Sword and Shield | E. Lehnsherr

20. Teaching the Masses

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters is a peaceful place. A safe place. Yet, it still makes Kora's skin itch.

Agreeing to teach had been a decision she made out of curiosity. This man, this telepath, had come to sacred land in search of a girl Kora could not believe existed. He seemed so hopeful yet utterly out of his depths, so why had Kora agreed to share her knowledge of such haunted land?

Perhaps, she is simply bored.

Perhaps, her heart still lies with the myth of a girl dying at the edge of a cliff, a girl known for kindness and love, known for her mercy. Kora hopes that girl found peace in death.

When she first arrived at the school almost a year ago, Pluto had fallen in with the students easily. To see her son smiling and playing as a child should warm her heart, though she could not help but be wary. Pluto understood that.

Not returning home for winter had been more difficult. Though they spoke with her husband each day, she missed his embrace and the heat of his presence. Winter in New York left something to be desired. Kora couldn't stand listening to the bountiful wildlife die with the seasons.

As part of her power, the plants speak to her, confide in her. They spread their secrets, grant Kora their strength in times of need. She does not control them; they simply allow her to wield them.

During the winter months, she had stayed indoors, cocooned herself around small potted plants, and listened to their stories. She particularly enjoyed the small succulents someone had placed around the house long ago, memories spanning from as far back as the '60s whispered in Kora's ear as she passes.

One Sedum morganianum, or Burrow's Tail, had been growing in the library for years. Kora enjoys sitting by the fire, listening to the plant recount its favorite drama, mostly of one night long ago of two men playing chess only for a woman who, in the plant's words, "schooled them both."

"The trick is to not justify their fear, because the moment you do, it will never end." The plant had enjoyed the woman who said that. Boasted about her beauty and her calmness. Repeated how she used to read aloud even if she was alone, almost as if she knew someone were listening. Apparently, she had been the one to convince Charles to have more plants inside and arranged them around the house when he conceded.

But her favorite plant was in a wing of the house now abandoned. One room, away from any of the others has a small Sempervivum arachnoideum on the window sill. It really only had one story worth telling of a man and woman plotting murder for the greater good.

"We fight to end the suffering before it starts."

"And if I cannot promise that?"