|Current mood:|| calm|
|Current music:||Recollections - Billy Cobham|
In the middle of a dreamless sleep, a comforting voice gently prodded at the back of Ororo Munroe's mind. And as if she'd never fallen asleep, her wide brown eyes were open. Slipping out from between her warm, richly-toned sheets, Ororo padded across the cool, hardwood floor, her bare feet hardly making a sound. The breeze from her open window plucked softly at her lighter than air cotton sleeping trousers, and nightgown, weighed down by colorful glass beads that reflected her past in their every glint of movement.
Opening her heavy, oak door with not so much as a creak, Ororo stepped out into the quiet corridor and made her way over to the well-concealed elevator shaft as its doors slid silently open for her. Inside the elevator car waited a calm-looking bald-headed man in a wheelchair: Professor Charles Xavier.
"He's gone again."
Xavier nodded as Ororo stepped onto the lift and the doors closed behind her. "Yes, I'm afraid so." Ororo smiled slightly, despite the dire news, at her first teacher, one of the few people in the world she trusted utterly and completely, without a question or a doubt.
"All right, then. We'd better get to work. I've a class in the morning."