Salve Characters: Mystique, Tony, their combined issues Setting: ShÅgatsu! The New Year, Japan. Content: I don't know anymore. Sexual situations? Offscreen humping? Candid discussion? I don't know. Summary: With Mystique's identity revealed, Tony keeps pining and has finally given in. She might be telling the truth, right? So they go to Japan, new year, fresh start, to get to know each other all over again.
It was a familiar routine. First, a text reading "Knock knock", followed by the sound itself on the door to S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent 48, Counter Advancement Recovery Ops, Raven Darkholme's apartment. Beyond it, a man in a dark, nondescript suit waited like a bouncer outside of a nightclub, only over his shoulder there was a limousine painted in a particularly ostentatious ember red with gold accents. There weren't too many people that vehicle could belong to. The suited man's instructions were clear: be respectful, but do not engage with the package. Take her to the airstrip to meet the jet already idling on the runway.
The airborne leg of the journey wasn't much different. It started with another text: "The cabin is suspended in liquid teflon. You shouldn't feel a thing. Make yourself at home." In case that wasn't enough to put someone at ease, the jet boasted a crew (equally as unsociable as the driver) that provided a liberal selection of cocktails and hard liquors amongst a selection of light canapes to keep even the most sensitive of stomachs untroubled, a diverse entertainment faculty, and an expansive, luxuriously dressed bed for a quick siesta. It was just a little creative doodle he thought he'd try out. It teased the frozen upper atmosphere and drifted through a constant, serene white fog.
Then, finally, touchdown, where a steward dressed in Stark blue finally admitted, "Welcome to Okinawa, Miss Darkholme. The temperature is eighteen degrees Celsius, and the local time is eight forty-two PM. Your car is outside. Have a happy New Year."
A long, slow drive through unfamiliar streets, progressively getting further away from the packed sidewalks of holiday energy, brought her up a dark mountain where she could look down on the bright lights of celebration. Their destination was a sprawling inn, deadly quiet and empty with the smell of the ocean breeze disturbing the clear, crisp mountain air. The second driver was relieved by three women in kimono who led Raven through the lobby, straight through humid halls to the steamy warmth of a hot spring. Bamboo woven baskets offered sterile, white towels and demanded Raven's clothes, and she was left in privacy to relax in the soothing waters.