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selfgovernance wrote in singularity_rpg
Hello, everyone. Been a while, hasn't it?

[Charles' tone is perfectly genial, and altogether cheerful. Christmas is, after all, his favourite time of year.]

I, ah, I'm aware that not all of you celebrate Christmas, or even know what it is (in which case I'd be happy to explain, you need only ask), but there's a little poem I'd like to share with everyone this evening. It was first circulated in the Troy, New York Sentinel on December 23rd 1823, and its recitation has become something of a tradition amongst American families in the holiday season.

[he clears his throat, and then,]

T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

[there's a brief moment of silence, and then,]

Merry Christmas, everyone.

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[There is silence, for little reason than shyness. Then a shuffling sound akin to that source before Violet finds her voice.]

That was--

[Comforting? Sure, but she won't admit to a stranger that her dad reads the story (a bit more dramatically) every Christmas to her (and, ugh, Dash). Nor that hearing it has made her feel better about being stranded a bajillion lightyears away from home.

Childish, maybe - if you asked the Teenager side, but she's also not going to say that to a stranger.]

Uh, nice.

[Another break in this hours-long speech of some importance.]


[another unfamiliar voice! they do flock in, don't they?]

You're welcome, love. I don't believe we've spoken before, I'm Charles Xavier. It's very nice to meet you, mm?

[It's the seasonal migration, you see.]

Wait a second... You're the professor everyone's told me about?

[This is not disbelief, this is actually relief, then confusion for the fact that:]

Someone told me you'd left?

[... oh. she's heard of him. That's.


strange. and also flattering in a weird way.]

I was gone for a little bit, yes.

[She's only heard of you in the same way that every kid's heard about the boogeyman. Except, everyone said good things about you!]

You can do that? I thought this place was a one-way trip.

[well, he hardly wants to scare the girl, does he?]

I believe I have the lovely Hypatia to thank for my little sojourn, actually.

[audio] LJ, you're on a diet. No eating phone tags!

Do you mean she sent you away? Or that she brought you back?

[Not sure if understand?]

I'm honestly not sure which it is, to be quite honest with you. I expect it's a matter that will take a bit more study. I'm sorry I can't provide you with better answers, my dear.

Yeah, you're not the only one.

[Said in the moping mumble of a teen not getting anywhere.

A pause.]

So, uh. Everyone's been telling me that you're the guy to talk to. Are you important or something?

[slight frown. Tiny lost child sounds tiny and lost. :(]

Ah... I don't think I'd go so far as to say important, but I know a great many of the people here, and I try to stay on top of things as best I can. And I ensure that my home is open to anyone who might have need of it, Miss...?

[That is because the tiny lost child is actually tiny and lost! :'(

And Violet reveals that her ACTUAL Super!skill is long silences, because it's another half minute or so before she speaks.]


I'm kinda... new.


So, if you know a lot of people here, have you ever heard of a Mr. Incredible? Or maaaaaybe an Elastigirl?

Hello, Violet. It's lovely to meet you.

[he sounds about as warm as a supernova, and twice as fuzzy. Bothered by long silences? NOT THIS BRO.]

I'm sorry, though, I haven't heard of either of those two people. Are they... ah, friends of yours?

[Charles, you are battering down her STRANGER-DANGER walls with how nice you are.]

Yeah, they sort of are.

[Violet has never actually met her parents in their heroic Superegos, but her dad's stories were pretty obvious about who they were.]

Could you let me know if you hear from them?

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