Grounded [Charlotte]

[Vash Zwingli]

This had not been a good week.

It seemed like gradually every bit of control that Vash had been given to him seemed to be getting away from him gradually. People ask far too many questions when they are given the chance and that needs to be stopped—earlier, when he first started in his given position full time, that seemed to be how things were. Quiet. However, that may have been merely his perception of things as he wasn’t under the microscope—having to deal with everything discretely yet doing as what was asked of him.

How exactly did one go around discretely sweeping people under the rug and containing mutants?

Well the answer there was, you didn’t.

Sure the general public seemed to have—for the most part accepted how things were and that mutants had to be weeded out without a fuss, and that would have been a lot easier said than done if he didn’t have to watch his own temper.

Mutants using humans to hunt other mutants—oh the way the world works.

To top it off these supposed humans that his father had granted him authority over didn’t exactly seem stupid—they knew what they were looking for and Vash had to make bloody well sure that he didn’t seem like one of them. He had to prove to his family—and to himself that he could at least do one damned thing right and that he could be trusted. If not….what exactly was his purpose in this place?

And some of the things he had seen in this past month—yes it was going to take a lot to get used to, and his hands weren’t exactly clean of it. Seeing how they disciplined and sometimes tortured their captives was something that he both found intriguing and horrifying—it satisfied his need to see those things that ruined his life suffer, but he also knew that they weren’t just thoughtless—animalistic beings that people seemed to agree that they were. They had, at one point, families too.

That thought made his stomach twist—it reminded him of the look of fear on his sister’s face when they first discovered that he was a mutant, and that image had never really left him either.

All he wanted right now was to call her—and to have her tell him how everything was going well and that she was safe and happy. He didn’t want to risk that though, as surely his own people had bugged him for any reason he could think of, and phones were the easiest things to bug. As it was he had ensured that no one would track his location by leaving his own business phone in his office and tapping into it with the much more simplistic looking device he had on him. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to follow him to where he was heading now.

He needed to get out all of that pent up stress and anger that he had subjected himself to over the course of his first month working in the position he now had.

This was how Mr. Vash Zwingli found himself walking through the depths of the forest that extended much deeper than most people dared to wander.

The air was fresh and crisp—just taking in deep breaths outside of the urban core made him feel a little better, and the smells and sounds of early autumn did have a certain way of calming him down. If there were ever a place in which he would run away to—it would be here, and he felt like this would have to be a more regular visit to keep him sane while he was working.

His careful steps to avoid snapping any branches stopped, taking a deep breath, Vash removed the thick and heavy gloves. This was more of a task than not thanks to all of the conductors and insulators he had arranged rather carefully in them.

It felt so strange to have his hands outside of those things as it had been months since he removed them last. It felt weird and too easy to move his fingers without the added weight and thickness of the gloves on them, as a matter of fact—he was almost cold without them.

The skin under his gloves was white and raw—not that he could feel it much anyway, but that was half of his reason for wearing the gloves. As a matter of fact, Vash was almost hesitant to move his fingers or walk towards the tree, which he planned to use.

It was just far too strange for his hands to be out in the open like this…and it alone nearly made him forget about his woes of the month, but that would vanish the moment he put the gloves back on and he knew it.

Before he placed his finger tips on the tree beside him, stalling in a way—he adjusted his scarf and pulled it up higher on his face. The fabric was soft on his palms, something he hadn’t felt with his hands in a long time. Eventually, he knew he wouldn’t just lose feeling in his fingertips but it would percolate up into his arms and the rest of his body—there was already a slight sense of numbness he couldn’t shake in his shoulders. But for now, this was enough to make him feel comfortable enough to place his hands on the tree.

This wasn’t going to be easy, he had grown so used to just restraining himself and keeping everything contained that just the thought of this before had made his stomach twist into knots. Now, he was here and he started to feel how much the energy was fighting him and just how tired it had left him since the last time he’d been able to use it.

So when he finally gave in—the output was quite a bit more than he was expecting, the numbness grew more intense and his hands burned from the energy output. Burnt hair, skin and wood started to fill the air as he let the energy do as it wished. The best thing he could to was let it use itself up, as containing it now would be near impossible and only worsen the damage that it was already doing.

He just had to stay calm.

[Deleted]

WORD COUNT 1461 TAGGED Vash Zwingli NOTES I HOPE THIS IS NOT TOO LATE FFFF

YOUR EYES, NOSE, LIPS; YOUR TOUCH THAT USED TO TOUCH ME. This, perhaps wasn't the best of her ideas. Granted, she normally had some pretty good ideas. After all, she did manage to last quite long on her own. She had a good amount of luck to support such good thinking, but it was in inaction that she grew antsy. Inaction was the best course of action at times, but the freedom of a human soul was excitable and was an essence that desired action. Even with the wisest of minds and the most concise of plans, a soul had a tendency to stray from the lines.  She was quite careful, though. Really. It was fortunate that she didn't have such a power as her brother once possessed. A power that could easily fall under the radar unless made very, very clear. One that many humans had to an extent, though obviously not as strong as hers. The power of persuasion was something that most had, with varying strength. But the cat grows bored. She was raised among the humans. In her own eyes, she was a human. Such caution was something she didn't have to grow up with. And even in the comfortable, strategic position she has placed herself, she had a habit of complicating things. She had surely made herself a comfortable resident of Archadia. Having spent some time in Russia, she was able to play the part, no, be the part, of a Belgian expatriate studying in Russia, in hopes of developing an understanding of the enigma that Russia embodied. There were many expatriates in Archadia from what she had seen, and so it wasn't strange at all. She had even taken a small job at a small bakery in the shopping district. Rent on the two bedroom apartment had been somewhat expensive, but it had everything she needed to welcome back her brother... if she managed to finally gather the guts to try to find him in the Underground. She wasn't even completely sure he was here in this very city, and so she scanned the advertisements daily. Besides that little pursuit, she had decided to explore Archadia. It certainly wasn't the largest city in Russia, nor was it the safest, but it was a city that provided for its residents. It is said that the mutant trade had built this city. Affluent people owned houses in Archadia, as they did in Western Europe. They bought their mutant servants from the Underground, toted them around with a smug sense of pride, which was perhaps what Charlotte would have to fake later on when she finally could receive her brother. The rich often went back to their homelands in the west to brag about their new, powerful mutants, and to instate their importance in the world economy. The city has been enriched by the donations of these affluent people, and the more mutants it sold, the more funding there was to beautify the city. It was a city of contrasts, to tell the truth, with its upper-crust rich and its dirt poor underdogs, but it was the city where she would find her brother, thousands of leagues away from the city of Amsterdam, where their ways had parted.  Walking around the city was lovely enough. She had explored the parks and the historical buildings, had some vodka with the locals. The city did not impress her as much as her beloved city of Liege. but she was enticed by something that Liege simply did not have: Blackwoods Forest.  The locals had stories about the forest. The forest was fenced off from the rest of the city, with a tall, iron-link fence topped with spiraling barbed wire. The fence was not very well maintained, as it was simply not a priority for the city to keep people out of the forest... or keep whatever lurked in the forest out of the city. The fence was impossible to climb, from the looks of it, rusted in some sections. It was said that the forest is cut off from civilization, and that  no one really knew who or what lurked in the forest. Old wives tales of Polunocnica, Lady Midnight, who frightened children in the night, lurked through those trees. Slavic mythology seemed to come alive, as she had heard accounts of the prophetic Gamayun that flew through the treetops, Niavka running upon the unkempt grass, Leshy protecting the wild animals and throwing out intruders. Perhaps she did have an interest to encounter such beasts, if they were real. But she, for one, was a pragmatic person. If people feared the forest for the fables, the forest was untouched and peaceful. The fence was most certainly imposing to say the least. Attempting to climb it was a stupid idea she didn't even try to attempt. She had opted to find a hole through the fence. She did find one without too much trouble. As it seemed, some youth perhaps used the same opening time and again for the silly dares that they had among themselves. She squeezed through the hole without much trouble. Applauding herself for being able to be resourceful enough to find a way in, she looked at the path before her. There was an old path that was perhaps used during the time that the forest was actually inhabited by the ancient citizens of Archadia. It made sense for Archadia to have once been among the forest, which was then cleared away. This path, though, managed to survive. It was quite beaten, overgrowth bordering the sides. It seemed that trespassers came in often enough to have somewhat kept the path accessible. She took in a deep breath as she began upon the path. Finally. Alone to her thoughts. She rarely had time to think like this, rarely had time to be away from the craziness of a city. She had grown up, one with the streets. The streets could provide in ways that the forest could not. Amsterdam, Liege, Moscow, and now Archadia... but the Blackwoods Forest, yes... it had a sense of peace to it, though humanity had decided to throw a veil of fear upon it. The cacophony of the city was behind her, and her thoughts were hers. Brother. Reunion. Diamonds. Lost years. All of those things were there, somehow... And now that she was so close to those things, she wasn't so sure she wanted those things back again. What if he really is the monster in her childhood nightmares had left her wailing in the night, and maybe she shouldn't be pursuing this... after all, the natural reaction of a human facing something they fear is to run away from it, or face it. Danger is meant to be something one flees from. But she wasn't so sure how deep that fear ran. The wolf was in sheep's clothing, to say the least. Or it was the other way around, for all she knew. She continued down the path, when she heard... a crackling, as if something was sparking. She quietly followed the sound, clutching onto a tree when she had found the source of the sound.  A man was standing in the center of the grove, a blueish energy flwing from his hands. The air felt as if it were filled with static, the hairs on her skin standing on end... either from the static, or from the fear welling up in her stomach.  Electricity. Most certainly not a natural feeling in the forest. She watched as the man burnt the wood with his bare hands, his hair rising with the static. Upon more observation, she realized... this man looked somewhat iconic. As if she had seen him from somewhere, a poster or brochure of some sort... from some material that she had picked up the other day as she was reading about mutants, with the intention of purchasing her own brother. He looked like one of the men pictured as a director of the MIA. That can't be possible, now can it? Perhaps this forest really was filled with apparations as the old wives warned, and she was simply a victim of an illusion. But that feeling of... electricity in the air. Could that really be imagined?  She began to back away, right foot, left foot... Crack.  Yelping, she fell backwards upon a branch that lay on the floor of the forest.  This wasn't good at all, this really couldn't be happening... She felt the air tense around her, uncomfortable amounts of static surging through the trees.  She held her breath, trying to retain a calm composure. This wasn't happening, it just couldn't be happening... he was a man who worked for the safety of humanity by managing the atrocities called mutants, so how could he, how could he... What was he?

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ

[Vash Zwingli]

The smell of the burning hair and flesh was making it hard to breath, as it grew more and more saturated. But his mind wasn’t focusing on that at just this instance—nor was he focusing on the fact that the smoke was making his eyes water and the magnitude of the energy was causing him to heat up as if it was midday in the tropics. The initial jolt of energy of course had hurt—as it always did, possibly the reason being that he’d spent his whole life trying to keep it detained that he just didn’t know how to use it properly, and well…at this point he was at the mercy of the electricity that he was discharging. The initial pain had eventually subsided though when the burns grew so severe that he couldn’t feel it anymore.

Vash’s usual rigid stance was now hunched over, using the tree, which he was presently letting the electricity move through as a means of staying upright. It was something like a stress release, letting out all of that excess contained energy—getting rid of his headache and the stiffness in his back and shoulders. He had only wished that he had some means of harbouring it to use it just as energy to allow him to be more productive or just stay up longer in the event that he had to concern himself with someone finding something out….But that wasn’t exactly how this electricity worked, at least not that he knew of.

Either way, and despite the fact that getting rid of all of that electricity left him feeling a little weak and his physical reactions slightly delayed for an hour or so. It was a much needed task to get rid of it all—otherwise he feared that he would end up losing his temper and it would ground itself one way or another.

His arms had started to go numb and his mind had started to relax enough that the regret and distain for what he was doing slowly melted away, they would come back of course, but at least they wouldn’t bother him for long enough to get a few good nights worth of sleep. He again, was starting to remember that what he was doing was right—his family was always right and what comes first is your family of course, nothing else….and they loved him enough to not sell him to the underground when they found out. So all of those mutants that were there, they had done something wrong, otherwise they wouldn’t have been put there—all other mutants were evil, monsters and at the end of the day, just mutants. Though some of the things that he had seen would come back and nag away at that belief, that wildly accepted belief that as long as the mutants were detained and treated as pets, that there was nothing wrong and could never be anything wrong.

Ignorance really is bliss.

He sighed, his mind starting to bring itself back to the real world as the electricity died down and a quiet coughing fit commenced from the amount of smoke that he had produced. Both the tree and himself were scorched black from where his fingers had held onto the tree trunk.

How fitting.

If it wasn’t for all of the smoke and the general limpness that he was starting to feel, he might have laughed at the thought. They’d left their mark on each other, yet again. Vash had always made sure that the marks he left on the trees in the forest didn’t resemble a hand—more like sections of tree rot if one didn’t look too closely.

He really did wish that he hadn’t seen the realities of the underground, or what it could be that mutants are made of, he’d almost just rather continue living on in the belief that they had no feelings at all—then he could sleep at night. But seeing some of them cry when they are first taken is something he has a hard time with, as much as he might be able to hide it, it does keep him up at night.

Vash was just about to start cleaning himself up—his shortness of breath due to the smoke and his watery eyes proving to be a slight annoyance when it came to being aware of his surroundings. However, that didn’t stop him from hearing the snapping of the twig from behind him and the yelping that followed suit.

Someone saw him.

His immediate reaction was to grab for the pistol that was hidden away in his pocket, but when he did so he grabbed that metal pen his father had given him as well.

He could make this look like a suicide by a rogue mutant, scorch marks and fake the blood samples—it wasn’t that hard really, technology was far too easy to manipulate in this city as long as you knew how.

When he looked at the woman before him, he frowned—so much for sleeping well tonight. But no matter he had no qualms with even killing a human if he had to so that his ability remained a secret. So he poised the pistol directly at her and slipped the pen into his sleeve. If she didn’t really see anything, he would spare her if that meant he didn’t have to kill a human being, but the only way to find out was to ask.

“What are you doing in these forests at this hour?” His tone was demanding, as it had to be for his job…and in order to lie well.

“What did you see?” He hissed, the safety on the pistol off and his finger right on the trigger.

[Deleted]

WORD COUNT 953 TAGGED Vash Zwingli NOTES From now on, anything bolded is any words she said using her power

OH DEAR, IS THIS REALLY GOING TO BE HOW IT ALL ENDS? After the long journey, trying to figure out the enigma called Russia, it all comes down to this? Never finally seeing broer ever again? No one would ever know how she managed to die in the forest, and it would be written off as poor girl who was attacked by a rogue mutant. A tragedy. She held her arms up in defense, as if that would do anything. The man seemed even more dangerous pointing a gun than earlier. He held it with much more strength and confidence than emitting out electricity. Oh god is this how I go? "Woah there, friendly fire! I beg you!" Were all mutants like this? Threatening, imposing, and aggressive? Grumpy? The look on this man's face reminded her of her brother, though her brother never threatened her with his power. But the look on this man's face... he seemed important. Despite the calm and threatening nature of his remark, it was obvious that no one was supposed to see what had just occurred in the grove. If he really was working with the government, knowledge of the incident would be dangerous for him. If she fessed up and said anything to the government, he would be done for... which meant he was dead serious about silencing her forever. But if she were to charmspeak him, would he notice? Would he turn her in as well? But let's not get rash right away. There's nothing to hide on your part, except your horrible judgement of wanting to explore the forest... if he thinks you saw what you saw, he'd be at your mercy. Or at least he would be, if he wasn't holding a gun. "What are you doing in these forests at this hour?" Not trying to sneak a peek at something scandalous in the making, surely. She got up on her feet again, brushing away the dirt and leaves and straightening herself out. If she was going to be threatened, she would want to be answered to eye-to-eye. If she was going to die today, she didn't want her murderer to stand over her. "I admit that I shouldn't be here, since there's a fence around this place, but that's never stopped me. I lived near the Ardennes in Belgium, and I missed home, so I came here for a walk," she said, her eyes searching his for sympathy. He didn't look like a Russian himself. Or perhaps he was simply one of those New Russians who made it big and cavorted with the west. "And anyways, the fence really does add a good touch to the aesthetic! It reminds me of the Black Forest in Germany, and, I'm embarrassed to say, I was here to investigate some of the stories I heard! Though I admit, I'm not very good at investigating and this is probably the wrong time of day to encounter Polunocnica, but I'll come back midnight to see if I could find her! Though I technically would have to find a child to bring with me, because apparently she only likes scaring children, which is quite absurd because there definitely is a market for scaring university students as well," she said, attempting to break the ice. It technically was the truth, and she wouldn't have needed to use any charmspeak to convince him of any of that, unless her enthusiasm wasn't infectious enough. Maybe it wasn't going to be enough, by the deadpan look on his face. She probably seemed like an idiot by accounts of that story, but maybe he needed to stop being so serious. "I haven't found anything yet, but I can show you my sketches if you would like, Mister Forest Ranger. I didn't think it was the style of Russian forest rangers to threaten people with guns for walking in the forest. I understand it's forbidden to be here and all, but you have a really nice forest here. Keep up the good work," she said, finishing off by implying that she didn't know what his function was. Maybe it would help in the long run. Maybe it wouldn't. But maybe if he thought she didn't see him being anything other than a forest ranger, maybe... Well, at the very least, she would appear like she was a dumb university student, rich and naive from Western Europe. It was pretty obvious that he made contact with something that produced smoke, and the tree behind him said otherwise. It wasn't like she would care, though. She just wanted to get out alive. "What did you see?" he hissed, still pointing the gun straight at her. "I think it would be a bit more polite to have a conversation without weapons and impending doom pointed at each other, don't you think? May you please put down the gun? I have no weapons on me, I can tell you that," she said, opening her bag to reveal a schoolbook, a sketchpad, some pencils, an eraser, and some flowers. Shit. Charmspoke that last bit. She just hoped that he would attribute the desire to put away the gun to mercy in that hardened heart of his. Shooting a young woman without weapons is pathetic, after all... She watched carefully for his reaction. Watched for any relaxing in his body language, any softening of his expression. She hoped his heart wasn't too hardened, or that he would notice an unprecedented shaking of will. "Just... I didn't see anything, I swear. And I didn't cause the smoke. I was just about to flee because there might have been a fire," she said with downcast eyes. "I swear I didn't start a fire."

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ

[Vash Zwingli]

Seeing the woman that had stumbled before him, she reminded him a little bit of his own sister—just for a moment, except for she wasn’t as petite as her. She wasn’t from here however; at least it didn’t really look like it. He had made a point to be able to at least recognise the vast majority of the people in the city, and he had noticed similarities in how they acted, looked and even smaller things such as how they looked at you when they talked to you. He had a feeling she didn’t know his title either from how…carelessly she seemed to speak, at least in comparison to others. All of this, for a moment made him regret pulling out the gun because he wasn’t really completely sure that she did see everything, but he had heard her and it was still better safe than sorry. She also didn’t speak like anyone from around here either, not like he was exactly a native himself though. No his family had moved here when he was little from Switzerland for the financial gain of course, and well he ended up being sent back for the private schooling he had to endure—there they were much more….tolerant of mutants provided that they didn’t pose as a major threat to national security.

Seeing her reaction to the knowledge that he was, indeed more of a threat to her than anything she could do at the moment did give him a little reassurance however, but he also didn’t know anything about this woman and that still left him a little uneasy. Was she also a mutant hiding like he was—he often wondered that about the people he came across in the city, imagining that there could very well be others hiding as he was didn’t exactly bring about his sympathies however. No, all mutants that were born as such—they were monsters, hiding or not. He was told that from the start and there wasn’t going to be any easy way of convincing him otherwise. Vash was even weary of his own abilities…if he didn’t have the gloves he had, they would rule everything about him…his own body just some sort of twisted battery to fuel the constant need for energy from his powers. It would also be a lie to say he hadn’t experimented with exhaustion to see if the electrical demand would stop. It didn’t…it seemed to just be part of how his body worked, like his heart using energy to function.

That aside, Vash didn’t exactly feel any sympathies towards the woman, at least he wouldn’t let himself. As innocent as she may seem, she was still here in the forest, which had been specifically closed off in terms of access. No good came from anyone wandering this area…particularly at this time of night. And well, Vash would be the perfect example of that at the moment, so he would know. As it was, any regular person wouldn’t step foot in the forest….not unless they were suicidal or lacked all logical thought to be able to predict the possible consequences. Even if she was a regular person however, it didn’t matter…if she saw him she would have the potential to ruin quite literally everything, and he was rather fond of that NOT happening. The rambling from the other also didn’t exactly ease his doubts that she didn’t see anything. She must have, otherwise she wouldn’t be rambling like that, and so the safety was removed in a matter of a second. Vash didn’t like having to do this, even having to kill a mutant or two left a bad taste in his mouth in the long run. But he had to keep everything under wraps, no matter the consequences. And a gun was cleaner anyway…better than having to use his own hands like he had the first time he had been forced to kill someone. Even if they were who he blamed for being what he was….it would be a lie to say he didn’t see the look of horror and pain in their face every night since then.

So she was Belgian was she? Well…that would be interesting and he was slightly curious to see her opinions on the matters of these things, as Switzerland was more forgiving towards those born with mutant powers, he had heard that Belgium, like most of the west, was a little more liberating to mutants. But that’s why they moved in the first place, his father being the way he was wouldn’t exactly do very well with Swiss politics if he was outwardly known for his hatred of mutants….and it wasn’t profitable.

Forest Ranger? Scaring little kids? He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but really in the end it didn’t matter. He didn’t know how much she was trying to play him, but to be safe he assumed everything she was saying was a lie—and that she knew exactly what was going on but wouldn’t admit to it. Why would she? He had a gun on her.

The initial nerve she had to request to have the gun removed from the conversation, however, did spark a flare of his temper as she spoke, only holding his grip tighter on the gun. He didn’t care what she rambled on about—and yet when she asked he felt compelled to do just as he asked. That was….strange. He didn’t really know exactly just why he felt like he could trust her enough to put the gun away, but he didn’t want to have it out anymore. Well…that in itself made him more uneasy, once his mind was made up there was no changing it…especially not from something so simple. So the grip on the gun only tightened more, as if forcing his resolve by holding onto it more firmly. The only person that could easily change his mind like that was his sister, and she was certainly not that.

But with her begging it did make him feel a little bad for a moment…but at the same time, the confidence she had when telling him to put the gun away, and then the sudden switch to acting as if she was just a silly lost girl didn’t ease his suspicions at all. If anything, it only caused him to jump to the conclusion that she was a good liar—maybe a bit hasty, but a good one. And if she was lying now, then she actually did see something….and that was not something he would tolerate being left out in the air.

“Don’t lie to me, lying won’t do you any good.” He hissed, moving a little closer to her as much as his heart told him not to. That desire he had to put the gun away only made it worse….and it was bothering him quite a bit—It wasn’t something he would have thought of, not when he was this sure. So his confusion only fuelled his anger and his brows knit together, he could only blame it on her….he didn’t know how…but that was all he could think of. “What were you doing…with your voice?” He commanded, adding to the list of questions he had, he wasn’t going to trust anything she said and she’d have to kill him to get the gun out of his grip now. That stubborn resolve didn’t only show in his voice and expression, but his stance as well. He was ready to shoot her if she tried to run, and he wasn’t going to lower any weapon until he got answers.

[Deleted]

WORD COUNT 1217 TAGGED Vash Zwingli NOTES From now on, anything bolded is any words she said using her power

THE BEST LIES ARE GROUND IN TRUTH. If one could not refute your claim, and the only argument in their arsenal is "You're lying, how could you be so stupid to do that?!", you had them around your finger. Or at least, you had some confidence.  She almost had to internally wince at the fact that she had been able to move his will. He didn't seem to be the kind of man whose will was easily moved, and so the shaking in his will had to be cause for suspicion. But some people needed that sometimes. Some people needed their wills shaken, and because she hadn't fully intentionally charmspoke the command, it was weak. Her rambling detracted from the charmspeak, anyways. Perhaps her rambling was a bit overwhelming to who seemed to be a man of few words, but this certainly was a time that proved that the more she spoke, the less effective her charmspeak would be. Only use to be used for emergencies. Need to make sure not to waste more words— who knows how convincing I'll be with such a strong will in front of me? If he could already sense that something is amiss, he musn't be used to people ordering him around. Or perhaps not even used to having a special someone to spoil. Now that would definitely make this much easier. If anything, she was certain that all her talking was perhaps a bit too forward for the young man. She could listen to herself talk all day if she had anyone to talk to (not that there were many very good conversationalists here in Archadia— perhaps the Russians were as closed off as she had heard they were), and this rambling was rhythmic, even a bit musical with her chirping alto twitter. But none of that seemed to prove herself truthful.  He can't prove you're lying, sweetie. But can you prove you're truthing? The sudden change in tone's what's going to give you away. “Don’t lie to me, lying won’t do you any good. What were you doing…with your voice?” Play silly, play dumb, play innocent, just never play guilty. Play confident as your tone. He won't be able to tell a good liar from an exceptional, genetically-gifted liar, now would he? Not if you lie fine. "What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head. "I only asked you to put the gun down. Nothing more, nothing less. I just don't think it's very friendly to point guns at strangers, especially when they're not armed themselves! It's a bit unfair, don't you think? If you're to shoot me down, you should at least give me a fighting chance. Give me five minutes to run, or perhaps provide me with a firearm yourself." She laced each worth with just as much sugar as she could, especially emphasizing the fact that her only crime was asking him to civilly put his gun down. She perhaps didn't even need to charmspeak that point to emphasize it. After all, she spoke truth, and if he refused to believe truth, well... She crossed her arms, gathering her full confidence. If she was going to make it out of the forest and find her brother, she had to prevent this young man from committing homicide in the forest. If the confidence was causing fear, that was good. If anything, she would have thought that any faltering or hesitation would be called out as lying. "Now why would you think I'm lying? A girl can't go out and explore? And now that I think about it, why are you out here? I'm not sure what the forest rangers here in Russia wear, but now that I think about it, you're dressed a little too staunchly for that kind of work. You don't seem like the kind of person to be lifting logs and clearing trails..." she said, scrutinizing his outfit with a careful eye. She dared to come closer to the man to brush off a bit of leaf off his shoulder. "Have you been climbing trees or tripping into leave piles?" she said with a bit of a laugh. A bad liar wouldn't be able to seem at ease. She giggled like a school girl seeing her first crush from a second story window. "And what do you mean by my voice? I'm not doing anything with my voice. As if I'd try to flirt with someone in the middle of the forest, who happens to have introduced themselves in an unusual manner!" She particularly enjoyed being just a bit theatrical, if anything. If she was going to go down, she was going to have just a bit of fun with it. And besides, there was an off chance that he wasn't expecting such ease. To fluster or to bother the opposition... well, there is a reason why they say to be disarming, darling. "Though I could do some pretty good impressions. I had considered a career in acting before I made up my mind for politics. Cannes always needs new faces, after all." With her hands at her hips, she felt invincible. The more truth in her words, the more powerful she felt. The truth was the sharpest knife of them all. "Bouchard certainly thought my sensual voice was perfect for his indie film, Sans Bornes. I simply don't use it anymore. Not with what I have to work with now," she said, sighing wistfully. She turned her gaze towards him, looking him directly in the eyes. And what beautiful eyes those would have been, had they not been filled with what seems to be paranoia or hatred. Almost like broer's eyes... "I never thought the Russian system to be so cruel as to presume a person guilty without reason. I still plead innocent to my 'crime', whatever crime you decided to pin on me. I can't argue that I didn't come into the forest illegally. I did see the signs. But perhaps I need the time to think and be alone with my thoughts, especially with my lack of friends. You see, I've been interning at the offices of the Archadian authority, but I had been unfortunate enough to be given a lowly position, dealing with the government-owned mutants. I suppose this really is the only place I could put myself at ease, as it seems close enough to the Ardennes... The job grows fairly lonely, and living with the constant fear that one of them could retaliate against you..." she shivered at this point, her eyes fighting a film of water. She said that in all truth. The loneliness of the Russian landscape enveloped her, threatening to suck away the brief sunshine of the days she and her brother were not struggling on the street. Was it worth coming all the way here to find that sunshine again, when she had a pretty swell life in Belgium? Were those days with her brother the sunniest ones in her life? She simply couldn't say. All she understood now was there was a coldness that embraced humanity and mutanthood alike here in this place. "Well, I'm sorry for bothering you," she said, holding her hands up in surrender. "That's the reason I'm here, and I see no reason to be defensive about it."

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ

[Vash Zwingli]

Vash’s patience was waning rather quickly—well what little patience he had to begin with, and he couldn’t help but find himself more on edge as the woman spoke. She was talking about things that really didn’t matter in this situation….was she panicking? No it didn’t seem like it. There was too much confidence in her tone to say she was panicking. And that…in a situation when you were unarmed and being accused of something that you genuinely didn’t do while having a gun pointed at your head wasn’t exactly what you would expect, and so it only rose Vash’s suspicions.

And that strange desire to listen to her when she told him to put it down, he could sense it and that was not like him…no not in the slightest, he knew that much. Vash knew himself well enough to know that if there was any chance of danger or of his….abilities having been revealed to anyone, then he wasn’t exactly likely to put down his weapon of choice—not for anything. Well…unless he had something against them or came to an agreement, but really using a gun was much better and easier than having to verbally dance around information that he wanted to keep hidden himself, while trying to prod out information from the opponent. Yeah, he didn’t think so. So he had absolutely no problems at all with ignoring that little desire to put the gun away—he knew all too well that whatever was telling him to do so wasn’t his own survival instincts, and his survival instincts were the things he listened to first and foremost.

Her talking wasn’t helping her own situation, Vash knew how good liars worked—Russia was full of them and he frequently found himself having to take them apart bit by bit to keep things in order. And well…best of all he was raised by a politician. She was far too comfortable with what words were rolling off her tongue….too comfortable for it to not be a story she was all too used to putting herself in, she was too convinced of herself. Truths rarely fit together so nicely, the only confidence behind them when they were said…they weren’t made so theatrical and grand. Nor did they make the speaker act like they were playing with their food—and that is exactly what these…flirtatious movements equated to in Vash’s mind as she moved forward. She wasn’t innocent, she wasn’t like Lili—no she could weasel her way out of these situations without any sort of protection. He could see that from how she held herself, especially with the fact that her moving closer to him only made him feel more threatened—and he nearly pulled the trigger right then and there as she brushed the leaf off his shoulder.

He would have, as a matter of fact had he not been focussing on where her hands were going—in case she wasn’t nearly as unarmed as she said. If that were the case, it would have explained her comfort with the situation…however it did indeed seem like she was unarmed, even if she didn’t seem like it. Vash wasn’t exactly going to fall for any of this flirting crap any time soon, he knew better than that. Maybe she wasn’t doing it outright but he was certainly getting that vibe of “try to make their heart melt and then win them over” nonsense from her, and unfortunately for her that was the first thing he had been taught to be weary of.

One thing that he could tell that she was being honest about, at least, was the fact that she was indeed Belgian. He didn’t know the country extremely well, but he knew it well enough and he could tell a fellow non-Russian from a mile away. The fact that she was so bold as to question him by the way he was dressed really struck that one home—as here the process really seemed to be that once you knew someone was of higher authority, you didn’t question them. You just didn’t. It was also rather evident from all of this that she had no idea who he was….and he was okay with that (especially if she really did see him using the electricity.)

“Tell me what you saw.” He hissed, his temper was calming a little as his initial shock from someone being able to sneak up on him wore off, but his tone was still far from kind. He felt threatened there, as he knew that if she saw what she had, his entire world could come crumbling down. This potential knowledge she had and the fact that she wasn’t begging for her life like any other pedestrian would didn’t exactly make him feel at ease, and it kept on making him think back to the weird way her voice changed and how it seemed to get into his head a bit…but only sometimes.

Could it be?

She was a mutant wasn’t she? No one could other than his sister could waver his will like that…especially with such pointed words that had no significance to him.

But what did make him pause was seeing the genuine hurt that she seemed to hold from being in Russia…that…that he could tell was real. It was written all over her face just like the tears that were daring to ruin that pretty little emotional mask she wore….well…it would have been more fitting in this part of her act. But she wasn’t acting…no…he knew what it was like to feel home sick—oh how he knew. And that look on her face did remind him just the slightest bit of his sister and her own feelings when he told her about the mountains.

But this was no time for sympathies. No time for homesickness. Vash knew that, he helped run the system in this twisted Russian land and so he knew that you couldn’t be friendly and act on sympathies if you wanted to survive. No that was how you got yourself run over.

And so his gun didn’t waver from its target area even once.

“Tell me what you saw mutant or I’ll take you to the underground myself, if you live to see it.”

[Deleted]

WORD COUNT 1363 TAGGED Vash Zwingli NOTES From now on, anything bolded is any words she said using her power So sorry this is so late! ;;

MUTANT. A SLUR WORD. A VULGARITY. Dehumanizing. The term was utterly, utterly dehumanizing. It was an insult to call someone a mutant. She didn't react to the label with fear, as many mutants would. She never identified with the label. Mutants, she believed, were the other. The despicable, the accursed, the lower. That was what the term "mutant" was defined as by societal standards. She couldn't quite define it as quite as dirty as others in her department would scorn. Mr. Tulip Man protected me. He wasn't quite an animal. But was he human? She couldn't quite answer that question. Through her interactions with her department, she found that question more and more difficult to answer. Not animals. Not human. There was only one thing that she was certain of: They were beautiful... but dangerous. She knew that the moment he hurt the social worker with his diamond, managed to gouge the man's eye out. That's what it was. Too dangerous for the world outside their bondage. And she believed she wasn't beautiful, nor dangerous. No, she was the one in danger. She was useless, she was one whose value was difficult to determine. Politicians would kill for her... almost unnatural power of persuasion. But what was her "ability" in comparison to those who are deemed "mutant?" Simply a good talker. A good actress. A good negotiator. One that would be of no use in the arena or in fighting rings. She fought a different kind of battle, and it wasn't a battle that could be physically accounted for. "Tell me what you saw, mutant, or I'll take you to the underground myself, if you live to see it." Looks like all there's left to do but tell the truth. He'll believe what he wants to believe. But something moved in him, and there has to be a reason for that. Sadness, wasn't it? "I am no mutant, but I'm sorry if I smell like one to you," she said, looking away from him, focusing on the gun pointed at her, looking towards the forest behind him. "Take me to the underground. I dare you." She pulled it out. Her Archadian government identification card, her picture shining to the left of her name. "Charlotte van Rosenfeld. Gender: Female. Birthday: April 19th, XXXX. Citizenship: Belgium. Division: Property Protection." "It wouldn't be logical to have a mutant working as the equivalent of babysitter to government mutants, don't you think? I work for the Property Protection division and attend to the government-owned mutants. It's not a job I want, but it's a job I need." She could tell the sweet crap wasn't working on him at this point. It seemed as if someone else in his life held that space firmly, and that anymore tampering with it would raise more suspicion. He wasn't that far from the mark. By societal standards, if people knew of what she could do, they would cower. They would fear for the possibility of her commanding harm, of changing their thoughts, of taking their humanity. Though she had only recently come to realize the extent of her power, and the existence of it, she now knew it had been active the moment Mr. Tulip Man was plucked from her embrace. The moment she had to speak for herself and convince people otherwise. This man wouldn't be the first person she has had to convince of her humanity. Belief was a beautiful armor, she reasoned. As long as she truly believed in what she said, it was certain that she could convince them otherwise. It was rare for her to find such closed off people such as this man, whose beliefs were armor as strong as her own. She very well knew her capabilities— she perhaps could get out of this situation much more smoothly if she wasn't afraid to use full persuasion. But has she ever used full persuasion on a person? She'd rather not try. And she'd rather not handle that kind of control. Especially not when she had a gun pointed at her. And she knew what card to play. If it wasn't flirting, it was sympathy. He had a pain in his rage-filled eyes that reminded her of her brother's upon panicking when he had managed to kill their beloved pet with his power. "I'm not the mutant. My brother is. Take me to the underground for all I care, I miss my brother, but I can't buy him back," she said, folding her hands, looking directly into his eyes, emphasizing every bit of truth from that statement. "The moment he revealed his powers and how he used them to take care of me and put food on our plate... it scared me. It scared me when he accidentally trapped our dear cat Astrid by turning her carrying box into pure diamond... it killed her. It killed her, and I was afraid of his touch ever since. I was afraid of what he could do. What he was capable of. That I could be his next victim, even if he didn't mean it." She felt wetness on her cheeks as she told this story. It was a story she rarely told. Her usual flights of fantasy normally worked, but when his belief was impenetrable, truth was the strongest weapon she had.  "I miss my broer. You call me a mutant, but he was the one that was the mutant. I'm powerless compared to him. I was useless, and once he was caught, I was sent away. I'm normal, and he wasn't. He hurt me by hiding it, but he hurt me more by being taken away. He hurt me with the possibility that he could have killed me anytime by accident, just as he accidentally killed Astrid." She wasn't sure whether this was truth. But it felt like it, even if some of the details were changed. It felt like truth, and that was all that mattered. But she wasn't answering his question. "You remind me of broer, you know that? Sometimes, I wish I was the mutant," she halfheartedly laughed. "At least I wouldn't have been powerless. There's no convincing you otherwise, I guess. And I guess there is no such thing as the perfect liar. But I'll admit I'm a pretty damn good liar, or else I wouldn't have been able to get here the rowdy streets of Amsterdam I grew up in. You're right. I did say something." She crossed her arms and looked straight at him, straight through him with her best conviction. She wanted her gaze to pierce. He could make his own conclusions on her moving his will. But if there was something, someone in his life that he could attribute to her, the conclusion he could draw might attribute the shaking in his soul from her reminding him of the person that had some hold on his psyche.  "I saw it, but I have no reason to report you. Not when I'm desperately looking for broer and desperate to stay out of trouble, and most importantly, desperate to live. I was never the begging type. You learn to stop begging when they kick you to the curb and you learn you need to steal to get what you need. I'm a much classier lady than that now. I won't report you, because I have no reason to, and I know you would do all in your power restrain me from doing so. Even if I did, I have nothing to gain from it, and I have nothing to gain from you if I blackmailed you with it. I want to leave Russia as soon as I could purchase broer... if I ever find broer, that is. And you would gain nothing from killing me. A bullet in my body could be traced back to your gun, and if you attempted to harm me with other methods..." she said, keeping her gaze as steady as he kept the grip on his gun, slowly wiping off streaks of water off her face with trembling hands. "Either way would be unnatural. I won't say anything, and I am true to my every last word."

MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS & THQ

[Vash Zwingli]

THESE ARE THE DAYS WHEN I HATE THE WORLD HATE THE RICH, HATE THE HAPPY, HATE THE COMPLACENT. TV WATCHERS, BEER DRINKERS, THE SATISFIED ONES. BECAUSE I KNOW I CAN BE ALL THOSE LITTLE HATEFUL THINGS AND THEN I HATE MYSELF FOR REALIZING THAT. BE SAFE, BE SAFE.

1307 WORDS @asu TAGGED Vash is such a sucker for girls crying... notes

Hearing her calm delivery didn’t exactly help his temper, not in the slightest. One thing that was worse than people that tried to lie and control Vash, were people that seemed to be so at home doing it. It meant they did it so often that they probably didn’t even realise they were lying half of the time. He didn’t like it as he knew that it could result in confusion—especially if the liar mixes up the truth with their own lies, to the point where their entire world understanding is a series of self made fabrications which they got so used to saying that they now, themselves, believe. That aggravation started to show in his expression, and luckily started to burn away the moment of weakness he had for her—just enough to clear his head again as he looked her over properly. She was young—well taken after, that much he could tell…but he didn’t need to see her to tell that. He could tell that she had some form of authority merely from the way she spoke—or well she was used to acting like she had one anyway from the sound of it. Again…she just seemed far too at home in her own lies for him to be comfortable with the way she spoke. And then there was that strange little control thing she seemed to be able to do with her voice. Yes, Vash was sure that wasn’t a matter of her being a charming speaker that could convince anyone to do anything she wanted from merely smooth talking. No there was something unnatural about it and that much he could assure himself. It was something just unnatural enough to seem like an explicit talent that would warrant taking her in for testing to verify whether or not she really was a mutant. And well if she wasn’t…then that truly would be remarkable. Vash was drawn out of his thoughts not long after he’d begun to calm down when she pulled out the familiar government issued identification cards that they had to wear on them at all times and acted as a pass code to gain access to different areas depending on your level of clearance and job. Hearing what she said after flashing the card at him only made him smirk for a second before his trademark scowl set itself back into place. She hadn’t quite seemed like the naïve type before this…maybe a bit of an idealist but now he could see that wasn’t quite the case. If that wasn’t a fake ID, and it would be rather hard to fake one with the odd way things were run and well, put together here. As he was the director of the CIA he had access to all of the records of those who’d been tested, and there was a subcategory for the different employees. He couldn’t particularly recall seeing her name or face anywhere, even if it was extensive, he had made a point of remembering at least enough of a face or name to identify them if he had seen them on the street. He needed that to play it safe in terms of keeping himself concealed, and he didn’t recognise her. Another thing to note was that if she was part of the government operations—she’d be new, or she’d have to be, or at the very least lower down on the chain of authority as he hadn’t come across a government official yet who didn’t recognise him (unfortunately), as the family resemblances between he and his father was rather strong, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that the son of one of the politicians was one of the new directors of mutant affairs. “You haven’t been tested yet.” He stated rather plainly, as if it were to explain his entire thought process and well—the fact that oh yes, the government seemed to have the uncanny ability to unknowingly employ mutants to control mutant affairs. Then again, he also knew well that not just anyone had access to those records, many more people didn’t than did within the governmental departments…but he figured there wasn’t really any harm in revealing that small amount of that information now. “You’d be surprised what sort of ignorance the government has when it comes to who they employ if they aren’t caught as a mutant right away.” Vash’s gaze, however, began to soften ever so slightly again when she started to tell him the story of her and her brother—immediately reflecting back on when he had discovered his powers and how he had been afraid he’d hurt his sister. He hadn’t…thankfully, but that was only due to the fact that he’d been in a tree house when it had happened—so the most direct path to being grounded was through the trees and not his sister. He could, to a degree tell that she was telling the truth when she spoke—reminding him for a moment of her, of Lili (his nickname for her) and her incessant worrying about hurting himself or being seen by his parents. But still, that strange…compulsion to pick up on certain words which he wouldn’t have usually kept him on edge—and if anything only solidified his suspicions that she was, indeed a mutant. At the same time, he genuinely believed her, to a point. He believed the basics of the story but knew in order for he himself to survive, he couldn’t ever trust everything he was told, word for word, because that was just far too dangerous. “There’s a difference between a good liar and an unnaturally gifted one.” His gaze narrowed a little as she continued to speak, the pistol in his hand remaining poised directly at her as. As much as he started to feel the slightest inkling of pity for her, it was just too dangerous to lower his guard. From the reports he had read, he recalled a certain mutant with the ability to turn things into diamond—a particularly unusual power and it could provide a lot of profit for the government if they actually managed to control him somehow. At least that was what he’d concluded upon reading it, but he knew it was much, much more complicated than that and so while he could inquire as to why that mutant was for sale—ultimately, it didn’t matter. He had yet to come into contact with this one, but he knew where it was and could, well, ultimately go down and request to see him without really being questioned. He just needed to have security with him, as it was too dangerous for a director to go down there unaccompanied. He did, however, feel his shoulders grow tense and his anger flare up ever so slightly when she confirmed that she had, indeed seen him using his own powers. The fact that she seemed to give particular sway to the words that implied he should trust her, and that thought at the back of his mind that compelled him to believe her only made his gaze narrow more. “You underestimate who I am…I could kill you with a rope in the middle of a busy street and no one would question it.” He bit out, getting frustrated with the strange shaking of his will that she seemed to do. “If you keep on using your voice like that I’ll be forced to shoot you.” His tone softened a little when he saw the tears that were starting to fall on her face and he felt the slightest desire to help her begin to grow. “If you stop changing the way you speak to me so I’ll believe you, I’ll lower my gun. But don’t try to run, I can shoot faster than you can dodge I promise.”

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