After The Fall

True to her word, Betsy headed down to retrieve Henry from his almost never ending stint in their makeshift Medbay just as soon as her conversation with Jono was completed. It was nice to see him again, and she looked forward to picking up their lessons once he had a chance to settled himself into his new surroundings. Also true to her word, she came prepared with a small basket that held four bottles of wine and two glasses. In hindsight, four bottles might be considered overkill, but no one said that they were required to consume them all. It was best to come bearing too many gifts than to be found wanting.

Knocking on the door as she entered, she called out, "Henry, I've come to save you, darling. Please stop being useful for once and come waste time with me and my friends from the vineyard."

It didn't take any effort to find Braddock in the kitchen. He'd followed Paige down to there a couple of times. Plus Braddock's mind was bloody powerful and he could sense it unless she was shielding it. Couldn't help but be bloody glad she was here, even with the circumstances.

Leaning in the doorway, he folded his arms over his chest. *I'd say it's been awhile, but I just bloody saw you the day before last,* he told her. Braddock had been the one who'd helped Paige drag him to the infirmary after he'd blown his face off again. *But it's bloody good to see you.*

The key to staying alert was to continue training and practicing no matter what situation one found oneself in, which was precisely why Betsy was outside. The lessons that she was putting some of the younger members of their group through--she refused to label anyone as student or teacher here based on the fact that such classifications were inaccurate in their present circumstance--were good but lacked the intensity that she was used to getting out of the both the Danger Room and her sparring sessions with Logan. The only thing that had come close thus far had been the session she and Anna had indulged in not long after their arrival. The training that she was pacing herself through was slow and precise, a type of dance more than anything else, but it was wonderful exercise and something that she enjoyed.

The psychic ripples of the attack seemed to be fading, leaving only a lingering watercolour stain on the astral plane, which was good as it meant she could allow her shields to relax a little bit. The clambake had been a very good idea as it had allowed for everyone to realize some much needed stress and just focus on having a good time for a little bit. Betsy had enjoyed herself, though she had spent most of the evening sipping at the ancient alcohol and talking to the Agents Darkhölme and Henry alternatively. The rate at which they were collecting new faces was a little disconcerting, though. Betsy did not have a good theory as to why they kept gaining more people, especially if they were to believe that they were not being manipulated by someone, somewhere.

She was taking a stroll, considering just those options and how she should phrase her concerns at the next leadership meeting. The topic had been broached a few times, but she felt it was something that they should continue researching. It was possible that they would never have a clear answer, but that did not mean that they should ever stop focusing on something so important to their continued existence.

Sam had just come from visiting Caro's grave. He was waiting for Paige to decide she wanted company. The Paige he knew couldn't be pushed when it came to things like this. She'd come around in her own time. Everybody needed family.

Heaving out a sigh, he settled on the banister of the huge veranda attached to the castle. He wanted to go for a fly to clear his head and maybe start sorting out some of the strange, but he didn't risk it.

So he was just sitting there, trying to work it out in his head. Wasn't working very well.

Wicked was taking a break. And giving the ghosts one too. Not that they really needed one, she just felt bad for working them so long straight. It felt good to have them surround her, call as many as she wanted and just let them linger.

Anybody who thought her powers weren't useful had gotten a wakeup call here.

She spawled out in the grass in front of the palace, hands tucked behind her head. Closing her eyes, she could almost forget she wasn't in her Genosha. It felt so much like it.

Betsy was trying her best to be useful, though she suspected that this was the sort of labor to which her brother would be better suited than she was. Although if the mantle of Captain Britain had chosen her it wouldn't have been nearly such a hassle. To each their own, however, and the whole Captain Britain job did come with a rather large clause that was apparent in the very name of staying close to Great Britain. Betsy loved her home country dearly, but the freedom to explore and go wherever she wanted appealed even more. That was not to say that she wouldn't happily have taken the flying ability. It would have made a great deal of things easier.

Since the first day of her arrival, she had volunteered her services to the welfare of the group. She had also attempted to keep a close eye on Kevin but that had proved to be harder than she had initially deduced. She felt for the boy. She really did. There was absolutely no excuse for the way that he had been treated. His world, the way it was run, was an abomination. No on should have to live through that, especially not a child.

Pausing to take a break, Betsy settled herself into a window seat that looked fairly stable. It was metal. There was quite a bit of metal in the palace, which made sense if the pictures of Magneto sprinkled throughout where any indication of its prior owners. Had she been Magneto, she would have constructed as much of her surrounding with metal as she could also. It was a matter of future survival as much as convenience.

There was no traumatizing blurring of the two worlds, no leaping dramatically into a portal to parts unknown. Kevin just woke up on the metal floor, like he did almost every day, but he knew that this wasn't the cells when he sat up.

For one thing, they weren't half this large. They also weren't empty. That was actually the most confusing part. He'd been taken from the pens in his sleep before, but he'd never woken up alone. Kevin couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone. He would like it better if he knew why.

The room was mostly metal, which to him implied that he was supposed to be here - that the room was meant to hold him. Maybe they were going to run another battle sim with him. He hated those, but picked himself up off the ground and signaled readiness, turning in a slow circle to try and see either the other combatants or the control room. They wouldn't take him back to the cage until he finished whatever they wanted.