Beyond Evolution

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... )