[Since Sunnydale Faith hasn't seen much of Buffy. Is it because Faith is actively avoiding her? Well, maybe. But it's better this way, right? Keeping Buffy at a distance. If they spend any amount of time together it seems to lead to them being at one another's throat. It will start off well enough, but ultimately devolves into some idiotic fight or airing of grievances past. And they'd left the Battle of Sunnydale as friends. Faith doesn't want to lose that.
It's lucky they've had a lot of work to do setting up the new Watchers, finding all the new Slayers, or else her active evasion might have been more noticeable. But it seems keeping her contact with Buffy to the spare phone conversation and Slayer/Watcher meeting is finally coming to an end.
Faith is back in Cleveland. And so is Buffy. Cleveland isn't the same as Sunnydale with only one bar worth going to, so isn't it just her luck that the one dive bar Faith decides to head to after a uneventful patrol, seems to be the same one Buffy is in too. She sees her at the bar, waiting for a drink presumably. It's not like she can just pretend Buffy's not there, right? And what's the worst that could happen saying hello? Oh fuck. Why'd she going thinking that? Now she's just doomed the whole entire thing!]
Hey, Buffy. [She slides up next to her at the bar.] What brings you here? Hot date?
[ Buffy's not an idiot. She knows that things are a bit... off, between her and Faith. They weren't exactly besties back in Sunnydale, not the first time around and not the last, but they had ended things with an understanding between them, a partnership. The last of the old school Slayers, the Chosen Two who have to lead the next generation. It's been exhausting work, but knowing that Faith has been out there helping to hold the line—
It's helped in ways that Buffy hadn't expected. Maybe it's because with Spike gone, Faith is all she has left of people she can trust with what really matters. So when she finds herself back in Cleveland after an arduous trip to the UK, she makes a split second decision and plops herself in the bar where she's bound to run into her sister Slayer. And she waits.
She's waited her way through a whole drink by the time Faith arrives, which is probably why she doesn't hesitate to give a truthful answer. ]
[Faith doesn't quite know how to handle that answer. For her? There are so many possible ways she might read that response. Reasons Buffy might be here to talk to her. Her cynical side is expecting the worst, but she plays it all off with a smile and laugh, signalling the bartender for her usual. Just a beer on tap, nothing fancy.] Me? So it is a hot date, then.
[She takes her beer when it's slid over to her, taking a large gulp to distract herself with and work out what to say next. Clearing her throat, she settles on asking lamely.] So, what's up? Another apocalypse brewing?
[ That first response is so Faith that is makes Buffy smile, a big broad thing born of genuine amusement. It's nice that, despite the world trying to end yet again (and so much of her own world changing), this has at least stayed the same. ]
I sure hope not. [ An automatic response, it comes out a little stronger than she'd intended, but she just shrugs it off. If anyone will understand the need for another few weeks of vacation from apocalypses, it's Faith. Good old-fashioned vampire and demon shenanigans only, please. Clearing her throat a little, she shifts in her seat before continuing. ] No, I just— wanted to touch base. Catch up, I guess, outside of HQ.
[She traces lines along the condensation of her beer, turning her bar stool to look at Buffy more head on as she talks, watching her as though trying to work out some kind of elaborate puzzle. Faith is honestly surprised that Buffy is seeking her out and it's only just to talk.
Maybe she figures Buffy didn't need her as much as Faith might hope for in her private moments and when she thinks on what might have been. It just seems easier to keep some distance, to keep from screwing up their tentative and seemingly fragile Slayer sistership. But those worries aside, being around Buffy even lately at HQ makes her an odd sort of anxious that she can't really explain away by her fears alone. It's like she's some kind of nervous school girl.] Okay... well I'm here. So, yeah, let's catch up? [Sounds easy enough, but Faith doesn't even know what to talk about. She settles on talking about tonight's patrol, just for something to say.] Cleveland's been pretty dead vamp wise. Tonight was a dud. Gotta tell the mini's to start saving me some so I don't get rusty.
[ The calendar is one of the hardest things to adjust to, seeing those dates that were supposed to have long since passed and knowing she'll have to watch history pass her by. It keeps Rogue up at nights, thinking of those years and all they represent. A new start, a fresh set of chances for the mutants of this timeline, the opportunity to change the world and keep things from ending up as they had in her lifetime. But it isn't a fresh start for her, not when she'd been thrown back to a bygone era when the timeline had reset. Everyone she had ever known would have that chance to live again, to not die in a senseless war that should never have happened in the first place, but she's stuck here, left to remember everything that happened. Everything they had done to her.
She winds up standing at the door to the mansion purely because she has nowhere else to go. Xavier's had been her home before it became her prison, and there a few places for a mutant as 'dangerous' as her to safely live, not when she has never mastered control over her powers. So as painful as it is to think of walking those halls again, of seeing students alive and well, she takes a deep breath and knocks, not having any idea of what to expect, but doing what she can to shore up her mental shields so she can at least feel a tiny bit prepared to face the man she'd considered mentor and friend.
Not that anything could ever really prepare her for what lies ahead. ]
[ There is a terribly broken mind coming to his school.
Charles doesn't make it a habit of reading everyone that comes across. It's just not fair -- not ethical, to use his powers in such a way. But if there is anything that attracts his attention most, it is pain, and the woman that is on her way to his front door is full of it.
It's the weekend, so fortunately Charles isn't bound to classrooms and lectures and making sure the children don't make too much of a racket. Typically he'd have asked Hank to get the door for him, but -- well. The girl seems to be looking for him. Charles doesn't delve too deep into her mind, and so does not realise that he's not necessarily the Charles that she's thinking of.
Some effort is necessary to get to the door, but he makes sure no-one is there before he is. And when he opens it, he sees a woman he's never met before in his life... though the face rings a bell, and he's not entirely sure why. ]
Hello. [ He shan't tell her of how he'd been in her head just moments earlier, absolutely. ] May I -- help you? With anything?
[ Rogue has counted on Charles keeping a mental eye on things and doing a cursory read of most of the people on the premises, if only to make sure everything is alright. She knows from personal experience that he tries not to be invasive, so while he could probably tear through her shielded thoughts like paper if he really put in the effort, she is certain that all he'll receive is that impression that she is there for him. It's a certainty that is rewarded when he's the one who answers the door - a Charles so young that it makes her heart ache. ]
My name is Rogue. [ If he's heard of her before, it's likely to be by that name. ] I'm-- I used to be a student of yours. A long time from now.
[ She's nervous, more so than she's been about anything in a very long time. He could turn her away, deeming her too much trouble. He could demand to know all the things she can't bear to tell him. He could try to help and make everything so much worse. But she won't know until she tries, so she stays standing where she is, a small duffel clutched in a gloved hand, waiting with bated breath for the blade to fall one way or the other. ]
[The first few days after the success of Operation Pitfall are a whirlwind of activity, as exhilarating as they are disorienting. There are repeated medical exams "just in case", congratulations and thank yous and celebrations, but Mako can't help but find it all exhausting. She's yo-yoing between emotions, and the knowledge that they've saved the world doesn't seem to want to sink in. Her losses are like an open wound, and sometimes, in quiet moments, she can't help but cling to them. Anything else would feel like a betrayal. Herc feels the same, she thinks—he's a force of nature, throwing himself into the work of what will become of the PPDC, of debriefings and reports, but sometimes she spots him alone, face drawn and Max still by his side.
She's not sure what she expected. Every second of her life, from the moment Sensei saved her, has been dedicated to this. As much as she tries not to think it, she can't help but wonder what's next. Gipsy's hanger, long a place where she would go when her mind wouldn't stop, is heartbreakingly empty, and Mako feels adrift. Maybe it's no wonder that she finds herself in front of Raleigh's door instead. For a moment, she hesitates, hands clasped in front of her, wondering what she even wants to say, but then she forces herself to knock.]
@ rogue / sings idk what i'm doing but have a dream or smth!!!
[ there's a cobblestone street lined with delicate pastel buildings. there's a song, a hum of lyrical genius drifting on the breeze. the temperature is peak perfection up here, the air clear and full of clouds that are robust and white and picturesque. it's practically a painting, with each stroke creating a perfectly recalled sound - the warm thrum of music in a square, the murmur of people. and the people. they're practically humming with character all their own, though stall too long and it might look as though they could be on loop, a movie that plays over and over again, stopping about a minute in and doubling back on itself. the same woman goes to the market, the same man plays a simple but poignant refrain over and over again. it's nostalgic, but in a way that isn't yours.
it's a beautiful place, with an atmosphere so clean it's almost impossible to believe. a path so drawn out it's a bit hard to ignore, stones fitting just right, wandering their way to a pair of chairs in the square, a table, a man with legs stretched out and a comically large newspaper fanned out in front of his face, which peers up just slightly over the pages at her as she approaches.
from behind the paper, a cup of coffee nudged forward by slender fingers - just how you like it.
the music loops over on itself again, brighter - perhaps a bit more at attention now. ]
I wasn't expecting company.
[ the smile is easy for rogue, weary at the edges but barely detectable to most who don't share an undefinable tangle of brain space with one another. ]
[ It's been two years since the day Rogue fell into the past. Almost two years since the incident with Apocalypse, when she'd watched from far away as the world tried to end again. It was only after that that she'd approached Charles and Erik, arriving at the school during the rebuilding process. She hadn't stayed long, the memories of the mansion too much to bear, but it had been long enough to make connections before returning to her home in the South. All it took was one conversation with Charles to set in motion her plan to act as a boarding house for mutants, a place for any to find shelter when they needed it. And it gave her a reprieve from the aching loneliness and grief.
It's strange for her to see how different this world is from the one she'd left behind. Mystique's actions had changed the way the world saw mutants, and that in itself hasn't been easy for her to swallow. It isn't all sunshine and daisies, of course, and she isn't naïve enough to hope for that outcome, but she has to hope that it will be better.
The house is rather empty now, just a handful of people passing through on their way to other places, but there's one person in particular who she was a bit surprised to see. He'd arrived late in the night and she'd barely slept since, tossing and turning before finally rolling out of bed at dawn to pad into the kitchen for coffee. With the smell of the fresh pot wafting through the house, she stepped out onto the porch in bare feet drowning in long pajama pants. The day is already hot, a southern summer rolling in heavily, but she settles onto the porch swing and cradles her mug in peaceful silence, wondering how long it would be before he wandered out himself. ]
[ Erik himself left the mansion not long after Rogue had. He couldn't stay, either. Too many memories. Too many changes. Too many expectations. Besides, he couldn't stop wondering what all of these students were supposed to do once they left school. So he started working on a plan, one that he knew would take a great deal of time, effort, and money.
Luckily he had all three to spare.
A few years in he came to realize that he needed more of his own kind working on the project. The more humans involved, however well-meaning, the more vulnerable they would be. So he went to the boarding house to see if there were any who might be amenable. Or maybe he would be very lucky and Rogue herself would prove amenable. The smell of coffee alerts him in the early hours that he is not the only one awake. He prowls the house, moving silently so as not to wake any of the others. And finds her sitting alone on the porch.
He leans against the doorframe, letting the screen door close behind him so as not to let the bugs in. (There are so many bugs in this part of the country. How do people live like this?) He's dressed simply in khakis and a maroon polo. He usually prefers to wear long sleeves, to cover the tattoo, but it's too damned hot. (Seriously, how?) ]
Things seem to be going well here. The locals don't bother you too much?
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fateandfortune2018-03-20 11:59 pm
For Buffy
It's lucky they've had a lot of work to do setting up the new Watchers, finding all the new Slayers, or else her active evasion might have been more noticeable. But it seems keeping her contact with Buffy to the spare phone conversation and Slayer/Watcher meeting is finally coming to an end.
Faith is back in Cleveland. And so is Buffy. Cleveland isn't the same as Sunnydale with only one bar worth going to, so isn't it just her luck that the one dive bar Faith decides to head to after a uneventful patrol, seems to be the same one Buffy is in too. She sees her at the bar, waiting for a drink presumably. It's not like she can just pretend Buffy's not there, right? And what's the worst that could happen saying hello? Oh fuck. Why'd she going thinking that? Now she's just doomed the whole entire thing!]
Hey, Buffy. [She slides up next to her at the bar.] What brings you here? Hot date?
no subject
It's helped in ways that Buffy hadn't expected. Maybe it's because with Spike gone, Faith is all she has left of people she can trust with what really matters. So when she finds herself back in Cleveland after an arduous trip to the UK, she makes a split second decision and plops herself in the bar where she's bound to run into her sister Slayer. And she waits.
She's waited her way through a whole drink by the time Faith arrives, which is probably why she doesn't hesitate to give a truthful answer. ]
I was waiting for you.
no subject
[She takes her beer when it's slid over to her, taking a large gulp to distract herself with and work out what to say next. Clearing her throat, she settles on asking lamely.] So, what's up? Another apocalypse brewing?
no subject
I sure hope not. [ An automatic response, it comes out a little stronger than she'd intended, but she just shrugs it off. If anyone will understand the need for another few weeks of vacation from apocalypses, it's Faith. Good old-fashioned vampire and demon shenanigans only, please. Clearing her throat a little, she shifts in her seat before continuing. ] No, I just— wanted to touch base. Catch up, I guess, outside of HQ.
no subject
Maybe she figures Buffy didn't need her as much as Faith might hope for in her private moments and when she thinks on what might have been. It just seems easier to keep some distance, to keep from screwing up their tentative and seemingly fragile Slayer sistership. But those worries aside, being around Buffy even lately at HQ makes her an odd sort of anxious that she can't really explain away by her fears alone. It's like she's some kind of nervous school girl.] Okay... well I'm here. So, yeah, let's catch up? [Sounds easy enough, but Faith doesn't even know what to talk about. She settles on talking about tonight's patrol, just for something to say.] Cleveland's been pretty dead vamp wise. Tonight was a dud. Gotta tell the mini's to start saving me some so I don't get rusty.
{ for charles }
She winds up standing at the door to the mansion purely because she has nowhere else to go. Xavier's had been her home before it became her prison, and there a few places for a mutant as 'dangerous' as her to safely live, not when she has never mastered control over her powers. So as painful as it is to think of walking those halls again, of seeing students alive and well, she takes a deep breath and knocks, not having any idea of what to expect, but doing what she can to shore up her mental shields so she can at least feel a tiny bit prepared to face the man she'd considered mentor and friend.
Not that anything could ever really prepare her for what lies ahead. ]
finally getting to this!!!!
Charles doesn't make it a habit of reading everyone that comes across. It's just not fair -- not ethical, to use his powers in such a way. But if there is anything that attracts his attention most, it is pain, and the woman that is on her way to his front door is full of it.
It's the weekend, so fortunately Charles isn't bound to classrooms and lectures and making sure the children don't make too much of a racket. Typically he'd have asked Hank to get the door for him, but -- well. The girl seems to be looking for him. Charles doesn't delve too deep into her mind, and so does not realise that he's not necessarily the Charles that she's thinking of.
Some effort is necessary to get to the door, but he makes sure no-one is there before he is. And when he opens it, he sees a woman he's never met before in his life... though the face rings a bell, and he's not entirely sure why. ]
Hello. [ He shan't tell her of how he'd been in her head just moments earlier, absolutely. ] May I -- help you? With anything?
no subject
My name is Rogue. [ If he's heard of her before, it's likely to be by that name. ] I'm-- I used to be a student of yours. A long time from now.
[ She's nervous, more so than she's been about anything in a very long time. He could turn her away, deeming her too much trouble. He could demand to know all the things she can't bear to tell him. He could try to help and make everything so much worse. But she won't know until she tries, so she stays standing where she is, a small duffel clutched in a gloved hand, waiting with bated breath for the blade to fall one way or the other. ]
give me sweater boy
She's not sure what she expected. Every second of her life, from the moment Sensei saved her, has been dedicated to this. As much as she tries not to think it, she can't help but wonder what's next. Gipsy's hanger, long a place where she would go when her mind wouldn't stop, is heartbreakingly empty, and Mako feels adrift. Maybe it's no wonder that she finds herself in front of Raleigh's door instead. For a moment, she hesitates, hands clasped in front of her, wondering what she even wants to say, but then she forces herself to knock.]
@ rogue / sings idk what i'm doing but have a dream or smth!!!
it's a beautiful place, with an atmosphere so clean it's almost impossible to believe. a path so drawn out it's a bit hard to ignore, stones fitting just right, wandering their way to a pair of chairs in the square, a table, a man with legs stretched out and a comically large newspaper fanned out in front of his face, which peers up just slightly over the pages at her as she approaches.
from behind the paper, a cup of coffee nudged forward by slender fingers - just how you like it.
the music loops over on itself again, brighter - perhaps a bit more at attention now. ]
I wasn't expecting company.
[ the smile is easy for rogue, weary at the edges but barely detectable to most who don't share an undefinable tangle of brain space with one another. ]
{ for erik }
It's strange for her to see how different this world is from the one she'd left behind. Mystique's actions had changed the way the world saw mutants, and that in itself hasn't been easy for her to swallow. It isn't all sunshine and daisies, of course, and she isn't naïve enough to hope for that outcome, but she has to hope that it will be better.
The house is rather empty now, just a handful of people passing through on their way to other places, but there's one person in particular who she was a bit surprised to see. He'd arrived late in the night and she'd barely slept since, tossing and turning before finally rolling out of bed at dawn to pad into the kitchen for coffee. With the smell of the fresh pot wafting through the house, she stepped out onto the porch in bare feet drowning in long pajama pants. The day is already hot, a southern summer rolling in heavily, but she settles onto the porch swing and cradles her mug in peaceful silence, wondering how long it would be before he wandered out himself. ]
8D
Luckily he had all three to spare.
A few years in he came to realize that he needed more of his own kind working on the project. The more humans involved, however well-meaning, the more vulnerable they would be. So he went to the boarding house to see if there were any who might be amenable. Or maybe he would be very lucky and Rogue herself would prove amenable. The smell of coffee alerts him in the early hours that he is not the only one awake. He prowls the house, moving silently so as not to wake any of the others. And finds her sitting alone on the porch.
He leans against the doorframe, letting the screen door close behind him so as not to let the bugs in. (There are so many bugs in this part of the country. How do people live like this?) He's dressed simply in khakis and a maroon polo. He usually prefers to wear long sleeves, to cover the tattoo, but it's too damned hot. (Seriously, how?) ]
Things seem to be going well here. The locals don't bother you too much?