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November 10th, 2009

You know I try to read between the lines. [Jo]

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With Aurora missing and JP out searching for her, Walter had been out of sorts, to say the least. At first he’d felt a little bad about completely dropping his work at the school, especially since a heft of it landed on that kid’s--on Val’s--shoulder, but his duties here were still based on his work with Department H and Alpha Flight, and it was his job to devote his full attention to Aurora’s absence and undoubted peril, to stay in contact with the Hudsons and to do all he could to contribute to the situation.

That didn’t take very long. )

[Open to Jo.]

November 9th, 2009

I ran to a tower where the church bells chime, I hoped that they would clear my mind. [JP]

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Jeanne-Marie had flown until she couldn't stay in the air any longer in order to reach this place. It didn't look like anything special, just an old run-down chapel towards the edge of nowhere that was probably only maintained for the sake of a few local families, but for Jeanne-Marie, it had always been a sanctuary. One of the special places where she knew she could expect to find peace and quiet, and with them, God; in her times of need, guidance from the heavens was the only thing that could get her through the confusion and danger, and waking up in an unknown place surrounded by hostile strangers definitely counted as a time of need. She had no idea where her brother was, or how she'd gotten into that hospital bed, but it didn't matter. The details were never important, she'd come to learn. What mattered was that she was always in the arms of God, and no matter how many times she was tested, she could find her way back to this place of solitude and feel safe.

Not that she hadn't been afraid. She'd barely been strong enough to stand upright as she'd come inside the church, and she still had to pull the needles from her arm, tear the electrode from her chest, then find clothes. It was freezing cold in Canada in November. Fortunately, she'd been here often enough to know where the donation box was, and soon enough, she was out of that wretchedly revealing hospital gown and bundled in other people's clothes which would keep her warm enough. There wasn't much in the way of food laying about in the chapel, however. Usually the old priest who looked after the parish would provide for her, but he wasn't there or couldn't hear her feeble cries for assistance, and she remained alone among the pews as the sun set that evening.

Alone in the dark church, she had crawled up onto the steps of the dais in order to pray. She wasn't sure what for -- she was just scared, lost, desperate for something. There was barely any strength left in her limbs, and she must have began to run a fever at some point, because her rocking had turned into a fierce shivering that rattled her bones even as sweat beaded on her forehead. To Jeanne-Marie, however, her prayers seemed to be working. She saw strange lights dancing around her, swirls of color, heard the echoes of her recitations spoken as though through the mouths of angels. Hallucinations, possibly, but it was filling her heart with a hope and faith that made her feel faint with the will of God coursing through her. She knew that He would provide for her. Help was on its way.

[ open to jean-paul! ]

November 6th, 2009

Whose side are you on? What side is this anyway? [AU & RW]

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Aurora hated waiting more than anything else in the world. Time had always been a fluid concept to the Beaubiers: what most people saw as fast was normal for Aurora, and the longer periods of hours or days that were tolerable to most people could stretch agonizingly long for her. The fact that their thinning numbers were beginning to seem inevitable and the only thing they could do at this point was wait -- wait for their turn, wait for a solution to present itself, wait for everything to become clear -- was simply unacceptable to Aurora, because it was taking forever. It had been ages since she'd seen her twin, too long since she'd been able to go out and have fun, countless hours and days and weeks since her life had been disrupted by these ridiculously mysterious disappearances, and the idea of spending god knows how much longer cooped up inside the Danger Room was beyond her comprehension. At some point, she knew she just wouldn't be able to take it anymore. And Aurora was not known for her patience.

So far, however, she thought she'd been bearing this imposed confinement quite admirably. She hadn't lost her temper with anyone yet, hadn't sneaked above ground to escape the oppressing boundaries of the subbasements, and hadn't misbehaved in any way since what felt like forever. Her self-control was impressive by her standards. Whenever she felt likely to bite off someone's head, she'd taken to zipping around the ceiling where no one could catch her, or slipping away to the locker rooms adjoining the Danger Room for a brief respite of privacy. Speedster or not, there were a few simple pleasures in life that Aurora did not like to rush, and one of them was the enjoyment of a long, hot shower. It was a luxury that she hadn't been denied despite being in lockdown, thanks to the team showers, and that evening when students started yawning and eying their cots thoughtfully, Aurora excused herself. Of course, the buddy system meant that the nosy nurse Madelyne had stood up to follow her out, but Aurora paid no attention to her uninvited tail. She'd never had trouble closing her eyes and blocking everyone else out.

Standing under the spray was a blessed relief. )
[ NARRATIVE ]

'cause you never loved me anyway. (au & rw)

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An hour after Sadie disappeared - just fucking disappeared, went back into the room to grab her jacket and never came out again - Hendrix's cell phone started to vibrate in his coat pocket. He almost didn't hear it at first, he was so single-mindedly focused on thinking of other places she might be, other places he might still be able to find her. He'd been everywhere already, he knew that, but it wasn't like he was just going to give up and resign himself to having lost his sister. By the time he'd heard that insistent buzz, recognized it for what it was, and fumbled the phone out of his pocket, it was already too late to answer the call. One missed call, the display screen read. One new voicemail. Oh god, what if it was his mother? What if it was Bruce? He pressed the button with a sinking sense of dread. Call from: SADIEBOT.

Surprise! Oh my god, Henrietta, I had you going for a minute, didn't I? )

(NARRATIVE)

i don't know where the blood goes. [ au & rw ]

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"Hendrix? HENDRIX!"

Jesus fucking Christ, she’d turned around for two seconds to grab something from her room and when she came out the door again her idiot brother was gone. Fucking perfect. Sadie grumbled to herself, masking her worry as she stomped down the hallway, rapping her gloved knuckles on doors and barging in to see if he was hiding from her. They were heading down to the Danger Room, or at least they had been talking about it and now he’d been fucking kidnapped by ghosts or abducted by aliens or ninjas or whatever. Sadie rounded a corner, still intent on her hunt and stopped in her tracks; something about the hallway seemed awfully familiar but definitely not part of Xaviers. Two elevators stood side by side, they had red doors and art deco type lights above them signalling the position of the car in the shaft that was out of sight, a wooden floor spread out on front of them, replacing the carpet she had been walking along; the walls were panelled halfway up to match, white paint took over and extended to the ceiling. For some reason she felt like she knew those doors but her mind was fogged by fear and refused to place them. With a dramatic double thump her heart lurched into her throat, the door on he left was opening. Out of the crack gushed a torrent of blood with an almighty crash against the floor, something that looked like a body making a wet splash as it tumbled out of the crack. Sadie didn’t even have time to scream, she was too busy sucking in a deep, shocked breath.

Sweating with panic, vision blurring with fear she turned around to run away from the blood surging towards her. )

[ narrative ]

I'd share with you, could I only speak. [RW]

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Walter sat beside her bed and thought about how she would have hated to know how helpless she seemed right now. She would have expected to be in his care, though. Despite everything.

He couldn't help but wonder how things would be when she woke up; when the initial panic and distractions wore off and they actually had to face each other and look at themselves and talk.

These were exactly the sort of thoughts he shouldn't be having. This was his break. JP was off somewhere, that healer kid had the med labs under control for now, things were actually a little quiet and Walter was sipping his lukewarm coffee and wishing it were hot and watching over his teammate and it was supposed to be a rest, reprieve. But as ever, his mind just charged ahead. )

their faces switch from friendly to attack; [au & rw]

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In retrospect, perhaps separating from everyone else consciously hadn't been the wisest move on his part. To make matters worse, the fact that he had dashed back up from the underground levels of the school for, of all things, a book was nothing short of idiotic of him. They had all figured out that something was happening to make people disappear, it had been going on for weeks now, and why exactly Luka had gotten it in his head to head back upstairs -- alone -- away from the very epitome of safety in numbers was beyond him, especially now that he stood in the faculty wing of the mansion with that book in his hands just outside his door. Trying to remember why he had wanted this book was impossible, the answer wouldn't come, and he looked left and right up the extent of the hallway on either side of him as though expecting a great big monster to come bounding around the corner here or there and lunge for him, jaws gaping hungrily.

That didn't happen, of course, but the fact that Luka could have sworn he'd heard something didn't exactly put his mind at ease. Standing there by himself, more than a little intimidated by so much empty space, he couldn't bring himself to move. It was a lose-lose situation, one of those classic conundrums that might have made for interesting discussions in his class. But this wasn't a class, he wasn't a character in a movie, and there were no two ways about it: if he did not actively move from the spot where he was standing, then he would not get back downstairs to the Danger Room. He had to start putting one foot in front of the other and actually get himself underway. There was no way he could magically go from Point A to Point B, no matter how much he wished it was possible. Unfortunately his mutation was nowhere near that useful, and so, taking in a deep breath and reminding himself that he was not five years old and therefore not afraid of being by himself, he finally stepped away from his closed door and started walking down the hallway. )


[ narrative; closed ]

November 4th, 2009

arm yourself, because no-one else here will save you. (au & rw)

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The scratching behind the walls hadn't stopped. It hadn't gotten quieter, or easier to ignore; if anything, over the last few weeks it had gotten louder and more insistent. Everywhere Aster went, whatever she was doing, whatever she tried to focus on, she could hear it in the background. Little teeth, ripping and tearing at the insulation. Little feet with little claws clicking on the ceilings and support beams. Little scaly tails dragging in the dust. She could picture them in her mind, peering around corners at her and vanishing as she turned around, lurking behind doors and scuttling under furniture. She'd started tucking the edges of her quilt under the mattress, obsessively keeping them from dragging on the floor; she'd started sitting with her feet up every time she took a seat, just in case something ran over her shoes or up her pant leg. None of it really helped. With all the chaos she'd been able to distract herself a little, focus on the creepiness of the disappearances instead of the somehow more horrifying creepiness of the sounds of rats, but the fact remained that she'd been living in a state of quietly escalating fear for the last month or so.

And a week ago it had gotten worse. )

(NARRATIVE)

November 3rd, 2009

the pain of logic and reason that hides in here; [au & rw]

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The search for Dominic had been a fruitless one so far, even with a metamorph's enhanced senses in on the hunt. Honestly Deacon had been surprised, and not in a good way, when Harper had come up empty. The three of them -- Deacon, Molly and Harper -- had done a full circuit of the grounds, more than one in fact, and turned up nothing. In the end it had dropped to just two of them again after Harper had needed to leave; Deacon hadn't begrudged her that necessity, had simply nodded his head when she'd told him she was going back to the mansion. Now it was just the two of them again, walking around in the failing light, ignoring everything inside the school in the hopes of finding Dom. Every time they completed a circuit with no trace or sign, Deacon would insist they go round again. And again. And again. Over and over and over they walked the perimeter only to come up empty-handed and for the big Intruder the frustration was starting to show.

His father couldn't be missing. It was absurd. It was laughable and maddening enough as it was that Chris had up and disappeared, one of the Brotherhood, the last person Deacon had expected to fall victim to this... whatever it was. Having one of his parents vanish as well was completely unacceptable. With every fresh circuit of the grounds he checked Molly was still with him to the point of being obsessive, and not subtle about it either. He would stop and look back at her, pause and engage her in needless conversation to check that he wasn't just imagining she was still with him every step of the way. It wouldn't have been the first time someone had vanished from beside a partner and Deacon was determined not to fall victim to such tactics himself, or more to the point, have his mother snatched away from under his nose. That was not going to happen. )


[ narrative; closed ]

October 30th, 2009

here inside i'm at home, i'm alive; [au & rw]

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They had come out of nowhere, faceless strangers dressed in black and armed with guns, the kind that -- at least according to long-term residents of the school -- had appeared as if from thin air more than once in the past and wreaked havoc. It was Tobias' first experience with men like this; they weren't mutants, seemed to have no intentions other than to make as much mess as possible. The gunfire started on the top floor. They must have landed on the roof and started working their way down. The echoing din began to crack along the ground floor soon after that, disrupting the night and throwing the school into chaos. Was this what they had been building up to? Was this why people had been disappearing?

Did these people have Jo?

Tobias like others had immediately fallen back on training. He didn't have range powers or any kind of defences as a direct result of his mutation, but he was fast and agile, had good reflexes and had trained intensely over the years since he had joined the Junior team so long ago. That was the kind of training that, with regular practise, didn't just fade away. So he'd darted out of his room and engaged the intruders, trying as best he could to shut out the sounds of screaming and what he thought with a ball of dread forming in his stomach was weights striking the ground on the floors above. Bodies hitting the floor. Tobias hoped beyond hope that they were the trespassers and not the students or residents. Everything was chaotic, broken glass and shouting and flares and booms of powers triggering and firing off in every direction. Tobias' ears were ringing before he had even finished fighting, his lungs burning and his limbs tingling with the beginnings of an ache that would soon wear off thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his body; he didn't even feel any bodily protests as he jogged through the corridors looking for others, whether they be black-clad strangers or people in need of help. )


[ narrative; closed ]

October 28th, 2009

she'll burn our horizons, make no mistakes, [ au & rw ]

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When she left the note for Nico it was only meant to be for little while, they had both been sticking together since both of his brothers were now gone and so too was King, they’d fallen asleep whilst holed up in one of the rooms but as she had done so more frequently Angel had woken up again not long after the fact feeling hot and uncomfortable. It was a feeling she was familiar with, one that she had experienced countless times as a teenager, the creep and crackle of radiation on her skin, simmering up her spine in that way that made her feel as though her bones themselves were on fire. It was for Nico's own good that she crept out really, she had been controlling her mutation for years, making sure that while she couldn't stop the constant absorption she could manage the output, keep it at safe levels for everyone around her. Lately she hadn't felt totally in control of it and she doubted his brothers would forgive her if she ended up burning Nico, accidentally or not. So she wriggled off the bed and scribbled a note in clean printed handwriting just in case he woke up while she was gone.

Gone for a walk, back soon. a xx )

[ rahne! ]

October 27th, 2009

hate me for breathing without you, [au & rw]

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Before her mind could truly form cogent thoughts she knew that she had awoken in a hospital room. Horror crept up the back of her throat like black copper as the sterile scent of disinfectant burnt her nostrils, the taste of latex slick on the back of her throat. Disorientated she tried to piece together what had happened in the moment before she’d blacked out. What she remembered was fuzzy: One moment she'd been walking along the hallways of Xaviers and the next her cheekbone had hit the carpet, her arms were twisted up behind her back, she could feel the rough patches on their palms, the calluses on their fingers as they secured her wrists with cable tie. Then the sting of a syringe in her backside. It was obvious to her that they had to be involved with the disappearances somehow, but while they had been fast and efficient, they couldn’t have been fast enough to escape the notice of those who had their partners snatched out from behind them.

Groggily she pushed those thoughts away, what mattered now was that she find the others, they had to be here somewhere, maybe in rooms just like hers. There was a tube up her nose, taped to her upper lip. Coughing, Jo took hold of it in one shaking hand and tugged it experimentally. Nausea crested up her torso. Gritting her teeth Jo yanked the tube and felt it slide up through the back of her nasal cavity, making her cough and splutter until it was out. Afterwards she lay there for a few minutes panting, sweat was already beading on her forehead and sliding down her neck and she was so tired all of a sudden. That was odd. Jo knew she was in peak physical condition, her mutation made sure of that. Feeling giddy and hot Jo shoved herself to her elbows only to hear a sudden ringing in her ears.

In place of her flat stomach was a bump. )

[ narrative ]

October 22nd, 2009

Down down baby, down in the center of this town. [AU & RW]

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It was mid-afternoon when Kitty woke up. Groggily, she stretched out on her bed and rolled over onto her stomach, toes curling out from the bottom of her blankets as she peered around the room. God, how late had she stayed up last night messing around on the internet? Waaaay too late. Molly was nowhere to be seen. Probably off implementing her complimentary buddy system, which would be her son -- Deacon was as good of a guard as any, and from the hard stares that Kitty had gotten her way whenever she followed Molly into a room, much preferable to herself. Oh well. The system wasn't a bad idea, but so far Kitty wasn't convinced of its effectiveness. People were still disappearing periodically, and if sticking together prevented them from getting snatched into the ether, the fact remained that no one could be with another person one hundred percent of the time. Quite honestly, Kitty was already enjoying the few minutes alone. Sometimes a girl just needed a little bit of breathing space.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and smiled to herself. Peace and quiet was always a nice way to start her morning. ...day. Whatever.

It took a few seconds for Kitty to notice that subtle sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. )
[ NARRATIVE ]

October 12th, 2009

. our hair is perfect while we're all getting shit wrecked . [ au & rw ]

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The glamor which had once burned brightly within the life of the New York native Eudora Aren-Catherine had now started to fade. She had lived fabulously. She was wealthy, healthy, beautiful, and powerful. With less than a blink of the eye she could have nearly anything delivered to her at her beckon call. Few dared to challenge her, and those who did found themselves rightfully thrown back into their place. In her own suite at Xavier's, she slept in silk, bathed in wine, and would partake in only the best fineries that the high life could offer her while being housed at 1407 Greymalkin Lane. She always looked as if she had just exited the powder room, and there was never a time that the glorious heiress was not prepared to be photographed. She was a woman who potentially had everything that the feminine heart could desire. She had an extremely slender, modelesque body that one could only imagine how amazing her angles would be during love-making. She was part of the world's most prestigious mutant organizations--well, at least, one of them--and now, it seemed nothing could be better. Of course, when things held the wondrous appearance of being divinely perfect, flaws usually held themselves comfortably beneath the warm sheets of comfort which life tended to wrap the human mind with. Everything would seem great at one moment, but when one was pulled from their box of comfort yet again, they would soon find themselves unsettled. Lost within their own skin. In short, frightened. At least, such was the case for this beautiful young mind witch. She was scared--very scared--and she had no clue why. Visions plagued her dreams constantly, and she could never shake the feeling that something awful was just around the corner. Her consultations with her more blissfully simplistic mind offered little comfort, as well. Every fiber of her being knew that something was wrong. The Earth did, as well, with it's strange patterns. The winds, the skies, and the souls of their world were not right. She knew this without a doubt. The rambunctious disappearance of some of the school's occupants had left Eudora feeling extremely uncomfortable. )
[ narrative ]

October 7th, 2009

and you think it'll be fine, but not this time around; [au & rw]

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Brandon had never been much of a romantic at heart, despite the fact that he was a fan of the classics, flowers and candy and chocolates and surprise dates and all that fun stuff, but if he was going to be honest with himself, having Laura up and disappear without a trace along with the others over the last however long it had really been had taken its toll on him. Most of it was likely psychosomatic and really, he shouldn't have let it get to him as much as he did, but nothing struck him as particularly amusing anymore, he'd gone back to wearing hats of one nature or another, something he was only doing of late whenever he was feeling insecure or disappointed or otherwise depressed about something, and he'd taken to toying with his fire again, a somewhat-nervous or otherwise distracted habit he'd dropped some time ago. All because Laura had vanished into thin air. But in Brandon's defence -- and he thought it was a damn good "in my defence" at that -- they had been a couple for over a year now, and while her going off to college was one thing, having her drop off the face of the planet was quite another. It didn't sit well with him, not at all, and he didn't like that they didn't know what was going on, or that there were no signs of progress.

It wasn't like Brandon to be short with anyone, not unless they were someone like Eudora or Jack, the school bitch and jerk who just asked for it most of the time, and so when he found himself turning on his partner and all but snapping at them for a harmless remark about one meaningless matter or another, it had caught him well and truly off guard and, more to the point, come as something of a wake up call. If nothing else, he needed to clear his head. So it was off for a walk, mumbled and hasty apologies offered to said partner, hands shoved deep in his pockets and the peak of his cap pulled down low over his brow. )


[ open to laura ]

October 5th, 2009

my face is all wet cause my day was rough. [AU & RW]

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When it happened, it didn't seem real at first. In fact Luci was convinced it was merely a nightmare, that he'd nodded off in the middle of watching television or had fallen asleep in the shower after a shift. One moment he was kissing Jean-Paul, enjoying the fact that they had some time alone together, and the next he wasn't. It was probably that which should have clued him in and maybe if he'd been thinking straight, maybe if he'd taken stock of the situation, he'd have realised how odd it was that Nico had left his side. After all, why would his brother -who had been nothing short of a human limpet in the days following Val's disappearance- suddenly reassert his independence. But for whatever reason, Luci didn't think about any of these things.

When he opened his eyes he found himself sitting on a bed in a strange room that -no, wait. It wasn't strange at all, he realised on closer inspection, in fact there was something eerily familiar about it. Something about the layout reminded him of their old apartment -their first apartment- except that the decorating scheme was different, in the sense that there was one for a start. The cramped, one bed apartment that he'd shared with his brothers had been primarily decorated with drawings and scribblings which Nico had done himself. After a while Val had begun to pin them up on the walls, and Luci had always wondered if he'd done so to encourage Nico's artistic talent or to simply cover up the spots with the worst mildew and damp. He'd never had the heart to ask though, instead nodding and hmming in the right places when his opinion was asked for. They'd both looked so proud when he'd come home from work and discovered the new, brightly covered walls in the kitchen.

He was suddenly shaken out of his trip down memory lane by the sound of a door closing shut and the unmistakable presence of another mind in the next room. )

[NARRATIVE]

[AU, RW] NARRATIVE, PART 2.

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Following Rogue’s disappearance, Betsy had never again been lucky enough to be listening at the precise moment that a voice was extinguished—partially because Nate Grey, supposedly the most powerful telepath in the world, was now handling just that. Her own effort had been appreciated, though worthless—a frustration she hadn’t particularly enjoyed. Betsy knew she wasn’t as trained or as powerful as other telepaths, but here she was with these powers, and she could do nothing with them but sit and wait. And Betsy Braddock had never been good at waiting, especially when she had an idea to test.

Betsy brushed a strand of violet from her face, long lashes only partially hiding the clock face from view. It was 10:00 AM.

The bed creaked as she sat up slowly, fully dressed, the back of her neck stinging at the movement. It had been almost precisely a month since she’d gone out for her walk that led her to the memorial garden. A month since she’d last been able to sleep without the aid of medication and glancing behind herself each time her room felt too quiet, her hand coming to rest on her bare shoulder to guard her skin against some perceived chill. Lack of sleep made you paranoid, among other things, and at first, Betsy had feared she was becoming a prime example.

Now, she had other theories. )

let me break it to you, son -- your shit's fucked up. (au & rw)

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For two weeks now, Dan had been waiting - he wasn't sure for what exactly, he'd never done this before, but waiting for something. For another hallucination, maybe, another break with reality. Another conversation that only happened in his head. Every interaction was underlaid with a creeping sense of paranoia; it all felt real, but so had that first talk with Molly, and he found himself second-guessing almost every waking moment these days. He could never know for sure, that was the worst part. Any conversation could turn ugly without warning, any experience could be a lie, and the uncertainty would have been driving him crazy even if he hadn't already been losing his mind. Molly had promised him that they would figure this out, but with all due respect to her formidable optimism, he just wasn't sure he believed her - they had nothing to go on except a conversation that hadn't happened, that he wasn't willing to tell her about now that he knew it wasn't real, and that didn't seem like enough. Honestly, he was almost ready for the next part, whatever it was. At least then something would be happening beyond waiting and trying to keep from panicking.

For now, Molly was just being a good friend and waiting with him - watching cheesy movies, talking about nothing, doing her level best to keep him distracted. Some of the time it helped, giving him something mindless and normal to focus on, and some of the time it just made him paranoid - he kept expecting her to know, to remember the conversation he knew she hadn't really been there for, and it kept him a little bit on edge. He was pretty sure she could tell, but she hadn't said anything, like if they didn't talk about it he'd be able to just forget and watch some stupid movie about ninjas without worrying. And, what the hell, maybe she was right. Dan's coping method of turning things over and over in his head, analyzing each moment, trying to predict and working himself into a quiet panic - that sure as hell wasn't working, maybe Molly had the right idea. She'd showed up this afternoon with a DVD and popcorn, and she'd actually gotten a smile out of him, so she must have been doing something right.

He'd tuned out at some point, though, gotten lost in his own head again, because all of a sudden she was snapping her fingers in front of his face and jerking him back to the here and now. Blinking rapidly, he looked over just in time to catch "...earth to Dan!" Whatever she'd said before that, he'd missed it completely, but by this point he was pretty sure she was used to that - she'd gotten good at catching his eye before she said anything important, remembering that he needed to see her lips move most of the time. Now that she had his attention she smiled, pulling her hand back. "There you are. Jeez, I was about to start shaking you."

Sorry, I got lost for a second. )

(NARRATIVE)

September 23rd, 2009

If I stumble, they're gonna eat me alive. [AU & RW]

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-- Oh for fuck's sake. Adrien had never been someone who was afraid of voicing his opinion, and he rarely bit his tongue when he felt there was something worth saying, but this time he had obviously gone a little too far. He probably should have stopped when Cal threatened, because he knew well enough that Cal rarely made idle threats; there was no good reason for why he'd continued to run his mouth beyond the fact that he was rattled by the disappearances and that it was his nature. And then one minute he'd been sitting on the back porch with his phone, the next...standing on a street corner with his empty gloved hands raised. Times Square, possibly. At least on the edge of it, because parts were still blocked off for damage repair. He sighed, patted down his jacket pockets for their contents: besides a few American coins in his jacket pocket and his false ID that he'd apparently put into one of his breast pockets after his night out with Betsy, he only had his cigarettes and lighter. There wasn't even enough for a payphone. The only way he could contact anyone at the school was through his mindlink with Kevin, and he reached out gratefully to talk to his boss, but Kevin's mind was quiet and distant -- sleeping dreamlessly, it felt like. Probably crashing on the couch in the art room after staying up too long. Oh well. He could try again in a little while. Kevin deserved his rest. He understood that not knowing Laurie's whereabouts was wearing on Kevin, even if he didn't want to discuss it, and Adrien wanted to give him what little peace and quiet he could. He wasn't helpless; he could waste some time in the city in the meanwhile. If only he'd kept his wallet on him...

He started walking south, weaving his way with extra care through the crowds of people, even stepping into the street when the knot grew too thick for him to push through comfortably. It wasn't until he'd gone a few blocks that he noticed the stares. That wasn't unusual -- he was familiar with the sensation of eyes on the back of his neck, people glancing at him twice before nudging their companions -- but it was confirming what he'd always feared. No matter how much time had passed since the Cure attacks, no matter how many other scandals and intrigues took over the news channels after that, people hadn't forgotten his face. And they didn't look at him as a celebrity anymore. No, he was one step below being a criminal, officially excused but not forgiven. It must look even worse that he was returning to the scene of the crime, as though he'd chosen to come back here. Adrien would've been happy to never see the theater billboards and large virtual advertisements again. He remembered what the square looked like when it was full of bodies and dust, deserted like it had never been before, a disaster site out of some twisted horror movie that he'd never wanted to be part of. A disaster that he'd been at the epicenter of, clutching that bloody pipe and trying to catch breath that wouldn't come. He kept his head down and walked faster. Ideally, he could get downtown as quickly as possible, past the tourist attractions and into the office district where people were more concerned with eating their lunch before getting back to their desks than staring at a murderer. He would feel a little more invisible there. Safer.

Then someone caught his arm. )
[ NARRATIVE ]

September 22nd, 2009

. and maybe you will bruise as you fall through this roof . [AU & RW]

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Years of surviving the multitude of calamitous incidences at the school combined with a mind that still had wisps of people like Nate Grey and even Logan, had lent itself to what could only be described as an invincibility complex in Rogue. Whatever was going on, it certainly wasn't within her abilities to change it and with people like Rahne snatched up despite being near the very capable hands of Wolverine, she felt silly even trying. She was no longer on a team thanks to her personal demons (though eventually she intended to correct that) but she had just as much training and experience as the people who were, even more so in some cases and with team leaders disappearing at disproportionate rates there was a natural obligation to step up.

She didn't require a uniform or any official approval, not that she'd ask for or expect either, and she certainly wasn't interested in checking in with a buddy. Instead, Rogue ran soft, white fingers through the tangles of her hair and tightened her usual ponytail with a quick tug, more meticulous where her appearance was concerned for reasons she'd never openly admit and were solely for her to mull...and Warren, but he had given her a number of mental images she was not prepared for either so they were kind of even. In any event, there was no plan of action, no marked course for how she was to proceed and so she answered a baser call to patrol the grounds if only for her own peace of mind. Sitting around doing nothing would have been a goddamn crime and she felt almost relieved as she pulled on her much maligned gloves and felt her usual dichotomy of relief and despise. That she was decidedly less deadly with them on was a comfort but they were a hot, sweaty reminder not only for all of the things she could do but also those she couldn't.

It was probably a bad thing that she had a patrol routine, always starting and ending at the same points and following the same winding route which ensured that she could cover the most ground. It could easily have been called a walk, differing only be intention, but feeling useful soothed her some. She was good at brevity, at offering herself up to go first or willingly charging ahead at the front of a battle line, so perhaps it was with great irony that her return to reality began on the crest of one of the sweetest sounds... )

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