[ Her mouth opens in a little "oh". Understanding blossoms in her mind, rippling deeper. Her mind is a strange thing - malnourished and hungry, it wants to understand and learn, but it can also make her skittish and wary like a starving animal. ]
You're.. like Charles.
[ The image flits through her mind then, of Charles Xavier in his wheelchair, in his room here in the castle. And a memory, too - an image of how Charles sees the world, the way he showed her:
The castle and the town beyond and the forest beyond that, a map shaped not by the locations themselves but by the overlay of every mind within them. An ocean of flickering fireflies, and each of those fireflies humming with their own life and feelings and memories. There is an enormous noise only barely held at bay, a thousand voices speaking at once.
It flickers through her thoughts briefly, and she watches the older boy with wary curiosity, seeing if like Charles, he could see that, feel that. ]
William.
[ She doesn't pronounce it quite right. More like Wil-Liam. The emphasis not quite where it should be. And for a moment she thinks of Will, too, of the small boy who was swallowed up by the gate she opened. She wonders if this boy is a Will, too.
She looks around, briefly, as if looking at the darkness for the first time. Eleven believes she could push him out, if she wanted to - this is a thought that might be entirely untrue, but she believes it, at least. ]
no subject
You're.. like Charles.
[ The image flits through her mind then, of Charles Xavier in his wheelchair, in his room here in the castle. And a memory, too - an image of how Charles sees the world, the way he showed her:
The castle and the town beyond and the forest beyond that, a map shaped not by the locations themselves but by the overlay of every mind within them. An ocean of flickering fireflies, and each of those fireflies humming with their own life and feelings and memories. There is an enormous noise only barely held at bay, a thousand voices speaking at once.
It flickers through her thoughts briefly, and she watches the older boy with wary curiosity, seeing if like Charles, he could see that, feel that. ]
William.
[ She doesn't pronounce it quite right. More like Wil-Liam. The emphasis not quite where it should be. And for a moment she thinks of Will, too, of the small boy who was swallowed up by the gate she opened. She wonders if this boy is a Will, too.
She looks around, briefly, as if looking at the darkness for the first time. Eleven believes she could push him out, if she wanted to - this is a thought that might be entirely untrue, but she believes it, at least. ]
Do you like the quiet?