nextgenerationmarvel | Not In Siberia Anymore [Intro; Open to everyone at the Institute]

"It's alright. You don't have to help me with the bags if you don't want to bu- wait, there's a library?" Ilya's face lights up immediately. He loves reading. For most of his life he'd had no real access to new books and the world is so much more vast than the tiny education he had before. He can't keep from smiling. "Can you show me it?" Oh, God, he probably sounds so lame and dorky. Crap. Well, at least he didn't ask what on Earth 'sitch' and 'Shi'ar' meant.

"Nah, it's cool." Topher had all that super-strength to expend, after all. He reached down and easily lifted up Ilya's things. He grinned. "The Institute's got a lot of layers," he explained. "The library is one of our best facilities, though. Huge, sprawling. Books, magazines of all kinds." Topher tended to spend a lot of time in there himself. "It's quieter than some of the common rooms, which is nice," he continued. He led Ilya past the double stair case and down a warm, sunny corridor. "Plus, unlike the public ones? This one's open twenty-four-seven." They stepped through a set of double doors into a wide, expansive room with large windows, riddled here and there with couches, chairs, desks, and some computer stations.

"I'd suggest staying away from the occult section. Magik built that up awhile ago, and the books are a little kooky."

Ilya's bags are fairly light. After all, he has virtually no personal possessions besides clothes, a laptop and a few books in Russian. He tries not to look amazed as they walk through the mansion, but it's obvious that he is; he hasn't seen a place like this in person before and quite frankly it's hard to believe this is real. It's like one of the palaces of Moscow, but they're just walking through it like they belong here.

"I've never been in a place this big before," he admits, looking at the huge library in awe. The library is bigger than his old house was. Ilya looked around, almost afraid to touch something. All the books are in pristine condition. Everything is beautiful. "I'm not even sure what 'occult' means. I mean, I know people back home used it to talk about things that weren't Christian, but... Russia isn't a really religious place." How many words is he going to not know or find have other uses in Russian?

He can and should look amazed all he wants. The Institute was a pretty wondrous place.

Scary too, sometimes, but wondrous nonetheless.

"It's a little daunting at first," Topher agreed. "I grew up here, for the most part, so I'm sure there's a lot I take for granted. It's always interesting witnessing it through the eyes of someone new." Topher set Ilya's bags down near the entrance of the library.

"Make yourself at home," he added. "I mean, it kind of will be, for the foreseeable future. Why not make the most of it, y'know?" Students milled about amongst the small crowd in the library, as did some teachers, and some non-teaching-staff X-Men.

"Occult is...you know. Witchcraft. Supernatural stuff." There was no judgment or anything on Topher's face for Ilya's lack of knowledge. After all, everyone's experiences were different. Topher didn't judge people by those things. "Magik was one of the X-Men. She was Russian too, actually."

"You grew up here?" there's a little note of envy in his voice, mixed with a sort of uncertainty. People should grow up with their parents and if instead Topher's grown up here, then... Well, Ilya won't assume anything. Maybe Topher has mutant parents or parents who work here. Ilya doubts there will be many others like himself with no one they know left.

"I'm not sure how to make myself at home. I grew up in a small town." A beat, as he processes what 'small town' means in New York versus Chukotka. "By which I mean there were a hundred and four people back home." They could probably fit the town's population in the Institute if they needed to. The thought is dizzying.

He tenses visibly at Topher's next words. "I... well. Uh." He has a sinking feeling, a spike of nerves suddenly. He's not sure if Chukchi religious practices count as witchcraft or not and he's not about to ask and out himself. "I see. What part of Russia was she from?" It's a doomed question, because if the answer isn't 'Siberia' or 'the Russian Far East' then he's going to immediately feel like the primitive of the East stuck in her shadow.

"I mean, not entirely? I lived away from the Institute for awhile, too, but my parents have been X-Men for most of their adult lives, if not part of one of the X-adjacent teams." Topher tended to group them all under the general X-Men blanket, really. "The headmistress, Rachel Grey-Ramsey? She's my cousin. You'll meet her soon. She's great." Basically, in Ivy League terms, Topher was a legacy, though he didn't see it quite that way. Sure, there was a legacy that he needed to uphold, but he didn't view himself as being someone who deserved to be here just because his parents had been.

"Wow," Topher said after a moment. "That's...I mean. That's the general population of a small apartment complex." Talk about tiny. "I'm sorry, this must seem super daunting to you, Ilya. But don't worry. This place. We're kind of like one big family. With lots of soap operatic elements." Because that needed to be said.

"Siberia, I think? I'm not too familiar with her history - and I never really asked her older brother for their history pre-X-Men." That Colossus had been willing to let Topher ride around on his shoulders all day had been enough for Topher when he'd been a child. "Some collective farm or something," he shrugged. "Sorry. I am not one with geography. That's why we have Google maps." This said in more of a self-deprecating tone than anything else.

Dolemeck had been busy reading one of many American history books at his table in the library, when he noted that Topher and a new student had walked in. He blinked, trying to not look as tired as he felt, before wheeling himself over. He had a large smile on his face and offered a hand to Ilya.

"Hello." He spoke in a chipper voice, his English accent coming off a bit stronger today than usual. "My name is Dolemeck Night, and you would be a new student?"

Was this a new student, or a friend of Topher's who was just visiting? He then looked up at pair, raising an eyebrow as they were talking about the Occult book section.

"Aye. That section houses some fascinating books on the Pagan religion and it's European roots. There are many books there on the paranormal, including one on kaos magick!" You could tell that he spent some time in the library, couldn't you?

Ilya shakes his hand immediately, in an attempt to be polite. His nerves about making a bad first impression have yet to wear off. "I am, yes. Ilya Gavrilov. It's very nice to meet you, Dolemeck." Ilya tries to remember everything he ever learned about England. That would be 'London is there' and 'they speak English', respectively. The subject of other countries hardly ever came up back home.

The new mutant's eyes dart to the section and back and he instantly tries to downplay his interest in it. "I wouldn't know much about that kind of thing. Russian's a very Orthodox Christian country." And please, he thought, think that meant Ilya himself fell under that heading. There's a nervousness to his demeanor and a way he says it a little too fast that might give away he's hiding something, although whether these people even know what he would have to hide, he doesn't know.

"There's also a couple of books there that might eat you if you so much as open them the wrong way, so just be careful, okay?" It wasn't altogether clear as to whether or not Topher was being flippant, but sometimes it was good to just listen to the advice of the lifers.

As for what Dolemeck had been doing looking up books on chaos magic, Topher didn't want to know, though after his recent break-up with Jeremiah, Topher himself had perused the section in a pathetic effort to look up love spells, though he had given up after about a half hour. He would never be that guy. Not even for Jeremiah.

If Topher got any weird emotional pings off of either Ilya or Dolemeck, he didn't show it. (And he did, off of both of them. Thankfully, he'd been good about working off excess negative energy build-up lately.)

"Dolemeck's relatively new himself," Topher filled Ilya in. "We've got a pretty good mix of old and new here, to be honest."

Wait, what? "...I'm sorry, my English is far from perfect. Eat me?" That had to be a moment of total translation fail, because it just didn't make sense otherwise.

Books on magic were a strange idea. Ilya wasn't sure where people drew the line between magic and religion anymore, even in Russia; to his mother and his mother's people the words meant the same thing. He only knew that Russia and the United States were almost entirely Christian countries and that he was not here to make waves. He'd go with the flow as much as he could if it meant going under the radar when conflict happened or better yet avoiding all conflict.

So he took the change in topic up with ease and delight. "I didn't know there were other people who were new. It's nice to know I'm not the only one here who's a little inexperienced." And it was. As nice as Topher was, Ilya would think of him now as his better because of Topher's parents being X-Men. Dolemeck would be someone Ilya wouldn't feel inferior around. "To be honest I don't even know how to get one of my powers to work on command most of the time. But I can learn, right?"

"Eat you. You know. Like we do to sandwiches?" He grinned a warm, cheeky grin. Smiling felt nice. Genuinely smiling. He hadn't really done that since Jeremiah had left.

"We're a school. There are always new students, transfers, graduates, that sort of thing. If a mutant ever suddenly manifests, we do our best to admit them here and help them deal with their powers." No one had known whether or not Topher was going to be a mutant until his powers manifested. After all, there was no real way to check.

"Rachel - the headmistress, my cousin - will make sure to pair you up with the right mentors for your powerset," Topher said. "What are they anyway? Your powers?"

"Right." Uh-huh. He's just going to pretend he gets it but he's not sure if he's being made fun of or if this is just who Topher is. He's leaning towards the latter, though. The American seems genuinely nice, and he relaxes a little.

"That'll take some getting used to, I think. Like I said, I'm not from a big town. People didn't come and go." Except for the farmers and Chukchis, but the longer he can keep a lid on being biracial the better. It's not something he's comfortable admitting to with guys; the most prejudice of his classmates back home had been male. Women were much more open to the concept, probably due to the romanticization of that kind of thing in their mind.

"I have a healing factor, telekinesis, and, um, I sort of have telepathy. Telepathy is hard for me to work with. It only seems to work in emergencies."

Is that a bad power set? What's a good power? He realizes belatedly there's little he actually knows about mutants beyond folktales and rumors from Chukotka.

Shockingly, Topher wasn't pulling Ilya's leg. While he knew how to have a good time, confusing the new kid had never been his way of doing it. Newly-minted mutants had way too much to deal with already.

"Trust me, dude, there's a lot you're going to have to get used to," Topher said. His tone was still warm, but there was an edge of seriousness to it. "But we're here to help you out with that. I know it's weird and stuff - I get it. My mutation scared the hell out of me when it first kicked in, and I grew up around mutant powers. But the important thing to realize is that you're not alone in any of this."

Topher noted his powers. "Rachel's got the telepathy and telekinesis down. A lot of people here do, actually. It's probably one of the more common powers." Which was good. It meant that there were many, many people who could teach Ilya. "The healing factor, we've got people with that too," he added. "Honestly, I think you have less to worry about here than you think." Then again, Topher generally was a glass half-full kind of guy.

"My entire life is getting used to things right now," he replied seriously, with a nod. He wonders why Topher's mutation would scare him. Ilya's telekinesis had been useful but only scary when out of control. And that only was once, because of the sheer volume of practice Ilya's life circumstances had forced on him. Surely the child of two X-Men would be well-versed in everything. "I'm not scared of my mutation. It's more like I don't know how to feel about it. I'd like to have it under control, I guess." There was a difference in control under pressure and control when things weren't shot to Hell, and he somehow managed to have the most control when it was do or die time.

"I'm better with the telekinesis than anything else, but I still need a lot of help there. Sometimes I use a lot more force than I mean to. Telepathy, well, at this point I'd be happy with just being able to have an on and off switch for it." A long pause, before he admits, "My healing factor doesn't really need work. I mean, I didn't know I had it until I was accidentally poisoned, and I don't even have side effects from what I ingested, so. At least that part's working?" Ilya is attempting to be a glass half-full person, at least here.

"If it helps - and this is probably not the reading you'll be into - but we've got papers here by Charles Xavier, Henry McCoy, and others on mutations, causes, effects, that sort of thing. It might help you to check those out." Although it was good that Ilya's mutation wasn't scary. These were things that people at the Institute were well-versed in, after all.

"Yeah, that's the complaint I tend to hear from most telepaths," Topher said. "But the staff here is great. Between Rachel and Ms. Frost and the others, they'll have you seamlessly using your gifts in no time." He shrugged. "And, if you never need someone to practice against or whatever - telekinetically toss stuff - I mean. I've been around that stuff forever. I can be your telekinetic punching bag or whatever, y'know?"

It'd also give Topher an excuse to work out his excess negative energy so that the evil psychic entity inside Topher wasn't released again.

"I'm not sure my English is good enough for me to read an academic paper. But when I was first learning I used to make my way through books with a Russian-English dictionary on hand, so maybe I'll pick it up." It's unlikely. Ilya's education before this place was awful. Normally he would know this and embrace this as a defeat before the attempt, but Topher is just so optimistic. Something about his demeanor makes Ilya want to try the impossible. Maybe it's because Topher actually has confidence in him. Ilya doesn't get that a lot.

At the words 'telekinetic punching bag', Ilya flashes to the one time he lost control, the bruises the poor man he threw into the wall had, the dislocated shoulder, and winces. He couldn't do that to Topher when the other guy has been so nice to him despite being so much further up the food chain here. "I can push and throw heavy things. It's light stuff that's hard. I don't need a 'punching bag'. And I don't want to hurt anyone here."

His issue is excessive force. Move nearly six hundred pounds in one shot? Done. Pick up a book with his mind without accidentally chucking it across the room? No luck yet.

"But, um. Thanks. For offering."

"A fellow telekinetic?" He asked, smiling as he used his mind to pick up one of the books from the shelf, and float it over to Ilya. "I can lift a tree branch as well... just nothing over fifty pounds, yet."

He smiled at the two, his hands resting on the arm rests of his wheelchair.

"We have a teacher who's power it is to speak any language. You will be able to ask him for help if you need it, Ilya."

"Oh, you're one, too?" It's oddly comforting to see Dolemeck in action, and he reaches out to take the book by hand, not trusting himself to try to take it telekinetically. "Maybe you can give me some tips? It's fine movement and little objects like this that's hard for me and you seem really good at that stuff." He'd offer to teach the other boy how to move large objects, but he only learned by pushing something physically and adding his telekinetic strength to it gradually over the course of months. That's not something someone in a wheelchair can replicate.

"I wouldn't want to bother the teachers all the time. They already have a lot to do, teaching here." He's not worth it, he thinks. "Besides, the best way to learn more English is to read and practice new words. I have to work on that since this is an English-speaking school."

"I would like that, actually." He felt happy to have a fellow telekinetic to work with. Especially one that was around his age, from Europe, and new. "I learned how to control movement through restriction so to speak. I spent three months paralyzed completely, so I started to try and use my powers as not just a way to help, but a form of amusement."

He held up one finger and started to lift up a piece of paper on the desk he had been sitting at, before. He started to fold the paper in half with his powers.

"You just imagine you are doing things by your own hand and apply it to your powers. Just think that you are folding a piece of paper in half, remember how it feels to do so physically... then think it."

The paper unfolded and floated over to Ilya.

"Here, you give it a go."

He wants to object that he can't, he's never done anything to anything lighter than fifty pounds without breaking whatever it was or flinging it away. But there are people watching and he always does as he's told. He never turns orders down. Ilya is a good guy and that means he takes the paper with his mind even though the familiar sensation of panic sends metaphorical icicles trickling down his back.

At first he can't even hold the thing still, and it wavers up and down violently, as if pulled in opposite directions. He tries to remember the tips he was just given, tries to picture paper in his hands, the motion of folding it.

Without warning, it crumples into the smallest, tightest ball imaginable, and ends up flying across the library.

Ilya hangs his head, embarrassed and feeling stupid and new and it was a complete mistake to come here but if they give him another chance, he'll try harder. He has to bite his lip to calm himself. "...I'm so sorry."

Dolemeck catches the flying ball of paper with his mind and brings it back over. He did not looks angered or stern. He just had a pleasant smile on his face.

"Relax! There is no need to be sorry! You are here to learn, and this is a part of it." He was trying to calm Ilya down. He used his powers to take another piece of paper from the desk and float it over.

"We all make mistakes. I mean, I went swimming at night, using my powers to manipulate my legs in order to do so. All of a sudden, I lost feeling in me legs, and nearly drowned. I was embarrassed, and somewhat ashamed. But I realized I was pushing my powers beyond my own limits, and need to learn and exercise them, so I would not suffer another incident like that. And also NEVER to go swimming at night, or without a lifeguard. That was an important lesson, too!"

Chuckling, he offer the paper up to Ilya once more.

"Would you like to give it another go? You do not have to if you do not want to."

"Actually," Topher said, "the teachers here? They want what's best for the students, and they don't mind helping out. They went through similar things themselves. That knowledge and experience, it really does come in handy." In other words, maybe taking lessons from another student wasn't the best idea. Practice, sure, but the learning bits, well, that's why they had Rachel, Emma, and the others.

"One of the first X-Men, Jean Grey, was a telekinetic and a telepath herself. The school has years of dealing with it. Besides, not every mutant's power works the same way, or has the same sort of signature." There was, after all, a reason why Betsy Braddock was more in tune with creating psi-weaponry for her powers, while others manifested theirs differently.

"But like I said. You aren't alone here."

Ilya's eyes flicker between the two of them. They're not angry at his screw up, and Topher isn't annoyed he went with Dolemeck's idea. No one is about to jump down his throat for how Ilya's been acting so far - so he's actually not sure what to do. He's always lived life with intense structure. This openness is hard to comprehend.

"I understand I'm not alone. I just... don't know what I'm supposed to do now that I'm not."

He doesn't want to do the wrong thing in the eyes of either of them, but they're indicating they want contradictory things, and he doesn't want to pick a side.

"You have to do whatever you feel is best for you," Topher said softly. He could feel Ilya's swirling emotions. Topher was practically eating them up.

"And I mean that. These are your powers and your life. You have to be comfortable with whatever step you take, Ilya. I can offer advice, and so can Dolemeck, but at the end of the day, it's up to you. We can just support you as best we can to help you along your way."

Gently, he placed a hand on Ilya's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to confuse you or frustrate you. But you've barely been here a half hour. You can take it slow. No decisions on anything need to be made right away."

That's hitting the nail on the head; Ilya has never tried to run his own life based on what he feels or wants. That's just not who he is or who he's ever been. He just wants to make people happy.

The touch is foreign and welcome. It's rare that anyone outside his family touches him; he blinks at it, but doesn't dislike the feeling. Actually, even though he can't make heads or tails of it, he kind of feels warm, looking at how Topher cares and feeling his hand on him. He's never just been one of the guys before. Is that it? God, the world is huge and Ilya knows so little about how to even have a conversation it's embarrassing.

"I've never really had a say in anything before, about my powers or anything else. I-" Ilya can't admit to the full truth. It would sound insane and he doesn't want everyone to pity him or act like he's some kid who needs to be coddled. But his SHIELD handler told him he needs to open up and learn how to confide in people. Topher and Dolemeck seem like a good place to start, even if it's only a piece of the truth and not all of it. He takes a small breath and tries again. "I don't know if the word 'Chukchi' means anything to you, but I'm only half white. The other half, my mother's, is Chukchi. So I was never really a full person to most people." He meant to say citizen, but person might actually be a more accurate slip of the tongue. "I was kicked out of school because of it. I learned my powers by working in a mine. There wasn't much else I could do, with my background."

He swallows thickly and tries not to feel the familiar nagging feeling maybe he is exactly as dumb and bad as he was told he was and he deserved that fate. "This place is everything to me. It's all I ever wanted. And I don't want to screw anything up here."

This is the place where people actually touch the dirty Chukchi. Assuming Topher doesn't yank his hand away.

Not In Siberia Anymore [Intro; Open to everyone at the Institute]

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