log: magneto + rogue WHO: Magneto + Rogue (movies) WHEN: Backdated to... idk, a little while ago. A short time after Erik got out of his Rogue-induced coma, and before Charles disappeared. WHERE: Rogue's room. WHAT: Erik confronts Rogue after she almost killed him, but he's not really as angry as he probably ought to be. In fact, he has some ideas about where to go from here. WARNINGS: N/A
Erik woke to blood and injury.
A battle had taken place with only his vague knowledge, a supernatural being from Snow's world wreaking havoc on the residents of Mount Weather. Chaos ensued as medical was overwhelmed, and everyone more or less forgot about the man who'd been sleeping for a week.
He only survived because he'd been protected, and two days after the attack he was still weak but he was conscious. The doctors were concerned, wanted to keep him for observation, but Erik felt he could either rest in a hospital, which he hated, or he could rest in his own bed.
And he did rest. Really. To his credit, he had soup and he stayed out of everyone's way. He didn't overwhelm himself by trying to help, he didn't make any speeches about the inevitability of violence and how Mount Weather was on the brink of war anyway.
On the third day after leaving medical, Erik got up. He dressed — black turtleneck, slim trousers, tan jacket — and he went searching.
He ignored the people still cleaning bits of glass from the floor. No, he was far more interested in finding one particular individual — the one who'd put him in a coma in the first place.
He was waiting for her in her room. Locks meant little to a man who manipulated metal.
"You and I need to talk."
Erik Lensherr’s consciousness was a clearing fog in the recesses of a mind which desired the stillness of untroubled waters. This was an outcome Marie was not to receive. Instead, the universe strove against her. Mutants kept her from flight, promised her their friendship, told her he would survive. Their little conclave beat on until it was beset by a new enemy. Why was it always the girls …
The vengeful glass women, when she could get close, would crumble under a very steady hand, and Rogue could feel the oats of her own heroics. She smiled on the regular. She found herself all too glad to feel a part of the society which began to coalesce under the mountain. There was less fear. Less anger. The gloves stayed on but she didn’t hate them. Mindfulness didn’t mean hatred; she didn’t have to hate what could be. They were an accepted part of her. Half quiet smiles and crooked temerity, half Bloody Mary, all rage and vengeance and death.
Shock of all shocks, then, that Erik would show up at her door with his clipped elegance and his cool self-possession. She shut the door behind herself quickly and sat on the foot of her bed, brow furrowed.
Erik had his hands tucked into his pockets. He didn't move, but his eyes followed her as she moved to sit. It was often difficult to tell his moods if he wasn't swinging from one extreme to the next. He kept himself contained, he kept his emotions bubbling under the surface so they didn't boil over.
Of course, Rogue knew this. She knew this better than anyone. And in looking at him now, what she'd know was this: however still he was, there was a hurricane underneath.
"I'm not angry with you," he said first, just to clear the air.
Erik could utter a sentence and fill it with all sorts of variegated meaning. Marie still took a few more words to get around to what she wanted. You may be still, but you’re boiling. I may want to be still, but I’m shifting. We can’t help but move. It’s just our nature. “You know, I didn’t think you would be.”
“I’m glad you’re around to not be mad.” She took a breath. “If you lived, I thought you’d be curious.”
If you lived. Erik's mouth twitched, but he didn't quite get around to smiling.
"You aren't wrong." If Rogue was to be believed, she'd taken Erik into her mind and soul. She'd gotten to reach far corners of his thoughts that he didn't show people. She knew him more intimately than anyone else — save perhaps Charles, who'd also delved into the recesses of his mind.
"Tell me what it feels like," he said. "To take someone into you that way."
“Your world. The way all those waves sing for you.”
How fascinating, still, to be a part of a world that longed. Rogue sported a cavalier smile, one that Erik would sometimes wear as armour. One that looked different on her young face, a mite fragile and foreign in its press of muscle. It felt like death. But she could bluster instead: “Feels like sex.”
Her answer startled a brief chuckle out of Erik. Was it honest? Perhaps. He didn't know. He liked it, however, and whether or not it was true he liked the fact that was what she went with. "Intimate, vulnerable, a rush of adrenaline and primal instinct … maybe," he said with a smile.
He wasn't cold, not really. He could certainly seem so — guarded and aloof, keeping most of his tumultuous feelings unseen from anyone looking at him, but when in a decent mood he was quick to smile or offer a laugh. It was no wonder that he could rally mutants under his banner and make them want to die for him. To be passionate was one thing, to be charismatic was another.
His smile, however, began to falter. "I'm sorry, however, for some of the things you saw." As far as he understood it, Rogue took his memories, his feelings, his life. Much of that was intensely difficult to watch, particularly his early teens. "Do these thoughts stay with you?"
“Stop. You aren’t supposed to apologize. Not for any of that.”
She paused, wondering how to relate to him what it was she could see, or what she still saw. The terror, the training, the rage. “You know, I have some idea.” She scooted out to the edge of her seat, leaning closer to him. “I have some idea that they stay, you know. Buried. And maybe even sometimes I can dredge them up.”
"You can bury these as deep as you can," said Erik, and it wasn't a suggestion. "No one needs to revisit my life."
He watched her closely, and had to wonder if she could predict his thoughts after being so long in his mind. "Have you trained?" he asked. "At all? Or are you too afraid to touch people that you don't dare experiment?"
His statement was met with a steady look. Indeed, she did not want to visit any more of that rage. Though, perhaps, there was still a thread of desire to feel one with the universe. His world was so different from hers. “A bit. Most of it was actual physical training at the Professor’s school.”
She paused. “People aren’t regularly lining up to get touched.”
"True," said Erik. "But if they were?"
“ … wait. You want to do it again?” Her brow furrowed and her gloved hand held still between them. “You understand what that means. Why?”
Erik grinned. It lasted only a second, and he sounded like a father dealing with a young child when he said: "No, no, I'm not talking about me," he said.
Clearly not. But Rogue had powers that needed to be trained and wielded, and Erik could always take a page out of Charles's book. Charles, surely, would insist on training her himself, but she had been studying with Charles. What good would that do her? She wouldn't go anywhere if she continued under his tutelage.
"There are generous people here, Rogue. People who'd like nothing more than to see you succeed, and would be more than willing to endure a little pain in order to help. For me, my powers are strongest when I reach a certain mindset, when I'm at peace with my anger and find serenity somewhere in the chaos. For you, it may be about finding a similar state. Build your ability to hold your powers back, like damming a river."
“ … that’s a good thought.” And honestly, there had been a thousand offers. People like the Rogue from the other world, from Betsy. They had all indicated that there was nothing so close as mutants. That family such as they came above all else. And so she believed them, too. But there was something to be said for going outside the circle of trust to gain that place between rage and serenity.
“If you hold your power so deep in your mind, who’s to say mine’s not a physical strength. I’m going to have to buck up and test this theory.” A smile.
Erik smiled fondly in return. "We never realize our full potential until we try," he said. It was the sort of thing Charles would say; Charles didn't have terrible ideas all the time. He believed in training mutants, believed in teaching them to control and refine their gifts, but then what? They came out of training with Charles stronger and better, and then wasted their time playing nice with people who hated them.
That was neither here nor there. The first part of it was good.
"So you're right. I do think you need to buck up and test this theory."