Tails of Change [Revamping!]

6) Mapping

[Author's Note:

X-Men Characters in this Chapter: Nightcrawler (Kurt), Professor X (Charles Xavier)

OC Characters in this Chapter: _____(Sorin)

*Italicized words are either German words or English words with a more Germanic spelling. Any words that are dissimilar to the English version (or a bit out of context) will have a translation appearing here:

die Schule (PRN: dee shoo-luh) == the school

Version (PRN: vehr-zi-ohn) == version

Gut (PRN: goot) == good

{5.28.2018} Revamped! New material!]

After Sorin had left Professor Xavier's office, he followed the map to the kitchen. He found a walk-in pantry with stacks and shelves full of food, and some snack bars on one of the shelves to his right. He stashed a few in his pockets to munch on later and grabbed a bottle of water from the pack he found sitting on the floor. He spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around in an effort to get used to the place's structure, munching on the food he'd pocketed. By four o'clock, Sorin thought he'd walked the path from his bedroom to the kitchen to the exit and back to his bedroom enough times that he wouldn't need the map to make that trip anymore, which had been part of his goal to begin with. Now, whenever he returned to school, he would be able to get out of the building, and get back to the two important rooms: his, and the kitchen.

Sorin had also meandered into an indoor pool area, the recreational rooms on the ground floor, and a library at some point that afternoon. He was relieved at these discoveries - there would be no running out of things to do between today and whenever he returned to school, no boredom setting in.

In an effort to plan ahead for his return to school, and prevent the boredom that always brought complacency, he had returned to the library. He'd discovered and figured out the self-checkout system in the library, a simple swipe of the book's barcode followed by a signature. Now, he was on his way back to his room, a small stack of books cradled in the crook of his arm, a smile on his face.

He settled on his bed and opened one of the books. He was only six pages in when a voice drew his attention away.

"Found die library, ja?"

Kurt was leaning casually on the doorframe, his transmogrified image donned in a pair of khakis, a burgundy T-shirt, and a matching pair of burgundy converse shoes. Even in the hologram, Kurt's black hair still shone a little navy when the light hit it and Sorin thought that it suited him.

"Yep," he lifted the book up for proof. "You can turn that thing off now, you know."

"Oh," Kurt sounded hesitant, "ja." Kurt hit a series of buttons on his watch and the hologram fell away.

Sorin was only a little surprised at the relief he felt upon seeing Kurt's blue self.

Kurt walked over to the bed and leaned over it a bit, and Sorin, in order to reach out and tilt back the book in Sorin's hands.

"Vorld History: die Condensed Version. Sounds like studying."

"I've been out of school for a while. I don't want my grades to slip because of it," Sorin shifts uncomfortably on the bed, the tip of his tail flicking against the blanket with a soft thump. He sounded like such a nerd, which was part of the reason he hadn't had many friends. The few he did have, well, he assumed if they knew about him sprouting a tail and ears, and developing powers, he probably didn't have any friends left. He hadn't been back to school since his parents had found out.

"Maybe I could help." Kurt pushed his hands into the front pockets of his parts and rocked back on his heels.

"Help me read a book?" Sorin pushed thoughts of the past aside.

"I have die books and die homework from die Schule you will be attending. Und der Professor said you und l are in der same year."

"Are you offering to tutor me or trying to get me to do your homework for you?" Sorin raised an eyebrow at Kurt.

"Vell if you are offering," Kurt shot him a grin that woke dormant butterflies in his stomach. Sorin had a brief moment where preludes of a vampire Kurt, with those pronounced pointed canines of his, said the same phrase before sinking his teeth into Sorin's neck. Or the lesser-known blood access on his thigh. Sorin thought he liked the idea of Kurt biting him a little too much, and squashed those thoughts down. Hopefully, he squashed the blush he could feel threatening to color his face too.

"At least give you actual studies instead of you trying to memorize that book."

Sorin realized Kurt had been talking, and that he'd only heard the last tidbit. He saw that Kurt was standing there, waiting.

"We can try the sharing thing," Sorin responded after gathering his wits again. "But I'm not doing your homework."

"Gut. Meet you in die library after dinner."

Sorin watched Kurt walk out, tail slightly coiled and swaying. When Kurt was out of sight, Sorin looked at the clock. It was almost five o'clock, almost time for dinner made by Ororo. He wondered what would be on the menu, and wondered what would happen if he didn't like what she made - if anyone didn't like or didn't want what she made. Then he felt silly for forgetting the you-can-just-make-your-own-food exception.

He got up off the bed and put the library books on one of the wall shelves. Sorin shoved the map into his back pocket, just in case, and decided to brave the formal dinner. As he made his way to the kitchen, through which he'd find the room in which the large dining table resided, he realized he didn't know how many others there were. Professor Xavier, Ororo, Dr. McCoy, Wolverine - whatever his name was, and Kurt: Sorin listed the people he knew of. Obviously, Kurt was the only one his age, but the Professor had made it clear that there were more than a few students here.

His gait slowed subconsciously as he began to worry about the others. Just because they were all different, all mutants, didn't mean they'd all get along. When he'd been just human, so had the rest of his school - the popular kids, the bullies, the people who weren't even aware of his existence. Except for his small group of oddball friends, he'd always been an outcast. He wasn't naive enough to believe there wouldn't be a similar social construct even amongst a group of society's major outcasts.