Long Road Home (the_wolverine) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-03-18 15:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, freya, logan howlett (wolverine) |
Dreams are like that
Who: Logan and Freya
What: Drinking and Wings
When: Recent
Where: The Nightcrawler, and then the wilderness.
Status: complete
Rating: PG-13
Not being able to be overly far away from someone hadn’t been the worst thing ever. Kol seemed nice enough at any rate. But the thing that had gotten her was that he had a little girl. Sure, his daughter was far younger than Freya’s own son had been when he’d died, but the girl was still a child, and it hurt her to be around children sometimes. Despite what she showed the world, Freya had never gotten over her son’s death. Some days she was angry about it, angry about why the world had seen fit to take an innocent life with such cruelty. But most of the time she was sad, feeling a deep sorrow that could never be healed.
As it was, while she’d spent a little time to herself after being freed from the confines of whatever bound her and Kol together, she needed to get out before she got more broody than she already was. She’d broken out some photos of her son, and that never led anywhere good. But despite needing to get out, Freya wasn’t the clubbing type, or really the type to do much of anything exciting. So she opted to go for a drink or two. It at least got her out of her house for a while, right?
She came across a bar called The Nightcrawler, and the name intrigued her enough to go inside. She chose a place at the far end of the bar where there tended to be less traffic. Sitting on a stool was less problematic for her wings and being in an area that didn’t have constant people passing by lessened the chance someone brushed against her wings. Considering they were currently invisible thanks to a spell, no one would be able to see them. She’d had to cut holes in all of her tops in order to fit them over her wings. Luckily she had waist-length hair that allowed her to help disguise the holes.
Freya had no idea that she bore any resemblance to a certain bartender that worked here. She ordered a double scotch and waited patiently. There was something about her that was innately sad, but she wasn’t trying to attract attention about it. She was trying to blend in.
Death had been Logan’s constant companion for most of his life. The pattern was always the same; love someone. Watch them die, or leave. Usually the former, but sometimes the latter which was better than dying, but hurt no less. Even discounting the dreams, Logan had watched too many lovers die or leave. The Mariko of this world had died with their child unborn. Alyssa had died in his arms. Vel had taken their daughter away, unable to deal with life in Orange County or life loving a man like Logan.
And the dreams of course were a constant source of that grief. And Logan himself had died. Time and time again, for instances usually, but once or twice for a longer time.
After Alyssa had died, he’d … tried dying a few times on purpose, in the hopes of seeing her if only for a few minutes. The first two times, she’d been there; in life she’d guided lost spirits to the after life and that must have continued after death.
The third time, she’d told him to stop being an idiot and move on. He’d tried once more after that, and she hadn’t shown up.
All of that and that still didn’t get into kids, both lost and not.
This time of year was unpleasant for him. Alyssa had died in January, and February and March of that year remained a haze. So he’d sent Bo home in the hopes that working it off might help. So he didn’t think about Alyssa, or other women he’d lost. Or any of the kids biological or otherwise that he’d lost either.
He looked up. “Hey darlin’, thought I sent you …” Logan frowned. “You ain’t Bo.”
At first, Freya hadn’t thought the man was talking to her. At least until she looked at him and realized he was looking at her. “Oh, uh, no. Sorry if that’s a disappointment?” While Freya was a twin, her twin was a brother so she’d never been subject to being mistaken for someone else. Though she certainly wouldn’t be mistaken for her brother now with the very intricate Norse tattoos covering both of her arms from the shoulder all the way to her finger tips.
“You just...look a like like my favorite employee,” Logan explained, shrugging his shoulder. “It’s the --” Boobs “--hair. An’ maybe a bit of the nose.”
He leaned on the bar, jerking his chin towards the display of bottles and trying not to consider trying to take her home with him. “What’s your poison?”
She wasn’t Bo, but she looked like her, and unless she needed him to knock her up it would be the closest thing to having her. Not that he made that calculation, or anything.
Logan was too old for crushes.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you,” she responded with a little smile. And, well, Freya could take a compliment. She just wasn’t going to blow her own horn about anything about herself. Unless it was her skills as a warrior or a magic user.
“Double scotch, please.” And she was incessantly polite. Scotch wasn’t exactly her drink of choice, but she needed some hard liquor. Because drinking always made sorrow go away, right? Right.
“Yeah, it would be one,” Logan agreed. He grinned at her as he pulled down one of the scotch bottles and fulfilled her order. Sliding the glass over to her, he leaned back on bar, regarding her with the kind of look that meant he was open to listening if she wanted to speak. Like he could tell something had her goat.
Taking her drink, she took a sip, letting the scotch burn its way down her throat and savoring the feel of it for a few moments. Freya looked at him, more than recognizing that look. “Is this where you wait for me to share whatever life problem I’m having on the ever patient and always listening bartender? Sorry to say, I don’t share my problems easily.” Or at all, really, but this man didn’t need to know that. Freya was terrible about talking about things she should talk about. Keeping everything to herself wasn’t healthy, but she didn’t like sharing intimate details of her life. Especially when it came to strangers.
He shrugged a shoulder, smiling at her. “Consider the offer open then. I been around long enough that maybe I can have some advice. Or maybe it just ain’t hurtin’ to talk.”
God knew he needed to talk more. Not that he actually would, despite the kaleidoscope of bullshit that comprised his life and the people he cared about. But he could admit that,at least. “But I get it. I ain’t the sharin’ type either.”
“Thanks.” Freya would keep that in mind, though she wouldn’t make use of it anytime soon. Unless she got enough alcohol in her to loosen her lips. “Some things are better off not being shared.” And there were few things as personal as grief.
“So, how long have you been in Orange County?” She wasn’t assuming he was a Dreamer. On the contrary, she was making conversation. Perhaps she could get her mind off of her son for a while.
“Over ten years. Used to drift around a lot before that. Been all over the world. Lived in Japan awhile, a dozen other countries.” Logan shrugged, not willing to go into detail more than that. “Settled in here. Run a couple other businesses; got a motorcycle repair shop, an’ a center for at risk kids. You been around long?”
Traveling the world was certainly nothing to sneeze at. In fact, it tended to help educate a person on various cultures. Already, Freya liked him for being open to experiencing other countries like that. “Ah, so you own this bar,” she stated, noting that he’d said a couple other businesses, which implied this was his business. “Just a couple months, so not overly long.” She sipped at her drink, relishing the taste.
“Named it for a friend.” Logan glanced around it, wondering if he needed to make things a little more devilish like. Or maybe impish was the right word,since Kurt was definitely not the devil.
“How you find the county so far, darlin’? Newcomers don’t always last that long.”
“Sounds like you have interesting friends,” she commented with some bemusement. Freya wasn’t going to assume that the friend’s name was actually Nightcrawler, that it was either some sort of nickname or maybe just a description of the friend or something.
“It’s...something I hadn’t expected. I can’t quite say if I like it, but I don’t quite hate it either?” She left it vague in the event he wasn’t a Dreamer. Though it also worked since Freya didn’t tend to spend a lot of time in big cities.
“Would you believe me if I told you he was blue and fuzzy?” Logan asked, framing it like a joke in case she wasn’t actually a dreamer. “Somethin’ about this county though. Sometimes feels like it’s out to get you.”
“You know, I would. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing ever.” Freya had seen a lot of odd things in her dreams. Blue and fuzzy could be used to describe some of the dwarves. Well, mostly blue. Some of them just tended to have a lot of facial hair that could be worthy of the fuzzy title. “Though I can definitely say that’s true.” After having been around Kol and his daughter for those few days? This place had seemingly been out to get her at that time.
“Huh.” Logan gave her another look, then slid another glass across the table towards her. “Have this one on the house, for not battin’ an eyelash at blue and fuzzy.”
One of these days he’d put up one of the pictures of Kurt the dreams had supplied, but that was maybe a little on the weird side. “Wish I could say that everyone gets a fair shake here.”
A drink on the house? Freya wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you.” She kept the drink close, but she hadn’t yet finished her first one. Freya didn’t want to just down the drinks at this point. “From what I’ve seen, people tend to get varying degrees of bad with some good sprinkled around.”
She hadn’t yet decided on her own dreams and the effects of them that carried over to this world. Freya enjoyed her magic, and she liked her wings. The tattoos were still something she was getting used to. But the fact that she couldn’t return to her home of Vanaheim because she was viewed as a traitor to her people hung heavy on her.
Logan figured if all the bad he got made things so much better for someone else, then he could live with that. “Too much bad, ain’t enough good. But there’s still some good out there. Don’t know if it makes up for it but that kinda depends on who you ask.”
Freya polished off her first drink, sliding the empty glass towards Logan before she took the new drink in hand. “I suppose that is much like life in general. Good and bad things happen, it’s just a matter of how you view things to determine if you feel one outweighs the other.” It sounded like Freya was speaking from personal experience, and that she hadn’t yet decided if the good in her life outweighed the bad.
He moved the drink to a tub to clean later, ignoring the need to get a drink of his own. While most bartenders relied on the water trick, Logan could actually drink beer, but not everyone realized it did nothing to him. Best to maintain appearances, most of the time.
“Somethin’ tells me the jury is still out on that one for you.”
“You are correct. I don’t mind the tattoos,” she said, indicating her arms, or what could be seen of them. “There’s a couple other things I don’t mind. The rest...I haven’t decided yet.” Freya said. The things she didn’t mind tended to be the perks of being a Vanir goddess. The things she minded reminded her of her dead son and failed marriage.
Logan shrugged a shoulder, the popped a claw on his left hand to open up a bottle. “Some things are more useful than others, I think, it’s all in how you approach it.”
He’d just been so casual about it, which was a far cry from how it had felt at first. But living with it for 7 years and for fifty could do that to a person.
That claw caught Freya a little by surprise, though she didn’t get up and run off. “I can see that.” She glanced around her momentarily just to ensure no one else was directly around her. She stretched her currently-invisible wings and gave them a slight little flap, enough that the sound of feathers against wind could be heard. Most people would perhaps think a bird had accidentally flown in here. “Though not everything is as it seems either.”
Both of Logan’s eyebrows raised. He hadn’t smelled that. Usually he could sniff out something like that, though now that he thought about it there did seem something strange about Freya’s scent. Something not quite human. “Well that’s a neat trick. Reminds me of another friend.”
“You could say it’s magic,” Freya responded with a little smirk before she took a sip of her drink. And it was magic, designed to conceal her wings. She hadn’t thought about using it to disguise her tattoos, but those were easier to pass off as normal even though Freya was fairly certain the tattoos almost glowed when she used her magic. It was hard to tell.
“The invisible part, that is.” She corrected, in the event Logan mistook her statement for her wings being made of magic when they definitely weren’t. And she certainly wasn’t human, not anymore. There was something different about him as well, but she could tell he wasn’t a god. But he was something a little more than human.
“Magic eh?” Logan didn’t seem surprised, or at all bothered by it. And there was no need for him, both dream and awake he’d had plenty of experience with magic and magical beings. Even one of his lovers had possessed the ability to bring the dead to the other side.
Magic was just a fact.
“Bet they’re gorgeous, but most folks would lose their minds.”
“I think they are. Though if you want to see them, I’d happy to take the spell off in a more private place.” After all, the chance of everyone currently in the bar being a Dreamer was very low. “But you are correct. That’s why I put the spell on them so people don’t see them.” She was becoming more aware of her surroundings so she could try and avoid anyone colliding with her wings as much as possible.
Logan grinned at her, but didn’t know her well enough to joke about private places. “I wouldn’t mind that. My friend… the one this is named after, used to wear a piece of tech to make himself look more like a base-line human. Ain’t ever known him here but…”
Kurt meant a lot to him. Enough to name his son after him.
“It seems that there are more than a few here who need such a disguise. Though at least I’m not as tall as I dream I am. Otherwise I’d need to use magic for that as well.” Freya was a giant as it was, especially for a woman. But in her dreams, she was at least two feet taller than she currently was. Perhaps taller.
“Know some folks that use magic charms and glamours, others use tech. There are a fair few of us who’s mutations or changes are visible an’ not just under the skin like with me.” He’d seen the subtle, to straight up alien biology. It could run the whole spectrum.
“It seems that the entire spectrum seems to be more or less represented.” Of course, there were undoubtedly things that weren’t represented here in Orange County, such as centaurs or something of the sort. But Freya had the woman with wings on her back thing covered.
“Damn near everything,” Logan agreed. He leaned on the bar, giving Freya a considering look. “Don’t mind my askin’, what do you dream about?”
Maybe she was a mutant, one he hadn’t met before. They were so few now in his dreams and he didn’t mind the idea of there being a few more in the OC, too.
“I dream about gods, specifically the Norse gods. I’m Freya,” she stated, though it also worked as an introduction since she hadn’t told him her name yet and held her hand out in greeting. “You don’t have to pay respects or tributes or anything of the sort. I’m not full of myself like some of the other gods can be.” And, well, she had many dominions that she was a goddess of, but she took her duties seriously as opposed to simply getting a big head, as it were.
“Huh.” Again, Logan didn’t really bat an eye -- he had experience with Gods, and the Norse ones too. Many of the X-men had fought with or alongside Asgard.
And he knew Thor. He took her hand. “I’m Logan. I dream about mutants, superheros, aliens, and gods. Like a fuckin’ comic book.”
Orange County certainly had a way of desensitising people to things of all sorts. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Logan. Though it sounds like you’ve got quite the dreams there.” Not that Freya’s weren’t exciting with nine realms full of various races that were in some sort of constant conflict with others, but still.
“Overly exciting.” Logan finally poured himself a beer from the tap, then jerked his head towards the back. “Private place out there, if you wanna show me your wings.”
“Lead the way,” she said as she picked up her drink and slid off her stool. Freya waited for him to lead the way, then followed along. It was only then that she realized just how...vertically challenged he was. If she had to guess, he was probably a foot shorter than her, which somewhat amused her.
Short and yet without the napoleon complex, most days. Once in awhile someone might get to him, but most of the time he was confident enough in his abilities and in himself in general that he often seemed bigger than he was.
Leading the way into the back, Logan led her into a large storage room filled with barrels. Plenty of room for wings (and maybe other things with the right person) and at worse maybe Bo might walk in.
Confidence in that respect was a good thing. It seemed too many lacked self-confidence and being comfortable in their own skin, so it was nice to see someone else who was confident with themselves. Once in the storage room, Freya glanced around, a bit out of habit that she’d been doing since waking up with the wings.
She then spoke a word, or possibly a short phrase in a tongue that seemed to be Old Norse, or something akin to it and the wings on her back became visible as though someone had lifted a veil off of them. They were large and strong, and the feathers were perhaps an unexpected color. They seemed to be almost a gold-ish bronze, perhaps a bit plain for the Queen of the Valkyries, but it fit Freya’s aesthetic and her coloring. Brown hair and almost golden brown eyes were a nice compliment for the color of her wings. She stretched them out, showing that she had quite the wingspan, though she didn’t fully outstretch them for fear that she might knocked something over.
“So, what do you think?”
Despite knowing many languages, Logan didn’t understand that word. Even his times around Thor seemed to always be in english on account of that magic allspeak or whatever bullshit Thor was calling it. Logan watched the wings appear, and whistled, saying sincerely, “They’re beautiful.”
And they really, really were.
While Freya had learned Old Norse as part of her interest in the Vikings, this particular knowledge came from her dreams. She sometimes used vocalizations to cast her spells. Other times, she merely mixed a potion or traced a rune. But a spell like the one she used to disguise her wings required vocalization.
“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “It took a little getting used to, but I enjoy having them. I suppose I feel more like me with them, if that makes sense.”
“No, that makes complete sense. Dreams are like that, you ain’t realize somethin’ is missin’ until you’ve got it.” Though he could do without the low level pain he was constantly in due to his adamantium poisoning. “Sometimes it’s physical. Other Times it’s emotional or mental. Like a piece clickin’ into place.”
Logan simple nodded and went back to admiring the wings.
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” she said with a nod. “Or conversely, they can remind you of what you used to have.” There was a note of bitterness. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that her marriage to Odin in the dreams had similarities to her failed marriage in this life. She hadn’t been married to the king of the Norse gods here, but they had one of those hate-turned-into-love romances which ended in an extremely bitter divorce.
The way Logan was admiring her wings was actually a little flattering. She hadn’t exactly shown many people her wings here. Taking another glance around to see how much room she had, she did finally stretch her wings out to their full width. She grunted a little, the sound people tended to make upon stretching out a leg or an arm after it had been bent for far too long and was a little stiff.
“It feels good to stretch them out.”
“I understand,” Logan said, simply and honestly. That reminder of what he’d had and lost, the dreams that repeated were often the ones that hurt the most or broke his heart the quickest. He’d rather be nuked, or shot, or exploded by C4.
Logan’s eyes flicked across the feathers. “Can I touch ‘em?”
He figured it would be polite to ask first.
Freya didn’t lament the love she’d once had for her husband here. All of the bitterness during the divorce had sucked that out of her. But the apparent happiness she had with Odin reminded her of the good times with her husband and her son, though mostly her son. She was a mother who didn’t have a child any longer.
At his question, she smiled and nodded. “Yes you can,” she responded, moving a wing for him to touch.
“Thanks, darlin’.” Logan reached up, running his hands along the flight feathers, and then the leading edge of her wings. It was softer than he’d expected, but then he remembered how soft Warren’s had been.
Well, before Apocalypse, anyway.
“Seems like wings to be proud of.”
The touch was gentle, and she had to say she liked the feeling of someone touching her wings like that. This was the first time someone had touched them, so it was a new sensation to her.
“They are. They served me well in my dreams. I believe I had them the last time an army invaded here, which made it easier to maneuver around.” Well, except for those undead gryphons and so forth, of course.
“Yeah. That’ll make things a little easier. Like you’re a one-woman aerial legion.” He was already thinking of the tactical benefits, and shut that line of thought down. They were too beautiful to be weapons of war, to be used to hurt people.
“What’s it feel like, flyin’?”
“That is an accurate assessment. It certainly aided me in my Dreams during the Aesir-Vanir war.” Freya had more or less fought the Aesir to a standstill single-handedly. Of course, she hadn’t fought alone, but she was powerful enough that she’d stopped the Aesir in their tracks for her part of the fighting.
“It’s...freeing and exhilarating all at once.” Freya commented with a smile. “Though I can also shapeshift into an eagle, so I can fly in two different forms.” The eagle form was good for traveling undetected and watching people without them knowing it was her, or that she was more than just a bird.
Gods warring never led to anything good. But then, war never lead to anything good to begin with in Logan’s experience. Even the ones that needed to be fought.
He grinned at her, thinking an eagle sounded almost natural for her to be. “Which one did you prefer most?”
“You know, it’s hard to say. Both have their advantages. In this world, it’s easier flying around as an eagle for obvious reasons. I suppose both is my answer because I can’t really choose between them.” Some might consider that a cop-out answer, but Freya honestly couldn’t choose between flying as an eagle or flying in her current form. She liked both of them.
Logan looked her over, then decided to volunteer a little bit of TMI. “Sometimes I run with the wolves. Or the deer. My mutation makes me … kinda feral. Enhanced senses, shit like that.”
“Is that so?” Freya asked, quirking a brow as she looked at him. She had to say, he did have a gruff kind of look to him. It was kid of sexy. “That sounds like it’s freeing in its own way.”
“Yeah, it is.” Logan did sometimes spend an unnerving amount of time just trying to touch or pet deer. It was part practice and training; sneaking up on an unsuspecting prey animal. But he also liked deer, almost as much as he liked wolves. “There’s a pack out at a place I run. Raised ‘em since they were cubs.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a nice pack there. I like wolves, though I also just enjoy wild animals in general.” Which kind of went with her territory. Freya had a vibe about her that she spent time in nature, which was true. She liked gardening, and she also liked taking a walk, or flight, around the wilderness. “You must know all the good spots for hiking and just getting away from civilization around here, then.”
That was something that Logan could definitely agree with. “Sometimes I find it easier to communicate with animals than people.”
And he would never admit how much he liked being around people. He knew he had a rep for being a loner, but he appreciated people, at least those he’d be willing to call his own pack, as it were.
“I do. An’ if I don’t I know a couple people who know the area better.”
“I can completely understand that. I sometimes find it easier to talk to plants. Though perhaps that just makes me crazy because at least animals can talk back. Plants just sit there.” Freya mused.
“Where is a good forested area around here?” She would like to know so she could know where to go if she wanted to stretch her wings as an eagle. Or simply to stretch her wings.
“About…” Logan pointed east, giving a general location in miles and coordinates, then he frowned. “Might be a little easier to just show you sometime, if you feel like goin’ out into the wilderness with a perfect stranger. I wouldn’t bury you in the woods or nothin’.”
Freya quirked her brow at him, looking him over. “Is that so? Well, it’s a good thing I have magic just in case you did try to bury me in the woods.” Now, she could’ve easily gone with the whole being like a foot taller than him, but Freya knew that size didn’t exactly matter. And she wasn’t blind, she could tell he was rather muscular. While she had her own muscle tone, magic was probably her strength currently. She didn’t carry her sword with her and her hand-to-hand combat wasn’t exactly very good.
“Won’t have to protect you from the wolves at least,” Logan replied. “Wild or otherwise.” He gave her an easy smile. “So do you want a ride out there, or are you gonna fly?”
He was mostly thinking the motorcycle, though the Blackbird was always an option. But he kind of hoped for the bike.
“That depends, what kind of ride do you have?” Freya was still figuring out how to sit comfortably in cars with wings. Motorcycles she could do, but cars tended to be awkward for her wings. Maybe she should invest in a motorcycle for herself.
“A Harley,” Logan said. “That beast parked out front.” Because of course he gave himself a designated spot for his bike, though there was room enough for a second if Kitty dropped by, or Lara on hers.
“Might be the most comfortable option for you.Though remind me to check one of my databases, might have a few things to help you with your wings. My flyin’ friend used to be able to tuck his behind his back with a harnas.”
“That’s a nice bike,” Freya commented, having seen it when she’d come into the bar. It was hard to miss, really.
“That might come in use. I haven’t figured out how to comfortably sit in cars yet. At least not for longer than it takes me to drive various places around Orange County.” Freya could stand it for the time it took to run errands and so forth, but beyond that, cars weren’t ideal for her.
“Round here, you might want to consider actually usin’ them,” Logan suggested, stepping around the bar and signaling to the other barkeep that he was heading out. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t actually look up.”
Before moving out to where people could see her, she murmured the word for her spell that concealed her wings from view. She then followed after Logan. “I’ll keep that in mind. It is a more efficient way of travel.” Going in a straight line was always faster than any other method, after all.
“Straight lines usually are.” Logan led her out to the bike, offering her one of the helmets before starting the engine. While there were a surprising number of states that didn’t have laws requiring helmets, California was not one of them. It was a nuisance for Logan, but then not everyone had an adamantium skull.
He drove them in silence out towards the hills, where the city gave way to the wilderness. There weren’t forests like one would get back east, or up further in the mountains, but it was a nice enough area, especially with the sun setting towards the sea and the only sound the breeze.
Freya followed him out to the bike, putting the helmet on before she climbed on behind him. It had been several years since she’d last ridden a motorcycle, she was going to look into the possibility of getting one for herself if it would be easier on her wings for the times she needed, or wanted, to get around town like a normal person.
She took in the sights as he drove towards the hills. It was definitely picturesque, and there was quite the beauty to be found in the world. Even cities had their own beauty, but Freya tended to prefer wilderness and the natural world than the synthetic cities.
There had been a bit of drag from her wings, but Logan was sure she could figure out a way to make it less of a drag without taking off on accident.
When he cut the engine they were left in silence. Swinging off the bike, he stuck his hands into his jacket pocket and tilted his head. “... Some deer a mile to the east. Coyotes.”
It was definitely odd, and there was a little drag, but Freya managed to get her wings positioned well enough that she wouldn’t accidentally take flight and get yanked off the bike by the wind force. That would be rather embarrassing, to say the least.
Once they arrived, she took the helmet off and got off the bike, taking the spell off of her wings in the process. She stretched them out, giving them a test flap to ensure no feathers were damaged on the ride here. “You can sense them that far away? Or is that a more educated guess because deer can be found literally everywhere these days?” She teased.
“We’re downwind.” Logan tapped his nose. “Feral senses, remember? I can sniff out jus’ about anythin’. For better or for worse.”
Worse most of the time, but it made him better than a blood hound most days. Logan pointed in another direction. “Fly far enough that way an’ you’ll find my outreach center. Wolf pack lives near there, an’ plenty of other animals at the ranch besides.”
“Feral senses certainly do you some good there.” While he could identify various people and animals through them, it could also let him avoid the more dangerous wild animals if he wanted. A very useful ability to have there.
“It certainly sounds like you keep yourself busy and give back to those who need it.” Freya could tell that he cared about people. The outreach center just said it all. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have such a place.
He’d tracked a number of friends and enemies over the years. It made for good rescues, too. “Someone has to. An’ I made a promise once, when I signed on to help that place before I took it over. To keep it goin’, to keep helpin’ those kids. They’re either so fuckin’ close to endin’ up in the prison system, or on the street, or dead. They just need a positive outlet.”
Logan shrugged. “It’s also a good cover for helpin’ Dreamers control their powers, too. Kind of modeled on my dreams. A school for those gifted with powers, to be safe, an’ learn, an’ figure themselves out. So it’s kind of a two-fer.”
That right there told Freya that Logan had a soft heart, even if he didn’t want that to be known. Caring for people, especially kids in need, was evident of someone who cared and wanted to keep them safe.
“That’s definitely good of you. It is good to keep kids on the right path and give them something constructive to do.” There was a little momentary look of sorrow that passed through her eyes before Freya shook it off. Normally, she’d probably have offered to volunteer at a place like Logan’s, but kids were difficult to be around. “And I’m sure there are plenty of people around here that could use a safe place to adjust to their abilities. I made use of the place for those who have magic to get a handle on my magic.”
“That’s a good place too,” Logan agreed. “But yeah, I do what I can.” Some of it was guilt over what he’d lost, but most of it was a genuine caring.
Part of him would have liked for a few of his dream friends and frienemies to be around. Even Scott.
“Doing what we can is all that we can ever do.” Freya well knew that, though sometimes it was hard to remember it when things went to shit. She gave her wings another flap before she looked at Logan.
“So, shall we see if you can run faster than I can fly?” She challenged him with a gleam in her eye.
Logan shrugged off his jacket, eyeing Freya with an expression that clearly said ‘challenge accepted.’ “Just let me take my boots off, give you a chance to flex your wings an’ muscles.”
Freya liked seeing the challenge accepted look. “Alright, let’s see how this goes.” She said with a smirk as she got herself ready to fly while Logan got his boots off. It was thrilling to have someone to race. While she liked flying for the sake of flying, she did like having times when she could race someone.