Ceceyalla followed Hank to the hangar. She’d never been to the sword base, but she imagined were little places that the Jet couldn’t get to quickly. “That’s good, then.” She spoke in response to the base not being too far off. “I think, yes, we ought to. At least let Scott, and Ororo knew so they’re aware. And He,” She meant Scott of course. “Can inform the others.”
To be honest, sometimes Cece felt ridiculous in the Xmen uniforms, outfits. Oh, she knew that the fabric was specifically designed upon the mutant wearing it, to work with the individual’s abilities. And that it was a symbol for outsiders to know who was… assisting, in whatever situation the Xmen gathered to. But, still.
At his question, a soft sigh escaped, “It’s the only real home I have ever had.” Staring off a moment. “It’s the only place I have ever felt truly safe, protected, and loved.” Peace had always been hard for Ceceylla, especially given her mutations, having access to all the dark things of the world. Those that have passed on, and those caught.. Ghosts.. Spirits.. had always flocked to the woman, for as long as she could remember.