but that's how we like it, and that's all we want

[atthemercyof]

[ He wakes up, and he's not where he should be. Gone is Charles Xavier's bedroom, the warm press of a body beside him, and in it's place is - well, Erik thinks it's a library. He pushes himself up off the mattress on the floor, black wood shelves looming into view. He doesn't know what's happening, only that he feels a little outside it all. Nobody could have moved him in his sleep, and if they wanted to, they wouldn't leave him somewhere like this.

He turns around to glance at the room twice, moves a little closer to the shelves to draw his fingers across the spines, not plucking them free just yet. There's a sound, somewhere outside the room, and he abandons the examination in favour of opening the door, taking the hall at a quick, but not frantic pace. He's curious, which is bizzare in and of itself.

Though he doesn't look into any of the rooms he's passing, it does feel like there's life in here, wherever here is. He hears the noise again, traces it through. ]

Comments

[oldcardigans]

[ Charles should really do this more often; it's been a long while since he's taken his ability and directed it inward to sift through his recent memories, organize things himself rather than let his brain do so naturally in the deep stages of REM. Pulling thick, memory-laden tomes from the shelves and dropping them to the floor with a resounding thud that shakes the walls, smiling faintly at the thin sheen of sweat on his brow. The sonic shockwaves are expected; any readjustment of memories changes something about the layout of his mind, some more subtle than others depending on how he reorders them or rewrites things to make the events more clear when he recalls them in the waking world.

Singing in his usual light tenor, he's light in his feet, engrossed in selecting the pertinent ones to pull out and dust the covers off with his hands. He has no reason to pay attention to anything but the flutter of cobwebs. He's not exactly expecting visitors anytime soon.

Setting another book down, gentler this time, now that he's in a position to crouch down to his piles. ] Down you go, little one.

[atthemercyof]

[ He finds the source of the noise easily, his concern with the sound melting away into curiosity when he peers inside the room. His first thought, is that this is another projection, that he's really back at home. He banishes it easily, he trusts Charles, he's voiced his concern, there is no reason he would turn his back on all they've talked about and twist Erik up like this.

Is he dreaming? What is this? ]

Charles? [ His voice is soft, almost gets snubbed out by the sound of a book being put down, but it's there. ]

[oldcardigans]

[ Nearly jumping out of his skin, reflexively prepared to shutter his mind and arm the defenses to whatever intruder had dared trespass not only his mind, but by extension Westchester. But his gaze lands on a familiar sight - definitely real, a true representation of his dearest friend projected into his own sanctuary.

Pitched high with surprise. ] Erik! What - how did you get in here? I thought you were asle- oh, that's. Yes, defensive walls must be down.

[ A sudden beaming expression, stepping over the short pile in front of him to get a closer look at Erik. ] How fascinating.

[atthemercyof]

[ There's so much to take him, Charles' surprise and panic giving way to something more honest and pleased, and Erik still doesn't know what's going on, can't quite get the gist from the words he's saying to put the picture together. ]

What's - ? [ Happening? He watches Charles for a moment, forehead furrowing but only in confusion. ] Where are we?

[oldcardigans]

[ Laughing the short, rich laughter of the arrogant sort of sod he is, one hand slips out its pocket to scratch behind his head, hair ruffling and stirring the dust motes drifting through the sun shafts.

Leisurely coming to a stop before him. ] Ah yes, an introduction. I haven't had any visitors in many a year. [ Biting his lower lip in delight first, he grins broadly, carefree and light. ] Erik Lehnsherr, it's my distinct pleasure to welcome you to my mind.

[atthemercyof]

Your - [ He's sleeping with a telepath, what did he expect? He doesn't question it though, just lets his gaze lift, drag along the shelves of books and then back to his glorious, wonderful partner. His voice becomes less cautious now, open interest lighting it. ]

How am I here?

[oldcardigans]

It's good, isn't it? [ Not that Charles had consciously focused on pulling Erik into it, but the telepath looks pleased as punch to have an exceptional guest such as Erik running the mazes, kicking up dust. He has to return to his initial theory, however, to speculate how it happened without his knowledge.

Erik's eyes are lighter here, losing some of their coolness for a warmer, slightly green tint that distracts him for a moment. ] Actually, this has never happened in this way before - if ever I had another's thoughts inside mine, it would be the result of a conscious action on my part. But, this prompts fresh examination. [ Cocking his head. ] Sleep, perhaps? Unusually deep relaxation stemming from a physical and psychic lowering of defenses. It's interesting, isn't it?

[atthemercyof]

Fascinating.

[ And it is, there's open curiosity written right across Erik's face. He can't stop looking, gaze flickering from Charles to the bookshelves and back. Even the fact that Charles is standing doesn't surprise him, not if this is his mind, a more honest projection than before, and he smiles, wide and amused for a second. ]

So am I to believe your mind is - a library? I don't know why I'm surprised. [ For some reason, being the first to arrive unbidden pleases Erik, but he should ask: ] Do you wish me out? I could try and wake up, I suppose.

[oldcardigans]

Yes, a library, save your clever digs about being held together by binding paste. Apologies for the mess, I've only just gotten started.

[ Shifting on his feet, Charles seems to decide something and shuffles closer, hands settling lightly on either side of Erik's waist, absolutely elated that he can do this here, stand toe to toe once more. ] I have no objections to you staying if that's what you want. I've nothing to hide from you if you should feel inclined to meander the halls. [ Then, smile widening. ] I'll be able to pull you back if you find yourself trapped underneath a bookcase somewhere.

[atthemercyof]

It's your mind. [ But he doesn't find himself wanting to go, because this is amazing, this is unlike anything Erik has ever experienced before, and he wants to stay, to find out more. He's inside somebody else's mind, and it's the strangest thing, but the most wonderful.

Because he can't contain it any longer, because Charles' mutation keeps him endlessly guessing. ] This is amazing, Charles.

[oldcardigans]

Well, I suppose I am.

[ Despite his flippant words, Charles flushes with pleasure at the compliment, unused to anyone praising him for his mutation because the layman would normally panic and attempt to put distance between him and Charles. He's not completely desensitized to that sort of cavalier treatment, having only revealed it to a select few people, but Erik seems the only person to actively encourage its use and remain brave in the face of Charles' frankly immense, frightening amount of power.

Meeting his gaze again, albeit with a touch of bashfulness. ] You can stay as long as you like; time works a bit differently here, slower, I've found. If there's anything you'd like to see, you already have the best guide.

[atthemercyof]

Yes. [ He doesn't specify, he wants to see everything, he wants to understand this and cherish it. Smiling at him, reaching out to touch his wrist because he can. ]

Will you show me?

[oldcardigans]

[ Bowing slightly. ] I'm at your disposal.

[ Sliding his hand into Erik's, he gives a little tug, starting to guide him around the pile. ] Arranging these will have to wait a wee bit longer, but I'm overdue anyway.

[ Waving his hand at the packed cases, each groaning with the weight of book upon book. ] I should explain: all of these are memories. Save for one very specific area cordoned off at - well, just elsewhere, all of them belong to me, typically arranged chronologically, since if I tried to type it by emotion there's too much ambiguity. Some are a bit messier, the ones I haven't gotten around to putting together by hand, and when they're unbothered like that, they like to clump together depending on who's in the memory.

[atthemercyof]

The books are your memories? [ Studying his face for a moment. ] You store them? Can you access them? [ It's like a discovery, Erik bursting with questions. Then he chuckles. ] I apologise, it's just - this is impressive, I didn't know you could do this.

[oldcardigans]

No, no, ask your questions. I don't get to answer these ones all that often. [ Flashing a grin, he swings their joined hands a little. ] In short, yes, under normal circumstances anything I can remember can be found here. Older books, the ones falling apart and ink fading, are all harder to decipher and go a bit squiffy if you try peering into them, but it can't be helped. I've tried for years to figure out how to keep the old ones from disappearing, but the only bits that have any permanence are the formative memories.

[ Amiably nudging Erik's shoulder. ] Bit better than looking at photo books, hmm?

[atthemercyof]

[ Leaning into him for the moment. ] Mm. It suits you, your mind being a library.

[ He's still looking around himself with open interest, dragging his gaze along the shelves and back. ]

[oldcardigans]

Because I'm a dusty old fart? [ Better his mind's structure take after that than other, less repressed parts of his personality. He shudders to think of what the appearance of a young sexual savant's would take.

Pausing at the base of a frumpy staircase, half its steps creaky and most of the boards fractured in some way, Charles turns his face up to him, expression clear and honest and the slightest bit amused. ] I suppose our destination would depend on what you'd like to see. What part of the curtain would you most like to be drawn back? Childhood, family, college? Oh please stay away from puberty, it's truly embarrassing.

[atthemercyof]

Oh, now that's just unfair. If you're telling me it's embarrassing, I want to see it. [ He's teasing, the corner of his mouth twitching even though his expression is impassive. ]

[oldcardigans]

Well, yes, if you want to watch me falling over myself to shield thoughts regarding the prettier girls at my private school, by all means, make me hate you. [ A smile tugs at his lips, attempting to match Erik's poker face even though it's in a whole other league than Charles'. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ Laughing, he dips forward to press his lips to Charles' cheek. ] I'll be kind then, I want to see your childhood. Is that acceptable?

[oldcardigans]

[ Melting on the spot would be out of the question, so Charles' hand strokes Erik's cheek before he's pulling back, the sunlight fluttering down from the tiny windows showing more and more golden. ] You aren't going to just back me into a bookshelf and fog up my glasses? [ He blinks and in the next moment there are a pair of librarian's glasses balanced on his freckled nose, thick framed and very much resembling ones he had to wear in college when the eye strain got too much. ]

[atthemercyof]

[ Well.

His gaze turns a little more earnest, a little dark. It's attractive, sparks a feeling Erik hasn't had much. Charles is certainly attractive in them. ] You're trying to distract me.

[oldcardigans]

[ Who, Charles? Never has there been a more innocent, positively angelic guide. Genuinely surprised, but he sounds intrigued. ] Why Erik, I didn't know you had an affinity for glasses. Uni memories are looking better and better.

[ Tucking them away, he's crowding into Erik's space, gesturing at the stairs languidly. ] Up you go. Keep your thoughts pure in the reading room, would you? Those memories will be all of ten year old me or so and things would get a trifle awkward.

[atthemercyof]

[ In a fit of immaturity, Erik sticks his tongue out at Charles. Then he smiles, takes the steps when commanding. ]

I do know how to behave myself.

[oldcardigans]

[ Grinning back is second nature, Charles laughing softly at this lighthearted side of Erik. Bracketing Erik in with hands on both railings, the steps protesting both their weights, they make their way easily out of the unsorted storerooms, air close and cramped and musty in the tiny stairwell. ] A little too well, I'd normally complain.