om_main | Brian and Eames, backdated to Mar. 21

Brian meets Eames in one of his new forms which leads some interesting conversation.

Eames could feel spring making an appearance with a few extra sunny days. While the winter weather didn't seem likely to let go of its tether immediately, the chill would have to go away soon enough. Eames started tinkering with ideas for a new form to go with the change in season, and after copious sketching and experimentation he'd finally put together something he liked. When the weather hit an extra warm day Eames finally took the body for a romp.

The body was human as always, but with a flair of physical mutation this once. He'd picked a delicate female form, short and lightweight. After mastering wings Eames had a better eye for feathers, and he'd dabbled in the soft down of owl feathers, artistically fanning them out until they faded into human skin. There was a brush of grey and soft pink across the brow and cheek, trailing along her shoulders and fading down the length of her arms. Her hair was a wild burst of color, the soft pinks of rose petals, mixed with warm yellow and peach. Her eyes were the stunning yellow of sunflowers, a subtle cross between owl and human eyes. Full wings might have been nice, but they were rather difficult to hulk around the mansion in. Instead, Eames settled for the lithe frame, working in some of the changes from studying Warren, but in a land based model--and then went running barefoot across the grounds to test the body's endurance and aerodynamics. It was an amazing run. Eames was breathless by the time she came to a stop, but the alterations had made it possible to run much longer than in Eames' standard body. The hem of Eames' cream colored sundress was a bit tattered, having snagged on a branch as he tore by. Otherwise, not too worse for wear.

Eames went inside, heading straight for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. Her breath was finally steadying out when Brian came into the kitchen. Casting a quick glance at Brian, Eames piped up, "You must get this often, but what would you say to helping a lady reach something off a tall shelf?"

Brian started slightly, and felt his tongue tie itself up a touch. How frustrating. He really did need to find a way to stop pretty girls from doing that to him.

"Certainly," he replied. "What would you like?"

Eames gestured to one of the upper cabinets. "There's a pitcher in there, and a tin of raspberry tea. I was thinking of making some iced tea." Even her voice wasn't Eames' usual accent, randomly more of a northern accent to fit the form.

"Right, then." He went over, and plucked the items from the cabinet she'd indicated. "I'm sorry, I do not believe we've met, Miss...?"

"You can call me April for now?" Eames suggested. "Suits the season. At least for today."

Brian blinked, slightly confused at the request. Was that some sort of nickname, then? April? He'd never before been told that someone's name had temporal limitations of some sort. But would pressuring her on it not be rude?

"Uh, alright. April. Here you are," he said, offering her the things she'd requested.

Eames beamed warmly. "Thank you, darling. If you ever find that being brilliant isn't doing it for you in life, you should follow your second calling as a very handsome alternative to a stepladder."

Brian flushed lightly at the compliment - no matter how he tried, he'd never become all that proficient at accepting them when pertaining to anything other than his intellect, and was even worse with compliments from women.

"Where in the isles are you from?" He managed to ask after a moment. Sitting in idiotic silence would be no better than small talk, after all.

Ah, Eames didn't have any sort of motive that would lead to a lie. He was simply too comfortable in this form to give it up yet. It seemed that Brian had no clue who Eames really was, and Eames could only mislead for so long before it led to hurt feelings. "London, although it's been years. The accent is just one of the many things I've picked up. It fit right this morning." Eames went to boil the kettle.

"You typically switch between accents?" Brian asked curiously.

"I typically switch between everything."

Carefully, Brian leaned back against a counter. Had to watch himself sometimes. Lord knew what damage he might cause by accident when distracted by his own social ineptitude. "Everything?"

"Shifter." Full disclosure. Eames busied herself getting the tea ready.

"Like that bloke at the Valentine's party?" Brian queried. "Theodore Eames, I think?"

Eames made a face. "I wish Tessa had never started using my full name. It's wretched hearing it so frequently. And yes, that's me also. Not always. Not today. I'd rather be something else today."

It sounded almost like some unknown form of dissociative identity disorder, except that Theodore seemed completely lucid. Still, the concept that one could simply not be oneself one day was rather odd to Brian. And, quite honestly, given his experiences with Jamie, he was rather weary of those who attempted to ignore reality.

"You often attempt to escape reality this way?"

Eames eyed Brian. "I suspect you didn't have a very imaginative childhood. I'm not escaping reality. Reality is, I can take on whatever form I like, and take on whatever alias I chose, and live any life I see fit in the long run. Would I choose to be this forever? Probably not. But I've been other things longer. We all play our roles, and when you play them long enough you can be whatever you want--or whatever they want of you, I suppose."

"I see." Not entirely, naturally, but Brian supposed he - or she, he supposed - had something of a point. Eames wasn't actually pretending to be someone else. He - she? Pronouns were something of an issue here - knew quite well that at the end of it, he was himself.

Or something along those lines.

"It's too much for most people, I realize." Eames tutted and went to grab some ice. "Do me a favour? Take me at face value. What you see is what I am, even if I may have a different shape tomorrow. You can't really use labels, so stick to what you see in front of you. Today's too beautiful outside to be something stuffy."

Brian slipped his hands into his trouser pockets. "I suppose I will take your word on it."

She gave him a small smile. "Mind blown? I swear, I don't bite. You look about ready to run away."

"More perplexed than frightened," he said, shrugging slightly. "It is an aspect of the human condition that I'd not considered."

"You're a science boy, right?"

"A physicist," Brian agreed.

"Mmm. A fact person."

"I imagine you could say such a thing about a scientist in nearly any discipline," the taller boy pointed out. "It's hardly unique to physics, though it is something of a flattering description."

"I suspect you're always very firmly grounded."

"I'm not sure that I've ever been described that way, but I'm rather unimaginative, I agree." He paused a moment and then, having decided he was thirsty spun to pluck a glass from the shelf behind him. "Any other observations about you'd care to share?"

"You're very tall," Eames said sagely, a small mischievous grin quirking her lips. "And beautiful, but you probably know that already." She trotted over to the kettle to grab the hot water and steep the tea that was waiting.

Brian opened the refrigerator, bending to pull out a pitcher of water. "Tall is likely a descriptor everyone could agree on," he agreed. "Beautiful, I fear, is a term I imagine is reserved for my sister."

It wasn't modesty; Brian prided himself on his ability to confront reality as it was. He knew he was not unattractive in the least. Beautiful, however, was a term he thought meant something a bit more. He poured himself a glass of water. "Thank you, though, for the compliment."

"You're welcome."

"Do you normally wander about handing out compliments," Brian queried as he returned the pitcher to its spot.

"I do, actually," Eames admitted. "People generally don't take it well. We have many modest or shy folk around here. I like nice things. I'm not afraid to mention it."

"I see."   Brian took a long sip of his water. "So you're a shapeshifting mutant who wanders the school handing out lovely words that I'm to take at face value. Is that right?"

Eames touched a feathered hand over her heart. "I feel like you know me so well already!" she grinned.

"But I rather suspect that I do not." He...she...whichever pronoun Brian was supposed to be using, he was intrigued now. Eames was something of a question mark, and so for once Brian's questioning continued because he was actually interested, rather than out of social obligation. "If you would not mind, could you tell me more about yourself?"

"What would you like to know?" Eames asked, not really minding. There's was plenty that he didn't need to hide, a decent amount of his life was public domain, and the rest of it... well it hardly mattered.

"I suppose whatever you're comfortable sharing. Where you are from, where you previously studied..."

"I was raised in South Kensington, and lived there until my family became aware of my powers. I was about 12 when my mother moved us to the United States so that she could hide me away from proper society. Before here, I was studying at a private school in Connecticut. All boys, she hoped it would deter me from shifting even more."

Brian filed that away a bit as he headed towards the kitchen table. He sat and took another sip before finally saying, "Thank you."

She gave a small shrug. "The past is somewhere I can't go back. At this point I don't think it hurts to share it."

"I suppose not." It was not, however, that necessarily made him any more inclined to share. Not that he did not trust Eames, but he was not an especially talkative fellow.

Lucky for Eames, Brian was a much easier read. His public life was easy to know, and his private life... Eames knew his type. He might not know Brian very well, but he could make some logical assumptions.

"Lucky for my family the last name is common enough, and I can change who I am. They need never associate with me again."

"And you would condone that? Not associating with one's own family?"

"I won't fight them. My sister stands by me. I can't force my parents to accept something that they don't understand. What will be will be." He'd his miss mother. Whether he admitted it or not he already missed his father, but it had been years since they'd last spoken to each other directly without Lydia intervening.

"I suppose that may be the wiser way of looking at it."   Not, of course, that Brian had any particular experience with the issue first-hand. It was, however, essentially the stance that Betsy had preemptively taken as well by sharing her mutation with Brian alone and then hiding out in the States. He, however, could not imagine their parents doing as it seemed Eames' had, and had been encouraging her to tell them ever since. After all, they had accepted his own mutation.

"I can't change other people. Just myself."

"And change even on that level is relatively unusual," Brian observed.

"Yeah. Who knows what will happen, honestly, the more mutants are open in the world." Eames suspected that his parents would want less to do with him, if it meant hiding what he was from their circles.

"Predicting behavior has never been my particular forte," Brian said. And it wasn't, though he did have some proficiency. "My sister is far better."'

"She's a telepath, right?" Eames asked casually as she went to poke the tea and check if it was steeped enough.

"Yes."

"I suppose that makes it easier for her."

Brian shrugged. "I suppose so, though she'd the gift long before she manifested her telepathy. She is quite socially adept."

Eames smiled softly. "Sometimes it skips a family member. My middle sister is very shy. I think that the oldest and I stole all the social impulses."

"Perhaps." Brian concurred. Or, he supposed, it was equally possible that he'd simply never been forced to learn the skill because he'd always had his sister to assist him. Not that he ever suspected he would find out; the reality of the situation was that Betsy was the social one.

"Are your siblings mutants?"

"No, just me."

"Another thing that perhaps skips individuals," Brian posited aloud. After all the genetics of it all was fascinating, even though not his speciality. Neither of his parents was a mutant, so far as he or Betsy was aware. Yet both she and he were. Jamie, however, was not. Or, at least, Brian was unaware if he was.

To be completely thorough, though, everyone was unaware if he was. But it might be lost in the madness that was his elder brother's life whole stop.

"After all, it is only Betsy and I that are mutants in my family, so far as I can tell."

"I hope I'm the only one," Eames said quite honestly. " I wouldn't wish this upon Lydia."

"Forgive me if I am intruding," because he was about to ask something that was quite certainly personal, "but is your hesitation for her sake due to your parents' reactions, or because of the current state for mutants more generally?"

Eames smiled, a hint of sadness in her startlingly yellow eyes. "All of the above. She isn't cut out for fighting or hiding, and she deserved to stay somewhere where she is loved and safe as long as she possibly can."

Brian was completely uncomfortable with his involuntary reactions to being with a beautiful woman when he knew that this was not her - his? - usual form. Nevertheless. "So you're a caring sibling, in addition to your other skills."

"Maybe," her smile twisted, going softer.

"It sounds as though you are, at the very least." And it did, truly enough. Far be it from Brian to say he knew for certain, but protecting one's own family struck him as a noble sort of pursuit. Still, he did not give compliments frequently, so he imagined Eames might not realize the magnitude of one.

"Some things are important," Eames said thoughtfully. "You're a twin, you must know that in spades."

"I think so, yes."

"It's nice having more people from home here, I have to admit. Brings some nostalgia. I haven't been back in a couple years."

"True. We are members of a veritable collection from the isles," Brian mused. "It does give everything something of a feeling of familiarity."

"At this rate we'll start out numbering  the Americans on their own land."

"I do not know about that. At the current rate the school seems to have grown at, I would postulate that our percentage will be far lower than it is currently." Naturally, of course, these were rough estimates at best, but they were better than nothing, he supposed.

"Thank god this place is so large. At the rate students are showing up, we're going to need the space."

Brian nodded, and sipped at his water. "I should be interested to see, if this place continues to grow this way, the type of mutations that come through the door," he mused. "After all, it would seem there are already trends with the number we have now."

"Trends?" Eames asked curiously.

"Indeed. Certain types of mutations that seem to be occurring with greater frequency in the student body," he explained. "Telepaths, of various sorts, for example."

"huh. That's true. We've got two shifters also."

Brian nodded. "Precisely. There are a few others like that. By contract, there are some mutations visible here that seem to be unique. The physical mutations are varied, and seem to have little in common beyond being physical, for example. The technopath. Simon Tam's mutation. I wonder at the type of distribution that exists."

"Considering it seems like the possibilities of what we can do can be infinite, it is interesting that there are so may common powers, and some very unique ones," she said thoughtfully.

"Indeed. It is almost so curious as to draw me into biology, though it is not my speciality."

"You'll be one of the many trying to make us your personal science experiment."

"With the number of scientists, or those who think of themselves as such, it would hardly be 'personal,'" Brian disagreed. "However, you neededn't fear. I've enough on my scientific plate at the moment without such diversions."

She grinned up at him. "I don't know. Being your personal project might not be the worst."

Brian had begun blushing before his brain could completely get in on the conversation and remind him that she was not always...well, not always a beautiful woman.   Theodore Eames was, at least at baseline, another bloke. It was not meant with any seriousness.

So he fought past his instinct to become tongue-tied, and replied dryly, "I highly doubt you'd enjoy extended periods of time in the lab."

"I suppose it depends." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I do find it a shame how the research driven can look at you, but never even see you. Even in training, it's all about the working parts. You lose sight of the full picture."

His brow furrowed quizzically. "I am not entirely certain I understand your meaning."

"When you're studying certain things and how they work, you can repeat the same action over and over, so intent on how that one piece works. I do admit that gets frustrating eventually." Eames shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. Perfecting something is great and all, but if that's all you're focused on, there's just so much missing."

Brian was unsure how science would even possible without the repetition inherent in the scientific method, but that did not render her point completely off-base. "I suppose there is something to that view as well. So you will not be joining me in the lab, it is safe to assume."

"As hot as watching a guy take thorough notes is, I suspect not."

Even Brian, who was not known for his sense of humor, was forced to chuff a laugh at that. "I am sorry to disappoint. Perhaps Miss Martin would be more to your taste? Or Simon Tam and Joshua Foley?"

Eames grinned. "Good suggestion list. My taste is very flexible. I suspect there are some trends."

"It is simply a list of those who spend a great deal of time in the laboratory."

"Josh, huh? He doesn't seem as much of the studious type, but I bet he's working at it."

"I believe his mutation may lend him to the environment more naturally," Brian suggested with a shrug. "He is, after all, capable of manipulating living bodies."

"So much work. I envy whoever got powers that come with no effort."

"I don't know that there are many mutations like that. Though, I admit, my experience is quite limited." Brian mused.

"Yeah. Not sure I can think of any."

A nod, and Brian finished the remainder of his water. As he had suspected. Though it was, he had to admit, another piece of the puzzle to think about, along with the trends he had noticed in mutation types.

Eames went to put the iced tea pitcher into the fridge, glancing up at the clock on the wall. If she wandered back in 15 minutes it should be properly chilled. "Going to dash for a minute. If you're around later, I'll baffle you some more. If not, very pleasant talking to you Brian."

"A pleasure meeting you," Brian concurred, lifting his glass in Eames' direction for a moment. "Have a pleasant day."