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ax_mainProfessor Xavier has asked his defacto campus development team to go meet his latest staff recruit in a highly unusual place. He's not quite an instructor, and he's not quite a doctor... He's a cook and a gardener, albeit possibly the strangest the boys have ever met.
Six miles northwest of a town called Shadycreek Run in the state of Oregon, the Blooming Grove waited patiently, as it had done for centuries. A blight had long since settled in upon the woods surrounding the grove, stripping the trees white and making them brittle in death. Only snapped limbs and fractured trunks remained, looking like nothing so much as an orchard of bone against the cloudy slate-gray sky and amid the autumn chill. It wasn't hard to find one's way to the heart of the Savalirwood from town with a single road leading there and back again, but the road was old and rutted, tired in its seeming retirement. It was just road enough to guide a visitor or three where they needed to go.
It wasn't hard to tell when those several travelers had arrived at their destination, either. The road terminated at the Blooming Grove Funeral Home and Memorial Garden, for one, but it was more than that. The cold and the wet and the gray of the past six miles also came to an end, razor-like purple brambles consuming two concentric circles of failed fencing before bristling up against the last. Five-foot high rusted iron bars marked the final barrier between the forest and the expansive gardens, agape across the road, but you only had to look to see the difference between outside and in. Colorful plant life and many varieties of flying, skittering things rioted joyously between mossy pools on the cultivated acres that seemed somehow warmer than the woods, marked with many dozens of grave markers along either side of the road.
After some minutes of passage, that road finally relaxed into the drive of the ancient stone steeple standing several stories high, its archways and windows overgrown with leafy green vines and blossoming flowers. The wide wooden door directly faced the road, and the woodsmoke wafting from some out of sight chimney suggested more life within.
Right inside the gardens, an oval of pink, shimmering light appeared with a characteristic blink! sound. Nolan stepped through first, dressed in a brown leather jacket and some exceedingly white designer jeans. He winced a little at the sight of the many insects obviously buzzing over a nearby pool of greenish water. "If I'd known, I would've come with a bug spray," he dryly remarked, stepping aside to let Simon and Shinobi through.
Simon followed his gaze as he stepped through and gave the pool of water a sour look. He hugged the crisp tweed pea coat around himself and stepped further into the garden, looking around at the peculiar rows of grave markers nearby. "There's still time." He paused and shook a beetle from his shoulder. "To turn back entirely, if need be."
Shinobi froze as soon as he felt his seventeen-hundred dollar Oxfords ... squish into something. He ruthlessly suppressed a horrified shudder, and needlessly straightened the collar of his ankle-length blue herringbone coat. True, his association with the fairer of the Vessar twins had done wonders for his heretofore non-existent appreciation for nature, but this? This was a bit much. Between the waking nightmare behind them and the almost-excessive vibrancy ahead, he almost wished Clarice's portal remained open behind them. But it had already disappeared, and to show timidity now in the face of a few bugs and a bit of greenery would make him every bit what his father believed him to be.
"A faint heart never changed the world, mon frère," Shinobi said, affecting an enthusiasm he didn't entirely feel and patting Simon reassuringly on the back. "Besides, how could we turn back now, and let it be known that three of the sturdiest pillars of our nascent mutant community were unnerved by a mere garden. Let us press on, to victory!"
Nolan slapped at something that had landed on his neck, wincing a little. "Victory over vermin?" Alliteration aside, it was a poor enough victory. After shooting a thoughtful look at the dead forest beyond the fence, he turned towards the building ahead. A funeral home that looked more like a church, in the middle of an overgrown cemetery, itself in the middle of a dead forest. It was a good thing that he trusted Xavier.
"Let's take the lack of visions of impending doom as a good sign for the near future," he muttered to his friends as he started to make his way across the gardens, as cautiously as one who still had some hope for his jeans to remain white.
Simon took a moment to give Shinobi a skeptical look, but turned to follow Nolan, glancing curiously about the area. "Does anyone else get the distinct impression that this place is older than it looks?"
"Too old," Shinobi agreed, still smiling brightly, but his dark eyes never stopped scanning their overripe garden surroundings. "I suppose all cemeteries possess that sort of atmosphere, to some degree. But I wouldn't be shocked to learn the pioneers traveling the Oregon Trail found themselves in a position similar to ours. Before dying of dysentery, I mean." As he chattered aimlessly, he continued to steadfastly put one expensively-clad foot in front of the other, determinedly ignoring the tiny insects buzzing in front of his face, the damp turf beneath his shoes, the occasional rustle in the foliage which had nothing to do with the still, humid air. The front door to this odd ... church ... shrine ... funeral parlor grew closer with every step, but it grew increasingly difficult not to simply throw himself through it.
"Of course, we're teenagers. Any building that's stood for more than thirty years must seem ancient go us."
"Then again, most don't look like they've sucked the life out of everything around them to fuel their jungle cemetery," Nolan remarked dryly, and was glad to hit the front steps of the building. Once safely on the front porch, he checked the state of his jeans and winced at the green traces and droplets of brown concentrated on the bottom of the legs. He waved a big, buzzing insect away, then glanced at his friends before stepping over to ring the bell.
The resonance of the dolorous bell rang throughout the stone structure. The heavy wooden door that regarded the three as they waited was weathered by the ages and elements, covered in moss and lichen, slightly warped at the top and glistening with moisture. After a few minutes, a heavy mechanism was disengaged from inside, and it swung open wide.
The figure that emerged from within the doorway was uncommonly tall at seven feet in height and had to duck under the doorframe in fact. His gauntness and paleness were just as remarkable, but he still looked younger rather than older, for a human - a bit older than the three of them perhaps. His soft, loose mohawk matched his eyes, which matched the scruff of his short beard, which is to say that all of them were an intensely vivid pink. His earlobes were stretched with ebony spirals, the leather cord draped over his clavicle hung with a large chunk of uncut amethyst and a small scrap of dark wood. He was otherwise dressed in a loose green silk robe decorated in scrollwork over a pair of undyed hemp jeans, both showing a bit of wear, but they were clean. He held a half-full teacup in his free hand.
"...Huh," was all he said for a moment, looking down at them in turn with a kind of open wonder on his face, as if each of them was something pleasantly new and novel. From one, to the next, and then to the next, both looking at them and yet preoccupied with something else at the same time. "I've got just the right number of teacups. That's a good start." He started to turn back into the building.
Simon had stared. It was terrible manners, but he couldn't help it, as his eyes were drawn up and up the figure that greeted them. And then, even as he opened his mouth to say something, the man turned away, leading the way inside. He started to raise a hand to pause the figure, but his back was already turned, so instead Simon turned to glance first at Nolan, then at Shinobi.
"Right," he said slowly. Then he took a deep breath and took a step inside, following the oddly tall (and pink) stranger into the structure.
"A bit oblique, but I think that qualifies as an invitation," Shinobi noted following close behind Simon. He was unsure, in that moment, what to make of this towering, technicolor flower child that had emerged from the ominous chapel--and for one who prided himself on his ability to read people as much as he, that was a difficult admission to make. Still, he very definitely didn't feel threatened; he doubted this individual posed a threat to anything more highly developed than an economy-sized bottle of patchouli oil.
"I didn't realize there'd be refreshment, as well," he went on, grinning somewhat more naturally now. "How delightful."
"Yes, tea, lovely," Nolan agreed dryly, under his breath, as he closed the door behind himself, then followed the other two further into the funeral home. He hoped he was imagining the itch on the side of his neck, and he hadn't actually been stung or bitten by anything.
The old door on its old hinges obligingly shut behind them at the tug. They were then passing through some sort of reception hall with shapes that were likely pews mummified beneath dusty dropcloths. The walls were free of the usual religious iconography that one might expect in such a place, save for a staff and wreath on the wall ahead of the pews. There was no overhead light on in the hall to guide them, but at the other side of the chamber was another open doorway glowing with the warmth of firelight from what would turn out to be a large wood cookstove.
"It's almost the full moon already. Wow. I presume that Professor Xavier sent you," the tall fellow stopped just within the doorway of the kitchens, looking back at them. "I assume that's why you're here? Unless it's about funerary services. But, ahhh... We don't get those visits very often these days," his voice thrummed from deep in his narrow chest. He didn't think that it was, but he should check just in case.
"The Professor did send us," Simon confirmed, glancing curiously up at the staff and wreath in the shadows on the wall. He looked back at the man, then motioned to himself briefly. "My name is Simon Tam, and these are Shinobi Shaw," he motioned to the man beside him, then back to his friend, "and Nolan Ross."
"You may not have heard of us," Shinobi added, probably unhelpfully. "But rest assured, out there," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the nearest wall, encompassing the wider world beyond, "those are names of more than typically-credible weight. Our word is as reliable as a deluxe stainless steel coffin. And perhaps then some."
Ah, well. Perhaps time to get back on track, and away from coffin metaphors, amused though Nolan inwardly was by his friend's prose. "It's very good to meet you, Mr Clay. The Professor sent us," he echoed Simon, "to see if we could put our heads together and figure out how best to bring you into the community that has been forming on his grounds. Simon is part of the medical team there, and Shinobi and I are... Well, we're the money. And the business savvy."
"Caduceus Clay," their host remembered to bother with his own introduction. His manners were terribly out of practice. "Yes, the professor did say that he thought you three would have all of the knowledge and resources that I... Have very little concept of," Mr. Clay gave a slow nod and an easy, non-plussed smile before ducking into the kitchens. "But I think you may have meant a stainless steel casket, which isn't very environmentally friendly, I must say."
Besides the wood stove, there were more modern appliances, an old wooden dining table with accompanying chairs, and a good deal of dated servingware packed neatly onto shelving. The space was also home to a dozen some-odd indoor plants that seemed to be longterm residents in their own right. Something was already simmering on top of the cookstove in a large pot, with what smelled like fresh bread baking in the oven, but Mr. Clay moved for a wall unit full of labeled jars rather than either of those.
Simon smirked quietly over Caduceus' correction of Shinobi's wording. "What sort of knowledge and resources do you seek?"
Sniffing, albeit good-naturedly, at their host's quibbling (and Shinobi did love a good quibble), he muttered, "Well, you wouldn't actually bury anything that expensive." But that was mostly to himself, and he quickly returned to the present thrust of their conversation with the seemingly-imperturbable Mr. Clay.
"Keeping in mind that a setup like this," he waved to indicate both the odd church-slash-funeral parlor and the grounds beyond, "while not beyond the scope of our collective ability, might come across to the other residents of Xavier's as perhaps just a touch macabre."
Perhaps Mr. Shaw didn't realize that the production of those steel caskets alone... But they weren't here today for a consultation. Maybe another time.
Caduceus was mindfully silent for a beat as he selected a tea, resting the jar on one countertop and taking the kettle to fill with water that came from a filtration pitcher in the fridge rather than the tap. "I didn't get the impression that the professor intended to establish end-of-life facilities on school property, no. When I asked if the dining hall had their own garden, being a good gardener and thinking that would be something I could contribute, he seemed interested in that as a possibility. We spoke a bit about how that would work with the school dining hall, and how that was the only prepared meal option unless you went to town nearby... I'm not a bad cook either. Or at least I've never had any complaints that I can recall. He did have a second slice of quiche while he was here, but maybe he was just particularly hungry."
"He mentioned you were interested in perhaps opening a café on the grounds?" Nolan asked, following Caduceus Clay's moves curiously. It was entirely possible that he didn't entirely trust whatever might be in the tea. Or perhaps he was simply curious.
What was certain was that he was blaming the teeming plant life for the way his nose had started itching.
Simon removed his coat, draping it over the back of a chair before taking a seat. "He also mentioned that you're a healer."
Folding his hands behind his back, Shinobi contented himself with observing, now. Nolan and Simon had covered the questions of note, and there were no further witticism or arch observations to be made. Better to hear why they'd be drawn into this peculiar re-imagining of American Gothic.
"Both of those things," Caduceus agreed with them. He put the kettle on to boil, and collected three teacups. He set one before Mr. Tam and the other two at the places adjacent for his other guests. His movements were unhurried, and he appeared to be entirely at ease with their attention on him while he went about his simple work, though there was perhaps a twinkle in his eye. He seldom had people over anymore. "I didn't think he'd come all this way for the quiche."
He brought the jar with the tea leaves back to the table, and a spoon, to put a portion into each of their cups. "Stinging nettle," he said as he spooned the leaves into the cup nearest Mr. Ross, glancing up at the younger man. Mr. Clay's patiently expectant look seemed to suggest that he would understand what was meant by that, or that he would ask if he didn't.
Nolan approached one of the chairs, unzipping his jacket to take a seat more comfortably than he otherwise might have. The look Caduceus Clay leveled on him seemed to clearly be expecting some sort of recognition from him, then, but Nolan resisted the urge to rub his nose and simply shook his head in answer to that unvoiced question, unsure what he was supposed to make of the pronouncement.
"It's a natural antihistamine. I have some that you'd be welcome to try," Caduceus explained, when it seemed an explanation was needed. It was unclear if he was vaguely surprised that herbal remedies weren't common knowledge, or if he was unused to explaining himself, but he'd clearly noticed Nolan's discomfort.
Nolan frowned a little, surprised that anyone, let alone this pink-haired giant, had picked up on his tickly nose. "Thank you," he said, with some hesitation, and looked instinctively to Simon for confirmation of the plant's medicinal properties.
Simon gave a very slight nod to Nolan. "I didn't detect any allergies to such a thing in your system, and your medications shouldn't interact. It's been used to treat a variety of illnesses for thousands of years. The preparation is generally the key."
"What a fascinating diversion this conversation has taken," Shinobi murmured to himself, dark eyes twinkling. "Your lack of a dire premonition could probably be taken for evidence that the nettle-tea is safe for consumption," he added, to Nolan. "Probably."
Their host didn't appear to be phased by the mention of premonitions or detections, because he didn't fully understand was what meant or because it just didn't seem so strange to him. Caduceus put a serving of the purple-red flowers he'd selected into Simon and Shinobi's cups and replaced the lid on the jar that the small handwritten script identified as Costala with some sort of numeral notation. He returned the jar it to its place on the display shelf, then pulled out the drawer of a more humble wooden chest to walk over to Nolan's empty cup. He scooped two tablespoons of the dried leaves into said cup. "We'll start nice and easy, with one cup of tea. How's that sound?"
Nolan's heart had skipped a beat at Shinobi's casual mention of a secret he kept so closely. His time in board rooms and the Hamptons alike was the only thing that prevented him from staring at his friend in shock, and instead he gulped, and looked back at their host, forcing himself to relax his suddenly clenched jaw. "Nice," he echoed, falling back on the soft snark that came so naturally to him to mask the anger that might have otherwise colored his voice. "And easy." But then he added, more genuinely, "Thank you, Mr Clay."
Simon's gaze flicked toward Shinobi in surprise at the slip (or was it?) but he quickly attempted to recover, taking his cup and glancing curiously at the flowers in the water that he didn't quite recognize. Certainly not the stinging nettle that had been promised to Nolan. "Ah... what...?"
"I'll try anything once," Shinobi shrugged, seeming unperturbed by the looks he'd gotten from Simon and Nolan. After giving the concoction a quick sniff to verify that it would not be completely unpalatable, he took an experimental sniff and hummed thoughtfully to himself.
Caduceus smiled amiably at Nolan, first, then swung the expression back around to the others. "That tea only grows here," the words had a quiet reverence to them. It was slightly musty, almost bluntly earthy on the front of the sip, but balanced by delightfully sophisticated floral notes that tantalized the tongue and served to stimulate the palate before it could become claggy. Good for cold days and new endeavors.
He rediscovered his own cup, draining the cool dregs and inspecting the beet-colored traces inside as if they were something profound. Which...yeah. "The Costalas...hmm. They were a textile family for generations. But they, ah... Make very good tea now."
Nolan and his curious palate had been quite saddened that he would not get to taste the unique tea, until that last revelation brought him up short, and he was suddenly very grateful for his allergies. He was still letting the water cool off, but he would happily drink the stinging nettle infusion once it had.
Now, between Shinobi's uncalled for revelation and this talk of tea grown from the dead, Nolan felt that this meeting was getting increasingly out of hand. Time to bring it back under control, and he cleared his throat, ready to ask the question that had been on his mind since they had appeared in that luxuriating churchyard of a garden. "What happened to the woods outside your property, Mr Clay?"
Simon, meanwhile, was trying not to choke on his..."tea." In fact, very discretely coughing into in his teacup while their new, large friend wasn't paying attention. Oh god, he was going to have to brush his teeth for hours....
"Earthy," Shinobi concluded to himself after another thoughtful hum. The Japanese half of his upbringing recoiled at the idea of tea made from dead people, however obliquely. However, that side was quickly subsumed by the impenitent brat that exulted in playing against type--and the more perversely, the better. "You can almost taste the amoral exploitation of the working classes."
"Can you?" Caduceus sniffed his empty cup, tipping his head in some speculation. "I took it as more... Mossy. I don't think I'm honestly qualified to say about the morality or, uh, exploitation. I'm not sure what that even tastes like. But thank you, for sharing your opinion," he directed the last at Shinobi.
He retired his empty cup to the sink and let it abide there a while, giving his attention over to the cooking for now. He stirred the large pot as it simmered away, then reached for a faded pair of oven mitts. "You saw the Savalirwood on your way in. That's troubling, I agree. Highly unusual, a bit dangerous. Most of the family has wandered off to try and sort out how to fix that. Whatever is happening out there has been happening for... Since the time of my grandfather or great-grandfather."
"So it's nothing to do with your - garden?" Nolan asked, very much assuming that it did. That was a much better mystery to focus on than why on earth Shinobi would start bringing up one of Nolan's greatest secrets with strangers. And wouldn't it be wonderful if he could stop thinking about that.
"It is a bit of a stark contrast," Shinobi piped in, after another sip of dead-people tea. "Between the dead forest outside and the cacophonous riot of life inside what is, in theory, a burying ground and funeral service. One can't help but think there might be some connection, on that basis alone."
"Everything is connected, when it comes to life and death," Caduceus proposed without a hint of irony as he opened up the oven door. "Things can become very complicated. Paying too much attention to important things...you're inevitably going to miss out on so much," he added, withdrawing a round loaf of what appeared to be a crusty artisanal bread.
That wasn't even trying to disguise itself as an evasion, and Nolan smiled dryly in appreciation. No matter what his very, very personal feelings about Shinobi might be right then, they worked well together, and he glanced at the other mutant before looking back at Caduceus Clay. "And what would you rather we paid attention to?"
"Would I rather you... That's an interesting way to put it," Caduceus replied entirely mildly, finding a spoon and dipping it into the pot to gather a sip of broth. He savored it in silence, his pink gaze directed at the soup. Then he reached for his seasonings, sprinkling in a bit of this and that, before stirring it up again. "You can ask whatever you like, friends. I might not have the answers that you need, but if you feel compelled to ask - I don't know if I would begrudge you asking," he glanced back at them. "Who's hungry?"
"No thank you," Simon told the man quickly. He would rather not eat vegetables grown from dead people. Granted, he understood, at a basic level, that it was all part of the process, but he just couldn't get over the visual. "I believe what Nolan is attempting to get at is: are we going to have to deal with a wave of death of vegetation around Salem Center should you join us?"
"I could eat," Shinobi piped up, peering over at the soup from his seat with reserved interest. He then held up a warning finger, "If I find anything mummified in it, though, it will negatively impact the tone of my review. Fair warning."
"I have no reason to think that the blight on the Savalirwood would take root elsewhere." They didn't know him yet, but Mr. Clay sounded entirely earnest in what he was saying.
He collected several wooden bowls from a shelf, and spoons from a drawer - not to be pushy, but as a show of hospitality, should Mr. Tam change his mind - and ladled a bowl with a serving of soup that wafted a savory aroma throughout the kitchen. It proved to be rich with wild rice, mushrooms, carrot, celery, onions, kale, well-seasoned with garlic and fresh herbs. It was more rustic than someone of Mr. Shaw's means would be used to, but wholly nourishing in the way of good comfort food. Caduceus found half of a small loaf of bread from the day before, already properly cooled with its flavors allowed to fully develop, from which he gingerly tore a hunk of the fresh bread to go with the soup and set them both before Shinobi. "We don't do mummification here. But also, that's... Very different from growing tea leaves out of enriched soil."
Nolan had finally taken a sip from his infusion, and was hoping that it would act quickly. His nose was not getting any less itchy, the longer he stayed here. In different circumstances, he might have elected to try the soup. To be fair, he might in a minute. But for now - "So you're saying there's no link between the - blight - out there, and the luxuriating life on your grounds? Other than in a holistic, Dirk Gently kind of way?"
Simon side glanced at Nolan, slightly surprised. He wouldn't have taken the young billionaire as a Dirk Gently connoisseur. When he looked back at the bowl placed before him however, the aroma called to him. It looked... amazing. And healthy. And organic. God, Jean-Paul would probably love this guy, despite the growing tea from dead people thing.
As much as Shinobi wanted to muse on the potential of mummihood--being entombed with all his worldly possessions in an ostentatious deathtrap certainly held some appeal, if his mind had to turn to end-of-life matters--he suppressed that particular tangent in favor of Nolan's far more pragmatic question. Taking one for the team, as it were.
"I don't know what that is," Caduceus told them in affable puzzlement. It didn't appear to be too greatly important, so he didn't mind the exclusion, but it seemed fair to let them know. "But the affliction on the land beyond these gates seems to be centered here. It's never followed me when I've gone out to other places, or any of the other Clays. Not that I'm aware of."
Nolan doubted that Charles would have invited Caduceus Clay to join them if there was any indication that the mutant would somehow devastate his grounds, but it didn't hurt to be careful, in his experience. At least, not on average. He would need to do some digging about this once they were back at Xavier's - an entirely more attractive prospect than dealing with the lingering feeling of hurt and betrayal at Shinobi's earlier words.
"Well. Hopefully this will remain localized," he stated, as if it were perfectly normal to leave this sort of thing up to chance. "But to come back to the matter at hand - building you a café on school grounds should be simple enough. If we throw enough money at the contractors, it might even be done by winter break. But there's also the matter of what help you might bring to our medical team..." Nolan trailed off, turning to Simon to let him pick up the topic and run with it. Much as Nolan was very personally interested in knowing what Mr Clay might be able to pull off, Simon really ought to be leading those inquiries.
Simon looked up when he realized that it was his turn, and he gave a slight nod. "I suppose you could be a medical team all on your on, of course, if you're like any other mutant healer I've met."
Caduceus looked much more skeptical at that. "I'm willing to help as I can, yes, but... Morticians are rather the opposite of doctors. By the time I see someone, they usually aren't alive anymore. And they mostly stay that way." He turned to Simon intently. "What I do when I heal someone is more like focusing existing sympathetic energies than clinical treatment, and my abilities are limited in ways that modern medical science isn't."
That caused Simon to frown slightly. "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that. How are your abilities limited?"
"It's... Hmm." The tall fellow's jaw shifted loosely and he lifted a hand to his face, prodding his index finger to the side of his cheek. This was, apparently, a Difficult Question. Or a Difficult Answer. "Manipulating vital lifeforce takes focus, and effort, strength of spirit and body. It can be exhausting, tricky work, and, uh... It depends on the individual and their specific injury." He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, I know that's vague, not very useful for a man of science. But I can't pray away cancer, or repair age-old injuries, or regrow limbs, as practical examples."
"...pray," Simon repeated, slightly dumbfounded.
Caduceus looked almost relieved at the way the word echoed back to him like a loaded question, smiling gently for a moment. He knew something about prayer. "I ask the natural forces within and surrounding us to help a damaged body remember itself," he chose his words slowly, calmly, but they flowed easily enough. They felt right. "That's prayer, to me. Not that I expect anyone else to think of it that way," he added as a reassurance.
"Hallelujah," Shinobi noted unhelpfully around a mouthful of soup.
Simon shot Shinobi a look, but managed not to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he turned back to Mr. Clay. "I suppose everyone has their methods. In any case, our powers will complement one another. I can diagnose through my touch, helping you to know where to focus your...energies."
For his part, Mr. Clay looked unphased by both the quip and the skepticism. "Professor Xavier spoke very highly of the care you've already been providing, and for the value of your scientific research. I don't mean to interrupt any of that. But if there's an emergency or something of that nature... It's nice to be where you can do some good, isn't it?"
He turned back towards the others. "How's the soup, Mr. Shaw? Mr. Ross, you've got a very thoughtful look on your face."
"Oh, simply divine," Shinobi murmured with a small smile. "Best I've had in ages. Heavenly, really."
"And you're giving us a lot of food for thought, too," Nolan added seamlessly.
"Speaking of good," Simon spoke up, "If you'd like me to take a look at that dead vegetation out there and see if I can pick up anything, I'd be happy to. Under normal circumstances, I can only get readings on living organic matter, but if you're unsure what the nature of it is..."
"If you think it's safe?" Caduceus didn't know how Simon's ability worked - or quite how the blight worked either, given its unusual nature. But if he was asking them to trust in his own understanding of his abilities, then it seemed he should return the, ah, trust. "Then by all means. Anything you could tell me would be welcome. Thank you."
"I can't say whether or not it is safe," Simon admitted with a grimace, but he glanced toward the door from which they came. "I admit to being curious, though."
"I can go with you," Caduceus offered. He certainly wasn't going to try and stop Simon from having a look, but the blight did make him uneasy. "We can all go, if there's an interest. After you have a chance to finish your tea, of course."
"Given that we have to approach it to make our rendezvous with Clarice," Shinobi said, "I believe I'll pass, this time. Just observing that horrid nightmare-scape twice in one day will be more than enough to satisfy my taste for the exotic macabre. Besides, I have a bowl of perfectly delicious meat-free soup to finish. This will give me a chance to savor it."
Nolan briefly hesitated. On the one hand, it would be a prime opportunity to... explore the inside of the funeral home. Do some snooping. But on the other hand, what if Simon had some kind of adverse reaction to the wood? Nolan would not want to be alone with a stranger, if it were him. He was not sure he would even want to go into these woods alone with a stranger. He would have to trust Shinobi to handle the snooping on his own, although trusting Shinobi was not high on his list of things to do, right then.
"I could always use a little more Poe in my day," he answered, complimenting the soft snark with a matching little smile.
Simon listened to Nolan's hesitation, and Shaw's refusal, and tapped the teacup thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should wait for another day to tackle that particular issue. I know someone who might like to accompany me." And stand guard should anything happen. "But the offer is open."
"The blight has been in the Savalirwood for generations now. I don't expect it to be in a particular hurry to change now," Mr. Clay considered aloud. "Would you gentlemen rather take a tour of the gardens while you're here?" He hoped his enthusiasm wasn't getting, well, pushy. But it all was rather exciting, wasn't it?
So much for the possibility of snooping. Nolan did his best not to grimace at the offer of a tour of the gardens, and resisted the urge to scratch at the itch on his neck from whatever had stung him. "Perhaps after we put together the beginning of a business plan?"
"That shouldn't take long," Shinobi nodded. "Teenagers are always hungry, and vegan and vegetarian options are certain to have significant market appeal with our enlightened assembly of gifted youngsters. It certainly wouldn't have an option available that wasn't the cafeteria or dining out."
"And your teas might be welcome, both hot and cold, as long as, ah, they aren't grown from dead people," Simon pointed out.
"Isn't everything grown from dead people?" Caduceus had a look on his face that suggested this was wholly reasonable. What did they all think soil was, exactly? Where did they imagine bodies ultimately ended up?
"Usually with a bit more of a remove," Nolan dryly quipped. "We have a corpse-free campus, in any case."
"You say that with such confidence, I could almost believe it," Shinobi chuckled, almost a giggle. "But I doubt a family as old and as wealthy as Xavier's managed to come so far without amassing a few skeletons in the closet. Or underneath the decorative hedges, as the case may be."
Simon just reached up to rub gently at his brow. Who decided bringing Shaw along was a good idea?
Nolan angled a very dry smile at Shinobi. "Well, it's guaranteed free of recent corpses, anyway," he remarked, looking back at Caduceus. Snark as a form of damage control? Was about the only sort of damage control he could do, short of calling Clarice early to blink the Shaw heir away. (Not that he wasn't tempted.) "But, business plan. We have a few items to cover." He pulled out his phone. "Shall we get started?"
Six miles northwest of a town called Shadycreek Run in the state of Oregon, the Blooming Grove waited patiently, as it had done for centuries. A blight had long since settled in upon the woods surrounding the grove, stripping the trees white and making them brittle in death. Only snapped limbs and fractured trunks remained, looking like nothing so much as an orchard of bone against the cloudy slate-gray sky and amid the autumn chill. It wasn't hard to find one's way to the heart of the Savalirwood from town with a single road leading there and back again, but the road was old and rutted, tired in its seeming retirement. It was just road enough to guide a visitor or three where they needed to go.
It wasn't hard to tell when those several travelers had arrived at their destination, either. The road terminated at the Blooming Grove Funeral Home and Memorial Garden, for one, but it was more than that. The cold and the wet and the gray of the past six miles also came to an end, razor-like purple brambles consuming two concentric circles of failed fencing before bristling up against the last. Five-foot high rusted iron bars marked the final barrier between the forest and the expansive gardens, agape across the road, but you only had to look to see the difference between outside and in. Colorful plant life and many varieties of flying, skittering things rioted joyously between mossy pools on the cultivated acres that seemed somehow warmer than the woods, marked with many dozens of grave markers along either side of the road.
After some minutes of passage, that road finally relaxed into the drive of the ancient stone steeple standing several stories high, its archways and windows overgrown with leafy green vines and blossoming flowers. The wide wooden door directly faced the road, and the woodsmoke wafting from some out of sight chimney suggested more life within.
Right inside the gardens, an oval of pink, shimmering light appeared with a characteristic blink! sound. Nolan stepped through first, dressed in a brown leather jacket and some exceedingly white designer jeans. He winced a little at the sight of the many insects obviously buzzing over a nearby pool of greenish water. "If I'd known, I would've come with a bug spray," he dryly remarked, stepping aside to let Simon and Shinobi through.
Simon followed his gaze as he stepped through and gave the pool of water a sour look. He hugged the crisp tweed pea coat around himself and stepped further into the garden, looking around at the peculiar rows of grave markers nearby. "There's still time." He paused and shook a beetle from his shoulder. "To turn back entirely, if need be."
Shinobi froze as soon as he felt his seventeen-hundred dollar Oxfords ... squish into something. He ruthlessly suppressed a horrified shudder, and needlessly straightened the collar of his ankle-length blue herringbone coat. True, his association with the fairer of the Vessar twins had done wonders for his heretofore non-existent appreciation for nature, but this? This was a bit much. Between the waking nightmare behind them and the almost-excessive vibrancy ahead, he almost wished Clarice's portal remained open behind them. But it had already disappeared, and to show timidity now in the face of a few bugs and a bit of greenery would make him every bit what his father believed him to be.
"A faint heart never changed the world, mon frère," Shinobi said, affecting an enthusiasm he didn't entirely feel and patting Simon reassuringly on the back. "Besides, how could we turn back now, and let it be known that three of the sturdiest pillars of our nascent mutant community were unnerved by a mere garden. Let us press on, to victory!"
Nolan slapped at something that had landed on his neck, wincing a little. "Victory over vermin?" Alliteration aside, it was a poor enough victory. After shooting a thoughtful look at the dead forest beyond the fence, he turned towards the building ahead. A funeral home that looked more like a church, in the middle of an overgrown cemetery, itself in the middle of a dead forest. It was a good thing that he trusted Xavier.
"Let's take the lack of visions of impending doom as a good sign for the near future," he muttered to his friends as he started to make his way across the gardens, as cautiously as one who still had some hope for his jeans to remain white.
Simon took a moment to give Shinobi a skeptical look, but turned to follow Nolan, glancing curiously about the area. "Does anyone else get the distinct impression that this place is older than it looks?"
"Too old," Shinobi agreed, still smiling brightly, but his dark eyes never stopped scanning their overripe garden surroundings. "I suppose all cemeteries possess that sort of atmosphere, to some degree. But I wouldn't be shocked to learn the pioneers traveling the Oregon Trail found themselves in a position similar to ours. Before dying of dysentery, I mean." As he chattered aimlessly, he continued to steadfastly put one expensively-clad foot in front of the other, determinedly ignoring the tiny insects buzzing in front of his face, the damp turf beneath his shoes, the occasional rustle in the foliage which had nothing to do with the still, humid air. The front door to this odd ... church ... shrine ... funeral parlor grew closer with every step, but it grew increasingly difficult not to simply throw himself through it.
"Of course, we're teenagers. Any building that's stood for more than thirty years must seem ancient go us."
"Then again, most don't look like they've sucked the life out of everything around them to fuel their jungle cemetery," Nolan remarked dryly, and was glad to hit the front steps of the building. Once safely on the front porch, he checked the state of his jeans and winced at the green traces and droplets of brown concentrated on the bottom of the legs. He waved a big, buzzing insect away, then glanced at his friends before stepping over to ring the bell.
The resonance of the dolorous bell rang throughout the stone structure. The heavy wooden door that regarded the three as they waited was weathered by the ages and elements, covered in moss and lichen, slightly warped at the top and glistening with moisture. After a few minutes, a heavy mechanism was disengaged from inside, and it swung open wide.
The figure that emerged from within the doorway was uncommonly tall at seven feet in height and had to duck under the doorframe in fact. His gauntness and paleness were just as remarkable, but he still looked younger rather than older, for a human - a bit older than the three of them perhaps. His soft, loose mohawk matched his eyes, which matched the scruff of his short beard, which is to say that all of them were an intensely vivid pink. His earlobes were stretched with ebony spirals, the leather cord draped over his clavicle hung with a large chunk of uncut amethyst and a small scrap of dark wood. He was otherwise dressed in a loose green silk robe decorated in scrollwork over a pair of undyed hemp jeans, both showing a bit of wear, but they were clean. He held a half-full teacup in his free hand.
"...Huh," was all he said for a moment, looking down at them in turn with a kind of open wonder on his face, as if each of them was something pleasantly new and novel. From one, to the next, and then to the next, both looking at them and yet preoccupied with something else at the same time. "I've got just the right number of teacups. That's a good start." He started to turn back into the building.
Simon had stared. It was terrible manners, but he couldn't help it, as his eyes were drawn up and up the figure that greeted them. And then, even as he opened his mouth to say something, the man turned away, leading the way inside. He started to raise a hand to pause the figure, but his back was already turned, so instead Simon turned to glance first at Nolan, then at Shinobi.
"Right," he said slowly. Then he took a deep breath and took a step inside, following the oddly tall (and pink) stranger into the structure.
"A bit oblique, but I think that qualifies as an invitation," Shinobi noted following close behind Simon. He was unsure, in that moment, what to make of this towering, technicolor flower child that had emerged from the ominous chapel--and for one who prided himself on his ability to read people as much as he, that was a difficult admission to make. Still, he very definitely didn't feel threatened; he doubted this individual posed a threat to anything more highly developed than an economy-sized bottle of patchouli oil.
"I didn't realize there'd be refreshment, as well," he went on, grinning somewhat more naturally now. "How delightful."
"Yes, tea, lovely," Nolan agreed dryly, under his breath, as he closed the door behind himself, then followed the other two further into the funeral home. He hoped he was imagining the itch on the side of his neck, and he hadn't actually been stung or bitten by anything.
The old door on its old hinges obligingly shut behind them at the tug. They were then passing through some sort of reception hall with shapes that were likely pews mummified beneath dusty dropcloths. The walls were free of the usual religious iconography that one might expect in such a place, save for a staff and wreath on the wall ahead of the pews. There was no overhead light on in the hall to guide them, but at the other side of the chamber was another open doorway glowing with the warmth of firelight from what would turn out to be a large wood cookstove.
"It's almost the full moon already. Wow. I presume that Professor Xavier sent you," the tall fellow stopped just within the doorway of the kitchens, looking back at them. "I assume that's why you're here? Unless it's about funerary services. But, ahhh... We don't get those visits very often these days," his voice thrummed from deep in his narrow chest. He didn't think that it was, but he should check just in case.
"The Professor did send us," Simon confirmed, glancing curiously up at the staff and wreath in the shadows on the wall. He looked back at the man, then motioned to himself briefly. "My name is Simon Tam, and these are Shinobi Shaw," he motioned to the man beside him, then back to his friend, "and Nolan Ross."
"You may not have heard of us," Shinobi added, probably unhelpfully. "But rest assured, out there," he gestured vaguely in the direction of the nearest wall, encompassing the wider world beyond, "those are names of more than typically-credible weight. Our word is as reliable as a deluxe stainless steel coffin. And perhaps then some."
Ah, well. Perhaps time to get back on track, and away from coffin metaphors, amused though Nolan inwardly was by his friend's prose. "It's very good to meet you, Mr Clay. The Professor sent us," he echoed Simon, "to see if we could put our heads together and figure out how best to bring you into the community that has been forming on his grounds. Simon is part of the medical team there, and Shinobi and I are... Well, we're the money. And the business savvy."
"Caduceus Clay," their host remembered to bother with his own introduction. His manners were terribly out of practice. "Yes, the professor did say that he thought you three would have all of the knowledge and resources that I... Have very little concept of," Mr. Clay gave a slow nod and an easy, non-plussed smile before ducking into the kitchens. "But I think you may have meant a stainless steel casket, which isn't very environmentally friendly, I must say."
Besides the wood stove, there were more modern appliances, an old wooden dining table with accompanying chairs, and a good deal of dated servingware packed neatly onto shelving. The space was also home to a dozen some-odd indoor plants that seemed to be longterm residents in their own right. Something was already simmering on top of the cookstove in a large pot, with what smelled like fresh bread baking in the oven, but Mr. Clay moved for a wall unit full of labeled jars rather than either of those.
Simon smirked quietly over Caduceus' correction of Shinobi's wording. "What sort of knowledge and resources do you seek?"
Sniffing, albeit good-naturedly, at their host's quibbling (and Shinobi did love a good quibble), he muttered, "Well, you wouldn't actually bury anything that expensive." But that was mostly to himself, and he quickly returned to the present thrust of their conversation with the seemingly-imperturbable Mr. Clay.
"Keeping in mind that a setup like this," he waved to indicate both the odd church-slash-funeral parlor and the grounds beyond, "while not beyond the scope of our collective ability, might come across to the other residents of Xavier's as perhaps just a touch macabre."
Perhaps Mr. Shaw didn't realize that the production of those steel caskets alone... But they weren't here today for a consultation. Maybe another time.
Caduceus was mindfully silent for a beat as he selected a tea, resting the jar on one countertop and taking the kettle to fill with water that came from a filtration pitcher in the fridge rather than the tap. "I didn't get the impression that the professor intended to establish end-of-life facilities on school property, no. When I asked if the dining hall had their own garden, being a good gardener and thinking that would be something I could contribute, he seemed interested in that as a possibility. We spoke a bit about how that would work with the school dining hall, and how that was the only prepared meal option unless you went to town nearby... I'm not a bad cook either. Or at least I've never had any complaints that I can recall. He did have a second slice of quiche while he was here, but maybe he was just particularly hungry."
"He mentioned you were interested in perhaps opening a café on the grounds?" Nolan asked, following Caduceus Clay's moves curiously. It was entirely possible that he didn't entirely trust whatever might be in the tea. Or perhaps he was simply curious.
What was certain was that he was blaming the teeming plant life for the way his nose had started itching.
Simon removed his coat, draping it over the back of a chair before taking a seat. "He also mentioned that you're a healer."
Folding his hands behind his back, Shinobi contented himself with observing, now. Nolan and Simon had covered the questions of note, and there were no further witticism or arch observations to be made. Better to hear why they'd be drawn into this peculiar re-imagining of American Gothic.
"Both of those things," Caduceus agreed with them. He put the kettle on to boil, and collected three teacups. He set one before Mr. Tam and the other two at the places adjacent for his other guests. His movements were unhurried, and he appeared to be entirely at ease with their attention on him while he went about his simple work, though there was perhaps a twinkle in his eye. He seldom had people over anymore. "I didn't think he'd come all this way for the quiche."
He brought the jar with the tea leaves back to the table, and a spoon, to put a portion into each of their cups. "Stinging nettle," he said as he spooned the leaves into the cup nearest Mr. Ross, glancing up at the younger man. Mr. Clay's patiently expectant look seemed to suggest that he would understand what was meant by that, or that he would ask if he didn't.
Nolan approached one of the chairs, unzipping his jacket to take a seat more comfortably than he otherwise might have. The look Caduceus Clay leveled on him seemed to clearly be expecting some sort of recognition from him, then, but Nolan resisted the urge to rub his nose and simply shook his head in answer to that unvoiced question, unsure what he was supposed to make of the pronouncement.
"It's a natural antihistamine. I have some that you'd be welcome to try," Caduceus explained, when it seemed an explanation was needed. It was unclear if he was vaguely surprised that herbal remedies weren't common knowledge, or if he was unused to explaining himself, but he'd clearly noticed Nolan's discomfort.
Nolan frowned a little, surprised that anyone, let alone this pink-haired giant, had picked up on his tickly nose. "Thank you," he said, with some hesitation, and looked instinctively to Simon for confirmation of the plant's medicinal properties.
Simon gave a very slight nod to Nolan. "I didn't detect any allergies to such a thing in your system, and your medications shouldn't interact. It's been used to treat a variety of illnesses for thousands of years. The preparation is generally the key."
"What a fascinating diversion this conversation has taken," Shinobi murmured to himself, dark eyes twinkling. "Your lack of a dire premonition could probably be taken for evidence that the nettle-tea is safe for consumption," he added, to Nolan. "Probably."
Their host didn't appear to be phased by the mention of premonitions or detections, because he didn't fully understand was what meant or because it just didn't seem so strange to him. Caduceus put a serving of the purple-red flowers he'd selected into Simon and Shinobi's cups and replaced the lid on the jar that the small handwritten script identified as Costala with some sort of numeral notation. He returned the jar it to its place on the display shelf, then pulled out the drawer of a more humble wooden chest to walk over to Nolan's empty cup. He scooped two tablespoons of the dried leaves into said cup. "We'll start nice and easy, with one cup of tea. How's that sound?"
Nolan's heart had skipped a beat at Shinobi's casual mention of a secret he kept so closely. His time in board rooms and the Hamptons alike was the only thing that prevented him from staring at his friend in shock, and instead he gulped, and looked back at their host, forcing himself to relax his suddenly clenched jaw. "Nice," he echoed, falling back on the soft snark that came so naturally to him to mask the anger that might have otherwise colored his voice. "And easy." But then he added, more genuinely, "Thank you, Mr Clay."
Simon's gaze flicked toward Shinobi in surprise at the slip (or was it?) but he quickly attempted to recover, taking his cup and glancing curiously at the flowers in the water that he didn't quite recognize. Certainly not the stinging nettle that had been promised to Nolan. "Ah... what...?"
"I'll try anything once," Shinobi shrugged, seeming unperturbed by the looks he'd gotten from Simon and Nolan. After giving the concoction a quick sniff to verify that it would not be completely unpalatable, he took an experimental sniff and hummed thoughtfully to himself.
Caduceus smiled amiably at Nolan, first, then swung the expression back around to the others. "That tea only grows here," the words had a quiet reverence to them. It was slightly musty, almost bluntly earthy on the front of the sip, but balanced by delightfully sophisticated floral notes that tantalized the tongue and served to stimulate the palate before it could become claggy. Good for cold days and new endeavors.
He rediscovered his own cup, draining the cool dregs and inspecting the beet-colored traces inside as if they were something profound. Which...yeah. "The Costalas...hmm. They were a textile family for generations. But they, ah... Make very good tea now."
Nolan and his curious palate had been quite saddened that he would not get to taste the unique tea, until that last revelation brought him up short, and he was suddenly very grateful for his allergies. He was still letting the water cool off, but he would happily drink the stinging nettle infusion once it had.
Now, between Shinobi's uncalled for revelation and this talk of tea grown from the dead, Nolan felt that this meeting was getting increasingly out of hand. Time to bring it back under control, and he cleared his throat, ready to ask the question that had been on his mind since they had appeared in that luxuriating churchyard of a garden. "What happened to the woods outside your property, Mr Clay?"
Simon, meanwhile, was trying not to choke on his..."tea." In fact, very discretely coughing into in his teacup while their new, large friend wasn't paying attention. Oh god, he was going to have to brush his teeth for hours....
"Earthy," Shinobi concluded to himself after another thoughtful hum. The Japanese half of his upbringing recoiled at the idea of tea made from dead people, however obliquely. However, that side was quickly subsumed by the impenitent brat that exulted in playing against type--and the more perversely, the better. "You can almost taste the amoral exploitation of the working classes."
"Can you?" Caduceus sniffed his empty cup, tipping his head in some speculation. "I took it as more... Mossy. I don't think I'm honestly qualified to say about the morality or, uh, exploitation. I'm not sure what that even tastes like. But thank you, for sharing your opinion," he directed the last at Shinobi.
He retired his empty cup to the sink and let it abide there a while, giving his attention over to the cooking for now. He stirred the large pot as it simmered away, then reached for a faded pair of oven mitts. "You saw the Savalirwood on your way in. That's troubling, I agree. Highly unusual, a bit dangerous. Most of the family has wandered off to try and sort out how to fix that. Whatever is happening out there has been happening for... Since the time of my grandfather or great-grandfather."
"So it's nothing to do with your - garden?" Nolan asked, very much assuming that it did. That was a much better mystery to focus on than why on earth Shinobi would start bringing up one of Nolan's greatest secrets with strangers. And wouldn't it be wonderful if he could stop thinking about that.
"It is a bit of a stark contrast," Shinobi piped in, after another sip of dead-people tea. "Between the dead forest outside and the cacophonous riot of life inside what is, in theory, a burying ground and funeral service. One can't help but think there might be some connection, on that basis alone."
"Everything is connected, when it comes to life and death," Caduceus proposed without a hint of irony as he opened up the oven door. "Things can become very complicated. Paying too much attention to important things...you're inevitably going to miss out on so much," he added, withdrawing a round loaf of what appeared to be a crusty artisanal bread.
That wasn't even trying to disguise itself as an evasion, and Nolan smiled dryly in appreciation. No matter what his very, very personal feelings about Shinobi might be right then, they worked well together, and he glanced at the other mutant before looking back at Caduceus Clay. "And what would you rather we paid attention to?"
"Would I rather you... That's an interesting way to put it," Caduceus replied entirely mildly, finding a spoon and dipping it into the pot to gather a sip of broth. He savored it in silence, his pink gaze directed at the soup. Then he reached for his seasonings, sprinkling in a bit of this and that, before stirring it up again. "You can ask whatever you like, friends. I might not have the answers that you need, but if you feel compelled to ask - I don't know if I would begrudge you asking," he glanced back at them. "Who's hungry?"
"No thank you," Simon told the man quickly. He would rather not eat vegetables grown from dead people. Granted, he understood, at a basic level, that it was all part of the process, but he just couldn't get over the visual. "I believe what Nolan is attempting to get at is: are we going to have to deal with a wave of death of vegetation around Salem Center should you join us?"
"I could eat," Shinobi piped up, peering over at the soup from his seat with reserved interest. He then held up a warning finger, "If I find anything mummified in it, though, it will negatively impact the tone of my review. Fair warning."
"I have no reason to think that the blight on the Savalirwood would take root elsewhere." They didn't know him yet, but Mr. Clay sounded entirely earnest in what he was saying.
He collected several wooden bowls from a shelf, and spoons from a drawer - not to be pushy, but as a show of hospitality, should Mr. Tam change his mind - and ladled a bowl with a serving of soup that wafted a savory aroma throughout the kitchen. It proved to be rich with wild rice, mushrooms, carrot, celery, onions, kale, well-seasoned with garlic and fresh herbs. It was more rustic than someone of Mr. Shaw's means would be used to, but wholly nourishing in the way of good comfort food. Caduceus found half of a small loaf of bread from the day before, already properly cooled with its flavors allowed to fully develop, from which he gingerly tore a hunk of the fresh bread to go with the soup and set them both before Shinobi. "We don't do mummification here. But also, that's... Very different from growing tea leaves out of enriched soil."
Nolan had finally taken a sip from his infusion, and was hoping that it would act quickly. His nose was not getting any less itchy, the longer he stayed here. In different circumstances, he might have elected to try the soup. To be fair, he might in a minute. But for now - "So you're saying there's no link between the - blight - out there, and the luxuriating life on your grounds? Other than in a holistic, Dirk Gently kind of way?"
Simon side glanced at Nolan, slightly surprised. He wouldn't have taken the young billionaire as a Dirk Gently connoisseur. When he looked back at the bowl placed before him however, the aroma called to him. It looked... amazing. And healthy. And organic. God, Jean-Paul would probably love this guy, despite the growing tea from dead people thing.
As much as Shinobi wanted to muse on the potential of mummihood--being entombed with all his worldly possessions in an ostentatious deathtrap certainly held some appeal, if his mind had to turn to end-of-life matters--he suppressed that particular tangent in favor of Nolan's far more pragmatic question. Taking one for the team, as it were.
"I don't know what that is," Caduceus told them in affable puzzlement. It didn't appear to be too greatly important, so he didn't mind the exclusion, but it seemed fair to let them know. "But the affliction on the land beyond these gates seems to be centered here. It's never followed me when I've gone out to other places, or any of the other Clays. Not that I'm aware of."
Nolan doubted that Charles would have invited Caduceus Clay to join them if there was any indication that the mutant would somehow devastate his grounds, but it didn't hurt to be careful, in his experience. At least, not on average. He would need to do some digging about this once they were back at Xavier's - an entirely more attractive prospect than dealing with the lingering feeling of hurt and betrayal at Shinobi's earlier words.
"Well. Hopefully this will remain localized," he stated, as if it were perfectly normal to leave this sort of thing up to chance. "But to come back to the matter at hand - building you a café on school grounds should be simple enough. If we throw enough money at the contractors, it might even be done by winter break. But there's also the matter of what help you might bring to our medical team..." Nolan trailed off, turning to Simon to let him pick up the topic and run with it. Much as Nolan was very personally interested in knowing what Mr Clay might be able to pull off, Simon really ought to be leading those inquiries.
Simon looked up when he realized that it was his turn, and he gave a slight nod. "I suppose you could be a medical team all on your on, of course, if you're like any other mutant healer I've met."
Caduceus looked much more skeptical at that. "I'm willing to help as I can, yes, but... Morticians are rather the opposite of doctors. By the time I see someone, they usually aren't alive anymore. And they mostly stay that way." He turned to Simon intently. "What I do when I heal someone is more like focusing existing sympathetic energies than clinical treatment, and my abilities are limited in ways that modern medical science isn't."
That caused Simon to frown slightly. "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that. How are your abilities limited?"
"It's... Hmm." The tall fellow's jaw shifted loosely and he lifted a hand to his face, prodding his index finger to the side of his cheek. This was, apparently, a Difficult Question. Or a Difficult Answer. "Manipulating vital lifeforce takes focus, and effort, strength of spirit and body. It can be exhausting, tricky work, and, uh... It depends on the individual and their specific injury." He looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, I know that's vague, not very useful for a man of science. But I can't pray away cancer, or repair age-old injuries, or regrow limbs, as practical examples."
"...pray," Simon repeated, slightly dumbfounded.
Caduceus looked almost relieved at the way the word echoed back to him like a loaded question, smiling gently for a moment. He knew something about prayer. "I ask the natural forces within and surrounding us to help a damaged body remember itself," he chose his words slowly, calmly, but they flowed easily enough. They felt right. "That's prayer, to me. Not that I expect anyone else to think of it that way," he added as a reassurance.
"Hallelujah," Shinobi noted unhelpfully around a mouthful of soup.
Simon shot Shinobi a look, but managed not to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he turned back to Mr. Clay. "I suppose everyone has their methods. In any case, our powers will complement one another. I can diagnose through my touch, helping you to know where to focus your...energies."
For his part, Mr. Clay looked unphased by both the quip and the skepticism. "Professor Xavier spoke very highly of the care you've already been providing, and for the value of your scientific research. I don't mean to interrupt any of that. But if there's an emergency or something of that nature... It's nice to be where you can do some good, isn't it?"
He turned back towards the others. "How's the soup, Mr. Shaw? Mr. Ross, you've got a very thoughtful look on your face."
"Oh, simply divine," Shinobi murmured with a small smile. "Best I've had in ages. Heavenly, really."
"And you're giving us a lot of food for thought, too," Nolan added seamlessly.
"Speaking of good," Simon spoke up, "If you'd like me to take a look at that dead vegetation out there and see if I can pick up anything, I'd be happy to. Under normal circumstances, I can only get readings on living organic matter, but if you're unsure what the nature of it is..."
"If you think it's safe?" Caduceus didn't know how Simon's ability worked - or quite how the blight worked either, given its unusual nature. But if he was asking them to trust in his own understanding of his abilities, then it seemed he should return the, ah, trust. "Then by all means. Anything you could tell me would be welcome. Thank you."
"I can't say whether or not it is safe," Simon admitted with a grimace, but he glanced toward the door from which they came. "I admit to being curious, though."
"I can go with you," Caduceus offered. He certainly wasn't going to try and stop Simon from having a look, but the blight did make him uneasy. "We can all go, if there's an interest. After you have a chance to finish your tea, of course."
"Given that we have to approach it to make our rendezvous with Clarice," Shinobi said, "I believe I'll pass, this time. Just observing that horrid nightmare-scape twice in one day will be more than enough to satisfy my taste for the exotic macabre. Besides, I have a bowl of perfectly delicious meat-free soup to finish. This will give me a chance to savor it."
Nolan briefly hesitated. On the one hand, it would be a prime opportunity to... explore the inside of the funeral home. Do some snooping. But on the other hand, what if Simon had some kind of adverse reaction to the wood? Nolan would not want to be alone with a stranger, if it were him. He was not sure he would even want to go into these woods alone with a stranger. He would have to trust Shinobi to handle the snooping on his own, although trusting Shinobi was not high on his list of things to do, right then.
"I could always use a little more Poe in my day," he answered, complimenting the soft snark with a matching little smile.
Simon listened to Nolan's hesitation, and Shaw's refusal, and tapped the teacup thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should wait for another day to tackle that particular issue. I know someone who might like to accompany me." And stand guard should anything happen. "But the offer is open."
"The blight has been in the Savalirwood for generations now. I don't expect it to be in a particular hurry to change now," Mr. Clay considered aloud. "Would you gentlemen rather take a tour of the gardens while you're here?" He hoped his enthusiasm wasn't getting, well, pushy. But it all was rather exciting, wasn't it?
So much for the possibility of snooping. Nolan did his best not to grimace at the offer of a tour of the gardens, and resisted the urge to scratch at the itch on his neck from whatever had stung him. "Perhaps after we put together the beginning of a business plan?"
"That shouldn't take long," Shinobi nodded. "Teenagers are always hungry, and vegan and vegetarian options are certain to have significant market appeal with our enlightened assembly of gifted youngsters. It certainly wouldn't have an option available that wasn't the cafeteria or dining out."
"And your teas might be welcome, both hot and cold, as long as, ah, they aren't grown from dead people," Simon pointed out.
"Isn't everything grown from dead people?" Caduceus had a look on his face that suggested this was wholly reasonable. What did they all think soil was, exactly? Where did they imagine bodies ultimately ended up?
"Usually with a bit more of a remove," Nolan dryly quipped. "We have a corpse-free campus, in any case."
"You say that with such confidence, I could almost believe it," Shinobi chuckled, almost a giggle. "But I doubt a family as old and as wealthy as Xavier's managed to come so far without amassing a few skeletons in the closet. Or underneath the decorative hedges, as the case may be."
Simon just reached up to rub gently at his brow. Who decided bringing Shaw along was a good idea?
Nolan angled a very dry smile at Shinobi. "Well, it's guaranteed free of recent corpses, anyway," he remarked, looking back at Caduceus. Snark as a form of damage control? Was about the only sort of damage control he could do, short of calling Clarice early to blink the Shaw heir away. (Not that he wasn't tempted.) "But, business plan. We have a few items to cover." He pulled out his phone. "Shall we get started?"
