@obclus
As usual, Eriadon had long since changed into their nightshirt when Adalinda returned to their room. He’d sat on his bed, scribbling absentmindedly in the ledger each student had been given by Charles Xavier. The influx of new students had been cause enough for interest at first, more than worth an inspection, but soon enough, the novelty had worn off. Whatever was to be achieved at Xavier’s school had coasted, their mission stagnant. Little could be revealed of Eriadon’s true nature save parlor tricks and practical jokes without putting a target on his back. Normalcy had become every bit as suffocating as the torture they’d left behind. Surely Adalinda felt it too, no matter how exquisite their façade.
But things were changing, little by little. The foundations were beginning to crumble. The new students may not have been around when the seeds of discontent were planted, but they would when the chaos bore fruit. It was imperative to Eriadon that the harvest was put to good use. Thus, when it became clear that Adalinda was ready for bed, Eriadon rose. Gliding closer, he phased beneath the covers beside Adalinda, burying their head in the crook of her neck. This was one routine of which Eriadon never tired. Wherever they traveled, Adalinda was home. Their fingers intertwined at once, just as they always had when the beginnings of some wild scheme or other bubbled at the surface of their shared consciousness.
“We’ve known from early on that this so-called school wasn’t safe,” Eriadon murmured, “now everyone else knows it too,” In truth, safety was as much a false religion as the worship of Apocalypse, a comforting lie that could not stand up to even the most innocent forms of skepticism. The truth of this had been carved into the twins’ shared soul time and again, a doctrine of atheism, “the students are afraid. Don’t you miss it, sister, feeding on fear?” With their leader gone and the horsemen dispersed, Clan Akkaba was only as powerful as the fear they inspired. Their threat was fleeting, the fear transmuting the moment a more threatening foe came to take their place. An evolutionary necessity, the key to survival, protection against more reckless impulses. To instill fear was to wield power over evolution itself, but all-too often, the students and teachers attributed Eriadon’s penchant for it to little more than a sick sense of humor.
That was the real joke, wasn’t it?
“Every student, every teacher, secret-keepers all,” Eriadon continued, “no one advertises their fear. Some wear it more covertly than others, but it’s hard—it’s hard not to see it at times. The librarian, Maddie, for instance, she’s afraid of being separated from the man she loves, and I suspect there’s more at stake for her than a simple romance. Meanwhile, Bobby, the ice man, pulls away from any serious commitment at every turn, afraid to act on any affections he might have. The new student, David, I watch and I see distraction, if not—if not disassociation. What is he hiding from? And have you seen the way Jean Grey looks at her plate in the cafeteria? Whatever it is she fears seems to be affecting her appetite. The two other sets of twins, they don’t share our rapport, no matter how they might wish it. They doubt each other, even in love, question their instincts, the very antithesis of what they might share. A great deal of the students are frightened of their own abilities, of course, but I suppose that goes without saying.” And these observations were minimal, little more than the result of watching from the shadows, a pastime Eriadon had perfected nearly from birth.
“Would you fault me if I said that I’ve begun to chafe at the confines of an observer’s role?” Eriadon pursed their lips slightly, leaning in closer to Adalinda, “is this all I was denied as a child? Would so-called normalcy have nothing to offer me but—but endless repetition toward no discernible goal? We were made for better things, Adalinda, or at the very least, more interesting ones.”
