who ororo & t'challa when during the Dec 28th blizzard what T'Challa comes to Ororo’s aide during the second Blizzard where ororo's place warnings very PG! status in progress//PART 2 of 2
A gentle smile spread across his features. In fact he tried not to chuckle. Ororo had been so different as a teenager, far more vain and immature than her older, more regal self. He would have to be careful how he regaled the tale. “Of course.” The suit now dry, he sat down on the couch next to her, but not too close as to invade her personal space, even though he desperately wanted to hold her in comfort.
“Well, we met when I was in the middle of my walkabout - a journey every young Wakandan male makes before entering manhood. Especially as a prince it was important I do this as an example to my people. I came upon you when an American man was attacking you in the jungle. I had been observing you and them for a day or so after a confrontation in town, where you first exhibited your powers. He had followed you, intent on punishing you for stealing his camera. I intervened, but you passed out after panicking and causing a thunderstorm.” His expression turned a bit more serious. “You were a thief for a man you called Teacher. He had a whole group of you doing his dirty work for him. I did not like leaving you there in his care, but even he recognized a prince of Wakanda and my family lineage - and that it was not to be trifled with, so I knew for the time being you would be safe.” He paused a moment, because he didn't want to talk too much and overwhelm Ororo. “There is quite a bit more but I'm not sure how much you wish me to speak of. How are you feeling?”
“It is enough,” Ororo said gently, touching a hand to her temple. Her head was swimming in memories, struggling to parse between what she deemed real and what had to be an implanted work of fiction. Being able to control the weather, watching herself as practically a wily teenager on the run? It went far beyond baffling.
Gracious as she was in all that she did, Ororo found it difficult to maintain composure. Their story would become intertwined soon enough, but she couldn’t help but want to further the way their lives intersected in reality before that could happen. How else would she be able to differentiate between dream-induced feelings?
“Perhaps… something real, now,” she proposed reluctantly, then met him with her icy blue gaze. “That life is filled with tumult, I fear I will only continue to cause meteorological problems in the future, but you are helping; you are calming. Tell me something about your real adventures, something good.”
T’Challa hesitated. He did not have any adventures to regale her with. His own childhood here was terrible, and would do her no good. He had been studious and involved with protests and politics in college, so that was no good either. He frowned a little, struggling to come up with something.
“I once tipped a cow when I was a teenager?” he said, raising his eyebrows. It was silly, but the only thing he could think of. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
As strained as the situation was, the random excerpt gave her pause. Ultimately, Ororo began to laugh. It was loud and boisterous given how exhausted she was mentally and physically, but jubilant enough to show she was greatly humored by his unusual and unexpected anecdote. Of all the things she could have predicted T’Challa to tell her, it hadn’t been remotely in the ballpark of cow tipping.
“No,” she responded incredulously. “Did you, really?”
T’Challa was a bit surprised at her reaction at first, then pleased. Ultimately he joined her in laughing.
“Unfortunately it’s the truth. There’s not much to do out in the area of Michigan I grew up in. A lot of farms were around us.” He explained, chuckling at the memory of it. “I had made friends with a local farmer’s son, and since I was so new to the country, I had never heard of cow tipping. He uh, taught me. I only did it once, I swear.” He held his hands up in defense. “I was horrified at the poor creature going over like that at first. Then started laughing when my friend did. If it was funny in America, I went along with it. It wasn’t so funny when my friend went out to do it again and the farmer saw us. He got caught, but…” he shrugged. “Not to give in to the cliche, but I am from Africa, and we are generally fast runners.” He winked.
“It is hard to imagine,” she responded, still chuckling. He didn’t strike her as the type, but she had done some outlandish things in her youth. Ororo was a much different woman than her younger self, dramatically so. She surmised the same would be said of T’Challa, too. Time was funny like that.
“There are strange customs here, indeed,” she mused. “You have had quite a life, my friend. Tell me more?”
So far as she was concerned, listening to him would distract her from the dreams was the best way to pass the time now. Given enough time, she could settle the weather outside. Whatever it took for the sake of the residents of the OC, Ororo would do it just to ensure no one was harmed by her inability to control her own emotions in tandem with the weather.