. Her radio's on and she's listening to some old southern tunes, humming along melodiously as she works, her office door invitingly ajar to encourage anyone who might be passing to drop by.

Currently she's working on her computer, turned carefully away from the door, windows and any reflections so that only she can see the screen, typing up an official US government memorandum that someone like Liz Masters would have no business writing. It's a risk, but the incredibly dangerous woman lurking beneath Liz's skin has a great many calls on her time, other identities to be maintained, assets to be managed or controlled, and even when taking time out to play the schoolteacher she cannot let other matters slide.

In the Hallways

Liz rarely moves around without a cup of coffee in hand, and today is no different as she weaves her way through the Mansion, heading from her office toward the classroom where she has students to teach. If she sees you coming down the hallway she'll give a warm smile, particularly if it looks like you need help, and direct you to where you need to be, or answer any other questions for that matter. She's there to help.

In class

"Morning everyone!" Liz exclaimed brightly as she moved into the classroom, casting her eyes about for any signs of misbehaviour and pleased not to find any, moving toward the front to deposit her files. "Today we're going to be starting a new part of the curriculum; World War Two! Plus we're going to be starting it with a documentary movie, exciting huh?" She grinned, moving over to the projector to set up the film she wanted to show to the class, a carefully chosen episode of The Nazis, a Warning From History.

"Any questions before we get started?"

By the pool

It's late in the day and after a hard day's teaching Liz is relaxing in a white bikini on a sun lounger by the side of the pool, sunglasses perched on the top of her head reading a book. It's past the time at which students are allowed to use the pool, so it's not at all busy, Liz being the only person there, or at least so she thinks, so deeply is she buried in her book that she doesn't even notice you approach...or so it appears.

Around

[Wildcard: The cafeteria, the library, the grounds, anywhere except the subbasement-Liz isn't a member of the X-Men so isn't allowed down there.]

Seeking out Warren [Closed]

Warren Worthington was one of the more troubled students attending the school, and as a dutiful teacher Liz Masters was honor bound to help him out, although perhaps that wasn't entirely what had brought her out to one of the remotest parts of the mansion grounds, dressed in a white flannel shirt and smart black business trousers. It's hot and muggy and Liz was perspiring slightly as she tromped along the dusty path, the top buttons of her shirt undone so as to let a little air in, not really visible from ground level, but from above? Perhaps it would be enough to encourage a certain someone to come down to talk to her.

"Hello, Warren?" She called out, sounding uncertain as to whether he was actually there or not. "I'm Dr Liz Masters the new careers advisory, I was hoping to have a talk with you, if you're even here and I'm not just talking to myself that is."

She wasn't. It was so very easy to make the adjustments to her inner ear and nose to heighten their sensitivity, and the smell of his body and the thump of his heartbeat let her pinpoint exactly where the winged mutant was amidst the trees. But it suited her to allow him to think she had no idea where he was, even turning away to look at an entirely different section of trees altogether.

Of all the brats here and the oafs teaching them, this one showed by far the most promise.

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'Troubled' seems mild by comparison when one imagines all the other words his fellow mutants have used to describe him; it's a long list, but not entirely untrue. Things he does struggle with: concentrating on class, sneaking out, drinking and doing drugs on school property. Most of all, though? He encourages other teens or young adults to do the same thing and Xavier's surely can't have any of their goody two shoes being swayed to the dark side.

Ironic, considering he's gonna get played by someone from someplace similar.

He hears her, peers over his knees, head slightly tilted and lips quirked with mirth as he unashamedly takes a peek down her blouse. Warren can appreciate the gesture, that's for sure. Being all stretched out across his convenient tree perch simply gives him the excuse. If she asks, he'll say it was an accident.

"You must've been looking a while," comments the winged warrior, foot bouncing to an invisible beat. "I'm not too keen on a career yet, so can't say I'll have much to talk about." But he can come down, nonetheless, even though he's drawing up from his lazy position with some reluctance. Then, without second-guessing it, his feet step off the branch and he's falling, large wings stretching out just enough to offer some lift so he can glide.

"What's the haps, teach?" Casual as he can manage, ridiculous slang and all after he lands in front of her.

Liz jumps visibly at the sudden voice, whirling around to where she 'thought' it had come from, peering into the trees, seemingly still not entirely sure where he was although she could hear what he said.

That wingspan would be more than a little intimidating to someone of Liz's small stature, and it shows as she takes an involuntary step back at Warren's landing, obviously taken aback, subtly inviting the young man into defiance by the sudden meekness in her body language. Being confronted by a student with huge wings wasn't in the average teacher handbook after all, but she would still attempt to assert her authority nonetheless.

"As it happens I have been looking for you for awhile yes, you might not want careers advice but this is a mandatory part of the school's curriculum and you were timetabled in to see me today, can I ask why you didn't turn up?"

If she tried to confine him within rules then she sensed he would probably attempt to rebel, the more spectacularly the better. The boy was already breaking more than enough rules suggestion alienation from the school and its aims, how hard could it be to complete the process?

Now, with both feet firmly planted, Warren straightens to his full height, wings still outstretched. He can tell she's uneasy around him already and that makes him grin-- a ridiculously pompous flash of teeth, hazel eyes smoldering. Regardless, though, he's still pleasant and completely charismatic, even if he's hiding liquor in his jacket.

"Should I lie or tell the truth?" he asks, blond curls falling messily across his face when he tilts his head. "Either way, I just didn't want to go. I could've, but I'd have been late and you would have wondered why ... My answer would've been: Sorry I'm late— I didn't want to be here."

Does that count as enough of an explanation? Maybe, if he's blunt enough, he'll run this teacher off like all the others, get back to his tree-top drinking and being left alone.

Warren certainly is charismatic, a little too much for Liz who's already beginning to regret her decision to come out here alone and without any of the innate authority of a teacher in her office to browbeat. Not being used to being in this situation she's visibly unsure of herself, only rallying at Warren's open admission of truancy.

"You should always tell the truth Warren, it's wrong to lie." She frowns, folding her arms and trying to stare him down (or up considering he's taller than her). Liz isn't one to openly notice details like the slight bulge in his jacket pocket, but it's obvious that Warren thinks himself quite the rule breaker and that's enough to bring out Liz's sternness.

"I see, and why exactly didn't you want to be there?"

Angel's eyes practically roll out of his head. "Please, don't bullshit me. We all know that everyone lies about something." And in his case, lying comes with an ease that shouldn't seem so natural. The pessimistic tone gives away more than he intends, though.

"I already told you why I didn't want to be there," he reiterates, lips quirked despite the exasperated sigh Warren releases. "But if it needs to be said again: I've got no need for career advice. Give me a different mandatory class or something."

He knows all too well that it doesn't work that way, but he's sure going to try.

Rogue had already met Dr. Masters. She was in her history class, a senior student. Though Liz had asked the class if they had any questions, Rogue had thought it was a better idea to not draw attention to herself, and speak with their teacher privately after class. Which, here they were.

As Rogue approaches, she can hear the sounds of Dolly Parton, and she smiles to herself. That already seemed a very good sign as she gingerly knocked on the door frame before stepping inside.

"Dr. Masters? Hey, I'm Rogue- I'm in your senior history class? I was hoping maybe we could talk a little?" Every statement comes out a question as she takes a few ginger steps into the office. "If you're not busy, I mean."

To Liz Masters every one of the students in this school mattered, it being her job to look after the young talents being nurtured here. But to Mystique there were only two lives that she valued, one of whom had just stepped through the office door. Turning her screen to a Word lesson planner with a quick click of her mouse, Liz gave the new arrival a warm smile, waving for Rogue to come in.

"Oh hello, no I'm not at all busy please come in." She gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "I definitely haven't forgotten your name, I'm still getting used to the codenames people use around here but Rogue is definitely unique." Reaching over to the CD player Liz turned down the volume so that the very deliberately chosen music wasn't so loud, and looked expectantly at her student.

"So, what is it I can I help you with?"

Rogue takes a seat, dropping her head slightly at the mention of her name being unique. "Thanks- It was a nickname I used to have, whenever I was in trouble." Which had been quite often. Why she was telling Dr. Masters this, she had no idea. But she seemed easy to talk to, understanding already.

"I wanted to talk to you about the lesson plans. We're studying World War 2... I'd like to be excused from any classes about the Holocaust, if you don't mind." She worries at her gloves, sure that Liz is going to accuse her of being some sort of Holocaust denier. The truth is potentially worse. But also not something easily spoken about.

There are some people who are just naturally easy to talk to and it seems like Liz is one of them, there's an easiness to her smile, a warmth in her eyes that just encourage others to confide in her. Perhaps it's what's made her such a successful ~~infiltrator~~teacher.

"I see, well I hope you haven't been getting into any trouble here?" Liz grins, half-jokingly, her smile fading a little bit at the request, it definitely being a first in her teaching career.

"Oh, can I ask why?" She blinked in confusion, cocking her head sympathetically and giving Rogue an encouraging look to go on, already guessing what the girl would say.

Rogue finds herself matching the grin. "Only a little," she returns with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

She nods, because of course she'd need to explain. She wasn't mad about it. It was just the way it was. "Uhm- I don't know if anyone told you about my powers, but part of it is that I absorb memories of people I touch..." She swallows. "I have a lot of memories from a man who was held at Auschwitz. I don't wanna give those memories a reason to get stronger or anything. They're, ah, really hard to deal with."

Liz's jaw drops at the admission, clearly at a loss about what to say for a moment before finally managing. "Oh goodness that's really awful, Rogue I'm so sorry." Liz leans forward to give Rogue's gloved hand a compassionate squeeze.

"Well I can excuse you from those classes, but are you really sure that's what you want?" She pauses for a moment, stopping to chew anxiously on her lip for a moment before continuing. "I can only imagine what's in your mind and how terrible it must be, but if they're already hard to deal with then perhaps confronting them is better than letting them eat away at you?"

Besides, how would the girl accept how awful humans could be if she refused to accept that glaring truth as shown in Erik's memories?

The touch earns a sharp recoil from Rogue, followed by a sheepish look as if to apologize. It wasn't personal. It was just her powers.

Rogue presses her lips together, unconsciously mimicking Liz's actions. She knows it's silly, to a degree. They're just memories, and they aren't her own. But so often she feels like they are. Like she was that little boy looking at the coin.

"Maybe?" she offers, looking up just a little. "I mean- I got a lot of other memories, but those're... probably the worst ones." Of the ones that aren't her own.

For a moment Liz obviously didn't understand why Rogue would recoil and looks a little hurt, understanding following a moment later as she folded her arms, looking equally apologetic.

"Of course and it's only natural to want to suppress them but if you do it'll only make it worse. If it helps you could try talking about them and I could give you some context, or you could talk with someone you feel comfortable with? A boyfriend perhaps?" Liz grinned and gave a little wink.

She had an instinct that Rogue wouldn't want to discuss Magneto's memories with boyscout Drake considering their content whether in Auschwitz or the bedroom, something that would only highlight the problems in a relationship of not being able to touch. But it never hurt to give someone only one option dressed up to look like two.

Her boyfriend? rogue raises an eyebrow and tries hard not to scoff. “no- it’s not something I’d wanna talk with him about. He already worries too much as-is.” And talking about the heavy memories, even those of the older man in a very different context, would probably only give him the much needed push away from her.

“Besides, he already blames himself for the fact I’ve got ‘em in the first place.” Bobby had told her to run and she had. At least the person she thought was Bobby. Later they had discussed and realized it wasn’t him. But Bobby still blamed himself. Not that she did in the least.

"I see, well if there's anything you'd like to discuss with me I'll help you as much as I can. In the meantime, how about this, I'll have a really careful think about what I'll put in the lessons and you come to the first one to see whether you it helps, deal?" It seemed like a nice compromise, taking into account Rogue's request but actually circumventing it entirely.

In the meantime it wasn't hard to guess what Rogue was getting at regarding Bobby Drake. The boy apparently (and needlessly) blamed himself for her impersonation of him, but Liz wouldn't know that and Mystique hadn't either until now, a useful little nugget that she immediately committed to memory. "Was he responsible?" She asked carefully, clearly not wanting to pry if Rogue didn't want to talk about it, but ready to offer support if needed.

rogue considered it. The suggestion was a fair compromise and she nodded. “I think that sounds alright.” Hopefully she didn’t get into anything too awful, but considering the topic, she wasn’t too hopeful.

“God no- he didn’t have anything to do with it. Our friendship was taken advantage of. I was
Fooled by someone posing as him, simple as that.” Shapeshifters suck.

"Good." Liz smiled encouragingly, reaching for a tin of cookies that she kept on hand to give to students who might need a pick-me-up and offering one to Rogue.

"You couldn't tell?" Liz looked visibly confused about how Rogue could have mistaken someone else for her own boyfriend, but didn't pry any further, plucking a cookie for herself and dunking it in her mug of coffee.

Gingerly, she reaches for one of the cookies. She doesn't remove her gloves.

She shakes her head. "No- there's a shapeshifter-- I didn't even know they were looking for me in the first place-- and somehow she knew we were friends. After... an incident the night before, she took his form and told me that everyone was mad at me. That I should leave.

"So I did." Absentmindedly, she puts her hand on her chest where Logan's claws had pierced her sternum.

"A shapeshifter? That's freaky." Liz looks disturbed that there's someone with powers like that out there, let alone that they're clearly being misused ~~including at that very moment~~.

"And neither of you've been able to quite forget it?" She asked gently, knowing what that gesture meant, having felt the cut of those awfully sharp claws herself, but deliberately interpreting it to think Rogue felt sick about it.

"That must have made it harder with him? Particularly if you can't touch." Liz smiled hitched a little, the topic obviously affecting her, but she continued in the interest of helping empathise with her student. "I have a similar problem."

She knew it wasn't nice to say it, but Mystique looked pretty freaky, too. Some sort of weird snake, more fluid than solid. "And she happens to be one of the worst ones." It'd be different of she was on their side. But Mystique was nothing but bad.

She shakes her head. "No. I got really hurt, after I left campus. Dr. Grey told me I flatlined..." Rogue swallows. Logan had saved life her for the second time in 24 hours. ~~At least she'd saved his life first~~.

"I... I guess. I thought we were past it." she sighs and runs her hands through her hair. At Liz's admission, Rogue pauses and looks up. 'You- you do?" She leans forward.

"Damn." Liz murmurs sympathetically, forgetting her language in front of a student for a moment at the revelation.

"That's very tough Rogue, I can only imagine what you've been through on both counts." She says softly, there being a distinct tone in her voice that if Rogue ever wanted to talk about it then Liz would be happy to listen and help.

"Yeah hang on I'll show you..." Liz nods enthusiastically, closing her eyes and screwing up her face in concentration as...nothing happens. After a moment Liz opens one eye looks down at herself and lets out an irritated, "shoot!"

"Thank you." There's more than a surprising amount of gratitude in Rogue's words as she looks at her new teacher with clear green eyes. She could hear between the lines, and the offer, even if unspoken, was appreciated.

It'd be good, maybe. To have someone to talk to that hadn't actually been there for the whole debacle.

Rogue leans forward, lips pursing slightly as she waits to see what she can do. When nothing happens, she offers a sympathetic grimace. "It's alright. Stuff happens." People couldn't perform. That's why they were here: to learn. It was a school, after all.

Raven's not exactly one to go out of her way to be friendly, but she should probably at least introduce herself to the other teachers here and make the attempt at being personable? If she must. She knocks tentatively on the other teacher's door before stepping inside. She's not hiding her own form, pretending to be someone she's not.

No, instead Mystique will see her younger self looking very blue, but also very clothed in her X-man uniform. She's only just finished with a Danger Room session.

"Hello, you're the new History teacher, right? Dr. Masters... I don't believe we've met."

It's fair to say that the last person anyone expects to walk through the door is themselves, so that for just a split second Liz pauses in glancing up from perusing a textbook, covering that momentary lapse with the surprise of someone seeing a blue woman for the first time.

"We haven't, I think I'd remember meeting anyone who looked like you." Liz smiled, getting over her shock and reaching out a hand to shake. "I'm sorry but I don't know your name...?

The only question now was whether her younger self is as skilled as she in seeing through a lie, perhaps not given the X-paraphernalia that she appeared to wear as a badge of honour.

The surprise is expected, is something she's used to by now. It doesn't stop the slight irritation that spikes in her each time it happens.

Calling her uniform a badge of honor is a bit of a stretch, seeing as she's only just come back to it. And mostly out of concern for the children being forced into war. So many had died already, she meant to see these ones were ready for the next time. She wants to be the voice of reality in juxtaposition to Charles' ever present optimism.

There's something about this woman, she can't quite place it. It feels like deja vu or some other odd pang that she can't quite place. Perhaps it's her ever constant mistrust of those she doesn't know, but she's not so sure of her or her words.

"Raven." she's watching her back closely, as though trying to work out some difficult math problem. "I train the students in using their powers as a team."

AKA, she tosses them in the Danger Room and teaches them how not to die horribly.

That flash of irritation doesn't escape her, and for a moment she was almost sorry about the deception almost.

It's good to see that living in this place and adopting that ridiculous emblem hadn't entirely dulled her younger version's wits, that guarded look her counterpart is giving a clear sign of mistrust.

"It's nice to meet you Raven, please call me Liz." She smiles warmly, trying to get past that initial surprise (and the mistrust) by showing the warmth of her assumed personality, nodding along in clear interest at the description of what her counterpart does.

"That must be very interesting, I have a theory that powers can affect the psychology of the mutant that wields them, I'd be really interested in seeing if that's the case." In fact she couldn't care less, but the information would help to complete a picture of the students powers and their psychologies, and the quicker she got it the sooner she can tear down everything Wolverine was trying to build.

Edited 2018-06-01 18:18 (UTC)

The younger Raven lets out a small laugh, a touch self-deprecating, "Interesting theory." Her tone makes it sounds like anything but. "I'd just request you don't try and test that theory on me."

Because her powers most certainly had an effect on her psychology and she'd prefer no one take the time to get that in writing. A woman who could look like anyone and yet was unable for so long to look like herself? That does sound like a psychologist's wet dream.

"What do you plan to do with what you find?"

She's also not entirely sure she's okay with someone coming in and treating the students like lab rats, but her opinion on that isn't fully formed yet.

Liz Masters' Ford Focus turned out of the gates of the Xavier School, heading through the back lanes of Westchester and onto the freeway which would take her to the foothills of the Appalachians. It was the weekend and taking advantage of the days off, Liz had decided to spend them hiking in the mountains, or at least that was what she had told anyone at the Mansion who had asked. The truth was entirely different, but that was something none in the school even suspected.

Stopping her car at the side of a quiet potholed road leading to nowhere really, Liz locked it, and without bothering to collect her hiking gear set off into the hills. She walked for nearly an hour, heading deeper and deeper into the forest, until finally she judged herself far enough from prying eyes that she need no longer hide who she really was.

A wave of blue scales engulfed pale skin and hiking gear alike, any trace of Liz Masters vanishing into the taut muscle and sleek physique of an entirely different, far more deadly woman. For a moment Mystique stretched, luxuriating in the feeling of being back in her own body after so many weeks of living within the limiting body of the schoolteacher, bending over backwards in a way that would break the back of an Olympic gymnast before righting herself, determination burning in those hellish yellow eyes.

Flesh and bone flowed and changed, her body realigning outwardly from female to male before she pushed the change deeper, willing her bones and internal organs to change to those of Warren Worthington. The biggest change were the wings, great extensions of muscle and bone, utterly alien to any shape she had added to a human form before, her eyes running over the feathered appendages as she flexed them experimentally.

Recalling the exact movements that had let Worthington fly, she mimicked them in sequence and was rewarded by being lifted off the ground, a little unsteadily at first, but that was only to be expected, practise would make perfect. Again and again she launched herself into the air, twisting and turning through the air, gaining height and control with each attempt, learning, adapting, slowly mastering the mechanics of flying in a humanoid form, exhilarated by the speed and sensations of flying, a smile playing at her borrowed lips.

After a while she returned to the forest floor, and cast her senses inward, focussing on her cells and the changes that her body had made to mimic Warren’s, cataloguing the changes, memorising them separately so that she could reproduce them if needed. The boy’s physical mutations were an unknowing gift, one that she would put to good use over the decades to come she had no doubt.

Once more, her scales rippled, her body pushing out feathery wings similar to Worthington’s, and after taking a moment to acclimatise to the difference between Worthington’s own winged form and her own winged physique she took to the air once more, enjoying the feel of the wind on her scales, the pure freedom of flying which before she had only been able to experience in avian form. Landing amidst the branches of the treetops, she willed her wings to change, white feathers giving way to leathery bat wings, much more to her liking than the white fluff of Worthington’s wings, putting them to the test thoroughly over the hours that followed, practising diving and maneuvering. She would have to make sure she watched Warren closely the next time he flew to be sure she had copied all the boy's skills and not missed anything.

The evening of the following day a tired but happy looking Liz Masters pulled back into the Mansion garage and made her way up to her room on the staff floor, and if she happened to catch sight of Warren on her way up, a strange half smile lingered on her lips for a second before she was gone.

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The Cuckoo in the Canary's nest [Open]

guess who this brat is

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Standalone (Closed. Following the meeting with Warren)