Thread: Friends talk. Characters: Rogue and John Allderdyce NPCs: -- Timeline: Tuesday, September 10, 2013 - evening [backdated!] Location: Xavier School - Boathouse Description: Rogue and John clear the air. Rating: PG
John had texted Rogue saying that he wanted to talk and she could only imagine what it was about. Though what with everything going on lately though, and what they had talked about previously if she were to take a stab in the dark, she probably could land it in the ball park. Not to mix metaphors or anything but baseball probably would be more exciting if they allowed switchblades on the field. But that was neither here nor there as she waited, and mused, for her best friend to turn up at the boathouse at the time specified.
She was glad he had texted, to be honest. Rogue felt disconnected from everyone and everything and despite her best efforts to bring everyone together, everything always felt flat. Maybe there was some half-truths in what she had told Scott. Maybe she was too polarizing. Maybe she just wasn't that good of a friend. And it made her sad because she didn't know what more she could be doing, just that she wanted to be doing so much more than she was.
Rogue was sitting on the roof of the boathouse waiting. It was kind of becoming "her spot", but she liked it there. Especially at night. Especially when the moon was out and reflecting over the water of Breakstone Lake. It made her think about things. About certain people. How she couldn't leave well enough alone, yet at the same time didn't want to leave well enough alone and how that came in direct conflict with what she wanted. But her thoughts, like her feelings, were cyclical and it was a vicious loop that she just couldn't seem to tear herself out of. What was the point? Was there a point? Rogue didn't know what to do, never knew what to do, just that lately she was feeling more and more like, well, an asshole for lack of a better word and not a very good friend at the moment. And if she could sense it, she wondered about the other people she surrounded herself with, who still stuck by her side despite everything. Were they picking up on all of these things she was telegraphing?
From beneath her shirt, Rogue had plucked the playing card she had stuck there and flipped it over in her fingers. She had kept it well hidden and out of sight, but always on her person, even when wasn't carrying anything at all. It was well worn, nearly ragged, but it was still probably the most precious thing that she owned. And it reminded of her better times, as well as other things, of course, and served as a reminder to her of what was important.
God, where was John? Rogue was going to start getting all whingy and sentimental if he didn't show up soon, though that was no guarantee she wouldn't anyways. She hoped he had something good to tell her. Or at least something that'd distract her from all of these tremendous feelings that were starting to feel just a bit too real. The MRA. The MDC. The people in her life. Their home getting torn apart. Rogue heaved a sigh and tucked the card back to into its hiding place and laid back on against the slope of the roof, waiting quietly for her friend to show.