Anything you want to teach. A heady promise, that— for a moment Erik faltered, struck with doubt and a terrible dread. If Raven was to be believed, all he'd ever brought his disciples was pain and death; what business did he have pretending he could bring this little witch anything but more of the same?
But he couldn't deny it: he was bored. His conviction in his calling had never faded, but here he lacked any practical way to use it. The mutant cause was locked firmly away from him (which, if Carter was to be believed, was for everyone's benefit, including his own) and he was wasting away, all his power reduced to the quotidian utility of opening doors and picking up silverware— but he was meant for more. He knew about power, knew how it felt to wrestle with control, and if he had anything to offer anyone in this pretty minefield of a hotel, maybe it was this.
"Room 23," Erik said, "or leave me a message at the front desk. I check them every day." He looked at the hedge with its cloud of shimmering lights, then back at Jaenelle, his expression reflecting none of his inner turmoil or the unfamiliar swell of hope buried beneath his whirling thoughts. "Keep practicing," he said, nodding at the hedge once more before turning and heading back the way he'd come.
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But he couldn't deny it: he was bored. His conviction in his calling had never faded, but here he lacked any practical way to use it. The mutant cause was locked firmly away from him (which, if Carter was to be believed, was for everyone's benefit, including his own) and he was wasting away, all his power reduced to the quotidian utility of opening doors and picking up silverware— but he was meant for more. He knew about power, knew how it felt to wrestle with control, and if he had anything to offer anyone in this pretty minefield of a hotel, maybe it was this.
"Room 23," Erik said, "or leave me a message at the front desk. I check them every day." He looked at the hedge with its cloud of shimmering lights, then back at Jaenelle, his expression reflecting none of his inner turmoil or the unfamiliar swell of hope buried beneath his whirling thoughts. "Keep practicing," he said, nodding at the hedge once more before turning and heading back the way he'd come.