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"No."

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"Okay then. Will you come there with me anyway, since your parents don't seem to be immediately retrievable and I saved you from a gang of mutantphobic goons?"

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"Sure, okay."

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"I assume you can fly with those wings?"

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"'Course."

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"All right then," she says, floating off the ground. The metal bands unloop themselves from around Pen's attackers and slither into her sleeves. She glares fiercely at one who makes to get up.
"We'll be watching you lot," she says. "If there's another incident like this, there'll be consequences."
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None of the men make any move to defy her. Possibly because several of them are concussed.

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Pen could not diagnose a concussion if she cared to. She looks for a place with enough running room and wingspan space to take off, and does.

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The young woman, who has apparently forgotten to introduce herself, takes off in what is presumably the direction of the school. She occasionally glances back to make sure Pen is still behind her.

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Pen is behind her, flapping occasionally.

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Cute kid.
Eventually a large, nigh-palatial building comes into sight. When they near it, Pen's rescuer pauses, her eyes briefly closing as though she were trying to remember something.
After a moment, she opens them and finishes her descent to the roof.
"I let my father know about you. He's the headmaster here--this is a school."
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"Okay." Pen lands on the roof.

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She opens a door in the roof, and they descend into the building proper.

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There are a lot of people here. Some of them want to know where Emily--her name is Emily, apparently--found such a cute kid with such pretty wings.

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Emily will provide a brief summary, but "She's lost her parents and I'm taking her to the Professor, guys, I can talk later."

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Pen waves politely to the curious people.

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Eventually, Emily will usher Pen into an office, where a man in a wheelchair is sitting behind a desk marking papers.

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"Hi," Pen says to this man.

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"Hello," says the man. "My name is Charles Xavier. I'm afraid my daughter didn't mention yours?"

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"Am Pen. Pen-in-nah."

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Charles makes a brief puzzled face. "Do you have a surname?"

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"No, is not angels thing," she shrugs. "Peninnah daughter of the angel Isabella and the mortal man Micaiah sia a Manderra sia a Edori? If wanting longer more name."

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"I see. Where are you from?"

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"Samaria. The Eyrie."

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He put his papers down. "And where are those?"

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