( she'd only been in london for a few years -- been back in london, she should say. vanessa had been living in the woods for the past few decades, in the cottage that her mentor had left her. the quiet life had suited her but, as was inevitable, vanessa was lonely. solitude was cruel on the heart.
her life was still relatively quiet, vanessa finding work as a spiritualist. it was less popular nowadays than it had used to be but there were still people wishing for knowledge or peace. it was risky, hiding her mutation in plain sight, but it was all that she could do for now.
she was getting ready to close her shop for the evening when the chime sounded, alerting her to someone entering. vanessa moved through to the front of the shop, quiet steps, unassuming manner )
( It had started out almost like an itch. Charles had been exploring London before the start of term, finding little trinkets and terribly old books to fill the flat with for as long as it took the pub to become a socially acceptable option. He almost hadn't noticed it, and presumably wouldn't have had he been paying less attention.
But there, between the frantic worries about a child's cough, and the guilt of a man cheating on his wife, he'd heard something other.
Charles hadn't been sure at first, but he'd tracked the noise for a while now, caught enough that he'd been able to piece together an answer. A mutant. Someone like him! The excitement had almost overwhelmed, but he'd waited it out a few days. Enough to be certain. It's only now he feels brave enough to approach.
Apparently right when the shop was closing. Still, he puts on a bright smile. )
Hello. Sorry, I didn't realise you were shutting up.
( it doesn't take long for vanessa to sense that something is different about him and, as useful as it has been in the past, she sometimes wishes that she could turn it off, remain oblivious to some things in the world.
the more that he talks, the longer that he is in her presence, the clearer that that picture about him becomes. he's a mutant. it's a feeling that vanessa has felt in only three people before, something that she rarely gets to recognise. none of them are in her life currently though james has a habit of popping back when she least expects it.
her head tips up to him wondering now if this visit was purposeful or coincidental-- had he known before entering her shop that she was gifted? it makes her words now a little pricklier, her gaze drifting from his as she continues her business about closing up )
That's what the time would indicate. Was there something that you wanted?
( she could tend him quickly if it was coincidence or find out his intentions otherwise )
( Charles lets his gaze wander around the shop as though looking for inspiration. He's sure of it now, the same way he's sure she's quick to distrust his purpose here. That isn't exactly surprising, but this time it's more potent. He feels a thrill of excitement despite the negative nature of her thoughts, ridiculously and blissfully happy that there is someone like him.
He wonders what her powers are. )
I was looking for something. A gift. For my --. ( He doesn't have any friends, christ. For a telepath he's a shoddy liar. ) My professor. The start of a new term and all. Impressions to be made and all.
( her head lifts up briefly, tipping in his direction to assess his reaction, to see what it is that he's looking at. she could call his bluff on the reason why he's here, uncertain as to whether he's a terrible liar or just nervous, but vanessa would rather not reveal her own power. even if she knows he had one )
That's quite an impression.
( there was much about her shop but nothing normal. she'd been called a witch enough in the past so now vanessa embraced it, hiding behind it. spiritualism, mediums, tarot, crystals. there was enough to buy or to get her to do )
He's committed to it now. His hand twitches at his side but doesn't rise, even though he'd quite like to read her mind. Or maybe remove the embarrassing altercation from her memory altogether. But he finds he can't quite grasp onto it. It's a little like trying to clutch at smoke. )
I thought it might be a little different.
( He steps closer to one of the displays, his back to her as he peers over the collection. Truthfully, he finds all of this stuff absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn't want to offend her. )
(there are seconds before she responds. had anyone else come into her shop with such a request, wanting to find something for their professor, vanessa would have simply helped them. here she finds herself stuck on questioning his motives when it could be that same, simple request. he likely doesn't know that she's a mutant.
so she takes a breath, moving around her own counter but not over to his display, walking across her shop )
Energy.
( she crouches when she gets there, pulling out a larger tray of crystals that she lays on the top of the counter )
Each has different properties, different meanings in what they can provide.
( on the tray are crystals in their simpler form, the simple stone. there are some clusters, some tumblestones, some that have been fashioned into more decorative items -- almost like a paperweight )
( His tone dips without his meaning to. There's something about this shop that rubs him the wrong way, makes him want to sit her down and explain just how silly it all is. It's rude of him, he knows it. So he bites his tongue against it and looks over the stones. )
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( mentis )
her life was still relatively quiet, vanessa finding work as a spiritualist. it was less popular nowadays than it had used to be but there were still people wishing for knowledge or peace. it was risky, hiding her mutation in plain sight, but it was all that she could do for now.
she was getting ready to close her shop for the evening when the chime sounded, alerting her to someone entering. vanessa moved through to the front of the shop, quiet steps, unassuming manner )
Can I help you?
( it was too late for a customer )
no subject
But there, between the frantic worries about a child's cough, and the guilt of a man cheating on his wife, he'd heard something other.
Charles hadn't been sure at first, but he'd tracked the noise for a while now, caught enough that he'd been able to piece together an answer. A mutant. Someone like him! The excitement had almost overwhelmed, but he'd waited it out a few days. Enough to be certain. It's only now he feels brave enough to approach.
Apparently right when the shop was closing. Still, he puts on a bright smile. )
Hello. Sorry, I didn't realise you were shutting up.
no subject
the more that he talks, the longer that he is in her presence, the clearer that that picture about him becomes. he's a mutant. it's a feeling that vanessa has felt in only three people before, something that she rarely gets to recognise. none of them are in her life currently though james has a habit of popping back when she least expects it.
her head tips up to him wondering now if this visit was purposeful or coincidental-- had he known before entering her shop that she was gifted? it makes her words now a little pricklier, her gaze drifting from his as she continues her business about closing up )
That's what the time would indicate. Was there something that you wanted?
( she could tend him quickly if it was coincidence or find out his intentions otherwise )
no subject
( Charles lets his gaze wander around the shop as though looking for inspiration. He's sure of it now, the same way he's sure she's quick to distrust his purpose here. That isn't exactly surprising, but this time it's more potent. He feels a thrill of excitement despite the negative nature of her thoughts, ridiculously and blissfully happy that there is someone like him.
He wonders what her powers are. )
I was looking for something. A gift. For my --. ( He doesn't have any friends, christ. For a telepath he's a shoddy liar. ) My professor. The start of a new term and all. Impressions to be made and all.
no subject
( her head lifts up briefly, tipping in his direction to assess his reaction, to see what it is that he's looking at. she could call his bluff on the reason why he's here, uncertain as to whether he's a terrible liar or just nervous, but vanessa would rather not reveal her own power. even if she knows he had one )
That's quite an impression.
( there was much about her shop but nothing normal. she'd been called a witch enough in the past so now vanessa embraced it, hiding behind it. spiritualism, mediums, tarot, crystals. there was enough to buy or to get her to do )
no subject
( Bugger. Shit. Bollocks.
He's committed to it now. His hand twitches at his side but doesn't rise, even though he'd quite like to read her mind. Or maybe remove the embarrassing altercation from her memory altogether. But he finds he can't quite grasp onto it. It's a little like trying to clutch at smoke. )
I thought it might be a little different.
( He steps closer to one of the displays, his back to her as he peers over the collection. Truthfully, he finds all of this stuff absolutely ridiculous, but he doesn't want to offend her. )
What would you suggest?
no subject
so she takes a breath, moving around her own counter but not over to his display, walking across her shop )
Energy.
( she crouches when she gets there, pulling out a larger tray of crystals that she lays on the top of the counter )
Each has different properties, different meanings in what they can provide.
( on the tray are crystals in their simpler form, the simple stone. there are some clusters, some tumblestones, some that have been fashioned into more decorative items -- almost like a paperweight )
no subject
( His tone dips without his meaning to. There's something about this shop that rubs him the wrong way, makes him want to sit her down and explain just how silly it all is. It's rude of him, he knows it. So he bites his tongue against it and looks over the stones. )
Healing and the like?
( Maybe he should have had a drink first. )
They're very -- pretty.
no subject
( he didn't need to believe, not when the item wasn't for him, but scoffing at her work, beliefs-- well, he wouldn't end up with anything )
Whether or not you believe doesn't matter. This is for your Professor after all.
( she's absolutely not calling him out on that. maybe a tiny bit )