Disclaimer: I don't own X-men. Don't own nothing. Except for Opal. She is mine. Take her, and I will kill you.
P.S.: Thanks soooo much to Orphelia-Rose for Opal's new mutant name; Mimic.
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For the second time in a row, Opal awoke in a soft, warm bed. For the second time, she wondered where she was. For the second time, she was slowly brought back from sleep by a voice. But this time, the voice belonged to a woman.
"Oh, I see you are awake. Good," the voice said. It was smooth and soft. A gentle voice. Pleasant to listen to. Opal blinked her eyes open groggily, and looked up into the face of a very pretty woman. Her skin was dark, but her hair was white and flowing. A strange combination, but just right for her. Opal sat up. "Welcome back," the voice said. Opal put a hand to her temple, as if she could stop the headache that was quickly developing. "You have been unconscious for three days, that is, since we found you. It could have been up to a week. That's what the Professor said." Opal was to busy with her headache to wonder who this 'professor' was. "Come on," the voice was speaking again, "I'll take you to the professor. He wanted to meet you." Opal got up, feeling rather dazed, then looked down at her outfit. She scowled at it. Opal had been wearing the same clothes for days, and was much in need of new attire. And a shower. She really wanted a shower. "If you like," the woman said, "I could take you shopping this afternoon, I can tell that you will be needing some new clothes." Opal smiled. "Oh," the woman added, as if in afterthought, "My name is Ororo, but most people call me storm."
Opal followed Storm down a white hallway. Was she in a hospital? No. Opal could sense many feelings around her. Mutant feelings. Mostly coming from above. Another home, then? No, most of the feelings were cheerful ones. The worst were a few students worried about an exam. Where was she?
The pair kept walking. They ascended in n elevator, coming out into a hardwood-floored hall. Teens were walking everywhere. Opal put a hand to her head, trying to block out the searing pain that was throbbing in her temple. They were all mutants. Control, she thought, I must learn control. Opal swallowed. Ororo looked over her shoulder.
"Are you alright?" She asked. Opal nodded, and kept walking. Ororo looked purely concerned, but Opal took no notice to the motherly glance. Just because people looked concerned didn't mean they were. Storm walked through a set of great double-doors and into what appeared to be a classroom. Students were just getting up to leave. A cute boy with blondish hair brushed her arm lightly as he passed. Opal stiffened. She exhaled a small breath of icy steam. The boy looked at her oddly, as did the gloved girl beside him. Opal looked down at her feet. The rest of the class hurried passed; not taking any notice to the girl that had just entered the room. Though some did greet Ororo with a small wave, smile, or hello. Ororo responded to each with a slight smile of her own. Once the teens had all left, a man that Opal had not yet noticed held up a book.
"Physics," he said. Opal looked at him, her face unreadable and blank. "It is a good thing that you woke when you did, Opal. I was beginning top think that we'd loose you. From what I received from you, you were the sole cause to the forest-fire that graced the mountains a few days ago. And you were at the core of the gas-pipeline explosion, as well. So much damage. Ah, well. That is what you are here for, isn't it? To control your powers?" Opal just stared. How had he known? Forest fire. She had started a forest fire? And a pipeline explosion. All within the coarse of an hour, probably. She returned her gaze to her worn black sneakers. He smiled that warm, welcoming smile of his. She did not return it. Instead she glared at him. "I understand that you are scared. Angry. You fell quite alone. Don't you, Opal?" She kept on glaring. Ororo left the room, closing the doors behind her. The man emerged from behind the desk. He was in a silver wheel chair. He moved closer to her. "Come with me, Opal. I would like to show you my school." Opal looked blankly at him. A school? But this place was full of mutants. What about the law? All mutants had to be reiterated, and put into a home. But, this man, he was a mutant. Opal could tell. His emotions, as all mutants were, were more. . . complex than humans. He laughed slightly. "So many questions," he whispered, but Opal heard it though he was shouting. Then his lips stopped moving, but what he was saying echoed shrilly in Opal's mind, "Maybe I will have time to answer them all." A telepath. Opal was not startled. She knew what this man could do the moment she laid eyes on him. He was probably the most powerful mutant that she had met so far.
He turned his chair, and led her out into the hallway. Only a few students were coming by now. Opal swallowed. She could tell where every student in the school was. What they were feeling. What their powers were. The lights flickered. A small flame, like a candle, started on the professor's sleeve, but he merely blew it out and led her further down the hall. Opal swallowed. Control.
"Now," he began, "This is a school for mutants. The reason that the mutant registration law does not affect us is that, to the public, we are merely a school for gifted youngsters. But, as I know you sense, we are much more than that.
"Most of my students are runaways. Terrified of their own powers. Some with gifts so extraordinary that they are a danger to those around them, and themselves. Like you, for example. Yes, Opal, I know. We have been living in near-constant blackouts for the past few days. Strong winds and small earthquakes are not uncommon as well. Don't feel bad, it is not your fault. You are not the first. In fact, Lindsay, one of the empaths here is in tears constantly for the first few days before exams, because of all the tension. You'll learn to cope, and, until then, we shall all have to carry flashlights in our pockets." He had meant it as a joke, but Opal felt terrible all the same. Earthquakes and blackouts, even while she was unconscious. It would be far worse while she was awake. Opal swallowed. They were coming towards a place that had many students inside it all at once. She took a breath, as if steeling herself to go underwater, and followed the professor into a huge room. Air-hockey and fuse ball tables were plentiful. A big-screen T.V. was against one wall, surrounded by couches filled with teens. More teens were just sitting on benches around tables, laughing and talking. Despite all the cheerfulness in the room, Opal collapsed. It was just too much. All of them were mutants. Telepathy, telekinesis, fire, ice, water, and many more. They knowledge of countless powers filled her brain, pushing out all thoughts. It hurt so badly. Opal swallowed hard as, for the second time in recent memory, she writhed on the floor, completely out of control of her powers. The ground shook violently. The lights flickered on and off, as if imitating strobe lights. The T.V. exploded. Fire started up, but blazed only in a small circle around Opal's tiny, compact figure on the carpet. Everyone in the room grabbed onto something, couches, tables, each other, so not to be tipped off their feet in the tremor. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. Nothing, save for a scorched spot it the carpet, and the broken T.V., gave witness to what had happened. All that were present looked around for the cause, their eyes settling on the panting figure on the floor, huddled in a ball, as if it was trying to escape. 'I'm sorry.' She shot mentally at the professor, 'I can't control it, But I try. I really do.' 'I know,' he shot back at her, 'I know.'
~ * ~
Once again, Opal woke in a comfortable bed. She immediately started to cry at the thought of the previous day. The professor had explained that it was all right, and that he would pay for a new. T.V. and that no one was angry, but she still felt depressed. What a great first impression she had made. She dried her eyes and rolled over, only to see a gruff-looking man sitting on a chair beside the bed she had been given. She had her own room. Opal knew she was lucky to be given her own space when most people had to share, but she also knew the reasons for it. Everyone knew that the strange weather had been her doing, and were mortally afraid to go near her. A
She looked at the gruff man quizzically.
"Hey, kid," He said, "Glad to see your up. The Professor said I was to wait until you woke, then give them to you. He said they would help. The man handed her a small bottle, and a note, then left. Odd, Opal thought, but then merely opened the letter.
Dear Opal,
I hope that you are feeling well. In the bottle are pills that a friend of mine created for empaths. They help to block out emotions that you do not want. When you wake up every morning, take one with a glass of water. Take one before you go to bed as well. They should help. Your time table is enclosed as well.
Professor Xavier
Opal opened the bottle and took out a single pill. It was blue. She popped it in her mouth, and swallowed it, with the assistance of the glass of water she had placed on her bedside table the night before. She immediately felt her headache subsiding. She smiled.
P.S.: Thanks soooo much to Orphelia-Rose for Opal's new mutant name; Mimic.
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For the second time in a row, Opal awoke in a soft, warm bed. For the second time, she wondered where she was. For the second time, she was slowly brought back from sleep by a voice. But this time, the voice belonged to a woman.
"Oh, I see you are awake. Good," the voice said. It was smooth and soft. A gentle voice. Pleasant to listen to. Opal blinked her eyes open groggily, and looked up into the face of a very pretty woman. Her skin was dark, but her hair was white and flowing. A strange combination, but just right for her. Opal sat up. "Welcome back," the voice said. Opal put a hand to her temple, as if she could stop the headache that was quickly developing. "You have been unconscious for three days, that is, since we found you. It could have been up to a week. That's what the Professor said." Opal was to busy with her headache to wonder who this 'professor' was. "Come on," the voice was speaking again, "I'll take you to the professor. He wanted to meet you." Opal got up, feeling rather dazed, then looked down at her outfit. She scowled at it. Opal had been wearing the same clothes for days, and was much in need of new attire. And a shower. She really wanted a shower. "If you like," the woman said, "I could take you shopping this afternoon, I can tell that you will be needing some new clothes." Opal smiled. "Oh," the woman added, as if in afterthought, "My name is Ororo, but most people call me storm."
Opal followed Storm down a white hallway. Was she in a hospital? No. Opal could sense many feelings around her. Mutant feelings. Mostly coming from above. Another home, then? No, most of the feelings were cheerful ones. The worst were a few students worried about an exam. Where was she?
The pair kept walking. They ascended in n elevator, coming out into a hardwood-floored hall. Teens were walking everywhere. Opal put a hand to her head, trying to block out the searing pain that was throbbing in her temple. They were all mutants. Control, she thought, I must learn control. Opal swallowed. Ororo looked over her shoulder.
"Are you alright?" She asked. Opal nodded, and kept walking. Ororo looked purely concerned, but Opal took no notice to the motherly glance. Just because people looked concerned didn't mean they were. Storm walked through a set of great double-doors and into what appeared to be a classroom. Students were just getting up to leave. A cute boy with blondish hair brushed her arm lightly as he passed. Opal stiffened. She exhaled a small breath of icy steam. The boy looked at her oddly, as did the gloved girl beside him. Opal looked down at her feet. The rest of the class hurried passed; not taking any notice to the girl that had just entered the room. Though some did greet Ororo with a small wave, smile, or hello. Ororo responded to each with a slight smile of her own. Once the teens had all left, a man that Opal had not yet noticed held up a book.
"Physics," he said. Opal looked at him, her face unreadable and blank. "It is a good thing that you woke when you did, Opal. I was beginning top think that we'd loose you. From what I received from you, you were the sole cause to the forest-fire that graced the mountains a few days ago. And you were at the core of the gas-pipeline explosion, as well. So much damage. Ah, well. That is what you are here for, isn't it? To control your powers?" Opal just stared. How had he known? Forest fire. She had started a forest fire? And a pipeline explosion. All within the coarse of an hour, probably. She returned her gaze to her worn black sneakers. He smiled that warm, welcoming smile of his. She did not return it. Instead she glared at him. "I understand that you are scared. Angry. You fell quite alone. Don't you, Opal?" She kept on glaring. Ororo left the room, closing the doors behind her. The man emerged from behind the desk. He was in a silver wheel chair. He moved closer to her. "Come with me, Opal. I would like to show you my school." Opal looked blankly at him. A school? But this place was full of mutants. What about the law? All mutants had to be reiterated, and put into a home. But, this man, he was a mutant. Opal could tell. His emotions, as all mutants were, were more. . . complex than humans. He laughed slightly. "So many questions," he whispered, but Opal heard it though he was shouting. Then his lips stopped moving, but what he was saying echoed shrilly in Opal's mind, "Maybe I will have time to answer them all." A telepath. Opal was not startled. She knew what this man could do the moment she laid eyes on him. He was probably the most powerful mutant that she had met so far.
He turned his chair, and led her out into the hallway. Only a few students were coming by now. Opal swallowed. She could tell where every student in the school was. What they were feeling. What their powers were. The lights flickered. A small flame, like a candle, started on the professor's sleeve, but he merely blew it out and led her further down the hall. Opal swallowed. Control.
"Now," he began, "This is a school for mutants. The reason that the mutant registration law does not affect us is that, to the public, we are merely a school for gifted youngsters. But, as I know you sense, we are much more than that.
"Most of my students are runaways. Terrified of their own powers. Some with gifts so extraordinary that they are a danger to those around them, and themselves. Like you, for example. Yes, Opal, I know. We have been living in near-constant blackouts for the past few days. Strong winds and small earthquakes are not uncommon as well. Don't feel bad, it is not your fault. You are not the first. In fact, Lindsay, one of the empaths here is in tears constantly for the first few days before exams, because of all the tension. You'll learn to cope, and, until then, we shall all have to carry flashlights in our pockets." He had meant it as a joke, but Opal felt terrible all the same. Earthquakes and blackouts, even while she was unconscious. It would be far worse while she was awake. Opal swallowed. They were coming towards a place that had many students inside it all at once. She took a breath, as if steeling herself to go underwater, and followed the professor into a huge room. Air-hockey and fuse ball tables were plentiful. A big-screen T.V. was against one wall, surrounded by couches filled with teens. More teens were just sitting on benches around tables, laughing and talking. Despite all the cheerfulness in the room, Opal collapsed. It was just too much. All of them were mutants. Telepathy, telekinesis, fire, ice, water, and many more. They knowledge of countless powers filled her brain, pushing out all thoughts. It hurt so badly. Opal swallowed hard as, for the second time in recent memory, she writhed on the floor, completely out of control of her powers. The ground shook violently. The lights flickered on and off, as if imitating strobe lights. The T.V. exploded. Fire started up, but blazed only in a small circle around Opal's tiny, compact figure on the carpet. Everyone in the room grabbed onto something, couches, tables, each other, so not to be tipped off their feet in the tremor. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. Nothing, save for a scorched spot it the carpet, and the broken T.V., gave witness to what had happened. All that were present looked around for the cause, their eyes settling on the panting figure on the floor, huddled in a ball, as if it was trying to escape. 'I'm sorry.' She shot mentally at the professor, 'I can't control it, But I try. I really do.' 'I know,' he shot back at her, 'I know.'
~ * ~
Once again, Opal woke in a comfortable bed. She immediately started to cry at the thought of the previous day. The professor had explained that it was all right, and that he would pay for a new. T.V. and that no one was angry, but she still felt depressed. What a great first impression she had made. She dried her eyes and rolled over, only to see a gruff-looking man sitting on a chair beside the bed she had been given. She had her own room. Opal knew she was lucky to be given her own space when most people had to share, but she also knew the reasons for it. Everyone knew that the strange weather had been her doing, and were mortally afraid to go near her. A
She looked at the gruff man quizzically.
"Hey, kid," He said, "Glad to see your up. The Professor said I was to wait until you woke, then give them to you. He said they would help. The man handed her a small bottle, and a note, then left. Odd, Opal thought, but then merely opened the letter.
Dear Opal,
I hope that you are feeling well. In the bottle are pills that a friend of mine created for empaths. They help to block out emotions that you do not want. When you wake up every morning, take one with a glass of water. Take one before you go to bed as well. They should help. Your time table is enclosed as well.
Professor Xavier
Opal opened the bottle and took out a single pill. It was blue. She popped it in her mouth, and swallowed it, with the assistance of the glass of water she had placed on her bedside table the night before. She immediately felt her headache subsiding. She smiled.