It was interesting coming back to Xavier's school after finishing college. If for no other reason than the fact that Thomas had only spent two or so years there prior to transferring into higher education. It was like walking into an alien world as he stepped out of the cab he'd taken from upstate New York and past the barred gate leading onto the campus before him.
It was a Saturday, which meant no classes. This also meant, of course, that the school's children were milling about the grounds in various states of idle and play. Several were on a bench near the large fountain just outside the estate chatting. Another group was deeply engrossed in a game of soccer. Laughter carried from nearly every direction.
For mutants, there weren't many places in the world like this. Stepping into it again after six years away was stunning enough that for a brief moment, Thomas stood rooted just inside the gate. His taloned feet dug into the gravel driveway, scraping small ruts between the pebbles and larger rocks paving the path leading to the great wooden doors of the school's entrance. He hesitated for several minutes, red eyes raking over the grounds as if trying to memorize all the faces he intended to teach. To help. There was a time when he'd once thought he would never be of much help to anyone, much less himself, but there he was. Worldview changed, the peace in his heart tempered only by excitement, and perhaps a bit of apprehension about how accepted he may be by the other teachers. Specifically the X-Men.
Thomas wasn't a fighter. He wouldn't be joining them in any battles. Not with his brittle bones, nor the way his powers brought him back not only in time physically, but to the times he'd used them to do things that were less than good. Less than healthy. From every horrible thing he wished he could undo, he had to move on and find a way to make the present better. He could only hope beyond hope that if he could offer nothing else, he could offer support when things went wrong.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Thomas steeled himself for his first meeting with Charles regarding his job - before teaching, he would be spending the months leading up to the next semester simply providing therapy for the more troubled children. Spreading great black wings behind himself and dropping into a low crouch, he launched himself into the air. It drew several gasps from the children below to see him cover the distance between the gate and the front door in only a few flaps of his wings. Alighting on the top step with the sharp click of claws on stone, he turned to them and grinned back at the excited faces of the kids behind him, wings folding once more against his back.
Another deep breath, and he was pulling the door open to the familiar grand staircase leading up to the dorms and offices, with hallways leading to classrooms to one side, and another to the kitchen on the other. Stepping inside, he wondered if this were how it felt for others who returned to walk the halls of a school they no longer attended. It was smaller than he remembered, despite the fact that all of it was housed in a sprawling mansion with a massive basement.
Thomas was so caught up in peering around, the small bag containing all his worldly possessions clutched in his hands, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a heavily accented voice greeted him. He hadn't caught what the person had said, and he blinked when he realized it was Kurt Wagner. Nightcrawler. He was crouched on one of the railings leading up the grand staircase, a grin twisting his lips. Somehow it wasn't surprising that this would be the first person he'd run into. He could teleport, for Pete's sake.
"Oh - hi there. I'm sorry, I didn't catch that?" Thomas breathed out, shifting the bag in his hands so he could better accommodate its weight. He didn't know Kurt well, but it was nice to see him again nonetheless.