[Activity] Objects in the Rear View Mirror...

[Will Stanton]

"I beg your pardon?" Will said, clearly frustrated. "Here we're talking about the temptation to change the world to our liking, and you think I'm taking the piss out of you? Fucking hell, Miriam."

[Miriam Bell]

"I'll cut you some slack because you clearly having a rough time of it right now, but that was a joke."

[Will Stanton]

"Yeah, this was a bad idea," Will grumbled, trying to maneuver his way around Miriam towards the door. "I'm sorry, I'm getting out of here."

[Miriam Bell]

Miriam for her part is not inclined to move out of the way. "You're being ridiculous, Will."

[Will Stanton]

"And you're being cruel, Miriam. Here I am, telling you how I empathize with you, and you think I'm taking the piss out of you. Now get out of my way; I don't want to hurt you," Will frowned.

[Miriam Bell]

"Will. Slow down. I was making a joke that clearly sailed right over your head because you're upset right now."

[Will Stanton]

Will didn't respond, and tried to slip past Miriam without touching her. Normally, he'd achieve this by shifting his way unnaturally around Miriam's figure, but as he was just a chonky meat boy at the moment, he ended up trying to squirm awkwardly around her.

[Miriam Bell]

"Oh for the love of---" Miriam tries to grab a hold of Will and look him in the eyes. Which is difficult when she finds her hands and arms kind of malleable, like warm wax or, well, clay. No, it's definitely wax, judging by the wick sticking out of what used to be her finger. "Will?" she manages before she feels herself diminishing. Wax arm withdrawing into the harder shell of an earthen bowl and whatever she was going to say becomes a faint 'blurb' of wax before it settles and hardens. The unlit candle sitting on the floor smells vaguely like patchouli.

[Will Stanton]

Will cringed as he felt his power activating, taking over Miriam's form and forcing it into one of the myriad relaxation techniques he had been running through his subconscious.

"See, this is why I didn't want to come in," he frowned, turning around to look at the candle. "I don't have experience controlling this, and now you're paying the price," he said, sitting down cross-legged across from Miriam.

[Miriam Bell]

Can a candle frown? Not really, but it's wick kind of flops down disapprovingly. That and it emits some palpable vibes as the wick lights itself on fire.

"Will you absolute numpty. she starts but soon her thoughts trail off. "This... this is... warm. I'm actually not freezing for once..."

[Will Stanton]

Will blew out the match he had used to light Miriam, and took a deep breath of the candle's patchouli scent.

The warmth lapped at...well, let's call it Miriam's head for now, as Miriam's mind tried to rearrange it's interpretations of the senses it was receiving. Attempts to move or squirm were met with nothing -- wax doesn't move, after all. Oh, she had a little bit of control; her 'wick' flopping around a bit as she tried her hardest to move, but for the most part, she was stuck solid. It's not at all surprising that her first reaction was to yell at Will mentally.

And then the warmth happened. One would assume at first that being lit on fire would be unpleasant, and there were probably parts of Miriam's mind that were sending off alarm bells; monsters being burnt at the stake and all that. But no. First of all, the warmth filled her...well, I suppose it would be inaccurate to say 'bones', so we'll go with 'core' instead. That in and of itself was a mild blessing in disguise; without a heart to beat and blood to circulate, Miriam was cold basically from the moment she got up until the moment she went to bed. Even taking a hot shower or drinking hot coffee couldn't really warm her; they were band-aids on a broken leg. This heat, though -- it may be focused on the top of her head, but it radiated through her entire body. It wasn't like the heat had been applied to her; it was more that the heat was becoming part of her; an old friend she had last left in a dumpster behind a casino.

But the physical heat was only part of what was going on. There was a feeling of...well, satisfaction? Contentment? Neither word quite fit the situation. But for someone who spent most of their life wading through astral garbage, there was a feeling of things finally being right in some way. Obviously, this feeling of accomplishment seemed a bit...unearned. All that had happened was she had been lit on fire; any idiot could light themselves on fire, and usually they're referred to psychiatric counseling, not given a lifetime achievement award. But for Miriam, it was somewhat akin to the feeling she got when she delivered a particularly withering putdown, or when the pieces of mental bric-a-brac she had been moving around clunked together in just the right way. And the feeling only increased as the flame continued to lap at her; those physical sensations amplifying and reflecting what she was already feeling. Will leaning in and taking a deep whiff sent a shock of whatever that feeling was right back up her...we'll call it a spine. If there was a place in the universe for her, she had found it.

She knew, of course, that this was bollocks. She was Miriam Bell, not some Yankee Candle bullshit. Will might be comfortable spending the rest of his days on a shelf, but Miriam was still a person, even as the flame burnt. But it was easier to see now why Will leaned into it so much. Chicken and the egg -- had Will become accustomed to or dependent on the feelings he gained when he was shifted and used? Or had that always been part of him, and shaped the way his mutation had sparked? The expression on his face was hard to read, as he watched the flickering flame.

The flickering flame. It had started as external to Miriam, being brought into existence when Will had lit the match. And yet, she could now feel it as part of her. A part she could control -- just a little bit for now, and only with rather significant effort. She couldn't put it out, but the aspects of it, it's size and intensity? Maybe she could so something with that. And as her wax softened and melted, she found she had a little bit of control over that, as well -- not to the level Will would have; Will could shoot an arm out of his side made of wax and do the funky chicken if he wanted to. But the pool of liquid wax on top of her; the beads of wax that ran down her sides -- as long as they were altered by the fire, she could at least somewhat control the patterns they made as they slid down her body, a stark contrast to the unmoving and rigid rest of herself, the part that the flame hadn't touched, yet.

"Patchouli," Will noted. "Dark, musky, earthy. Like wet soil, almost. It makes sense, though I probably would have dismissed it as being a bit hippyish for you. I guess it shows that you're different than Meplomene for sure; I don't think she would have defaulted to something quite so...connected to things."

He mused a little, taking in the aroma slowly filling the room. "Mostly base notes, but then, patchouli has an underlying secret sweetness to it -- one that is sometimes hidden by the spicy overnotes. Yeah, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised in the least."

[Miriam Bell]

Miriam might not have Will's shifting expertise or power, but she has spend years trying to define herself, control her sense of self and form a mental avatar to give abstraction a more easily understood shape. Granted, it doesn't amount to much, under the circumstances, but it's probably more than Will would expect. Which is the melted wax rising slightly into the flame, which in turn sputters into vague shapes of a face amidst the swaying flame, smoke curling like floaty wisps of hair on top.

"Let's not forget that you did this before you psychoanalyze my smell..." her thoughts ring out, somewhat defensively because at least a little of the particulars of the smell are due to - and reminding her of - Wanda.

[Will Stanton]

"Call it even for when you turned me into some eyecandy in the hotel room, or am I still in the red here for the whole 'trying to murder you' thing?"

Will carefully lifted Miriam up, making sure to move slowly -- so as to not blow out the flame, that is. "And I tried to leave here without touching you. I only asked for a pillow," he added, a bit defensively himself. "You mock me going into the woods, but this is why I go into the dang woods."

He paused for a moment, watching the flickering flame. "It...doesn't hurt, does it?"

[Miriam Bell]

"Despite what one might expect from being set on fire it is actually quite... pleasant. And it tells me your own enjoyment comes packaged with the power at least to some extent, much like mine comes with a certain... misery. You're lucky. Well, not this you, but the other yous."

[Will Stanton]

"I'm glad; I was concerned there for a moment. I mean, for all I knew, you could have interpreted this as nothing but torment and pain; Tosh had a severe adverse reaction."

Will waffled around for a moment, finally placing Miriam down on her desk, clearing off a little space for her. "And I'm sorry to hear that using your power invites misery. I've always found a certain...joy in being me. I know that's not universal. But while you enjoyed your head being turned off for a bit when Lippencott blasted you, this is like a chunk of me is missing."

He sighed, holding his hand over the flame, as close as he dared.

[Miriam Bell]

"My powers manifested in a moment of utter grief, pain and confusion. Maybe part of me is always stuck in that moment."

Oddly enough, lacking a body and thus a physiological stress response, it's almost easier to 'talk' about these things as a candle.

[Will Stanton]

"Where was I'm just now 'stuck' in a moment, and I'm giving you the freedom to come outside of yourself, to change your inner life."

Will sighed a little, leaning back as he started to relax some. "Then again, I'm one to talk. I've been stuck in the past for a billion years or more at this point."

[Miriam Bell]

"You've been waiting because what you lost is still out there somewhere. Same as what happened to you now, really. No wonder it hurts."

[Will Stanton]

Will shook his head, but paused, and nodded.

"You're not wrong, for sure. It's all tied up in having one's place in the universe affirmed, I suppose. I'm always a spare wheel here -- and that's not the end of the world, and I'm enjoying the friendships I have here, with you, with Sam, with Tereza, and so forth. But keeping them straight from the relationships I have with my versions of you is an active effort, especially when people like you and Sam, particularly, are so responsible for molding me into who I am today. I matter, on a deep level, to them. I'm a college friend, here. It's different."

He sighed for a bit, and idly ran a finger up Miriam's candle, letting some of the melting wax drip onto his index finger. "There's a sense of purpose from being the Champion of the Morrigan. Or from being leader of the X-Men, or for being Sara's husband. I tried to find that as a member of The Pack, but Sam and her wolves have a connection I'll never have with them, and not from lack of trying on either side. We're working on it, and that's what's important; I'll find my place yet. But that sense of purpose isn't there, and may never be there."

"It's easier when I'm...say, a candle. Your purpose right now is to shine, and to smell wonderful, and to relax me, and you're doing a..." he paused. "A good job at all three. That's why I like to play those sorts of roles; but finding someone who will let me simultaneously be, say, a candle and a friend is nigh impossible."

He rubbed some of the cooling wax between two fingers as he thought. Miriam certainly could feel it while the wax was attached to her, slowly being squeezed, flattening out and rubbed along massive fingertips. It was a new experience, though the closest she might be able to get to would be some sort of deep massage. As Will took his fingers away, the connection to that part of her would slowly fade as well, unless she made an active effort to stay connected to it.

"Of course, that's just how I'm psychologically broken. Like I said, Tosh's reaction just kind of proves that there's an element to all this that's just how my deeply broken brain finds solace in the world; that I'm not normal. But that's OK. We're all a little broken. You, by your grief and pain; causing you to put up walls. If no one gets close to you, they can't hurt you. And I get that, I do."

"And as for you

[Miriam Bell]

"Everyone's broken in some way, it's just writ-large on people like us. I can only assume people would run screaming from me if my power was inverted like that. Everyone talks about walking a mile in somebody's shoes or seeing the world through their eyes but if they actually did it would shake them to their core. We live in our own little bubbles and to step into someone else's requires masks, lies, imaginary constructs and metaphors so our idea of Self does not shatter into a million pieces. People struggle with admitting their opinions are wrong. This? To the wrong person? It's like showing them that there's no such thing as an immutable Self that's sacrosanct in any way. We just tell ourselves that because it's comforting and keeps us from going insane."

[Will Stanton]

"And you? Are you shaken to your core tonight?" Will said, cautiously. "I can't imagine this fits your normal concept of Self."

[Miriam Bell]

"It doesn't, no. But I've been through the looking glass, I know that who I am is just some bollocks I made up. This feels good. Should it? No. But I've been in peoples' heads, I've felt emotions that weren't in line with 'my own' whatever the hell that means. The only reason there's a distinction is because sooner or later I'll loose contact with that other mind, but in that moment? The only barrier is one I pretend exists so I don't do too much harm to myself or others."

[Will Stanton]

"Are you afraid of that, all the time? That using your powers will harm yourself, or others?" Will asked, tilting his head to the side. "That's the reason for the front, isn't it? The attitude you project outwards, too prickly to touch without gloves?"

[Miriam Bell]

"Maybe. Probably. I've hurt people. I've changed people. You, Wanda, the man who killed my sister. They never let me see him, you know. I thought they were worried about what I would do to him, but... they wanted to spare me from seeing what I'd already done that day. I caught some glimpses from the people at Muir, rumors and diagnoses, enough to know that he's stuck. Stuck in that moment of his guilt and my heartbreak. Perhaps for the rest of his days."

[Will Stanton]

"It wasn't your fault. You couldn't control it; it was new, and you were hurt. It is not your fault, Miriam," Will said, bending over to look into the flame of the candle.

"You hurt him. And you've hurt me. And you've hurt Wanda. But I'm fine. And Wanda is fine. We're allowed to make mistakes. We're human. Some of the time, at least."

"And I...I know you're not a bad person. More than anyone else in this world can know. Because I've seen you as a bad person. I've felt you as a bad person. I've seen what you could become if you wanted to. And if you feel that your walls are necessary to stop you from becoming that person, well, maybe they are; you have to cope with how you cope. But I don't think she'd smell like patchouli, and I don't think you're skilled enough to hide that from me right now.

And...like I said. I think I get the temptation. The desire to change things just to make them feel less painful, to feel more right. Because I look at you right now, and I can feel in my fingertips and down my spine and in my gut everything I can do to you right now. I could bend and twist you, reshape you according to my whims, throw you down rabbit holes until you lose all sense of who you are. And it's tempting; it's beyond tempting. And I look and I think and I wonder if this is how she saw me. If that's how she saw the world, as something to be reshaped and twisted to dance to her tune. And if that's how you see the world, the fact that you're doing as well as you are is something to be celebrated, not condemned."

[Miriam Bell]

The flame pops and sputters and Miriam is very glad she doesn't have any eyes to shed tears because somehow that would be more mortifying than being turned into a candle.

"And that is why you're at odds with the world..." she finds some composure after a while. "You wish for something people think evil to impose on the world. Something most think is evil to have imposed on you. Because when you mold thoughts, the world, gravity, whatever it is someone can do, then we cling to limits and rules to try and stop ourselves. Because we've seen those who can't or won't and what they do to the world, mutant or not."

[Will Stanton]

"It also speaks better of you than it does of me," Will acknowledges. "Because you fixed me eventually, and I find I really don't have any desire to change you back at the moment," he said...jokingly? Let's go with jokingly. "We'll hope Tosh gets this sorted out soon, or I'll be the only person left on campus."

[Miriam Bell]

"Even if your friends allowed that to happen, I don't believe you actually mean that."

[Will Stanton]

"I don't know," Will said, now more clearly joking (though it was clear the jokes were somewhat forced). "Driving back to campus in my brand new Rozanov; showing off my latest Narumi fashion line as I stroll downtown, soaking in a bath of Bell to help my skin look fantastic, browsing the internet on the latest McManus. I'd be the belle of the ball, once I figured out what you all did best," he said, waving his arms around boldly.

[Miriam Bell]

"Bathwater." she scoffs mentally, making the flame flicker. "I'd like to think I could do better than that."

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, I was thinking some lovely bubble bath. You know, to fit your bubbly personality," Will teased. "We all have our strengths; and not all of us can be as wonderful as I am."

OK, now he was definitely playing up the fool aspect of things to try to lighten the mood. Didn't need to be a telepath to get that one straight.

[Miriam Bell]

"You'd enjoy that, being king of your own castle. I can definitely picture it."

[Will Stanton]

Will closed his eyes for a moment, and Miriam could picture it; Will's head being as leaky as ever for even an unskilled telepath. By now, she was getting used to the cast of characters in Will's head -- the people she didn't know personally, from Will's home universe, had popped up enough that she could at least recognize them as more than random people, even when they were chairs or carpets or paintings or logs on a fire, as they all were in the brief daydream Will couldn't block. A room full of half-men, half-objects would be nightmare fuel for some, though they all at least seemed to be enjoying it from the very brief snippet Will couldn't hide. And hey, Miriam apparently had a place in the dream, placed in between and side-by-side with a pair of similar-but-distinct Sams, so score one point for friendship there, even if life as a coffee table was unlikely to be her ultimate goal, even one placed rather prominently in the center of the room.

The vision only lasted a fraction of a hint of a moment, as Will brought up what passed for his own mental shields -- deflection, jokes and self-deprecation, the armor of the insecure.

"Ah, only for a bit. I suppose even the jester can dream of ruling for a day, right?" Will chuckled. "But it's just a role, like any other, and not one I particularly play well."

[Miriam Bell]

"You want to be surrounded by your friends and family being happy and it's a nice fantasy to think you'd be able to make that happen so easily rather than the messy tangle of reality."

[Will Stanton]

"There are certainly worse ways to abuse a power," Will said, with a small chuckle. "Though I wouldn't be quite so swift to assign such peaceful, selfless motivations to me. Not sure they hold up under strict scrutiny; I'm just as driven by the mess of reality as anyone else.

Heck, if tonight had ended like I thought, I'd have been ripped from a war goddess by two appreciative werewolves and discarded in a corner. Or not discarded, as the case may be. The best laid plans of mice and men, and all that."

[Miriam Bell]

"Oh I know. I'm trying to be polite."

[Will Stanton]

"Don't strain yourself on my account," Will grinned. "I need a source of blunt honesty in my life from somewhere.

And none of my other friends hold a candle to you."

[Miriam Bell]

"Okay, that's it, you took it a bridge too far. Being a therapeutic candle I can handle but puns will leave a mental scar."

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, I'm just toughening you up," Will laughed, wiping some more melted wax off of Miriam's candle body and letting it cool between his fingers. "I'm pretty sure I'd have to work a little bit harder to leave anything close to a lasting impression on your mind."

"Though if you don't feel like melting down overnight, I'm sure I could find some other uses for you, Candle-chan," he continued to tease.

[Miriam Bell]

"Oh I am getting you back for this once they fix you, I promise you that." Nevermind that she's still in full possession of her telepathy and could put an end to this at any point, but it's important to keep up appearances. Beyond that of a candle.