Endeavour Nikolas Stark is perfectly fine as is.
As a child he had been extraordinary, finding a home among the friendliest of people at Charles Xavier's School For the Gifted, and finding himself Gifted in many ways just beyond the X-Gene in his DN...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Shelter me from the wind, the wind, the wind.
Doctor E. Nikolas Stark stands at the front of a crowded room. His voice echoes in the arched lecture hall despite its low volume.
"Monet creates areas of colors, green defines the leaves with purples and blues as the water reflects the natural light." He is lecturing in French, for the benefit of the majority of students found in the hall. For this is his French Masters class taught solely in the language. Though his hands do flourish alongside his voice, creating an English Sign Language undertone to his lecture. "Deep blues create shadowing from the trees above. The pinks, oranges, and reds show the flowers shining in the sunlight."
He tips back and forth on his heels, and for Nikolas the rocking is a comfort no matter how subtle or severe the movements.
The best companion to the rocking is the oversize noise-canceling headphones that his dad developed for him years ago. The young doctor had utilized them during his few, yet highly successful years at MIT, as well as whenever he was in the public eye with his father.
His position at Stanford University is not a high level one, solely because he does not lecture full time as much of his position in Stark International outside of the college relies on flexibility. Nikolas does not mind the lack of full time. He mainly lectures on art history, though his own PhD's in Engineering, Chemistry, and Nuclear Physics, alongside a masters in Physics that he had not had the chance to further, are drastically different than the impressionistic point of view that the arts grant him.
He pushes off of the podium behind him, stepping towards his students on a leg that briefly cannot hold his weight. Nikolas hesitates, glancing down at the appendage in confusion before pushing away the feeling and speaking to his students once again.
"One can view Monet's Water Lillies as a starting path towards abstraction, blurring the lines between non-objective subject art and art that displays a subject matter." Nikolas glances over his students faces, though he does not fully comprehend the emotions found there. He is thinking ahead of this current moment, waiting for when he can remove the pretense of put together and relax in his lab. "The colors interact with each other and creates an interest through this display of relationship."
Nikolas is not an overly impressive man. He stands at barely five foot six and his head is almost always bowed. His voice is accented, only because of his capabilities with so many languages and when he speaks it is often monotone, incapable of inflection unless he is passionate.
His current lecture is something he finds to be a passion, despite his concentration on leaving as quickly as possible.
And then suddenly there is someone in the building that is not meant to be here, Nikolas can feel their presence with ease, prodding at the edges of his mind in a human way. Nikolas is capable of blocking the noise of those he is use too.
