_kingofthedead_ (_kingofthedead_) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-08-25 23:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | ororo munroe (storm), t'challa (black panther) |
Who: T'Challa and Ororo
When: July
Where: University of California Irvine
What: Chance meeting!
Rating/Warnings: Low
Status: Complete.
T'Challa had rather hoped that he wouldn’t be showing up at UCI so soon after classes had ended for the quarter. But a fellow professor had asked if he’d like to drop by for lunch and as they were good friends he found it hard to say no. Besides, it wasn’t like he had any sort of packed schedule for the summer.
He was walking through the nearly empty parking lot towards the campus, enjoying the midday sunshine. The tall African had always tended to dress sharply, even in casual clothes, and even on summer break it was no different. Sporting a sky blue cotton polo shirt and khakis, he made his way to the entrance when someone started exiting. He stepped aside and pulled the door open politely.
Being hired on as the latest professor came with its fair share of red tape. She had been on her second adventure to administration to finalize the paperwork, cross all the t’s and dot all the i’s, and so and so forth. The picture of patience through it all, Ororo managed to finish the last of what was needed and decided to head home to get a late lunch.
Distracted by checking her watch, she paused in a semi-startled fashion at the door being opened. Smiling at the polite man before her, a face she failed to recognize, Ororo took a step over the threshold.
“Thank you,” she said appreciatively. “I might have walked right through it if not for your intervention.”
"You're welcome," he smiled at her. She was strikingly beautiful, and as she spoke he realized the timbre of her voice sounded familiar. It took only a moment more for T'Challa to realize who was standing before him.
"...Ororo?" he ventured a guess, her name slipping from his lips before he could stop himself. T'Challa stood there blinking, stupefied. His heart started to race along with his mind. Could it be? Could his White Lioness, the one they called Wind Rider and Storm, be standing before him? She didn't have her trademark mane of white hair and her eyes weren't blue yet T'Challa felt somewhere deep inside he was right.
Surprised at the recognition, Ororo made no move to pass the threshold. Instead, she stared at him a moment as she mentally attempted to rationalize how he might already know her. Did he keep abreast of the new hires on campus? Perhaps he worked in administration or some other such thing. She squinted at him a moment before offering a very uncertain smile.
“Yes, that is my name,” she said evenly. “Have we… met?” That was also a possibility, though Ororo liked to believe she had a very good memory for names and faces. His gave her a strange feeling, but nothing concrete.
Oops. T'Challa realized he had to cover for his slip up fast. It didn't feel right lying off the bat to the woman he'd fallen for in - and now from - his dreams. He shifted to standing in front of the door, keeping a heel against the bottom edge so it wouldn't close on Ororo.
"No we have not met," here, he finished mentally, as if that would assuage his guilt of lying. "My name is T'Challa Okonkwo, I work here. I'm a professor of African Studies. Word travels fast of new professors." He smiled again, holding out a hand, cool and reserved on the outside, but inwardly he was dancing about frantically with excitement. He couldn't believe she was here!
Any trace of skepticism seemed to vanish at his explanation. It made sense, she supposed. She wasn’t all too accustomed to campus life, but she was looking forward to becoming part of the fold. There was something else inexplicably off, but Ororo let it go in favor of shaking his hand graciously. He was friendly, she couldn’t ask for a better first encounter with a fellow professor.
“Then, it is good to meet you, T’Challa,” she said with a nod of her head. “I have joined on as a Botany Professor, though--I suppose you already know that.”
With a quick glance and quirk of a grin, she eyed his shoe stopping the door. “Perhaps I should step inside so that I am not blocking the door, do you think?”
The feel of her elegant hand in his, even as a simple handshake, was nearly electric for him. It was the immaterial becoming real, and he had to remember to breathe in his excitement.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, and may I say welcome to UCI." He smiled broadly when she did and gestured for her to step inside. He let the door glide shut as they basked in the air conditioning.
"So, may I ask, Ororo where you are from?" he wanted to extend this moment as much as possible in case he didn't get a chance to see her until the fall.
Happy to step inside, Ororo didn’t mind at all meeting a new face. It was always good to get acquainted with those who would soon be her esteemed colleagues. Encountering one by chance that seemed so friendly gave her a sense of immediate belonging, a marvelous thing, indeed, venturing into uncharted territory.
“You are kind,” she said with genuine appreciation. Moving somewhere brand new may not have been her worst decision after all.
“Ask whatever you wish,” Ororo responded, not one to be easily thrown off by friendly forays into the getting to know someone game. She had her secrets, but so did everyone else on the planet. “I am from New York originally, though I spent a great deal of time in Africa. And you?”
Interesting. So far her life here followed a similar history. Born an American, then living in Africa. Her accent seemed pretty much the same as in the dreams; not quite American, not quite African - somewhere in between. T’Challa’s own accent gave him away every time. “I am from Africa. The Republic of Congo.” That statement in itself carried enough weight for anyone who knew their news. For someone like Ororo who also spent time in Africa, he knew it meant even more. “I came to the U.S. when I was twelve, adopted by an American Family. I spent the rest of my youth in the Midwest, Illinois. Where in Africa did you live?”
A knowing look crossed her features, though showed no judgment. It was that of understanding, the immediate kind. Somehow their meeting became that much more profound to her. While Ororo had no idea of their dreamed history, she began to pick up on the hints of an already-existing connection between them. Rather than shy away from it, she accepted it and carried on.
“Cairo, initially,” she began. “I spent a great deal of time in Kenya, however. It feels like home at times when one cannot be found stateside. Apart from that, much of my time spent growing up was done so in Manhattan. This upbringing--it creates a curious sense of duality, does it not?”
Oh if she only knew. The irony of the duality of the dreams was even more of a curious sense of being than any dual citizenship. He smiled and nodded. "It truly does. To have two homes, your heart in both places, is both a privileged existence and a frustrating one. I have only been back to the Congo once, while doing my PHD, and I cannot say I would go back again any time soon. There is too much suffering there, and not enough hands to help those who need it. It is why I constantly try to get people here, in positions of power and influence, so see the suffering of my people and to act." He almost said he wished he could rule over the Congo as he did Wakanda, so that perhaps then peace and progress could finally be had. But the Congo was not Wakanda, and he was no king here.
Listening to him speak of his homeland made her nostalgic for traveling throughout Africa. She had spent a great deal of time seeing its best and worst. Those memories would never leave her, and it wasn’t often she ran into a kindred spirit who understood that feeling. His words brought her a smile.
“Altruistic efforts are in rare supply,” she remarked with an understanding kindness in her voice. She did not expect every man to want to make some philanthropic difference in the world, but those who did would remain high on her list. “That is good of you, T’Challa. We should all follow in your footsteps.”
Realizing she’d kept him awhile, she glanced around uncertainly. “I am sorry, I hope I am not causing you to be late to an engagement.”
"It is indeed," T'Challa replied, doing his best to keep any bitterness or frustration out of his voice. Her compliment caught him off guard, and he felt his face flush a little. It was rare to find anyone who understood his fight, let alone someone who would say something like that. "Ah, thank you Ororo. I am only doing what I must."
Panic gripped him then, not wanting this chance meeting to end. He wished suddenly to cancel on his friend, but knew such rudeness would be unbecoming. "No need to apologize. I'm meeting a friend for lunch. He'll understand." But he realized he could be keeping her as well. So they settled for exchanging information, T’Challa offering to answer any questions Ororo might have about the University and pointed out Valar was also a great resource for meeting people in the area and those tied to the school. Reluctantly he said goodbye, and headed off to his lunch, his head practically in the clouds.