Julie : I'm not entirely sure if I am more nervous about this than I am about our first public outing of sorts or not.  I suppose it would have to be more though, I wasn't in honestly that nervous at all about our zombie slaying trips.  That was something I knew, fighting for a purpose and for the good of others at large.  This? This I don't know.  And I'm a little disturbed by the fact that I have suddenly gained more fame from simply that, and who I had been in proximity to in such a...well. Spectacularly flashy manner.  I don't often read the tabloids myself, and so it had taken a bit of confusion before I'd realized what had happened.  We had, in fact, caught attention.  A lot of it.  Apparently enough so to land us in all our rainbowdecked, blonde glory on the front pages of more things than I actually liked.  When i'd left my apartment this morning, I'd noticed a couple photographers.  It had taken me until after my morning espresso to notice they were actually <i>following</i> me.  Why...?

It was then that I'd spotted the glossy photo, and about spit what was left of my carmely beverage onto the front of my shirt.  This was going to make my day interesting. I could tell.  Fortunately hiding in the back of my classrooms at school had allowed me to pretend like I was escaping some of the notice.  Perhaps it wouldn't have bothered me so much, not to say I'm that bothered just off guard, were I not used to almost annonymmity once again.  I wasn't Power Pack anymore. I wasn't the cheerleader anymore.  I was Julie Power! Theater major, with a ...job at SHIELD HQ on the side (not that I let many know about that one).  Only now, well.  Now I had been out and about with a famous pop star.

... how must this be for <i>her</i> every day?  I'm sure poor Dazzler's mobbed on a daily, continuous basis. 

My day was at least mostly uneventful beyond that. After my classes, it'd been work, after work it was home.  To deal with my sister badgering me over heroing, over my disappearing so much lately.  It wasn't something I exactly wanted to explain to her, though I knew in some details I might have to eventually.  She had especially begun to wonder, and argue, when I informed her that Alex would be coming over to babysit her for the evening, since I wasn't going to be home until tomorrow.  I'd had to badger my brother a great deal. Technically Katie was old enough to be home alone just fine.  But with the addition of Dazzler's ward, I didn't want to leave anything to chance so much.  He could always just peek in every once in a while, and hopefully the girls would entertain themselves.  Alex's presence was more to make sure they didn't go crime fighting on their own. 

I'd spent far longer than I normally would have, on most of the dates I'd ever been on, getting ready tonight.  On picking out the sunny little yellow dress, doing my hair and makeup.  Finding a matching bag out of my overflowing closet, and shoes.  I'd eyed the clock nervously as I waited for it to be time. Now there was only to wait until Daz showed up to drop off Molly.

Rogue : It's a bit early in the year for this, but you know what they say.  No time like the present, or something along those lines.  Normally I wait until further on in the summer for this, a specific date.  It's an anniversary of sorts.  A ritual, a reminder.  Something a sane person would probably <i>not</i> be doing, but while I'm not exactly certifiably insane, I do put myself through a lot of things that to me, are only right.  To other people, to friends, well.  They're crazy.  

And I've got to admit, I've thought they were too, on occasion.  Doesn't stop me from doing it though.  What was it someone had called it? My self-flaggellation? I think that's too big of a fancy sounding word for it, personally.  Reminding.  Simpler, and I think it fits better.  Reminding myself what I've done, what I'm capable of doing if I'm not careful. 

Rogue : It's been an eventful week. Maybe eventful isn't even a proper word for it, but given what sorts of activities I'd been involved in, such as antique shopping, this one had certainly been something else. There's always that high following a successful team outting, even if most of the 'team' wasn't really there. It's always even better when everyone goes back home with manageable levels of injuries. Less worries to be occupying the mind with, more time for celebration.

I haven't exactly spent much time in lighthearted celebration though, more mind reeling confliction than anything else. I would have tried to avoid Logan, but there really just wasn't any good excuses that I could come up with, and needing to wash my hair just really wasn't going to fly. I'm not at all sure what to make of it, and the flock of warring demons and angels that ride shotgun in my head, instead of the stereotypical perches on the shoulders, really aren't helping me.

Wolverine : The sign on the gate says 'Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning', but to those of us who went here for years we know that this place is called the X-Mansion. When i first laid eyes on the place it wasn't a school, not in the terms people think of when you say 'school', it wasn't even an institution. It was a target for me, sent here by Weapon X to destroy one of the most dangerous mutants in the world: Charles Francis Xavier. It didn't end that way, but that's how it started, and now on my way back through those pearly gates it sure does seem like this place has lost it's luster.

 

Rogue : The appearance of Tabor a few evenings back had done more than make me marvel at how often 'it's a small world' is true. I suppose it wasn't even technically that applicable, since it wasn't exactly unheard of for a fellow mutant you met at one school for mutants, to pop up in another such. Moreso, it had set me to puzzling.

It wasn't as if his sudden, quick departure upset me or anything. He was an acquaintence, if anything. I remember him being at the Academy in the first weeks that I was there, when I was still skulking in rooms and corridors away from everyone else, only venturing out to to be social when it was time for my sessions with the Professor. I'd talked with him a few times, of course, but he took off not too long after I started showing my face to the sunshine a bit more.

It was more the realization that it had set me stewing over, exactly how many of us were Lord Above knows where. Haven't seen Emma in... I can't even think how long. And then faces that I hadn't seen in forever are cropping up again, like Jubilee. Topsy turvy times. I've been keeping mostly to the regular activities, though. Despite it. Emma'd asked me to teach the students a thing or two about the ins and outs of the guts of vehicles.

James : *There were some things that you just couldn't get used to. One of those things was the idea that a rogue group of mutants would still dare operate within the United States. How they did it was a combination of things. SHIELD didn't want to have open warfare on it's hands. Not yet. General Fury still had enough enfluence to see to that. And even Hill wasn't that stupid. Still.

There was that understanding that the X-Men would police a lot of the mutant 'problem' on their own. And in doing so, they would operate, as they always had, somewhat outside of the law. Like owning one of the most high-tech stealth aircraft on the planet. The Blackbird wasn't your daddy's Pipper Cub. It was VTOL capable, with fully intergrated steath and ECMs. It also had comfortable travel space for a large team. A large team that the X-Men didn't have any more. That was something that James was trying to fix though. Not with fliers and mass rallies to recruit, but with selective new faces.

And finding the lost sheep to see if they could be brought back into the fold.

( Warpath, Gambit, Rogue )

Julian : Julian lifted the electronic scanner in his hands and gave it a healthy shake. The thing reminded him of a graphing calculator, and that just evoked a whole lot of unpleasant memories. After the 'Pestilence' incident in Australia, he'd decided that it would be good to get moving on the mission Forge had given he and Tabby; one never knew when some 'veteran' X-Men were going to get blown up by a dude on a horse. If television taught nothing else, it taught that ressurrection of an aging franchise came via a younger, hotter, edgier ensemble.

"See anything, Tab?" he asked his blonde obsession-by-way-of-teammate, not bothering to look up from the scrambled screen of the reader. "Aside from the graffiti and human refuse," he clarified, not even acknowledging the hobo who was crouched next to a trash can a few meters away. They had teleported from the aquatic base to New York, where it seemed their target led quite the shady life. At the moment, they were standing on a street corner of one of the - bluntly put - shittier parts of the city. The 'axis' of a scatterplot printout from the Cerebro unit ran along the line they were scouting out, but so far, neither they nor the hand-held unit had picked up anything.

( Meltdown, Hellion, Tigress )

Grace : The last benefit I’d heard of was an official Thunderbolts sponsored event. One that I couldn’t even hardly afford the ticket price for, beyond the fact that I’m simply not that comfortable in that sort of setting to begin with. It wasn’t a hard choice to skip it. I think I spent the night out patrolling instead. It probably was a more productive use of my time. This one, well. This one is different.

Mind, I never say no to helping out a charity, but the one this particular event will be benefiting is particularly near and dear to my own heart. I do, after all, spend usually four to five afternoons a week with the children whose idea it was. They may not be up late enough on this specific school night to attend, but we’ll just think of them here in spirit. The ballroom of the hotel is decorated to the nines (at least the nines by elementary school children standards). Not to put it down, it is actually spectacularly well done. My favorite is the prow of a ship that was built to look like it was coming out of the back wall, punch and party favors arranged on rickety (looking only!, they really aren’t) trestle tables around it, palm trees and treasure chests scattered around the floor.

( Grace, Karla, Mock )

Karla : The door, was of course, unlocked, when Grace's scheduled time for appointment arrived, and she was directed to enter. It was a nice office, as far as Offices went. Lush carpet, a few pieces of art on the walls, a book shelf. A number of plants set about the room - none artificial. Real plants added to the atmosphere, and you could smell that they were real rather then false. One of the typically expected couches over along one wall, and a series of chairs - none of which were on the other side of one Doctor Karla Sofen's desk. A radio sat by the window, volume very low, playing soft easy listening music.

"Have a seat, Grace." Karla said, standing from the other side of her desk, giving the younger woman free reign of just where she wanted to have a seat. Karla herself was dressed simply, a white top with a light blue button up thrown on over it - unbuttoned, and a matching blue skirt. Soft colors, to accompany the easy going friendly voice that was a psychiatrists best friend.

( Grace, Karla )