/Is anything with telepaths ever really "normal"? That's a rhetorical question. But no, most telepaths I know don't have a lot of precog. Kinda seems like it fucks you up, to be honest.
/Soooo you're having nightmares. About a deep-seated anxiety. Tell me why you think that's some kind of prophetic shit and not just normal-ass fucked up dream shit./
/Look. Do I think it's just a stupid bad dream? Yeah. The world-breaking Omega level psychic version of that nightmare where you go to work without your pants. If you haven't had any precog abilities before, and you're not seeing any of us in your visions, they're probably not anything to get your panties in a twist about.
Nate thinks he can just show up, sprinkle a little trauma around, then clam up the second Quentin starts trying to talk about it? To help? And not just clam up, but slam a psychic block in his face?? Nope. No way. Think again, bub.
Quentin cracks his psychic knuckles and pushes against that wall. Not a true attempt at breaking it, but certainly enough that Nate'll feel it. Which is, of course, what Quentin wants. He's not trying to invade Nate's boundaries, not really. He's making a point. And that point is "hey, asshole, you're not getting rid of me that easily."]
( Oh he feels it alright. So much that Quentin might feel a flicker of annoyance through the connection they share. He doesn't unlock the door — doesn't even open it up a crack. Instead, he speaks from behind it. )
Go away. Or do you want to laugh some more at my stupid dream?
[Oh, a flicker of annoyance? Nah, we can do better than that. If Quentin Quire wants a reaction, he's getting a reaction. It's his specialty. Nate's out here trying to act like he's being oh-so-open-and-honest while blocking him out and has the audacity to accuse Quentin of mocking him? Nope. That's like fifteen different layers of inauthentic bullshit. Quentin may not be the same stupid kid who stole Slick's disguise and forced all those asshole world leaders to confess their secrets, but his tolerance for evasive garbage like Nate's pulling? It's low.
Quentin stubbornly refuses to reply in words, instead responding with a hard, pointed shove against the psychic block. Sorry, Nate, he's not having any damn conversations with anyone through locked fucking doors.]
( Wow. Does this guy not know how to take a hint or something?
He feels the shove that comes after his words — knows that it's harder than the last one was and his left eye glows bright and gold for a moment. He's upset, that much is clear. Thought that Quentin might have some insight in to precognition and if it was something omegas like them are capable of instead of it all just being in his head... in not the usual way it is for a telepath... and the guy had just figured it was a stupid dream when he's here trying not to count down the days he has until he just doesn't exist anymore because thanks Sinister.
He knows that Quentin is his friend and has been someone, more or less, that's been there for him when he's needed him but he just... felt as if his concerns were simply being brushed aside — not taken seriously. Quentin's told him he's come back to life how many times? But that doesn't mean he will whenever that happens. Quentin doesn't have a code written in his DNA to make sure he doesn't live past a certain age. So maybe he's a little more touchy about it than he should be.
So it's why when he flings open the telepathic door there, it's all dramatics as it should be for a Grey-Summers kid and he's eyeing him with that left eye still glowing gold. )
[Quentin can take a hint. He just chooses not to when it suits him. Like now, for example. And look, you can't say he doesn't get results. Nate's dramatics notwithstanding, the fact that he opened the door at all means Quentin won, so ha.]
Or what, Nate? You'll try to kick my ass? I'm quaking.
[He scoffs and plops into an armchair. Yes, there's an armchair here now. Because he's an Omega level psychic, and it's the astral plane, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants. And what he wants is to sit himself right here and decidedly not go away. And if Nate has a problem with that then that's on him.]
Now are we going to talk like grown-ups, or are you gonna start a fight you won't win?
( Does Nate have the upper hand in terms of power? Yes. But does he have the upper hand when it comes to skill and experience? No. That’s where his overconfidence in himself has led to him learning the hard way that raw power doesn’t always mean an instant win, but. Whatever.
He folds his arms in front of his chest and stands there, looking away from Quentin. Quiet for a moment, his jaw tightens before he finally looks back over his shoulder to the other telepath. )
It sucks that you’ve died before. I’m glad you came back from it. But I haven’t. ( Died before, he means. ) And I’m going to someday in the next few years because of some asshole from my world. So maybe it’s no big deal to you that I have these nightmares, but they scare me because it’s not fair.
[It's a step in the right direction, at least. E for effort. However, unfortunately, Nate said that thing about "we both know I could beat you," which admittedly kinda undercuts Quentin's desire to be empathetic. He wrinkles his nose snidely.]
Okay, first of all, we don't know shit.
[He rolls his eyes, clearly offended by Nate's assertion, but he'll get back to that in a bit.]
Second, you're not having dreams about dying. You're having dreams about obliterating the rest of us with your big scary brain muscles you can't control worth a damn. Because no matter how many fucking times we all tell you that wouldn't happen, it doesn't seem to sink in. So.
[Quentin crosses his legs, spreading his arms invitingly.]
( He says that in a way that has him frustrated, as if Quentin should get it but he doesn’t. )
I explode because my powers are too much. What do you think happens when someone literally combusts? I just take half the planet with me when I do.
( Eye glowing that bright warm gold, he reels it in and shakes his head as he forces his fingers through his hair, turning away, eyes closing and the gold slowly fading behind them. )
It doesn’t matter if it’s here or not. I have an expiry date written in me. So it’s going to happen.
What do you want me to say, Nate? "Wow, sounds like all your godawful nightmares are totally precognition, and you're gonna blow any second. Sucks for you?"
[It is taking every bit of self-control in Quentin's body to not tell Nate to get in line, everybody takes a dirt nap eventually, quit whining about it. He's already annoyed about this whole thing, and his "burn it all down" urges are bubbling up to the surface. But he holds back his most biting comments and forces himself to be... moderately productive. Fine. If Nate's going to insist on talking about dying, they can talk about dying.]
I've died more times than all the other mutants here combined, and not a single one of those times was fair. I've gone to the future and saw myself die, and that wasn't fair.
[Quentin shrugs dramatically, his lip curled bitterly.]
All I got for you is the future's not set in stone, and guys like us don't stay dead. If you don't wanna listen to me, that's on you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Sorry, Nate, you have to live with that shame forever.]
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Wait. You really can’t?
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Is it not normally for telepaths?
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/Is anything with telepaths ever really "normal"? That's a rhetorical question. But no, most telepaths I know don't have a lot of precog. Kinda seems like it fucks you up, to be honest.
Why the sudden interest?/
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/Yeah? You gonna share with the class or...?/
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My powers became too much and I went nuclear and took half the planet with me. Sometimes it’s like I’m watching it. Other times, I’m living it.
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( he sighs. )
Never mind. Forget it. I was just asking.
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I thought "don't lie to telepaths" was like, your one rule. What happened to that?/
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But you clearly don't think that, so. Spill./
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( and this is where he does the telepathic version of slamming and locking a door. good talk but he's done now. )
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Nate thinks he can just show up, sprinkle a little trauma around, then clam up the second Quentin starts trying to talk about it? To help? And not just clam up, but slam a psychic block in his face?? Nope. No way. Think again, bub.
Quentin cracks his psychic knuckles and pushes against that wall. Not a true attempt at breaking it, but certainly enough that Nate'll feel it. Which is, of course, what Quentin wants. He's not trying to invade Nate's boundaries, not really. He's making a point. And that point is "hey, asshole, you're not getting rid of me that easily."]
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Go away. Or do you want to laugh some more at my stupid dream?
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Quentin stubbornly refuses to reply in words, instead responding with a hard, pointed shove against the psychic block. Sorry, Nate, he's not having any damn conversations with anyone through locked fucking doors.]
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He feels the shove that comes after his words — knows that it's harder than the last one was and his left eye glows bright and gold for a moment. He's upset, that much is clear. Thought that Quentin might have some insight in to precognition and if it was something omegas like them are capable of instead of it all just being in his head... in not the usual way it is for a telepath... and the guy had just figured it was a stupid dream when he's here trying not to count down the days he has until he just doesn't exist anymore because thanks Sinister.
He knows that Quentin is his friend and has been someone, more or less, that's been there for him when he's needed him but he just... felt as if his concerns were simply being brushed aside — not taken seriously. Quentin's told him he's come back to life how many times? But that doesn't mean he will whenever that happens. Quentin doesn't have a code written in his DNA to make sure he doesn't live past a certain age. So maybe he's a little more touchy about it than he should be.
So it's why when he flings open the telepathic door there, it's all dramatics as it should be for a Grey-Summers kid and he's eyeing him with that left eye still glowing gold. )
I said go away.
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Or what, Nate? You'll try to kick my ass? I'm quaking.
[He scoffs and plops into an armchair. Yes, there's an armchair here now. Because he's an Omega level psychic, and it's the astral plane, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants. And what he wants is to sit himself right here and decidedly not go away. And if Nate has a problem with that then that's on him.]
Now are we going to talk like grown-ups, or are you gonna start a fight you won't win?
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( Does Nate have the upper hand in terms of power? Yes. But does he have the upper hand when it comes to skill and experience? No. That’s where his overconfidence in himself has led to him learning the hard way that raw power doesn’t always mean an instant win, but. Whatever.
He folds his arms in front of his chest and stands there, looking away from Quentin. Quiet for a moment, his jaw tightens before he finally looks back over his shoulder to the other telepath. )
It sucks that you’ve died before. I’m glad you came back from it. But I haven’t. ( Died before, he means. ) And I’m going to someday in the next few years because of some asshole from my world. So maybe it’s no big deal to you that I have these nightmares, but they scare me because it’s not fair.
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Okay, first of all, we don't know shit.
[He rolls his eyes, clearly offended by Nate's assertion, but he'll get back to that in a bit.]
Second, you're not having dreams about dying. You're having dreams about obliterating the rest of us with your big scary brain muscles you can't control worth a damn. Because no matter how many fucking times we all tell you that wouldn't happen, it doesn't seem to sink in. So.
[Quentin crosses his legs, spreading his arms invitingly.]
Take your best shot.
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( He says that in a way that has him frustrated, as if Quentin should get it but he doesn’t. )
I explode because my powers are too much. What do you think happens when someone literally combusts? I just take half the planet with me when I do.
( Eye glowing that bright warm gold, he reels it in and shakes his head as he forces his fingers through his hair, turning away, eyes closing and the gold slowly fading behind them. )
It doesn’t matter if it’s here or not. I have an expiry date written in me. So it’s going to happen.
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[It is taking every bit of self-control in Quentin's body to not tell Nate to get in line, everybody takes a dirt nap eventually, quit whining about it. He's already annoyed about this whole thing, and his "burn it all down" urges are bubbling up to the surface. But he holds back his most biting comments and forces himself to be... moderately productive. Fine. If Nate's going to insist on talking about dying, they can talk about dying.]
I've died more times than all the other mutants here combined, and not a single one of those times was fair. I've gone to the future and saw myself die, and that wasn't fair.
[Quentin shrugs dramatically, his lip curled bitterly.]
All I got for you is the future's not set in stone, and guys like us don't stay dead. If you don't wanna listen to me, that's on you.
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