Esplosions

Julie : Dinner Date

Fri, 06 Nov 2009 05:45:21 GMT

Julie : I'm not entirely sure if I am more nervous about this than I am about our first public outing of sorts or not. I suppose it would have to be more though, I wasn't in honestly that nervous at all about our zombie slaying trips. That was something I knew, fighting for a purpose and for the good of others at large. This? This I don't know. And I'm a little disturbed by the fact that I have suddenly gained more fame from simply that, and who I had been in proximity to in such a...well. Spectacularly flashy manner. I don't often read the tabloids myself, and so it had taken a bit of confusion before I'd realized what had happened. We had, in fact, caught attention. A lot of it. Apparently enough so to land us in all our rainbowdecked, blonde glory on the front pages of more things than I actually liked. When i'd left my apartment this morning, I'd noticed a couple photographers. It had taken me until after my morning espresso to notice they were actually following me. Why...?

It was then that I'd spotted the glossy photo, and about spit what was left of my carmely beverage onto the front of my shirt. This was going to make my day interesting. I could tell. Fortunately hiding in the back of my classrooms at school had allowed me to pretend like I was escaping some of the notice. Perhaps it wouldn't have bothered me so much, not to say I'm that bothered just off guard, were I not used to almost annonymmity once again. I wasn't Power Pack anymore. I wasn't the cheerleader anymore. I was Julie Power! Theater major, with a ...job at SHIELD HQ on the side (not that I let many know about that one). Only now, well. Now I had been out and about with a famous pop star.

... how must this be for her every day? I'm sure poor Dazzler's mobbed on a daily, continuous basis.

My day was at least mostly uneventful beyond that. After my classes, it'd been work, after work it was home. To deal with my sister badgering me over heroing, over my disappearing so much lately. It wasn't something I exactly wanted to explain to her, though I knew in some details I might have to eventually. She had especially begun to wonder, and argue, when I informed her that Alex would be coming over to babysit her for the evening, since I wasn't going to be home until tomorrow. I'd had to badger my brother a great deal. Technically Katie was old enough to be home alone just fine. But with the addition of Dazzler's ward, I didn't want to leave anything to chance so much. He could always just peek in every once in a while, and hopefully the girls would entertain themselves. Alex's presence was more to make sure they didn't go crime fighting on their own.

I'd spent far longer than I normally would have, on most of the dates I'd ever been on, getting ready tonight. On picking out the sunny little yellow dress, doing my hair and makeup. Finding a matching bag out of my overflowing closet, and shoes. I'd eyed the clock nervously as I waited for it to be time. Now there was only to wait until Daz showed up to drop off Molly.

Nico : Witness Protection!

Mon, 09 Mar 2009 08:24:05 GMT

Bobbi : She'd stopped just short of a "come with me if you want to live" line. Mostly because her doing the accent sounded ridiculous. And wrong. But most ridiculous. The sentiment was there, though, but being Mockingbird she tried to lighten it somewhat.

As much as you could lighten that.

She wasn't giving out information, though, until they got where they were going. The tires of the beaten up sedan crunch the gravel driveway up to the garage of a generic little two story house, about an thirty minutes after they switched cars, and about an hour after they drove with the rest of the outbound traffic beneath the shadows of the Sentinels at the borders of New York City. As the automatic door rattles closed behind them, Mock slides out of the car and over to Nico's side, opening the door for her cordially.

"Welcome to Casa de Mystic. You want me to haul your stuff in now, or do you want the grand tour, explanation, and dinner first?"

Nico : "So. Remind me again why it was utterly imperative that I come to this.. Bobbi edition of sleep away camp?"

There's an attempt to wrap my arms around, and pickup, the bundle of black fur that had been riding shotgun in my lap for the car trip, as if I were simply the cushion for his rump, but he simply jumps out ahead of me, tail high like a flag. There's really not any concern about him running off though. Where would he go to anyway? That and I remain thuroughly convinced he can take better care of himself than I can.

"Erm. I'm guessing I won't need to change or brush my teeth or do anything gravity defying with my hair in the next couple hours so. Leave it and.. tour I guess? What's going on, Bobbi?"

I don't think she would have showed up and hustled me off to.. wherever here is without a reason. I mean. I've been left pretty well on my own for the last few months and nothing has popped out of the ether to swallow me whole.

Bobbi : "Casa de Mystic. If you don't use it, too, it'll never catch on."

Bumping the car door closed behing Nico, Bobbi opens the door into the rest of the house with a bow and flourish... for Rasthmus. She knew where the real power lay in the cat/owner relationship. "There's a litter box in the mud room, your magesty."

She was delaying. And obviously so. Leading on through the kitchen, she spins the dial on the oven to start it warming as she passes, and gestures for Nico's sake. "Four bedrooms, though the ad would have you believe it sleeps twenty four people overall. Everything you sit on counts as a bed in a timeshare home. I pity the poor schmuck that gets stuck sleeping on the dining room chairs. But it's furnished, it's clean, it's secluded considering it's the off season. . . and you have a lovely view of the beach from the back windows."

"If it weren't the middle of winter, you could pretend you were vacationing here. As it is, means there aren't any neighbors. You've got your pick of two of the rooms. One's Maggie's, and one's for Miles."

"I got these nifty bread bowls loaded with stew. You game for an experiment in heat-and-serve cuisine?"

Nico : "I eat at greasy diners every meal. I'm not about to start being picky about my meals now. Experiment away."

Rasthmus is also fully aware of who wears the proverbial pants in our relationship, and I'm not about to fight him for them. I'm happy enough for his company most of the time to just let him be. As soon as we're inside, he darts off to begin exploring his new domain with a 'prrrowl' that might have been 'you're dismissed' in cat-ese. Who knows. I don't speak it yet, I just creatively interpret.

"Casa de Mystic. That makes it sound like there's other mystics. Ah."

Folding my arms across my chest, tucking my hands under. It's not so much an irritated gesture, as it might seem, I just didn't know where else to stick them for the time being.

"So. Are you going to tell me why they're here also? Or do I need a teeth prying spell."

I'm not quite so willing to just go along without question on things as I used to be. I at least like to know a little bit about what exactly it is I'm going along with, now.

"I'll sleep wherever, it doesn't so much matter to me. I sleep on the couch half the time at home."

Bobbi : "There's absolutely nothing wrong with greasy diners. I miss them dearly. I've been living off heat-and-serve more often than not, and I miss my healthy dose of saturated fat." Unwrapping the two bread bowls, she slides them into the oven, and takes a seat at the dining room table, pushing a chair out for Nico with her foot.

"For now it's just you three. Miles because he's my partner. Maggie because she's pretty clearly sided with me. And you because they know I'd do something stupid if they went after you." It was a track record, now. Her little jaunt to Roanoke with Nico might have been off the books, but it had gone partially on record, or a SWORD agent would never have know to tag along. It, along with the other incidents, like the mobsters, or their time at the dojo with Amiko, would paint a picture that might send them right after her.

"I found Miles first. They'd already come after him. He'd been shot. Just grazed, but that's mostly because. . . I don't think they really knew what they were going up against and they weren't ready for him. He's not. . . really himself these days. Suffice to say after the most uncomfortable conversation in history, he teleported out of here to get away from. . . well. Me, really."

"But that's not really related."

"I pretty much came and abducted you because I had word that they were penning shoot-on-sight orders for my people. And I don't know how far out they're extending that term."

Nico : "They?"

Already I don't like the sound of this, and she's just getting started. But it seems like anything we've been involved in together has escalated rapidly into 'oh no' status. Well. That's not entirely true. Just enough things that it's a little cause for concern when she's referring to a 'they.' I drop down into the proffered chair anyway, drawing my legs up under me.

"Wait. So Miles isn't here? Or.. he was and now has.. run off?"

That doesn't sound terribly like him. Her last announcement, however, makes me stare more than the rest of it has.

"Just. Because? Or do they think I'm going to go all Blair Witch?"

Do they even know...whoever they is.

"I. Appreciate you looking out for me Bobbi. But I think you get stuck doing that way too much. If you'd just... said. I have a place I can hide."

The Hostel. At this point, it's looking pretty snazzy inside. I even started a little food storage down there. For no other reason than I didn't really have anything else to be doing with myself in my spare time the last few months. I'm sure I could have found much more productive and educational things to do but. It worked for the time being.

Bobbi : "They. Capital 'T' They. They being a bunch of people trained the way I was, but better equipped and still legit, backed by papers that look completely official because they are official. I'm better at this all than they are, but you pile enough numbers on and that stops mattering."

"'They' shot one of their own. Miles has the badge and everything, too. They're probably taking cocky bets in the locker room on who's going to put a bullet into my head. You point out the Nazi-Elephant in the corner of the room and they really flip, what can I say. But if you go laying the mojo-smackdown on them, they're completely justified in any response they go with."

"Miles was here. I've asked Maggie to look into getting him back here, because it's not safe for him right now otherwise. And he's. . . really not himself. I don't want her to get him back here, and you to be surprised. Miles is in a bad place right now, mentally. He got lucid again right about the time the conversation went back to the awkward place, then he ported out. I don't know. Maybe if I'm not here, he'll stay."

"And I won't be, for the most part. Me coming back here all the time just draws a big neon target on you guys. It won't be long, though. I'm moving this towards closure."

"But I don't want you guys alone, either. Numbers are helpful, and so is distance. If they found you in your hidey hole, it wouldn't go well. You need anyone else here, you let me know. I'm paying for the whole house, so we might as well use it. But it's safer, not just for us, but for anyone else that could get stuck in the crossfire."

"Bad enough they set their sites on my friends, I don't want them shooting up random civilians too while they're at it. I don't want anyone else in danger because of this fight."

Nico : "Oh, that They."

Sighing a little, I prop my elbows up on my knees, dropping my chin into the palms of my hands while I wrinkle up my nose at Bobbi.

"It really was fate we bump into each other that one day. Neither one of us can stay out of trouble, and maybe trouble's like misery. Loves company. Maybe that's why I've had such a quiet last few months. You were getting into all the trouble for me."

And from what I'd seen on the news, well. She'd been in plenty. Part of why I hadn't gone looking, other than the occasional peeking to make sure everyone was alive and in some state of well. And sending her the Christmas present, but I hadn't dropped a Nicoherself care package in on Bobbi. It's always a measure of whether or not I'll need a spell at a more important time later or not.

"Do. You want me to go try to help find him? Or talk to him at least..."

Miles and I always got along well I think. And he was always there when I needed help, only fair for it to go the other way around.

"Well. If they did then it'd only be me in trouble, and not the other two. I really doubt they would have found it though. I guess I"ll save it for the next rainy day."

Bobbi : "Yeah. That they."

Sliding out of her chair, she pulls the food out of the oven before it can hit the last seconds and beep, and slides Nico's meal onto a plate. "I think I've taken on enough trouble for a whole bunch of people. You can all live vicariously through me for a while. And to be fair, our last big throwdown was as much my thing as it was yours, in the end. Slade tapped me before he ever started harassing you, or the mystical roofie would still work on me."

The time they'd known each other had been an eventful few years, even by her standards.

"Talk with Maggie about it, work out who does what. Because yeah, I'd like to know he's somewhere safe. I want you to bear in mind how much he isn't himself, though. He attacked me, when I came after him." It was an oversimplification of matters, but. . . well, Miles' demons were his demons. Or demon. Singular and literal. It was a secret he closely guarded, and not hers to tell Nico.

Nico : "I'm guessing you're wanting me here for a few days at least, judging by the bringing clothes, and packing along Rast. Who admittedly probably would have been fine even longer than the few days that might be 'acceptable' to leave a cat alone in an apartment but... anyway."

Rolling my shoulder absently, as I cut off further rambling that might have come out of me.

"Still. I'm going to feel responsible for that no matter. If only I could go back in time and make my parents not so... evil."

Hm. Would that even work? No. Better to not even think about it, because I'm sure not only would it backfire even more horribly than the time I spent as a boy that apparently found Bobbi overly attractive (which I'm not sure I've entirely recovered from), I would probably end up making myself not exist.

I've seen Meet the Robinsons.

"Okay. I'll see what she thinks. So. House arrest minus the stylish ankle cuff? Are. You going to be okay?"

Chewing the corner of my lip, I look up more fully from my knees at her.

Bobbi : "A little while, yeah. You're not really under house arrest. I just wouldn't go out of this neighborhood, or the beach, really. Heading back to NYC would be a bad idea, that's where they're going to be hitting at me hardest. But there's cable, and I dropped of DVDs, and you can order as much Pay-per-View as you want and charge it to me, it's cool."

"Kiddo, you are not what made me appealing enough to the hoards of hell that I seemed like a good demon bride for the devil's bouncing baby boy. I did that all by my lonesom, and if you start taking on responsibility for the bad things I've done, too, I'm going to look into getting you councilling."

"Am I going to be okay?" Mock considers the question for a moment, before returning Nico's gaze evenly. "I don't want to BS you. Truth is, I don't know. I have a plan, and if it works, we'll all be better off for it. Me getting killed isn't part of the plan, but things aren't going to really go back to normal, at least not for me, even if everything goes perfectly according to plan."

"You guys being safe is the fist priority for me."

Nico : "I'd complain at the whole not summer for the beach part but. Well. Anyone whose looked at me twice can probably tell I'm not a big sunbather type, really. Doesn't work with the whole color scheme."

Goth I just don't see looking good with glowing tanned skin, but maybe that's just me and my complete inability to do anything other than burn under the sun, if I spend any amount of time there.

"Pay-per-view? Who do you think I am... Chase? I suppose there's things other than porn on there though. Movies. Hrm. Okay. I guess I can manage the whole... sit tight thing."

Chase is gone, so's Victor. There's not really that many friends I have that apparently aren't either here, or already moved on. Just the guy from the diner. And he can watch out for himself just like any of the others I might be worried about. I think Bobbi's concern for them coming after me might be a little... unneeded but it's still. Nice. That someone's worried about me anyway.

"Oh Bobbi. I'm so good at it though. I've got my parents, and I don't think yours are really much of anything after what they did. But maybe that's cause I'm prejudiced towards thinking good things about you. I'd. Er. Well. I'm sure I don't need to say I'd prefer the whole you not dying thing. I'll twist up my fingers, and bob my head and try to be all I Dream of Jeanie to make things work in your favor. Or. At least as much as I can without getting in trouble. Power of positive thinking."

But. I really am worried about her. I don't so much think of her as a parent, because that would be looping her in with the horror that my parents had turned out to be. But she's still something infinitely important to me.

Bobbi : "Eh. I'll pull through. Always do. I'm more worried about Miles. He's pretty. . . broken. . . right now. And I got him into this mess by pulling him in as my partner. If you and Maggie can get him and keep him safe, I'll feel a lot better."

"Just. . . do me a favor. If you go the matchmaking route with us, things will get pretty sour. It was a very awkward conversation. And it ended badly. I just don't want him getting himself killed because he bolted afterwards, and I don't want to risk him hightailing it again."

"It'll be a relief once you're all safe and out of the line of fire." Pushing herself out of her chair, Bobbi leaves her food untouched, and offers Nico a lopsided, cocksure grin. "I'll pull through. And one way or the other, I'll work something out for you guys too."

"I'm sorry for the mess, kiddo. I should get back to work, meanwhile. Got people to harass and schemes to hatch."

Nico : "Well. I'll do what I can to help him, I mean. He's done a lot for me and he didn't have any reason to feel obligated to. I mean. None of you did really."

Who knows if I even can do anything, but I'll try no matter. If I'm stuck hanging out here for who knows how long, I may as well be helpful. Rather than just watching the dvds and vegging. Which I've done too much of lately anyway.

"I'll talk to Maggie. See if she knows where he is. Or I can try to find him some sort of sneaky way. Somehow."

Usually with just some creative wording I can get most things to work. Transporting through mirrors though. Never again. Thank god.

"Likewise, Bobbi. And please, don't apologize. I'll either make it a bigger mess, or clean it up. Unless you're referring to the situation in which case. Well. I'll be... here. Be careful Bobbi."

Bobbi : "Pshaw. I'm always careful."

Fingergunning at Nico, she backs out the door again, hooking the car keys with her as she does.

One more person out of the line of fire.

Rogue : Breakings and Beginnings

Wed, 07 May 2008 08:30:50 GMT

Rogue : It's a bit early in the year for this, but you know what they say. No time like the present, or something along those lines. Normally I wait until further on in the summer for this, a specific date. It's an anniversary of sorts. A ritual, a reminder. Something a sane person would probably not be doing, but while I'm not exactly certifiably insane, I do put myself through a lot of things that to me, are only right. To other people, to friends, well. They're crazy.

And I've got to admit, I've thought they were too, on occasion. Doesn't stop me from doing it though. What was it someone had called it? My self-flaggellation? I think that's too big of a fancy sounding word for it, personally. Reminding. Simpler, and I think it fits better. Reminding myself what I've done, what I'm capable of doing if I'm not careful.

I'm still taking my time in getting ready for the trip. It's not like I'm excited to go. After I'd gone into town to meet Beatrix at Dawg's, there was a little shopping to be done. The furniture in my room I've mostly got into a state of fashionably coordinated. From the four poster bed, to the vanity with its' large mirror that went well, an immensely comfortable overstuffed chair and ottoman in the corner. There's books on it, that I intend to read at some point. Whether that point is soon is the part that's up for debate. They're there, should I take the time, that's what matters to me.

Today's purchases, I had probably spent far too much money on. But given that I don't exactly pay for my housing now, it clears up some of where my income had been going. Leaving me to use it for unneeded purchases. The antique store that I had purchased my vanity at had gotten in a pair of gorgeous lamps. The price tags between the pair were enough to make me purse my lips and 'hmmmm' for a bit over them, but in the end, I couldn't resist the magnolia patterned stained glass. And what girl doesn't want to be able to tell everyone she has not one, but two Tiffany lamps? Not that I think anyone currently residing in the mansion, or that I'm in friendly contact with, would care two licks. But they please me and that is what my room, and its furnishing, are about. It's my sanctuary, and so I am trying to make it perfect.

Fingers nudge the glass shade of the smaller of the pair, that rests on the bedside table, straightening it, even though it doesn't really need that. It's more of my hesitating, I suppose. Finding things to occupy myself with, in order to put off this inevitable trip that is completely my choice in taking. Moving away from the side of my bed, I trail my uncovered fingers against the cool glass of the floor lamp. The metal of the post could use some polishing, I think the leaves engraved into it will really shine with a little elbow grease from me (and I do mean a little, otherwise I'd probably snap the thing in half). Once I've tidied it up, a task I'm making myself leave until after I get back, I'll place it by the chair, completing my reading corner.

It's all come much more together, and it's much more mine that I felt when I moved in initially. I never bothered to decorate the place in Mississippi where Remy and Jimmy had found me. Because, even though I stayed there almost two years, it was never meant to be a home, I never wanted it to be. Sure, it was a house. But it wasn't mine. This? Even though it's just a room and a bathroom... is mine. A decided contrast to my rough and tumble exterior, it's not the residence of the X-Men's tank, but of the Southern Belle. The girl that likes her billowing, sheer curtains, and satin coverlets. And Tiffany stained glass lamps.

She's also come to about the end of her procrastinating. I have that is. And steeling myself like I'm about to go off to battle, even though that is decidedly easier than this, I cross the room to my closet doors, throwing them open to reach into the top for my duffel bag. I suppose I don't really even need to take extra clothes, I don't plan to be there very long. Long enough to say my piece to a man that can't even hear it, who doesn't even know how sorry I am for what I did to him. I'd take the Bird, be down and back before anyone really could say much, but that's a bit more conspicuous of a vehicle to leave the grounds on.

Just my bike, most likely, idle thoughts rambling through my head as I return to the chest of drawers, pulling out my necessities. Change of clothes, some extra gloves. There's really no neatness or care to my packing. They're just clothes, and so they're just tossed. As long as they wind up inside the bag I don't so much care.

Logan : It's amazing how two people so polar opposite can get along so well. Everything that Rogue is going through, the planning, the plotting, the moving around, the throwing things in to the closet and then pulling them out, the packing and the unpacking, all of it might be hectic and out of order but it's still pretty much a typical girly thing for her to be doing. All of it interrupted by...

Nnnnngghhh.... mraaaaaaaaaw... The frilly little silken bed sheets from the four poster bed pull downward, only for them to suddenly blow outward when the exhale... Fooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooo.

The snoring started as a little whistling nose noise, but slowly begins to crescendo up in to a tidal wave of snoring that would even manage to break the thought processes of the most puerile Monk. Over and over and over and over...

....and over...

....and over....

Rogue : There's a sigh. Long and exaggerated, as I look back over my shoulder at the bed, punctuating my "annoyance" by dropping the wadded up shirt in my hands into the bag, before I move over to my vanity, to snag up my hairbrush, my little box of makeup, and my perfume. Those at least, I'm more careful with. Breakable and all.

"It is far too late inta the day for you to be lazin' in bed. Particularly in mine."

It has at least hijacked my thoughts away from where they'd been stuck all day, since I made the decision last night to move up my yearly itinerary by a few months. Shaking my head slightly, before I close up the duffel and set it down on the floor, so that I can grab it when I'm ready to go.

"Ah figure ah oughta at least extend an invitation. Since ya'll'll prob'ly show up anyway if ah don't."

Him and his being a damn ninja, and all. At least this way, I can pretend it's on my terms and that it was my idea.

"But if that ass is too firmly stuck, that's fine."

It's not like I make a habit of taking people along with me to Mississippi. Solitude makes for much more effective wallowing in regret, after all.

Logan : Beneath the covering of silk, my smile is hidden from Rogue unless she developed X-Ray vision. So she'll miss the fact that at no point in time was I actually as soundly asleep as I pretended to be. Nor was I so out of it that I missed her invitation, which now she thinks is solely her idea. Never will she suspect that I actually woke up while she was packing, watched what she was doing until I was sure of what her intentions were, then barrel-dived in the middle of them by making myself impossible to ignore any further.

Jaws smacking, legs and arms flaring out every which away as I stretch out my 'sleepy' form, only to rub my eyes and peek up at Rogue from behind froofy little bits of her comforter. "Mmm... goin? Where are we goin...?"

Flicking all the covers off the bed, revealing the simple commando state of dress that I sleep in, and flicking my legs over the edge of the bed (they manage not to touch, due to the nature of her style of bed). Ironically my wing-tips don't look the least bit out of place, as if normal hair-do, is the sleepy-headed state it's always in.

Once more stretching out like a lion, with the intentions of popping my back (a metallic sounding pop), before golden eyes focus on her. "Didn't you JUST get here?"

Rogue : "Down south. Mississippi. It ain't much excitin' so mah feelin's ain't gonna be the least bit bruised if ya'd rather stay."

Its hard to say, even in my own thoughts, whether or not one of the possible answers here is going to be that much better than the other. I've had plenty of alone time in this last stretch of my life, so it'd either be more of the normal, or just... lonely.

"Oh, good Lord, must ya do that? It sounds just awful."

Like some part of him ought to be hanging at wrong angles, after that cracking sound. I should have packed up my bag a little slower, now I don't have much of an excuse for anything left to be doing. So I settle for dropping sideways into my chair. And doing my level best to keep my eyes to myself.

"Vicksburg, t'be completely specific. Weeks ago, yeah. What's your point? Ain't we s'posed to be a globe trottin' bunch?"

Logan : "Didn't one o' yer friends just have whole city block leveled?" The questions are to prod her, she's taking this trip at a time when she might be doing other things, so that makes me wonder why.

I suspect I know though, but I also suspect she ain't willing to admit it yet.

Standing up, eyes narrowing as she asks me not to pop my joints but accepting it might be disturbing so giving in without argument, I do turn and face her though. Hands upon hips. "So. Globetrottin?"

The grunt I give is followed immediately, by my crossing the distance between her and myself. Wordlessly reaching down to put my hands on her hips, and hefting the super-dense muscled Rogue up out of the chair and to me. Sniffing the air as I do, but depositing her on the ground next to me. "Yer sittin on my shorts."

"Mmm, whatcha runnin away from, Roguey?"

Rogue : "Ah'm bettin' it wasn' her choice. But yeah. Bobbi's place got brought down around all of our ears. Ah'd say nothin's gonna happen in the time ah'll be outta town but. Well. Ah'd just be jinxin' it."

I may be covered nearly head to toe, except for my face and my long hair even takes care of that for the most part, but having someone else so very not covered is intensely awkward and uncomfortable. So when he puts me down again, I slide a step back again, keeping the pursed lipped expression that I'd put on when he picked me up in the first place. Putting up a fight just wasn't worth it. I don't want my furniture busted. I'm sure I could probably fix it, but it's just so much simpler to not need to.

"Well maybe ya shouldn' leave them in mah chair next time."

The question comes like an accusation, and so it gets my flare of temper going. Just for a moment though.

"Ah ain't runnin' away from anythin'."

And the only thing that really gets my flight reflex going of late is Logan. So since I'd invited him along it obviously can't be that. The heat leaves my voice, and melts from my posture as hands drop from where i'd planted them a moment earlier on my hips.

"Jus' decided ah oughta move up mah annual date with mah ex. Felt like ah needed t'do some talkin'. An' he's a top notch listener."

Or I pretend he is anyway. That he can understand a word of what I'm saying. Like it will make me feel less guilty.

Logan : "Shouldn't leave 'em on yer chair? Fine, but when I put 'em in yer draws with them silky things you think I ain't went through already, don't say I didn't warn you." She moved herself right in to that, so I give her exactly what I set up with the first comment.

Then she catches it. She's perceptive, smart, but she's also quick to anger and frustration and that opens a lot of doors that she wouldn't normally open if I went the easy way. So while she talks, I turn my back to her and bend over to put on my shorts that I've retrieved. Like she says her ex does, I listen and do it very well.

"So," my voice taking on a whole new 'ah-hah' tone, "Yer runnin from me."

Turning back to look over my shoulder at Rogue as I search for a shirt, hell half my stuff I laundered around her room anyway. Not that it's worn and tossed there, but I opened my duffle bag and dirtied up her room to make it feel more homely, just to get her fired up.

"Someone's pushin at those barriers you got up all around you, so you need to go 'talk to the ex'. You gotta get out these thoughts you're havin with him, confess your sins, and ask some ghost you still cater to, for forgiveness to let you off the hook so you can move on." Bushy brows narrowing then. "But it ain't gonna come, is it. He don't answer you. Never has, except maybe that bit of him in your head."

"But it's okay, cause you know what? Every single year, I got to the little cabin I have in Canada. I go there and say some things I couldn't say to anyone else, but her. Rose don't answer either, but that don't matter."

"It ain't my business if yer goin, Rogue, it's just important that you be honest about why yer runnin from me."

Rogue : Squinting at him for a moment, the look I tend to get when he's pulled one over on me and I know that it's all my fault he had the opportunity to do so. Not quite infuriating, but still frustrating. I'm not used to this anymore. The joking around with the girls is one thing, even if all of them have decided to be love life counselors of late. And led to the new car getting a few more dents than it had originally, for me to spend extra time straightening out.

"Ah can still throw you out th'window, ya know. Even if all it'd get me was a drafty room."

I know better than to throw anything of his, him included, and think it'll end up the way I wanted, especially after the first night he showed up on the doorstep. I'd moved most of his clothes when I got back in, muttering under my breath, to make what I thought was at least a slightly tidier bunch of piles. I'm pretty sure it'd been hanging off the mirror when I got back in.

"An' yet ah asked you t'come? Ah must be pretty horrible at runnin'."

I'm sure he figured out my motivations on that front though. And that's why he's got me so neatly backing into the conversational corner right now.

"So what if ah am? What's wrong with tryin' to do somethin' the way ah think is right. Oh, he'll answer. If ah let 'im come out of the NeverNeverLand ah've made in my head."

Where people go, once I've touched them, and they never grow up, never grow old. Just stay the same as they were at the moment of contact. Of course, ideally I don't let them back out again. Unless I have to. Letting my fists relax, from where I'd held them clenched, brushing fingertips against the hips of my uniform, trying to relax myself some. I didn't know about the cabin of his. If he's got his little ritual too, I'd think he'd understand.

"Why? B'cause ah don' know what else t'do. Why cain't you just let me be, like everyone else has come to?"

That isn't true though. It's how I know my friends, those that do come close, that try to hug me regardless of my chilly seeming reactions. It's those that aren't close that stay away, keep their distance. Even though I say that's what I want, it still makes me sad.

Logan : "You just answered yerself."

"Everyone else does. Everyone else is content to let little Rogue do whatever it is that little Rogue wants. You came to this school t' get help, and Chuck has given it, the X-Men have given it. You were broken when you got here, couldn't look at people without bein spooked about maybe killin 'em with a touch. You have gotten better, yer functional, yer out there, you are fightin for what is right. In a fight there ain't many X-Men I'd rather have with me, than you, darlin, but every time it gets tough on you. Every time you have trouble, every time yer put in a position that's difficult... where you might have to accept normalcy?"

"You run. You ghost like some sort of prize-winnin dog at the track, after it's rabbit down the rabbit hole called Mississippi." Once a shirt is found, one of the flannel ones that buttons up. "Rogue, you wrap yerself up in so much clothing sometimes I can't even see yer face for the hair, to know it's you or that Penance girl that used to be around her. You have this stuff all over you, because you say it's protectin other people from yer touch, but that's a lie. You have all this crap on because it protects you from havin more o' them in yer mind."

"...and the clothes are just the start. You build up walls, and you say it's to protect other people but it ain't, yer just protectin yerself. Cuttin yerself off to save yerself. Like I said, I can understand that too. It ain't like yer a unique and special snowflake, bub, but I ain't here ta let ya lie to me or yourself anymore."

"You wanna run away, then go on, I ain't gonna stop ya." Lifting my hand with one finger up. "...but I ain't comin ta drag you home either. I won't be lettin anyone else do it either. When I came here I was a killer, a contract killer, an assassin, a member of the Brotherhood sent her to spy on Xavier. When it all played out they gave me a choice, and now I'm givin it to you."

"Stop runnin away. Stay here with me. Or go talk to the voices in yer head, alone. I ain't goin with ya."

Rogue : "Ah didn' change mah name to Rogue just because it makes me sound like a badass, Logan. Ah found it rather fittin', considerin' all mah hangups, an mah issues. Normal f'me was a Nazi of an Aunt, that ah'm sure was more'n happy to see the back of me gone out the door. Ah don' know how t'do normal."

Crossing the room, to smooth out the covers of my bed that he's vacated, before I sit down on the edge.

"Ah'm damn near perfect when it comes t'doin' what ah do now, sugah. Ah'm good in a fight, ah'm even better when ah've got mah team with me. When ah try t'grab at what it is that ah really do want? Ah screw it up. Every time."

I drive off everyone that loves me, or should love me, in the end. Mom had disappeared, Dad didn't want to raise a bawling baby on his own, and Aunt Carrie who really did love me, I drove off when I tried to rip proof out of her that she didn't. Cody... well. He didn't truly love me, we were too young. But it's just the easiest example to take onto the top of everything else.

"Ah'm tired of screwin' up the things ah want. Ah gave up on mah fairy tale, an ah was okay with that. An' now you're tryin' t'put another one in my hands, and Lord. It looks invitin'."

Big Bad Rogue. The idea of not being the definition of the word, the wandering vagrant, the lonesome animal, it sounds lovely. And scary all at the same time.

"Ah'm s'posed t'be invulnerable. Ya ain't s'posed t'be able t'get at mah skin, let alone under it. What happens if ah do stay with you? An' Jean comes back. Ah cain't possibly expect ya to stay with me then. It's a little hard t'launch into somethin' when all ah think is ah'm not the right princess for this story."

Of course most people wouldn't think of his as a Knight in Shining Armor, I suppose. I don't think any of us in this building count as 'most', though.

Logan : Snort.

"Listen, Kid, Julia Roberts done did the Runaway Bride gimic, you ain't half as perfect as you think you are." Moving around to find pants, with my tracking skills it shouldn't be as hard as I make it look. "I could sit or stand here all night and argue with you. I've got the quotes like, 'better to have loved and lost' or the poetry, or the music. Hell, I could sing to you in any of the forty languages I know."

"It don't change the fact that you bolt when this little lie you wrap yourself in is threatened. We keep coming back to it, and you keep lookin to me for the absolutes, the sure things, the safety nets, the lock and key that promises you safety like a security blanket. It ain't happenin, I ain't gonna lie to you, in fact it's about time you had someone tell you the truth."

"The truth is if yer afraid to fail then yer never gonna try, and if you never try you ain't never gonna get any better. Yer gonna live your life like this." My face scrunches up as if that idea sickens me. "Alone. Secluded. Afraid. Which means you ain't teachin any kids that come here the whole goddamn point of 'here', you ain't livin the life of an X-Man, and you need to hike yer ass back to Mississippi a lot more than you think cause you ain't even ready to be a student here."

"Oh, and one more truth, Rogue." Having finally found pants, and now busy putting them on so I can walk out. "The next time you hang yer fear on Jeanie, I'm gonna forget yer a girl, and knock you on yer invulnerable ass. Cause I'm sittin here fightin tooth and nail to drag you out of your shell, so if you ain't the princess of this story, I woulda been on the first plain t' Greece."

Rogue : I'm not going to call someone on doing something slowly. Like finding pants. I have, after all, perfected the ability to spread out picnic baskets and pack bags, and make beds, in eighteen times the strictly needed amount of time. I'm also not happy to hear what it is that he's saying. And it's clear enough from the arms folded posture I've adopted. Who likes having holes poked into their modus operandi, though? No one that I know.

Especially when it's hitting on the sense, that is echoing through my head even if it doesn't exactly come from my own consciousness in there. What he says about teaching here, trying to help out kids who come running here, just like I did at one time, looking for help, and for something to be made to make sense for them.

Drawing my knees up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them. Not so much a defensive pose, as the arms folded was. Something else.

"Ah'm sorry, Logan. Ah shouldn't've... Princesses are s'posed t'have better manners, hm? Maybe the ones of the Southern persuasion are kinda lackin' in that. But. Ya'll're right."

Another shrug, as I lay my cheek against my knees.

"You're scary. An ah ain't accustomed t'bein' scared of anythin'."

Logan : No one can hear it, but something in Rogue just popped like the joints in my back that started this whole discussion. Wordlessly, which is a feat given this whole discussion, I cross the room to her and just put my arms around her. Not allowing her to hold the drawn in posture.

Dangerously close to Rogue's ear, I whisper in to it, "I scare people for a livin darlin, it's what I do, but you ain't got nothing t' fear from me."

"C'mon, Belle, yer already packed. Let's go."

Rogue : It's a testament to either me trying to take to heart what he'd said, or of him constantly intruding into my personal space since he showed up, that I don't jerk away from his approach. Probably more of the latter but I don't think it so much matters enough to need saying.

"Ah've just gotta tell 'im in person. Even if no one else does, ah think ah owe him that much."

Or possibly I don't want to open that quadruple deadbolted door in my mind to let him out and give him my speech there. It'd get more of a reaction, true. But it was hard enough for me to build that wall, and get everyone back behind it again.

"What, now you're comin'? Well. Ah'd say ah should pack somethin' for ya, but with th'way ya insist on throwin' your crap around mah room, some prob'ly already wound up in there."

It'll be a short trip, if nothing else. But. I think I actually will be thankful for the company.

Logan : All I have to say, which again considering how much I've said might mean I'm 'punched out, is... "I own a place down there, got some friends there too."

There aren't many places in the world that James Howlett hasn't had to go, some of them I remember, some of them I don't, some of the ones I remember didn't really even happen, just got implanted. One of the few that I know about is my trip to the south, my days at the Blue Rock on the River.

"We ain't flyin though, I'll grab the keys t' Chuck's bentley."

Rogue : "No slummin' it in the place next t'the hospital? Ah guess ah ain't gonna argue with that."

Unfolding the rest of the way, to put feet on carpet again, and climb up off of the bed.

"Ah'd been plannin' on takin' mah Harley. Ah suppose the Bently means less bugs in th'pearly whites."

A flash of a grin, finally. I think the mental image is humorous anyway.

Rogue : The Talk

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 01:37:19 GMT

Rogue : It's been an eventful week. Maybe eventful isn't even a proper word for it, but given what sorts of activities I'd been involved in, such as antique shopping, this one had certainly been something else. There's always that high following a successful team outting, even if most of the 'team' wasn't really there. It's always even better when everyone goes back home with manageable levels of injuries. Less worries to be occupying the mind with, more time for celebration.

I haven't exactly spent much time in lighthearted celebration though, more mind reeling confliction than anything else. I would have tried to avoid Logan, but there really just wasn't any good excuses that I could come up with, and needing to wash my hair just really wasn't going to fly. I'm not at all sure what to make of it, and the flock of warring demons and angels that ride shotgun in my head, instead of the stereotypical perches on the shoulders, really aren't helping me.

The bar, and the beers, had been fine though, and I'd enjoyed the music if nothing else. A day for wearing jeans, my boots, and a faded band t-shirt. Well. And the gloves of course. Not that at this at this point anyone who knows me finds it odd to be wearing them. I think the only thing odd about them would be if I wore the same pair more than once. Since people get them for me for gifts, I'd got endless amounts.
Back at the grounds of the X-Mansion, there was apparently going to be lunch. And more beers. Six-pack hooked over a finger, blanket rolled up under the other arm.

"This spot acceptable enough?"

Wolverine : Search and Rescue. That's what it boiled down to. Fly in from Europe, search down leads, find them, then rescue my daughter. Adventure would be too 'good' a word for what it all was. This wasn't adventure this was a fight, a dirty and gritty fight. But it served a lot of purposes, one of them was getting back on the Horse so to speak. Getting my feet wet with a good old fashioned butt-kicking, instead of the last year's fill of hiding and running.

Actually if you can believe it, it's been more than a year.

The 'celebration' for a job well done tends to be the popping open of a beer, having a few laughs with friends, and of course reliving the action of a fight done well. Except this wasn't the typical fight. Demon Ninjas, gooey, nasty, sulfur smelling demon ninjas. The team wasn't really a team. Creed got Dropped in downtown New York, Stick didn't get dropped off he just disappeared somewhere over the Manhattan area, and that Deadpoolette didn't disappear so much as had to be scraped off with a putty knife.

So the only X-Men celebrating had been me and Rogue. No wonder she tried to avoid me the next day. I'd avoid me the morning after too. A dirty pool hall, some beer, and a few laughs of old times cleared all that avoiding thing up though. Now we're having a picnic.

"One spot's as good as the next normally, darlin, but I think...." Looking up, then around, sniffing the air, then glancing over the Mansion's lake, as if really evaluating the entire scene. "...this'll do nicely."

One beer for Rogue. Five for Logan. That's my kind of math. "When all the garbage with the tepes started, Jeanie got involved with all that. She was offended, sense.. well... clearly it's all a bit personal for her. She got in with Emma, she did her fightin. She did what she could, but then the targets started dropping all over the world. Tepes being snatched in their sleep, and all she wanted to do was ... kill the culprits. It was a bit shocking to her to realize she hadn't thought about Laura. Our kid. She hadn't thought of her at all, until -after- Sinister's goons tried to capture us in Japan."

"She wasn't thinking like an X-Man, like herself, she was thinkin like -me-. It shocked her to the core. Jeannie is a lot of things, but she isn't me."

Rogue : "Here we sit, then."

Bending to set the cans down on the grass, before I start spreading out the blanket for us to sit on. Probably a bit more meticulously than I really need to be, because there's no reason that it has to be just so, perfect. But I'm busying myself, more than anything. And the jeering in my head is much harder to ignore not that we're out in the quiet of the outdoors, on the nearly deserted property. And it's embarassing.

The look on my face is kind of... quizzical. I guess I hadn't expected him to launch into this, though my mind's teeming with questions that I think should be asked about it.

"Ah missed a lot of all that. Ah mean, ah heard some from the guys at the shop yappin' abou' it. Ah shouldn've been closin' mahself off so much. Ah shoulda come back sooner."

I'm afraid it looked to everyone else like I was avoiding 'the family' and was unwilling to help, until I was begged. Even though I know most are better than to think things like that of me.

"How'd she deal with it, then? Th'shock? Or did she."

Satisfied, apparently, with the state of the blanket's arrangement, I drop down onto it, crossing my boots at the ankles.

Wolverine : Rogue can lift a tank, I didn't carry anything but not because I wasn't gentlemanly. I didn't carry anything cause she looked like she needed something to occupy herself with. Now, watching her spread out the blanket, I'm pretty sure I was right. Though being right only makes me smirk a little, and that takes away from the fact that I'm trying to be 'open' about something important that I know is on her mind.

Hell, it didn't take mind-powers to know why Rogue was trying to avoid me at every turn. "She got very drawn in. Shock does that to you, but this was worse. You don't know this... hell.. most people don't know this, but the daughter we've been protecting? Isn't the one Jean carried for nine months. It's sort of a soap opera really, but after she gave birth to Rachel.. Cable stole her. You weren't around at the time, but a few of the X-Men knew, like Scott. Cable thinks Laura's imbued with that Phoenix Force thing, so he took her away. In to the future, to protect and train her. I almost killed him, but he almost killed Jean. He took Rachel because he thought Jean was a -bad influence-. Ironically... heh... the bastard left us a way to 'project ourselves' in to the future, so we could help raise Rachel. Which we did, but the world there is... grotesque. Apocalypse rules it. We didn't 'raise' Rachel, so much as spent 16 years in the future running. Running -all- the time, from Horrors most folks can't even imagine."

"So when Jean realized she was being selfish fighting all these Psionic problems and forgetting Laura? Something broke." I'm especially careful not to explain how 'Laura' came in to being, but to just tread forward with the part that Rogue might be interested in. "Then it just got worse when she realized here we are... in the present, doing the same thing we did in the past."

"The whole thing is a mess, but in the end, the problem with Jean wasn't Jean. It's me. She's not just telepathic she's empathic too, and she's feeding off my need to hide, to blend in, to attack. The loss of Rachel, has made Jean so senstive she's imprinting off me more than just living herself. SO when Amiko came up missin. We agreed it was time for a change." Now we see why I needed five of the six beers.

Rogue : Yes, anything and everything to try to occupy me with something that wasn't paying attention to my personal peanut gallery, wasn't thinking about what had gone on in the last day.

"She ain't?"

There's not much pushing for information, and it isn't so much even a genuine question, as an exclamation of surprise, as I settle back on my elbows. The world's full of all sorts of unexplainables. And it's confusing enough without trying to figure out all the how's and why's for myself. I guess I'll just chalk it up along the lines of how Beatrix exists but doesn't. Or however the hell it was she'd said it. Much like that, I'm just going to accept the information I'm given, and move on.

"Ah cain't even imagine what it woulda been like. An ah ain't gonna do ya'll the disservice of sayin' "ah understand" or "ah know that must be hard." 'Cause ah'm sure ah don't."

Just like I don't appreciate it, much as folks might think I would, when they try to be all empathic about my personal curse. Because they don't know what it's like.

"We talkin' like, a temporary change here? A see if things're any different? Or..."

He's explaining, a very much more detailed answer to the question I probably asked too many times, more than I expected, though I guess I don't really know exactly what it was I was expecting.

Wolverine : "She ain't. Jean and I 'had' Rachel, but Laura...." reaching back to scrub the nape of my own neck as I start to answer this one, while I don't owe Rogue this particular information, I do owe her the truth so I push on with it. "When we tracked down Scalphunter, a few months ago, he was holding up at a base of Sinister's. We chased him down inside the place, and just before we started to blow it up I caught Rachel's scent."

"...but when I looked for it, I didn't find Rachel. I found ... well... Sinister had been playing with our DNA, Laura is the result. She's just like Rachel, but not... we rescued her. She's innocent in all Sinister's games. We couldn't just leave her when we blew up the base."

"She filled Jean's gaping hole in her heart." That explains it all.

Instinctively, reaching over to touch Rogue's cheek, before realizing that might not be the best thing to do. "It's.. uh...not as black and white as temporary or not. It's just the way it is, right now."

Rogue : "An' ah'm bettin' gave her a better start than anythin' someone like Sinister woulda."

A set of parents that'd do anything to protect you. I don't think anyone could want for much better than that, but then, I might be a little prejudiced. I can barely remember what mine even looked like. There were hardly even pictures, since my Aunt did... Lord knows what with them.

"Cutest packagein' for epoxy y'could ever see, ah'm sure."

A flash of a smile, but I've got a soft spots for kids anyway. The movement towards me gets the normal reaction for any sort of touch I see coming. I tilt my face away. Not so much meant as any sort of insult, but I've spent the last twelve years of my life doing everything I can to avoid touching people.

"Oh. Ah see."

What did I want to hear instead of that? I don't know. That was, and wasn't it. Nothing ever gets to be just black and white, does it? There's always gotta be those complicate shades of grey.

Wolverine : Did this talk make things better or worse? Right now the jury is out on that question, but I feel better getting to tell -someone-. That's odd in and of itself, being a loner I've never had anyone to tell anything to. Even if I did have someone to tell, I didn't bother. Rogue just asked the wrong question at the right time.

As she flinches away from any touch, I realize if I let her do it now it'll never curtail her doing it in the future, so I push forward despite knowing the outcome and put my hand upon her shoulder. "Nothin in the world is really assured, Kid. You just have the right to pursue what you want."

"The truth is. The more I've had to think about it, the more I'm sure of it. Life isn't about assurances, it's about takin chances. Rollin the dice and seeing if you roll snake eyes. If you play life safe, you'll live a lot longer but is it gonna be a happier life? Who's to say, it sure ain't gonna have you lose much."

With the grip on her shoulder, I pull the much stronger Rogue toward me, "It ain't gonna let you win anything either."

Rogue : It's not like he's touching skin, you'd think it wouldn't make me as anxious as it does. But whether or not it should or shouldn't, I'm just intensely uncomfortable with being touched period. I guess it makes me something like a stray cat that's been brought in. No matter how well you feed it, and the pampering it gets, a sudden move's going to send it running with bristle brush tail and hair on end.

"Ah know. Ah ain't a big fan of losin'. Do like winnin', though. But. Logan."

Chewing on the corner of my lip, as I turn my eyes from staring at the hand on my shoulder, to looking up at the clouds, like I'll find something up there to magically tell me what to do.

"Ah cain't give you what you had."

A bitter confession, and it colors the twang in my voice.

"Ah wouldn' wanna try t'replace your family, not that ah could even if ah did. Th'best ah've got is well. This. An' ah don' know if ah can stand t'be a poor man's anythin'."

It's not fair. I would love to have a real family, for once in my life. Not be the abandoned kid taken in by someone who had to, and as much as I love all the rest of the X-Men, and belonging to that, it's never the same in my mind. If I could make myself just be happy with what I have won for myself. But I'm not. I guess I'm always looking for some new way to punish myself.

I'd resisted against the pull on my shoulder, while I said my piece. Because I need to get it off my chest.

Wolverine : There is a sudden, you might call it feral, urge to throw my remaining beer across the lake when she speaks the first couple words. Everything I had worked up in telling her all this, just amounted to not much when she falls back to old faithful. It's not that she wants to be like this, but like me and my lack of manners, she's had a life-time to build up her defenses.

Her problem is, that I am well versed in tearing defenses down, just watch. "I don't want what I had, kid. I don't want some replacement for Jean. I don't want some ten minute fling, before I go back to Greece. If I did, I'd have looked up Viper or Mystique."

She didn't let me pull her over, and frankly I'm not too convinced I can force the issue with a woman who -does- in fact bench press tanks. So instead I just push myself up and on to my feet, so that I can look down at her. "Maybe this is exactly what I need. Someone who's just as untouchable as I am."

"...but... if you're gonna be selfish and make this all about you..."

Rogue : No, I suppose I wouldn't make a very good fling. Which is why I could never fathom the wooing Remy attempted to carry on with. Beyond the fact that I wouldn't be interested in being anyone's fling, when you've gone as long as I have without this sort of relationship, and spend so long romanticizing the whole institution, a fling just ain't going to be good enough.

"Ah ain't bein' selfish."

The bitterness has melted behind a wave of sudden heat in my voice, and an indignant set to my features. When he stands, I push myself up off my elbows into a seated position again. If I were selfish, I'd do whatever the hell I wanted, Lord help whomever it was I hurt, and to what degree, in the process. In my mind, the keeping myself away, and separate from anyone who wanted to get close to me is the epitome of selflessness.

"All ah ever do is hurt people. So 'scuse me if ah'm a little wary abou' launchin' inta somethin' that ah'm afraid is just gonna do the same t'you."

Wolverine : "All you do is hurt people? Every time I fall in love with someone, Rogue, they end up dead or worse. They pine their lives away worried about me, while I'm off with amnesia and forget they even exist."

"So don't you give me the line about you hurting me." That's right, Rogue just got scoffed at. "What's the worst you'll do to me? Touch me. Oh, golly, gee. I lived through a nuclear explosion! What can you do to me, that I ain't gonna just get better from."

"I expected a lot of things from you, darlin, but bein a coward wasn't one of them." She's stronger, but not quicker and I doubt she'll even see me move before I reach down and hall her off the blanket by her sides. "I'd call it selfish, if you're worried more about hurtin yourself, but hide behind sayin you're worried about hurtin the other person. When you can't hurt the other person. Selfish -and- dishonest."

Rogue : "Well ah ain't exactly got a track record t'make me think otherwise. What's the worst ah could do? Ah could suck all the life outta ya and then live with ya joinin' all the rest of 'em up in mah head tellin' me what t'do."

It doesn't really seem like such a good argument anymore. Even though it's worked every other time I've tried it before. Most people don't want much to do with me when they know what I could do to them though. And I've never had anyone call me a coward. When he hauls me up off the blanket and to my feet, there's not much for me to do beyond... stand there like an idiot, with my jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, while I search for some magical phrase to win this argument for me.

So. That I what... go back to just being lonely and overhauling engine after engine while I try to make myself feel better? My excuse does just sound like me frantically coming up with reasons to not expose myself to getting hurt. Probably because it is. With Remy, it was easy. Since I'm fairly well convinced I was right, that I was just some golden fleece to steal.

"Ah ain't a chicken..."

Wolverine : "Joinin up in your head...." it takes a moment for me to figure out what the hell it is she's saying, but when I do? "You mean... you're afraid that being around me is gonna end up with me in your head tellin you what to do...? That's it? That's your big galdurned worry?!?!"

So. I kiss Rogue. Not just a peck on the lips either.That sort of kiss that lingers a long time. Even for a normal person, but a long longer than it should when the girl getting it is gonna get a real good bit of you in the process.

And I know the instant I did it that I'm taking a big chance, because I can -feel- Rogue's power instantly. Pulling at me, not my physical self, but that bit inside of me that is who I am. I know in a moment she'll break away and wonder what in the hell it is I think I'm doing... but in the moment before she reacts I give Rogue a piece of my mind.

Literally.

Rogue : "No! That ah'm gonna ki-..."

What in all the Hells does he think he's doing? People in my head I can live with, I do it daily. Somedays it's easier to keep them locked behind my little 'door' and out of my way. Others it isn't such an easy trick, even if I try to do everything Xavier taught me.

And of course his can't just be a quiet little whisper, like some of the others. He's got too much of an iron will for that. No. There are of course, some reassurances of worries I'd had, delivered straight from one mind to the other thanks to that uninvited touch. Green eyes flare wide in the moments it takes for me to recollect myself, and jerk away from him before I wind up doing exactly what it is I was trying to tell him I was scared of.

And my voice is a whisper, as eyes drop from his face.

"That ah'll kill ya. An' live the rest of my life with ya in mah head blamin' me. An' Amiko blamin' me. An' Jean. An' your daughter."

Wolverin : As she pulls away, removing not only her lips but also the support of her muscles holding my adamantium butt up, I drop straight back down to the blanket. On my knees. Gulping in air, like a man drinking water after a walk in the desert.

"Rogue," my voice for the moment is a little weaker than it was right before the kiss, "That ain't what my voice is saying. We both know it."

"I ain't never got to blame anyone else for the fortunes or misfortunes in my life. Life don't work like that. No way, no how. Life is what we make it, what we make of it, and there ain't no one else to blame for it but ourselves. The choices we make or don't make. I'm choosing to do this, I chose to kiss you just now... those are my choices and I gotta live with 'em."

"Can you live with choosing to walk away?" Now she gets to see both of the reasons I did kiss her, as the kiss would probably have put others down and out for a while, but my healing factor is already fighting the effects off and letting me get back to my feet, but also... now I'm in her head too, my voice mingled with the others, and it's gonna be saying the same thing I'm saying now. "Cause if you do, then yer a selfish coward. Selfish for thinkin you can make my decisions for me, and a coward for using that as a comp-out to run away from me."

Rogue : I should probably have helped him back up, but instead I just stand there, fingers pressed against my forehead like it will help me process out this new influence in my mind, that's agreeing with what's being spoken audibly.

"Ah'm sure ah could. Ah've lived with a lot of things ah've done that ah ain't th'least bit happy over."

Shrugging my shoulders, just the slightest movement. With, I notice, not the least twinge left in it, really, from the bullet from weeks back. Another side effect of that contact.

"Ah've spent my whole life walkin' out. Away. Ah'm pretty damn good at it, Logan."

Maybe it's genetic. I got it from Mom and Dan. I walked out on Aunt Carrie. I walked out on Genosha. I walked out on the X-Men, all for reasons that seemed perfectly good at the time. And it seems to me like my reasons are still pretty good on this one. But I know deep down, I'm not the coward. And I'm not selfish, even if that's how it's come off. You know what they say about the road to Hell, though.

"Maybe ah better do somethin' ah'm horrible at."

Wolvrine : "I've spent my whole life disappearing, Rogue. That's why I can't go back to Greece." The first couple moments on my feet are wobbly, but they clear up quickly enough that I can finally look like I'm completely back to normal. "It's time that we all start doin things differently."

"The best thing Chuck taught me, is that we don't ever have to do it alone."

Time for words has passed though, and I know from her last few that she's at least considering it. Now she needs to take the first step and I am to not let her think about it, cause over thinkin is what got us to this point.

"You're blushin, Rogue." No she isn't, but after move forward with every intention of no longer giving Rogue an inch of space, she will be. "See. There it is. I see the color in your cheeks already."

Why do I think she's blushing? Because I know the voice in her head has already told her what I'm going to do next. So it won't surprise her when I put my hands back on her waist and heft her in to my arms right proper. The brute in me can't help but push the envelope, and deny her any space. On the other hand, the truth is I know Rogue has to chose to let me do anything.

"We came out here for a picnic, darlin, I'm starvin."

Rogue : "No ah'm not..."

I'm familiar enough with myself that I know the sensation of turning red in the face. And this is not it. Or it wasn't. At least not until I get pulled in, and get the additional commentary feeding right on into my thoughts. I think I would have been fine if it weren't for that. Maybe. Probably not, though.

"Didn' anyone ever teach ya abou' personal space? Good Lord."

Pulling a face at him, before I squirm my way back onto my own feet. I think I even pulled off making it look not quite as frantic as I feel about the whole thing. Even if I am going to make a concerted effort at the whole thing, I still don't see it going easily.

"Why dontcha man handle some sandwiches then, instead of me?"

Wolverine : "You didn't seem to object t' the man-handlin...." trailing off mischeviously.

Even though I'm teasing her a little more, wanting to see her blush just blossom like a flower, I pull out my flute from a back pocket. No sandwiches, but I did plan to do something other than manhandling her. At least, right now. The flute isn't the type you'd see in a major band, but a pipe wheedled from a branch by obvious claws. The first couple tunes are nothing special, but as I lower back down on to the blanket, I play a few notes for her purposefully.

Looking up at her challenging, but my face filled with the promise that I'll play something just for her if she joins me. "Watch that first step, it's a biggie."

Rogue : "Ah'd think tellin' ya t'move onto the food was good enough."

Rolling my eyes at him, planting hands on my hips while he takes his new place. The instrument gets some scrutinizing. I guess I'd never really pictured him as an instrumentalist of any sort. The fact that it's a flute, and apparently a handmade one at that, is even more surprising.

"Y'forget? Ah don' need to step. Ah can fly."

With that, i'm dropping down onto the blanket again. Not flying. But still. And I'm grabbing one of the beers while I'm at it.

Wolverine : Without a word, without making a big deal of her choice, without even drawing attention to it at all, I just start to softly play tunes through the flute. Seemingly without even looking or paying attention to Rogue. As if the music is as much for me as it is her. The song choice is likely not one that Rogue would even recognize but in my time through out this life I've picked a few things up here and there.

When I'm done, when the flute is set just to the side, I reach over put the flute in to one of Rogue's hands. Then brush hair from her face without touching her skin. No need to speak or tell her what it all means.

If she has a little 'me' in her head now. Sooner or later she'll be able to play that song back to me, won't she? The symbolism is there, I leave it unsaid, but I'm just going to spend the next little bit looking at her eyes in complete, unnatural for me, silence.

Rogue : Logan's Arrival

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 23:50:40 GMT

Wolverine : The sign on the gate says 'Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning', but to those of us who went here for years we know that this place is called the X-Mansion. When i first laid eyes on the place it wasn't a school, not in the terms people think of when you say 'school', it wasn't even an institution. It was a target for me, sent here by Weapon X to destroy one of the most dangerous mutants in the world: Charles Francis Xavier. It didn't end that way, but that's how it started, and now on my way back through those pearly gates it sure does seem like this place has lost it's luster.

The flight over was long, though oddly uneventful even despite (or perhaps in spite of) a trip through customs. A man sporting half a ton of Adamantium would normally have a world of trouble with those metal detectors, but they've never been much of a problem for me. The bike was right where I left it, in storage out near the old Warehouse base across the bridge into New Jersey. The drive to Westchester was probably the hardest part about the whole thing. New York is a 'freezone' but to get in or out of the city you gotta go through check points, which is like it's very own international customs department, but worse.

Sentinels in the streets. Patrolling. Accepted. Where did it all go this wrong?

Still the moment I see the Southern Belle coming out of the Mansion's doors to greet me, I have to admit that somethings only America has to offer. "Rogue, you are a sight for sore eyes. When did they drag you back out here? Actually. Nevermind. All that matters is they did, I always said this place needed good wallpaper, you're better than most."

Rogue : There's still not a lot of folks about, not that I should have expected everyone to just pop up like a batch of spring daisies. Would have been nice, but it'll come. Sure, it ain't a baseball field in the middle of a cornfield, but I kind of think of it in the same terms. At least, I'm hoping they will come. When the notice of someone coming up the road from the gates came, I don't know exactly who I'd been expecting to be there.

This really wasn't it. Not in a bad way, of course. I probably still look mildly surprised, if not pleased, as I move my way down to meet him at the drive.

"Ah didn't think ah'd be seein' you out here anytime soon, sugah."

Shrugging my shoulders, with a little lopsided grin.

"Can't be in all the rooms at once, ah would make a great addition t'all of 'em though. Normally settle for just brightenin' up mah place. Well. An' the garage."

I can decorate one room. I don't have the desire to prettify up the rest of the mansion. It doesn't really need it anyway, the place is nice. My room just got the working over so I could completely call it mine.

Wolverine : From beneath the brim of the old duster hat, my eyes focused on Rogue long before she is even fully visible to normal people. When only a few paces away from her, I cut the engine off and kick down the stand, to take in the 'sights' a little more fully. The Mansion isn't in disrepair but to a man who can smell and discriminate between thousands of different odors there's a few scents missing here. One of which is active students. Making it easy for me to tell the place isn't what it was, but the signs are there that suggest people like Rogue are working to fix that.

Especially if the scent of grease on Rogue is any indication. "I wasn't expectin t' be here either, but I keep tabs on family, and last week my daughter Amiko came up missin. She was involved in some kind of street fight in New York, now no one has seen her for a bit. She didn't call in to work, didn't show up."

"So. Here I am." Rogue may not know the whole story about why Jean and I went to Greece, so I chip a bit of that in. "Couple months ago someone was targeting all tepes and capturing them. Jean and I took our little one in to hiding, we already lost one, we didn't wanna lose a second one. Jean wanted to fight it, but... you gotta do what you gotta do to protect your kids."

Brushing back the cowboy hat, only to plant the brim on Rogue's head, while in one smooth 'Ninja' movement drawing the country belle in to a hug. Cause clearly Rogue doesn't initiate contact if she can help it, so I take care of that for her.

Rogue : "Amiko? Ah saw her there, not at all since. She needed a little assist outta the burnin' buildin' but past that..."

I was busy trying to not get anymore holes put in me, besides that shocking first one, and trying to get people out of the rapidly burning building. Since she's one of those take care of herself sorts, I let her alone after that, and went back home to nurse my wounds. Wound. I'd see if maybe Bobbi knew anything, mutual acquaintence and all, but I haven't seen the blonde since then either. I'm hoping that just means she's laying low, I know she can watch out for herself, and not anything worse.

"Jean still hidin' out then? Ah don't blame ya guys. Itsa better excuse for bein' wrapped up and elsewhere than ah had."

Another on the list of people I haven't seen in far too long, since before I took my 'little' break. Somewhat to my credit, I suppose, I at least return the hug, so that it's not completely like hugging a dead stiff fish. Even if the stiff parts still there.

Raising an eyebrow at him, from underneath the brim of his hat, even as I adjust it on my hair like it's now mine.

"Just in town t'find your daughter then? Ah'll do what ah can t'help."

Wolverine : "You were there," asking her in a tone that says I'm not the least surprised, "What the hell was going on up there?"

My 'official' connections get me no information, and my unofficial connections get me white-walled, so either something big happened and no one really knows what. Or something bigger happened and no one wants anyone else knowing what it was. Like the time I got 'nuked', sometimes things get covered up whether they should be or not.

"Jeanie is still keeping the vigil for Laura." My tone suggests I can not really give many details. "She wants to come back, to kick some asses, to straighten this mess all out, but we both agreed to do what's best for Laura. So she's staying under the radar, while I see what I can do with all this."

"Well. As for how long, that just depends. Let's leave it at that."

Rogue : "Beats th'hell outta me. Ah was doin' some window shoppin' an' ah heard the bang. An' with me bein' a girl who cain't resist an explosion... whoever it was doin' the attackin', ah cain't say for sure. Other than they had helicopters sportin' adamantium tipped bullets. With mah name on 'em. Which ah personally found very rude."

I wish I had specifics to give him, that'd point in a better direction than my shrugs and dunnos say. But the bullets at least, aren't going to be available to just your run of the mill organization. Neither would the ability to cover the whole damn thing up.

"Long as yer here then. Ya can have your pick of a room, ah'm sure. Ah mean. We're teeming full at the moment an all, but ah think we can make room for ya, darlin."

Hell. He could probably have a dozen rooms right now. I know I had fun picking mine out.

Wolverine : "Did you recover one of them? The bullets, I mean." Almost instantly lifting off the bike and looking Rogue's shoulders over much more acutely than before. Which is saying something, considering the once over I gave on first perusal. "Not many groups out there have the money needed to throw around bullets of that caliber."

My pick of rooms? The smile on my face says she picked all the wrong words to string together in that offer, but I let her off the hook for a moment. Instead wheeling around to tug my bag off the back of the bike.

"Sure, GeorgiaPeach, but my first order of business is lookin in on Amiko's apartment, you feel like going for a ride. I could use the company, you could use a ride on a real bike, and I need a tour guide."

"Maybe we can get the kids together while I'm here. Play a little game I like to call Mutant Dodge Ball." Pushing past Rogue and toward the door of the mansion, my every intention is to go inside and scout out the booze, then head for the City. "I'd ask Chuck to search for Amiko, but I don't smell the Professor so he's probably out on business already. Just as well, I don't like pullin in the X when I can handle something solo."

Rogue : "Nah, sorry. Ah didn' even think about it. The hold got punched through me, an' some goons. An' a car. But that was at th'start. Ah was occupied playin' duck 'n' cover, an tryin' t'get people outta the buildings. They didn't fire another, either cause ah wasn't givin' 'em a clear shot, or maybe they didn't have another."

Scrutinizing that look for a moment, before I roll green eyes at him, and turn to follow him inside.

"A real bike. Ah'm pretty sure ah ain't been imaginin' ridin' mine. When ah finish mah set of four wheels though... whoo boy. Ya'll'll see. But ah think ah can help ya out with the tourin'. Professor ain't been here, unless he managed t'sneak in while ah was out buyin' furniture or somethin'."

Wolverine : "Bikes don't have four wheels, Rogue, cars do. Ain't no friend of mine gonna be riding a four-wheeler, unless they're three. Three years old, that is. So just you put them four wheelers away till I go back to where ever the hell I go when I ain't here."

She's rolling her eyes, but I'm looking over my shoulder as I charge through the mansion's front doors, grinning impishly. "Well, when we get out there, maybe we can hunt around for it. Bullets like that don't stop till they run out of gas. So never know, it might be around somewhere. After all, baby's first gunshot has to go in yer scrap book."

Scent alone will lead the way. I have to pick out my new, part-time, room after all. Any room I want. That's what Rogue said.

Rogue : "Really? An' all this time, ah thought ah'd been fixin' up people's motorcycles for them. What a silly girl ah am! Ah thought it kinda queer that they had doors..."

Clucking my tongue at him, with a shake of my head, even as I settle the hat more firmly over my head and follow him on inside.

"My bike don't need no more fixin' up. It's a car ah've been workin' on. That's gonna have to be a helluva scrapbook. Suppose there ain't a better way to find reason t'start one though."

Wolverine : After a few minutes of wandering, apparently aimlessly, through the Mansion in to the dorm and teacher rooms, I finally drop my duffle bag. In Rogue's room. Before shoving my hands in to my jacket pockets, flashing her the canines, and growling something about 'home sweet home.'

"Car? Hell darlin... I can fix that problem right up. Come on. We'll borrow one o' Charlie's."

Rogue : I would have thought he'd just pick the first one he came across and throw his stuff in. Of course I know whose door it is he finally stops in front of, and I've already got a pair of gloved fists posed upon my hips before he even finishes opening the door.

Now, as absolutely humorous as the thought of him stuck living in a room with lacy, fluttering drapes, delicate antique furniture, and filled with assorted flowering plants and candles would ordinarily be... this one's still mine.

"Charmin'. Ah didn' mean y'could take someone else's room. 'Specially not mine."

I really doubt he's going to move it. Which means I'll just have to put it on the roof for him later.

Wolverine : "'Ey, who said I was intendin 't take your room away?" My question is the last thing I say on the subject, as I push by Rogue on my way back to the stairs.

From the stairs I can make my way down to the living room, and the Professor's den where the keys are kept. It ain't the first time I've appropriated one of the Professor's cars. He's not in town so he won't even report it stolen this time. Not that he did in the past either, but there's always a chance he might wanna slap my wrists for teachin the kids all the wrong stuff.

"Stop standin there poutin, Rogue, we got to be goin. You don't think standin there lookin pretty is gonna get anything done do you? Wait. Don't answer that. That sounds like the beginning of a bad pickup line."

Rogue : "Well ah ain't sharin so ah think there's gonna have t'be a spat on th'matter later."

There isn't much point on arguing with him about it, at least not right now. Because he's right, stuff does need doing. And I suppose I should save my pouting and looking pretty in case we run across someone that needs a ... gentler persuasion than what I image he' capable of.

"Yer right, it does. Fine. Lets get goin'. We ain't done with that discussion though.

Rogue : Tour Guide Extraordinaire

Sat, 01 Mar 2008 09:33:10 GMT

Rogue : The appearance of Tabor a few evenings back had done more than make me marvel at how often 'it's a small world' is true. I suppose it wasn't even technically that applicable, since it wasn't exactly unheard of for a fellow mutant you met at one school for mutants, to pop up in another such. Moreso, it had set me to puzzling.

It wasn't as if his sudden, quick departure upset me or anything. He was an acquaintence, if anything. I remember him being at the Academy in the first weeks that I was there, when I was still skulking in rooms and corridors away from everyone else, only venturing out to to be social when it was time for my sessions with the Professor. I'd talked with him a few times, of course, but he took off not too long after I started showing my face to the sunshine a bit more.

It was more the realization that it had set me stewing over, exactly how many of us were Lord Above knows where. Haven't seen Emma in... I can't even think how long. And then faces that I hadn't seen in forever are cropping up again, like Jubilee. Topsy turvy times. I've been keeping mostly to the regular activities, though. Despite it. Emma'd asked me to teach the students a thing or two about the ins and outs of the guts of vehicles.

So maybe these mopeds are of absolutely no comparison to the machines I usually work on, but it's more their speed. I could rip these up and reassemble them with my eyes closed. But apparently I'm lacking the ability to pass that on to the kids. It's not like I had any teaching instruction before now...

"Oh, gawd. Now that's just gonna end with road rash t'put a baby's diaper t'shame..."

I'm talking to myself. I have been almost the entire time I've been re-repairing the bikes that I've had the kids working on. It's just muttered, since I've got a pencil clamped between my teeth while I wrench and crank my way from one moped to the next. I had at least a little bit of forethought to write down what parts they seem to have completely not caught onto (most of them...)

Alex : "Road Rash that puts a baby's diaper to shame? What the hell kind of diapers did you wear?" Speaking of former Xavier's students, I happen to be one of the Xavier second classers, not quite the distinction of the first class, but along with Kurt, Storm, Colossus and a couple others, we've made our mark on the X-Men.

Me? I'm just checking out the school, it's digs, and checking in on the Professor himself. We had some scares with all those telepathics missing for the last couple months. They still haven't been found, but whatever caused them to come up missing has apparently happened or done with. No one else has come up missing, so maybe just maybe there's time to pause for breath. Even if that doesn't mean we can let our guard down.

Emma's school is off the map, not a place I would have chosen to go to. Not considering the mess of things that happened when I went to school, a school like this one, when she was the head master. Of course, we didn't have teachers like Rogue either. "This place doesn't look a thing like the Massachusetts Academy. What's a guy gotta do to get a tour around these parts?"

Rogue : "Ah'm sure they were very confining and restrictive, if the rest of mah upbringing was any sorta indicator."

Something of a wry grin, around the now rather pockmarked pencil. I've been chewing on it for at least an hour I'd guess, ensuring that no one else is likely to ever want to use it. I do, at least, pull the writing utensil out of my mouth so I can continue the conversation, sticking it through my hair, above where the streaked tresses are gathered up into a ponytail. I'm also, simultaneously, beginning the series of movements that are somewhat automatic whenever someone else enters the room I'm in.

Wiping my hands off on the front of my jeans, and reaching for the pair of gloves that are never much distant. I'm pretty well covered by most folks standards, jeans and a ratty t-shirt I wasn't afraid of ruining anymore with grease and oil. But most folks can't kill with a touch, and so on the gloves are going anyway.

"An' the locals don't sound a thing like they did there, either. Eat all sortsa weird things that don't rightly belong anywhere but a garbage can..."

My preference, if it's not obvious, is not for France. I'd much rather be back in the good ol' U. S. of A, but this is where Gambit and Warpath brought me when they came to help me back into the fold, and this is where I've got at least some semblance of something to do. So here I've been, at least except for the fairly frequent ocean hops to go back.

"Well. Ah don't know. Depends on the quality of the tour ya'll are aimin' for, ah suppose. All ah got was 'This room's yours, here's the kitchen.' Then ah did a lot of wanderin' into coat closets an' spare bathrooms. How y'been, stranger?"

Alex : "So the yocals eat trash, the babes get road rash, and the hot chicks are all repairing their cars? I thought this was -France-, not the Twilight Zone." My jibing her is just a soft subtle nudge in her direction, don't most girls love France? "I suppose it could be worse, you could be in Moscow right now."

Wait. She might not quite know what the hell is going on in Russia, so that joke might not even be caught. I have no idea what she has been doing for a long time. This is one of those weird moments when I realize I'm being 'informative' like my dock of a brother. So I rush to cover the awkwardness with a trendy little joke.

"You went pokin through Emma's Closets? Good Lord woman, if the skeletons don't kill you, you might find a couple outfits worse than the White Corsets." Pause. Blink. Blink. "Not that Emma's cloths wouldn't look good on you...."

"I've been in Australia for the last three months, Rogue. I'm ready to havok blast myself in the face. If I hear one more 'mate' or 'g'day' or 'gee howdy yank'? I may have to strangle Scott, with my own hands. I need to get the hell back to the States. I'm going nuts. That's why I stopped by, I was looking for Scott, I have to get off this assignment he has me on. Scouting new bases in Australia, I'd rather let Warpath fast ball special me in the nuts or something."

Rogue : "Ah swear, half the 'delicacies' out here must've been thought up when they were on a shortage an' makin' do with the scraps."

That bloated liver or whatever the hell it's supposed to be? Who the hell came up with that one? Honestly. I want to know so I can somehow go back and sock them in the face right beforehand.

"That's true though. Then ah'd hate the food and be even colder."

At least the constant piling on of clothes makes it easier to keep not quite so much on the chilly side of things.

"Not on purpose, big 'n' tough as ah may be, even ah'm scared of wanderin' in there."

Far too much white, far too much skin. So maybe I'm not big, I'm fairly well on the long legged tall size, but big? No. Tough, yes. I've got that in spades.

"Alex, if ah tried wearin' Emma's clothes, not only am ah pretty certain they ain't gonna fit properly, but ah'd feel compulsively inclined t'lock mahself in a room, an no one would get t'benefit from my discomfort. Not t'say ah wouldn't look fantastic. We all know ah would."

I don't know how she can walk around in the getup she's wearing. Well. Not to say my own 'costume' leaves much to the imagination, but having that much skin exposed would send me into fits. I'd like to dress like...well. Not quite like that. But I can barely stand to have even the slightest bit exposed when I'm around other people. It's not safe.

"At least it was probably warm down there."

Pushing myself up to my feet completely, I scoot the pile of tools I'd been using over with one boot, to get them out of the way.

"That don't sound terribly brotherly like... an' if ah remember right ya'll blastin' yourself in the face ain't gonna do much but make a pretty light show. Ah can't really help ya with lookin' for your brother though. Ah ain't actually seen him in. Well. Not since ah left the team."

And that was almost two years ago. It's mostly just been the few that are in and out around here.

Alex : "Different worlds eat different things. While I was in Australia, they tried to make me eat ... cala.. carla...carmareeee? Squid. They tried to make me eat squid. It was slightly worse than the time I went to Kentucky and the Guthries gave me a plate of Chicken Gizzards." The face that I'm making tells the whole story from that point on.

After a moment, which is spent listening to Rogue explain her distaste for Emma's state of dress, I've picked the perfect spot to stand so that I can watch the work she's making on the... what the hell are those?

Forget that. Whatever they were, students clearly disassembled them with no hope of restoration. For the moment their only purpose is distracting me from watching Rogue herself. Which is a boon, since I'd be forced to start asking why she's dressing like that. Which leads down all the wrong roads of discussion.

"Warm," he responds sarcastically, "like the womb. Which is twenty degrees too warm, clinically, immediately following birth, and only close to the heat some people feel after death."

"Scooter is supposed to be here. He's not on the Aquatic base, because they think it's got security issues. Australian base has been nuked. So that basically leaves here or Westchester, and I know he didn't go back to New York. Heaven forbid we actually be in the country that needs our presence most. Nah, he's too responsible to endanger the Professor's neighbors (the ones who live a few million acres of land away). So he's here, and knowing my brother's inclinations? He's probably rooting around in Emma's closet. With Emma."

Rogue : "Calimari. Not nearly enough chicken in it for me, personally. An ah can tell from the way your face is screwin' up right now that y'didn't properly appreciate that particular dish. Ah'd say Mama Guthrie just didn't make it right... but there's a helluva lot more Guthries than there is Rogues. Ah'm keepin' mah mouth closed on that front."

We'll save me being pile driven by... Lord how many are there in that family... Sam, Josh, Paige... I know there's at least one more beyond that. Gloved fingers splayed against my hips, I'm joining Alex in staring at the pile of assorted parts strew across the area of the garage I'd claimed for my 'class.' There's definitely not a single one of them fit to be used. Just makes me even happier I opted to not bring in my Harley for them to play with. It's stayed mostly carefully covered up in the back, since I made them bring it with me on the Blackbird ride.

"They're mopeds. Were mopeds. Emma bought 'em for tinkerin' on. Either ah'm the worst teacher ever, or those kids're gonna make some mechanic very happy some day."

I'm more inclined to think the fault lay in my method of teaching this time though. But at least the machines were basically purchased to be destroyed. Then I don't feel quite so bad about their state. If nothing else, gives me something to do for hours.

"See, now that just sounds like home t'me. Only ah never quite thought of it as a womb. After spendin' all that time down in Mississippi, everywhere else ah've been is just seemin' cold in comparin'."

And where I was wearing clothes more my style. More Daisy Duke than conservative prude. My wardrobe might be too much on the fitted side for a prude though. I only ever go with my preferences when I'm positive there's not going to be anyone else around. His guess as to where Scott has vanished to? Makes me tilt my head back with a rather loud snort of laughter. Maybe a little too loud, for the echoing space of the garage. I don't seem to notice though.

"See, ah hadn't thought of that. An' it neatly explains where the hell Emma went, too."

Alex : "Oh, no. When I was in school you'd have been the perfect shop teacher." My best smile is flashed in her direction, letting her know I'm reaching a punch line. "After all. About the only way I'd have given a damn about 'mechanics' is if the teacher was as much a looker as you are."

When it comes to the Guthries there's one subject that I don't even go on. Politely letting the whole subject die with a little grin. Brows lifting and lowering in a way that just says I'm dieing to roll my eyes but you never know if one of those damn Guthrie kids is around to see it.

"Mississippi is hot?" It's an honest question, I've never been there, according to everything that I've read the only thing worth seeing in Mississippi is... well.. probably standing right here. Or in that Hank Williams Jr. video.

"Truth is. I don't know where Scott or Emma is, but I do know I'm tired of 'scouting' locations in Australia, when I'd rather be in the States. I feel damned guilty being over in Australia like it's some vacation, while people have sentinels watching over them every moment. I just wanted to tell him face to face that I'm going home or I'm going to Russia. Those are about the only two places where I'll be able to look myself in the mirror. Russia needs fighters, and the States need teachers."

Rogue : "Oh, ah'm sure ah would've been. But ah'd think if there's too much of the 'hot for teacher' goin' on, it'd be just as bad as me bein' a complete flop at the job."

I think I've just cursed myself to having Van Halen screaming through my brain for the rest of the evening. Of course, there's far worse things that find their way out up there sometimes. So of the options, I suppose I'll take Eddie. So maybe that's the problem. Too much teenager staring at my ass instead of at the lugnuts.

"Oh, hell. It's prob'ly twice as warm there right now as it is here. It'll be eighties by April, barrin' another freakish planetary move."

Moving a hand from one hip to hold up a pair of crossed fingers. The cold doesn't ever much effect me in frost bite sorts of ways, but I'm still prone to chattering teeth and goose bumps. And just plain not liking it.

"Well. Ah sure ain't gonna fault you feelin' that way. 'Cause ah jumped at Jimmy and Gambit showin' up on mah lawn an' goin' all Uncle Sam on me. Had enough 'me' time. Only it's just sorta turned into more'a that up here. Only colder. An' with slightly more company. Have y'talked to Jubilee? Ah know she's lookin' to get the school up and runnin'. Ah offered, but she didn' seem quite as thrilled when she found out ah wasn't on leave anymore."

Alex : "I..." my mouth works without actually saying anything for a moment, "...think I'll just keep my mouth shut right up. I am however calling you 'teach' from now on."

The grin that now crosses my face is matched only by the fact that I'm steadfastly refusing to look at her anymore, turning away resolutely to face the mess she left behind. She's got a bit of an ego, it's quaint, but also not something I want to feed. Egos are like gremlins, never feed them at night, never get them wet.

"Jubilee? No. I haven't, but last time I heard anything about Jubilee she was being considered for the team and then she 'ran away' again. First the shield mess, then just poof.. she disappeared. We thought maybe she was one of the abducted ones but there was no signs of struggle. Jean and Emma found no real sense of a fight at her place or anywhere around. We worried but figured she flaked."

"Wait. Whut? You're not on leave anymore?"

Rogue : There's an expectant look on my face, one brow arching up over slightly squinted green eyes, as I stand there watching him looking for his words. My face shifts from that into more of a smirk when he does finally finish though.

"There's worse nicknames t'get. Ah'll accept that one. Jus' means you're gonna have to let me show y'somethin' or other one of these days."

Since he's apparently decided to go back to scrutinizing the jumbled mess, I go back to part of what I had been doing before he graced me with his presence. Trying to sort the pieces into piles, so that it's easier for me to grab what I need later, in order to put them back together. At this point though, I've about decided it'd be a better use of my time to scrap these and try to make some monster machine.

"Really? Well. Ah've been out of the loop for the last couple'a years. Ah hadn't heard that much. Ah just know ah ran into her on one of mah trips t'New York, an' then again at Roger's campaign party a few weeks ago. All chatty about talkin' to Xavier, an' gettin' things organized an' rollin' again. What? Y'think ah'm livin' with Emma for mah sanity?"

Well. Technically I suppose I could be, but I haven't ever gone to Emma for that sort of help. I just don't trust her enough, or at least not enough to choose her of the options I have there. Besides, that's what the whole 'vacation' was for. To learn to do for myself, instead of depending on others to exorcise my demons.

"The gents parked the Bird on mah lawn, an' almost crushed the Impala ah was workin' on, ah might add, said they needed me back. So ah came. That was round about Thanksgivin'."

Alex : Her expectant look had been rewarded with a look that said there was something unsaid, but leaving it there, unsaid, was important for the moment. Something infinitely more important just flowed in to the gap. Flirting, harmlessly, would be able to be done any time.

"Wait. Stop. Hold on a second here. You're telling me that they brought you out of one hole, to sit in another hole... forgive me Emma if you're listening... is that what you're telling me?" You can hear my unspoken 'scoff' from here. "I don't buy it. In fact I can't believe a Southern Belle with your sort of class and dignity let 'em do that to you."

"Sounds like a bum deal to me."

"I mean. Golly. What part of the recruitment speech did you buy in too, Belle? Cause there's no X-Men Teacher position, that I know of." One eyebrow lifting higher than the other, before I push off and start to saddle up next to her. "Out of the sticks and on to the bench, that's what they would say if this was major league baseball."

"How's that working out for you?"

Rogue : "Ah suppose some sorta loyalty to 'home' oughta make me argue you callin' Caldecott a hole, but. Well. S'true."

Besides the fact that I hated the place when I did what growing up I did there, and I ran away from it when I was barely past fourteen. This last almost two years was really the only time I've ever spent there when I wasn't loathing it. But I really had more important things on, and in, my mind at the time. At least up until the end.

"Y'know me, just dying' to play Knight in Shinin' Armor whenever anyone makes me think ah might be wanted or needed. France an' the Team sounded much more excitin' at the time, than Fat Joe and mah job as a grease monkey. Only that ain't exactly been the case. Ah thought it was a matter of... ah dunno. Immediate conflict. Instead ah ended up beggin' Emma for somethin' t'do and wound up teachin'."

Glancing back up at him, as he moves over, shoving loose streaked hair back behind my eyes again with a hint of a shrug.

"So ah guess the answer would be 'not.' Much as ah hate to admit it. Probably why ah hop back an' forth between here an' New York so much."

Alex : For a second there, as she speaks, I'm looking at her like I'm a monkey with a math problem. I just can't figure out what she's saying. She got lured out of the sticks because of immediate conflict, okay that's the Apocalypse, understood. However all that activity has been dormant for weeks now. Whatever the kidnapping of the telepathics had been about it was very likely happening or had already happened. The leads, the trails, all of that had dried up long ago.

Whatever bad will happen, will happen when it's recovered from whatever just happened that we didn't see. When that happens we'll need to be ready.

"Your name is Rogue," speaking softly, "and mine is Havok, and neither of us are acting our parts. Let's get out of here and go somewhere we can do some good."

"Wait. Wait. Before you say yes, which I know you will, you're not getting in -my- blackbird dressed like that. Grease monkey clashes with the dark black leather interior. You need to wear something ..." As if I haven't already thought this all out, my hand goes to my chin to make a show of me 'thinking it over'. "Leather. X-Men style."

Rogue : "Not causin' nearly enough trouble, are we? Nah, ah suppose we ain't."

Because with a pair of names like that, it sure sounds like we should be out doing all sorts of nefarious deeds. So maybe in our case it's more apt to be heroic, or with such intentions, but still. There really isn't much evident time put into thought on this, at least not based off my facial features. There's a moment of red lips pursing, before I'm setting down all the parts I'd been gathering, then turning to face him again with a cluck of my tongue.

"Y'don't like the way ah look, sugah? Ah just might cry. It's a good thing for me ah happen to have a lot

Tapping a gloved finger against my chin, before I spin on a heel and head for inside, with a wave of my hand back at him.
of leather in mah closet. But ah think ah know just the thing you're meanin'."

"Hope there's room in your bird for mah bike. Cause it's likely the only baby ah'm ever gonna have."

Rogue : Old Friends Pay a Visit

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 06:53:05 GMT

James : *There were some things that you just couldn't get used to. One of those things was the idea that a rogue group of mutants would still dare operate within the United States. How they did it was a combination of things. SHIELD didn't want to have open warfare on it's hands. Not yet. General Fury still had enough enfluence to see to that. And even Hill wasn't that stupid. Still.

There was that understanding that the X-Men would police a lot of the mutant 'problem' on their own. And in doing so, they would operate, as they always had, somewhat outside of the law. Like owning one of the most high-tech stealth aircraft on the planet. The Blackbird wasn't your daddy's Pipper Cub. It was VTOL capable, with fully intergrated steath and ECMs. It also had comfortable travel space for a large team. A large team that the X-Men didn't have any more. That was something that James was trying to fix though. Not with fliers and mass rallies to recruit, but with selective new faces.

And finding the lost sheep to see if they could be brought back into the fold.

If he didn't crush the 80's Malibu parked to the side of the empty lot he was setting the Blackbird down in. Delicate hands he had when he wanted them. And a deft enough touch. But, guiding this craft in always made him a touch skittish. Compaired to pilots like Scott, Jean, or even Logan, who seemed to be good at everything, he was a rank amature. With meant he landed as softly as a Marine Harrier pilot. Cycling the engines down he unstrapped and walked from the plane. This far in the South, the giant of a man was still out of his element. Not in the bit of warmth that still lingered, but in the fact that his strongly native features stood out. He didn't want to draw more attention to himself than he needed too.

There was a girl he was in Mississippi to see. And there was one guy with him he gave a warning over his shoulder to.*

"No making eyes at her Remy. This is a social call, but not that kind of social."

*So, a 7 foot Apache in jeans and his 'My Heroes Killed Custer" teeshirt was approaching the door of the small rental home, trying to look like he belonged here. He even managed a smile as he tapped lightly on Rogue's door*

Remy : "Every social call be dat kind of call, mon ami. " Murmured while a finger trip brushes a cigarette, regardless of looks that might be coming my way. Sunglasses pulled from my coat, and slipped over the devils own eyes.

"Sides, ya know it in de voice every bit much as it in de eyes, eh homme?"

"But mebbe I behave. Mebbe. If ya let me pick de music on de ride back home. An smoke in de Bird. Ya, sure, Scottie say no smokin on de plane, but ya ask me dat just a load of crap.."

"Dis de River Rat wit' de white stripe we after, oiu?"

No, I never asked until now. All I'd had to hear was the word 'X-woman' to get me on the jet with James.

Rogue : It’s been a while, probably too long in a strictly speaking sort of way. But I’d been in no fit state after my last outing with the team to continue on, not without me being worried I was going to go bonkers, anyway. All the stray thoughts, impulses, feelings. I hate it, but it’s part and parcel, and it’s just easier for me to right my brain off by myself. Or at least, I’d figured that it would be the best way, short of going back a’begging to Charles.

Can’t depend on him to do it for me everytime though. Not fair to him, or me, and I won’t learn anything that way.

The knock on the door sets me to pulling more clothes on. No not like that, I’m perfectly decent home alone. Just not decently safe to be around anyone else. Shoving my arms through the long sleeved button-up, I start flipping the deadbolt even as I’m reaching for the pair of gloves on the beat up old table beside the door. Those are still being pulled on even as I open the door the rest of the way.

“Well. Ah wasn’t expecting visitors, especially not you lot. Not to say you’re not welcome, ‘course. How ya been? Come in!”

Stepping out the way so they can, if they want anyway. It’s nothing fancy. The furniture came with the place, which speaks for the low grade quality of it, but it’s serviceable and I really spend more time tinkering around in the back than I do lounging around in here anyway.

James : "I know I know. Just keep the sweet nothings to a minimum. I'd hate to see her start smoking." *Yes, a reference to the down side to her powers. Rolling his eyes and giving a slight shake of his head.*

"Half the trip and roll down the windows."
*Nodding in response. Remy was along because of one of his few sceintific theories. That the X-Women all possessed a secondary mutation involving beauty and physical build.

There was a warm grin on James' face, something most people would have found odd. But, for one of the family as it were, it was readily. For the lady that had put it on the line, just like he had, in the Savage Lands and taken the beatings to prove it, it would always be there.

Ducking a bit to clear under the door frame he entered. Others he might even have hugged or shaken hands with. But, he knew Rogue wasn't always comfortable with such displays. And after her split from the team, and he knew why she had left, he wanted to gauge her reactions and not push bounderies just yet. Still, giving the furnature a careful eye eh stood near what passed for a sturdy chair and waited for Remy to get in.*

"Well, you didn't punch me in the nose or laugh, so I'll take that as a good sign. Good is how I'm doing. Especially seeing an old friend."

Gambit : "If dat's all I get.. dat's all I get."

I wait on James, watching their greeting, then slip in after. Letting the belt holding the trench closed, hiding the armor, fall open so I'm not quite so cramped. Then dropping glasses back into my coat, leaving cigarette hanging from between my lips. To eye Rogue up and down with a grin. Least she didn't try an confiscate my smoke yet. Then, most don't. Even Emma chilled about me smoking around her. That or she just makes me think I be smoking around her, when in reality... Damn telepaths.

"Now ya see james, ya didn't tell me when we left dat when we was going t'see an ol' X-woman, ya left out de part of de fact dat it was de mos' beautiful of de X-woman."

Lips quirking into a smirk.

"Even if she a River Rat. Rogue." Nod of my head.

Rogue : “Ah haven’t heard any rumors down this way of anything ah should be punching you in the nose for. And ah’m sorry but ya’ll haven’t said anything particularly funny just yet. Ah’ll let you continue takin’ it as whatever sorta sign ya like though, Proudstar.”

Really don’t care that much about the smoking. Not like it’s my place permanently. And it’s not like I can’t open a window afterwards to air it out.

“It is nice to see ya, though. Ah’ve started to kinda miss the familiar sorts of friendly faces.”

Not that many of them here, anymore. But I didn’t come back to my first ‘home’ to find old friends. I came back to find me.

“If that was meant to rile me, Cajun, it ain’t gonna work. ‘specially not after you’ve gone and pointed out one of my prestigious sort of titles and all.”

Nudging the door back closed again, I set to adjusting the fingers on my gloves, while I look between the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

“So. Not that ah’m not a-flutter at seeing the pair of ya, but it is a surprise. Somethin’ the matter?”

James : "General principal would be enough considering my company." *A thumb jabbed toward Remy. He watched the play between the pair of them. She smelled faintly of motor oil and burnt welding rods. She was a tinkerer of things. Took to them because they didn't carry memories.*

"We're always about and close to hand for old friends and family." *A small sigh and a bit of a frown.* "Just harder to find sometimes than we once were."

*James eased into the chair gingerly and rested his elbows on his knees. hands folded, he looked her right in the eye. He was always direct and serious. Almost always, he'd learned to losen up a bit in the last year or two. Even blush and color less around women. Still it didn't take the stoic Apache warrior face away from him.*

"No more than normal. Came down to see how you were doing." *A pause as he glanced at Gambit and then back to her as if considering* "Things are stirring about again and I wanted to make sure you were ok, and had a heads up. We've gone toe-to-toe with one of the Horsemen in the past few weeks, and a number of the stronger telepaths have gone missing in that same time period. Some other mutants too."
*The look he gave held a world of unspoken warnings, concerns and apprihension. James looked out for the team first and formost. Any of them, active or not, were his concern before his own safety or the 'mission'. Rogue was part of the team. She'd bled in the same battles as he had. And, he knew with her abilities, she could be a target.*

Gambit : "Ahh, River Rat. Confusin titles for lables, eh?" Shaking my head a little and smirking back at her. "See, de difference be dat titles? Dey be good t'ings. Like Sir, Lady, Lord, Cajun... de labels, dey be for bad things.. Screw up, bed wetter, river rat. I know dat be a bit much to follow, but I can repeat it if ya be needing me to?"

Grin never leaving my face. See, that's the great part of being me. Proudstar's the serious one. He's the leader, and all of that jazz. I'm just a thief who gets sent on suicide recon missions.

"Not a-flutter, chere? Den clearly, I do somet'ing wrong. Ahh. Dat's right.." Winking, and pulling a candy bar, Hershey's with Almonds, from his coat - the outer pockets, so it wasn't all melty, proffering it with a flourish. "Mebbe dis help?"

While James talk? I be quiet, and find a piece of wall to lean up against, ashing my cigarette the empty pack it came out of... and flashing James an innocent smile.

"I be behaving? See? No need t'threaten me wit' DR sessions wit' Summers."

Rogue : “Ah’d be punchin’ him then, not you. But you’re right. General principal. Ah’m just behavin’ myself on account of you two bein’ guests and all.”

Grinning, I lean back against my little side table. Its creak might be a little disturbing if I didn’t already know what shape the thing was in, and how it makes pretty close to that same sound no matter what I throw on it. Boxes, jacket, whatever.

“Ah meant the most beautiful of the X-Ladies part, Gambit. Ah was choosin’ to ignore the labelin’ portion. Ya just had to go and say it again though, didn’t ya?”

Roll of my green eyes, doesn’t keep me from snagging the chocolate bar from him though. My favorite kind. Don’t much care for the ones with a lot of stuff in them. The two main flavors are good enough for me.

“Could probably find worse things to threaten him with than that, hmm Proudstar?”

What he says though, about what’s been going on, what they’ve been up against and facing though, turns that smile right upside down into a frown, and I pause in the unwrapping of the candybar I’d already started on.

“What? Any of us gone scarce?”

Us meaning the X-Men specific like but. It’s not good no matter which way you try to fix it up, anything with Apocalypse is nothing good at all.

James : "And you know I can take it better than most though." *It's still a grin as he watched the two of them play out their interaction. Remy was a flirt and so was Rogue. One out of habit, the other, he thought at times, out of defense of herself. Not that Jimmy claimed to know a thing about women, or how the mind works. He just knew it had to be tough with her powers.*

"You could I guess."

*nodding, she's shifted tone and demeanor right off.* "One of Moira's bunch was the one that attacked as in Australia. Another was in Mandripor. Muir got melted off the map by Wisdom gone bad. But, so far, what's left of the team hasn't gone missing yet. I'm trying to keep an eye on Jean and Emma as much as I can."

*Yes, glorified body guard to a pair of women that could melt his brain faster than he could sneeze.*

Remy : "Course I did. What's life if ya ain't living it dangerously, Rogue?" Eying her gloved hands with a bit of a longer look then probably necessary, before I take another drag off my cigarette, and slip off the wall, moving back towards the door.

"Gonna check on de ride, an make sure we ain' got no friends comin while you two have y'selves de serious talk."

Deck of cards already in my hand as I walk for the door, shuffling.

Rogue : “That’s very true, ya can. Ah suppose if ah’m going to sucker punch someone, it may’s well be the one that ain’t gonna drop like a sack of potatoes when ah do it.”

At least it’s not anyone I know in a first hand sort of way. Small things to be thankful for, because sometimes that’s going to be all that you get. So I just run with it.

“Jean and Emma? You poor man. What did ya do to upset Summers enough to get landed with that duty?”

Small attempts at humor from me, even with the situation being verbally unfolded for me.

“Ah’m sorry to hear, nonetheless though. No one hurt bad in Australia?”

We’re a tough lot, but you know, it still happens more often than we’d all like. Neither James or I were in any decent sort of shape after the last showdown with Apocalypse. He looks like he’s recovered, and I’ve done so much as I can, but the more lasting damage done there was a mental sort of thing.

“Pretty borin’, I suppose, Gambit.”

Waving as he makes his way on out, before crossing the room to sit down on the cushion next to James.

“Fwoosh. Well. Ya know James. If ya’ll need me ah’m here. And ah think ya know ah can’t rightly sit down here in good conscious while that sorta things are a-goin’ on. “

James : "Scratched the paint on the Blackbird I guess. Jean asked for the help since she and Logan got back. Emma.."*He shrugged, hands splayed out in a guesture of helplessness.* "I don't know. I just do it."

"Kid was under when it was over. Still in a comma. Everyone else was fine after some rest."

*A lift of the chin acknowleges Gambit heading out before shifting his focus back again, watching her cross over. His tone shifted. A bit softer, no humor and no dread.*

"I don't want to ask. To beg to get you back just when things are going bad. Not and make you feel like you have to."*Meeting those green eyes for a long couple of heart beats. Like he was weighing her on a set of scales. The danger she'd be in as a friend versus his need to beef up the team.*
"You have to want it. You have to want to fight. Because we both know, the hard way, that a scrap like this one. It take iron in the spin and some serious sand to stand up to it. It can't be half way or maybe."

*He stopped, shook his head and chuckled before murmuring.* "Forge was right. We suck at recruiting speeches."

Rogue : “Aw, that thing was always his baby. No wonder.”

I likely wouldn’t be too happy if someone demolished any of my projects. But I can pretty well fix most things done to any of the assorted vehicles I’ve collected lately. My lawn would probably look like a stereotypical white trash haven if I didn’t have a garage, and a shop I can go to bang on things to my little heart’s content.

“Ya don’t wanna ask? That mean ya’ll are gonna make me beg? Now that ain’t very gentlemanly. I’d say ya oughta ask a Southern gentleman to show ya some manners, James, but the only other Southerner we got that I know of? He ain’t a gentleman.”

I’ve shifted back into the teasing again, making my tone light, the twang in my voice almost lilting while I poke fun at my old friend. But then I go back to a more serious me, reaching over to pat his knee before I return my hands to my lap again.

“Think ah know what you’re meanin’ though. Ah do. And ah don’t blame ya, never any good seeing our friends beatin’ around, is it? But ah would feel something sorta terrible if it happened when ah wasn’t there, and ah shoulda been James. Came down here to straight myself out.”

Tapping a gloved finger against my temple.

“It wasn’t ‘cause ah didn’t want to be with ya’ll anymore. Not at all. It was ‘cause ah was terrified ah’d be a liability, or get someone else hurt with the way my brain was. But. Forge was right, sugar. Don’t use that speech on anyone else if ya actually want them to sign on.”

James : *Hed dropping as he elbows go to his knees again. He shakes his head a little before looking over at her. And because of the angle, up at her.*

"Rogue, I'd bleed before anyone on the team. I hate asking them to do what we do because I know what can happen. I've lost enough family not to want it to happen to them. But I will pretend to be a Southern Gentleman if it will help. Or a good Apache man and ask the women to fight along side the men when things are hard enough."

*A little chuckle. A touch of mirth at something like this.* "Sometimes we all need that I guess. A reminder we suck at something. Like asking for help from a friend?"

*That pause again* "Rogue, I could use your help."

Rogue : The pat’s for his shoulder, this time.

“Ah know ya would. We all do. And some of us, well. Ah think you and me can take a little more punishin’ then some of the others. Ah know ah’d rather have it be me takin’ it for that exact reason, rather than someone else. Besides, ya’ll have to deal with me bein’ a stubborn woman and comin’ at this point, whether ya really want it or not.”

They are my family. Aunt Carrie and my Dad aren’t here anymore, lord knows where they’ve gone off to. I didn’t put that much work into trying to find them past the first few weeks I was down here. Enough to learn they’d been gone for a bit, then I’d thrown myself into trying to shuffle my mind back to where it should be, and working at the garage.

“Promise ah won’t lord it over your head too much, James. Ah’m terrible at word searches if it makes ya feel any better. But sugar? You’re welcome to all the help ah can muster up. Which, hopefully, is a considerable amount more than ah could a year or so ago. Just give me the when. Ah’m on a monthly rent for this heap, and their feelings aren’t going to be too hurt if ah call them at the garage and tell ‘em ah won’t be in in the mornin’.”

James : "Wait till you see what they've done with the team now." *Meaning put him in charge of one squad full time. Not just because they were short handed or it was a thrown together team while the rest couldn't get there. He was the field leader most likely to be tapped for action it seemed like. Logan and Scott were the only others, and they were so tied up with 'big picture' concerns that he normally got the grunt work. Which was fine by him.

Jimmy grinned over at her, one of his monsterous hands reaching over to give her shoulder a squeeze. Harder than he would have for most, but still light for someone of her considerable constitution. As his hand fell back away he chuckled a little, a deep rumbling sound*
"I appriciate that. I'm glad to have you back. Promise you this, I won't quit if you don't." *It was a bit of a tease on the hard headed part, but serious so. His offer of support and his word that if she started down this road, he'd back her up all the way to those famous gates.*

"I'll get you a comm unit and some other things together and then I'm treating you to dinner. One things the same between my home and the South. You can't visit family or friends unless you feed them. It's down right rude."

Rogue : “Ah’m sure they’re all wonderful things, whatever it is exactly that’s been done. Do ah have to tell ya not to be so hard on yourself, or should ah save that one for later? Time to prep up a speech all proper and fancy like, and all.”

The grin’s back, at the friendly squeeze of the shoulder. We don’t need no who’s got the firmest handshake sort of competition between the two of us, I think we know where we stand on the front.

“Then you’re gonna be stuck in this a good long time, James. Ah don’t mean to quit again anytime soon. And ah’m already glad to be back and ah haven’t even gone anywhere yet. It’s kinda lonesome without all the noise and bantering down here. Can’t rightly fire off at myself. At least not without getting more looks than ah already do.”

Pushing myself up off the sofa, I make the motion of rubbing my hands together, like I’m getting ready for some big sort of undertaking. Which it really isn’t going to be. I’m not that much of a packrat.

“Sounds lovely. See? We don’t need to teach ya Southern manners after all. Dinner and gadgets. What more can a girl ask for? Well. Suppose ah better start packin’ then. There room for me, a few boxes ‘n’ my bike in that jet? “

James : "Long and fancy? So that we both feel better about it when your done?" *That he'd never, ever be satisfied with what he did, that he needed to be better was something people would learn in time around James. The better he was, the easier time his team would have. The safer he could keep them. That was the goal.

A little grin as he pushed himself to his feet.* "What won't fit on the inside, we'll ductape to the wings. Just to make Scott happy to see us."

*At some point he'd get with Scott and explain why he'd gone out without direction to recruit an old team mate. Just one more fight he'd go through, if Scott even disagreed which he didn't think he would.*

Tabitha Smith : New Hotness Goes Recruiting

Fri, 21 Sep 2007 08:01:53 GMT

Julian : Julian lifted the electronic scanner in his hands and gave it a healthy shake. The thing reminded him of a graphing calculator, and that just evoked a whole lot of unpleasant memories. After the 'Pestilence' incident in Australia, he'd decided that it would be good to get moving on the mission Forge had given he and Tabby; one never knew when some 'veteran' X-Men were going to get blown up by a dude on a horse. If television taught nothing else, it taught that ressurrection of an aging franchise came via a younger, hotter, edgier ensemble.

"See anything, Tab?" he asked his blonde obsession-by-way-of-teammate, not bothering to look up from the scrambled screen of the reader. "Aside from the graffiti and human refuse," he clarified, not even acknowledging the hobo who was crouched next to a trash can a few meters away. They had teleported from the aquatic base to New York, where it seemed their target led quite the shady life. At the moment, they were standing on a street corner of one of the - bluntly put - shittier parts of the city. The 'axis' of a scatterplot printout from the Cerebro unit ran along the line they were scouting out, but so far, neither they nor the hand-held unit had picked up anything.

Julian suspected technical failure, as operator's error was out of the question. "I don't think this thing is working," he mumbled, rotating the screen upside down, and fiddling with the buttons. At the moment, it was just scrawling lines and static.

"So...Tigress. Do you think that's pronounced like 'and the Euphrates', or like Tigger, of Whinnie the Pooh fame?" It would have to be a question they asked if they ever found the chick.

Tigress : Since being gored by the Rhino, the myth of the Tigress seems to have grown. I survived having the rhino's horn thrust through my abdomen. I have not a scar left.

The slums I call my home. A rough area of town. It's easy for an outsider to get mugged here. There is no official red light district, there are just districts the police choose not to patrol. I work in one of those districts. My pimp protects me, even though I protect myself just fine. I make a decent living. Enough to afford my apartment and utilities. Enough to buy food. Enough to watch basic cable.

Tonight I'm a working girl. Leaning against a street lamp. Waiting for any cars to pass by. It's been a slow night. Not like the weekends where a lot of people like to 'party'.

Creed. He could not be more uncaring. But even where I came from he did not pay much attention to me. Only making a living and doing what he does.

Tabby : “I see buildings! And pavement, and you, and me, and that scruffy guy over…”

I’ve got my hat tugged down over my hair, and a little extra makeup on. I don’t normally wear much, but my skin’s a little too crackly crinkly for my taste still, even after being looked after in France. And my hair’s not quite the gleaming, glistening blonde that it normally is. Hence the cap.

“Oh, like in the way of who we’re supposed to be looking for? Not yet no.”

Turning the datapad Forge had given to Julian the other day over in my hands, I’m squinting down at the picture that it shows. I think I could probably recognize her if I saw her.

“Isn’t that thing workin’? Um. I’d think more the first, though I do love me some Tigger. Could always say ‘Hi! I’m Tabitha, this is Julian, what’s your name?”

Giving it a little shake, so I don’t feel left out (what with him playing with his like an etch-a-sketch), I peer out onto the street again.

“Oh. Wait. Hey, lookit her!”

Julian : "It's a peice of junk," he replied, shaking the scanner again. "You ever notice that look Forge gets in his eyes sometimes? The one that's all...wild-haired mad-scientist? It's hilarious, but I'm not sure we're really safe in that underwater base. I swear I felt drops of water hitting my shoulder in the rec room yesterday."

Holding the unit out a ways, he then pulled it back towards his chest, as if he was trying to tune the antennae on a television. Then he raised an eyebrow, wrinkling his nose. "I wonder if this thing is leaking radiation."

Julian scoffed at her request for him to look, and merely rolled his eyes. "Like I told you earlier, I don't think Britney Spears would be caught dead in this part of town. She might be found dead...she's trashy, yeah. She's not this trashy, though."

Then the squiggled lines and distortions on the screen abruptly smoothed out, and a single, solid 'ping' was showing. "Hm. It's working again," he declared, finally glancing up. "Maybe it's her. She looks like the picture. Don't use our real names, though - she might be some psycho with one of those fucking Stark psion detectors and a steak knife."

He led the pair closer slowly, and slid the scanner into the pocket of his field jacket. "Hey. You Tigress?" he asked, as if he was asking to bum a cigarette.

Tigress : I heard them. They have a device on them, I can smell it. I can smell them too. The blonde smells like Denny's omelettes and bubblegum. The other guy smells.... well. Like a guy.

I get up from my perch by the lightpost and look them both up and down. It's been a while since I've done a couple. I bet it's his idea. He seems like the sort.

He knows my name.

"I usually don't do threesomes." I eye them both seriously.

"100 dollars for both of you." I place a hand on my hips. The other just dangles. They'd be able to tell I was a mutant just by looking at my nails. They were metal claws. Artifcial, yes. But still metal.

Tabby : “Are you sure it wasn’t me flicking my drink at you…”

Supremely innocent look while I follow after him, tucking the data pad into my own jacket. So maybe I wasn’t really, but it is entirely possible that that is the exact sort of thing I might have been up to.

“Well, if it is maybe we’ll get extra mutations! Then we’d be even cooler kids than we already are. Tsk. So negative Ju…Hellion…”

Tigress gets a supremely friendly, cheerful smile. And a wave.

“Oooh…I like your nails. They’re definitely shiney. 100 bucks for what?”

Julian : Julian's eyes widened slightly at Tigress, and then he chuckled. Oh. Man. Forge was going to get his ass kicked later.

"Wow, what a coincidence. Neither do we. Well," he said, glancing over to Tabby and winking, "I guess I should only speak for myself, shouldn't I." Turning his head back to the woman at the lamp post, he smirked. "More importantly? I wouldn't pay for something I could get for free," he replied. It wasn't that he didn't have cash - his father and mother virtually payed him to stay away from them and the family business. It was just that he didn't have to really work hard at finding female companionship. Bouncy waifs were a dime a dozen, and they seemed to be programmed with a weakness for charisma (read: arrogance) and charm (read: money).

"We've actually got a completely different sort of business to talk to you - and your 'shiny nails' - about."

Julian had planned his little speech, even practiced it once or twice. He was going to open by asking her what she did for a living, and how being a mutant impacted her life. That was all shot to hell now, though, wasn't it? It looked like he was just going to have to improvise.

"So you're looking better from the last time I saw you," he said to her. "Sans the giant rhino horn. I guess that sort of thing doesn't really slow you down much, does it?" He was still feeling off his game from the Pestilence attack, though he would never admit it, and others had been more seriously injured than he. He hadn't been gored straight through by a giant horn though, as she had.

"All by yourself, or do you run with a pack?" he wanted to see how she would react; his comments weren't overtly insulting, but they were tending to stray in that direction.

Tigress : Tabby gets an unimpressed look.

"Look, I don't have time to fuck around. 100 bucks for both of you. Or 50 bucks per trick. Head, half 'n half, everything."

I give sigh, getting annoyed at the girl.

Then I eye the man and his big mouth. Quite an annoying brat, he was.

"If you would like to talk to my nails, they prefer to end the conversation - not start one." I growl.

"I have a man who protects me." I suppose that would be my pimp. Creed had since disappeared. Likely to do his thing.

"The Rhino was annoying me." I shrug. I lost against him. But I survived. Life goes on.

"You might get it for free wherever you come from, but when it comes to me. No scratch - no snatch." Then I glance to the blonde.

"So do you guys want to party or not? If not, beat off on your own time." I have other things to do than be bothered by these two.

Tabby : “Rhino hor… you two met be…oh wait. I was there, too!”

Now I’m leaning forwards, hands on my hips to look even a little bit closer at the other blonde.

“Yes! I remember now. You’re still up and spunky and kicking after that? Wow, you’re amazing!”

That isn’t delivered with any sarcasm at all. I’m apparently completely genuine in my approval.

“No sn…Oh! Haha. Oh, no. I don’t do girls. Totally not what we’re here for. Not that kind of party. If you enjoy that sort of thing like with Rhino though, short the impaling that is… “

Waving a hand with a little chortle of laugher, as I stand back up straight again.

“Having a dude who protects you? Not nearly as good as having a team of buddies who watch your back while you watch theirs. Trust me.”

Julian : Julian eyed Tabby sideways, listening to her. She was a little oblivious, but certainly positive. A perfect good cop.

"It seems like that's all you have time for," he retorted, "but we're. Not. Interested. Like I already said, we're here to offer you something. An opportunity."

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah yeah yeah, you've got a 'scary' schtick going, I get it. I saw you fighting Rhino, remember? You're fiesty, and that will get you places, to be sure. Like the underside of a giant robot's foot...or maybe a SHIELD detention center. Hell, the way you regenerate, it will probably be one and then the other, but either way, the only thing that's going to be scary is how it ends. Your man protects you? Right. Does he have even bigger claws than yours? Giant crab pincers, maybe?"

He wanted to fold his arms aggressively, but resisted the urge, leaving his hands open in case things went south.

"What do you do when you're not out plying the trade? Vigilantism? People are watching, chica. Fuck, they're watching from the goddamn sky. The people running those sattelites aren't going to be interested in your 'tricks' either, they're interested in killing you. Wiping all of us out."

"We work with a group that really doesn't want that to happen - people willing to do what it takes, and to whom it takes, to make sure it doesn't, in fact. We think you'd make a good addition."

'We' do? Yes, we do. Reference point: claws + regeneration + nasty attitude = Forge's ideal...well, lets not go there.

Tigress : Seems they aren't interested in sex. Which to me, means one other thing.

I'm still unimpressed.

"If they, whoever the fuck are watching.... are watching me from the sky. Why don't they send their little army men to shoot me up?" I quirk.

"I live in the slummiest area of New York City. I'm a working girl. I need to pay the rent and afford my meals. I'm not interested in joining your religion."

I've dealt with their types before. Trying to save my soul. Evanglists. The like.

But when he says vigilantism, I quirk.

"I'm not a vigilante. I just protect the other girls from abusive clients. What do you do, besides try to sucker the poor and destitute into your religion?"

Tabby : “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have to worry about rent and meal tickets! Room and board? Totally included.”

I happen to like living Under Da Sea better than in my dorm room at Arcadia. Even if the latter means much more parties, it still isn’t quite the same thing as what goes on with my new crew. Well. Not really new. But still.

“Probably because they’ve got bigger fishies they’re worried about for the mo’.”

It isn’t meant as an insult. It’s probably true. Probably the only reason no one came a-flyin’ down to pick me up before now. Well. Now I have that handy, dandy cloaking getup, too. Helps!

“Um. Actually that is sorta the definition of vigilantism. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Well. According to me. Some folks don’t agree but they’re kinda rude. Religion? Oh I don’t think so!”

Julian : "Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die," he quoted in return, realizing immediately that it was a mistake. She wouldn't get the reference, and it might twist her view even further.

"The reason you haven't been targeted yet is because you're not as bad-ass as you think. Don't get me wrong, you're tough as those nails, and I'm sure you rip into 'abusive clients' like a t-bone steak. Like Boomer said, there are bigger fish for them to fry...for now. Eventually, though, the Powers that Be are going to run out of large targets and start picking off the smaller ones. Like you. Like us. One day, you're going to tear a new asshole out of someone who has clout."

He glanced away, gesturing with one hand to emphasize his point. "How could you tell that the guy with the fetish for strangling hookers was actually a judge? You can tell when he makes a few calls, and suddenly there are cops and SWAT busting down your door. You can tell when a mutant-hunting killer robot lands outside your building, sweeps for your unique energy signature, and then starts unloading with its death rays. Seriously. I'm not making this shit up. It's real, and it's only a matter of time."

Julian shook his head. "We're not Jesus freaks. We're not interested in saving your soul - if you have one. We're interested in saving your life, and the lives of other mutants. The only way things are going to get better for us - for all of us - is if we fight for it."

"I can't really say I've ever lived a life like yours, but I know what its like to want to protect something. Today its mutants. Tomorrow, though, when they're all gone? Who's going to be next on the chopping block? Maybe the 'unsavory' elements of society. The dregs, the drunks, the homeless..."

It was a stretch, but this whole pitch was one giant stretch.

Tigress : I might be able to save myself. But he has a point. Eventually the government will run out of targets and I'll be on the list. Eventually.

I'll consider it, certainly. They want me for their group. Other mutants. I could smell it on them. It was all over them both. Some kind of paramilitary group, right?

I'll step closer. Sniffing.

"If it means free room and board. Free hot meals. And no questions asked..."

I cross my arms.

"Then yes, I'll go with you. But you." I point a finger at Julian.

"Get to break the news to my pimp."

Tabby : “No questions asked! I showed up on the doorstep when I was eleven and they didn’t turn me away.”

Not that they would have wanted to. I was still awful cute when I was little. Just. Not as curvy, and quite a bit more dirty smeared. At the time at least. Not that it’s even really the same thing but it’s what I’ve got to throw in for the conversation!

“Aww, him? Can I help at least?”

There’s a little bounce up on my toes. I could make a pretty little explosion and scare him straight out of trying to bug her anymore…

“Food, room, trips around the world! We’ve been to Australia and France in the last forty-eight hours alone.”

So maybe that’s more exciting to me than it might be to her. But whatever.

Julian : Julian managed to keep the relief off his face, and merely nodded. He didn't think she was going to bite - at least not in the metaphoric sense. If he'd failed his first real mission? It would be a disgrace he would never be able to live down.

"The accomodations aren't...what youre probably used to, but they will definitely meet your needs." Surprise, you're going to be living under the ocean, hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

When she pointed at him, Keller's eyes narrowed, and a wolfish grin appeared on his face. A bluish field of energy flowed over his body like a stream of water, encasing him in a bulky exoskeleton and making the otherwise short and scrawny-looking young man a lot taller and intimidating. Lifting his arm, Julian uncurled the 'fingers' of his energy 'fist'; as he flexed them, they elongated slightly, sharpening to look just like Tigress'.

"Oh I'd be more than happy to have a chat with him," he said menacingly. "I'm sure he'll come to see it's for the greater good."

Grace Mosley : Talk Like a Pirate Day Party!

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 06:54:21 GMT

Grace : The last benefit I’d heard of was an official Thunderbolts sponsored event. One that I couldn’t even hardly afford the ticket price for, beyond the fact that I’m simply not that comfortable in that sort of setting to begin with. It wasn’t a hard choice to skip it. I think I spent the night out patrolling instead. It probably was a more productive use of my time. This one, well. This one is different.

Mind, I never say no to helping out a charity, but the one this particular event will be benefiting is particularly near and dear to my own heart. I do, after all, spend usually four to five afternoons a week with the children whose idea it was. They may not be up late enough on this specific school night to attend, but we’ll just think of them here in spirit. The ballroom of the hotel is decorated to the nines (at least the nines by elementary school children standards). Not to put it down, it is actually spectacularly well done. My favorite is the prow of a ship that was built to look like it was coming out of the back wall, punch and party favors arranged on rickety (looking only!, they really aren’t) trestle tables around it, palm trees and treasure chests scattered around the floor.

I wish they could all have been here, too. Lately I’m much more comfortable around little kids than I am people my own age (it’s sad, I know, I don’t need to be told). But I’d made a promise. I’d put on a grown up fundraising party on their behalf, if they raised half the goal towards their arts and music program in other ways. They more than met their end of the deal, now I’m stuck holding up mine. Honestly. I don’t mind though, and the ticket price was hardly a staggering figure. I’m hoping it’ll be entertaining.

There’s even an appropriately clad costumed mini-orchestra to the side, playing music I can’t help but hum along to. We did listen to the Pirates of the Carribbean score the entire time we were building the decorations, and setting them up. They’re pretty well jammed into my brain. My own getup gets a little adjusting tug. I feel… more exposed than I truly like to be, but the costume does look good on me.

Mock : Okay, so the expensive part of Mockingbird's costume, she wore on a nearly daily basis. The black corset was pretty standard faire, though usually she didn't bother with the black and red skirt, or a calf length captain's jacket left gaping. Bit of booty (the pirate type!), sword on her hip, musket slung lower on her other, she swaggers in with her hat at a jaunty angle and pauses long enough in her humming to let the song the band was playing start let the band catch up with her, and then picking it up naturally.

General rule--any holiday that let you dress up? Was a good holiday. Though, iMockingbird? Will pretty much dress up for any holiday whatsoever. Just helped that this one had been started by humorist.

And then there was the charity aspect. So? She was good to go. Hips swaying to the music, she trails her fingertips along the rickety tables, admiring the scenery and slowly making her way across the room.

Why?

"Well shiver my timbers, you t' buxom beauty throwin' this party? My, that's the finest pirate booty I've ever laid eyes on."

Karla : "Pirates. How cute."

Somehow, that just didn't sound like such a good thing, in the tone and way that she said it. Pirate garb? Hardly. Instead it was the skin tight white and gold Moonstone costume. Made more attention grabbing by the way light always just seemed to hit her in such a way that caused her hair to sparkle like gold, or for her costume to seem extra reflective. All of it was a touch of her own manipulation of course, just a shade of the merest touch of light about her own personage.

Moonstone walked through the crowd like someone who was extremely comfortable at these places, but given the fact she'd made nearly as much as a practicing Psychiatrist before becoming associated with the T-Bolts, and her youth, well. Being around the trappings of wealth was not in the least new to Dr. Karla Sofen. Calm confident strides the exuded authority, her feet not even clacking upon the floor as she walked, instead stopping an inch short of the floor each time. Making the tall 5'11" woman seem just that little bit taller in the process.

Grace : There are other people here, of course. I figure most of them are faculty or otherwise supporters of the school (at least I know the ones I recognize are). Or maybe people that just wanted to see some ‘celebrities.’ Not that there were many of those here. I. Guess I technically count in there. But it has only just barely started.

I’m keeping myself from fidgeting, but only because my hands are occupied with a punch glass. Stops me from constantly trying to tug my dress up higher.

“I don’t know that I would ever describe myself as buxom, but yes. That would be me. I love your costume, the jacket especially.”

Maybe I should have gone to that much effort, too. But it took enough to get myself into the mood for dressing up to begin with. Ah. There’s Karla. I didn’t really know if any of the other Thunderbolt sorts would be showing up at all. The tone of her voice and what she says though… well. It makes me instantly even more self-conscious than I already was.

“You came in a costume at least, I’ll let it slide.”

She doesn’t seem tall to me, but that is only really because I’m already tall myself. I’m trying to joke a little. Put myself at ease more than anything, be friendly…

Mock : "Wow, a shiny . . . landlubber."

Okay, so her commitment to her character wasn't the best, but really. . . it wasn't like she honestly expected to ever go under cover as a pirate. What was at full tilt was the sense of humor, and the very wicked grin she flashes at the statuesque blonde as she strides up was classically Mockingbird.

"You know what would make that costume?"

"Eyepatch."

"Though I might just have a thing for those."

And without even a pause in breath, adressing their 'hostess' too. "Thanks, I had the jacket from Halloween. It would have been Nicer if Mojo hadn't turned me into a pirate, then, but he gave me a wench too so I won't complain too much." Greer in the slavegirl outfit had been a hoot. Almost as much as someone else dressing up like her, acting like. . . well, her.

"You two crazy kids need to talk superheroing business? I can go stand over there and pretend like I won't hear every word anyway, while . . . is that rum?"

Karla : "I stopped a bank robbery on the way here. You wouldn't believe how much trouble it is to reweave my costume into costumed outfit once I've changed it. All of those little nuances that I never bothered paying attention to while I was getting dressed."

A lazy smile, a careless shrug of her shoulders, as if Karla didn't truly care either way. Which was a very accurate statement, as she didn't much care. The shiny costume she wore was a visible reminder to the people who showed up that her and Grace were T-Bolts, as if they could forget, thus cementing in their minds T-Bolts and Children's Charities, and working a nice bit of social Public Rations without even really having to do more then sip champaign and be present for a short amount of time.

And Karla liked when gains were made for minimal effort.

"Eyepatches always struck me as so 70's bad television." A faint twitch of her lips, as she grasped a bit of drink off a passing servant.

"No need. I don't believe we need to talk shop, do we Grace?"

Grace : “Landlubber, ah. Yes, that’s the word.”

I’m not nearly so versed in pirateese as the kids from the school are, I should have taken notes or something during all their carrying on. Heaven knows I watched enough fake sword fights, some of the ones up for grabs on the assorted tables were probably used for just such a thing. I’m amazed they made it in one piece to be given out tonight.

“You did? Was everything alright? Obviously I’d much rather that was stopped than you came decked out in costume. Not. That what you wear is at all up to me. Or should be. Or.”

I’m starting to babble. Stop it, Grace. Ahem.

“But. No. Like Karla said, there’s not any need for business chats here. Unless someone decides the donation box is a tempting target. Which would be rather low of them.”

A little paranoid? Perhaps. The last fancy dress up party I went to? Someone did try to abduct me and steal the benefit’s proceeds. Even if the latter was a cover.

“Oh. A wench? Well that was…thoughtful of him, wasn’t it? I haven’t had the..pleasure of being involved in one of his events. I thought my costume was nice enough for this though. Maybe not terribly authentic…”

The most involved I’ve been in Mojo anything was seeing tapes of our…my… daughter. And the consequences of me trying to be involved in any sort of permanent relationship along with my job might have.

Mock : "Yeah, 'cause shiney silver skintight outfits with heels aren't at all dated." Nope. Not seventies at all. Hey, where was the silver disco ball necklace, anyway? Batting her eyelashes there as she offers a teasing grin, and turns back to Grace, skirts aswirlin'. "I think she made it through the bank robbery unscathed. Cops do every day across the US, and she came to a pirate party afterwards. I'm figuring she's good to go."

"Your costume is great. I like the hat, and the dress is pretty, and did they paper machete a boat? I love kids. I do."

"Donation box! Yep, I think I'll do that, before some scurvy cutpurse finds me first." Winking at both of them, she fishes two fingertips into her coat, and pulls a purple Crown Royal (What? It was what she had) drawstring bag out of the inside pocket of her captain's jacket, and swaggers to the donation box.

Didn't know a darn person there, personally, though she recognized them probably the same way they recognized her. Wasn't stopping her a bit.

Karla : "It was a trifle, barely even qualified as a dust up, although I'm afraid I caused a little bit of collateral damage with their tellers boothes." Karla offered that lazy smile again, like the Cheshire Cat. Petty criminals amused her, to the point it was almost not even an ego boost to thrash them like the idiots they were. They made satisfying sounds when you through them through solid wood-like objects though, none the less.

"Breath, Grace. Breath." She reminds the other woman, with a light laugh. At least she didn't flinch, the way a certain male did whenever Karla was present. Of course, if said certain someone had said that, she'd likely have left him on the floor clutching his groin for an hour or two of his foreseeable future.

"Oh, not dated in the least. Retro, but not dated." Karla corrects lightly, but without any real feeling behind the words. Those lazy blue eyes just seemed almost bored as she gazed across the room, checking what movers and shakers were present for the affair.

Grace : I’m staying completely out of whatever verbal barbs might be a-flying between these two. For one thing? I know I’m not capable of keeping up with it. I may be smart, but quick witted and sly of tongue? Not at all.

“I meant more the. Well. I suppose this time of night there wouldn’t be any customers in the bank, would there? Nevermind.”

I’m already embarrassing myself and starting to turn vaguely pink. Oh look, I have a drink. Now would be a good time to have some of it…

“Mm. Yes. They did, they’ve been working on the decorations for almost a month. I would have done this sooner but they really wanted to do a theme thing. Even if they couldn’t be here. They did put a lot of work into it. I don’t think I’d ever paper macheted anything in my life before now. It’s…somewhat sticky work.”

No, Karla doesn’t make me nervous. But she isn’t male, which seems to be all it takes to set me on edge anymore.

“Yes, watch out for the cutpurses. Who knows who might sneak in here. Or. You know, just try to be ‘in theme’ in profession as well as dress.”

I’m spreading my dress skirts a little with a smile, it is nice on me. Knowing me, that means it’ll be my Halloween costume for the next few years. Assuming I dress up at all.

“I’m remembering the air intake. Honest. Though I could blame the getup if I really wanted.”

Right. Anyone who knows me knows I’d take all the credit for anything like that.

Tara McKinley : Thoughts

Mon, 20 Aug 2007 07:54:06 GMT

Tara : The list of places I’ve been to has never been very large. Until I got sent packing to Muir Island, I’d never even been out of Ireland proper. Geographical travel picked up somewhat at my new home, whether because the island was demolished and we had to go stay somewhere else, or in the case of that whole future Mojo fiasco, I got dropped in New York. Memorable first time to the United States, I suppose, also had been a very short stay since Moira had bundled the pair of us onto a plane back to the UK as quickly as possible. When she wasn’t a monkey anymore, that is.

And now here, well. I think this may be my favorite trip yet. Odd, isn’t it? There’s no imminent threat of mob violence. No castle under attack by plants. No futuristic, leather clad me putting very angry boots to heads. Head. I suppose there’d only been the one. I may be just slightly prejudiced though, thanks to the circumstances, and the company. And the fact that it’s actually not leaning climactically towards wet and icy cold? That’s icing. The cake is the company though.

I’d think it’s something in the water they’ve been supplying back home on Muir, but maybe it’s something else I was told entirely. Moira’d said it. And not that I really doubted her when it came from her mouth, but Tor’s always had a way of saying things in such a way that I go ‘oh. Duh.’ I suppose like I try to do to people, only he’s much smoother with the delivery. Makes the pill go down better. I’m growing up. He said it’s a good look on me. That I’m not so unstomachable to be around. I know he was kidding on the last part. Even if he hadn’t had the stupid grin on his face. That particular sibling was never serious when he said things like that. The other three? Most likely. And myself included. Tor had more time to develop wit and charm. The rest of us were much too busy trying to exert dominance over each other to figure out the non-physical ways to boss each other around.

Leaning against the railing of the balcony, I’m not doing much of.. anything for once. Staring up at the stars, odd since I never paid that much attention to them back home, but I watched enough to know they’re completely different down here. Go figure, hm? Opposite hemisphere and all, from far north to far south. Practiced stargazer or not, they make something nice to look at while I think. I’ve never, ever been much of an introspective person. Or really any sort of thinker period. I’m impulsive. A creature of wants and needs. There’s never really much in the way of questions of ‘should I do this?’ It’s ‘do I want to do this?’ And I hadn’t ever really factored anyone else into many of my decisions. Never felt the need to, because what did it matter if someone else wanted the same thing, so long as I got what I was ultimately after.

I have my moments though. This has apparently decided to become one of them. I don’t know that this relationship bears any need for comparison to the last I was in. For one, I don’t like to think about it that much. If I was being cruel, I’d say Annie enjoyed it if nothing else, because it lead to a whole lot of purchased alcohol from her establishment at the end of it. There’s the differences though, that I guess just.. affirm this choice. Maybe because Tommy and I are similarly tempermented. I’d actually have thought that would have lead to more fights between us but. I don’t think we’ve ever had one. With Josh, it was a multidaily affair, when we first met, at least weekly once we’d stopped hating each other and started with the making out instead.

I’d been reluctant with that one, more so that now. Odd considering how that experience ended. With a lot of disappointment, and a threat that I’d made to him before I’d told him I loved him that I have never actually carried out. Maybe I wasn’t completely serious when I’d said if he ever broke my heart they would never find all of the pieces of him. Right. More likely I don’t want Moira to murder me in turn, or kick me off her island, or to go to jail for premeditated murder.

Or maybe because you know? It doesn’t really matter now. I still hate him. Hate him, hate him, hate him. But I’ve got something better now, someone I wouldn’t have had, or maybe even noticed otherwise (though I think Tommy’s a little hard to just… miss.) I’m not worried that it’ll go the same way. I’m not a worrier. He’s my equal, and makes up for my lack of thought on.. most things with his ability to think things through hundreds of times in the space that I’m not.

I’m not sure I can put a time on it. The time, date, anything like that, when my enjoying the attention a very persistent Tommy was paying to me, the gifts, the arguments for why I should be with him.. when my just physically wanting him turned into an evolving emotional attachment that neither of us ever really voice, or need to. But it did. And now we’re here. I’m his, and he’s mine. At least for the year and a day. I’m not having anything like second thoughts, haven’t at all. Which would be weird to me, but I think it goes back, once more, to what Moira and I’d talked about.

He’s someone that I’m content to let be my equal, my partner. I don’t feel like I have to prove I’m better than he is. That’s how you know.

Tara McKinley : Something Borrowed

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 02:28:13 GMT

Tara : My part’s taken care of for this event, the part I was assigned by Tommy at, at least other than looking gorgeous on Thursday. That, we know, will not be the least bit difficult for me to pull off. When is it ever? I’m sure Tommy at least, is glad that the invitations are already finished and gone out a good bit before now. I had apparently been exceptionally fussy about the entire thing, which I think was completely worth it, given how they turned out.

I’d put one of the copies I’d kept on my dresser even. Right up until I started getting antsy, it made a nice addition to the other things I’ve got up on display there. It’s still there of course, I just laid it down so I’d stop staring at it while I laid in bed. Which is what I’d been doing.

I’m pretty sure I have never been nervous once in my life. Up until now. Maybe it comes with an excess amount of bravery, like I have, or what some may refer to as being too pigheadedly stupid to realize when something should frighten me. Matches never made me feel like that, I never had butterflies in my stomach. Maybe my overwhelming confidence that we were going to win prevented any of the doubts that spawn the little winged critters in the first place. Before or during fights, I’ve always been far too busy enjoying myself, or exerting dominance with fists and gravity on the unlucky saps on the opposite side of the field from me.

It’s driving me fairly well crazy, actually. It’s an emotion I don’t know what to do with, and the anxiety rolling around in my stomach has driven me into the gymnasium so that I can try to so completely focus my attention on something else that I won’t think about it. I don’t know if it’s just the event itself that’s gotten me all worked up, or if it’s that and the combination of all the guests. I still don’t know for sure how many of my family are coming. At least two of them, showing up tomorrow. I know who I want to come of them, whomever else drops down on us, I’ll work with it. So long as my baby brother’s here.

I guess I take it back. I’ve been wound up like this before, whenever Tor had to go to the emergency room, I’d make a holy terror of myself. And as Moira’s experienced many a times, when first Josh was down there, and then later Tommy. Apparently it’s only people that have this somewhat disconcerting effect on me and my stomach. Apparently all menfolk, though I have a very hard time thinking of my little brother as a man. He’ll probably always be Tory, my tiny, frail little brother that I always had to look out for. He may very well not be tiny anymore, it has been three years since I’ve seen him other than pictures. Leaving me behind to be the shortest in the family. Maybe he’s not though. We’ll see. If he comes that is.

That if makes my stomach roil again, and me make a face, before I turn back to the tennis balls I’ve been working up one side of the gym and down again, across the floor, ceiling, for the better part of the afternoon and onto the evening. Apparently trying this hard to focus on my powers, and absolutely nothing else, has a surprising affect. They’ve done exactly what I’ve wanted. The entire time. No hitches, no badly aimed fields, nothing collapsing in on me. Just alternating directional orbits of clusters, working their way perfectly around me, while I almost absently follow them with blue eyes.

I should try to not make myself think more often, I guess.

Still. It’s hard not to, with something this big looming in days. Day after tomorrow. I can’t decide if that’s really soon, or if it’s an eternity away disguised as two. I can already take a fairly educated guess that I won’t be able to sleep at all tonight, and that I’ll likely be driving anyone who makes the mistake of hanging around me as anxious as I feel while I wait for the ferry to bring over what guests might be arriving. Maybe I can make the island pull it faster, just so I don’t have to sit there and wait so long. Patient person, I never have been. Of course, there’s always the possibility of me sinking the boat by attempting something like that on jittery nerves. Doesn’t occur to me but it’s there.

I’d hope that I could sleep all day, until the time comes, but I know better than that. I’ve never been able to stay in bed much past seven in the morning, even if I am exhausted. Early riser, even if I am also usually late in getting into bed in the first place. Maybe I’ll just have to devote the day to more like this. Practice, practice, practice, to draw my mind away.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. Excitement is a feeling I know how to cope with, I’ve felt it many a time before, almost always before something big. All those times when normal people would have been scared, nervous, I get riled up. In the positive way, at least to my mode of thinking. I can’t wait, really, for me and Tommy to be center of attention, for my brother to meet him. Tor has taken to quoting Shakespeare whenever I mention Tommy’s name. And has also taken to calling him Petruchio. He’s terribly clever, my brother, and he knows it.

If Tor comes. If. I shouldn’t get so wound up over it, really, of all the emotions I don’t handle well? Disappointment is the one I cope with the worst. There’s a bobble, momentarily, to the trio of rotating rings of yellow balls, and I grind my teeth, before forcing them right again. Nah. Don’t think about it like that, it’s not going to help, right?

I’m internally my worst enemy right now, I suppose, working myself up and over just as forcefully as I’m marching the sporting equipment in paths around the large room.

Moira : "I take it throwing a tennis ball at you today wouldnae be appreciated, considering. On the upside, yuir lack of concentration seems tae be working in your favor at the moment. Which means you may not end up bruised and concussed before the big event tomorrow."

"I wouldnae have thought it possible with tennis balls, but then I met you."

Leaned against the wall next to the wide double doors of the gym, Moira stands with her hands shoved into the pockets of her lab coat, ankles crossed as she leans comfortably against the wall watching her student. The low sarcasm was fond enough, for Moira at least. The arched eyebrow and faint smirk humorous. Pushing off of the wall, Moira strolls across her gym to perch instead on the bench lining the far wall, near Tara.

"I take it you've things on yuir mind. I'd ask if ye want to talk, but I rather doubt it, let alone with me of all people." Another wry smirk. "I'm certain you've picked out everything yuir wearing, but I thought I'd offer these nonetheless. I'm hoping they bring you more luck than they ever brought me." Procuring a wide blue velvet box from her pocket, she offers it up to Tara.

Tara : Eyes flick over quickly, to the sound of the voice, as Moira joins me in the gymnasium. The corner of my mouth turns up into a wry smile, even as my attention goes visually back towards my practice.

“Go right ahead. I’d just snag them and add them into the loops. I do appreciate the vote of confidence though, truly. I do.”

I haven’t ever bruised myself with tennis balls. Or concussed. That’s all been done with rocks. Why do you think I’m doing these intricate patterns with something soft? I mean. Other than the obvious fact that they were already in here, they’re brightly colored and highly visible, and I don’t have to take them back outside when I’m done. The not dense enough to cause serious physical harm part is just an extra.

It wouldn’t be Moira and myself if we weren’t barbing at each other. Really, it’s only when we get serious with it that you know there’s a problem.

“I haven’t injured myself in weeks, I’ll have you know. Though you full well already do know. And I know it. You know.”

So I’m being odd, and adding in all the extra knows. I’m in an odd mood for me period, though.

“No, nothing on my mind at all, Moira. Just my family, or some of it anyway, showing up and the whole ceremony. Not much at all. Mmnope.”

Eyes are moving over again, while she pulls something from her pocket. I. Didn’t expect her to give me anything, I don’t ever really expect anyone to, though. All the tennis balls zoom to the center of the gym once again, where they drop rather unceremoniously to the floor to bounce off in all directions.

It was intentional. How can you tell? There’s no swearing, growling or teeth gnashing. That’s how.

“Yeah, you should see the dress. My mother is going to love it. It almost looks proper even. From the front. There’s just the matter of the slit up the side..”

I love it, actually. And it looks great on me, which is more important of the two. Or maybe they’re equal, I suppose it doesn’t really matter. The fact that my Mom is going to choke and splutter wasn’t even thought of much until after I’d picked it out. Taking the box from Moira’s hand, I set it in my lap to flip the lid open. And just. Stare. I may not have expected anything to begin with, but even if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have expected this. These.

“Wow they’re. Wow. Are you..sure?”

Stunning response from me, isn’t it? But I’m that. Stunned.

Moira : For once, Moira doesn't even quip back. . . or throw the ball. She would, usually, just to test the theory that Tara had things under control. The faint twist of her lips, humorous, she just waits for Tara to set them down, and draws her feet up as they roll about the room, folding herself indian-style, pulling her coat around her as Tara takes the box.

"If yuir nervous about taking them, Tara, you cin promise tae give them back on the incredibly implausible day I remarry. As it stands, I dinnae have much use for them in the laboratory, do I?" Taking the box back from Tara into the palm of her hand, she gently lifts one of the earrings, holding the elegant loop of diamond and silver by the hook, closing one eye slightly and tilting her head to the side as she eyes it as if Tara were wearing it.

"As I thought. Suits ye. They'll go with yuir 'almost proper' dress, then, an' give ye incentive to keep yuir hair out of yuir face."

Tucking the earring back into the box, Moira entends it again to Tara, watching her. "I expect it will be interesting, actually meeting yuir family. I trust Tor's doing better, then?" Admitting her involvement? Never. "And for you, seeing them again."

"It has been a while, hasn't it? You here?"

Tara : “Other than contriving some elaborate set up to blind your interns with them? Probably not, no. The deal works though. I’ll cough them back up for that. No looming news of you and the other good Doctor that I should be snooping around for then? Though, I mean, who says you have to be married to enjoy yourself..”

I know I have been. While Moira’s trying to apparently picture me wearing her earrings, I even strike a bit of a pose for her, tilting my chin up with a toss of red, red hair.

“Of course it’ll be out of my face, wouldn’t want to disrupt the view for anyone, now would I?”

Claiming the box once again, closing it, it gets turned around absently between my fingers, chin tilting down again as I watch the motion. She’s right though, they will look perfect with my dress, with the other jewelry I was planning to wear for the big day. And I certainly didn’t have any earrings of my own that would be a match for them. They’re all much more along the lines of either tacky plastic in bright colors, or tiny muted hoops.

“Three years. I’m having a really hard time not picturing Tor as thirteen years old and like, a foot shorter than me.”

So that’s an exaggeration. He wasn’t that short when I left. The age was correct though.

“I hope he’s coming. I. Really do. I know my mother is, who else she’s hauling with her though. Tor said he’d try, he’s who I’d.. well. Most like of all of them to show.”

I just never got as close to the others as I did him, maybe because the older boys were always too busy beating the snot out of each other, and me, that all relationships I built with them was based on that. Tor wasn’t ever sturdy enough for rough housing, so I had to have..gasp.. conversations with him instead. Biting my lip for a moment, before I turn slightly to face Moira. There’s a slight pause before I’m throwing my arms around her.

“Thank you Moira. For Tor. I know it was you. He told me to quit being such an ungrateful bitch and just say it.”

Yes. Exact words. Followed by ‘love ya Tar!’ and him hanging up on me. The little jerk is the only one who gets away with that crap, and I can never figure out why.

“But. Thank you even without him making me say it.”

Moira : She didn't particularly figure it would take much to convince Tara to take the earrings. If that had failed, she could have simply fallen to a much younger argument of 'but look, they're sparkly' and the girl would have caved, she was fairly certain. Shaking her head slightly, tossing her own dark auburn hair out of her eyes, she leans her head back against the wall. "Lass, I'm still MacTaggert, rather than my natural Kinross, as a reminder tae myself. The chances of my trying again, considering the . . . travesty that was my marriage to Joe MacTaggert, are nonexistant. It's nae a reflection on Hank, or on anything other than me."

Laughing quietly, Moira raises her eyes to the ceiling as Tara talks about her brother's growth, shrugging slightly. "Three years cin give him plenty of time tae outgrow you. I take it ye've planned tall heels tae counter that? But he'll be here, lass, I'm sure of it. You cin show him the pictures you've taken, tell him what a harridan I am, take him on the impromptu tour if ye want. I draw the line on taking him up in the jet, though."

And suddenly she was hugged. Blinking, Moira eventually wraps her arm around Tara's shoulder, hugging her back with a quiet laugh. "Tara, I'll explain something, an' only once."

"Family is what ye make of it. I'm honored the lot of ye living on this island stay day-to-day, despite everything we go through here. I'm useless at socializing, at being a personable person. I'm good at one thing. My job. An' if I can help with that. . . "

"I will."

"So don't thank me. It's all I could do."

Tara : The sparkly line. Yes. It quite possibly would have worked. Or just flattering me is usually a pretty good way to swing it. Barring that, there’s the ‘you wouldn’t be able to pull them off anyway.’ That’s the garaunteed one. Make it sound like you doubt my capability to do or say something and it’s almost for certain that it’ll make me.

“Ah, well. Like I said. So long as you’re enjoying yourself.”

Mischeivious little smirk, while I shrug my shoulders at her. It’s not like I’m one to try to tell her ‘oh, god you must get married.’ My entire family was shocked that I had made the decision to. As aloof as I may try to pass myself off as being, they are my family, and they know me. Even if a lot of it I suspect is just insight Tor passes along to the rest of them. It wasn’t even at the age I’d elected to do it, my mother already had twins when she was the age I’m sitting at now, but that I’d made any sort of commitment to anything beyond myself.

“I don’t know if I want him outgrowing me. Well. I do. But that’ll just leave me the bottom end of the height scale in the family.”

All my brothers except Tor were at least six inches taller than me when I left. And they probably weren’t even done growing at that point. Even my mother is taller. How I got stuck being shorter than even her if just some gross injustice perpetrated on me.

“He doesn’t think you’re a harridan. He thinks you’re an acceptable substitute for giving me crap while he’s not able to directly. And I wouldn’t try to take him up in the jet anyway.”

I’d be too scared of crashing it and hurting him. Me, I could really care less about.

“Oh stop. It was hard enough for me to spit the words out in the first place. So you’re getting them. There’s no chance he would have been able to come at all without. Well. Now he hopefully will.”

Moira : Moira moves back away from her, rolling her eyes slightly as she folds her arms across her chest, snorting. "Lovely. Yes. Thank ye for yuir permission tae carry on my relationship with Hank. Yuir approval truly makes all the difference." She'd managed to move past dry to downright tart, harumphing slightly. "He's a good man, an' while I am aware that he's entirely too young for me, he happens tae be one of a very short list of those even more intelligent than me, an' he manages tae carry on both sides of one of our conversations by translating my sarcasm."

"An' if you ever press for more details than that, Tara, I'll go about reminding ye about how much of a harridan I am, in case you forgot."

Resting her arms across her knees, Moira shrugs slightly, tilting her head as she looks at Tara and smirking. "You've grown. Nae taller, perhaps, but yuir commitment doesnae surprise me. You just accepted a role on Excalibur. You dedicated yuirself to your studies, though belatedly perhaps. Yuir nae too terrible at yuir job, an' yuir doing something you would have scoffed at two years ago even."

"I'm nae surprised that you're making this commitment as well. Thomas is certainly committed tae you."

Bumping her shoulder against Tara's a moment and smirking, Moira chortles wryly. "So dinnae fret overmuch about the height. Yuir four inches taller than me, lass, it'll make me self-conscious. For likely the first time in my life."

"Yuir brother will be here. Frankly, there's no better place for him tae visit, now, is there?"

Tara : I can’t help my own snort, though mine’s laughter, while Moira straightens up and away again. I’m shoving my own hands, after slightly more carefully placing the velvet box into my sweatshirt, into my jeans’ front pockets, slouching down on the bench a bit.

“You’re welcome. I’m sure you’ll carry on with much easier loads on your shoulders, now that I’ve given you my blessings. And that doesn’t bother you? That he’s smarter? I guess it says something.”

I’ve figured it does in my own case, as well. Tommy’s a pretty equal match for me. I know I’ll never run as fast as he does, and he’ll never be able to fly like I can. Unless we help each other do it, that is. That fact that someone’s made everything as much of a competition for me as he does, and I haven’t tried to murder him into submission? Really, it speaks volumes. It’s a weird thing for me to realize I’ve accepted, actually.

“I. Guess I have. Trust me, no one’s more shocked than my father about the grades and studies part. I think he figured I was the most hopeless case of the lot of us. They were banking on Tor being the first to actually go to University, or something of a similar level.”

It was probably quite embarrassing for him actually. My father’s a teacher. Convenient for when Tor couldn’tn actually make it in for public school at times, but his irritation at my lack of effort wasn’t ever really enough to push me into actually trying back when I was at home. The mention of Tommy well. And I’m grinning. Hopefully not too much like an idiot.

“He is rather attached, isn’t he? I mean. Obviously he couldn’t possibly help it but… I suppose I do have that. And yes, I was going to wear a pair of nice big heels that make people wonder how on earth I’m standing upright, and makes my legs look even more fetching than they already do on their own. Height doesn’t matter so much anyway. Bite’s more important.”

I think if anyone ever judged either me or Moira on size, they’d be surprised at how much ‘feisty’ the frames can hold. And in sad trouble.

“You’re right, there’s really not. I mean. I’m here. Makes it the best place to be.”

Moira : Moira shakes her head slightly, laughing quietly at the question. "No, lass, it doesnae bother me. I'm still the better laboratory scientist of the two of us, which still makes him one of the best. So it's nae like he's besting me at my own game. The laboratory levels the playing field, an' I've already built my reputation. I dinnae have tae prove anything to him."

Unfolding her legs, Moira pushes herself slowly up from the bench, rolling her shoulders slightly. "Well, you've proved them wrong. An' I'm certain you'll continue tae prove everyone else that gets any preconcieved notions about ye wrong, too."

"Yuir good at that."

"I suppose I should make sure my island's presentable, shouldn't I? Let me know if there's anything ye need me to do, lass."

Tara : I suppose it’s true, too. Moira has her area, and if nothing else, the island and the facility are hers, and her work, and that’s an awfully big physical, visual showing of what she’s done. I don’t know that I’ll be able to look at other folks necessarily as being better at me in something because it’s their specialty, and not mine. But at least I’m content enough with mine and Tommy’s strengths where they differ.

I quite enjoy some of his talents, after all. It would make no sense to complain about them.

“I probably will, you’re right. It’s that healthy dose of spite. It’s apparently making me do surprising things without my intending to.”

Proving people wrong is a healthy motivator I suppose. Or there’s always bribery, which has seemed to work spectacularly on me in the past.

“Can’t help it. I like the shocked and startled looks I get that way. Without actually doing anything shocking or startling. Or nothing I think should be anyway. Don’t worry. If I think of anything, I’ll come knocking.”

Heaving myself back upright, I kick into my powers again, scooping the stray tennis balls back towards the middle, so that I can start putting them away. I want to go prance around in front of my mirror with the earrings on now. I’m not a vain creature at all.

“Loudly. And intrusively as possible.”

Moira : "Thankfully, I lock my doors. Though I do hope you'll draw the line at barging in."

And raising an eyebrow, Moira backs out the door, and into the hall.

Jennifer Walters : Client Meeting

Fri, 10 Aug 2007 06:26:18 GMT

Bruce : Working at Murdock and Nelson is a good thing for any lawyer. Even with one of the partners having no vested interest in the partnership right now, the firm itself is a successful firm. Being successful also means that it's well known. So finding out that a young woman named Jennifer Walters is fairly easy to handle.

From there it is just a problem of setting things in motion. First, getting someone that can be trusted to make an appointment with the partnership. The fact is even the laws governing client/lawyer confidentiality is not going to stop SHIELD from spying on Jennifer to see if Bruce Banner makes contact with her. Especially not when she has been pretty publicly She-Hulk for a good bit of time these days. So first an appointment is made, from there it's just a matter of getting in to the city without incident.

The checkpoints can be skipped by normal humans. So as long as nothing happens, which would trigger the levels of gamma to go insane, it's fairly simplistic to just slip in to the city. Then 'take' the appointment, in place of the friends who set it up. Taking every precaution in not looking like the 'well known' and 'wanted' Bruce Banner, by choosing baggy pants, a long tapered and hooded coat. A few weeks worth of facial growth.

Even Bruce's own mother wouldn't recognize the 'bum' who walks in and takes a seat across from Jennifer in her office.

Jen : Today’s been my catch up day at the office, or it’s what I appoint the day for. I generally keep on top of everything, and it’s pretty rare when I actually fall far enough behind on anything in order to need the day. But it can happen, especially if things are hectic, with a particularly nasty trial to be running after. And if there isn’t really any purpose to my ‘day’ then I get to have a nice accomplished feeling at what a good little lawyer girl I really, truly am.

It is a good appointment day though, if nothing else, when I’m not running helter skelter. I get to be cool and composed to meet new clients (not that I’m not always cool. And usually composed), you want the first impressions to be good ones after all, or why would they want you representing them?

I’d say I’m a bit surprised at the state of man who takes up a temporary residence in the comfortable leather chair across my desk from my own overly large one (I sit a green rump in it sometimes, after all, and that one is a little more difficult to accommodate than my regular one). I prefer to think of it as overstuffed. But back to my surprise. Or lack thereof. With some of the people I’ve represented over the years? It’s hard to truly shock me.

“Evening, obviously you’ve found the office, so welcome. What can we do for you?”

Because. If he hadn’t found the office he’d be. Not here. Obviously.

Bruce : "I want to turn myself in, but I don't trust the system." The words are simple to say, but difficult to explain. Once I start to talk this out it just sort of begins to tumble out, almost out of nervousness I reach out to take a pencil out of her desk to keep my hands busy. "I've done some horrible things, but they weren't entirely under my control. I can't say that I'm blameless, just that the blame is not mine alone."

"I need someone to make sure that my story is heard, entirely. Maybe then I can get the help I need to fix my problem."

For the last several years I've been out of touch with the world. So some things are just new to me, despite the fact that others have known it for years. Imagine my surprise when I turned on the news and saw the Hulk plastered on the headlines, in a fashion that wasn't entirely negative. Of course it wasn't me, it wasn't Hulk, it was the woman across the desk from me.

"I've been running away for a long time, not just from the authorities but also from myself. I had it... the urges... under control for a time, but then it all came rushing back in to my head recently. The anger, the rage, the desire to..." The pencil from her desk snaps between my fingertips. "...smash."

"When I saw you in the paper it gave me some hope. Hope that maybe this problem I have can be used for something good, but I tried the government's way before, and it didn't work. They put me in a hole, used me as a weapon, but that's all anyone ever uses me for. A weapon. A living WMD."

Looking down blankly at the pencil before discarding it in disgust, my hand brushing away tangles of hair from my eyes, allowing me to focus from the pencil to Jennifer. "Jenn, it's Bruce."

Jen : He’s got my attention, certainly, scruffy bum appearance or no. Appearances are deceiving after all. Take a look at me. And who knows how many other mild mannered sorts there are spread around this city with amazing abilities lurking beneath their skin. Maybe not literally but. You get my point?

Fingers are steepling, under my chin while I listen, elbows propped up on the well padded armrests of my chair. I’m not interrupting, since it’s kind of important I hear this part of the meetings, after all. Find out exactly what it is that they want worked out, taken care, getting the wheels churning in that bright little mind of mine as to what exactly I can do subsequently.

There’s a blink of green eyes at the changing mannerisms, the distress, and the breaking of my pencil. Not that I care so much about the pencil. I’ve got boxes of them in here somewhere. It’s more the action itself. I’m not particularly feeling personally threatened here, or I’d have already begin to ruin my snazzy little business suit with a limb lengthening transformation.

I do, actually, manage to be made to look surprised, startled though, when he tells me who exactly he actually is, eyebrows shooting up for my forehead. It might actually be a comical look. Just not in this situation.

“Bruce? My God. I saw on the news but I didn’t have any idea where you might have gone…”

Now I’m drumming my fingers on the edge of the desk while I try to think. I wasn’t expecting this at all. Any number of other things, but not this.

“Fwoooowell.”

It makes me angry that he’s been used that way. Even beyond the fact that he’s extended family, he’s family that saved my skinny little ass once, and made me into what I love being. Even if he may not have meant to. So there’s a bit of tension to my jaw, while I’ve got my teeth clenched.

“Turning in. But not to the system proper like. They’d just come fish you out of the jail if that’s where you ended up.”

Bruce : "I wouldn't end up there," this is important, she has to understand this. "When I was in custody last time, they didn't give me a trial. They just locked me beneath a mountain, in a fancy little jail cell with no edges. No corners, everything padded so that I couldn't be hurt by anything. They played peaceful music at all times. Any time I'd feel particularly upset at my situation they'd pump gas into the cell, to keep me sedate."

"I wasn't alone either. There was others in those cells. Others like me. When all those alien things attacked," the Gal ak Tus event. "SHIELD put this psychic on me, who could force calm on me. They used me against the Heralds, like a weapon, then locked me back up when they were done."

When my hands return to my focus I'm watching as they shake, not from fear, but just from the exertion I'm giving to bring myself back under control. "Then we had an earthquake. Major earthquake. Caused a partial cave in, on my cell. Next thing I know the Hulk has rampaged across North America. When I got control, I just knew I couldn't just keep being shoved in a hole. They're not doing anything to cure me. They won't let me work on a cure... they're just looking for ways to use me, and to reproduce me. So I ran away, after Russia, Sue Richards told me to go.. and she made me invisible. After that I just never looked back, I went through most of Europe doing odd jobs, finally I got work on a boat to South America, where I'd been working for a few months before some 'heroes' broke in and destroyed the place."

"You have control, and seeing you? It's given me an idea. Maybe if I can't cure this, I can -control- it... I just need time, and a lab with actual equipment. All I can get on the run is second hand materials, maybe steal a few glances into a real lab before I'm caught and have to run away again." Stopping there, and looking at her directly. "That group, on Fourth of July, Ultimatium. They offered me the chance at real labs, but it was just a trap. They wanted to use the Hulk too, and I fell for it."

"I couldn't trust anyone else after that, except... then I saw you on the news, and I was trying to make contact with you when the Punisher found me in New Jersey.... I guess you know what happened after... that."

Jen : “No bass pumping rock ballads? I would have gotten upset, too.”

Who wants to listen to elevator music all day long, and probably all evening? Not me, that’s who. But almost the entirety of my music collection on my iPod consists of 80’s music. So I suppose some unintelligent people might claim my lyrical taste is lacking. Crazies. Maybe this isn’t the best time for making wise cracks, but I can’t really help it. Before I had my inner She-Hulk I could have, but she’s instilled quite a bit more comedy relief in me than I ever had before that.

“Well. You know what, Bruce? They didn’t have me to deal with the last time. And they try to mess with my family this time they aren’t going to know what hit them.”

Actually they probably would. The big and green is pretty unmistakable.

“Apparently they never thought to try what I would think would be the simplest method, I suppose we can thank God? Or there’d be more than just me running around, and as much as I’m positive I’d still be the most attractive She-Hulk? I don’t really want competition. Hm. Well. I was a little out of control in the way I suppose any kid is who goes off to college and gets to stretch their wings, but I never lost control. Lost pretty much any and all inhibitions, but I sort of evened out after a while. Happy middle ground, instead of two halves of me that were polar opposites.”

I never felt as… angry has he’s always seemed on the news footage, that’s what the Hulk is know for though. The rage. Maybe I never got that way because I really don’t have much of anything to be angry about.

“So. What are you thinking then, cos? Laying low and trying to find a lab you can use in the meantime?”

I really shouldn’t be aiding and abbeting this should I, but. Family. Saved my life. List could go oonnnn…

“And do you want a full trial? I think I could raise a sufficient ruckus that they’d have to give you one.”

Bruce : "Jennifer," this is serious and she's making a crack, but somehow as I'm about to chastise her it makes me smile. "Don't tell me you're the 'cutest there is' or I'm going to see if that Nelson fella is still at Lunch."

Listening to her, I find myself remembering the times I had in college. They were some of the good times, with Betty and Janet, even Hank when he wasn't a jackass. It's just so long ago, shrouded in a lot of bad memories from more recent times. Maybe that's something I should remember, occasionally, my life hasn't always been this messy.

"It doesn't work that way," cutting in to what she said. "Blood transfusion is the first thing we attempted with Steve Rogers on the super soldier serum. After I was locked away it's the first thing they tried too. You see this... curse... we share. My father, David Banner, was working on the original Super Soldier serum project as a lab assistant. When it all went up in flames, to save his work he injected himself..."

"I don't know how, but if you look through family records, I would surmise that sometime in the past my father gave someone in your family blood, or a kidney or something. Something that made you genetically predisposed too. I.. created the modern blood curse on our family..." As this last bit comes out things are changing again, I'm getting upset at myself, and that comes with a series of fidgets.

My hands grip tightly on the arms of the chair I'm sitting in. "Jenn, I don't know. You're the legal mind, I wasn't thinking any further ahead than... asking you for help. I don't know if you saw what happened on television or not, but the Punisher... he he... he made sure that the Hulk is very very angry. Always angry. I can barely control it anymore. If I don't find a way out of the anxiety of SHIELD around every corner, I'm going to lose it."

"Listen, I need to get out of here. We should meet somewhere without so many people around next time."

Jen : “Oh please. He’s not nearly as humorous as me, and then my feelings would be hurt.”

I pull my face into a straight expression again though, forehead furrowing a bit, at first his theory on how exactly I might have ended up this way, and a little deeper still when he refers to it as a family curse. Which. In all fairness? From his standpoint I’m sure it is. But I think he needs to understand that to me, it isn’t.

“Shhh. Listen, Bruce. I can’t even begin to imagine what all they’ve subjected you to, how that must have felt. But what I do know? Is I have never. Ever. Considered this anything other than a spectacular gift that you’ve given me. Even if you didn’t mean to, that’s what it is. Not only I did it give me the ability to kick ass and save lives on the street, but it brought skinny, shy little Jen Walters out of her shell. I’d probably be filing papers for some no name little place back in Albany if it hadn’t been for you.”

Of course there’s no way to know that for sure, but I certainly didn’t have the confidence that it takes to get up and own a courtroom like I tend to do before I gained the She-Hulk side of me.

“And I may not have the sciencey know how to even begin to suggest to you where to start on helping to get you where you feel like you’re a help, and not a curse, but I know you do.”

Wrinkling my nose a little, at his talk of the Punisher, and what he’d done. I’d caught more than the highlight reel of that whole incident after all. Personal and professional interests. Of course.

“So I’ll do everything I can to help you work on that end. You can leave the system to me.”

Reaching over across my desk, I snag up one of my business cards, and a pen, deftly flipping it over to scrawl out an address and a phone number, in additon to the ones on the front that are for here at the office, before sliding it across the desk to him.

“Here. There’s a back entrance, you can get into the basement from the garden if you need. Just don’t trip on any of the massive piles of junk I’ve been too lazy to find a place for.”

If there’s one thing to be said for my townhouse (other than how cute it is, of course) it’s that there was plenty of out of the way places to stick my junk, where even I don’t have to look at it.

Bruce : She doesn't think of all this as a curse, but instead as a gift. At first, the truth is, I think she's saying it all for my benefit, but then I see the perkiness she holds. Maybe it did bolster her confidence, all of that power is sure something that a guy or gal could get used too. It's just that... she has so much control.

"Well, thank you, I think." Taking the card she offers with a nod, a smile that might actually not look forced, as well as rising to my feet again. "It's just that ..."

"Well it's difficult to explain. If it's it not a curse, if all it is.. is a matter of willpower? Then what does that say about me?" It says I'm a guilty, murdering, low-life, piece of shit, just like Frank Castle said I am, and it means that all the death is blood on my hands because I'm too weak to stop it.

I'd rather call it a curse. "Thank you for whatever help you can give me. I'll wait a few days before making contact again. You're being watched Jennifer. That's why I.. went to all this trouble to talk with you. They're waiting for you to lose it. So they can lock you away too. Even if the green-genes aren't a curse, what I've done to you -is-."

For a second or two it looks like I'm on the very of hugging little Jennifer, except that I realize what I've just said, so I palm the card into a grubby pocket. Then I'm heading for the door. "If you need to find me, I'll be staying in a little place out in Soho. My friends in Canada have it for a snow-house, they're letting me lay low there."

Jen : “I’ve also never been kicked out of a helicopter, or any number of the other things I’ve seen you being put through by other people. I’m willing to bet money you didn’t volunteer for any of those things.”

Already there’s cases, precedents swirling through my head, examples I could try to bring up to try to levy some sort of defense for him, even if we’re likely not anywhere near that sort of thing. It never hurts to think ahead.

“It could very well be a difference of ‘upbringing’ I guess you could call it. Situations shaping us into what we are. Doesn’t mean we have to stay that way.”

For all I know, if I were put in his shoes? I might have ended up the exact same way. And maybe he’d be calmer, gaining more control than he’s been able to have if he hadn’t been in them.

“I am? Well. I’ll make sure to put on a good show for them. It’ll be great entertainment, just entirely unsatisfying for them if that’s what they’re wanting to achieve from it.”

I forsee hours of someone having to watch me watch Nick at Night reruns. Alllll night long. I’m sure I’d have a lot more fun with that than whoever the sap is that’s doing the surveilling. Bruce may have had second thoughts against a hug, I however, didn’t, and I’m sliding out of my desk chair to walk him to the door. And deliver that sentiment.

“Okay, I’ll remember. And that’s my cell number. It’s always on, and I promise I won’t be too cranky if you do need to call me anytime. Even if it is some ungodly early hour of the morning.”

Nico Minoru : Well Wishing

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 02:08:10 GMT

Nico : Once again, it’s time for me to visit folks that were hurt because of me, friends that I don’t want to be hurt because of me. Not that I would ever want anyone to be, I have a hard time even hurting folks that are about to do it to me first. It just seems to happen a lot lately. And even if it might be argued that this was in no way my doing? I am very good at logically working myself around into proving that it was. Jenny had helped me, cleansed the staff, cleansed me. And it had been draining, so when she tried to help Maggie? Or whatever it was exactly they were doing…

See? My fault. Even if I hadn’t been convinced that it was all my doing, I still would be making this visit though, and still be carrying my armload like I am now. A bowl of carnations. They’re nice, they last by far the longest of cut flowers. I have no idea why but, well. They do.

Shifting the arrangement to one of my hips, an impatient blowing of air to try to shift some loose black hair out of my eyes while I knock on Jenny’s door.

Jenny : Knocking on the door? Well, that eliminates a number of people off the bat. Stick just lets himself in. So does Bobbi. Caretaker would probably just knock the door over with his shovel, and demand a sarsaparilla or something. Strange would just appear. Cuts the culprits down quite a bit, especially when I peek through the little view thingie in the door, then open the door up for Nico.

"Heya Nico, sup? Flowers? For what?" Tilting my head, I shrug, but I'll take them from her. And uh.. I guess put them on the counter that seperates the kitchen from the living room.

"Want something to drink?" Me? I'll grab a bottle of flavored water from the fridge for myself, since I'm over that way.

The place is.. cleaner then usual. Really clean, in fact. Everythings organized, almost as if I was looking over all of my possessions, and trying to decide if I really wanted to keep most of it, or if I was contemplating a move sometime soon.

Nico : “For.. you.”

I’m a little confused by her confusion. But. Maybe I was misinformed? She doesn’t really look any worse for the wear. Not like folks looked the last time we all had a big mishap.

“Bobbi said. Or. I thought she said. That you and Maggie weren’t feeling so…hot. I have some I was going to take to her, too. I mean, I guess if I’m wrong I can still give them out anyway. I’ve got enough at home of my own.”

I still let her take the flowers either way. I did buy them for her, even if it wasn’t maybe for the reason I was figuring on.

“Um, one of those looks good actually, thanks Jenny.”

Pushing the door closed behind me, brown eyes give a flick around the room. Hmm.

“Not to sound rude or anything, or imply that your room is messy normally..”

Since I don’t have much room to talk with the state of mine. I just keep it behind the one door at least.

“But it looks like you’ve been busy.”

Jenny : "I spent a few days in the hospital, yeah. Maggie's still in the hospital, for who knows how long." Taking a sip of my water, before dropping into the recliner. Andy's rousing in his cage to peer at Nico, chitter at her some, before he bounces around. Not getting the attention he wants, he just curls back up to nap.

"I'm better now. It was more life-force that needed healing, then broken bones sort of deal." Shifting in the chair a bit to get comfy, while I look around my own place. Blue eyes peering at the clean floors and organized stuff.

"Yeah. I've been watching for a decent deal on a town house, looking to move. I need more space. And it's okay, you can admit that my place normally looks like crap. I admit it, and I live here." A grin and a soft laugh. "Too many clothes. They barely all fit in the dresser and closet."

Nico : “Oh, hi Andy. Sorry, didn’t say hello to you properly.”

I’m so used to my own house companion (or at least the animal one) and his complete act of indifference towards guests until he deigns to go sit on them and make them pay attention. Uncapping my own bottle, I take a sip while I make my way over to the sofa.

“Oh. That’s actually pretty good. I haven’t had one of those before.. but. Well. I’m glad to hear you’re better. I was kinda worried. Bobbi just. Showed up ninja style on me while I was heading in for dinner and gave me the news. So I didn’t know what had happened. Or how badly hurt you were.”

And I drug my feet a little since then, in coming, just because I felt so badly about the whole thing.

“Maybe some boxes? Mine would be worse than it is, but when I hit the road, I could really only take with me what would fit in the car. So I trimmed out a lot of the stuff that I didn’t figure I’d really actually be wearing again. Any neighborhood particular you’re looking at? I can keep watch too. There’s some down the street from my place, but they never seem to open up ever.”

Maybe they’re rent controlled. Who knows.

Jenny : "It could've been worse. No one died at least."

I just sip from my water, while frowning a bit, then shrug. It's not an entirely pleasant topic to talk about.

"I tried to cleanse her, it backfired. Kicked my ass, and comatose'd Maggie. Not sure when she'll wake up, or if she's awake yet or not, or what. I should go visit her, I suppose, but I don't think I'm beyond my urge to tell her 'I told you so' yet, and being a bitch."

I fiddle with one of my bracelets a little, before tossing her a grin. "Nah, just looking for a place that'll keep me within a half hour commute to ESU for when classes kick back up soon. That and I like nicer neighborhoods." A quirk of my lips. I don't like to have to worry about getting hassled when I'm coming back from a night of clubbing, or something.

"So how'd you rationalize this as being your fault, anyway?" Smirking at her.

Nico : “That’s a pretty good standard to go off, really. It used to be our motto, back in Chicago. ‘Just don’t die.’”

We were all just kids, I mean, what hope did we really think we stood for much in the way of degrees of success against more than a dozen ‘super villains.’ So as long as well came out alive any given day, I know I was ‘happy.’ Or as much in the direction of happy as I ever really seemed to be.

“I’ve got experience hanging out in hospital with comatose folks. It’s not going to be anything horrible for me to go try and sit with her, or anything. Maybe the flowers’ll make her wake up. Before they wilt.”

Again, the advantage of long lasting cut flowers, right? That or replacing them with better looking ones. If it takes that long. But I hope it doesn’t.

“I can always call you and tell you when she’s up? Give you time to repress the urge. Or to put it.. um. Nicely I guess. And nice neighborhoods, that’s understandable.”

Mine’s not too bad but there’s some nights where there’s shady characters hanging around. And I’m pretty sure they’re not all there for me, even.

“…um…wh..I didn’t..say that.”

But my eyes drop to the bottle of water, and I’m scratching the back of my head absently. Caught. I didn’t even have to say anything, I suppose. Guess my friends are getting to know me well enough. So I just sigh.

“It’s a pretty good and lengthy train of thought, actually. Cliff’s notes version?”

Jenny : "Not dying is usually a good goal to have most of the time. Can't learn from mistakes if they kill you."

Sipping my water again, then I just shake my head a little. "I don't think there's a nice way to put it. It was my fault more than hers, but until she admits that she made a mistake, I'm going to be in UberBitch mode towards her."

Some would say being in the hospital was payment enough, but that was magics payment. I'll take my own, in the form of an admission from her. Then I can go back to being 'happy' Jenn.

"You didn't really have to say it. You're kinda easy to predict, Nico. All your fault, huh? You didn't have anything to do with that, so blaming yourself for it's pretty pointless. If you want to, hey go right ahead, but it's still pointless and a waste of your emotional energy. I could blame a bird that flew overhead as much as you can rightly blame yourself in any way."

Nico : “See, we weren’t even thinking of the learning from our mistakes part. We just didn’t really want to die.”

But what teenager ever really thinks that they’re going to die ever? Well. Maybe me. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had that thought numerous times over the last couple years.

“I hope you guys can sort it out then, however it ends up happening. And go back to being well. Us.”

I’m not going to say go back to being normal. Though I suppose with the qualifier of normal for us it might fit.

“It’s. Kind of my thing, I guess. Isn’t it? I just can’t help thinking it, no matter how many times you’ve said it, how many times Miles has, or Bobbi. It all goes back to me and my parents, in my head. You wouldn’t have had to cleanse anyone, nothing would have been there to go wrong, no one would have been hurt in whatever sense of the word you want to go with in the first place.”

And my parents laugh at me in my sleep, and just put it further and further into my mind. Shrugging a bit, I take another sip of my bottle of water.

“People telling me it’s not the case never really manages to stop my mind from convincing me otherwise.”

Jenny : "Us?"

I just tilt my head a little. "You can't always count on everyone getting along, Nico. Especially not people like us. There's bound to be personality flare ups between strong willed people. Sometimes you get past them, sometimes you don't."

I'm not going to ascribe myself to playing nice with anyone, just to make others happy.

"Hey, look at it how you want too. It's not true, but that's something you have to figure out yourself." I shrug, and wave a hand. Dismissing that conversation, then glance over towards the door and my jacket.

"Wanna go get some food?"

Nico : “Maybe ‘us’ isn’t the right word but. The makeshift group we’re all sort of part of, whether we want to be or not I suppose. Back to whole. The getting along I don’t really expect. I lived with all my friends while we were on the run for a bit. And I don’t think there was a day where we all got along, or agreed, but we hung together anyway.”

Fiddling with the cap of my drink, screwing and unscrewing it, over and again while Jenny talks. I manage to at least relax my shoulders eventually, so they’re not hunched up semi-defensively around my ears.

“I know. I do, Jenny. It’s just hard to get that through my head. Food?”

Following her eyes to the door.

“Darnit. That’s the magic words, and you know it. Dinner sounds like a good idea to me.”

Tara McKinley : Seaside Manners

Tue, 31 Jul 2007 00:53:12 GMT

Tara : Wind and rain, what else was there to expect? Not much, actually. If it’s not one, or the other, it’s both, after all. There’s no longer much of any surprise to be had when it comes to the local weather. Not to say there has been for years. You learn pretty quickly upon arrival what it is you have to expect out of this place, and it never fails to disappoint. That’s what you get for being on a little island in the ocean, or more specifically, in the northern portions of the ocean.

If Muir were somewhere closer to the tropics? Well. There would probably be the opposite problem of having difficulty getting students to come in out of the weather. I never have to worry too much about company out here, except a very select few. Either they’re not brave enough to come out in the crummy weather, or they’re too smart for it. I, personally, tend to believe it’s the former.

Because of course stupidity has absolutely nothing to do with the state of my hair, and clothes, and how sopping wet I am. And really, the rain and whipping wind is only part of the problem. Most of the large amount of moisture on my clothes comes thank to the ocean, which is not obeying me nearly as nicely as it did the day our last guest arrived. No nice little peaks of controlled waves, no. They are moving, but more to spite me, than for me, the number of times it’s erupted upwards into a fountains of cold salt water is getting increasingly irritating for me. I took my coat off, discarding it over one of the dock’s jutting pieces of wood. It was doing not enough good, damp as it is, at this point to bother with keeping it on.

If nothing else, it’s a slightly more comfortable seat than just the wooden boards. Slightly. For my elbows at least, it’s padding, supporting my chin propped up in my hand, while I level a glare at the water. Even if it’s been the expression on my face for a fairly solid amount of time. The water’s more difficult, because it’s not solid, and there’s so much of it, at least that’s the best I can figure for why it’s causing me so much trouble. Today at least. My other hand’s steadily rubbing at the skin on my arm, smoothing away the goose bumps that are trying, and pretty well succeeding, to form there.

I’ve settled into one of my modes, trial and error, until I can get it to the level of ‘right’ that I want it to be at. Some days, it takes longer than others, and this is already shaping up to be one of those longer times.

Shifting a bit, drawing my knees up to sit cross-legged, there’s a vaguely irritated gesture of me shoving wet, and curling red, red hair away from my eyes, trying to make it stay behind my ears. You’d think with it being mostly plastered down thanks to the rain, and sort of rain of seawater I keep causing with my antics, that it would stay put. The wind just keeps creeping it forward, more and more, into my eyes though. I’m fairly sure its purpose here is just to annoy me.

It’s doing its job, too. And marvelously, I might add, though I’d much prefer if it didn’t. That Katrin girl really ought to do something about it. I know I would, if that were my particular power set to mess around with. It’s not, though. And even I haven’t tried to bend mine to moving away all the clouds. See? There are limits to what I’ll give a try. And that just happens to fall outside of my line. At least right now it does.

Maybe it’s the new posture, hands braced on the edge of the pier, brightly painted nails curling around the wood, so I can get a good downwards stare going at the roiling water. Or maybe the additional, unirritated focus, now that there’s not red hair getting in my way. It starts to work again though, the bending of the water, pulling it upwards into higher curls below the dock’s surface.

The scowl on my face shifts, even as the water does, first neutral, and then curling up into one of my familiar smirks. Good. Much better.

You’d think the various natural components I screw with on a daily basis would just learn to cooperate with me. It means it’s that much shorter of a time before I’m satisfied and leave them alone.

If anyone were out here watching, I suppose there’d be a sigh of relief that I managed to turn abysmal failures into completing the little practice I’d set for myself without any outbursts, vocally or destructively. The docks are still standing, I didn’t drown myself, or whatever else might have gone wrong with me huddled up out here. No ancient evils had been erupted from the beach floor by my tinkering. No, the worst that had happened was I am pretty thoroughly soaked through, but since I was rain damp before I’d even reached the docks to begin with? That’s a pretty minor thing.

It’s not like I don’t have more clothes inside. Or a blow dryer for my hair. Though really, what sounds good to me, as I uncurl myself from around the edge of the dock, and rise to my feet with a little shudder, is hot chocolate. Or soup. Maybe both. Just something warm, is all. The sopping wet coat is snatched up once I’m no longer sitting on it, holding it away from me as I start to trudge my way back up to the facility. It’s definitely not going to make me any warmer, if I cling onto it. It’s just as wet as the rest of me is, and heavier for it. I suppose there’s always flying, but I know firsthand after Davis dumped me in the ocean? It’s much colder to do that than it is to walk.

Really though, with the wind already blowing in what feels suspiciously like it’s going through me, the extra air that flying faster would net me isn’t going to be that much of a difference. Since I’m puzzling over it while I’m moving though, by the time I’m settling on just speeding the rest of the way, well. I’m there. Pulling the door open with a shiver, I pause once I’m actually inside to tug off my shoes. I do at least possess some consideration, to not track mud all over the interior floors. They’re just bundled up inside my coat, so I don’t get the dirt on me. It’s all going to need a wash anyway.

Tara McKinley : Origami

Fri, 27 Jul 2007 02:24:14 GMT

Tommy : SWOOOOOOOOOOSH!

Red hair rustles slightly in the breeze as I sweep past Tara, to sound of air vacuum in my wake alerting her that it's no simple, typical, Muir gust of wind. Moments later, I'm at the end of the hallway, blocking Tara from entering the Gym. It's her favorite place, but for once I'm imposing myself between the she and her all important work outs.

Earlier today I spent my time, during which the two of us had various classes, writing notes to Tara. Ignoring most of the lessons. Now I hadn't actually given any of those notes to Tara, but I had spent quite a bit of time carefully folding all six of them in to intricate little Origami: A Dove, a Giraffe, a Swan, a Dog, a Cat, and a Starburst.

"Hi," my voice is soft, and I'm quietly avoiding the fact that I intend to cut her off. "Let's take a walk? I have something for you."

"Somethings, actually." One by one she'll be handed the little pieces of paper. Though as I hand her each one, there' s a little story involved. "According to the book I read, Origami is an ancient art of bringing the spirit out of the design. There is a belief that when you give life to the paper, it is as close as you can come to knowing the power of creation. Well.. for men that is. I bet the people who wrote my book didn't have a wife. Cause I know if my dad ever said that? My mother would have made him try squeezing my little brother through his penis."

"Even if my brother's 8. She still would have tried."

"Anyway. You can't open these all right now. ... the Dove encompasses hope. When you most need some hope, I want you to open the Dove. The Giraffe's long neck gives them the ability to look down on others, Natures little watchers. When you need some perspective... open that one." By this point I'm pretty sure she's got the idea behind each one.

Tara : I’m not much hurried, making way down to begin my work out. The gym’s not going anywhere, never has so far anyway, and there’s not usually anyone else in there to have to prevent from taking my space. Tommy blocking my way though? That’s something new. Usually he’ll come drop in and visit, maybe join me partway through if he wasn’t with me when I started. So there’s a red raised eyebrow, hand resting on one hip while I cross the rest of the distance to him. I don’t try to barge past though.

“Sure, handsome. Lead on.”

We’ve been spending a, well. Close to exorbitant amount of time together lately. Even so? I’m not going to say no to a bit more of it. My other hand’s tugged out of the pocket of my hoodie, balancing the little paper figures as he passes them over on my palm. The earn a little smile, they’re pretty, and I’m fairly certain I couldn’t make anything like that. I doubt I’d have the patience to fold up little papers.

“You know, my older brothers claim my Mom made a threat pretty similar to that when she was having my little brother. I have to take their word for it though, I wasn’t even two yet then.”

And frankly, they were probably making it up. Because the oldest of them? The twins were probably only six at most.

“But…”

The hand comes off my hip to slip around him, pulling Tommy closer to me so I can lean up to give him a kiss.

“..on a less painful sounding note, they’re darling, thank you Tommy. I think that’s probably the most thoughtful thing anyone’s given me.”

Even if I don’t know what they say inside now.

Tommy : The work on the small paper was really not time consuming. Not when you consider the actual passing of time like real people do. If you took one look at the wastebasket in my room though? Well it took me at least two notebooks worth of paper. The big notebooks. The ones with dividers. Like a few thousand sheets of paper. Tara's holding the cumulative death of a couple trees.

Yet it all passes without comment, I'm not looking to be rewarded for the time spent. Not when the time invested was time that I had to concentrate, like Pietro has taught me. Focus on a single thing. It was an 'investment', of time, that I consider worth every penny. It even came with a pretty nice rebate, of Tara kissing me. That's worth it.

'The walk' that I invited her on, is not done at a run, we have time to get there and stuff to talk about along the way. So I slow down for her. I walk at her pace, it always helps when arms are around one another's waist anyway.

"Dog is man's best friend, so when you need one of them, there it is. Cat's are needy little things, but so are people Tara. If there's ever a time that you feel lonely or even one of those times when you -need- someone other than me to be around? Well there you go."

"..but this one here." My hand lightly crosses between us to touch the starburst. "According to some philosopher's the old societies, like the Myans or Aztecs, believed that when a Goddess would especially bless a union, that a star would fall. It was considered a good Omen. So a starbust has over time, in some cultures, become the representation of 'true love'."

"Think you can open that one?" Even as I say that, I'm opening the door to the outside. Not surprisingly Muir is not going to give me that few rays of sunshine that I was hoping for.

Phantazia : When they exited the complex?

Crack Pop and hundreds of other little sounds will be there for their ears to pick up on. As for their eyes, when they direct upwards?

Arching explosions of radiation fill the air, bright explosive looking synapses of white-blue light, deep reds, light pinks, all crackling and sizzling at an altitude of a few hundred feet up in the air, each crack and flash of energy appearing to take form, or similar form, of what a star burst would look like.

Although there was no sign of view of the cause of said display, not that Tommy didn't know it since he'd asked for it, or that the redhead couldn't figure it out fairly easily.

Tara : I don’t really even mind the walking, I hadn’t started my workout, hadn’t begun to get warmed up and into the mindset where I wanted to move. Because once I get going? I don’t like to stop. It’s easy enough to keep up my gravity assisted resistance if I keep it on, and stable, and just pay attention to my running. But I haven’t, I’m just moving alongside Tommy, taking our time. Close like I’ve gradually gotten more and more used to being to him.

“I’ve been told I’d be more of a cat person anyway. Self-sufficient or whatever. I wouldn’t know. We… never had room for animals in the house. And Mom probably would have freaked out about the tiny potential for making Tor sick or something.”

Mostly though? Not enough room. The boys all shared a room, and I had my own, just because I was the only girl. It was more closet than actual room though.

“Yeah?”

He’s put a lot of thought into this, I can tell, even if it is just something he’d read up at some point in his whirlwind, speed absorbing of the library. And, well. It does mean a lot to me even if I’d be absolutely terrible at saying so. I always have been. There’s a moment where I’m biting the corner of my lip, eyes flicking between Tommy’s face, and the papers, before I carefully tuck all of the little figures into my sweatshirt’s pocket, except the one he’s asking me if I ‘can’ open.

It’s pried open slowly, I don’t want to rip it, even if I am taking the thing apart. When we step outside, I jump a little, at the sound, staring up at the brilliant display going on in the sky. I haven’t seen something like that in a long time, and I have a pretty good guess who’s responsible. Did he ask her to? More thought put in.

I make myself pull my face back down to the paper, flicking eyes across while I read it, fingers carefully picking up the little silver ring. I do know what the writing is talking about, I am from that culture after all, and even if I pretended I wasn’t interested in the whole thing growing up, I still remember. I’m just at a loss for my usual witty, snappy comebacks for the moment. So I just hold it out to Tommy, carefully in my hand.

“So, are you going to put it on me?”

My voice is quiet too, for once, but there’s a bright smile to make up for it.

“..I don’t have anything to give you though, Tommy.”

Tommy : The lead up was something that had taken some time, preparations made through all the wrong channels. The young woman who manipulates weather, well I couldn't really find her, as I had wanted her to clear the weather up. A day without rain would have been good for something of this nature, but when Phantazia caught me in the halls to ask what I was up too? I had to explain, and it all blurted out to her. So she offered to help.

...and here we are....

Worth every moment of embarrassment that had come from explaining the whole thing to a relative newb at the Island. However Phantazia was like someone I thought I'd known in a different line. Especially when it leads to Tara extending her hand with the ring in it.

My own hands super-speed 'jitter' in a nervousness when I reach for the tiny little ring. I wonder if she knows how many e-filings I had to do for this? All the same I pull it off her palm, and hold it up for her to see the starbursts through it.

"You just gave me something," because I don't need a ring, the fact that she is accepting one from me has 'given' me all that I needed anyway. "Maybe next year, I can get you something nicer. I asked Pietro for advice, but I was worried I would have to forge Moira's name on a loan if I did what he said."

Pushing the little .. bit of nothingness that is her ring upon her finger. "Handfasting, requires a small ceremony, Tara. Where we allow our friends to tie a small bind around our joined hands. Traditionally ... I thought perhaps we could actually hold one. Here. We never.. I mean.. all of us the whole island, we never do anything Happy."

"Besides, you'll be the center of attention."

Phantazia : The Explosions, and crackles of energy will die down as the two talk, changing from bright and star burst in nature, to just an almost "rain" of colored radiation falling from a few hundred feet up.

Dispersing before it even reached halfway to the ground, but it was a pretty enough sight. Even if no one was looking up by that point in time. It would continue for some moments, before even that faded. One could only assume the source of said show had also departed with the visible signs, once they came to an end.

Tara : “Don’t you dare, I like this one.”

As it is, it probably beats the value of my entire bangle and earring collection in some sort of exponential fashion, anyway. They were almost all things I found in thrift stores at home, or that I fashioned out of odds and ends. None of it was actually worth anything, let alone having been given to me like this ring.

“And I’d rather Moira didn’t murder you. I’m the only one allowed to do something like that, and I don’t really want to.”

I sit, or stand I suppose, still for him, while he slips the ring on my finger, admiring it, and the way the lightshow of Phantazia’s is sparkling off of it (we may have to con her into doing that more often, it’s a definite improvement over the usual appearance of the sky on the island. Or maybe I could just be greedy and enjoy it just for Tommy and me.

“A gathering where everyone has to pay attention to us?”

Us, not just me.

“Sounds lovely, Tommy.”

And then I’m throwing my arms around his neck and holding him close, so I can whisper an echo of what he’d written down for his ears alone. I guess there’s no one else close enough to hear. But still. Takes me a bit before I let go of my tight squeeze around him, to offer a little smirk.

“You realize this means you’ll have to meet my herd of a family. Because my mother will have a heart attack, and come to haunt me in my sleep if she’s not invited. Ordinarily I wouldn’t wish them on anyone but.. I like sleep.”

Tommy : Reward. This, all of this, is what makes everything I've done to get this together worth it. Tara's happy. Not just happy, she said the words in my ear. It's really all I can do not to say really dumb male things, so I do what -all- good men do in a time like this. I quote Han Solo, the ultimate ladies man.

"I know," with the most improbable child-like smirk on my face.

Even as I try to sound brave, I whisper them back to her, although my face is buried in fire-engine red hair that seems to have covered my entire head. In the very instant that Tara tried to part our embrace, I sneak right in to kiss her. She doesn't need to talk, and the smirk was only an unspoken invitation on her lips.

"I didn't think about that," which is quite an admission for me, 'not thinking about something' doesn't happen a lot. "I guess that means you have to meet my family too. If they'll come. You handle the invitations, I'll handle everything else, I'll make this perfect for you."

"Wait. Wait a minute, since when do you get to sleep? I mean.. not to brag or anything, but... it's kind of like reloading a gun, Tara, we steal a couple naps when ever we're not working, schooling or...ahem."

Tara : Even if I don’t get the fact that it’s a movie quote he’s speaking, well. That’s fine. Doesn’t change anything, so far as I’m concerned anyway. And I don’t even mind, nor do I pull any of my little fighting games with him to try and get away, when he doesn’t let me pull away from him, in order to let me have the kiss.

“They’d have to want to meet me. Or they’d be crazy. I won’t ding you points or anything for not thinking about mine though. My mother would have shown up somehow even if she was never told about it by me, she’s almost as bad as Moira on the omniscience thing. Only it’s only ever things you don’t want her to know about. Not that this is something I’d want secret.”

I’d have to tell Tor. I tell him everything. And he’d tell my Mom for me, if I didn’t, as some sort of punishment for me not including everyone when even I know I should have.

“It’ll be perfect no matter, Tommy. But I can handle that. You’ll just have to give me addresses you want any of them sent to.”

His response to my expression of ‘like’ for the act of slumbering though, that makes me tilt my head back and laugh.

“Napping is still sleep, darling. And if what little I do get was interrupted by a very large Irish woman clubbing me in the head with a spoon all night long? I’m going to get increasingly unpleasant to be around. And as resistant as you are to my bad moods? I don’t even want to subject you to that.”

Or more it’d be like the other day, when I was going on no sleep at all and trying to practice. It just didn’t end well for me, which I didn’t appreciate. I’m shaking my head a little, finishing my laughter, while I look up at the tail end of the lightshow.

“Y’know. I don’t feel like running much anymore. C’mon.”

Dropping my eyes back to his with a wicked little grin, before I latch onto Tommy’s hand and give him a tug back inside.

Tara McKinley : Late Night Warnings

Fri, 20 Jul 2007 09:03:36 GMT

Tara : At least I haven’t had to proof read anymore of Moira’s articles. As much fun as taking the marker to her work had been, I was getting extremely tired of reading the same words over and over and over. It’s bad enough to read through material once or twice for a class, let alone dozens of times over half a dozen drafts of someone else’s papers. Today? There’d been some for me to do, but not nearly as much. Not in the wake of Magneto showing up, and bringing a new head of Excalibur to the island. And Davis’ sister showing up, though compared to the other two she’s probably been pushed to the back of people’s minds.

At least I got her a room without a crummy roommate.

With work done for the day, I’d retreated to my room, to get some of my remaining homework before graduation worked on. Or that had been the plan anyway. I’d been keeping my eye on Tommy, like I’d been asked even if we might be taking the me supervising him a bit farther than was actually intended… but I’m enjoying the hell out of it.

It’s kind of late, but I sort of lost track of time. And it’s not like I’m wandering around at side (or that the hour would stop me from doing that if I wanted to). I’ve made my way down to the kitchen, a pair of baggy cotton pants and a short tank top that pass as my wandering around pajamas. I’m hungry, and it’s just a good a time as any to whip up something for us to munch on.

Zora : *When you're trying to locate someone, it seems to about be a rule to look in the kitchen. And sure enough, that's where I find Miss McKinley.*

"Good morning, Miss McKinley. Do you have a few minutes?"

Tara : “Morning?”

Glancing up from the fridge’s shelves, to squint at one of the windows.

“I didn’t think I was in there that long.”

I know full well it’s night time, even if it may rapidly be approaching morning. I’m just in a good mood, and letting it out in my conversation.

“Yeah, nothing else terribly exciting going on that I’m aware of. What’s up?”

Zora : "When you live on an island that seems allergic to sunshine, it gets hard to keep track."

*Moving in further, leaning slightly against one of the counters.*

"First thing - I wanted to apologize if my baring a blade near you the other day upset you. Though I must warn you that should a similar circumstance arise, I will arm myself again."

Tara : “So true. It’s either raining or not, and I suppose that’s enough distinction for most folks.”

I’m not much of a junk food snacker, except on a rare sort of occasion, so I’m pulling out fruit, some cheese. Hopefully there’s crackers in the cupboards. If not I guess I can make sandwiches. Little heavier than what I originally intended, but I know at least I’ll eat them.

“It didn’t, I didn’t think she was doing anything that warranted being stabbed at the moment, but you know. Your call.”

Zora : *Expression going unreadable as my dark eyes study Miss McKinley for a few seconds before responding.*

"Did I make any move to stab anyone? Should I remain unarmed in the presense of a heavily armed opponent?"

Tara : “No, but I don’t see any other reason why you would have pulled it, unless you had that intention. Isn’t there some saying about pulling a gun only if you’re actually meaning to fire it? Or was it like the father cleaning his shotgun in front of his little girls’ date sort of thing?”

Psylocke hadn’t been armed as far as I could tell, she was wearing a robe.

Zora : "Do you consider yourself defenseless right now, Miss McKinley? Or quite capable of either offense or defense as desired?"

Tara : “No, but I never considered myself defenseless before I had powers either, if that’s where you’re going to take this. I’m just saying. I’m the last person to try to tell anyone what’s what on antagonizing folks. But she wasn’t being hostile, at least I didn’t think she was, and I’m pretty sure she’s not stupid enough to try to assault you while she’s heading towards court for doing the same thing to my boyfriend.”

Zora : *A very faint smile at that.*

"I actually doubt many would consider you defenseless - and certainly not anyone that's actually met you."

*Considering briefly before continuing.*

"I take guarding the well-being of the students here very seriously, Miss McKinley. I will put forth to you the way my mind - such as it is - works. One - last I had heard from Miss Braddock was when she left the island with the stated intention not to set foot back here until the matter with Mister Shepherd had been resolved. Two - if the newspapers are to be believed at all, the pre-trial talk is not going as favorably as Miss Braddock might have expected with her bloodlines. Which means her father may not be as willing to whitewash this affair. Which also means this may be the first time in her life she'll have to face reprecussions for something like this."

"Three - I have unfortunately been around more than my share of less than honorable psis and can tell you from experience that the ones that are feeling backed into a corner are the most dangerous. I'm not worried about whether or not Miss Braddock is stupid enough to try anything. I'm worried about her being desperate enough to try anything."

"Recall that she made mention that night she left that she's killed with her mental powers before. Her weapons may be invisible just as yours are - but they're just as deadly as mine. Moreso, in many ways. My removing my blade from its sheath was simply a reminder to her that she wasn't the only person with deadly force available to her in the area."

Tara : “Well that’s very smart of them. Because I was throwing right hooks, and delivering ‘Irish Kisses’ long before the first time I showed my powers.”

Shrugging a bit, while I move to the cupboards to find a plate to put my haul on. Easier than carrying an armload upstairs, and makes for something to put fruit peels on afterwards.

“If she was that desperate, I’d think having a reminder that she was in danger would have prompted her to do something, rather than behaving herself. I’m not judging you for doing it. I’m just saying, and she might very well have cried self defense on this occasion, even it wasn’t the case. None of the telepaths I’ve ever met have done anything to me I’d consider hostile, but folks have different definitions. And I’ve killed with my powers, too. We’re all pretty well walking weapons on this island. I don’t think anyone ever really is going to forget that part.”

Zora : "You and Miss Braddock have one thing in common. Your powers rely on nothing physical. For me to use mine, I have to have something in hand. If she had decided to start something, I likely would not have had the opportunity to go for a weapon by the time I might have noticed."

*A small shrug.*

"I do tend to assume the worst from people. Then again, they normally tend not to pleasantly surprise me."

Tara : “Like I said, Zora. I’m not judging you for it, and you really didn’t need to apologize to me for it either, I’m just statin’ thoughts. They’re pounding into my head at work how to see how ‘the public’”

Complete with finger quotes being made, in between adding things to my plate of food.

“..sees things, apparently some of it’s actually sticking. Frankly, I don’t much care what many folks think, and somehow I kind of figure you don’t either.”

Zora : "The number of people whose opinion carries any weight with me is a very tiny number."

*A small frown.*

"Would you step outside with me for a moment, Miss McKinley?"

Tara : “What I thought. Sometimes there’s just not many folks that are worth caring for the opinions of.”

There are some, of course. I care what Tommy thinks of me, whether I choose to admit that to him, or to anyone else is another story. I care a great deal about what my youngest brother thinks of me, which is why he’s one of the few who is able to prod me into good behavior without much work on his part.

“Uh, sure.”

Not going to bitch and complain about it being cold out, and my lack of much warm clothing, because it’s not like we’ll be out there warm, and I can get toasty inside again. Stopping my foraging, and turning to make for the doors out.

Zora : *Taking us a decent distance from the building.*

"I'm trusting your morals on this, Miss McKinley. I want to tell you something just so you have a true idea of what you might have to fight against one day, but I would prefer this knowledge be kept to yourself."

"I told you that I've had experience with less than honorable psis. Psis.... I won't lump them all together except in this way. When they go bad, they're about the worst mutant to have to deal with. Ones with the right talents and lack of morals can go in, alter things and then wipe out their tracks on the way out so that you don't know what they did. Until its too late."

"In my case, I was forced to leave behind a husband who thought I had died and go off into a god-forsaken part of the world to do a job for them. I had no choice. It was one of the most maddening things I ever experiened - being trapped within my own mind."

"I'm honestly not trying to make you or Mister Shepherd paranoid. But if you don't know what they're capable of, it's that much easier for them to do it. He's got good built in defenses, but that doesn't mean one of them couldn't use someone around him to get at him. And I'm not just talking about Miss Braddock here."

Tara : Wrapping my arms around myself, in a semi-sort of hug, I follow Zora out, padding carefully along the ground until we get to the point she wishes to stop at.

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to make me paranoid.”

I’m far too self-assured and convinced of my own invincibility for that, after all. It’s unlikely I’d be paranoid even if I really ought to be cautious about something.

“And if anyone comes and tries to mess with Tommy now, well. They’re going to have to deal with me, and I’m apparently a huge pain in the ass when I’m riled.”

I’ve got what I put Moira through for harming someone I loved, even if it was for an excellent reason, in the future as reference. They always say that future may not happen, but I don’t think that facet of my personality is really a learned one.

“I’m sorry they did that to you. I appreciate the warning either way.”

Zora : "That's what I wanted to hear. Give them hell if they try, Miss McKinley."

*A small shrug.*

"I'm far from the only one the bastards screwed. At least I was stubborn enough or lucky enough to survive it. Let's get you inside again before I have a real problem. Namely explaining to Doctor MacTaggert why I made you catch cold."

Tara : “Oh I don’t think they know what they’ll be getting themselves into, if they do.”

Rubbing one of my arms, to try to ward off the rapidly formed goosebumps, there’s still a smirk on my face, unmistakable even in the dark. I know some folks have morals or whatever against hurting their opponents, or at least hurting them so badly as to cause permanent or fatal damage. I don’t. If someone starts something? They better be prepared for what they’re going to get back. I had killed the man in the Chalk and Cheese, pounded another one’s head into the floor until he quit moving, and not felt one moment of remorse over it. Ever. They’d touched me when it wasn’t welcome, were trying to murder Josh. They deserved everything and more of what they’d been dealt.

“Oh please. I’ve been out here longer and not managed to get sick yet. I’m pretty resilient.”

Doesn’t mean I don’t’ turn around and head back inside though.

Zora : "Never said you weren't, Miss McKinley. But where explaining things to Doctor MacTaggert is concerned, better safe than sorry."

Nico Minoru : Happy Birthday

Tue, 17 Jul 2007 01:11:20 GMT

Dear Book,

It’s been a long time, I know. You’ll forgive me though, I know, being a semi-full book of pages, and not really any sort of sentient being. If you were Rasthmus, it’d be another story entirely, but he’s a cat. It’s in his nature to make me suffer for my mistakes, up until its completely his idea to come and give out the affection. But you’re book, you’ll get over it. You always do.

I’ve gone far too long on talking about your feelings though Book. It’s not that I haven’t anything good to write about. Or bad, as things seem to go increasingly more. There’s lots, actually. I just haven’t remembered to dig you out from under the bed. Maybe because I’m pretty sure Chase knows where I’ve got you hidden, and don’t need him reading my emo woe is mes. That’s mostly what it would probably be.

I had the dream again last night. I’m blowing out the candles on my cake. It was My Little Pony, which means I must have been five or so. My mother and father are there of course, no one else since I never met any of my grandparents, and they’re both only children. When I make a wish, do my huff and puff though, everything starts to melt like the wax on the candles. The table cloth, my purple pony cake, the walls, and my parents, leaving laughing skeletons when it all sloughs off. I’m about to receive a bony hug that somehow I know would make me melt just like everything else.

That’s when I always wake up. Every time. I’d like to stop having the dream, and get my full night’s sleep for once. Maybe if I lay off the chips and candy before bedtime it wouldn’t happen. I’ve heard eating before you crash for the night can do weird things to you. At this point? I just hope my blowing out candles tonight doesn’t end the same way.

I’m mostly writing now, because I’ve gotten gotten ready too quickly. I’ve got time yet before I’m supposed to meet my friends to go out and celebrate. I’m looking forward to that much at least. It’s nice to feel like a normal kid every once in a while, even though I’m now irreparably beyond that point. I haven’t been a normal kid for nearly three years. I don’t think I even qualify for kid-dom anymore, either. Not after everything.

Here’s to another year, Book. And our motto, as we used to say back in Chicago. “Try Not to Die.”

- N 7.16.07

Tara McKinley : Late Night

Thu, 12 Jul 2007 09:39:01 GMT

Tara : Literally the only thing going my way today? The fact that the rain still hasn’t started. I keep waiting for it, telling myself that if it starts, I’ll have to go in at least to get my jacket. And then probably some food. Except, well. I know better than that. Even if I hadn’t spent a great deal of time under Pete Wisdom’s tutelage, with the always hanging threat that if I ever came inside before I’d done something perfectly I’d be peeling potatoes in the kitchen for the rest of the night, I wouldn’t have allowed myself to go in until I’d accomplished what I was going for.

And so I’m huddled under the tree, in mostly the same position I’ve held all afternoon and into the sun setting towards darkness. I’d gotten up and paced around a bit, but in general, I’ve stayed put, knees drawn up to my chest while I glare at my props over the tops of them, arms folded around my legs.

I’d resisted all attempts of my mind, and a few outside, to get me back in. I’m not finished out here. If I can pull it off a few more times… at this point though and the amount of effort I’ve put into all my practicing today, and the initial lack of sleep? It’s getting more and more difficult.

Zora : *Tara being in the same place twice as I make my rounds is unusual, but not unheard of. This is different though. From the first time I caught sight of her until now? Literal hours. And curiousity is a demanding thing.*

"Miss McKinley."

*Not questioning. Curiousity or not, if it appears she was after privacy for thinking, I'll leave her be.*

Tara : Even if I had been listening for someone coming, I wouldn’t have heard them. I’m too busy trying to concentrate. Hearing someone who moves like Zora? No hope at all. My head snaps around, the makeshift braid I’d knotted my hair into whipping, as I turn towards the voice.

“Oh, hey Zora.”

I take the opportunity of the distraction of someone talking me to stretch, arms going above my head in a spine curling arch, flexing out my knees where they’d begun to get stiff from hours of sitting still in the cold.

“What time is it?”

Late, I know. It’s dark, so obviously.

Zora : "Past the generally recognized curfew. Mind if I ask what's going on here?"

*Looking from where she had been sitting toward her objects then back to her.*

"The Doctor didn't put you out, did she?"

Tara : “Nah, I haven’t done anything in the last week in comparison to all the other things I’ve done that she hasn’t kicked me out for.”

Pushing myself up off the ground, dusting palms off on the backs of my jeans once I’m there. Squinting up through the trees to look for, I dunno, the moon? Stars? Not that I’d have any clue how to tell what the time is from that.

“That late? I didn’t mean to be that long. I’m having a fight with gravity, and I’m not going back in until I win.”

Zora : "Gravity has an age advantage, you know."

*Finding myself a tree to lean against, watching her.*

"What exactly is it that you are attempting?"

Tara : “Yeah, sometimes the young’ve gotta challenge the ancient though.”

I feel. Better now that I’ve stood up and the blood had to get flowing a little more freely. I’m still pretty well exhausted, mind, but it’s a small improvement over a few moments ago.

“Nothing I haven’t done before, making a big object. Like that tree there. Attract all the small objects around it. So it’s doing all the pulling, instead of the earth pulling downward. I don’t…”

Usually have this hard a time of it, but I don’t really want to say so.

“… I can do it perfectly. I’ve done it before. So I’m keeping on keeping on until it’s there tonight as well.”

Zora : *A slow nod, looking to the tree.*

"Think back to the last success. Then tell me three things different between then and now."

Peter : I was busy working on various projects. But nothing ever came together. I'm still suffering from a lack of inspiration. With Elisabeth more or less gone from the island given the touchy subject of psionics... I've had a lack of things to do.

And idle hands are the devill's playthings.

I was watching from a window as Tara was playing with her powers. Learning. I saw Silver Fox too. So I tugged on a shirt and put on my hat and wandered out.

"Hello Zora, Tara." I give a firm nod. Never saying too much.

"I hope you do not mind if I watch and observe." It would seem rude of me to just show up.

Zora : *A glance and light nod in Peter's direction.*

"Mister Rasputin. No... I don't."

Tara : “Well..”

Tugging the ends of my sleeves back down over my hands once more, it wasn’t this long on purpose, but it it’s certainly working to keep fingers warm out here better than I thought.

“I’d had more than three hours of sleep.”

And I hadn’t already had a run, an hour with the punching bag, some time on the weights, but I’m not going to make excuses for why I can’t do something. I either can or can’t, any factors that might actually be making the difference don’t matter tome.

And more company, as Peter comes out onto the grounds to join us.

“Hey Mr. Rasputin, nope, don’t mind at all.”

Now I’ve got an audience. Which means I’m going to have to push even harder to make my powers work, or get exponentially more irritated when they don’t.

Zora : "That was one."

Peter : I give a small nod and take a seat, pulling my knees up to my chest. Eying the two women.

It was nice to see additional students learning their powers.

Tara : I pull a bit of a face that my answer wasn’t sufficient, apparently. Even if she’s right, I did only give one, when she’d asked for three.

“I hadn’t already worked out every other part of me there is to work out until I was worn out.”

And Tommy had been there watching, giving out the praise when I pulled off what I was aiming for, and to help with coming up with ideas I certainly never would have. I’m not going to verbalize that one, though. I’ve done this same thing without him there before, as well.

“And. I don’t know. It wasn’t this damn late.”

I’ll have to be more careful as well. I’d already lost control once today, with a resulting shower of pinecones and leaves which thankfully? Much softer than rocks to the skull. My reasons for practicing alone are usually for that reason exactly, so if I do make a mini-disaster? No one else is going to get hurt, and I won’t get in even more trouble.

“Can’t sleep, Mr. Rasputin? Or are you one of those night owl sorts?”

I’m actually already trying to get my powers going again right now. The two companions I’ve gained out here likely wouldn’t know that though, other than I’ve begun once again glaring at my pile of pinecones. Because they aren’t moving at all.

Zora : "From your tone, Miss McKinley, I believe we are looking at this from two different views. I'm not trying to find why you aren't able to do it now. I want to know why you were able to do it then. If you see the difference."

Peter : "I have trouble sleeping at night." Usually bad dreams. Dreams about my past. Things that bother me.

I usually put those dreams on a canvas, but not now.

"I find watching people helps my mood." That way I don't feel so alone, while at the same time not saying too much. I'm rather quiet.

Tara : “I know the difference, I’m just not picking one out. I’m going about it the exact same way I always do. Just today..”

A highly annoyed flick of my hand at the non-moving pile of objects. It’s not that it hasn’t worked all day. I’ve off and on had successes, some more spectacular than others. But I’m not satisfied with accomplishing something once. Once could be a fluke (well, obviously not from me, since I’m good and it’s never just a fluke). My usual goal is ten in a row. I’d decided a long time ago that’d be a good number, no matter what it is exactly that I’m practicing. Football, testing my powers, whatever.

“… I guess my tank just thinks its running on empty. I don’t happen to agree.”

It just means I may, for once, have to settle for small successes, instead of large and fancy. Or else at this rate I really will be out here all evening. And I’d like to spend some time with Tommy before I crash out for good. It’s a few more tries, with absolutely no outward signs of me doing anything at all, beyond a clenching of fists, and a tightening in my jaw. Eventually though, one of the larger pinecones zips with a pretty good amount of speed from its pile to one of the adjacent trees, off that one to another, and then another, and a fourth, before I pause, letting it stay there stuck unnaturally against the bark.

“Well, watch away then. I like showing off for an audience. Ever tried reading a book? I can’t sleep without one.”

Peter : "I'm reading the Metamorphosis." I give a nod. Kafka. Interesting story.

"But it doesn't help me sleep at night." I even watch my television, but I just stare and watch.

Zora : "Hm."

*Just watching silently then for a bit before my next comment.*

"Do me a favor then. Try to take note of what is going on when a success occurs. Some things cannot be controlled, but others factors could be worked on. You're a good runner. But you don't just start cold and still run as well as you do if you take the right steps first. Like stretching out your muscles. There may be a mental variation of stretching that works like a warmup for your powers that you're doing some days without even realizing it."

*A glance toward Peter.*

"I probably couldn't help there. I've never gotten more advanced that counting sheep as a sleep aid."

Betsy : I haven't made a big show of my precense, for the most part I've remained out of sight and even while with company, I don't speak about the trial or the charges or anything pertaining to Thomas' stupidity which has raised world wide paranoia. There's other stupid moves on his part but I think I'd rather just let it all trickle down and fall in his lap. He'll realise what has been done eventually. Me? I'm not too concerned. I doubt I'll even be convicted and it may be at loss of my current position but I somehow doubt Daddy would kick me out of the organization completely.

I want to go back out on the field. I need to work again, I need to get away from this madness.

I slinked outside, wrapped in a robe and squinting and pushing my fingers through my hair. Where did Peter run off to? He wasn't exactly finished with me.

Peter : I'll briefly turn towards Elisabeth. Blinking slowly.

"I suppose you can not sleep either." I say plainly. Then glancing to Tara.

"I was just watching her practice."

Tara : “That’s one I haven’t read. Maybe have to give it a shot. Probably more ..challenging than my bedtime reading.”

I do actually like to read. But only when it’s my own idea, something I’ve just decided I want to do, rather than as an assignment for one of my classes.

“Hmm. Yeah. You’ve got a point.”

Wrinkling up my nose for a moment, before I send the cone back across to where it had started again. You never go running without stretching, it’s asking for a pulled something or other, especially with how hard someone like me works themselves. I had just launched right into this particular exercise today, without a few run throughs of the things I never have any problem with. Maybe that would have made the difference. At this point? I’m just tired.

“Look who’s back.”

An upward nod of my head towards Betsy, as she comes wandering up. In. A robe? There’s not really any malice in my voice. I’m on my boyfriends’ side, of course, but. She’s never done anything directly to me, and I enjoyed the simulations she’d run. Of course, if I witness her getting into it with Tommy again, it might be another story. For now, however, I’m pleasant as well..as I ever manage to be.

Betsy : "In this case, I didn't quite mean to fall asleep, luv. Sorry about that."

I get on my toes to kiss his cheek in appology and then cast a nod to Tara and Zora. Regardless of being persona non grata I'm not exactly going to completely shy away from being on the island at all to finish up my other business. Essentially, I'm here for Peter.

"For a bit. Thanks, Tara."

Zora : *One of my blades moves smoothly from its sheath to my hand. I should speak to Moira about the sensitivity of the alarm systems.*

Peter : "Modelling is not easy. Staying in one position in place for hours at a time is boring. But I finished your face and upper torso and started on your thighs before you were out." I shrug.

I motion to Zora.

"Zora, please. She is not here with hostile intentions." Despite my opinion over the psionic debate, I am still a protector of all on Muir Isle.

"Please, sheathe your blade..." I say politely. But with respect towards Silver Fox. I do not want to cross her.

Betsy : This is the point where I tend to ignore the irrational behaviors of others and get myself comfy under Peter's arm and against his side. If she was going to stab me, she should have done so already. It's rather pointless to stand there posing with it.

"It's not the kind of modeling I'm used to. I'm used to walking or moving a little bit more. Did you point the drool too?"

Zora : "Bullshit."

*The blade remains drawn as I move to leave.*

"One warning that I will not bother to repeat. Do not go within sight of Mister Shepherd or attempt any form of communications with him."

"Good night, Miss McKinley. Mister Rasputin."

Tara : I’m doing my best to ignore the hostility between Zora and Psylocke. Because I’ve hit my halfway mark, and I really don’t need to lose focus, which is exactly what that would do. I’m riled and tired enough as it is.

“What, are you painting her picture?”

Painting…I just don’t have the patience for. Photography is another story completely though. But. With that, if you know what you’re doing? It’s a quick click and you’re set, instead of hours spent on one piece.

My eyes haven’t left the hovering object, even while I speak, because I’m hauling it up through the air, higher into the tree it was perched against. And then across once again, to attach itself to another. That one? Close. I thought I felt it slipping. Which really would have been the end of my rope for the night. But. It made it. Zipping down once more, through the gathering of people, I bring it to a stop a few inches above my hand.

“Night Zora. Thanks for the brainstorming.”

Peter : "Yes. I painted it titanium white."

I eye her, then Zora. If I have to protect Elisabeth I will. But I would prefer not to stirr the black ops woman to violence.

"Yes, she hired me to do a portrait of her." And I'm an artist. An artist works on art.

"Good night, Zora." I give a polite nod.

Betsy : And I promised myself I wouldn't even drag myself in the middle of those hostilities. I can't speak to him, speak about the trial or anything anyways. It would harm me in court and I'm only here for a session of painting anyhow. It's better I say nothing at all to Zora and I'm content not to. The threat is noted, I may mention it to Moira.

"He paints beautifully."

Tara : “I’d sure hope so. He is the art teacher.”

I guess not all art teachers have to be spectacularly skilled in all mediums but.. you kind of tend to assume, at least with painting being a sort of standard way to work. I guess I always figured art teachers could always paint and sketch, maybe ceramics. Or maybe if you’re really good at relaying lesson plans you don’t need to actually do it yourself. I’ve never tried to teach anyone else how to photograph the way I do. I really wouldn’t know.

“How long do portraits usually take you? Depend on size?”

Releasing the field around the pinecone finally, I let it drop, catching it on the top of one shoe, before giving a little hop, and kicking it away with the other. I’d really like all this crap to settle down. Moira still owes me a football sim.

Peter : "Thank you, Elisabeth." It's nice to see my work's appreciated.

"It does depend on size. She wanted a large portrait done. It requires more detail than a facial portrait." I nod slightly.

"I was hoping Elisabeth would not find Zora." I was not prepared to stop the two from fighting, and I don't want to anger Zora, knowing she could do all sorts of things to me without me even able to armor up.

"How is your training coming?"

Betsy : "I didn't exactly intend to find her. I thought spending most of the day and evening in your room would be suffieciently avoiding everything and everyone. Then I stepped out for air."
I shrug. I tried at least but I suppose I wasn't entirely successful.

"It's a gift for someone. I'm not so vain to hang my own portrait on my mantle."

Tara : “Kind of a silly hope. Given where we are, anything possible that’s going to cause uprisings is going to happen. It’s an effect that rolls in with the perma bad weather.”

Scuffing my sneakers in the leaves and needles littering the ground. Most of them were probably there thanks to me. But they would have fallen eventually on their own anyway.

“You beat me then, I’d totally hang a picture of myself up, if I ever took any. It’s usually me with the camera though. Trainings. Well. Apparently all I needed was all you guys to show up. Started going better than when it was me and my little glaring match with nature.”

Maybe because it’s easier to make myself focus, force myself into things, when there’s actually other people there to see if I fail.

Peter : I give a nod, but don't ask who the gift is for. That is of course her business.

"I have various works of art in my room. Family portraits. Like Illyana."

Betsy : "That's why I have my old magazine covers framed and up around my flat! But a large scale painting? That's just too much. Nature might win out if you keep glaring though. She might possibly laugh in your face too."

I give Peter a hug before sliding out from under his big protective arm. It did feel rather safe. I do feel that I need to keep myself under control and defending myself would hurt myself more than help. It's very irritating right now.

"I should get dressed and possibly go harass Moira."

Peter : I'll give Betsy a small pat and a hug. Then give her a nod.

"If you do decide to harass the good Doctor, please be civil even if she prefers not to be." I give a nod.

"This will be behind us in time."

Tara : “Did you do all of them yourself? Or are some from other folks?”

My walls are literally plastered with photos I’ve taken, though there’s a few that were courtesy of my little brother. The vast majority however, all my own work. I never get tired of looking at things I’ve done well, after all.

“She’s still up I’m sure, grumbling in her little hole in the basement about what the rest of the PR team suggests for her to do. I’d say bring her down a fresh cup of coffee. Peace offering, or whatever.”

Giving another nearby pinecone a kick away as well, I push my hands into the pockets of my jeans. I’m cold. Understandably with how long I’ve been out, and I’m about as tired as I’ve felt in recent memory.

“I better go to bed. Before they do actually send someone out here to drag me back in.”

I don’t actually have any intention of going to my own room just yet, though. If Tommy’s window isn’t still open for me to fly my way through, there’s always knocking.

“Goodnight guys.”

Tara McKinley : Gifts

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 03:49:34 GMT

Tara : There’s not many people out there that would get bent out of shape and irritable over receiving a gift, especially not to the degree that I had gotten yesterday. It’s not that I don’t like getting stuff, I mean, on many an occasion I’ve been tickled pink (just the saying, since tickling tends to make me more red than anything) over a present. This one though, well.

I’ve got slightly screwed up, and contradicting ideals, on that sort of thing. There’s very few situations which I don’t think I should be the center of attention in, but where my family’s money goes is one of them. Other than the fact that there was a lot of mouths to feed in it, my Dad’s job would have been pretty decently good paying, I suppose. But my little brother’s medical problems have been a drain for as long as I can remember. Maybe the older ones can remember when there was more cash to go around, but I was only what, two? three? when he came along. Extended hospital stays, and medications kind of took up all that there was, and Mom never worked. Just stayed home and busybodied like it actually was her chosen profession.

So when I got a very carefully packaged and protected parcel brought to me yesterday? Well, first I thought it was awful large and heavy to be my last rolls of film I’d sent to Tor to print off for me. And when I actually sliced all the tape open and pulled it out, I just stared blankly at the box. A laptop. Why the fuck did they buy me a laptop? Where the hell did the money for one come from, and if they had the extra money, why wasn’t it going towards more medical tests and I don’t known what?

I’d worked myself up into a fair bit of an indignant frenzy over it for a few minutes before I went to find the telephone, ready to rip into whichever family member it was that actually did pick up the other end. Only it was my little brother, which took some of the piss right out of me to start. And my rant about how they shouldn’t be buying me something (which I don’t even want, let alone possess the ability to operate most likely) that expensive when his health was at such risk, and needing more attention than me…blahblah.

Except he was apparently more prepared for me than I was for him, and fired off a sarcastic thank you for reminding him of how weak and pitiful he was, and that it had been his idea, meant as a congratulation both for my upcoming graduation with what looked like would be the best grades (Sad, I know) in the family, other than his own, and moving onto university, as well as for my job.

And also, “Love you Tar, quit being such an ungrateful bitch, yeah?”

I pretty much ran out of arguments at that point. Mumbled something that might possibly have been an echoing emotional sentiment and hung up the phone. The computer is still sitting in the box. And now I’m out venting in all the usual manners.

I’ve got a mental list of things and activities that I resort to when I’m trying to wind myself down. At least, that’s what I tell myself I’m trying to do. Some of them are really probably unhealthy for you, depending on one’s definition (not mine). I just think of it as a ‘simple’ process for wearing myself out so completely that I don’t have it in me to rage anymore. Not that, in this instance, I was actually raging anymore post phone conversation, but I know I’ll just work myself back up into it, sitting, stewing. I do, after all, know my own temper even without people taking it upon themselves to remind me repeatedly that I have anger issues. I know I do. I always have. And I have my own ways of coping with them.

My preferred method of working off all of my excess, annoyance filled energy? Well. I couldn’t pin down a location on Tommy, so without my partner in crime, I’d moved onto the next down on the list.

I’ve heard working out too much is just as bad for you as not doing it at all, but had I ever paid that much attention to it? No. Besides, I’m sure if I don’t work this out, I’ll just do something more destructive to the property. Or to someone, if they come up on me in the current mood and say something to piss me off. Which wouldn’t take a lot. With all the work I do regularly on my stamina and speed when it comes to running, this has become a harder thing to do than I remembered before. Maybe it’s just been a long time since I felt the need to wear myself out this way.

Shifting the idea from my lunging exercises, and the resistance I’d provided myself, I’d cued up a field around me, tuning it as I started through the trees. Not enough to slow me down too much, just enough of a weighing down to make it a tiring sort of labor though.

It’s amazing what a difference it makes, that extra pressure. It doesn’t take long before I’m huffing and puffing and having to make myself take the next steps. The more exhausted I get, the harder it’s getting to maintain that pressure. I’d smirk all self-satisfied at myself over not letting the control slip once, but well.. it can wait until later.

Rounding up and around the cliffs, I finally reach it. The point where no amount of mental, stubborn, pushing is going to make my legs carry me any farther. There’s a moment of me trying to convince myself that I’m just going to stand here and watch the choppy water for a minute, before continuing on. A moment before I give in and drop rather ungracefully onto the ground, leaning over my legs while I blow out a hard breath.

I’m working on making the heaving of my lungs slow down to a more normal speed, while I scrub the mix of sweat and rain from my face with my sleeve. The rain actually feels good right now, on my shorts bared legs. It’s not pouring, just a light amount. When I cool down, get my legs to feel like they’re made of something other than wet noodles, I tell myself I’ll just get up again and start moving, warm myself back up.

It is, actually, a fairly nice view. Not that I’d ever admit that to Moira. I’ve spent too many years at this point pulling faces and belittling the size and isolation out here in Cape Wrath. It’s something to look at though, wind whipping into my face while I rest elbows heavily on my knees. Scenery while I mull.

Something Tor’d said while he set about ripping me up one side and down the other. If it’d been anyone else I probably wouldn’t have caught it, if I’d been arguing with say, Dad, Mom, none of my other brothers live at home any more for it to have been them but… Tor’s the only family member that I can’t really bring myself to fully unleash on. Probably because the little jerk is at least twice as smart as me, and has an apparently god given talent for turning everything I say on me and making me feel either guilty or stupid. So I have to actually listen. Not that the two of us argue that much, us youngest kids well. We’ve always been closer than anyone else in the McKinley clan was to each other.

He’d said they had the money for the computer (and a music player for himself) because they weren’t dishing out the huge volume of money for his medicines anymore. I knew better that to hope he’d just magically been cured. If they hadn’t found something to fix him in fifteen years, I doubted a handful of weeks would have made a difference. No, he said he’d gotten accepted into some sort of experimental program that was researching his condition, paying for the medications.

There’d never been one of those for him before, nothing had ever panned out, no program had accepted him… this just. Moira. It had to have been Moira.

There’s a grind of my teeth, as I pull my knees up to my chest. Mostly using my arms, since the legs are still acting a bit… lethargic. It had to have been because of what I said. What I let slip when I was in her office. I don’t like asking for help. I’ve got a healthy (maybe too healthy) dose of pride as far as what I’m capable of doing all on my own. I’ve always been a self-sufficient type of person, strong person, yada yada. I don’t like the feeling of having to admit to someone that I can’t do something.

And that’s what asking for help is. Defeat.

But. If I had broken down and gone to Moira about the whole thing on purpose, instead of blurting when I was already grumpy over needing to ask for help on my financial situations, before now… There would have been people working to help Tor. Which. Is something I can’t do. Years of sitting in hospital rooms and wishing hadn’t done me any good, nor had glaring at the assorted doctors.

Dropping my chin onto my knees, I sigh, turning the noise into a grumble under my breath, for my own benefit since there isn’t anyone else out here for me to pretend for, really. Just me and the rain that’s slowly making me damper, and damper. I’m pulling a bit of a face, as I swipe away water droplets from my legs, a pointless motion really since they’re just going to be replaced in moments by more but. I don’t really feel like getting up and moving yet. I should, possibly, have better thought out where exactly on this run I was going to reach the ‘empty’ on my energy tank.

I think I’m not too far from the cave that I use on occasion, actually. Maybe that would be a better place for my.. what am I doing.. internally beating on myself? At least then I’d be out of the rain. Comfy as I am sitting, the goose bumps are starting to turn into sporadic shivers, and I don’t want to trudge back inside just yet. Struggling a bit, I push myself up off the ground, rubbing one of my arms with the opposite hand while I shuffle my way along the cliff to find the way down.

Tara McKinley : Serious Discussions Pt 2

Fri, 29 Jun 2007 08:09:46 GMT

Kaito : "Now who's being an asshat?" *I ask Tommy as he makes his ridiculous request*

Tommy : "So if a girl is raped they're an asshat?"

Zora : "No they aren't."

*Eyes moving back to Tommy. It's a subject I take very seriously. Both types.*

Kaito : "No, but that happening and what you claimed to have happened are different. Besides, what makes you think you were mentally assaulted?"

Moira : "It was a very generous gift from Doctor Richards." Shoving her hands back into the pockets of her lab coat, Moira steps back slightly from the gathering to give her a better perspective on all of them as she watches Betsy's reaction to the psi-screen gifted to the teenager.

She was already completely aware that her own was the subject of much scorn and general comment among many telepaths--her brand of paranoia, coloring her island. Perhaps it was--she had ample reason to be paranoid though, with the history of mental assaults she'd faced. Not simply invasions.

But it seemed to escalate quickly, here. Like this. Watching Betsy impassively, she shakes her head slightly. "Elisabeth, allow me tae assure you whether or not yuir obligated tae do anything for anyone on this island in the future if I find you've refused aid to anyone because of wounded pride or some childish notion, I will not only be dissapointed you and I will have a considerable falling out." And Betsy would not then be welcome on her island.

Not a teacher, not a student, not in her employ. That made her a guest.

Tommy. Grimacing there, she turns her gaze to the boy, chin rising slightly as she adresses Kaito first. "I would encourage you, Kaito, to stay out of this particular debate." Encouragement, order. All the same.

Psylocke : "Oh no, I touched his mental penis with my mind. I forced him, obviously."
I give Thomas a look that could only imply that I think he's gone off the deep end and gone insane.

"It was an accident. Sometimes there are accidents with powers. I appologise for intruding, it was a rookie mistake. Xi'an is also a rookie and is still learning the boundries that must be respected when taking others into account when she has such an intrusive ability."
That's as close as I get to an appology for my mistake, and clearly I was in error and this is my attempt to right it but filing for...assault? Please. I'm not worried so much for myself if charges are filed. More than likely I'll not be facing any consequences but for the sake of Xi'an, this could harm her more deeply than he knows.

Tara : “What, more autographed photos to sell?”

Since I can’t fathom out whatever else Richards might have had to send to him. More pictures seems reasonable enough to me though, I mean, the first ones supposedly went well enough. And there’s not so much the sneaking on kisses, I’m always totally willing to give them out. With or without an audience, like there is currently.

I’m not exactly shy, after all. And it’s not like I haven’t done worse. Yes, I’m bad. We all know that already though, so there’s not much incentive for me to try to change it. Tommy gets a squeeze though, while he shows off his new toy.

“Really? That’s neat.”

I’m eyeing the necklace. I would make some sort of crack about me needing to find some other way to get into his head now, only with the resulting reactions from everyone else? I’m opting to keep that one to myself.

“I’m guessing the foxy part. Which you should only be directing to me anyway.”

Feron : Feron let out a 'hm' noise, nodding. It was an apt analogy. He was fragile and easily overwhelmed alone; that much was clear. He no longer had brothers to band together with, though, or a father to bind them; that caused his heart to swell with a bit of regret.

His jaw set somewhat at the nicknames, and he leveled another 'nerve-pinch' glare at Thomas. "I am in mortal peril. I do nae have time for petulent, selfish, disrespectful, undisciplined children. My name is Feron. Address me as such, or do nae speak to me again."

"Zora...thank you for your wisdom. I hope I can put it to use." The pretense of a hypothetical situation was abandoned, and as he turned to walk away, so was his participation in the motley gathering.

Colossus : I'm standing by, ever the wallflower. Watching this particular debate. I show no real emotion to one part or another. Just crossing my arms, watching.

I should have brought my pitcher of lemonade out here.

This is an interesting, serious debate. I'm eager to see what comes from it.

Zora : *Rising.*

"Belittling a victim before apologizing? Very nice."

*Any doubt I may have had over whether he had actually been violated or was paranoid is gone.*

"Feron? If you don't mind, I'd prefer to continue our discussion where the air is a bit fresher."

Psylocke : "I would never refuse aid, Moira. I would chose to seperate myself from the island before I allowed you and I to have any issues between us."
I value my familial tie to her more than I do my post on this island. I do think I am doing a good thing by trying to help the students and I feel good about it and I know it's a tremendous help to Moira with her telepath related students. I won't allow a student to interfere with my work and my personal life however.

"Feron, see me later please?"
He looks like he needs some help, in a very serious way. I have a feeling this might be connected to something much larger.

Kaito : *mulling over Moira's barely concealed order, I can't help but smirk a bit at Betsy's 'mental penis' comment. sue me, I thought it was funny. however considering what could happen if I don't follow Moira's encouragement, I opt to stay out of it. though I still think Tommy is an asshat who could use some electroshock therapy*

Tommy : Ah. So Doctor Richards was right, I'm not alone in the category of people who have had their own minds 'invaded' without permission. Intrusion, into the most private parts of a person's consciousness, is something that I have always felt was wrong. Prior to becoming a mutant, I was raised in a family intolerant of them for the very things I've come to understand as commonplace while on Muir.

My response to Kaito is not to berate him with wise-ass words, but to ask the same question that was asked of me. "Did I give permission for anyone to enter my thoughts?"

"No."

"Did they do so anyway? Yes."

It.. actually may be odd, but as this conversation turns the way I knew it would, I move to put myself between Tara and Psylocke. Protectively. As if I believe Psylocke may hurt Tara. Not likely going to win me brownie points with Tara but....

"It's my understanding, that Professor Xavier teaches that the power most feared by Humanity is the power to have all their secrets revealed and stripped away. It's my understanding that when Telepathes enter into study with this school, or others, they're taught that invading an unwilling mind is tantamount to rape."

"It is also my understanding, from Doctor Richards, that actually forcing yourself into someone's conscious mind is no different than sexual rape. In fact it might be even more dangerous, as it could crack a fragile psyche. That carelessness on the part of telepathic beings could actually do more lasting harm to someone's mind than rape could do physically."

"So. Kaito, if you think I'm an asshat, because I'm going to press charges? Then I'd like to remind you, Kaito, that 57% of the women raped in the world, Fear going to the Police because of people like you."

"...and as for you... Elisabeth, you could kick my ass with little thought. But I'd like to remind you of one thing. You have to sleep, and I only need .03 seconds to make sure you never make that accident again. So if you don't mind, let's stop the pretense of civility, and you don't speak to me again until the Police decide which of us is right or wrong?"

Moira : "Are we belittling the mere concept of mental assault, now?" There was something fairly unsettling about how measured Moira's words were. Clipped, precise, fingers stopped drumming against her arm, pressing into the muscle instead in an effort to keep them still.

As far as she was concerned, any ground Betsy had slipped away just then.

She should have left, with Zora. Would have been the wiser move, for her. This was going to stomp over all of her triggers, it already was. She would have to talk later with some of the others, she was sure. But at this point she was focused entirely on Betsy, and on keeping it merely talking. Short fuse indeed.

"Regardless of intention, I should think you'd show more concern, regard, or even a modicum of human decency given the issue at hand, rather than make unthinking callous remarks."

"I believe this conversation has officially come to an end."

Colossus : "I believe I will take a cue from Zora and go where the air is fresher." I give a stern nod. I'm not amused by this conversation any longer.

They are like children.

So, I will return to my room so I can get a good night's sleep for the day tomorrow.

Feron : Feron stalked off towards his cave silently. He stopped when he was well out of sight or earshot of the others, turning back to see if Zora was following. None of them really deserved his ire, but lately he had very little in the way of emotional control, it seemed.

Sighing, he offered a faint smile to the woman. "Is this what a playwright would call a 'dramatic exit'?"

The smile faded, and he reached up to run a hand through his hair. "I am sorry for my deception t'you. I am nae a very talented liar, hm?"

Psylocke : I'm dumbstruck. Did he just threaten me? I did nothing of the sort. I would never act out on any irritation against one of the students but he just...

"Moira. I'll be at my flat in London until this is sorted out. Regardless of my belittling, a death threat is considerably worse."
I'll have nothing more to do with this, regardless of my callous beliittling of the situation. I assume Moira will be in contact with me. Thomas forgets some things. I never attended Xavier's and that I 'rape' minds for a living, it's how I work. Some spies just kill to get their information but I do far worse things that keep me up some nights.

Everyone else is living, as am I. I'm turning away from this. I'm going to leave this until Moira can get her student under control. I only need to pack a few things and arrange the transportation. I'll be leaving a note with Xi'an as well, she can stay with me, regardless, it may be a good idea for her to make a quiet exit off the island considering there are threats being thrown.

Kaito : *okay, despite what Moira said, I have to speak. she can put me in detention for all I care*

"Tommy, you are a fucking retard for thinking that. I can't believe you would get pissed due to that whole mental IM thing Ms. Braddock set up for us during the scenario."

Zora : *Taking a deep cleansing breath. Every fiber of my being wanted to.... no... don't go there. Moira's territory. But if Tommy wants a ride to the constable, I'll carry him piggyback.*

"No deceptions, Feron. Speaking hypothetically is always a good way to broach an uncomfortable subject. Moving to non-hypothetical... what sort of odds are you facing?"

Moira : "Tommy."

"You are understandably upset. But do not threaten anyone on my island again."

"Elisabeth, I will be in contact."

"Kaito, I asked you tae stay out of the conversation, considering you do not understand the situation."

"And I believe I indicated that this entire conversation was breaking up as of now. It will be handled without the spectators."

Tara : And sure enough, I make an annoyed sound when Tommy moves to shield me from Betsy, and don’t quite manage to stop myself from rolling my eyes behind him. Not even because if she really wanted to get at me, which I don’t think for a second she does, she could just do it with him standing there or not. But because I don’t think I need it. Never do, though.

So instead I move out from behind him, and plop down on my ass a few steps away. What? I said I wasn’t going to let everyone else interrupt what I was doing, and so I kick out one leg and start reaching for my toes, while I keep right on watching the ‘discussion’ going on. I’m personally waiting for like, violence to break out here.

“Kaito, seriously, butt out.”

Since even if I wanted to I don’t think I could react fast enough to stop Tommy from belting him. Not that I want to. I’m just behaving and staying out of this for the most part because Psylocke’s offered me something I want. Which is pretty good motivation for me to be good.

There’s a nod of my head towards the people making a collective exodus away. As much as a wave as I’m going to do right now, with my arms occupied.

Kaito : "And I am butting out now." *I reply to both Moira and Tara as it would be a bad idea to piss off a speedster. though I do wonder who's faster: me and my electricity or him and his speed. not really wanting to find out just now, I turn and head back inside. however just in case of attack, I let the electrical field I've been keeping suppressed to touch people and objects without frying, go a little so even if Tommy does come after me, he'll get a shock*

Feron : "Still, I can nae berate others for disrespect if I can nae be honest m'self." He looked away for a moment, lowering his hand to his side and letting his hair flop down, dishevelled.

"The odds..." he squinted, mentally spinning through any analogies or synonyms he knew of for the word. "Insuperabilis." He shook his head, clearing the strands of dark hair from his eyes. "Insurmountable. Defeat is...expected, unless I am granted a miracle."

Perhaps someone else would assassinate Mordo before the end of the year? That would certainly be fortunate and miraculous. It wasn't something that the 'odds' favored, though.

Alas.

"I do nae know how much I can tell you; these matters are..." he trailed off, sighing. "Complex, aye."

Tommy : Did I make a threat? Yes. Am I aware that my words were threatening? Yes. However, am I here to become a hero? No. What I'm here for is because SHIELD put me here, to better control my powers so I don't become a delinquent. So it's not the least bit out of character for me to make my point clear.

"Fine, Doctor MacTaggart, but I won't be held responsible if it happens to me again." In fact I've done my research, on this.

My eyes barely shift to Kaito then, before I forcefully make myself turn away and return my full attentions to Tara. Who's peacefully stretching. I know her, she doesn't peacefully do anything. She's doing that thing she does when she is enforcing her will, whether anyone else realizes she's doing it or not. "Sorry."

"I ... could have picked a better time to make that an issue."

Tara : I was peacefully stretching. Before everyone else came out here. I was even still sorta while Betsy was getting my input, and listening to my ideas about danger room stuff, and actually amazingly agreeing to what I thought would be an absolute no go.

Then it became the outdoor kitchen variety party, complete with arguments and threats, while I kept my mouth closed with an only slightly miffed expression on my face. Only I think by now Tommy knows exactly what the face means, he probably also knows what the next one means. Because now he’s getting a very sweet smile with my face close to my knee.

“Mmmyeah you probably could have. You made my adoring fans disperse.”

Pushing myself back upright again, I switch legs and go back to it on the opposite side.

“If I don’t get to shove around the younger kids in practice now with full endorsement you’re going to be a very, very sorry man, darling.”

I’m not completely angry at him. He’d be feeling it if I were. Possibly literally. This level of annoyed, I’ll probably only be donning the skimpiest sections of my wardrobe that I can get away with in class and taunting him for a couple of days. Because it amuses me.

“Did you know Richards was going to send you that thing, or was that a happy little surprise?”

Zora : *A faint smirk.*

"If these are matters in the mystical line, no.... I'm not the one to consult. I've known more than one shaman, but I have about as much mystic ability as one of my guns. But I trust my gut instincts when they tell me you're a good man. If this other is as cruel as you say, there have to be other good men and women that would be willing to stand by you. If a non-mystic would be of any help, I would be.... though quite a few might quibble over whether I'm good myself or not."

"Don't let him talk you into defeat before the fight even starts. There are allies out there - no maybes about that. They're there."

Tommy : Biting down upon my bottom lip as she stretches, and goes about smiling that way in which you know that she is thinking of punishments. Though I'm still not sure that I'm even remotely in the wrong, "Oh, adoring fans?"

"Hmph. You had Moira, Zora, emoboy, retardkid, and a rapist. I think you'll do well by switching to just having an asshole nearbye. That or I'm just selfish and will have to learn to deal with my own issues."

"Tara," beginning softly. "I happen to think you're going to be shoving little kids around for a long time. Have you considered... maybe interning to be a teacher here?"

"Don't. Give. Me. That. Look. That 'shut-the-face' thing you do. You're good with people, you let them think you like them, and then twist them into what you want them to be. That's perfect, I think Mr. Pietro is actually trying that with me."

Crouching infront of her, with one hand reaching out to tap her outstretched leg. "It was a surprise. Until Doctor Richards talked to me, I didn't know anyone else understood what I'm going through. Then he sent me this to help me."

"He also wants me to try to be ... more responsible."

Feron : He fingered his ears with one hand, grinning. "All I know is matters of the mystic realm, which perhaps...was the problem all along. Or maybe my attempt t'learn of the mortal world was at issue. I do nae know, and it makes na difference now."

"You honor me with your kind words. The people here...they can barely survive amongst each other, much less the litany of enemies they also have. You are strong; they need your wisdom and experience." If the encounter a few minutes prior had not proven that beyond any doubt, nothing would. "T'endanger you would be t'endanger them, and I would nae do anything to harm any of them, even the ones who may deserve it."

"He does nae need talk, Zora. He has already destroyed so many..." He frowned. "Scores greater in power and number than I. I have one avenue to pursue here, and then I must heed your advice and seek aid elsewhere. Asia, Australia, the Americas...there must be others who will stand in opposition t'a threat of this magnitude; I simply must find them and convince them."

Zora : "Speak to Pietro if you can. He's a man of varied experiences and if anyone can possibly point you in the right direction on this island, it's him. And any starting point is better than random searching when time is a factor."

*Offering him a hand if he'll take it.*

"Anything I can do.... anytime. Let me know and if possible, I'll do it.

Feron : Feron looked puzzled. "Pietro? The prince?" Then he shrugged. He was willing to entertain any notions at the moment.

He stepped forward and clasped her forearm, shaking once resolutely before releasing. "I will be here a while yet, and can benefit from your continued training. I do nae know how capable of a fighter my opponent is, but perhaps the smallest surprise I can bring will prove invaluable at a critical juncture."

Tara : “Well obviously my fans can’t be as great as me, I can’t be having that. You’re right though, I think the asshole is an acceptable trade off. Besides, I’m apparently pretty much one of the most selfish people here. So I’m not going to ride your ass for that. At least not when it’s just the two of us.”

It’s not like we can pull off that much alone time here, as open as everything always is, unless we’ve snuck off to somewhere one or the other of us isn’t supposed to be. Not that I mind that. But hey, the chances of anyone coming out to talk to us anymore tonight out here? Pretty much none. So I guess it accomplished something.

Clucking my tongue at him, I quickly try to change my facial expression from the one he clearly caught me making, into something else. More of a ‘you’re absolutely crazy’ this time.

“It’s bad enough that I’ve gotta learn how to make all of us here, and the research facility, look awesome and great.. I mean, not that that’d be hard to do for a couple of us…”

Tilting to the side, he gets a bit of a headbut to the leg (I’m not being violent! Violent headbutting is done to the face), before I right myself again and sit up straight.

“… but what the hell would I teach anyone? I mean. Yeah. That’s all to get stuff I want. I learned wheedling back at home, it worked a lot better to turn my brothers against each other and then do what I wanted than to have them getting in my way.”

Shrugging my shoulders a bit. I mean, really. I don’t think I have the patience to teach anyone anything, even if I can play nice when there’s something in it for me. And I can’t really teach that skill to anyone.

“He is supposed to be the smartest guy, so I guess it’s not too weird that he’s got like, experience with all sorts of things. Responsible? Like in what way? Cause I’m sorry, but I think you rank right up with me on the scale of completely not that.”

Zora : "Then we'll take your physical training to a different level. From 'nice to know just in case' to 'going into battle - time to get ready'."

*This one is one to get Rico in on as well - if he'll join me on it. Somehow, I think he will.*

"Meditate, sleep - whatever. But I'll see you at dawn for the first run of the day."

*Starting back on my run again. I wonder how fast Moira would notice if I started packing one of my smaller pieces again? Or if she'd even mind at this point? Think I'll ask her about that. Damn psis.*

*Which reminds me - I should have a talk with Tommy in the very near future as well.*

Tommy : She makes things so 'easy' when she talks. It's like she has a way of simplifying things down to being just point A to point B, and nothing in between. Where as I work a mile a minute and try to compensate for everything I can... most of which no one else is even bothered with.

Pursing my lips, so that even when she is done butting heads with my thigh she'll see that I'm right back to over-thinking everything she's said. Except for the part about punishment. After a second or two of super-speed thinking, I just totally stop. Muscles relaxing as if tension is washing away, and then I'm joining her totally on the floor. "You could teach them that right there."

"That thing you do, where everything is such a complicated mess and you point out the easy bottomline." Tara's a hypocrite of the first order. She sits here, stretching out her body in a way that draws my eyes and she knows it. However she's distracting me, gaining my attention, and diverting me from the fact that beneath the subtext of superiority, she just said she didn't have anything to teach kids.

It's at that point that I put -my- hands on her legs, to break up her routine. "Every time you do that, I realize why I tried so hard to get you to notice me." That? "That thing you do, where you pretend that you didn't just sell yourself short, when in fact you could probably do better than half the people already doing it."

"...and besides. Your current job is to make Muir look good. Hello, Lavern, have you looked in the mirror? Job, done. Let's cash your paycheck."

"He wants me to try..." Oh, this is surely going to get a Tara laugh. "...try to be a leader around here."

Tara : “Because most of the time, I really don’t feel like sitting through discussion of option A being better than option B but only because there’s less of blahblahblah to worry about. Why sit an yak about it when you can do it, be done, move on to something more entertaining.”

So I bull my way through to the simplest answer that I can see for something, and do it. Or just point it out in a ‘duh, why didn’t you come up with this on your own?’ inflection.

“What, the fact that I have the best looking ass on the island?”

My twice daily runs, and all the other things like lunges, football drills, whatever I’ve decided to put my body through for the evening on that particular day? You don’t get in good shape just lung wise, y’know. I quit stretching when he interrupts me via touch this time, and scoot over so I’m right up next to Tommy.

“Ah. I’m not selling myself short. Maybe teaching everyone else my superior get what I want skills would be counter productive. I don’t what them all to realize what I’m doing, you know. Might make it more difficult.”

Which. As we probably both well know, would only actually serve to make me work harder at it. I’d feel bad for everyone else if…I were a feel bad for anyone type of person.

“Lavern? You’re right though. Easy way for alcohol money. I guess. And to buy that cute little outfit I got for work when I went to London.”

And by cute, well. I like it, I’m sure Moira will raise her eyebrows at my definition of work appropriate. What? It has a jacket that I could wear to cover up everything the dress doesn’t. If I have to. Wrinkling up my nose for a moment, I drop my head onto his shoulder while I think. And then shrug. Nope, not laughing at him on that one really.

“You probably could? I mean, as long as everyone else gets their collective sticks out their asses.”

I’m not about to suggest he not antagonize anyone, because well. What fun is that, besides the fact that I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to express whatever opinions we want.

Zora : *A glance back over as I start to jog by. Looks like it's just Tara and Tommy now. Not going to butt in there - if they're helping each other unkey... or just enjoying couple time, that's fine. Anything I have to say can wait until morning.*

Tommy : Once she's close enough there's an arm slipping around her to pull Tara up tightly to me. "You have the second best looking ass I've ever seen. Spider-Man... totally tops everyone. It's sad... but true. I mean... sad because he's a dude, and I don't do dudes, but also because you're about to punch me...."

"Still, Tara, the public relations thing is a joke, you just have to show up and it's in the bag. You brighten the school image without even a single word. My girlfriend happens to be scorchin-hot."

"Maybe selling short was the wrong coin of phrase, what I mean is that you're always verbalizing yourself as awesome, but you never really embrace the fact... Tara you could be a great influence here. Counter Balancing Moira. Making sure she doesn't push that peaceful existence crap down their throats. Zora, Maverick, they all have their own silent power, but -your's- is in the fact you're not silent. You could use that next semester... and show people just how good you really are."

"Nah, I'm not leadership material, Tara. First of all, I am selfish. If it was the team or you... I'd save you every time. And I'm not sucking up either, I'm being upfront about ..."

...."Stop."

"The only time I feel like I could do 'good things' is when you're around. You're one of the only people here who gives me the chance to do them." Of course that could also be because I'm an asshole from the get go but... "I think I'm in love with yo--- ..."

"The idea of doing more Danger Room time with you."

Tara : There’s no protesting, just sliding an arm around him in return, and leaving my head where it was. I’m not usually much of a cuddler, but. Well. I have my moments where I definitely don’t mind.

“That’s only because I don’t run around in spandex. If I did, no work would ever get done, and I’d probably have to accidentally crush people to keep them away from me. And as much as I really like doing that, it might get frowned upon when I’m not doing it as a real sort of self-defense.”

I’ve yet to get in trouble for doing it during ‘battle’ or whatever you want to call what happens here on the island on occasion. I got Moira almost the maddest I have ever seen her when I did it outside of that, though.

“And if it’s not settled from them just gazing on me adoringly, I make them feel stupid and send them on their way. Yeah. I’m not arguing that it’s a cake job.”

And when they told me how much I was going to get paid to do that? Well. Shit. No way I was turning it down. And there’s also the potential for me to actually get to use my camera for something beyond my own personal enjoyment. It was, apparently, what had actually cemented the job for me. When the head of the PR department saw my photos from around the island. The pamphlets we have right now are super boring. I could make them so much better.

“So? It’s not like I wouldn’t do the same thing. I’m a bigger fan of protecting my personal interests, rather than anyone else’s. I guess I wouldn’t think of it as leading if it were me. I’d think of it more as bossing everyone else around and expecting them to do what I tell them to. I mean, that’s what leaders do, isn’t it?”

I actually physically stiffen when he gets to the L word, and it takes a moment or two for me to relax again once he’s switched it over into talking Danger Room instead of other…things. Which. I guess the question is if that was really a slip up, or if he just thought better of finishing that sentence and changed it. I though, choose to seize on the subject sort of change and run with that.

“Aw, well it sounds like a lovely idea to me. You know how hot I get watching you blow things up.”

Lifting my head to put a smirk on my face for Tommy, before I’m nudging him with my elbow.

“C’mon. I’m done out here. I’ll make us some food, and then we can talk about how I’m going to abuse you for being bad.”

Tommy : "Cake job, milk run, why do we have to refer to you being hot, and my favorite foods all at the same time. Talk about sending my body mixed signals. I can't tell if I want to cuddle or make waffles." You know what's coming, so there's just nothing to do but wait for me to get to the punch line, which I draw out for a dramatic couple seconds. "Hell with it, why don't we involve the waffles into the cuddling? I've got some creative ideas about the syrup uses."

Almost no one gets to see this side. Where I'm perfectly still, not jittering around. Just relaxed, and somber, with an around her Tara, and both of us sharing a moment or two. Pietro came to me while I was in the medical center and told me there was times in life where you can't live in the second or you'll miss the moment. It never really clicked with me what that meant, until a few weeks ago when Tara and I had a moment sort of like this one.

Feeling her tense up, I make only the briefest touch of my hand along her shoulders in a firm squeeze, to let her know what I meant, before I play right along with her. "Gee. So you're saying I can get you wound up, -and- boss people around if I play my cards right?"

Slowly getting off the ground first, so that I can pull Tara up in a possessive tug of her hands. Only when we're standing do we get eye contact. "I do ... y'know?"

Whatever it is I meant by that singular question, I don't explain. Instead it's my turn to play things off again. "I knew it. The waffle idea turned you on. I'll get the maintenance signs from the Janitor's closet... we'll have the whole kitchen to ourselves."

Tara : “Because I like tormenting you, Tommy. It’s almost my most favorite thing to do. And I do make a mean batch of waffles. I’ll even be a sharing sort and let you participate. You can be in charge of the syrup.”

It makes me laugh, tilting my head back with a little roll of my eyes, though this time it’s not the sort of eyeroll that conveys disgust and what not, while I let Tommy help me up to my feet again. Even if I am being completely serious. Hey. It sounds like a good time to me.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. How’s that for incentive for you?”

I know I do my best work when I’ve got something I want that I’ll get out of something. When we get to the eye contact part after what he says though? Now I actually look nervous and while blue eyes are meeting his? It’s in flickers, while I busy myself with tugging down the bottom of my thermal shirt. And this time I let him change the subject, perfectly willing to go right along with that instead, quitting with the biting the corner of my lip and breaking out into a grin again, giving his arm a tug to get us going.

“I’d cover up the camera with a box, but hey. We all know Moira really wants to watch.”

Okay no she doesn’t. She’s told me as much before. I think of it as incentive for them to not try to get us in trouble for sneaking off elsewhere. Where no one else has to pay attention to us.

Tara McKinley : Serious Discussions Pt. 1

Fri, 29 Jun 2007 07:38:40 GMT

Psylocke : The easiest way for me to attempt to rework how I approach the simulations is to speak to the students themselves. Tara seemed like one of the most likely candidates. She's opinionated and she won't candy coat any of her words to spare my feelings. I really don't think that hurt feelings are a possibility. I've been fairly apathetic in order to preserve my professionalism. I'm doing this as a favor to Moira, this is not my job at all but I'll be damned if one of these students gets killed because they don't know the most basic of things that I could have taught them.

I had to look out on the grounds for her, she was probably practicing with the local greenery again. I'm hoping a rock doesn't get flung my way as I approach cautiously.

"Tara? Do you have a moment to talk?"

Tara : And if there was any wonder as to why I try to usually hide it when I injure myself? This would be why. I probably would have ‘shrugged it off’ and ‘walked it off’ this last time, when I took a tree branch (bough, whatever) to the back of the head. Only someone found my unconscious ass and dragged it inside before I got that option. The number of times that I’ve injured myself is fractionally small compared with the amount of time I actually spend out here practicing.

Apparently they’re just that memorable. So I keep getting reminded. And I keep practicing out here by myself anyway, because at least if something goes wrong? It’s only me getting injured, instead of whomever else might be out here with me.

“I’ve maybe even got four.”

I’m not practicing with a rock, so there’s not much danger of that, unless I’m prodded into anger anyway. And then it wouldn’t be on purpose. I may be hot headed but I’m not completely stupid. What am I doing when Betsy finds me? Lunges. The sleeves of my green thermal long sleeved shirt are pushed up to my elbows, and I’ve given in and actually worn a pair of tearaway track pants, instead of just my shorts. If I get warm I can always ditch them.

It also looks like I’m straining more than you’d think I ought to be from the simple exercise. That’s because for once? I’ve turned my powers against myself. I can make myself fly with no problem. How hard would it be to work opposite and ground myself? Resistance training!

“What do you need?”

Psylocke : "An opinion and some suggestions on future simulations. Since the last was rather hit and miss. Someone made some suggestions to me about starting from the ground up. So I wanted to ask you what might keep your interest and keep you coming if I were to make these training simulations a regular thing? I'm not talking fantasy every night, simple obstacle courses to start and then bringing in more interactive elements as everyone gets on a more level playing field."

I push my hair from my face, taking a breath now. I do seem to be a little bit nervous. I know my reputation tends to reach people before my good intentions do.

"Obviously, you and some others are more experienced but there are some students that have barely any at all and I want to keep the simulations interesting for everyone."

Tara : There’s a quirked up red eyebrow at her, and what seems to be some sort of anxiety. I mean, I know I’m all sorts of intimidating on occasion, but I don’t think I’ve ever made the teachers nervous before. Or at least not nervous like this.

“I’m pretty damn easy to please, really.”

Pushing myself up off the ground, while I drop the weighting field I’d had going around me, rising quickly. Mostly just because I’d gotten used to, in the last space of time, not being able to move that quickly.

“Give me something to crush, smash, punch, or otherwise maim? And I’m a happy little girl.”

Why do you think I’m always so… excited… when trouble comes a knockin’ at Muir Island? Because I get to do some, if not all, of those things, generally without any repercussions because it was self-defense. And the adrenaline? I possibly like the feeling of that racing a bit too much for my own good.

“That was actually like, the second time I’ve ever been in the danger room. They had this silly idea that I might break it somehow, before. I guess now I’ve proved myself.”

Shrugging shoulders absently, I tug my hair in its bright ponytail a little, where it’s loosened.

“So most of my experience is from folks showing up and starting shit. I don’t know, maybe different levels of a challenge for different people. I’d personally rather get tossed into the deep end and have to muscle my way out of it though.”

Zora : *Doing a slow, steady jog. I expect Feron will be joining me later if his other studies permit, but I don't neglect my own training either. The flash of red hair as Miss McKinley rises catches my eye and I give a brief wave. About twenty seconds after that, I spot the purple and reinforce my shields. For someone with a psi hangup, Moira certainly has enough of them around.*

Psylocke : "I might be able to work in sessions or something. For beginners and more advanced students and possibly a group activity challenge at the end of the week. I could devote three evenings assuming my other obligations don't get in the way."

I could easily be called out for an assignment and I would have to leave and deal with it. I also have other students I'm working with in developing their telepathic abilities.

"What would you think if there were days when there would be no focus on powers at all and with more focus on self defense and physical obstacles? I'm trying to take a page out of my own training which was a combination of the two. They can't have their telepaths be pudgy and slow if they're going to be in the field."

Tara : “Hey Zora.”

An upward tilt of my chin, in a bit of a nod while my hand lifts to return the wave, then I’m turning my attention back to Betsy, other arm resting on my hip while I seemingly mull over her suggestions she’s trying to bounce off me.

“I’d be all for, sign me up, that sort of thing. The more time I fill in my day the better, and if it’s not something organized, I’ll just be out here doing it by myself anyway. Supposedly my teamwork is a little lacking so. I guess it’d be good for me, right?”

There’s an indelicate snort of laughter at the thought of pudgy, plodding telepaths running around in tight uniforms.. wow.

“I was picking fights with my fists, and no powers, for fifteen years before I got what I have to work with now. I’ve got no problem trying that.”

Mornings are usually when I practice with my powers, after my first run of the day. Nights, like now, I work on the physical side. Drills, weights, what have you. I’m in great shape, because I work so hard at it, but since I know I can make myself better? I’m sure as hell trying.

Psylocke : "Hello Zora, having a pleasant run?"
I'm on an island full of paranoids it seems. It's easy to not really care though. As if I would waste the time to prod into someone's mind for no reason at all. I save that for my agent work.

"I'd like to reinforce working as a team as well as getting the students to a level where future attacks will be a little more easier to deal with with less injuries and such."
Provided tempers remain in check, this island is also full of hot heads with short fuses, Moira being among them.

"Excellent, I'll see if I can get something posted and do a preliminary test on everyone to place them and get a feel for what would be appropriate to start with. I'll probably ask Moira if it'd be allright somewhere along the way. It's not my fault she's in her smelly lab all of the time."

That's also typical of my family, my father, my brother. I don't like going in the labs much these days. It really makes me miss Brian and then I get into the ice-cream.

Colossus : I was busy wandering the halls before I decided to patrol the grounds, looking for something I've been missing for a while. Inspiration.

I've been angered with myself for not finding inspiration to continue my art. I've been keeping to myself. A child of the soviet. I never speak unless I really have to. I don't believe in incessant babble.

"Hello, Zora." I give a nod to the woman.

"Tara, Elisabeth."

Feron : Feron did not explicitly believe in luck; he rather believed in fate, or the Fates, or a grand scheme. He had often heard luck called the great equalizer, but it seemed to him that it unleveled the field just as often as it made corrections. At the moment, things weren't looking great. Baron Mordo's challenge lingered in his mind like the musty smell of a wet scrap of cloth. No matter how hard he tried to calm himself and put it aside, he could not, at least, not entirely. It was also difficult to reconcile the great anger that was threatening to consume him; when he did not know the murderer's identity, it was easier to let such things pass.

All night he lay awake on his bed slab, staring up at the dark cavern ceiling. The only consolation he'd felt was in taking a stand against obvious evil, though doing such had not fared well for most others. Mordo had said that he was a rarity these days; mystics in Europe whose status remained independent - outside whatever dominion the foul cretin was amassing. The nature of that statement had been galling, shocking, and terrifying, but it had also provided a bit of hope. In the end, however, he was hopelessly outmatched and without much, if any, resources with which to fight his opponent. When he awoke, he decided to seek counsel.

He had not found her at the usual spot, but knew she often took a run through the island. Feron waited patiently in the branch of a tree near one of the paths he thought she might take, silent in contemplation. She was stealthy; he almost had not heard her approach.

"Hail," he called out, dropping down from the tree and heading out to match her stride. "I would speak with you, Professor Fox."

Tara : “Well, Tommy and I work great. I hold things down, he blows them to bits. It’s a lovely arrangement, really.”

And I like watching him destroy stuff as much as he seems to like watching my crush, see, we really are quite the couple.

“I suppose working with the other students wouldn’t be bad either though.”

The people I get used to working with seem to always leave though. And just reinforce my opinion that it’s just easier to depend on me. Because I know full well what I can do, and that I can do pretty much anything I want. I just don’t make a team by myself.

“I’ll keep my eyes open. I’ll even volunteer to beat around the other kids to help them learn.”

A sly little bit of a smirk is spreading across my face. I know I’m not going to get taken up on that one. And I’ve cracked enough people’s ribs on the island that I’m sure no one would want to go up against me anyway. It’s not like I have to make gravity pull that hard. I could be gentler. Maybe. And there’s Feron. I’m lifting a hand to wave at him, before I drop back into stretching out my shoulders. It looks like he’s all a-purpose, so I won’t interrupt him talking to Zora.

“Yeah, I have Zora. Just stretching out and doing some other excercises. Colossus.”

Nodding my head to him, before I tilt it.

“Decide to join the party? We’ve apparently moved it from the kitchen to out of doors tonight.”

Colossus : "Yes. I find outside is better for my eyes." No fluorescent lighting.

"I enjoy the overcast clouds and cold ocean breeze." Reminds me of home. Not like Xavier's.

Moira : For a woman who purportedly hated crowds and socializing, she certainly found her way into it most times. Hands shoved deeply into the pockets of her laboratory coat, auburn hair twisted out of her face carelessly, and a faintly dry remark as her greeting.

"My lab doesnae smell."

"And Tara, you're destructive enough on yuir own."

"Hello, Zora. Feron. Piotr. I trust I've made it before anyone. . ." looking at Tara ". . . managed tae injure themselves somehow?"

"It is lovely weather, though." Agreeing with Colossus as she rocks back on her heels, eyeing the gathering.

Psylocke : "Hello Piotr! I was meaning to ask if you'd be able to make something for me sometime."
Well, I'd like to comission a painting specificly as a gift to someone. I'd think Piotr might appreciate a willing model as well. I certainly have no shame nor worries about doing such.

"Hello to you too, Feron!"
Well, this spot has gotten rather busy. I thought it would have been perfect to have a conversation with Tara but it seems I did get that business out of the way. It's only a matter of doing the difficult work now.

"That's a good idea. Like a peer training! I'm going to look into that, I think that would be excellent to help get everyone on a level field."

Kaito : *with how much rain the island gets, I'm at times hesitant to go outside but I do so anyways to avoid getting cabin fever. however I refrain from practing my powers mainly due to the fact I don't want to somehow electrocute myself. after all, water and electricty don't mix*

*when I step outside, I find that I'm not the only one had to get outside for awhile. wondering what's up, I walk towards them. however I don't say anything as I just listen to what conversations are going on*

Zora : "Doctor MacTaggert."

Psylocke : "It does smell, Moira. You're in it all the time so you don't know any different. Though, this being said from someone who thinks new Italian leather shoes is the best smell in the world. I'm going to be using your simulation room Monday, Wednesday and Saturday to train the students. I'll give you a more detailed outline of objectives and times. Keep Mr. North around hrm? He's pleasant company, I probably wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for him."

Zora : *Eyes narrowing considerably as they move back to Miss Braddock - no comment however.*

Colossus : I'll keep my mouth shut. I really have nothing to add to the 'girly' talk. I'm just crossing my arms over my chest. Looking up at the sky briefly.

Still no inspiration.

Feron : Feron raised his palm to Tara and returned the wave. He did not know the large, dark haired man; the purple haired woman he recognized immediately from the unusual event held in the simulacra room. "Hail," he said politely to her as well, greeting her in turn. When the Healer appeared, he placed his palms together and gave her a formal bow, but said nothing.

Turning his head back to Zora, he shook his head slightly and tried to smile. "Here. Elsewhere. It does nae matter t'me. You are a wise warrior, aye? I lack experience on the field of combat, and I seek your counsel on a...eh. I..." He squinted. "The word...I am not sure. A situation of hypothesis. Hypothetical," he continued, nodding. "A scenario."

He had grown to care about the people on Muir, which was precisely why he did not want them to know about his impending plight. He had no intentions of threatening them any more than he possibly already had, simply by being here. If Mordo attacked...even a league of Mutare may not be able to repel him, and Feron was quite certain the monster would not hesitate to slay anyone who stood in his way. He could not be responsible for those deaths.

Tara : “I don’t know if I’d say I enjoy it out here but…it’s at least not raining.”

There’s a warning glare cast upwards at the clouds. Not that I can affect what they’re going to do, or not do, as far as dumping onto us, but I can try to be threatening regardless.

My face comes back down with a bit of a surprised look at Psylocke. I didn’t really think she’d take me up on that. Not that I wouldn’t be completely willing to do it.

“Well. Yeah. Just let me know when and I’ll be there and ready to break in my friends.”

Used loosely I suppose. The number of people I actually consider friends anymore could probably be counted on one hand, but I’m cordial enough, and not outright hostile to pretty much everyone. No one lately, has done anything to provoke me though. I turn an extra sweet smile on Moira as she comes out to join us though.

“I know I am. With a partner in crime though, it’s just double the fun. And I have not done anything to myself in weeks.”

Kaito : "More simulation room time? Do we at some point get to learn how to operate it?" *I ask because I'm interested in how the room works and considering the fact it runs on electricity, I would like to be able to know what wires the electricity runs through. although I'm still working on that aspect of my powers*

Moira : "Ah, so the opinion of someone delusional, then. That explains that you interpret a smell where there is none, considering how highly sterile a lab environment has to believe. Though, perhaps it's simply perspective. I believe there's far better scents than . . . shoes, of any sort, for instance."

Dry, detached humor and a faint arch of her eyebrow for Betsy, as she crosses her arms across her chest. "If that was a request for permission, you may. It will, of course, remain voluntary for the students." Fingers drumming on her upper arm--completely unphased by her mentioning North.

It gains no comment whatsoever. That was her plan, as well, for when the children began asking why she'd employed him as a 'janitor' previously and called him another name.

Feron gets a respectful enough dip of her head in return for the bow, before she swivels her gaze to Tara. A doubtful gaze. A highly skeptical one. As if she fully expected Tara had managed to injure herself several times over just walking across the island. Or they'd been attacked in London fetching a wardrobe for Feron, and simply hadn't thought to tell her.

"Of course you haven't."

Zora : *Finding a spot to settle where I can keep an eye on certain folks, offering with a gesture for Feron to join me in sitting.*

"Hypothetically speaking? Go right ahead. What sort of a scenario are you musing over?"

*The Russian man's gazing around does not go unnoticed.*

"If you don't mind the question, Mister Rasputin, missing something or looking for something?"

Colossus : I eye Betsy briefly. Seemingly lost in my own little world. I tilt towards her.

"Yes. I will make something for you if you wish. But I unfortunately am lacking inspiration to continue my art." I lost my muse. It happens to artists sometimes.

"What did you have in mind?"

I give Zora a nod.

"Looking."

Psylocke : "Learning how to operate it is up to Moira. Even I still have trouble with it. That's what interns are for though. Abuse and making them work for you. It's really nice."

I don't really abuse them that much, I do borrow them from time to time to assist with my programming to make sure nothing is going to say, kill someone. Zora's body language is noted. I don't have to be a telepath to read her feelings on the matter. As far as a matter of caring about it or acting upon it? I really don't think I'm going to do either.

"Thank you, Moira. Of course, voluntary."

Piotr gets a mischievious smile. Oh, I don't intend to actually do anything with him at all but I do wonder if he'd be up to the challenge of creating what I had in mind.

"A portrait, something classical. If you're more into cubism and surrealism I might have to find someone else though. I don't think I'd look very attractive in block form. Though...if your inspiration is lacking I can find someone else?"
I'm hoping he will at least give it a try and see if anything clicks. I've modeled for years, I have a good ability to hold still and make dynamic and interesting poses.

Tara : There’s a harrumphing sound coming from me, while I pull a face at Moira.

“I haven’t, as I’m sure you full well know, since you seem to have found room for some sort of radar in that brain of yours that seems to notify you as soon as I have, and you would have come a few minutes after it happened.”

Since, without fail, that’s usually what happens, and the only reason I think I’m usually unsuccessful in hiding whatever damage I do manage to inflict on myself.

“Who needs to operate it? I just want to reap the benefits of other people working it.”

Colossus : "If you want a portrait, I am sure I can make one of you. What size were you looking at?" Canvas size that is.

Purple haired english woman, I can see she has natural beauty.

Feron : He paused for a moment, trying to think of how to word what he wanted to say. "You are facing an enemy of proven cruelty and power well beyond your own. You currently have a small respite from your last encounter, but you know that eventually, you will face your enemy again, and at that encounter, you will either be victorious...or be undone."

Feron's brow furrowed a little. It sounded like an odd thing to ask, but hopefully he had framed it so that it was not so ludicrous. "You are alone. How do you proceed?"

His eyes slowly panned back to the Healer; he had a question to ask her as well, but that definitely was not something he could speak of in open company

Kaito : "If you learned to operate it, you could program whatever scenario you wanted into it." *I reply to Tara as thoughts of various manga ideas to be programmed into the DR run through my head. well that and ninja*

Moira : "Just because I percieve every intern, resident, fellow, attending, and generally my entire research and medical staff as abuseable labor doesnae mean that I'll lend them to just anyone."

And turning her gaze to Kaito, Moira raises an eyebrow. "You'd begin with smaller things. Computers and the like. Learn those, first, and we'll move on from there. You dinnae learn how to fly a jet before you can drive a car."

"Particularly not if it's my jet."

"And beyond that, the students need permission an' a faculty member present tae be in the danger room. You'll nae be programming and using it on yuir own any time soon."

Psylocke : "Something on the medium scale. I don't want it too large."
I'm trying to spell out a size with my hands by spreading them, making an approximate measurement.

"Are you familiar with the venus done by Titian? Well, we can discuss it more in private?"
Considering the subject material and the precense of students it may be innapropriate to talk about one of the raciest paintings of art history. Well, he's looking at me, not in the lusty fashion but he is examining me. This is promising.

Zora : *Taking a few mintues to mull over his scenario - and to wonder about the unspoken parts that his eyes hint of. Time for that later in private.*

"Personally, my tact would be a combination. First, working on my own power to try and, if not bridge the gap, at least narrow the gap between myself and the opponent. Second, locating two to three individuals that might also be willing to fight against this person. A team can often accomplish what's too much for an individual."

Kaito : That's what I meant. I had no intention of trying to learn how to operate something as sophisticated as the Danger Room without learning everything there is to know about computers first."

*brief pause*

"Will we get a chance to learn how to fly the jet?"

Colossus : I give a nod to Betsy. "Certainly."

It does sound like an interesting experience.

Tara : “Or you just wheedle and ask ‘nicely’ and have someone else program it for you, then reap the benefits.”

Sounds much better to me, but he’s probably a lot more…able with electronic equipment than I am. I can barely type properly, programming I think is beyond what I’m willing to attempt. And having it be something I’ll openly admit? Yeah. That means I know better than to try.

“My camera’s about the only gadget I work. And it’s not electronic anyway.”

It’s probably twenty years old. I couldn’t afford a new shiny one when I bought it, but the old ones are just as good as long as you know how to work them.

“What, not going to give us jet piloting lessons now too?”

Feron : He crossed his arms and nodded. "What if the gap was too wide t'cover?" Feron was still considered an Adept; he had a very limited grimoire and knew a number of basic and elemental spells by memory. It was possible he could grow in power, but he no longer had access to a teacher.

"In this...eh...hypothetical, your time is limited. You may nae be able to increase your own power and gather allies; which would you focus on?"

Chewing on the inside of his lip for a second, he shrugged. "Flight may be an option. Would you consider escape dishonorable?" Mordo said he had eliminated most of the mystics of Europe, and based on the character of the man, even that might have been a lie. Either way, there were other continents the fae could seek refuge in; perhaps one among them had a champion under whom he could take refuge.

Moira : Moira was rolling her eyes.

No, really. It wasn't a subtle expression at all. With a derisive snort and Betsy's conversation with Colossus, she shakes her head. "Bloody hell." She was going to build her own ego even more. And coming from Moira, who's ego was by no means underfed, that was an amusing thought.

"You can learn tae fly the jet in simulation sometime--it costs far more to think about fueling the jet than you likely suspect. However, that simulation will wait until far after Ms. Braddock here does hers. I dinnae want anyone getting ideas about joyrides."

Why did she always choose to look at Tara, there, like she thought it'd be the redhead acting as ringleader? Because she was already convinced the girl was trying to find her old motorcycle for the same purpose. The jet would be even more tempting.

"It's more impressive that you work a camera that's nae electronic, Tara. The new ones attempt tae take away most of the work."

Psylocke : "Good going, Moira. Next he'll ask to use your lab!"
I'm quietly snickering to myself and staying out her affairs with her students and her encouraging them to handle some of the bigger toys on the island.

"Thank you, Piotr."

I give Moira a look and a shrug. Like I would hang a painting of myself on my mantle? It wasn't for me. I'm not that obsessed with myself but I will admit to being vain.

Kaito : "Right, so answer is yes but eventually." *I reply with a bit of a smirk as I notice Moira roll her eyes. even learning how to fly a simulate version of the jet works for me.*

"You might want to try digital camera, Tara. No worries about film."

Zora : "We in the business prefer to refer to that as a tactical retreat. If your foe has superior power, letting him choose the time and place of battle is unsound. If you can pull back and strengthen your own position? That's wisdom, not dishonorable. Dishonorable would only come into it if you sacrificed an alliance to cover your retreat."

"And if I had to choose? I'd go for allies. Have you ever heard the fable of the man and his sons?"

Tommy : Suddenly standing next to Tara, with a concerned raise of the eyebrow. This facial expression bespeaks of the fact that I have been utterly blown away by something that I heard on the way in. Something that I'm mulling over in deep though before speaking a word about. Something so utterly preposterous that I'm having a hard time just saying, 'The fuck you say.'

My mouth opens then and, "You look amazing tonight, Tara, not that you're surprised. You always look amazing."

"Kaitowasfryingthefrigeratoryesterdaynow hewantstoflyajet? Rainmanwantedtodriveacartokmarttooasshat ."

Kaito : *when Tommy suddenly appears and talks at warp speed, it takes longer than usual to figure out what the hell he just said. yeah, I understand English but not so much when it is being spoken at warp speed*

"Fridge is okay, it's still running."

Psylocke : "Hello Thomas."
I grin softly though I'm idly considering if he should even be allowed in my excersiZes if he cannot manage to be nice.

"He does have a point, Moira. With his powers uncontrolled any contact with electronics, including the very expensive simulation room and the jet should be approached with caution until he's got himself under control."
The thoughts of how much money would be put into repairs just makes me cringe.

"...that's what you said, right Thomas? I think I only heard every other word."

Tara : I know exactly what that look is. I don’t even have the grace to try to look confused as to why I’m getting it either. No. Instead I just arch my back, rounding out a swinging of my arm into stretching it over my head. Just because my stretching got interrupted, it doesn’t mean I have to quit doing it. Not like I can’t talk at the same time. The weighing myself down part though, that stopped when I wasn’t concentrating just on me anymore. I don’t’ want to smoosh myself tonight.

“The electronic ones are retarded. Mine works better and I can make it do whatever I need without having to decipher out little buttons.”

I screw up my face a little at Kaito’s suggestion.

“The film is half the fun. What’s the point if you can’t do the whole thing yourself?”

It irked me to have to send film home to have my brother do it for me. I mean, I trust him to not ruin it during processing, but I actually really enjoy the whole…process myself. Not that I take pictures of what anyone else would really think were terribly important things, but I plaster the walls of my room with them just the same. I gave up on frames a while ago though. Those get broken on this island too often.

Tommy’s sudden appearance? Well. He gets an honest grin, and when I finish off my stretch, the arm gets looped around him instead of behind my head.

“Of course I’m not surprised, since I’m fully aware. You can still say it all you want anyway though. Vain creature that I am, and all.”

So sue me if I happen to really like it when my boyfriend pays attention to me. I think I ..maybe caught most of what he said. I’m getting better at deciphering when he doesn’t talk slowly than I used to be.

Zora : "Mister Shepherd."

*I don't have to look away from Feron to greet him. Nobody around outside of Pietro speaks that fast and Pietro has a more lyrical voice.

Feron : Feron eyed Tommy when he appeared, but then simply turned back to Zora. "I have heard many fables of men and sons, but I always enjoy hearing another."

Moira : "Tommy." Greeting and warning note, eyes narrowing slightly as the speedster appears. And a slight turn of her head to take in Betsy, eyebrow raised.

"Thank you, Elisabeth. I'm well aware of how tae ease a student into lessons according to their ability and control." There wasn't simply a hint of sarcasm there, it was fairly well drenched in it. She'd been running the school for years without such 'astute' advice.

"I suppose for the newcomer to the conversation. . . " flicking her fingers at Tommy while keeping her eyes on Betsy--there was little doubt who she was repeating herself for. "I will reiterate that you dinnae jump ahead in lessons to the most advanced without first learning the other stages."

She really did do far better when she avoided these gatherings. She was a much more pleasant person when there weren't other people around.

Tommy : There is a momentary look of mild indifference at the telepath, followed by a very curt shrug of the shoulders, and my turning back to Tara. Speaking openly, and upfrontly. "I got a package from Doctor Richards."

Fishing into my shirt to pull out the Fanstastic Four pennant and necklace. "It's supposed to give me a chance to resist being molested by every headcase that happens to visit the island."

With her arms laced around my neck though, I'll move to sneak a celebratory kiss from her, and add exclamation points to fact that I am paying every bit of attention to her.

Attention that only is split when I notice that Zora is here. "Hey, Professor Fox is back? Wickness. I wanna learn to knife fight, next semester. Foxy, this is Spock, his real name is Feron though. I just call him Spock because he always gives me that Vulcan-gonna-neck-pinch-you look."

Whispering for Tara's benefit. "You know... when Moira talks like that it's kind of eerie. She rolls right over anything anyone else says. Just like you."

Zora : "A man with six sons called them together and asked them to each bring him two sticks, each stick about the thickness of their smallest finger. When they returned, he took one stick from each and tied the six sticks into a bundle before asking them to break the remaining sticks in half. Each son easily broke the stick they had brought back. Then the man handed the bundle to the eldest and asked him to try and break the bundle in half. He couldn't and neither could any of the other brothers went asked. The father told them to always remember those sticks - and that no man by himself is as strong as a man that stands with others at his side."

Kaito : "My control is better now." *I reply to Betsy with just a hint of annoyance in my tone. it's true as I'm not nearly as concerned I am with shocking people as I used to be, nor am I that worried about frying an electronic appliance by touching it*

*when Tommy mentions he got some sort of package from Mr Fantastic, i'm tempted to ask if I can take a look at it to check out the wires. however I refrain from doing so when I realize that it's some sort of tech I have no understanding of*

Zora : "Refer to me by that nickname again, Mister Shepherd, and you might be learning other fighting styles sooner than intended. Kindly do not repeat that one. My name has been slaughtered quite enough already."

Psylocke : "I'm glad Moira. That's certainly not my area of expertise."
I'd be happier working in some other country undercover and unlocking the secrets of some super secret organization.

My eyes roll at Thomas. I keep my words silent but I'm rather mentally cursing and otherwise implying he's a prat and I want little more to do with him if I can help it.

"That's nice, Thomas. Just remember this headcase isn't obligated to do anything for you in the future."
I'm not a teacher, I'm not in Moira's employ. I don't really have to be doing anything for the students, specially if they can't manage a pinch of respect despite a mistake I made.

It's always lovely that how even among other mutants, telepaths are still treated with prejudice. I wave my hand dismissively, keeping my temper in check. I should meditate or something.

Tommy : "Did she mean the Professor part or the Foxy part?"

That is when I finally say it. "Moira, I'd like you to take me to the Constables office in the morning. After talking to Doctor Richards, I would like to file charges for the mental assaults I have endured while here."

Tara McKinley : To Camden Town!

Tue, 19 Jun 2007 08:12:53 GMT

Tara : London may not be warm, really, but at least in comparison to Muir Island it’s a little bit more temperate today. We won’t, sadly, be escaping the rain but hey. Weather is apparently against me. I checked around for forecasts of places that weren’t too far out (not that it matters that much with the planned mode of transportation), but rain is pretty well plagueing this entire portion of the globe right now. Mostly? I just didn’t want to bother with exchanging currencies.

Shrugging into a limey green jacket, I’m tugging long hair up out of the hood while I wait by the front doors of the facility for everyone else that’s coming along. I already went and got the money from Moira a little bit earlier, under threat of something all sorts of horrible if I used it for myself, rather than the intended purpose. I wasn’t actually that scared, but I wouldn’t have done that to Feron anyway.

Besides, I’ve got my own cash, should I find anything I want.

Davis : I feel like I'm slumming it today, I didn't or I'm not, more correctly, bothering to get all that dressed up for this 'adventure' we're going on. It's London, not like I need to get all fancied up for something for a shopping trip so instead of doing my normal and heading out for the day until now? I've sat around watching the tele and dozing.

I figured that way I can't be late or forget about it, y'know?

I've been waiting for the past few minutes at the door, leaning against it while lazily twirling an umbrella in one hand, a second hanging off my belt. Will I need both? Oh no, as much as I dislike rain I'm not that odd about it, but there is more than just me going, y'know.

"Hey Tara."

Don't so much have to look to figure out whom it is, tinkle of jewelry and all alerts well enough, nevermind I am expecting Feron to come into the facility from outside anyway.

Feron : Feron never minded the rain; in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Every droplet of water was a reminder of the cycle of renewal; an illustration of life as balance. He had on a thick, black hooded cloak to keep his 'normal' clothes dry. At one time they had been in fairly good condition, but after a bad run through the woods, the light grey sweatsuit had gotten bloodstained and shredded in several places. Vigorous scrubbing had lifted the stains a bit, and some fine needlework had mended the gaping tears, but it was still obvious that they were well-worn. Over his head was a wool skullcap; he'd pulled the edges down to hide the tips of his ears, not wanting a repeat of the incident that had happened on his original journey to the isle. It had taken a little bit of scavenging, but he'd gotten a pair of 'tennis shoes' from the Healer. They were...odd and somewhat stiff; it felt like someone had strung a pair of small boxes around his ankles. He had stumbled a bit at first; not used to the relatively bulky shape.

"Hail, Tara, Davis," he called out, raising a hand as he approached.

"Where are we going?" he asked as the rain pattered off the fabric of his hood.

Tara : “Hey boys, set to go?”

Though I guess that’s to be assumed, since they’re here at the agreed upon takeoff point. There’s a nod of my head to greet first Davis, then Feron as he comes wandering up towards the building. I’m pulling my jacket’s hood over my hair while I step out into the rain. It’s not that I’m not used to the precipitation. I just need something to complain about, right?

“I was thinking London, unless there’s somewhere you’d rather go Feron? And I think Constantinople is still not really an option, before you say that one again.”

A bit of a teasing grin, before I go on.

“I at least sort of know where a good chunk of stores there are, not like we can’t navigate pretty much anywhere though, right?”

I have some gift certificates left from Christmas, too, but those can be used anytime.

Davis : "'ey Feron."

I'm glad he's back from wherever he had needed to go. I didn't have any concerns I wouldn't see him again, after all, but I'm still glad he's back. Something happened, obviously, it'd take a dolt not to realize that, but he'll either work it out, ask for help, or it'll overwhelm him? Somethin' like that.

"As set as I need to be."

Cause, let's face it, this is everyday for me. Not necessarily with passengers, but 'porting about? Like breathing at this point. I do wish it was a bit warmer in ye olde London town... e.

"Istanbul, once Constantinople?"

Stupid songs, stupid songs that get stuck in my head and root in there despite my best wishes.

The Warp Wave opens in the doorway once Feron's inside, this way we don't really have to walk out into the rain, y'know? I already know the other side is anchored in one of the more... liberal areas in London. Where we'll be largely free of any harassment we probably wouldn't get anyway.

"Let's just hope I'm awake enough not to dump us in the ocean."

Offering the spare umbrella to either that wants to take it, flicking my own open and motioning.

"Okay kids, everyone into the pool."

Feron : "Ready, aye." He had considered bringing his staff along, but somehow, he didn't think it would fit the venue. He felt a little exposed without it; he'd never really been separated from it for more than an hour or so. Even when he'd gone running or swimming or done anything else, it was slung across his back.

"I'm nae opposed t'London," he replied, nodding. One city was just like any other, he supposed: foreign and intimidating. "Mayhap Davis can take us t'Istanbul another day." He glanced over at the blonde, offering a polite smile.

"Is there nae an avenue for merchants t'display their wares?" Feron raised an eyebrow, hoping that she knew what she was doing. The last thing he wanted was to become lost in some titan-sized stone labyrinth.

"Dry land, if ye please, Mister Cameron," he said with a hint of amusement, holding up a palm to pass on the umbrella. The hood and cloak would suffice; he had no idea how to work that parasol contraption anyhow.

Steeling his resolve, he raised his chin and walked straight into the portal, having experienced the not-altogether-unpleasant effect once before.

Tara : Davis’ response to my little quip at Feron? Even better, and it makes me let out a snort of laughter, because I know he’s got the same stupid song jammed up there now that I had when Feron and I had originally discussed cities to go visit.

“Exactly, Davis. Thank you.”

Snagging the umbrella from him, since Feron apparently doesn’t want it. He’s more fond of nature and weather than I am anyway, so I’m flicking the top of it open, and lifting it over my head, the other hand pulling my hood down again. Not much reason for it and the umbrella at the same time, is there?

“There is actually. I was figuring Camden Town’d be the best place to start with. It’s usually kinda crowded, but I think this time of day, and with the weather being what it is, it actually may not be too bad. There’s stalls on the street, and some indoor ones, too. And lots of pubs and eating places. It’s actually pretty neat. Some of the shops are completely odd but others have good finds.”

And they shouldn’t be too overpriced, like a department store might be. Somehow I doubt Feron’s going to be too picky about name brands and the like anyway. And I’m barreling on through the portal Davis has opened. I’ve done it before, and then sensation is actually pretty neat, I think.

Davis : The trip isn't anything to write home about, nothin' much to see, nothin' to do but wait the perceived seconds it takes to cross the distance in the not all uncomfortable manifestation of my power. Me? I'm at home in it and I enjoy the sensation, the only thing I haven't done is try and find out what happens if I pitch off my board, when I'm using it, or collapse the Wave while I'm in it. I figure it'd be bad, but I'm not in any rush to find out the truth.

Landing, for them, might be a bit rough yet, but they've both been through before, I'm sure they'll catch their feet without falling. Neither of them are sleeping on the trip, so between being aware and my own compensation for the exit it should be fine.

"Ding ding, last stop, Camden Town."

Already I'm a bit dour from being in the rain as opposed to seeing it. It's not effecting me to such a degree I change my mannerisms, but now I just feel damp.

Odd considering I like to swim.

"Everyone in one piece? No one missing a limb or anything? No? Whew, good to know, that control is tricky."

Here we are, though, even if Tara hadn't given me the idea to come here it's where I would've ended up (most likely) anyway. It's near the courier office I sometimes get jobs through.

Feron : Feron exited the portal and hit the concrete in a crouch, ready for the abrupt return to solid ground. He was surprised at the cushioning the 'tennis shoes' gave; the boar leather strap bindings he usually wore on his feet provided excellent mobility and traction, but didn't do much to absorb the blows from jumping or running. It was perhaps part of the reason he'd developed his telekinesis so intently, so that it didn't really matter.

Sidestepping the portal opening, he backed against the nearest wall, surveying his surroundings through narrowed eyes. He definitely had his 'fight or flight' gameface on, and he was extremely tense. The first thing that hit him was the sheer amount of noise. Some of the sounds he couldn't even identify, and imagining what was causing them just made him more wary. The second thing he realized was how dark it was; the buildings rose higher than most of those at Muir and cast long shadows in their wake.

The short seconds that passed before Davis and Tara arrived seemed to stretch into an eternity. Maybe they weren't coming; maybe this was just one of those...'practical jokes' people seemed fond of playing at. Maybe the portal was going to close and they were going to leave him here; maybe he should jump back through quickly before that happened.

Feron realized he hadn't been breathing and sucked in a long breath, closing his eyes to calm himself. If millions of technologically-advanced-but-morally-and -spiritually-bankrupt humans could manage to survive and thrive in these cities, he could manage to find a way of doing it as well.

Then his friends appeared, and he took a step away from the brick wall he'd been trying to melt into, crossing his arms. "Here we are, then."

Tara : “Nope, and I think my eyes are still in the proper place as well.”

Shifting the umbrella to my other hand, there’s a bit of a shake of my head at Davis’ cracking a joke. At least I assume it is, he’s never vocalized any concern over the wellbeing of his passengers before. And he’s more of the responsible sort than I am, somehow I doubt he’d been porting multiple of us at once if he was really that worried about potential mishaps. My landing was nice and light, of course I was ready for it this time, so there was no stumbling (not that it happened last time…no…) as I descended much more slowly than is natural.

“You okay, Feron?”

So maybe I should have gone through first, instead of him, but doesn’t look like anything unfortunate happened to him in the few seconds it took me to get through. I’m sure I’m going to have to keep reminding myself, though, that this is all new to him, what Davis and I probably take for granted as being completely normal.

“No worries, I won’t let anything get you. This place is busy most of the time, but usually pretty safe so far as shopping goes anyway.”

I’m already eyeballing a stall full of corsets and assorted other oddities…but I’m not going to drag the two of them through that one. Not that I’d be the least embarrassed about it, but I think Feron might be. And again, I can just come back later. It’s not the sort of item I was technically looking for anyway. I’m supposed to get more ‘professional’ looking clothes for work. Or at least as professional as I’m willing to go. Peering down one way, then the other, I’m taking a second to orient myself, and try to remember what’s where.

I haven’t been here that often, but often enough.

“Down this way I think, to the less…exotic stuff. Somehow I doubt you’re going to want anything with leather and chains. Anything you’re looking for Davis? Or just being nice and letting us haul you?”

Davis : "Oh Feron, don't worry about this place. Sure, it smells and it's loud and there are a lot of people none of us know, but what's the worst that could happen? Tara starts a fight, we get hauled into it, the authorities come and Moira has to come get us. And then we're all in trouble, but that's totally, absolutely, almost for certain worse case scenario."

Pausing for a minute.

"Totally."

For a moment I thought maybe he'd have a problem with the trip again, last time he was much more focused, this time he might've had more time to focus on what was going on, but no, it seems it's just the city that had him edgy.

I'm okay with that.

"I'm here to make sure you don't start trouble, Tara. I don't really have anything to go get, so it's just making sure you two make it back safely."

I wasn't aware that I needed to be here for anything other than to chaperone to some degree or another. I would've figured Feron would be the most mature out of us, but they did need transportation.

Feron : "Aye, I am fine." Having very little practice in the art of deception, he was, of course, terrible at it. After a breath's pause, however, he added, "I will be fine once I adjust, thanks." He wanted to ball his hands into fists, but he managed to present a fairly placid demeanor.

Davis was entirely correct in his descriptions. Beneath the crashing and honking and ambient chatter the wind carried an almost mournful tone; perhaps the earth suffocated here, buried under so much debris. Then there was the odor - or odors, really, as there were so many mixing together he could not split them apart.

"Usually safe?" Feron asked, widening his eyes somewhat. "Do ye mean t'tell me that there are brigands about, or wild animals, or some kind of clockwork golems prowling the lanes?" He gave her a solemn wink. "I am certain that if we face any unruly characters who threaten life or limb, ye shall be the first to do something on it." If they were going to get into trouble for anything, he was willing to wager it was Tara going mad and crushing the life out of some thugs.

Naturally, he did not say as much. At least, not in so many words.

His brow furrowed a little at her comments on 'exotic stuff'. He almost spoke up, reminding her that his shoes were mystically-treated boar leather, but he got the impression that it wasn't what she meant. As for chains...he had no idea what she was talking about. "I prefer cloth to metal," he said, hoping it was an appropriate response.

Tara : “Hey, I’ll have you know I have never started any of the fights I’ve been in off the island.”

I only sounds slightly indignant. But it’s true. We’re always ambushed, or something similar, by whatever group has decided it wants to give a shot at maiming the Muir Island Crew, for whatever stupid reason. So maybe I finish the fights as quick and forcefully as I can, but I don’t start them.

“So, as long as no guys with guns jump out of the windows and start trying to mow us down? I’ll be a perfectly behaved little lady.”

Leading the way down the indicated direction, I shake my head at Feron with a little laugh, especially after his wink.

“ ‘Brigands’ would be potentially the most likely of those, I think. Probably no wild animals in London. Unless you count rats. And flying rats. But I don’t think even the thugs are going to have much chance of popping up, and if they do well… I still won’t have started that fight!”

But. Yes. Feron would probably be the most adult behaving of all of us, Davis tops mine, so I highly doubt there’ll be much trouble for me to get into while we’re here.

“Moira said I’m not allowed to dress you in cheetah prints. So I suppose Davis is your defense against me trying to coerce you into buying weird stuff. I’m pretty sure you can figure out what you like on your own though…”

Stopping in front of a stall, I close my umbrella while I step under the awning, so I take up at least a little less space. The tables are covered in pants and shirts of assorted patterns, fabrics… mostly looks like jeans and cotton shirts though, a variety of screen printings ranging from team logos, to television characters.

Not really to my taste, but I think it’s pretty well established that I’m the only one who likes my taste on the island.

Davis : "She's talking about things either of us want to hear about, Feron. It's easier to just know she's not talking about metal you'd wear in any commonly accepted way."

And she can correct me if I'm wrong, but I'd venture the guess Tara couldn't defend herself from that accusation even if she had to. It's also, though, nothing I really want to have confirmed and denial would only really make it seem like covering. So I'm good with making the joke and hopefully letting it die.

"You say you haven't started the fight. Maybe it's like Chaos Theory, though, you use your powers to make a ball float, somewhere over here some group decides they need to come beat up Muir without a clear reason. Totally effecting one of what would be two identical groups of thugs just because you used your powers. Shame. It's such a flawless idea, though, it has to be true."

I don't make any comment on what Tara isn't supposed to get Feron to wear, because frankly I have faith in him knowing that whatever Tara would say he absolutely has to wear? He shouldn't at all. He might be naive about the world, but I have yet to get any kind of impression he's anything but smart.

I'll browse what there is for sale, but unless asked something directly I'm probably not going to speak up just now. Nothing is really standing out begging to be commented on just yet.

Feron : Feron's mouth shaped to form a question, but he decided he'd rather not know the answer. It probably had something to do with deviance or violence, neither of which was something he tended to lean towards. "As you say, Tara," he mentioned quietly, falling into step behind her.

"Perhaps mere existence brings about conflict." The statement was succinct, but strong. His father and brothers had not overtly instigated their own destruction, but they would not have been targeted if they had not existed as they did. To practice arcane arts, this was enough reason to die. To be one of the mutare, this was enough reason to die. To have emerald eyes and pointed ears...this was enough reason to die. They were hard lessons, but ones necessary to survive in the modern world. Hate begat hate, and hate needed no reasoning to give it birth, only unbridled emotion.

He hugged the buildings as they walked, avoiding the streets, and kept his eye contact on any one thing as brief as possible. There was simply no way Tara was going to deck him out in any kind of animal print, regardless of species. If she knew anything about him it was that he was a simple person with simple values and simple tastes.

When they stepped under the awning, he pushed back the hood of his cloak, giving the fabric a good shake to loose the water it was accumulating. This 'marketplace' experience reminded him of something he'd read as a child; he half expected patrons to be hawking their fruit and chickens to be running underfoot.

"I recognize this image," he said curiously, picking up a white t-shirt off the stacks and unfolding it. On the front, it had a picture of a square yellow shape with eyes and limbs and a giant grin. "This is that happy fellow who lives under the sea. On the television. Ye know...? The children watch that program." He squinted. "Bob."

Tara : “Mmhm. As I say. I like the sound of that. If Chaos Theory works like that though, and is behind why we get the sort of violent attention we do back at school? There really should be a lot more coming. I mean, really.”

With the sheer amount of time I put into practicing anyway, it ought to really have brought more down on us. Aside from the fact that if it really worked like that? I’d be putting more work into making folks come and attack. Because. Well. I possibly enjoy the chance to flex those particular muscles far too much.

If he wants to walk against the wall, I’m not saying anything. Means more a view for me while we travel. And really, I don’t think Feron has much to worry about. Compared to a lot of the people I’ve seen around Camden? He’s downright normal looking. Even with a cloak. So I’d be surprised if anyone really even raised an eyebrow at him.

Leaning over to peer at the shirt he’s holding up, I shrug a little.

“Spongebob? I think that’s his name.”

I don’t watch the cartoon, but I’ve got enough recognition of the figure to have a name for it. So really, Feron was pretty close.

Davis : "Maybe there is, the catch is we wouldn't know of it's coming, only when it gets to us."

I'm sure some part of Tara is now hoping that is the case, so she can cause more trouble, but I don't want to ask and find out I'm right, if you ask me Muir could use a few months of the shit not hitting the fan. I'd enjoy not feeling like something is right around the corner and going to happen.

"You're probably right, Feron. Collective unconsciousness pushes everyone into conflict to perpetuate advancement in all areas of life."

Or something. I smirk a bit at his choice of shirt to hold up.

"Who.. lives ina Pineapple, under the sea.. Spongebob Squarepants. Absorbent and yellow and porous is he."

I have never watched a full episode of the show, but you catch the themesong once and it's in your head forever. Swear to god.

Feron : "Consider also all of the attacks on the isle that are aborted before they arrive," he said calmly, without looking up from the t-shirt. "There is nae a way t'ever be certain of what violence is conjured up but fails t'manifest. Such things are important t'keep in mind, aye?"

"I like this," he declared without changing his tone, as he refolded the cloth. It was bright and warm and nonthreatening. He had watched the program occasionally with some of the young students on the island in an attempt to better understand the development of youth. The attempt had ended when he'd engaged the children in a post-show discussion about the concepts the character had been proposing.

They had been more frank than he'd anticipated, and their comments were more revealing than they could have possibly understood.

Reaching up to scratch his forehead, he shrugged at Cameron. "'Survival of the fittest', is this nae the statement of evolution?"

Picking up another t-shirt, he examined the letters printed across the front, and put it back down. Female Body Inspector, indeed. How crass.

Tara : Davis just knows all those irritating songs, doesn’t he? I’ve tilted back my head and started laughing, paused with one hand holding up a t-shirt that says ‘Guns Don’t Kill People, Mad Cows Kill People.” It’s not really one I was considering buying, I was more just reading the logo up closer.

“Like the cartoons, do you Davis?”

Now it’s going to be stuck in my head, and I didn’t even know all the words beforehand.

“He said what I was going to. Survival of the fittest. Part of evolution and all that. Animals with better traits live to make more animals, and the ones without em die out, I think that’s how it went…”

Obviously that part of biology class had come after I started actually trying. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to rattle it off in any way, shape or form.

“Ooh, FBI. That’s a good one. Moira sent on enough money to get you at least a few sets of clothes, so just start whatever of a pile you want. “

Putting back the cow shirt, I’m snagging one that I think I actually will get. Just because it’s made me snort, if nothing else. I don’t usually wear t-shirts, except for when I’m working out, but I could definitely wear it. Practice Safe Lunch! (Use a Condiment) proclaimed in black letters, below a trio of happy looking ketchup, mustard and mayo bottles.

Davis : "Charles Darwin at his finest, Feron. Not the most optimistic outlook on life, but it's hard to argue the fact that conflict does seem to bring out the most improvement. Even if the end result is for a weapon, if it wasn't for advancements in technology in World War 2 and the use of internal combustion engines in planes we wouldn't have the engines in autos that we have today. But no one really thinks about that."

Most just think about war. Or how to perpetuate war. Or what measures it will take to definately end a war. I'd be sad that most significant advances in society are because of war, but it's just human nature.

"Not really, but I know the theme sadly."

I'd think Tara would know by now if I'm actually watching television it's on one of the sports themed channels. I don't follow most any other than surfing, but to see what little is actually reported I have to watch through everything else, first. Only so much about football I can stand before I flip through the channels.

And while they're picking cloths, I'm not worrying about it, spinning my umbrella a bit in wait. I could go see if there is any work for me, but I can do that before we leave, too.

Feron : "I have begun tending the greenhouses, so I will repay the Healer whatever funds she lent you t'dispense." Feron had already started work with the plants; it took a few days to figure out how all the automatic systems worked, but in the end, where he failed with gadgets and contrivances he always succeeded with magic.

"Perhaps life was just fine before the wonders of technology, Mister Cameron," Feron said, grinning innocently. "Peoples waged war and inspired conflict and growth with sticks and stones long before embracing the point-and-click methodology of modern weapons." Point-and-click...ha! That had come out without him even trying.

"Are there shirts and long pants without any...embellishments? Just...basic colors? Green, perhaps? Gold? Is purple very expensive?" Those indigo-violet shades had always been a sign of royalty, but perhaps things had changed.

At the rate they were progressing, it was going to take hours to accumulate a wardrobe. Tara seemed to be enjoying herself; Davis seemed utterly bored. Gender distinction? Or personality trait? Perhaps both, perhaps neither. Cultural, mayhap. He would have to keep an eye on the native Londoners to get a better profile.

Tara : “They waged wars before there were cars and guns, yup. Anglo-French invasion of Ireland, blahblah..”

I’m not big on history. I know the points as concerns my own nation of origin though, or at least, I know the big ones.

“Yeeah. I don’t like that Constantinople song, and yet it gets stuck up there anyway. They really shouldn’t make stupid songs so goddamn catchy all the time.”

I’m snickering under my breath again, while I pick up a shirt with an airplane on it, and the letters MHC beneath the wings. I’m already digging in my pocket to fork over the money of my own for the two t-shirts I’ve decided I actually want, and Feron’s Spongebob. I wasn’t going to buy casual stuff.. oh well.

“Nope, all colors are usually the same price. We can look around, there’s a booth down there that might have plainer stuff. Or if nothing else, we can ask Davis nicely to zip us over to a department store. They might be more likely to have ones with no logos on them, though.”

Just plain athletic style t-shirts maybe.

“She doesn’t expect you to pay her back on it, we all get a bit of an ‘allowance’ anyway. But. Jobs are good too.”

I’m anxious to start mine.

Davis : "Oh, life was probably a lot better before technology, but in this day and age it's hard to imagine life without what has become so accepted that it's a necessity for life."

I'm certainly not saying he's wrong, because I know he's right about that. I would venture Tara would agree even. What we know of earlier times, they were difficult to live in, but there was a very definitive sign of change depending on just how hard you worked. That ideal is blurred nowadays, though.

"I'm sure we can find something unembellished around here, this area has enough variety if we don't find something without a picture on it I'd be surprised. I'd suggest polo shirts, but I don't know if that'd be so much your style, Feron."

They're really much completely unadorned, but short sleeves and collars don't seem Feron's style at all.

"Or, yeah, department stores would have plain shirts to buy."

Feron : "That she does nae expect it, Tara, is why I must do it," Feron said, smiling genuinely at her for the first time in many weeks. He had accepted the Healer's generosity, and even promised not to explicitly thank her - though why, he could not fathom. He did not intend to become further indebted to her, even if the debt was felt only by him.

Hard for you, the fae almost said to Davis, but thought better of it. It was all to easy to imagine drawing water by hand, tilling fields by hand, crafting furnature by hand...but remembering such things wore heavy on his heart.

"Polo shirts? Is that some sort of uniform?" he said, distracting himself from the sadness. He was familiar with the sport, but he couldn't exactly recall what the riders wore; only that they rode horses and swung sticks at some kind of rock or ball. "Show me," he asked.

"What is a 'department' store?"

Tara : “Well, she’ll appreciate someone helping out in the greenhouse at the very least, even if not for the payback on the money.”

And after seeing the fixed tree, he’s bound to be good with the plants. Which is probably more than we can say for any of the rest of us on the island. So perfectly suitable for a means of paying back, if that’s what he really wants to do.

“Polo shirts might be good, they’d probably look snazzy on him. Polo shirt. Its… usually a woven sort of fabric, with a collar and a couple buttons on top. Liiike…”

I’m glancing around, trying to find one, because I’m pretty sure I’m describing it horribly. Aha. There we go. Darting across the walkway to a stall on the other side, I grab a dark blue polo, with thin green horizontal stripes, holding it up so that Feron can see what we’re talking about.

“Davis is right though, someone’s gotta have just plain shirts here somewhere.”

Davis : "Department stores are pretty much what they sound like. It is a store, usually larger than your normal, that is broken up into various departments to accomodate a variety of goods. Most you find will break the store up into men and women's clothing, children's clothing, shoes, housewares, electronics and usually one other that's unique to the store chain. Be it automotive, audio, hair salons, even eateries I guess. They're meant to help ease the amount of travel involved to get everything you need."

Wordier than I'd need to be with anyone else, but Feron isn't just some random guy. In a world of unique people, he's probably one of the most.

Maybe it's the ears.

"Like I got this shirt at a department store."

Tugging a bit at the gray number I have on.

"I suppose a good question would be what would you like to get, Feron. As much as we could cart you around to any number of places we would shop at and buy clothing at, what we would get may not be anything what you would want."

It seemed like a fair question to ask him, though, since if all he's looking for are plain pants and shirts, we're really in the wrong place.

Feron : "It gives me something t'do with my early mornings." And evenings, not that he was actually lacking in activities to fill his day. Between his own physical regimen, his training with Professor Fox, and his mystical studies, the hours under the sun - or clouds, as it were - were already pretty full.

Listening as Davis described the term, Feron merely blinked. It wasn't what it had sounded like; it had sounded like something official - a government center. Somewhere unlawful refugees - 'illegal aliens', the television had called them - were clothed and then expelled, maybe. Why that image popped into his head, he had no idea. Something to do with the word 'department', maybe it was too similar to 'departing'...a past tense.

He nodded at Tara and Davis. "Small steps, for now, aye. Simple. Basic colors. Basic fabric. Natural, if ye please. This is all very new. Stripes...I can handle, I should think." Reaching back to rub his neck, he suddenly sparked up. "I liked those pants with the pockets. Right here," he explained, touching the sides of his thighs. "T'carry cargo in, ye know?"

All sorts of useful things fit into those huge pockets.

Tara : “One stop shopping. For the folks that don’t want to wander around to different places.”

Putting the polo shirt back down on the table, if he wants it, he can pick it back up, and if there’s anything else he spots that seems acceptable.

“Y’know what those pants are called, Feron? Cargo pants. Good easy description, huh?”

I’m not mocking him really, there’s nothing snide or sneering to my tone. I know he calls things by what they look like, or what their use is sometimes. So on this occasion? He actually would have been totally right if he named them such.

“And I’m absolutely positive they’ll have those at the bigger store. Hang on one sec, I saw a shirt over there I want to get for Tommy. Then we’ll head over there, and get the rest of what you want.”

Maybe some shoes that fit him better. He might like running shoes, those usually fit closer to the foot, so maybe they’d be more comfortable.

Tara McKinley : Finding the Center

Wed, 06 Jun 2007 03:05:48 GMT

Tara : The weather is well. The norm for here. Except it’s not raining. Yet. The sky sure looks like it though, gray and overcast, the sort of clouds that you get used to seeing, and know that they mean pretty soon they’re going to open up and dump more rain than you’d possibly want on your head. Of course. Most people stay indoors around here for that sort of thing, it seems. Whether it’s interns shut up in the lab (like they ever see the light of day), or my fellow students who are apparently afraid of getting a little wet.

I’ve gotten used to it. None of my sweatshirts lack for hoods, and when I’m outside and not planning to be moving around a lot, I have the common sense to bring my jacket as well, to throw on over the sweatshirt. Trudging out across the grass and dirt, I’m winding my way into the woods, my usual chosen spot at the tree with the target painted onto it. I usually don’t get bothered out here, it’s not really close enough to where anyone else is going to be that I’ll wind up bothering anyone else should the desire to curse and carry on strike me. Which lets face it. Sometimes it does. A lot of the time it does.

Squinting up at the threatening clouds again, blue eyes narrowed beneath the green hood pulled over my hair. If it wants to rain, it should just do it and be done. Not that the rain’s ever going to stop here, something to do with evaporation of the ocean going up into the clouds. Locational hazard of living by any large body of water. Still stupid though, beaches should be sunny and warm. Not that I’ve ever been to one that was either of those. Maybe someday.

What was it they’d been talking about? Sensing something there from the pull. Between what though, me? The planet itself? That’s usually the biggest contributor, what I use when I’m trying to drag things down, it’s the easiest for that reason I guess. That it’s so big. Same as pushing things upwards. Just an opposite reaction. The leaves, pinecones and the like laying around, everything should have a pull. I can make the small things move to the large, maybe I just need to be more aware. Doing it in relation to me is pretty easy, but of course I’m always pretty aware of myself.

So. What do we have here? A large tree. Squinting a bit, as I drop my eyes back from the sky, to the target in front of me. I’m trying to concentrate, trying to find the center, how it gets held to the ground from the pull of the huge planet on it. It’s just so easy to switch that pull.. to make it go the other way, now that I know what I’m looking for. I don’t want to rip the tree up though, Moira’d probably not appreciate me deforesting her island, and I wouldn’t know how easily the tree could be put back and continue on unharmed with its whole. Living as a tree thing. I settle for pulling the fallen items back upwards into the branches. I know they won’t stay there, once I stop forcing them, but it wasn’t meant to be a permanent sort of thing.

The leaves start to shift and move, the rocks too, and I’m narrowing my eyes. They weren’t what I was aiming for specifically, but they’ll be fine, so long as I stay out from under where they’d be falling. Which is closer to the trunk, and I’m a few paces back at least. What’s…that sound?

It’s a ripping, and it’s kind of loud, a groaning, and as my eyes flick downwards again, I can see the roots beginning to strain up from the ground, emerging from below the dirt. That’s. Not what was supposed to be happening. I try to shift my focus, moving it away from something that deep, just to the surface items. But it doesn’t work. It just moves faster, the branches and the trunk starting to look like they’re swaying. But I can fix it still. I know I can. I’ll just stop moving the bulk of the tree, back to the leaves, just the leaves. I’d have been much smarter to just stop altogether, but I’m fully confident that it’ll work how I want, that my glare will make it cooperate.

The trunk is starting to slide though, leaning like that silly tower in..wherever it is that the tower is… accompanied by a crack. The crack is loud, louder than the tearing sound the roots were making. I’m grinding my teeth now, trying to keep the tree from crashing to the ground. Giving up on the leaves for now, just focusing on pulling the thing back upright.

Right up until something else is crashing, right down on top of me. I don’t even have much in the way of time to make some sort of angry exclamation about the nerve of the thing for doing it, whatever it was, before I’m crumpling to the ground, loosing concentration on holding up the tree, which finishes its fall to the forest floor, while I lose something else. Consciousness.

Tara McKinley : When Things Collide..

Thu, 24 May 2007 15:58:41 GMT

ST : The storms, rain, and thunder were nothing new on Muir Island. Hearing the splatter of rain against the facility was something with which all of the occupants of said island should be intimately familiar with by this point in time.

The difference in this night was that there was something above the thunder, the sound of something breaking the sound barrier – although on the inside of the island it was more along the lines of just another roar to be hard over the storm. There was nothing untoward about the storm to any of Muir's sensors. In fact, the only person on the island with any form of warning? Katrin would sense an atmospheric disturbance just before...

CRASH

There goes a solid 14ft hole in the top level of the complex... and it wasn't stopping there. Titanium reinforced floors and walls? Fell before the massive momentum and speed built up by a drop from the atmosphere itself. A hole straight through the second floor, first floor, into the sublevels... impact centered at Main Power.

Bruuum....

Lights dimmed, then died. Terminals started going off line. Power was out..

Aux power? Lights began to flicker... came on for seconds....and then died again. What about the systems on UPS? Online, but falling offline 1 by 1... (AIM Incoming Emily)

At this rate there wouldn't be anything left powered by more then AAA Batteries on the island in a minute.

Feel free to panic .... right about now.

Psylocke : It doesn't take me long at all to grab my communicator and send a message to SWORD with a request of assistance on the island. I know it may be a while before anyone arrives though. First things needed though, using the communicator provided for the students and staff here.

"--Role call? Is anyone hurt?--"

This is assuming that network is still online. I'm preparing myself to form a team link in short order though, just in case it's needed.

Morph : Cue the girlish shriek of terror.

"AAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

It's a picture-perfectly-toned mimic of the standard shriek you'd hear in any low budget horror movie, as a moment later I'm darting out of an office decked out in a cheerleaders outfit.

With a bloodstained high school letter jacket and blonde pigtails, holding a baseball bat in one hand and a large flashlight in the other to illuminate the corridors as I start to make my way to the source of the deafening crash and the power outage. I'm going to investigate partly through a responsibility to make sure everything's okay with the students, and partly because I have that 'car crash' curiousity.

"It's Jason Myers on Elm Street! Oh noez! I knew I shouldn't have gone all the way with Chad on Halloween prom night!"

Moira : The perimeter breach alarm would go off for half a second as the area outside of the facility was disturbed.

And then the comm tower was demolished. Severing left wing from right through the floor of the main corridor in the second floor, and surrounding area of the veranda. Classrooms and offices on the ground floor. Before slamming through research and development and into the first sublevel.

Strange as it was to say it, the power should maintain even through that. Muir Island was built like a fort, or a prison. The communication was down to outside of the island. But their comms did backup to walkie-talkie.

And Moira MacTaggert's labs were dark within seconds, shut down. "We've been breached. Systems are systematically shutting down from the basement levels. This is not a system failure, it is being shut down."

"I need tae know who's hurt. We've been punched clear through."

Which frankly, shouldn't have been possible. Though things on Muir were rarely if ever bound by what should be considered possible.

Ka-zar : *I've staid on this island perhaps longer than I should have. After my system saw fit to rid itself of those disgusting spores. Just one more night in another of these cramped quarters. I'd just about made up my mind to abandon them for the outdoors once more. Storm be damned. So as thunder peeled repeatedly, hammering this compound and then the power went out, I thought it nothing unusual at first. Until the entire place was shuddering with a massive impact.

The lights were down, and then the backups began going out. I gained my feet and tugged on the ragged boots I kept close by. I have no communication device, but I am making my way into the halls. Time to see just who saw fit to disturb my restless sleep. Hand cupped to my mouth as I move down the hall in near total darkness.*

"'Ello the halls! Anyone about?"

*Yes, stupid as it sounded, it was a fair way to see what was up. Was that a woman's scream in the distance? Heading that way.*

Tommy : Click.

"Helloooooooo.... this is Tommy." As if anyone else is actually still in the medical department. "... I don't know if anyone can hear me, but...."

"SOMETHING BIG JUST TOOK OUT MY BED. IF I HADN'T BEEN MILKING MY INJURIES FOR THE LAST WEEK I'D BE DEAD!"

"YoujackoffstopplayingwithMoira'scoffee! "

"I'm hurt."

"Really hurt."

"Hurting. Ow. Pain."

"Where's Tara?"

Tara : Well. I had been fixing sandwiches. Which doesn’t take too long when you’ve already got everything sliced up from the day before, just to make things simpler. So much easier to just poke in the fridge and grab, instead of needing to take time to prepare. The sound of the alarm though? Makes me pause on the stairs, and then …crash.

The reverberation of the destruction rocks me back onto my ass on the steps behind me. At least it wasn’t forward and on my face. Scooting down the rest of the way, I’m fumbling through the dark, dropping the plate off to the side of the stairwell, once I’m down at the bottom.

Under attack? Lovely! And it’s not even my birthday yet. I know the path to med nearly like the back of my hand with all the trips I’ve made there over the years, and lately, but I’ve never had to do it in the dark. So I stay on foot, for the time being. I don’t particularly want to crash full speed flying into the walls. I make it eventually.

“I’ll show you hurting.. you’ve been making me come down here when you didn’t need to be here? Yeah, and. Here.”

ST : Muir Island was a unique place, no doubt much to Moira MacTaggert's chagrin. Not because of the labs, the genetics research, the mutants, the metas, or any of the things she'd likely be proud of. No, those could all be found all the world over. One of the interesting things about Muir was that it also had fairly unique mystical energy fields warped around the island.

Fields that were being tapped even now, just as the generators and computer systems were. Within moments? A transluscent sphere was erected over the island, cutting Muir off from the world like a curtain had been dropped. Any incoming signals, or outgoing ones, were cut like blades of grass by a mower. Perhaps the scariest thing? Those with abilities tied to extradimensional manners would find themselves 'cut off', for the most part. That self same barrier seemed to overlap through other dimensions as well – limiting teleporters to within the field, astral projection, and other powers, were all the same story.

They were cut off.

Unfortunately, SWORD would never get Betsy's transmision. Almost as if it was sucked into the ether.

However, comms were working internally at least. With the routing equipment for communications offline, their communicators would function as walkie talky over short distances, but without the comm equipment to take the burden, battery life was going to be quite a bitch.

There was something visible happening throughout most of the island though. Namely in as much as, the security cameras. Mounted security deployments. And well, if anyone was in the danger room, they'd see the same thing there. As plastics, metals, and other materials that made up the components changed to... something very techno-organic looking. Anyone remember the Phalanx? It looks kind of like that.

Morph and anyone else trying to approach the generators?

Muir's new T.O. and repowered Security System was just turned on you.

Psylocke : I'm rifling through my room for bits of my uniform and armor to slip on before I slide out into the hallway. I'm not hearing any calls of being hurt, other than Thomas which is reasonable. The scream concerns me slightly and I'm not quite sure who it came from.

Though while I'm doing this I'm carefully trying to establish the telepathic linking with those I can link with.

~Try not to use those comm units too much. Where is everyone? Who screamed?~

Why do I suddenly feel very disconnected from the rest of the world? It's a rather unpleasant feeling.

Morph : I take a second to open my mouth wide, and reach in with one hand to yank out my staff communicator from where I've kept it tucked inside... Once everyone started to chit chat, it was rumbling rather pleasantly from somewhere near where a person's sternum usually is.

"This is Morph, reporting in that everything is A-OK Roger Dodger Ten Four Hup hup here!" I bark out into the comm, as I swap to a WWI outfit, rifle and bayonet pointed ahead of me and a flashlight taped to the top of my helmet.

"Except for the giant hole, of course! That's a Fubar. Maybe we can fill it up with water and have ourselves a swimsuit party once this is all said and done? I look smashing in a lime two-piece, you know..."

My prattling on over the commline, probably taking up valuable airspace, is cut off a second later as my eyeballs extend like binoculars and I start to peer over the wrecked corridor near the crash site curiously. Seeing it change. This is really rather...

And then with a zap! of Moira's security system turning on and firing at me? I don't know what the heck I said to piss off the boss lady so badly, but I've turned into a chicken and am promptly running around trying to not get deep fried.

"MOIRA! MOIRA! TURN OFF THE GUNS! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK, NO SWIMSUIT!"

Tommy : "You know, when I was watching the security monitors (Moira says I have to be productive while I'm recuperating), I saw that guy Derrick here talking to Cassie, trying to get in her pants. Every time that damn kid comes through we get attacked. I'm filing a complaint with the Union."

The lights are off, that's not good, notice that I'm not taking off at super-speed right away? Yep, I learn from mistakes. I'll wait till the emergency lights are on, and instead just follow the sound of Tara's voice. It's soothing.

It's also tinged with a little pissiness. "Oops. Sorry about that. I couldn't help milk the hurt part, y' know... watching you bring me stuff, and all the sneaking sex in Moira's medical center? It's hard to turn down."

Nothing stops someone, Psylocke, from connecting to my mind. The problem comes when that connection is established, and my brain sounds off in their (anyone linked) minds at such an unbelievable speed that it's painful. Really, really, painful to everyone.

Peering down the hole that was formerly my bed, while speaking out to Tara so that she can follow the sound of my voice over to me. "Careful, I wasn't kidding. Right through my bed. Whatever it was, it's in the basement."

"You know, as much as I'm hoping, there's very little chance that this is Airplane Refuse? Cause the chances of that happening are relatively small."

Ka-Zar : *I was heading toward that scream I heard, not having any idea that it was from the one named Morph. Impersonating a girl no less. I'm just homing in on that scream that I heard.*

"Hay ooh lass!" *Up head I can see the panning light from a flash light back and forth right before this installation's internal defenses open fire. I freeze behind whatever cover I can find. A bit of torn wall plating not too far from where whatever went through the island?

And now that lovely under wear model's voice in my head. Head whipping about at first. Blasted telepaths.*

~Alright down here, though someone is drawing fire from the good doctor's security.~

Tara : There’s a sigh, and I’m rolling my eyes, not that it’s likely very visible at the moment. But. Still. Right through the ceiling, floor hmm? That’s going to mean rubble, so I’m moving slowly. And hole in the floor? I’d rather not fall down that, so I’m just waiting to catch any downward falling type motions.

“Why? It’s more entertaining than homework, and this way we know to expect shit to hit fans when he shows up.”

He’s right though, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever actually spoken to the Derrick guy but thinking about it? Does seem things like to crop up immediately following. They should really invite him more often.

“That all could have been done in your room too, handsome. You’re going to have an asston and a half of making up to me after this.”

Not like anything I’ll put him through in the efforts of ‘ammends making’ he won’t enjoy. I still like threatening. Think I’m getting closer, closer. Eventually my eyes will adjust somewhat to the dark, right? Just not near there yet. There’s a groping hand when I’m pretty sure I’m close enough to actually get a hold of his arm. I’d kind of prefer it if he didn’t fall down the hole either.

“We probably would have heard about it before it happened if there was a plane crashing.”

Moira : Moira MacTaggert's lab was one of the most secure places on the island. That was both a blessing and a curse, in this instance.

She knew the moment it began to spread.

"It's Techno-Organic an' spreading through my systems." Moira was scrambling backwards now to keep herself from being shot, flattening herself against the inside wall of her own labs as the energy blast lashes out, bracing there.

Benefit of building the thing. She knew where it wouldn't hit. And she knew how to get to Research and Development through her own labs.

And to the big damn crater. Seemed like the easiest way through levels at the moment. She didn't have time to chastise Morph over the comms. There were more pressing issues.

"Dinnae let it come in contact with you. We've had dealings with the Phalanx in the past." Which meant? She was getting to R&D. They'd developed nanites. . .

ST : When Morph backed away from the generators? The system would cease firing upon people. As long as they didn't try and get near the 'crash site'? They weren't going to get zapped by the security system.

While Muir's systems continued to be co-opted. That's when the security cameras aperature changed, and upon the floors? Glowing white arrows were being projected.

Follow the arrows! They would lead to the first sublevel. Mean whille, any area not lightened by the arrows? Was having pitch darkness generated over them, and behind them. People who didn't feel inclined to follow said arrows? Would have hard light walls projected to give them 'incentive' and 'push' them to it.

Yup, Hard Light Generation capabilities? Definitely co-opted. Security? Co-opted. Life was good... if you were the one who co-opted them.

Tommy : "No I meant airplane refu---..." slowly trailing off as he has no desire to explain to Tara the 'waste dumping' of Airplanes.

Using my memory of the infirmary, I 'slowly' move to the emergency panel (which thankfully won't be moved around any time soon). To grab a flash light for safety. By the time I've turned it on, I can see Tara, and that makes me pause itself.

Still I push forward. "My room isn't half as... wrong... as defiling Moira's personal space."

"Easiest way down..." Waggling my brows as I step up and put my arms around Tara. "...would seem to be up to you, Red. Shall we go blow something up?"

Ka-zar : *The firing would stop, and there was a screaming, gibberish rushing into my mind for a split second. Like a bloody migraine in the blink of an eye and it has my clutching my head and growling almost inhumanly to keep control of myself.

One or two staggering steps and I was blinking away the after affects of that pain and righting myself. It was then, as my eyes cleared, that the white-light arrows appeared on the floor, in lines directing throughout compound.

Morph was not too far away and Moira couldn't be far off as her labs were near by. I'm moving toward Morph and praying, to who ever controls such things, that he maintains a deceint form for the time being.*

"Hold up there. This has happened before?" *Yes, someone bring the normal human who doesn't dwell in labs all day up to speed with this Phalanx maddness.*

Morph : "Oh phew, scary lasers are gone..." I murmur, changed into a fat lady in a mumu as I dab at my sweaty forehead with a polka dot hanky. Still eyeing the security systems that were so hostile curiously as I carefully back up, sliding into my super-hero suit instead...

"Hey, the lasers stopped shooting at me! Score one for the good guys, right?" I say into the comm lines, even as I'm looking all over the place curiously... And at the glowing white arrows. I pause long enough to scratch my head in confusion, not sure if I should be going along with this creepy traffic flow...

Until, well, some funky force field starts bumping me, promptly changing my mind. Grumbling, I have to acquiesce and follow the yellow brick road.

~That would be me who was screaming and getting shot at, Jungle Man. Hey, Miss Braddock, I got tagged by a laser beam. Care to kiss my boo boo better?~ It's a sign of my talent for mimicry that I include a 'kissy kissy' noise into that mental broadcast back towards Psylocke.

Psylocke : What's this now? Lights? I'm not even sure what landed here or if it's organic at all. I'm prodding gently to see if there's another mind to connect to but at the same time cautiously looking to the lights and moving slowly to follow them. There's no other choice, darkness or danger by getting too close to something? That would concern me.

~I'll kiss it better if we get out of this allright, Morph. Where are you? Do you see the lights as well?~

Katrin : Katrin had been outside, enjoying the storm; she'd only had a moment to react, not even getting more than a "What the--" out after she felt the strange 'disturbance'. It was enough, at least, to keep from being hit by inevitable debris by that really big thing that just slammed into the complex and WHAT WAS GOING ON...!?

She listened to what was being said, though, as she bolted indoors. Pulling herself 'together', and trying to head toward where some of the other students were and/or were going. The good thing to the place being perforated was it was much easier to work her own sort of magic if need be. Easier to work with what was there than to create it on her own...

Of course, the place started rather forcefully directing her to where it wanted her to go. Oh, lovely...didn't make her feel any better about this whole situation.

But oh, what a rush...

"You weren't joking when you said Muir had faced a few minor issues in the past..." she muttered, hearing all the chatter going on over the comm lines.

Tara : “What?”

Putting up a hand to shield my eyes from the sudden appearance of light, the question comes when he pauses from getting the flashlight and returning back to the gaping hole in the floor.

“Okay, fine. You have a point. It’s not going to save you, though. I’m angry and vindictive like that.”

Only, not really angry about it, it’d be blatantly obvious if I was. I’m not even that annoyed, since I’m facing exploration. And explosions. Which we all know I enjoy far, far too much. So the threat of me being angry isn’t exactly followed up with a suitable expression. Much too busy grinning up at Tommy when he makes it the rest of the way over, and puts arms around me.

“Thought you’d never a- ohjesus..”

Cringing as I find myself added into the mental link, and bombarded with the rapid fire thoughts that I know belong to Tommy. I was in the process of putting my arms around Tommy in return, one gets redirected to pressing the heel of that hand to my forehead, though.

“Mrm…but. Yes. Blowing up. Going down.”

Who needs elevators, or stairs, when you can fly, right?

Moira : Hard Light. The arrows were leading to the level below, right to the object that had imbedded itself into the island. And a level above they could probably hear Moira's teeth grinding.

"We're being directed tae the Danger Room. It's safe tae assume that the technology there has been tapped intae as well." She releases the button to let the others speak freely, but not before it catches the very start of a very creative string of muttered curses.

She was in her lab, but cut off from the adjoining lab. The glowing arrow at her feet was mocking her. And she bloody well was not planning on playing along.

It was a frustrating thing when the weapon you wanted was in the room next door with an invisible shield between you and it.

Psylocke : "Bloody..."
A slight whimper as I work to push Thomas out of the link, stopping in movement completely to concentrate on this. I got a little preoccupied with establishing communication and neglected to remember that Thomas' brain is a bad place to be in.

That and everything appears a bit white before my eyes at the moment, waiting until that calms would be good.

~My appologies, ladies and gentlemen.~

ST : Those who played along and followed the glowy lights? Wouldn't be getting attacked.

Those who didn't follow the pretty lights? (Such as Moira, Tara, Speed) were going to find the hard light 'walls' weren't forgiving masters. Especially when the same tech used by the danger room began to manifest a Techno Organic tentacle looking monster, both in Moira's lab and in the Infirmary.

If they weren't going to be pushed by forcefields, perhaps by threats of physical voilence that very much would hurt if they hit them.

While in the danger room itself?

Well. Those who made it into the room would be hard pressed to figure out the extent of Techno-Organic assimilation. Because the tech was in full work, making the room look like outside of the island.

Except for the 7ft Techno Organic teddy bear looking creature that was dancing on a 'hill' in the danger room....... A truly menacing dance too, it was like a giant teletubby almost.

Tommy : "I... was just... you'll think it's silly," answering her when she asks about the pause in my steps earlier. "It's just still very surprising how hot my girlfriend is."

Once we go over the edge, and Tara is lowering us down the hole this thing created when it entered, I start to shift my eyes away from her. I've been in bed for almost a month, my legs are tight still, and this could be a good time to pull a hamstring if I'm not careful.

"That was the star of one my internet downloads back there in the Infirmary." Giving her pause to think, but not enough to actually respond, I follow right through with my thoughts. "It's a shame Karma isn't around. She'd be fucked."

"No."

"Literally."

"It'd be sort of hot, in that way you can't really admit to enjoying in public." Blink, blink, looking at Tara then. "Or...admit... to your girlfriend.... Don't drop me."

Morph : Ever see what happens when you touch one of those static electricity balls? You know, the ones that make your hair all stand on end? Except, well, pretend that it's not your hair, and that your head is just a big ball of white putty.

It's kinda like that, with my whole skull just expanding and spiking in every which way for a few seconds, before I have to pause to clamp my hands over my rapidly tearing-up eyes. Oh, trust me, I wish I could get a simple nosebleed right about now.

Turning my hands into giant cotton balls that I'm busy stuffing into giant ears with futility, as I'm flying down the hallways following the arrows. Thankfully, just as I'm contemplating whether whatever is waiting down in the basement is a-ok with me as long as it has Advil, Psylocke shoves the speedster's thoughts out of our skulls.

~Ohhhhh, phew. Though I have this leftover urge to eat about ten pounds of sugar, now...~

But I arrive in the Danger Room, thankfully, dressed in the trappings of a turn-of-the-century jungle explorer, with a five foot tall backpack loaded with frying pans and hunting rifles and a Super Nintendo and rocket launcher and a family of sloths... All while peering at the strange, techno-organic teddy bear through a telescope on a tripod.

"My word. It's the Lost Teddy of Chungamunga!"

Katrin : Katrin stumbled a bit into a wall when she was suddenly hit with a migraine from that mental link, her automatic reaction being to curse quite colorfully in Icelandic; others might not know the language but the tone and inflection certainly couldn't be mistaken. She hadn't really been protesting, at least not in action, being led down a path; she was even less inclined now, one hand held to her head.

She made it into the Danger Room with whoever else was there, turning about to see what was around them...and blinking at the giant teddy bear. What was that one song with the video in which the singer was being chased by a giant teddy bear? Oh! 'Human Behaviour'...she should know that, Bjork was from the same damned country...

"Uhm...Mr. Sydney..." she said, edging toward Morph while eyeing the teddy bear. And once again gathering herself as much as she could, around the stabbing pain in her head. Self-preservation could override migraine, at least, but it wasn't exactly fun.

The bear was just dancing, not attacking yet, but...

Psylocke : Once the majority of the pain passes I continue along the lighted path to the danger room.

Where everyone else has seemed to gather and we're greeted by the rather disturbing image of the dancing bear in the 'outside' of the facility grounds.

"Who was messing with my programs again? I don't remember making a dancing teddy bear though, this has to come from someone else's perverse mind."

Ka-zar : *The pain was gone now and I could move more easily. Or, the pain was more normal. A steady, horrid throb behind my eyes. Someone would take a beating for that. I wasn't sure how, but it would happen. Mutants! Children! Oh, best keep that to myself with the girl still poking around inside my brain box.

Following the lighted arrows like any good, left in the dark young man. Coming up behind the rest, as Tara and her young friend drift down, as well as the dark haired bit of Norse girl, Katin. Yes. All of us here to play with the great teddy?*

"Paddington has been a bad little bear."

*Yes, I manage to sound upper crust while looking the half naked wild man. Given a shower and a suit...I'd still sound the same, only less comfortable.*

"Well, have at it. Blast away and whatnot." *A vague guesture toward the techno mess. They were the enhanced, mutant, special types after all. Raging T-Rex, sure. This? Maddness that I don't normally deal with.*

Morph : A white brow arches when I see Katrin and Psylocke join me in the Danger Room, before my lipless mouth sets into a serious line.

"Behind me, ladies!" I announce in a booming, manly voice that comes with its own thunderous echo as I step in front of both of them to shield them from the obviously evil(?) teddy bear. A second later, I've transformed into a seven foot tall mountain of muscle that's as wide as a barn, decked out in a blue and yellow version of a Superman suit. I've even got the spitcurl and everything.

And just for the benefit of the girls behind me, as my cape blows out of the way on a 'breeze', my rear end becomes twice as big and the glutes far more muscular like someone just shot a burst of air into a balloon.

"Oh, sorry, and Jungle Guy!" I amend after a second.

One of my glutes 'winks' at Ka-Zar.

Tara : I’m right here next to him, I can pass along anything important like.

Over the link, while I continue to rub my forehead with my hand. It’s stopped though, at least. I’m perfectly fine with not hearing Tommy’s thoughts. Verbal communication is good enough for me. And doesn’t make my head reel.

“Aw. Well. Slight reduction of your sentence for that, Tommy. Shouldn’t really be a surprise at this point though, hm? You’ve seen enough of me.”

Ugh. Guys and the things they download off the internet. There’s another roll of blue eyes as we start to descend, slipping my other arm around him while I peer down the chasm of sorts.

“If I dropped you that’d put me right back to having to sit in that horrible infirmary with you. Probably as punishment for purposely inflicting damage on you, or some such. I hate that place… and I take back what I just said about going easy on you.”

I’m perfectly pleased to get away from the giant tentacle monster though. Especially after Tommy’s ‘sharing’. Which. Has a lit path for us now, thanks to some odd white arrows cropping up. I’d be all for not following the directions, but as this is where we were going in the first place.

“Wait. Is this the.. “

Where we’re coming out of the ceiling into? Looks an awful lot like the interior of the what I’m guessing is the Danger Room. And there’s people already gathering here.

“Jesus Christ that’s creepy. I say we blow that to smithereens first.”

That teddy bear? Makes me want to shudder.

ST : Tara and Speed would find that the hole, once Tara's gravity powers ignited, would alter. The arrows changing through the air, and hard light ramps guiding their path through the torn hole to shuttle them to the same place as everyone else. Nothing was visible beneath them but black hard light ramps, keeping them from seeing what had become of the generator rooms.

And the tentacle monster would follow them, to herd them into the room. It would only disappear from their trail once they entered the DR.

Where the dancing bear was suddenly being over-shadowed.

Cute cuddley techno organic bear of it's whole 7 feet height was suddenly dwarved by one easily 45 feet high, with fangs and sharp nasty looking claws. A clear nightmarization of a teddy bear.

Cue the DR doors slaming, and the environment 'sealing' once everyone was inside. Also cue the smaller bear running in terror and attempting to interpose itself between the Muirites... and the Bear of Doom.

Katrin : Well, there was a saying in different languages and cultures that went along the line of 'the bigger they are the harder they fall'...perhaps that would work here also. Katrin didn't waste a moment before she acted against the huge teddy bear. It was possible it was just made to look like the enemy bear, while the cute dancing one was the real problem, but...still. Big bear with fangs and claws was not something to ignore.

So she jumped out there ahead of the group, flinging her hands out on front of her as she attacked. The best defense was a good offense, as another saying went! (Her father liked that one, the few times she'd been able to spend more than a little time with him.)

Katrin had been keeping herself ready like a coiled spring; she let go for that bit of time, looking to hit the bear with a sudden onslaught of heavy wind and rain; if it was wet it would, in theory, be a touch more sluggish or at least some water might get into any electrical part...and the wind might make it fall (back, that is, away from them). Really, the wind was the greater focus.

It was worth a shot, right? That was what Thor would do. Peaceful normally, but he'd jump out there and hit things if he had to, to save people!

Morph : "Oh, uh... I really thought that that first teddy was the largest of our worries..." I mutter quietly, as my muscles slowly deflate like air leaked out of balloons when the second, larger, nastier MechaBear From Hell makes its appearance. I wasn't sure what I was expecting with this... With any of this, honestly... But having to duel skyscraper teddies to save other strange bears was not a part of it.

And then... "Katrin!" I hiss out in surprise, as our little Viking-in-Training decides to skip the confusion stage and charge straight in to fight the big beast. "Leave this kind of stuff to the staff!

"Or at least let us go first so we don't look like cowards!" I add in a mutter, before I snap into action myself...

I transform into a rocket. A white and yellow rocket, with a big smiling Morph face on its underbelly, that immediately launches into the air with a thick plume of smoke shooting out behind me. It's not 'real' smoke, and it's not real propulsion that guides me... Nah, I can fly on my own already. The rocket thing is just for show, as I'm flying straight for the chin of the giant robot bear that's menacing folks.

And I don't slow down at all, the closer I get... No, actually, I move as fast as I can towards it. And once I'm right on it, with just meters to go?

That's when I turn into the biggest punching glove I can.

Psylocke : I sever the team link, it's not needed at the moment, not while in such close quarters and not while I may need my powers for something more important like defending myself, that and trying to find out if there's any way to get to the 'mind' of all the problems occuring at the moment. Something is causing all of this to happen and something has taken control of the facility.

The question is if it has any organic components at all, or anything resembling a brain that I can read.

That and I'm stepping back just a little bit to get myself out of immediate harm's way.

Ka-zar : *Did his ...did that just? The boy...I need bleach to wash my mind with right now. I do. That was unfit for public consumption. Body parts should not wink.

A gargantuan bear, complete with massive teeth rampaging about the room? The little weather goddess pelting away with the fury of the storm? All well and good as long as she doesn't get stepped on. I linger, eyeing the besty. If it looks about to step on brave little Katrin I'll bodily haul her out of the way in dramatic fashion.

Morph has launched himself away as a rocket. He's a madman, but not lacking in pluck.*

"Now then, this is more to my speed."

*I"m keeping an eye on things around me. Featureless and bland are my enemy. I need something to work with. A way to get my beloved high vantage point. I need to show them what it takes to be a survivor in the home of the most dangerous predators on this green Earth.*

Tommy : "Don't reduce my sentence, Tara, I did the crime, so I should do the time." As we float along, I'm trying to flirt away any tension that I feel over being out of shape.

Out of shape is a relative term for me, mind you, but I'm out of the shape I want to be in for action. It's probably a good thing that my brain, and my legs, are not the only things that work at super-speed. I have other tools to rely on when I'm denied, in my own mind, my basic one.

When Pietro spoke of slowing down, I was listening, I might not have been outwardly paying attention at the time, but I was absorbing information. For me everything passes by at the tune of several hundred heartbeats a second. So I have to concentrate on slowing things down, pacing them out. Even when that feels boring.

Slowing things down is how I'm handling this. I can't run around and blow things up. So I have to use my other tools. I have to think this through. The Island is under attack. The computer systems are being attacked, 'co-opted', Moira and all of us are being herded through the Island to... the Danger Room. Where we're being shown... Bears?

Am I the only one who saw that shit on the generators?

"Did you ever watch Star Trek: The Motion Picture? This big Alien Probe came to Earth, it was trying to contact the creator. When the Humans didn't respond right away, the probe used a construct, to try to communicate with the Enterprise."

"Sure. She was a bald totally hot chick with a vow of celibacy, but she was still a sort of ambassador to talk." Now I'm getting in the groove of this. "We need a Spock. Someone to mind-meld with the bear!"

"Or...Moira... can you type Binary?"

Pause. Head tilting at Psylocke. "I said mind meld, not rape. Next time you touch me... I'll replay Karma's jaw-shot for you."

Psylocke : "I don't consider creating a link to better communication a form of mental rape, it was painful for everyone else but I did not intend it to be so. I'll exclude you from further attempts in the future, Thomas."

I don't need to tell him that even attempting to hit me would land him in big trouble and back in a bed for a few days. I don't appreciate the intolerance I recieve for being a telepath but I react with violence in kind. As if I would desire to go beyond his surface thoughts to find more chaos. I don't think I've even wanted to do that with anyone on the island. It's as intimate as sharing one's body I think.

"Are you done threatening me now?"
My violet eyes glance to Thomas.

Tara : “Oh you will. And you’ll keep doing it until I say you can stop. Which could be a really long time.”

Tommy gets a bit of a sideways glance, not that there’s much to the side to look, close as we are together, when he starts talking Star Trek. About the extent of my knowledge, as far as references to the show goes? Is that he called Feron ‘Spock’ when I think he first met him, so I remember the name. Other than that? Not a thing. I’m not a big television watcher, and when I am? It’s not usually on the bent of things that have ‘episodes’ and much in the way of plot. Well. Unless it’s a movie.

“Mind meld… what, so I don’t get to smash the daylights out of it?”

Yeah, I sound vaguely disappointed already. I didn’t get to crush anyone last time either. Well. Outside of those on my own side when I was in fight or flight (aka fight!) mode. Which I really don’t count in the least.

Settling the pair of us down on the ground, I’ll let go of Tommy. And settle for watching the giant teddy bear, and the other people who’d beat me to attacking it. Balling up hands into fists, I try to just hold the bear in place. Not squeeze into submission, just. Hold.

ST : Betsy would be unable to find anything that she could clearly be identified as a mind, by the definition of her telepathic abilities. There was something.. indecipherably odd on the island, but it was highly slippery and completely and totally inhuman. Mental contact might be possible, but Betsy should be aware of the dangers of connecting to inhuman intelligences.

While Katrin and Morph both assault the Teddy Bear of Doom. Between the winds, rain, and Morph's own attack, they both managed to stagger the large Nightmare Bear, enough that it's swipe of a large hand at the rebounding Morph would miss.

Stagger, but not topple.

Then Tara's gravity powers are added to the mix, slowing the bear down considerably, but not stopping it. It was slowly, step by slow step, moving towards the group. As if intent on stomping on them when it got there.

Oh, the little bear? It was now running and hiding behind the Muirites. Cowering.

Katrin : That was when Katrin, taking advantage of soaking the bear, dropped the temperature immediately around it (not extending to the Muirites, just around the large scary bear itself) drastically. As in, well below freezing, as cold as she could make it. It meant letting up a bit on the wind and rain, but it was being slowed, presumably by someone like Tara. So she was looking to freeze it yet more.

Maybe if it fell, or was hit or some such, it would break from being frozen so abruptly like that. Temperature changes of that sort tended to make things brittle, prone to cracking and breaking...

"Can we hit it again?" she yelled out, still focusing totally on the large bear.

Psylocke : So, I'm guessing we should protect the little bear from the big angry bear? Another task at which I'm not too useful at unless I break out the sword but then I would lose track of this slippery mind I'm tracking. It's definately something but I'm not quite able to connect to it, not safely anyhow. I remember tales of comas from some of the psychics that have attempted to connect to alien life forms.

"I'm not sure what it is but it's certainly something living but also not something human. It's very difficult to track it down to anyone area and if I attempt to make a connection that could be dangerous, for me."

Morph : "Tough guy, huh!?" I protest, bouncing back from the blow I landed on the thing, flying through the air dressed out like Rocky with the swollen eye as I wave both of my boxing gloves at the thing tauntingly... Damn, I was really hoping I could at least do more than just give it a jab to shake off. I'll have to put a little extra study time in Fighting Giants 101.

I'm moved back out of range of the Doombear thanks to the knockback from the punch I landed on it... I take advantage of that to fly straight up, moving to position myself far above the Teddy's head and out of reach of this long, nasty claws of it.

"When in doubt... Go the Loony Toon route!"

Biggest. Heaviest. Hardest. Anvil I can turn into. Plummeting in a freefall at the thing's head.

Tommy : "Mark. My. Words. Do not touch my mind again." Frost hangs on my words with each syllable. I'm well aware of who she is, and that I'm not her equal in combat, but she has to sleep and it only takes me half a second.

My issues with telepathic invasion are starting to become debilitating, and I can recognize that. Over-coming it though? No, I can't. Not when it happens every single week it seems.

Tara has already let me go, when I respond to her thoughtfully, "Don't kill it. It's got control of Moira's force fields, remember when we were sneaking out to the pub? Moira used them for a lot of different things, so if this thing wanted to hurt us, I think a Teddy Bear might be it's last idea."

Zipp! across the Danger Room in the fasted way I can manage. Nothing has, as of yet, denied us access to the Danger Room's own internal controls. We're locked out, so I can't shut it down.

... I can't even change the hard coding of what we're seeing, I'll bet, but I wonder if .... I can add to the program. C-3PO. Human Cyborg Relations. Programmed in over six million forms of communication.

Ka-zar : *The little fella was cowering behind. And teh bear was staggering. Nearly rocked off it's feet. Time to add to that unbalancing act. I pick my point. High on the shoulder, just a half step down the arm.

I'd ask for a ahnd up, be everyone seems busy. All the powerful mutants bashing away. Springing into action, I'm heading out. Boots hitting hard island-like rock, pushing off, grabbing a tree limb to swing up. I need height. I don't have the vines the way I would like. So it will come down to height.

And pure, unbridled, stupid courage. Or a blatent disrespect for gravity and other laws of physics. I get up there and when the bear rocks this way, leap just as it starts to sway. I want to land on that upper arm like Zabu would, on all fours, clinging tightly. As weight to drag it down.*

Tara : “I’ll be good, I promise.”

I hate big things. They don’t stay down nearly as easily as well. Regular sized things. I haven’t come across too many creatures, or humans, fellow mutants, that have a lot of luck escaping my fields. Hmm.

Eyes are flicking around the room, Morph’s made himself into an anvil, Ka-zar’s landed on one side.. so I shift my tug instead from the creature’s whole body, to just the side that the extra weight is on already. See if we can’t topple the beastie.

ST : For perhaps one of the few times in Muir DR history, Muirites actually attack as one. Katrin slowing the behmoth Doombear down, Tara averting gravity, Morph bringing an anvil (himself) down ontop of it's head, and Ka-zar showing basic use of physics at leverage points....all to accomplish one feat.

The Nightmare Bear slowly fades out..

THUD.

Tommy's attempt is.. in fact, genius. By loading a hyperlinguistics program into memory, the techno-organic entity monitoring things is finally able to actually communicate. This is good, and bad. Bad because it now has real access to the danger rooms scenario files and previously programmed scenarios.

Good because it now has a slowly expanding grasp of Earth languages.

Watch the 'cute' bear's projection vanish.. to be replaced by the Techno Organic form of... Warlock.

It wasn't speaking yet though. It was still making sense of the linguistics suit... but it wasn't posing a threat, yet?

Ka-zar : *The once solid arm that I had lept onto was gone in an instant. I fall through the air, managing to twist and land respectably. Crouched and low like a great cat, eyes flicking about like a cornered beast. Now the little bear is gone.

As the Warlock intenty materializes, I slowly raise to the full height of a man. The bit of an animalist look, the snarl, the glittering eyes, fading as I get up.

There is no agression that I can see in it's body language for now. With the others here abouts, there is plenty of ability to bash things.*

"What now, have we here? Anyone know this chap?"

Tommy : "Okay. So I was going for Return of the Jedi, 3PO, with the sound effects and all the storytelling mode, but I ended up with Phantom Menace..."

"Nice work, folks." Pausing to look around, because while I had the 'stroke' of genius for the translation, I don't have much in the ways of ideas of actually communicating with something like this. "Just a note on my continuing Science Fiction narative: Robotic Creatures typically go nuts and kill the teenagers."

"So one of you 'adults' should handle the talkin!"

Tara : “Who the hell are you supposed to be?”

An eyebrow’s raised while I shift my stance, one hand resting on my hip. It’s not like I have to be in any sort of a ready stance to bring my powers around for usage. At least he’s not (it’s not?) a creepy cute teddybeast anymore.

“And what do you want?”

Morph : As soon as there's no need for me to be an anvil anymore, I turn into an odd mix of, well, me and a paper airplane. As in the lower half of me turns into a giant bundled of folded paper, while from the waist up I'm in my suit as I gracefully glide the rest of the way down towards the ground.

"Funny, I don't remember any of my teddies transforming turning into gangly looking oddjobs. Must be the new generation with their short attention spans."

Katrin : When satisfied that odd jungley guy and Morph weren't going to be hurt by it, Katrin concentrated on continuing to freeze the Nightmare Bear in place when they brought it down. Honestly, she didn't know all of what was going on, but she'd been most certainly set on seeing that the Nightmare Bear didn't hurt them, or maybe even the little bear if it proved to be good and not bad.

Really, she didn't know. But she did like being able to jump out there and hit...even though the threat seemed to be diminished greatly, now. So she relaxed a little, turning to smile at the others, especially Ka-Zar and Morph. "That was rather fun."

Tommy : "Did I mention Tara's like so-not-an-ambassador?"

Warlock : Ahem.

::Self is Warlock. Self-Friend SilverHair give language suit. Self can now talk.::

Gesturing at the 'silver haired' Tommy.

::Self hiding from Self-Creator. Self sorry, but self need energy to heal. Self must keep Homo-sapien on island, hidden from Self-Creator Magus. Self must test Possible-Self-Friends to see if they will help Self.::

::Self sorry for Self-Friend Silverhair, but self must be sure. Self does not want to die.::

With that? The projection of Warlock was vanishing, and the Danger Room doors were opening. By now Warlock had co-opted large parts of the island, and barricaded itself in. Hard light projections kept a lot of it off limits, but for the moment at least, they could catch their breath.

Until Warlock started to test them.

Tara : “Why should I be? That’s what other folks are good at.”

I’m the brawn, remember? I’d say brute squad but you can’t really make a squad out of one person. I’m too…blunt I suppose, to ever hope to pull off any degree of diplomacy at all. Not that I would hope to. If I’ve got a question, I ask it. Like I did a moment ago.

“Magus? Who? And what do you mean test?”

Since. I don’t know who else that’d be referring to but us. No one else here.

Ka-zar : *I had a smile for Katrin as well. I appriciated her help, and she was helpin as opposed to bashing the bear outright. A subtle difference. Just over the shoulder.* "Of course it was."

*Now back to the fact that there is this..thing before us? One that wants a very great deal of our attention. Now, managing to look the least civilized of this group, I will put myself forward now. The girl with the flaming hair, is, as Tommyboy noted, not very diplomatic.

I track the language, not bad English, better than I had encountered in many place I've been in the world. *

"Well then Self, next time, knock at the door first. But, you are welcome to stay." *Not that we had any choice in the matter. And as he faded away from sight, I heaved a dramatic sigh and shook my head.*

"Moira and her neighbors."

Tara McKinley : Teaching Feron

Mon, 30 Apr 2007 08:08:33 GMT

Tara : Sundays are so boring. For that matter, so are Saturdays, at least unless we’ve got one of those field trip days. Which I love, by the way. It’s something to plow through the rest of the week for. And generally keeps me on mostly good behavior, not that I’ve been acting out that much of late, so nothing prevents me from going on the trips. At least during the week, on school days? I’ve got something to take up a big portion of the day. Classes themselves which, even if I’m not there in spirit for many of them, it’s something. Homework to do afterwards, even if it is done as quickly as possible.

Usually means though, unless something else managed to crop up, that I spend the weekends getting muddy outside. It’s what I’ve been doing today. It’s practically room temperature outside, it wasn’t even completely horribly cloudy out. At least when the sun was up. Now it’s more towards…well. Dark. It hasn’t stopped me though.

Why? Well. Gravity is being a bastard. That’s why. It should always listen to me. Always do what I want.

Except if it always did, actually, I’d get bored with it really quickly. As frustrated and angry as I get, on occasion, it’s a challenge. And I love a challenge. It’s much better to conquer things by beating the crap out of them than to just have them go meekly along. Then it was hardly even worth the effort. I’m presently working my way, quite vocally, through aforementioned challenges. I have been for hours, and I’ve not been very quiet about it.

At least I take it outside when I’m doing something like this. Don’t want to blister the ears of the younger kids, not that they’d understand half of what I’m spewing out of my mouth. Between my accent, which gets thicker, and my voice getting higher pitched, and the fact that half of what I’m saying isn’t even in English, but the convoluted mix of Irish Gaelic and some English that Moira claims she’ll pretend to not understand…

I’m not even really moving presently, not after my somewhat frenzied footwork practices earlier. No. I’m standing hands on hips, a rather defiant posture, swearing at my football, which is most obstinately not doing what I want it to, from ten feet away.

Feron : It would have been impossible to ignore her. Feron had been in the middle of a Kalastere routine when he'd first heard the exclamations nearby. Stopping the staff exercise, he'd wandered closer, trying to find the source of the noise that had interrupted such a previously pristine silence. Of course, the woods were never truly silent, but he much rather preferred the sounds of the wind bristling the trees and the various animal life than...well, whatever or whoever it was. His language skills had advanced to the point where he understood most of the words that were echoing down the isle lane, but they were harsh and vulgar, and certainly not anything he had ever spoken aloud himself.

When he neared the complex, he spotted movement and a flash of red, and instinctively leapt upwards, landing quietly in a treebranch. Crouched in this position, he was much better able to see through the edge of the treeline and was somewhat surprised that it was Tara making so much noise. With a judicious application of his telekinesis and a bit of help from the wind, he crossed from tree to tree, finally perching in one that was closeby to the tempermental young woman.

She seemed to be playing with a black-and-white checkered ball, though if it was a game he could not discern the rules. She stared at it, spewed profane curses at it, and waved emphatically, but did nothing else. Occasionally he thought he saw the ball waver slightly, but the next moment it appeared as still as before. It was a somewhat bizarre display, and yet he continued to watch, hoping that sometime soon, her words or actions would prove a clue as to why she was out here alone, and what she was doing.

Since he'd left the monestary, Feron had been working diligently to find a place in the modern world; to understand its cultural norms, its nuances, its laws, its function. Context was key to this process; on so many levels society was subtle and mysterious, and often unlocking the secrets that most people took completely for granted lay not in what someone did, but how everyone else reacted to it.

After a while, however, his patience expired, and his curiosity won out.

"What are you doing," he called down to her, just loudly enough for her to hear.

He was standing on the outstretched limb of a tree, crouched low and stabilized by his right hand. The other hand clasped his one truely heartfelt possession, his staff, whose length extended backwards under his left arm. Today he was wearing a hunter green hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants, but had no shoes and only socks covering his feet.

Tara : I wasn’t entirely satisfied with just shouting, there was some degree of pacing back and forth, glaring daggers from my blue eyes at the ball that has the audacity to not listen to me. I’d say that I’d kick its ass, but one, it has no ass really, and second, that’s what I’d been doing most of the afternoon anyway. It’s whole purpose was for me to kick it, after all.

In fact right now it’s supposed to be flying at me so that I can do just that, kick it out of the air. I’ll be like my own tennis ball serving machine, just for football. I suppose I could bounce it off a wall instead but it is not the same thing. Only its not. Not at all moving, let alone flying through the air quickly.

An extra hard squint at it produces a bit of a roll, the ball moving slowly towards me finally. Then I hear someone else talking, and it stops short, while I jerk around towards the sound.

“Wha..… oh. Hi Feron.”

There’s a bit of a grinding of my teeth after the surprised well, what was the start of a surprised question before I saw who it was and decided it’d probably be in my best interest to not use anymore of my more scathing language just now. If he’s been there long, well. He’s heard all my material anyway.

“I’m practicing. Or trying to at least. Where…are your shoes?”

Wandering around inside I usually still wear my shoes, I could see it more inside. Maybe barefoot out here if you like the naturey…things. But socks? He’s going to ruin them.

Feron : "Good evening t'you, Tara," he replied with a brief-but-friendly smile. There was no need to remain hidden, and so he stood up in a fluid motion, curling his feet somewhat around the branch and adjusting the heft of the staff slightly in order to maintain his balance.

"My apologies for interrupting your practice session," Feron said, and his eyebrow quirked just slightly. "I was nearby in the wood when I heard a commotion and came over...t'make sure everything was all right," he explained.

Without warning, he stepped off the branch and dropped straight down for about six or seven meters; he stopped just a few inches shy of the ground and hovered there for a moment to negate the impact, then touched down gently.

He looked down at his feet, then up at her. "I...do nae have shoes. At least nae the kind that you wear. The monks where I was raised often wore no coverings for their feet in the warmer months, but I was nae allowed to. I have a pair of leather moccasins but I am trying t'wear more modern clothing. I stitched a sole onto the bottom of these socks and they serve the same function without detracting visually." He seemed particularly proud of the adaptation; it was a compromise that he thought was fairly successful. "I find them t'be far more comfortable, though somewhat less durable, eh."

Now that he had answered Tara's question, he allowed himself to ask something further of her. "What are you practicing, if I may ask? Is it a game?"

Tara : “It’s fine. I wasn’t accomplishing much anyway.”

I settle for walking over to the ball, instead of trying to make it come to me, flicking it up smoothly from the ground with a scooping kick of my foot, a bounce off the other knee and into my hands. At least I know I can always make it do what I want manually. That I had no doubts about. It’s just with my powers that it gets iffy some days.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to be that loud. It’s why I practice out here. So I don’t ‘disturb’ anyone studying.”

I suppose he lives out here though, doesn’t he? So. Hopefully he wasn’t. I don’t know. Meditating or whatever it is he does exactly out here. Tucking my ball under one arm, I watch him while he drops out of the tree, one eyebrow quirked up at the quick stop. Not bad. I mean, I knew he could hover, he’d shown me that before.

“Nice landing.”

If I’m free falling, well. Normally that means I am actually falling. Maybe not normally. I think I’ve fallen out of flight twice since I’ve been here. Once was Graviton’s fault, and once well. I was having a very, very bad week.

“Came up with that on your own? Impressive. I would have just…I don’t know. Probably not come up with something like that. Did someone find the sweats for you or?”

He hasn’t exactly come with us on city trips, and I really, really don’t see him using the computer to order things via internet.

“Yup, football. It’s ..well. Supposed to be a team sport but I think I’m the only one that actually plays. Or no one’s been willing to risk my temper and play me.”

Not lately anyway.

“Two teams, two goals at either end, basically the point is to run the ball down the field and get it past the goaltender and into the goal. Only person who can touch the ball with their hands is the tender, everyone else has to use mostly feet. Or your head, back, chest whatever. Just not your hands.”

Feron : He wanted to say something encouraging to her, but as he had little idea what she was doing, nothing came to mind. He also might have said something about the loudness and the language, but it was not his place to judge.

"Moving objects with my mind was the first skill I ever learned; now it has become almost instinctive. I have been told that perhaps this affinity comes from my native heritage, but I have nae met any who could say with definition." He let the bottom tip of the staff come to rest against the dirt and leaned into it slightly.

"Mayhap we two - you and I - are opposites in our approach," he offered as a possibility, grinning. Feron always strove for subtlety and grace - to move swiftly and smoothly whether it be on the ground or amidst the tree branches. He tended to view everything he used, from his mystic talents to the staff in his hand, as an extension of his own body, as a part of nature. From what he had seen and heard of Tara, she strove for power and strength. There was a streak of defiance that seemed to simmer on the surface of her face; a glint of opposition in her eyes. He was not so the noble warrior as she.

"I see. It sounds lively. I would like sometime to learn how t'play."

The smile faded a little, and he tilted his head, as if in thought. "May I ask a question? The recent event held in the...eh, simulacra room; is that common of exercises performed here? I found it intriguing - despite the thorough historical inaccuracies - but I did nae understand the purpose."

Tara : “I figured out how to move myself first. And knock people down. Moving objects, especially like…fine movements. Well. Working on that. I’ve gotten a lot better at it. Possible? I guess. I wouldn’t know. No one else in my family has any sort of powers at all.”

I probably couldn’t have made that ball roll at all when I got here. Actually I know I couldn’t have.

“From what I’ve seen of yours? Yeah I’d agree. Sounds like we started from the opposite ends of the spectrum anyway. I started out with the…wide effects, now I’m trying to learn the small.”

Dropping the ball onto the ground again, I absently shuffle it back and forth between my feet, rolling it under my heels. It’s hard to be…still when I have one, even if there’s not a game of some sort going on. Now if I could just learn to manipulate my powers as well, so absently, it’d be perfect. I’ve only had the powers for three years though. I’ve been playing football for ten. There’s been exponentially more time devoted to the latter.

“Really? Well. I’m not claiming to be a good teacher. At all. But I’m good at showing off, and you seem smart enough to pick up things, yeah? Maybe not tonight, it’s kind of dark out but if you really want, I’d be happy to show you another day.”

If nothing else, it’d be someone to play with, and hey, if I’m good enough and he’s good enough to pick it up quickly? Well. Back to the competition thing again.

“Uh. I really couldn’t tell you. It’s the first like that I’ve been in. Xi’an might be able to tell you better, I think she’s the only one that was in there that’s been here longer than me. Well. Other than Dr. MacTaggert obviously.”

Purpose? There’s a shrug of my shoulders.

“A bit of fun I think, maybe a bit of teamwork practice. I don’t think it really had a bigger purpose other than that. I know I wouldn’t mind doing it again. It’s better than homework.”

Feron : "I do nae know my family - my true parents, anyhow. Mayhap they possess abilities similar t'my own." He didn't often think about it; the monks were all the family he had ever known, and more than enough for him. He often imagined what his father or mother might look like, or sound like, but never would a full and complete picture materialize in his mind. He hoped that they had a reason for...abandoning him on the monastery stoop, but what that reason was, no one had ever discovered. Wherever they were, their reasons were their own.

"A 'quick study', I have on occasion been called," he said as modestly as he could manage. He enjoyed learning new things and tried to expose himself to knowledge at every opportunity. "Another day." Now that he had heard about the game, Feron was rather looking forward to it.

"I assumed it was entertainment; I had nae considered it t'be tactical field training." The idea of this island being an army mustering camp for the mutare once again crossed his mind, but he shook his head, clearing it of such nonsense. "I do nae regret participating, but I found it all very confusing." Every day the advances of modern technology were less jarring than the day before, but the illusion room was a step beyond a simple automobile or jet-engine airplane.

"If y'seek practice in your abilities against a challenging foe, I may be able t'offer you an alternative t'this," he said, outstretching his free hand. The soccer ball leapt from her fingers and stopped in mid air near his palm; as he flattened his hand horizontally and raised his palm upwards, the ball began to rotate. "Would y'be interested in that?"

Tara : “What happened to them?”

Most people would probably have been, I don’t know. Squeamish about asking something like that. Tommy’d laughed at me once for how direct I’d been about asking Zora about a problem she was having (I miss Zora, though..), because it doesn’t occur to me too often that it’s better for other people’s feelings that I keep my mouth shut. I think of it more along the lines of…I’m genuinely interested? Otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered.

“Well good. I can at least show you the basics. Fancy footwork takes a lot of practicing, even if you are as naturally talented as I am. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen other balls in the gymnasium, I really doubt anyone would care if you took one to tinker around with whenever.”

The one I’m using is my own that I brought from home. Or. One of them anyway. The original I’d brought out had been irreparably damaged in…some way or another. I don’t remember which particular Muir disaster that had been in, anymore.

“It could have been worse, I suppose? It could have been a simulation in the middle of London. Or New York. Or Dublin. From talking to you before, I think that would have been a lot worse for you. But I suppose that’s one way to…I don’t know..what’s the word… acclimate? Without any sort of real threat.”

Because from what I understand you can’t really get hurt in the Danger Room, since you’re not..really doing the things you think that you are. It’s a big fancy computer though, and I have zero comprehension of how computers actually work. I can barely work a word processor properly.

“Really? Of course I would be. What sort of alternative are we talking here?”

Watching while he makes the ball move about. Without any angry expressions or swearing, even though I’ve never seen or heard either from him. If only I could do it that easily.

Feron : Feron's face changed a little then, softening. He almost looked sad for a second, but before the emotion fully formed, it was gone, replaced with a blank expression. He shrugged, shaking his head. "I cannot say. I was entrusted t'the monk's care when I was but a newborn infant." 'Entrusted' was somewhat of a euphamism; as far as he could tell, he was dumped on their doorstep in the middle of a thunderstorm. "It is certainly possible that they are out in the world, somewhere, waiting for me t'find them." Maybe it was a romanticized notion or naivete, but he tended to be a hopeful fellow. The alternative was despair and dejection.

He nodded at her suggestion to take one of the footballs from the supply locker in the gym. "I will be sure to ask."

As for the simulation of the city, he could see why she would get that impression, and perhaps she was right. "You speak the truth. I believe, however, that I am ready t'explore the urban hives." Giant, sprawling, concrete beehives, teeming with steel and concrete and life.

The ball abruptly stopped spinning, coming to a standstill, and he let it fall into his palm, tossing it back to her. "You have often spoken of engaging enemies with your control of gravitas. I can provide you with foes that are stronger and more durable than a man, but that you would have nae moral compunctions about destroying."

"Certainly the simulacra room is nae always available for your use?"

Tara : “Hmm. That’s kind of… crummy. Probably had a good reason though, right? And yeah, they could be. I’m sure people here could probably help you find them, if that’s the case.”

I’m sure my mom could reference at least a dozen fairy tales, or legends and fables, where some baby’s left to be raised by other folks for some great purpose. Not me. I just have part of my name from a story, as do all my siblings. Unless you count me being dumped off here when I was sixteen. Not quite the same as being left as a baby though, and never getting to know your parents. Doesn’t seem too far fetched to me that they’d have some sort of tracking, searching, or know someone that could.

“Yeah? We can haul you with us next time we go in. Maybe get you some other clothes. Not. That there’s anything wrong with sweats, I wear them a lot myself. Just usually when I’m working out. Definitely comfortable though.”

My eyes keep following the ball while he moves it around, but when he talks about making opponents for me… I blink, give him a blank look for a moment, before my expression breaks out into a wide grin.

“Oh God. You make me Beckham and Ronaldo? And I’ll… well. I probably won’t kiss you. Someone else may not appreciate that. Dinners though, that I can do. Or y’know, make sure nothing runs you over while you’re in the city. Would they be like…copies of the real people? Or can you even pick what they look like?”

Destroying my favorite players on the field? Oh that’d be … definitely something.

“Nah, definitely not. That’s the second time I’ve ever been in there and I’ve been here a couple years. I think they think I’m going to break it.”

Feron : Feron said nothing more on the matter of his parents; it was not something he thought of often, and spoke of even less. She was, in fact, the only person he had ever told. Which, of course, wasn't a very big deal, considering how few people he talked to about anything.

"I would like that very much, though I am grateful for the clothing the Healer has provided." when he'd come to this place, all he had was a satchel full of books, his staff, and the clothes on his back. Now he had a home.

"Beckham...Ronaldo...? I am nae familiar with those names." He squinted, confused. "What is this you mean? Why would others be unappreciative?" Her banter had obviously gone past him.

"I think you misunderstand. These combatants would not be human replicas, but creatures of lore. Observe."

Feron aimed his fingers vaguely at Tara and began to chant a string of syllables; within just a few seconds there was a quiet rumbling sound and a vibration beneath her feet. A heartbeat later the ground behind her burst forth in a swirling column of dirt; the twirling strands quickly gained a humanoid shape, and after a moment the figure was clearly defined. An eight-foot tall hulking mass of earth and rock stood before them; the golem was burly and bald, and in the center of its face sat one unblinking eye.

"A cyclops of Greek mythos. I suppose it does nae resemble this...Beckham character you say?" He smirked, even though he had no clue who or what a 'Beckham' was. "It bears considerable strength, however, but does not feel or think, acting only on my command."

The golem bowed deeply, waving its hand in a dramatic flourish, and Feron seemed all too entertained with himself.

"I summon my guardian elements for utility or defense, but they could easily be used t'spar with you."

Tara : “Maybe we can even get you some clothes like those folks you like to watch on TV. What was the show called…Cribs?”

See, now that thought amuses me. Not really so much a malicious sort of entertainment, since he seems to enjoy that channel, and it’s programs, far more than I do. And really, he is a good looking guy, he could probably pull it off. Again, something different than sweats. I kind of doubt that he really has any money for it, and I don’t exactly have much to spend on his behalf even if I wanted to buy stuff. Maybe I can talk Moira into it. She’s given us all ‘allowances’ before on trips. Or if I threaten to dress him up in my clothes… not that I think that’d be cooperated with for a second, but the look on her face would probably be lovely.

“Sorry, talking too fast again, aren’t I? Beckham and Ronaldo are football players. Professionals. They’re also both very, very good lookin’. And for the kissing part, Tommy’d be unhappy.”

And I like to keep him happy, because well, it gets me stuff other than the attraction I’ve got towards my fellow student anyway. But secondly, well, I think Tommy handles jealously exactly as well as I do. Not at all. And I wouldn’t want him going after Feron if Feron can make me people that are decent competition on the football field.

“….whooooa….”

I watch as the figure appears, tilting my head up and back as it grows taller, huge. Well. Pretty huge. It’s probably almost three feet taller than I am, and definitely bulkier. And scarier looking. When I manage to tear my eyes away from the golem, I’m grinning at Feron.

“Wow, Feron. That’s really, really neat. So how hard is it going to be to teach them to play football?”

Feron : "I..." he cringed. "...I do nae think that is necessary. I merely watch that program to better understand the lifestyles that a select few seem to enjoy at the expense of the peasants." That was how it worked, wasn't it? These celebrities made all their wealth off the masses who paid in an abundance to watch an athelete or actress perform. In turn, massive mansions, castles, and estates were built. It was sort of like feudal Europe, except that these nobles weren't even tasked with the defense and governance of the people. "Maybe."

"Ahh, I see." The confusion evaporated from Feron's face, and he nodded. "You are betrothed, then. No, that would not be appropriate."

Then again, when she asked about teaching the golem football, the confusion came roaring right back. "I...did nae mean for them t'play your game, Tara. I meant for them t'serve as combatants. You can rend them asunder with your gravitas power without fear of harming a living, breathing individual. I am willing t'spar with you via this proxy whenever y'like, so y'need not rely on your time within the simulacra room."

"I can create opponents of flame, like I did during that illusion, or of water, or of the wind. These different elements may respond in different ways t'your abilities, giving y'the opportunity t'expand your tactical knowledge."

Tara : “Peasants? Yeah, I suppose that’s a pretty good way of putting it. Well. At the least we could try to get you something, like you said, more… modern. And maybe have you try tennis shoes. You might like them.”

I think they’re comfortable enough, even if I usually only wear them when I’m out running and the like. I do have a few pairs of them for general sorts of use, however.

“Betro…wh…no. No, no. We’re just. Dating.”

He’s probably not going to know what is, is he? I guess, why would he? If he’s only ever been up with the monks, and then out in the woods here.

“It’s. What people do, generally before they get…bethrothed. To see if they like each other enough for that sort of a…uh…commitment I guess. Or sometimes you just do it for fun.”

Ohhhh. A look of realization on my face, when he explains what he’d meant them for, not as an opposing team, at least not in the sense of the game of football, but for combat. I certainly don’t look at all disappointed though. To me? Combat is just as good as the competition of a sport. If not better, because they tend to not respond well to you smashing opponents to pieces in football. At least not in organized play. It’s why I wasn’t welcome in the league at home anymore.

“Either way sounds great to me, really. It doesn’t work so well to try to fight myself.”