Ethereal | (X-Men: First Class)

12. Flashover

The moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you've built up through decades of friction with the world.

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Hand-to-hand combat training went exactly as Marianne thought it might, though with fewer injuries, which she was grateful for. Moira had been the teacher, and more than one person had ended up thrown to the floor by her by the time the sun had set and they decided to call it a day.

Moira had decided that Darwin would not need any defence training, for obvious reasons, but would focus more on offence. She then let him attack her and knocked him off his feet every time. They would have to work on it.

Sean had managed to hold his own through - those schoolyard scraps had come in handy, it turned out - but Moira had slammed him more often than not (and Marianne almost clutched her chest in panic each time). She commended him on his quick-thinking and scrappy fighting but made sure to tell him that he needed the skill to balance out instinct. She had given Alex pretty much the same advice after Alex came at her with several hard punches and had nearly managed to knock her over, but he lost after she kneed him in the stomach.

"You learned in prison, I'm guessing?" Moira had asked him as she helped him off the floor. Alex, nearly doubled over as he stood up, nodded and groaned. "It's a good start, but you've got a lot to learn."

"Most of my time, I was in isolation," Alex said as he got off the fighting mats Moira had set up in the gym. Darwin helped him stand up straight, laughing as Alex groaned some more. "If I'd spent more time outside, I would have beaten you."

"Maybe," Moira said, rolling her eyes. She caught Marianne's eye and they shared a smirk, although a twinge of worry shot through Marianne as Alex mentioned his time in prison. Isolation? He was a teen. He should have been anywhere else.

Hank had been knocked down with little to no effort on Moira's part; Charles had suffered the same fate. Erik had matched Moira's skill but needed to rely less on his powers ("That's the point of this exercise, Erik!" Moira reminded him). Raven had managed to get a few hits in. Marianne herself put up more of a fight, mostly through dodging or blocking hits, though never landing one herself even when she could have.

"You have some technique down," Moira said, "which I feel you didn't get only from a book."

"I grew up in a mediocre neighbourhood," Marianne replied, and that was all she said as she stepped off the mat.

At the end of it all, they headed for the showers, and Charles advised them all to go to bed. It had been a long day, and they hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.

Marianne took a shower and headed for the kitchen.

It took a few wrong turns before she was able to find it, trying to remember the path of Raven's tour. When she found it, she was surprised - it was a normal little kitchen. It took up a whole room instead of taking up part of a larger room like in her own home, but it was still normal enough. For a mansion this size, she had been expecting something much bigger, much more elaborate.

But, no, although it was larger than she was used to, it was simple enough. There was even a small dining table and a few chairs set up.

Marianne started opening cabinets. She found a kettle and a box of tea, picked out a bag of black tea, filled the kettle with water, and set it on the stove.

She stared at the kettle, waiting for it to boil. She tapped her fingers against the counter. She should have gotten her locket back from her room, but she had been too focused on finding the kitchen.