(I don't like plugging up marvel_mansion with bendy-time threads, so this is the first in a series of events that took place after Sal woke up, went to Sophie's funeral, and saw Magneto's broadcast. When these events have been covered, I will link this thread and others like it to a post in the community proper.)

The first thing Sal did after the broadcast was to hurriedly turn off her satellite reciever and then spend what little alone time she had thinking.

Sophie had had a point. All that had happened was her fault; she had taken on more responsibility than she'd really been prepared for -- as a consequence, people were dead or dying. Her method of dealing with all of this was to spend hours (sometimes days) hanging out with Eddie on what she'd begun to call 'Green Island'. It was a tiny island that was just big enough to not be called a sand-bar and to have some foliage upon it, and it was the tiny island where she'd smoked enough BC-grade weed to fry out the brains of lesser people several times over.

But the message on the T.V. was enough to shake her out of her THC-laden stupor and get her thinking about the changes that needed to be made.

And Xavier's School didn't seem to fit within this to-do list of changes anymore. But she owed it to several people to be honest about where she was going and what she was going to try to do.

It had taken way too long for this arrangement to pan out. Lisa, being the best girlfriend ever for agreeing to do it, had had to get to the island, rent a car, and then drive down to the Xavier Institute to actually deliver the one thing that Sal had wanted to bring with her into the States.

Othello was coming - and for that, Sal couldn't be happier. One could only go so long without their hobbies, and as recreational drinking had sort of been nixed, all she was left with was her music. It was just in time, really: her roommate was driving her bananas, her birthday was in a few days and she seemed to be having difficulties connecting with people her own age (was it the accent?), and, above all else, she was homesick.

But a certain bright blue guitar was going to change all of that.

And this was why Sal was craned on tiptoes in front of one of the large front windows of the mansion, straining to see through the gate. Lisa wasn't going to stay very long - this was a drop-it-off-and-leave sort of visit - but that didn't matter.

As soon as Othello was here she was going to tune her up and hold a kitchen party.

Now if only the damn thing would get here...

Will be updated as things occur to me/become relevant.

( Everything You Wanted To Know About a Pyrokinetic Newfie but Were Afraid To Ask )

"You're leavin'." 

The words stung.  Sal wasn't certain why everyone was treating this as a betrayal.

"Yes, b'y.  I figure it's time to go 'fore I burns down the entire goddamn town, don't ye think?"  Sal crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Laine - her best friend for life - who looked as though she was going to break down crying.  They were standing at the public docks of Port Aux Basques.  The Lukey was loaded, fueled and ready to go, with its GPS pointed toward New York City.

The words stung, but Sal wasn't changing her mind.

"Yeah, but the USA?"  Laine looked alarmed, the gelled spikes of her short blonde hair quivering as she shook from head to toe.  "They're gonna get out their guns and shoot ye 'til there's nothin' left.  'Specially with that shit goin' down there about... people like you."

This notion - about the guns, not about the witch-hunt - actually made Sal laugh, and she held her oil-skin overalls up as she bent double.  "You're some funny," she breathed.  "C'mon, what's the worst that could happen?  I mean, if I keeps myself level-headed, then --"

"I'm serious, Sal!  They could kill ye!  And then what would we do?"

Sal pondered this for a moment.  Her friends would miss her if something went wrong.  But if she didn't go, she ran the risk of letting her little human matchbook abilities burn down Port Aux Basques all the way from the Mary Brown's to the Shoppers Drug Mart, possibly taking out the ferry depot in the process.

It was an image she hoped would stay firmly in her imagination and wouldn't be grounded in reality.  Ever.

And if keeping that image from becoming real meant getting in the boat and sailing down the Eastern Seaboard, she'd do it.

Sal fished in her pocket and pulled out a single Marlboro Light.  She stuck it in her mouth, then snapped her fingers right in front of the end of it.  It lit, and she grinned, taking a long drag and blowing it out slowly.

"Ah, Laine," she said, "don't ye worry 'bout me.  I figures I'll get on all right."

"I hope so."