trans_9 | Sooo...Meet-y

Jean hovered near the edges of the crowd, watching the new crew as they slowly migled with the older ones. At least this batch would be more informed of what was truly going on.

Sighing, she moved slowly around the crowd, her gaze moving slowly over every face, searching for someone she knew. She wouldn't be surprised id someone recognized her. It happened a lot. But it would be nice to know someone for a change.

The alien plopped down on the floor of the meatship, gave a casual wave to a retreating tentacle that had (somewhat unwillingly) transported him here with one hand while adjusting his visor with the other, and got his first good view of what he was dealing with.

As with the first time he had woken up someplace new, the first things Aeneas recognized were the sentients. The previous ones were called Awesonians—a pleasant race, if not rather self-centered and ignorant—and they had been taking care of him for the past two years. How long Aeneas remained with these creatures remained to be seen. Regardless, they were much more…enigmatic than the Awesonians—if he could be so blunt. Nearly hairless (covered instead by a layer of porous skin with a precarious dollop of fur upon their scalp), the ungainly bipeds appeared so unnatural that Aeneas wondered if they were all the products of some odd experiment meant to produce a new species. It would certainly explain why there were so many of them. Goodness, they were everywhere! And they talked constantly in an odd, guttural gibberish that made the alien’s auricles throb.
He silently thanked Stacy for whatever translator device she had installed within herself—if not, he most likely would’ve gone mad from the noise.

Otherwise, they had a keen affinity for clothing and they were all freaking out in a fairly uniform fashion. It would be Aeneas, therefore, that would be the outcast in this group. Throughout his existing memory he had been this person, however, so this was nothing new.

“ ‘Nothing new’…” thought Aeneas, a smirk creasing his eyes and brow, “That’s a phrase I don’t use every day.”

In relation to the creatures around him, Aeneas stood out pretty much on his own. He stood roughly six feet tall at both ends, but his body, when rolled out, was comparatively long, just barely scraping the ten foot mark. And yet, Aeneas only weighed a meager 180 pounds. He figured it had something to do with his internal composition, but he really hadn’t had the chance to do any ‘exploring’ of his own on the matter (and frankly he preferred to keep it that way). Regardless, the flowing, blue-striped fur would’ve been plenty to catch the attention of these experiments—an observation that Aeneas made with a fine helping of irony.

But appearance alone was not all that made Aeneas stick out. He was extremely, almost annoyingly calm. He walked with a timely grace, making sure that he got in all the sights before he moved on. The reason for this was simple—and therefore can wait to be explained in more detail. For now, Aeneas figured it would be a good time to figure out just what these creatures were.
And what better way than to go up and ask one?

The ‘head honcho’, as far as Aeneas could fathom he was, appeared a little too busy to make the alien comfortable. Instead he found what appeared to be a female of the species, looking from afar with an expression in her eyes that conveyed a mix of curiosity and, perhaps, mild disappointment. It was hard to tell with a species that used their mouths more than their eyes.

He approached casually, a soft purr rising in his throat. By itself it would be soothing, enough to calm the nerves or ease the pain of any suffering individual. With Stacy’s translating system, though, it eventually manifested as speech.

“Hello,” he blinked with squinted lavender eyes that seemed rather quizzical, “This may be an odd question to ask, but what species are you exactly?”

Jean turned her head to address whoever had just talked to her and quickly found that she had to raise her gaze. She blinked, not even sure what sort of creature or the sex of the creature addressing her. It looked like some sort of beaked furry... Actually she had no idea what it looked like.

She offered it a small smile. "It's not all that odd, considering," Jean finally said once she found her voice. "I'm a mutant, a type of human." She paused for a moment, studying the creature. "Might I ask what you are?"

‘Human’, ah? Aeneas cocked his head. “Well, at least that answers one question…”

Unfortunately there were entirely too many that remained to be addressed. Lucky for this female (or at least he assumed she was female, going on the standard bias that she was shorter than the other humans, and also relying on his own judgment of hormones), most of the more pressing ones did not directly concern her. Maybe she would stumble on them one day.
Maybe she would encounter one sooner.

“I…” Aeneas blinked again, his eyes resolving so that they pointed, heavily crossed, towards the ceiling—a look of intense confusion. “…I’m not sure, actually.”

He shook his head, webbed ears flopping limply.

“—It’s a long story, but it is of no concern. I go by Aeneas.”
”And that is all she needs to be worried about for now,” he thought with a low sigh.

“Your kind—‘mutant humans’?” Aeneas continued, regarding her with a creased brow that mimicked her smile, “They go by names, yes? What is yours?”

Jean scratched the side of her cheek. "Uh, I'm a mutant... which...Oh, I'm human." Jean said figuring that was enough. Other non muntants might not care to be classified as mutant humans.

"It's nice to meet you Aeneas, my name is Jean." Her smile grew a little. "Where are you from?"

Aeneas frowned a little. Or rather, his gaze fell to a point just past the sheathed claws on his front toes. If Jean hadn’t noticed by now, most of this alien’s communication was strictly through his eyes.
Well, through two of his eyes anyway.

“You as well,” Aeneas forced another crease into his lavender stare, “As for where I’m from…”

That was actually more of a tough question that Jean probably intended, and was what had caused him the original discerning glance at the floor. ”Should I tell her that I don’t know? Or would my current memories suffice?”

He hesitated.

”…Ah, current. No need to confuse her any more than she already is. Besides, if I keep up this ambiguity, she’ll just ask about it anyways.”
Not that Aeneas didn’t want her to ask—he simply didn’t like the idea of not having an answer for her.

“I was picked up from the planet Walrum.”

And then a question of his own slipped through his personal censor in the form of an abrupt growl.

“—Are we still nearby? The Awesonians are an innocent race, they don’t need to be involved in any of this. I would prefer if we keep them ignorant, at least until I return?”

Jean watched Aeneas carefully, she'd have to get him up into the medbay at some point so she could get a body scan from him and any possible medical issues that he might have. It would certainly be interesting.

She shook her head a little and spread her hands out in an apologetic manner. "I'm sorry Aeneas, but the universe you know has been destroyed by the Ohm. You've been brought here to help fight them," she explained, her voice falling into a comforting tone. "I'm sorry."

“…Oh.”

Aeneas again glanced at the floor. A spark of worry flashed past his eyes, but then they quickly resolved, emotionless.

“Well that’s unfortunate I suppose,” he gave a small, nonchalant shrug, “It was a nice universe.”

This was probably the last thing she expected to hear, especially in such a dismissive manner. But quite frankly, Aeneas had little to miss. He had no close relations with the Awesonians—two years was not nearly enough time to consider even the medic that had nursed him back to health as family—and other than that, he knew no one of his own species. He didn’t even know if there was anyone of his own species to begin with.
So why should he fret over things that most likely never existed? Well, unless…

“—Is there any way of telling if someone else from my universe was saved?” Aeneas asked, his eyes sparkling hopefully.

She observed him silently, trying to figure out what he was feeling, without actually using her telepathy. She didn't want to have to deal with the hundred of thoughts that were likely to bombard her the moment the blocks were lowered. No, today was a non telepathic day.

He sent off mixed signals. One of nonchalantness, the other of hope. This Aeneas seemed to be more complex than he was letting on to be.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe there is." Jean informed him gently. "There might be others from your universe in some of the pods, but we have no way of knowing until a pod release."

Another glance at the floor.

”…Now come on Aeneas, it’s a whole universe we’re dealing with here,” he thought with a raise of his brow, ”The chances of you being the only survivor are slim to none. There have to be others. There may even be Awesonians. Some of these humans might even be from your universe. They could all be from your universe! Is there really any way of knowing?”

Aeneas suddenly realized that he was trying to calm himself down, but it wasn’t working too well. He quickly tried to change the subject.

“How long have you been on this…”

Oh he didn’t want to call her a ship. It just seemed so impersonal, you know?

“…vessel, Jean?”

Having talked to several people, and feeling slightly more comfortable with things, Mal began moving around the crowd again, taking in the appearances of everyone there, and also partly keeping an eye out for the telepaths that Jo had pointed out.

As he got nearer to the fringes of the gathering, he thought he spotted one of them. Not giving himself a second to think how best to respond (after all, they were still people, telepaths or not), Mal walked up, held out a hand, and introduced himself. "I'm Captain Mal Reynolds. I heard from someone that you're a telepath..." Probably not the best introduction line ever, but he couldn't think of a better way to say it.

A little taken a back by Mal's directness, Jean stared at him for a moment. Well that was certainly something new. Most people tended to sort of skirt around the issue. Or try overly hard not to think around her.

Finally, a smile appeared on her lips and she reached out and shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Captain Reynolds, I'm Doctor Jean Grey. And uh... Why yes, I am a telepath, that sure got around fast..."

"Sorry for bein' so direct," Mal began, as a follow-up to his rather sudden introduction. "Just couldn't think of a better way of sayin' it. Hope you don't mind; someone told me you were, and I guess I'm just too curious about things."

"It's rather refreshing, so it's really OK," Jean said quickly, because it really had been. "Really? I don't see why I would mind, I'm pretty sure you would have found out sooner or later anyway. Things like that are a bit hard to keep secret around here. So is your curiousity satsified?"

Mal nodded, acknowledging her statement that it was okay that he'd asked. "Well, I guess some people want to be treated like they ain't any different, so they tend to get a little uptight when someone points out their differences," the ship's captain replied with a shrug. "Far as I'm concerned, though, whether you're a telepath or not doesn't make much of a difference. Makes you stand out more than the rest, but that's about it. Yeah, I'm satisfied."

"Thanks," Mal said with a smile.

"Yes, I generally prefer to be treated like anyone else," Jean grinned. "But I think most people prefer that." Jean has no problem with what she is and what she can do, and really isn't afraid to share it with the members of the crew, it's probably pretty obvious.

"So you're not curious about if I've read your mind?" Her eyebrow arched a little, because normally people tended to be curious about that. She did have her walls up at the moment though, so she wouldn't be slammed with hundreds of different thoughts all at once.

"Yeah, guess so. It's a pretty basic preference, or so it seems."

"Well, I don't really take to someone readin' every single thing that's running through my mind, but at the same time, I ain't got anything to hide," replied Mal with an even tone. It was partly true; he had nothing to hide from anyone, and even though he definitely had some memories he'd just as soon keep private, if Jean ended up seeing those memories... Well. He figured there wasn't a lot he could do.

"Way I see it, I can't keep you from usin' your ability, short of askin' you not to. I'm not about to use force or nothin' on you to make you stop."

"Well I try not to, though it's not something I can always control. It's a power I'm still working on getting one hundred percent control over," Jean tells him honestly. So basically she's telling him that she at times would be hearing his thoughts.

So maybe he should try to keep his thoughts on the clean side around her. She'd greatly appreciate it.

Her eyebrow arches in amusement. Clearly he hasn't been told of her other power. "Well even if you'd like to stop me, I don't think you'd be able to." Jean smiles. She's not being smug or even arrogant, she's just stating a fact.

Mal crossed his arms, tapping the fingers of one hand as he processed what Jean was telling him. "So you can't entirely control it, meanin' that sometimes you'll be able to hear what I'm thinkin'." He kept his expression neutral, not betraying what he thought about that. "Guess that ain't so bad, since it's not entirely your fault, and not on purpose."

If she was worried about Mal thinking less than wholesome thoughts about her, she didn't have to worry. She definitely was attractive, but Mal wasn't the type to go falling for every woman he came across.

Mal raised an eyebrow. "Why might that be?" He guessed that her statement didn't have much to do with her underestimating his abilities.

"Pretty much," Jean nodded. "It doesn't happen all that often. Normally it happens when I'm over tired or have over used my powers."

She's not worried, she has ways to discourage thoughts that border or are full out perverted.

She didn't bother to answer his question with words. No, sometimes it was more effecient to show. She stared intently at Mal, focusing her telekenetic powers on him. Slowly he began to lift off the ground and then he was hovering about a foot in the air.

"That's why," Jean said a small smile forming on her lips.

"So with practice comes experience, then?" Seemed fairly straightforward enough... After all, the more 'conventional' abilities required practice, so it made sense for telepathy to work the same way.

And Mal would rather not find out what those ways are, so he'll be keeping those thoughts to himself, if they come up at all.

Once he realized exactly what it was that Jean was doing, Mal's eyebrows just about shot off his face. He wasn't very high off the ground, but just the idea of being lifted off the ground by someone's mind was astonishing. "You've pretty effectively left me with no options. Don't think I'll be threatenin' you much, not that I planned on doin' that," he said, managing to smile, after getting over the initial shock.

"Well that's a good thing to know," Jean grinned before lowering him down so he was standing. "I apologize if I caught you off guard, it's just sometimes easier to show rather than explain."

She studied him for a moment. "Do you have any questions about anything else?"

"Fàngxīn. I'm guessin' that's one of the advantages of bein' a telepath. Most people probably ain't gonna be prepared for something like that, which gives you the advantage." Though, if he was going to be honest, he was quite happy to be on the ground again.

Mal shrugged then, saying, "Pretty sure you've answered all the questions I had, and then some."

She smiled, and nodded her head. She had no idea what he'd just said, but she figured it wasn't anything bad considering the rest of what he'd said.

"Well I'm glad I could help you out. If you ever need anything I can normally be found in the medbay. Which by the way, I will be needing you to come to a some point so I can start a medical file for you."

Mal was unaware he'd said anything not understandable; speaking Mandarin was fairly commonplace in his part of the world, so words tended to slip out without much thought on his part.

"Let me know when's a good time to stop by, and I'll be there."

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doctor-jeangrey.livejournal.com - 2009-12-02 18:33 (UTC) - Expand