After The Fall

Pietro slammed his bedroom door behind him and collapsed in the wreckage of his room. There wasn't much still in one piece, other than the very few of Wanda's possessions that Billy had passed on to him when he'd arrived. Those were carefully arranged on a small table near the window, an island in a sea of destruction. Even his bed was mostly destroyed, the frame splintered and the box spring upended against a wall, rumpled sheets strewn across the mattress. He flopped atop them and lay back, staring blankly up at the ceiling as the bruising on his face and hands and ribs pulsed. The fact he had a mark on him was an indication of how far gone he was, there wasn't a flatscan who could lay a hand on him unless he let them. But he needed the pain, needed something to distract him from the other pain, from wondering how long it was going to be before he was alone again.

Pietro was sprawled inelegantly against the pillows propped at the head of Wanda's bed, still in a way he only ever was with her, and pretending to watch the snow coming down outside the window in large flakes, but mostly watching her. It was rare enough lately to have time like this, now that she was so busy with school, not to mention the fact that, unlike him, she actually had friends (a brother) and a social circle, so he was absolutely taking advantage of it.

"Are you sick of all the flatscans hovering yet?" She had more patience than he could even comprehend with all the shit.

Pietro fumed (remarkably) silently as he was processed out, and just as remarkably restrained the urge to simply bolt once he hit the street. He glared pointedly at Billy, though.

"Thanks, asshole," he finally muttered to the other boy, spreading the glare around to Shard and the fuzzy blue jack ass as they headed for a car parked on the curb.

It would be a night to remember.

Upon arrival, guests passed through doors flanked by the great king's most loyal protectors - the Sentinel Guard. Ten in all had made the journey from various museums all over the world to be present for the opening. Standing tall, their lights cast across the red carpet in greeting. Within the legendary opera house the floors and exhibition windows were likewise filled with artifacts on loan from both museums and private collectors. An entire section was exclusively devoted to the salvaged Magdalena with framed photographs and the world premiere of reconstructed footage shown upon ornate screens. Guests were encouraged to take their time to view and discuss the vast array of priceless treasures of mutant history before making their way into the theater.

The opera itself was a three hour long production. With a novel two intermissions for audience comfort, though they were shorter than average so as to keep the event on schedule.

After, guests were welcome to enjoy the pleasures of a celebratory after party. With members of the cast making their entry a whole half hour after the audience. Food and drink were abundant, and entertainment plentiful. With a full orchestra to provide ambiance and music for dancing. Plenty of specialists and historians were available to engage in conversation, as well as several religious leaders. For those who cared for a second, longer look, the exhibit was also available for re-entry.

Throughout the night, cameras have never been far removed. With every aspect of the event captured for posterity and broadcast globally for all to enjoy.

It was a magical evening indeed.

Until an hour into the after party, the Sentinel guard finished rebooting and overrode their reprogramming, returning to their prior objective. Very few were safe when they suddenly attacked, targeting the mutant gene to the carrier level. Technicians, engineers and security rushed to protect the panicked masses, but hadn't a clue what had occurred nor why the machines were firing into the crowd. Ultimately, with their limited knowledge and misinterpretations, even with quick action, they never stood a chance.

Sentinels provided a single service, lost to time. Unbeknownst to the general populace, there was only one way to stop their rampage. And it would cost them everything.


[OOC: You're welcome to thread at any time in the evening, however, please time stamp your posts so events can be tracked. Also, please remember that we are posting this today to allow for an entire week's worth of play so the event won't feel rushed. However, this event is occurring Friday, the 6th. So personal posts and other threads that will occur within this week should not be cross referenced with this event, unless they occur during the weekend.

Have fun, be creative, out the hell out of your characters! Remember, there'll be no turning back. The game will be forever altered, so get your last kicks in while you can. Everything's going to go topsy turvy as of Saturday, July 7th.]

ETA: Link to Sentinel specifications for your combat pleasure!

Pietro didn't bother answering her last text, just shoved his phone into his pocket and blurred into motion, his door slamming shut behind him barely a second before he was bouncing hers off the wall of her room as he opened it.

"What the fuck do you mean? What kind of memories?" he demanded before he'd even completely stopped moving. "Who the fuck hurt you?"

Wanda was having one of those days.

Her classes had been endless, rehearsal brutal, and her new tattoo was itching like nothing she'd ever felt. Not being able to scratch it was a new form of torture. All she wanted was to throw on some pajamas and veg out. After she lotioned. Definitely.

She was in such a rush to get out of her clothes that she teleported up to her floor, thankfully not into a space someone was already occupying. But unfortunately right into someone. More specifically, someone's arms.

Her hands caught at elbows, an apology on her lips.

The venue was a little bit unusual - two generally vacant warehouses in Brooklyn had been outfitted with two stages each, themed in both "mutant" style and in a style that paid tribute to Friday the 13th and its associated lore. There was a constant stream of music; while one stage was in use, a band was setting up on the other stage in that warehouse, with crowds already gathering in anticipation of their set, and volunteers worked their way through the crowd, handing out ballots for the competition.

At the back of the warehouses, vendors were set up selling food and drinks, as well as merchandise. Local music venues and stores also had booths set up, and a couple local radio stations were on site raffling off prizes and broadcasting live from the event.

The bands that played that evening had all played earlier in the day as well, in the preliminary round. After making it past that round of voting, they were granted a half hour set in the evening, after which they would (hopefully) progress to a 45 minute semi-final set and ultimately the one hour slot at the final competition. Some bands were already feeling burnt-out from the long day, but others were just as energetic as they had been earlier. A special backstage lounge area was set up in what used to be the offices of the warehouses for the bands to relax before or after their sets, but most bands spent their time offstage watching the competition.

Though none of them bought tickets to the event and thus were forced to remain outside, the cult of Magnus did have representatives on hand to try to curb the blasphemy they saw present in many of the bands' repertoires. Many festival attendees were approached as they entered the grounds, and if you didn't have a pamphlet shoved into your hands, you were lucky.

rEvolution's time slot was 9:30, and as the time approached, the crowd at their stage started to fill out. There were some familiar faces - people who had been at shows they'd played elsewhere, but there were also a lot of people who hadn't seen them perform before. Between them and the people they'd invited from the mansion, the crowd turnout for their set was looking decent.

The entire lake had been frozen over and dusted lightly with snow. Around it's edges were snowbanks that stretched several feet to buffer the lake's occupants in case of fall. Or to simply be a nice place to sit and enjoy the happenings.

Across portions of the lake lay snowdrifts and structures to serve as cover during the free for all snowball fight that had broken out.

While a chilly evening, the lake mysterious held just the right temperature to promote enjoyment while keeping it structurally sound. Every so often more snow would appear or be shifted along courtesy of a more observant Iceman, keeping watch from the shore.

Random snowballs rained down every so often, courtesy of a rather drunk one.

It felt odd. Her first major holiday season away from home. She'd always known, of course, that it would happen one day. But, she'd always pictured it somewhat differently. For starters, she'd be in the same reality as the rest of her family. Able to visit and still come together to celebrate. She'd never imagined she'd be so very far from home during what was her family's warmest, busiest season.

It felt odd to have nothing to do. Back home all the women in her family would come together to begin planning the dinner. There would be days worth of cooking and baking and talking and enjoying one another's company. Wanda enjoyed listening to stories told by her grandmothers while they showed her - every year - the proper way to make things. Lorna rarely had the patience for the repetitiveness of it all but she always managed to hang in there.

Wanda ran her hand across the countertop. She'd managed to keep busy enough to not be quite so devastated about her missing family. The band had adopted her into their own and they were wonderful to her. Pietro often took time from his day to spend with her, and while they hadn't discussed it since that night, she felt relieved each time he smiled as always. Her burden lightened by his understanding and acceptance of her regardless.

It hadn't been all bad at all, being abducted. But there were still days she wished she could be home. Days when she missed her family terribly. Sometimes they came out of the blue. But this particular holiday pang was lingering, becoming heavier each day. Like the empty feeling she'd always had in her heart. Only less somehow. It was all very confusing.

While Jay was taking what Jimmy figured was a much-needed break, Jimmy had taken it upon himself to go to the rec room and find some more games. He'd played through pretty much everything he had in his room already.

The walk down to the rec room was a bit more than he'd considered and he had to sit down for a moment when he got there before checking the game cabinet. There were a bunch of new ones. Things he hadn't had a chance to touch yet. But he wouldn't be able to take them all, so he took them out to look them over. And besides, it gave him a little more time to rest before taking the walk back to his room.

Barely a week back 'home' and he was ready to put his fist right through Alvers' stupid face. One more comment, one more leer at Wanda, and the fucker was a dead man. And Toad. Jesus. Pietro really hadn't missed smelling the slimy little freak. And that wasn't even touching having to deal with Mystique and his fucking father. He blurred into motion the second he slammed their bedroom door behind him. He needed to fucking run, he didn't, however, need to run into a fucking jungle, and the second his feet hit loam instead of the landing at the bottom of the stairs he lurched to a halt, heels digging trenches in the ground.

"WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK!?!?" he yelled, spinning in place. "We're supposed to be fucking DONE with this place!"

She'd picked her room as soon as she could, but the whole thing with picking furniture and curtains and bedspreads and all that was kind of dizzying. She'd printed herself out a sort of catalog and taken it to the kitchen to sit down with over her lunch.

"Just so long as it ain't pink," she muttered to herself, balling up a page full of pink and yellow bedclothes.

Josh sighed, looking over the options spread across the table. He was now playing the 'What can I get Kevin to eat?' game, and given it wasn't for an easy, willing partner - his own - he was at a bit of a disadvantage. While things had gotten better, Kevin himself was still being stubbornly difficult. It depended on the time of day, the day itself, what he'd been talking about, who he'd seen, if there'd been touching and half a million other tiny things that drove Josh absolutely nuts. He was more unpredictable than his apocalyptic counterpart and twice as emotional, and he seemed to be toeing the line of 'that Josh' and 'guy who looks like the bastard', and who on occasion was called similarly.

Tapping his thigh, he reached out gently with the awareness. It wasn't like his own Kevin; he couldn't read this one the way he needed to. Only his Josh could. However, his mood swings were so extended at the moment Josh could just sort of make them out by how much or how little he was moving. Based on that he could try and plan an appropriate meal - and hopefully limit the stress involved as much as possible.

Wanda stood in the gardens, looking out at the city. Despite the fact that she'd been away from her city for nearly a week, seeing it in such a state was not getting any easier. She could pick out landmarks and familiar facades, but they were all eroded shells of what they had been. Though she reminded herself repeatedly that it wasn't her home and that what had happened in that world was very unlikely to happen in her world, it was still a reminder of things that could happen.

Picking up her glass, she took another sip of her water and looked back down at the book she'd been reading. It was a history of the world that they were in, and even though it didn't exactly mirror that of her world, it was still both educational and interesting. Even if it was a little bit dry.

Rogue walked toward the palace, hands in her pockets as she went over the list of reasons why she couldn't join Kurt in finding things to kill in her head. They were very good reasons, but it was still frustrating. She hadn't been nearly as shaken up about the deaths as he was. Death happened. Often. He'd known them better than she did and that really made a world of difference. Not to say that she wasn't sad, but she wasn't sad enough for it to really show. Rogue definitely didn't like the idea of anyone dying, but she'd seen enough of it that she more or less was able to completely brush it off, unless it was someone she was close to.

She felt a little bit like an asshole, not really showing all that much emotion at the service, but she was starting to get used to being that asshole anyway. Running a hand through her hair, she continued up the path, grateful that at least the funerals, or whatever you wanted to call them, were over. That was a step in the right direction, as far as the whole healing process went.

She and the eldest Kurt had talked it over and come to an agreement about Pietro. Something needed to be done; the boy couldn't be allowed to run off at the mouth the way that he did. Not while everybody had to live together. There were a lot of things he needed to learn, not that Pietro would ever admit to it.

So when she saw that Pietro was back to normal, she took it on herself to take the first shift with him. Which meant calling him out to spar. Hopefully, it would be a good start.

She stood at parade rest outside the city, away from either coast. It probably wouldn't be seeable from the ships, but there was no reason to tempt fate.

Wanda'd had to go to the bathroom and he knew he was supposed to stay in their room but he'd been looking out the window and seen birds. Bright red and green ones. Lots and lots and lots of them, maybe even more than twenty! And they were out on the lawn and he hadn't thought, just run out to see them...only to watch them all take to the air and fly away almost as soon as he stopped nearby. And he could have caught one, he knew, but the one time he'd done that he'd accidentally hurt the little bird and the thought still made his eyes start to get all stingy and watery so he didn't think about it, just zipped over to a garden bed full of flowers that were every bit as colorful as the birds had been and started plucking them.

The pretty lady with the same name as his sister was nice and all, but she was SLOW and Pietro was so tired of being slow. The whole world was just creepy-crawling by and he wanted to RUN, so he did. Fast as he could, down the halls and in and out of rooms, through the garden near the palace and back in again, stubby little legs a blur and squealing with the joy of speed the entire time. He didn't go far because he didn't want to get losed because that would be SCARY but he went FAST, and when he'd run just enough that he didn't feel all quivery and shaky with energy anymore he blurred to a stop near the first person he saw.

"Has you seed my sister?" he asked in lisping Rom, little face serious. "I needs her."

He'd run the entire perimeter of the island and checked the portals at least half a dozen times and he was going fucking insane. There was no place he could go that he hadn't seen hundreds of times, no place that would take him more than a few seconds to get to. Nothing to distract him from the fact that everything and everyone - except one of the many people he couldn't stand - moved so slow trying to interact with them was like watching fucking grass grow.

Even Wanda couldn't soothe him when he was this restless so he just ran, though he was finally slowing down a bit as he ripped across the upper garden for the fifth time in the last few minutes. Enough so that he was only going around two or three hundred miles an hour when the the pulse of light hit him from behind and he went from six feet tall to well under three feet between one step and the next...and then went tumbling headlong across the ground, tearing up dirt and grass and a few bushes before he came to a stop in a bleeding, sobbing heap of terrified and hurting three year old.

Kevin needed away from the castle for a bit. Not that he didn't like most of the people there, but the press of others around him just got to be a bit much at times. Which was why he was out in the city again, poking around old ruins, looking for bits of metal, mostly. Now that there was a little less work to do on the wiring, maybe it was time to start thinking about his sculptures again.