XP Favourite Moments
Apr. 30th, 2013 11:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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x_projectThis week is XP's 10th anniversary week, so we're doing various little appreciation/celebration things. One of the suggestions was a "Favourite Moments of XP" meme.
Got a favourite memory associated with XP, be it a log or a scene or a character or a RL incident or a plot or a joke? Share it with the rest of us!
Got a favourite memory associated with XP, be it a log or a scene or a character or a RL incident or a plot or a joke? Share it with the rest of us!
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no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 12:54 pm (UTC)http://x-logs.livejournal.com/1638299.html
Ororo was standing in the dingy tub, the rubbing alcohol mixed with blood dripping from the wound. Remy came forward to look. "You going to need dat stitched, Stormy. Doesn't look like it damaged de muscles too bad." Remy got the full kit and came back into the bathroom.
"Then I am going to need-- ah," she said, accepting the flask of whiskey he pressed into her hand for the second time. She unscrewed the cap and took a deep swig, closing her eyes and turning her back to Remy. "Go ahead," she muttered, trying to focus her thoughts on something more pleasant. Open skies, the smell of rain at dusk... being anywhere but there.
The careful stitching hurt, but not as much as she might have expected. Remy's uninjured right hand was very deft and he worked fast. He led her back out to sit on the edge of the bed as he ran the alcohol over it again and bandaged it as tightly as he dared. "It's not a pretty one, 'Ro, but it missed all of de important parts. I don't see any bad muscle damage."
"It is fine," Ororo murmured, testing her range of motion gingerly. Satisfied that the bandage would hold, at least for now, she turned back towards Remy. "How are your injuries?" she asked, feeling a bit light-headed as the whiskey began to kick in.
"Painful." He'd bandaged the bullet wound, and his hand, ignoring the shallow cuts that crisscrossed him. He hadn't taken a look at the leg yet. The blows hadn't broken the skin, so there was little the tiny medkit could offer. "Still have a little bit of mobility wit' dis hand, but... I'm slowed down." He finished grimly, taking a sip from the bottle.
"Even a slowed-down Remy is better than most," Ororo murmured, leaving off the obvious and pessimistic afterthought. But not better than Reavers. We are in such trouble. With a tremulous sigh she reached for the flask, noticing as she did so that a cut on Remy's scalp was dribbling blood down the side of his face.
"Hold still," she instructed him, and picked up one of the now-bloodied rags that he had used on her back. Dumping a bit more alcohol on it, she steadied his face with one hand and began to dab at the cut carefully.
Remy hissed as she dabbed at it. "Dat stings." He muttered, an almost ludicrous statement considering his other wounds.
Ororo snorted at this, continuing her ministrations until the wound was relatively clean and the blood was blotted from his face. "You will live," she told him, continuing to wipe the sweat and grime off his face with the cool cloth. Any moment she thought her body might stop listening to her and collapse in a heap; she only hoped she was able to shower and get into the bed before doing so.
He grinned thinly, watching her as she wiped at his face. "You know, I don't get any prettier, Stormy." He reached up to stop her hand, covering it with his. "Don't matter how much you keep wiping."
"It was more for the housekeeper's sake than yours or mine," she told him. "We are making a mess, and I do not think we can afford to leave much of a tip." Another wave of lightheadedness swept over her and she wavered just a bit, hand clasping Remy's.
Remy reached out to steady her, catching her around the waist as she wavered. Both of them were on the cusp of breakdown, the potent cocktail of adrenalin, alcohol and pain in their systems the only thing keeping them from passing out right then and there. She hadn't moved her hand, still clutching his beside his face.
For a long moment all Ororo did was look at him, struck by the overwhelming desire to feel anything other than the mixture of pain and hopeless dejection coursing through her. Then she leaned in, closing the distance between them and pressing her cracked and bloodied lips to his almost desperately, shutting her eyes against the dim light of the bedside lamp.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 12:55 pm (UTC)It had been a dangerous gambit, waiting this long to try and divert the storm, but they couldn't risk alerting those that controlled the storm to their presence until the others were well on their way into the city. Already the hurricane had dashed itself against the dozens of tiny islands that lay outside the city, and it was if this taste of destruction had only fueled its hunger. Ororo could feel the pull of it as freshwater droplets spattered against her face; her eyes had already clouded over to white as she turned and nodded at the woman beside her.
No matter the past, no matter her own feelings on the matter, or anything else, it was easy to make the winds part around them. Even the brushing of a stray lock of Ororo's hair behind her ear took no second thought, a quiet smile lifting the corner of Sofia's mouth as she hummed under her breath. "I should have hired someone to water my plants," she mentioned lowly, her voice carrying within her own mutation. "Would it be too morbid of us to play last requests? Were we able to remove ourselves from this spot."
The cessation of the winds made it that much easier for Ororo to gather her own concentration and extend it outward, feeling the wild and ragged edges of the storm as it neared them. 'Perhaps, but I think we are allowed a certain measure of gallows humor right now,' she replied as she tested the winds. She knew the magic would have unexpected consequences on whatever manipulations she might try and didn't want to overextend herself too early... there was no telling how long the storm might rage, or if the ritual could even be interrupted.
"I think I'd ask for one more sunrise," Sofia replied after a moment, still watching that errant strand with a sort of distant quality. "Is that too cliché? Maybe the ritual of putting on perfume in the morning. Or watering the garden."
"Yes, the garden," Ororo agreed in a murmur, shifting her stance until she was facing the storm squarely, arms extended towards it. "The feel of my hands in the dirt one last time." The hurricane was big, bigger than anything she had ever tried to manipulate before, and it was raging with the bokor-driven magic. The threefold plan - to try and hold off the wind and rains while simultaneously altering the pressure above and the warmth of the water below - required a great deal of attention, and she slipped into silence for so long that it was odd when she spoke again. "The chance to say a real goodbye."
"To say what went unsaid," Sofia agreed. She tossed her hair, a sharp, angry movement, that hid the small quiver of her mouth. "When we meet again. I'll have some geranium clippings for you." There was a pause, and Sofia gently rested her fingertips on Ororo's shoulder. "I've never been very good at farewells."
The opaque gaze that the weatherworker turned on her might have been eerie if there hadn't been the faint hint of a smile on her lips. "Then let us do our best to ensure this is not one. And whatever may happen, think of yourself." Ororo briefly moved to place her own hand over Sofia's, warm despite the howling winds and angry waters around them.
"Here she comes," Sofia answered, ignoring that it was not an answer at all.
Though she didn't need to, Ororo turned once more to face the storm, the funnel-shaped eyewall approaching at a rapid pace. Her concentration slipping away to encompass the whole of the storm, she gave a slight gasp to realize how large and completely wild it was. Refusing to be daunted now, she began her task, shoring up walls of wind to counteract the storm's approach, at the same time altering the rapidly-fluctuating banks of pressure and the heaving warm water below.
It was difficult work, and as Ororo threw herself into it, she found herself grateful for at least one thing. Though this may be the end, and I may not return, at least I am not alone.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 12:55 pm (UTC)"Oh dude, have you have messed with the wrong people," she snarled, keeping herself between Rumlow and Ororo.
The weatherworker ducked low, her arms spread as the lightning built and built; the only thing that stopped her from letting it arc across the room was the figure in the chair - bent, still, slumped. "Put down your guns and you may yet live," she commanded over the sound of gunfire.
Rumlow didn't waste his words arguing. Two mutants, both powerful, and he was unsupported. There was an easier way to do it. One gun turned, pointing directly at LeBeau's head. He started to walk back, keeping the weapon always leveled on the Cajun as he holstered the other one. The tableau held for a moment before he carefully knelt down and raised one of the grates with his hand, gun locked and unwavering on Remy.
Red washed over Ororo's vision, turning the scene before them into a bloody mess. "Go, then," she heard someone say, and she realized it was her. "Leave. But if you harm him any more, if you spill another drop of blood then I swear to you, I will hunt you down and ensure that the last thing that you hear will be your own screams as you roast alive and nothing - none of the perversions you have invented - will match what you will endure before that time comes." She waited, completely unmoving, the anger having given way to something else, something that transcended emotion and left only stillness in its place.
Rumlow gave her a mocking smile before dropping through the gate and letting it clang shut behind him. There was no shame in retreat before superior firepower, and his job was not to let himself be killed for no reason.
Remy lay all but insensible in the chair. He was nude and his head had been crudely shaved. His naked body held all the marks of torture; long, shallow cuts covered his torso and chest, and deeper, gouging ones on his arms and legs. There were burns to his chest, temples and genitals from where they must have used electricity, and a supperating raw wound on his stomach looked like the work of a blowtorch. As they approached, there was a crunching noise underfoot, which turned out to be a dozen teeth crudely extracted and then discarded.
Ignoring the smell of blood and burnt flesh, Ororo crouched down beside the man in the chair, reaching up to place one hand lightly on his grizzled cheek. For a long moment there was nothing but silence, and then she was standing, casting a glance back at the other person in the room. "Help me get him up."
Jubilee had dropped her shield the moment Rumlow left, and stood back as she watched Ororo go to Remy, she moved forward now, placing her hand against his shoulder to pull him forward and out of the chair. She twisted, shoving herself under his arm to keep him from falling and looked over at Ororo. "He's going to be okay."
It seemed a rather stupid statement given Remy's state and where they were but Jubilee felt it needed to be said, because he would be okay, or as okay as he ever was. She believed that, had utter faith that once they got him out of here and back home he'd be okay, he had to be.
Ororo said nothing aloud, gritting her teeth as she eased under his other arm and started for the door, Remy's feet making only the barest contact with the floor. #We have him,# she sent over the switchboard as they stepped around the still-unconscious guards on the flood. #And we are evacuating the building. Let it fall to the ground for all I care.#
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Date: 2013-05-01 12:55 pm (UTC)"Alright, Stormy." Time to get into position." He lept from the fire escape rail to the opposite wall, catching the moulded half-pillars with one hand and the window edge with another. The top floor was boarded up and deserted, but it made an easy route around the building to get above the second story windows, where Glorian was supposed to be pressed against.
She remembered the rules perfectly - 'no flying, you'll draw too much attention', 'stay quiet', 'wear clothes' - which didn't mean she liked them, but she could sense the strange-eyed man was wound up tightly enough to snap if anybody gave him any trouble and frankly she wasn't that stupid. It wasn't too far a jump to the other building, and as she neared it the slightest gust of wind buoyed her up until she had a chance to insinuate her fingers into a waiting crevice. What? It wasn't flying.
Silently she followed him as they edged their way methodically around the building, ears straining to hear any signs of activity within. So far, everything was quiet. That was good, right?
Three minutes. Sarah had never done the waiting game well, even when she was in the tunnels and it felt like all she had to do was sit around and wait. Besides, the SWAT uniforms were constricting and itchy. Anticipation stirred up memories of fighting in the tunnels: the cold, damp air; the watchful eyes as she waited for her turn. Except this time, these assholes had no idea what they were up against.
The last minute passed and Sarah left the van, throwing the door to the building open with a bony shoulder. A bone club pushed through the tough material of the SWAT suit, and she grinned. This was going to be fun.
The ground floor had already been cleared, and the stairway up was badly lit. Going up the stairs only took a minute, but in that time, Remy and Ororo were able to bend down and peer through the windows from the ledge above. Russo was talking into a cellphone, walking around and obviously rattled. After all, the last ten minutes had turned out to be a lot more exciting than he had planned. He still had four men with him, two guarding the stairs, one near Russo, and the last sitting on a chair beside Glorian. The reality manipulator was cuffed, hands behind his back, and the left side of his face was ugly with bruises. Obviously Russo had took his frustrations out on him.
Remy motioned to Ororo, pointing out the closest window to Glorian. He was near the corner, which meant getting him out would be relatively quick. He turned and moved further down the ledge, cat-like. Once Sarah started her distraction, Ororo would quietly go in through the window closest to Glorian. When she did, Remy would come in loud from the other side, hopefully diverting all attention away from their rescue.
Somewhat annoyingly, he heard a hiss from behind him as Ororo tried to get his attention. When he turned back, alarmed, he found her staring at him with a strange look on her face. "Are we really married?" she asked, quietly enough that it wouldn't draw attention from inside.
Remy blinked, not expecting the question. To be honest, he'd avoided Ororo as much as he could since the morning, not wanting to let his emotions get in the way. "Oui. Dis summer. We, uh- we got married in France." He was too off-guard to say anything but the truth.
"And this is what we do?" She jerked a chin at their current precarious position clinging to the side of the building.
Remy actually laughed lightly. "Sometimes, chere. Sometimes..."
"Well," she said, with a toss of her head and a grin he knew all too well, "maybe I understand why we are married, then."
http://x-logs.livejournal.com/1747844.html
There was a crackle and a tiny clap of thunder, followed by a much louder yelp of surprise and pain as Remy leapt off her, one hand clamped on his left buttock. He danced painfully around the room, muttering curses in Creole as he rubbed the reddened area.
"I can't believe you lightninged me in the ass!"
no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 01:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 02:28 pm (UTC)http://x-logs.livejournal.com/1963943.html
He shook the envelope slightly. "As an apology, he gave me dis. Arlen did find my parents, but it turned out dey weren't de ones he needed. So he put dis together and gave it to me. Names, photos, even my birth certificate, he said. Find out who I really am, what Remy's real name is."
"Oh, my." There didn't seem much else to say to this revelation, and Ororo merely placed a hand on Remy's arm, her expression hopeful. "That is... wonderful, Remy."
Remy didn't say anything, turning the envelope over and over in his hands as he looked at it. The envelope started to glow purple, and it exploded in Remy's hands with a sharp pop. Small fragments of charred paper rained down on the ground below the bench.
At first all she could register was shock; Remy had just destroyed everything, all the information that would have led him to his true life and answers to questions that had existed as long as he had. But then, hearing the happy sound of people walking by, people still alive because of his decisions, his actions, she began to understand. Whoever he might've been, he was someone else now.
Someone worth being, well and truly.
Sliding her hand down to clasp his, Ororo leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder, watching as a slight breeze stirred the bits of paper on the ground. "I love you, Remy Lebeau."
"I love you too, 'ro. Whoever in dere, it not me now. Never was." He squeezed her hand. "Come on. Let's go meet some of de thousands dat you saved, neh?"
He kissed her, briefly and hard. "Let' go show dem a hero."
no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 05:36 pm (UTC)http://x-dominion.livejournal.com/2665.html#comments
no subject
Date: 2013-05-01 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 09:23 am (UTC)It also means that all my favourite moments involve my character. Callisto doesn't get played much, particularly of late, but back in the day her traditional role was 'dumb muscle'. Over the years, this evolved into 'dumb muscle who you point at bikers when you need to humiliate them'. Then it became 'dumb muscle who will put on costumes and dance for your amusement'. I'm not quite sure how this evolution happened, but I'm pretty sure it's Dex's fault...
"Well, this is fucked," Kane muttered, with his thumbs tucked into his back pockets. First a lucky victory on the track had kept them in the mix with the competition, but the pressure was ratcheting up, and now Jan was hurt. Not too bad, but she wasn’t in any condition to lash on her skates. Maybe they could use her on the floor? "This is the situation. We found out that there's a high level meeting between the gangs over Kick distribution during the final match. Looks like some of the guys have certain territories bet on the winner. Thanks to Marius, there's some interest in his European 'product'. Enough to earn us an invite to meet with some gangs following the meeting. I'm hoping there will be enough time during the match to get some positive IDs and get the hell out. But now Jan can't skate out there."
Garrison turned to Drake. "Bobby, you need another skater for the competition?"
"Now that they've seen my face, I don't think that the wig is an option." He shrugged his shoulders. To be honest, he was just happy no one had been injured worse than Jan had. Still, he felt bad, and was hoping that the rest of his girls would get out of here without a scratch. And he was going to do the best to make that happen. Yes, even if it meant wearing the wig. "But do we have any other options?"
"Not unless..." Kane trailed off. This was going to get him punched in the face at some point, he was sure. "Callisto? You ever put on a pair of skates?"
"Fuck you," was Callisto's instant response.
http://x-logs.livejournal.com/3071907.html
In the centre of the party, Angel and Callisto had been left with Colleen Wing. Their job wasn't the most glamourous, but it was essential to be ready to draw security's attention away from the rest of the house while the others went to seek out more information on the connection with Sublime. Also, since losing sight of Oyama earlier, there was a chance that she would be at the party, protecting her interests, and she was far too dangerous to risk her surprising them.
The last few times Angel had been in a dress had been for school based parties - prom being the big one. This, she thought with glee, was not a prom kind of dress. She smoothed down the black silk she was sporting, almost petting it, and thought she was Never Going to Take This Off. This was way better than her leathers. Angel glanced over at Callisto and bit her lip slightly. "You kinda look like you're going to strangle someone with your dress," she said quietly, amazed that they'd even gotten Callisto in a dress to begin with.
Callisto herself was in dark blue, a long halterneck affair that hung perfectly from her sparse frame - an inch or two taller and she could be on a catwalk. Somehow, someone had managed to tame her hair, straightening and styling it into a 'touseled' look that was for once artful rather than careless. There was no hiding her elaborately tattooed arm, and one could still catch flashed of the scarring across her face from beneath her carefully styled bangs, but somehow, coupled with dramatically dark eye makeup and deep red lipstick, simple drop earrings and high-heeled shoes, she passed for 'rebellious aristocrat' rather than 'street kid'.
Or at least, she would have if it wasn't for the sour expression on her face.
"I don't need to strangle anyone," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Do you have any idea how many knives I can hide on myself under this thing?"
(and then there was a food fight (http://x-logs.livejournal.com/3122806.html))
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 09:23 am (UTC)Deke shook his head head, a regretful air about him and made a vague gesture. Within moments the the seemingly idle work crew was very focused on the mutants, heavy flashlights, bats and chains suddenly very much on display.
"You, girlie there. I don't remember inviting you in." Deke scratched under the eye-patch lazily. "Here's how it is. Either your club is a chickenshit little mob of wannabees, or you decided that we are. And sent the B-squad over here to see if maybe you want to walk in here and pick up the pieces after we and the Sons bleed each other. Walt?"
"That's the way I read it, Prez. Sending these gashes, the wetback and a fucking inker to negotiate a war treaty? Bullshit! And with the Feds in town..."
Deke lip rose a little in what charitably may have been called a smile, and realistically, a snarl. "Yeah. There's that."
Callisto just continued on her little 'stroll', watched every step of the way as she approached one of the now heavily armed men. Smiling benignly at him (which would've been warning enough for anyone who knew how rare it was to see Callisto smile), she then turned back around, heading back toward Deke. "So here's the thing," she said. "I don't wanna get all 'political' here -" (she didn't mime the quotes, but they were clearly implied) "- and I ain't one for talkin' too much so I don't wanna get into a debate. So I'm gonna cut right to it."
As usual, it wasn't that Callisto moved 'fast', exactly. There was nothing that appeared magical or mysterious about what she did. One of her booted feet swung out and hooked round the back of Deke's - though she hadn't seemed to be standing that close to him. As she yanked her foot back, and he swung backwards like a falling redwood toward the ground, one of his men charged forward with a bat, which Callisto removed from his grip and then prodded viciously into his face with a telltale crunch that promised two black eyes and a nose that would never sit right again. Then she simply knelt down, one of her bony, leather-clad knees handily coming to rest on Deke's thick, tattooed neck.
All of this was completely visible to the naked eye. It was obvious how she'd gone about it. It just happened with such surety and calm that there was no question of preventing it.
"Calling women 'gashes' is offensive," she said calmly. "Calling my friend Angelo a 'wetback' is offensive. Calling me and my girl 'dykes' is also fuckin' offensive unless we're the ones doin' it. And Angie... well, she's a fuckin' inker, but that don't mean you get to fuckin' so much as look at her wrong if you don't want to be shitting out your own fuckin' teeth, understand me?"
Realising that the man was in grave danger of losing consciousness if she continued to crush his windpipe, Callisto stood then, though he wasn't in a position to do much more than lie and suck in desperate, wheezing breaths.
"We are not a B-squad. And we do not negotiate with fuckers who ain't polite to us. Now, Angelo introduced me as Cal, so I'm gonna be kind and let you guys rewind. My name is Callisto. If you don't know it, that's your problem, not mine. Now, are you gonna play nice, 'Deke', or do I have to come spit in your mouth?"
http://x-logs.livejournal.com/3377135.html
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 01:45 pm (UTC)http://x-logs.livejournal.com/2208519.html
Well, it wasn't exactly Frankenstein's lab. There were no eyeballs floating in jars or large apparatus which extended up suspiciously roofwards for convenient access to thunderstorms. Still, a number of custom made devices whirred and blinked LED displays from spots on stainless steel topped tables. Kane had never been one of the science crowd, beyond what he'd picked up in high school, and as part of his training as an RCMP officer. His street level pharmacology knowledge was pretty obviously outclassed in this intricate and meticulously maintained lab.
Fortunately, his job in this case was to find someone who had the kind of mind to harness this kind of material, and according to the database, the skills he needed were neatly wrapped up in a blonde-haired package named Guthrie. Garrison rapped on the table top of the closest unit as he walked in. "Is it safe to come in?"
A pair of goggles peeked over one of the taller machines, blonde hair bubbling up under the elastic securing them to her face. There was a series of muffles, dampened by a thick nose and mask that sound distinctively like "Forge" and "doorbell" before she pulled the mask down around her neck. "Hey, Garrison. Just give me a moment to secure this." Paige disappeared again, followed by the hiss of vacuum and several air sensitive doors opening and closing, before she walked around to the front area, wiping her hands on her labcoat, an odd couple with her jeans and well abused sneakers.
"You didn't touch anything, did you? I haven't cleaned the working surfaces. No, don't look at me like that, I'm kidding. What's up?"
"Nuclear explosion in a city in North India. Did you catch the news?" Kane said, entirely without sarcasm. Paige was notorious for her long absences in the labs at the mansion, surfacing only to eat and sleep, and even then only if someone hadn't brought down dinner or if another night on the cot in the corner couldn't be faced. During their hours on the road in Afghanistan, Jono had mentioned his girlfriend's work habits with a mixture of pride and irritation.
Still, in the year and a half that Kane had been at the mansion, he'd maybe had a dozen conversations with Paige outside of the Danger Room or team review sessions.
"It came through the lab filter, yeah," Paige replied, leaning with one hand on a counter. "It's not as good as when Doug and Kitty were here, but it still narrows down the speed reading. I admit, Forge does most of it, but mutations are on my list. They're being fairly vague as to whether they're still alive, though, I don't see how it'd be possible what wi-" She paused, amused by her own rambling. "Yes, I've heard a bit."
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 01:46 pm (UTC)Walking through the different chambers, moving from the containment centre to the reading lab, had been loud - the rush of water, the frantic clicks of machines powerfully outnumbered by the sheer volume of the wasteland, the zip of suits and pulling on gloves and masks. It was a strange contrast to the dead silence Paige encountered now. No birds sang, no children laughed, no cars drove past, nothing but the low level static in her ear that kept her connected to both Tommy and Adrienne in the specific quarters. "Alright, I'm coming in on the testing area now," she said, the radioactive husk causing warbling vibrations to her voice that she hadn't heard in a very long time.
"We're ready and waiting." Tommy said in reply as he waited suited up in the lab. He too, had somewhat switched off, at least emotionally. His mind was set to help Paige analyze the pieces from the site and was ready with a safe aluminum compound practiced extensively and stored in the back of his mind so it would take only seconds to transform for Adrienne. It was his emotional reaction that he'd turned off, the fact that the quiet area around them had once been full of life...that was now just gone. He couldn't think about it and still concentrate, so it was gone to think about later. If anything, he was good at brooding after the fact. At the moment, he just busied his hands so everything would be set for Paige.
"Ready, waiting, and trying desperately not to lose our lunch," muttered Adrienne, "or run away screaming. Garrison owes me a hell of a lot of brownies for this. You guys must really like brownies, too," she added, hoping that taking about something inane would keep her mind off of their situation. "Or did he promise you something else, like cheesecake?"
"Alright, I'm nearing the blast centre," Paige informed them, her voice crisp and authoritative before moving to a more playful tone. "I'm here for fun. Someone's going to cellophane my toilet tonight, aren't they?"
http://x-logs.livejournal.com/3019605.html
Captain Archibald Corrigan, Ret., very late of United States Air Force, and presently a free spirited bon-vivant and gentleman who have loved to be of leisure, cleared his throat solemnly, tugged on his faded leather jacket, brushed off the non-existent speck of dust off his checkered pants and morosely faced the yet another trial that the Almighty had seen fit to put before him.
"Dum-Dum. You've put on weight. And also the ugly."
"Archie. I see you're still wearing that ferret nailed to your face. Let's have a seat." They went to one of the side booths and slid in, Dugan on Corrigan's right. It was an odd collection at the table, and drew a few glances from around the bar. "This is Garrison Kane, Christian's kid. He's the one that knows Logan and North."
Corrigan stared at Kane measuringly, a faintly puzzled expression stealing across the scraggled face. "Huh. And yet he looks so normal..." Archie shrugged and shook it off, turning the watery blue eyes toward Paige. "I am the CEO of South Seas Airways, you know. A man of means. A Taipan. Possibly the Taipan. Very exotic and rich and powerful. Are you single? Also, what's your name?"
"It's Paige, and as tempting as I find that offer in the making, I'm already getting regular intercourse from a touch empath who shoots lasers. Generally at people who hit on me." Paige casually stole a sip of the beer sitting in front of Garrison, ignoring his protesting noise, before returning to her water. "But I'll keep you posted if things change. That is of course if we leave on friendly terms..."
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 01:46 pm (UTC)An opposite of ladylike snort was uttered from Paige, and she set her glass down to cover her nose and mouth, laughing. "That I would have paid to see. But seriously, has anyone found anyone willing to say anything other than fuck you? One of the bouncers, Todd, seems nice enough. I can't tell if he's playing Nice Guy or genuinely a good sort, but he yanked a guy out who was advancing on the stage for me the other day. And he calls me ma'am?"
Wanda smiled, knowing the others were chaffing as much as she was at their inability to react the way they normally would. No one had any idea that the three new girls could have easily handled the clients and the bouncers without thinking too much about it and, sadly, that was the way it had to stay. Being able to dropkick a slime ball off the stage would have drawn attention to them in a way none of them could afford. "Speaking of troubling clients," she said, raising her eyebrows, knowing the others would catch her drift.
"Yeeeeah," Jubilee drawled, leaning back in her chair slightly but making sure she didn't tip it up onto two legs. "You guys catch the brawl the bouncers had to break up?"
"You're going to have to be more specific," Paige replied, continuing in a musing tone. "Is it perhaps the one where the Hel patron called Jose a scratch back? Or the one where Bunny asked why her lap dance had the rune for soup on his shoulder?"
"Don't remind me about that one," Wanda sighed. She'd almost gotten an entire pitcher of beer thrown in the face and she hadn't been able to do much more than run around and pretend to scream and be afraid. It had been a discouraging evening. "Those boys seem far too comfortable in their reputation - the entire bar seems to take a few steps back when they come into the place."
"I still think the one with the soup rune should totally be like, part of 'hilarious thing I saw of the week' or something, Jubilee noted, leaning back in her chair a little more. "As to Hel's boys, I've heard some gossip. They like it when you treat them like they're the only ones in the room, totally give better tips, egomaniacs like crazy."
"So, to sum up so far... Hel gang are racist, stupid, way into this whole Norse power thing and we're screwed because they pretty much run the place." Paige sigh, leaning into the hand that had been used to tick off the points. "I guess as long as the leader doesn't come in we'll mostly be fine."
"Normally, we would want the leader to come in," Wanda said slowly, "but I have a feeling that in this case, we would rather he only show up when we have a fully accompaniment and not just the three of us."
Jubilee waited for a moment, wondering if the universe would oblige by sending in the very man they did not want to see right at this moment, but after a few minutes had expired she relaxed and took another drink. "He's some form of weird Norse pagan I've heard, and not the hippy, let's drink all the mead and have sex in the woods type. No, this is the bring back sacrifices and bathes in the blood of our enemies type.
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Date: 2013-05-02 01:47 pm (UTC)“Paige, Daughter of Lucinda. It is good to see you, sister.” Brunnhilde sprung from her seat, both her and the horse becoming solid as they touched the earth. “Our duty calls us once more. I would give you the honour of culling this warrior.”
“And you,” Paige answered, her heart having long sunk, but that didn’t make it any less true. Her bare ankle brushed against the sueded twill weave of Garrison’s jeans - she had long kicked off her ridiculous pumps – and she took a breath. “But I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip.”
Brunnhilde’s expression turned puzzled. “You are a Valkyrie, Paige, daughter of Lucinda. Our purpose is to take the souls of those fallen and take them to their eternal rest. This is our duty. Take the mortal and join us in escorting him to his eternity.”
Tears sparkled in her eyes, unshed, and Paige shook her head. “No. And neither can you have him. I’m sorry.”
http://x-logs.livejournal.com/2909864.html
Sooo..." Paige drawled, crawling out from behind the machine she was currently tinkering with, brushing down the imaginary dusting on her jeans with her hands. "The same thing we're doing now but for more people. Mostly people who are less inclined to pretend to like our ideas."
"Yes, with the added bonus of being the ones to get yelled at if they don't turn out the way we hope. You got to admit, it's a pretty attractive offer." Kane grinned, his teeth very white against his finally regrown dark beard.
Laughing, Paige came forward and boosted herself up on one of the white counters, the heels of her sneakers bumping solidly on a cabinet underneath. "Well, I'm sold. I mean, it's not like I'm busy or anything. I need something to fill up my afternoons."
"Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? No, don't know that one? Geez, talk about a tough room." Garrison perched himself easily on a lab stool. "So, I thought that a friendly wager should be in order, just to motivate us to make the participants of the Danger Room's lives as miserable as possible."
"Even I know the Beatles, I've just found it best not to encourage you."
Paige smiled, kicking her feet in a second nature sort of way. "I already love this plan, as it excludes me being miserable. Did you have something in mind, or am I going to yet again have to be the brains of this sad operation?"
"Hey, there's honour in being the pretty face of this plan. I was thinking that what we could do with the Danger Room is to maybe expand a little the types of programs we do. I mean, we've got powers training, squad tactics, elaborate obstacle courses; I figured that we could get more inventive and maybe come up with some other ways to use the technology for training. There might have been Next Generation episodes on cable late last night, when they get trapped in the holodeck? Those are awesome."
"Being the cute, furry mascot and the pretty face are not the same thing," she pointed out cheerfully. "I only watched the original series but I think I get you. We send them all to sparkly toga Rome in the most embarrassing way possible, the first one who cries... doesn't win? Maybe I don't understand after all."
"All I'm saying is that we can use this as a chance to try and do something different with the Danger Room for training in between what we already knows works. What do you say?" Kane said, spreading his hands in an open, honest fashion that actually appeared anything but.
Paige stared at him, eyebrows raised. "I'd already signed on until you made that face. You're now going to tell me you plan to run all your tests on me first, aren't you? And your plans involve making me kill puppies to build my resolve or something. Or... drink real beer and spin around a baseball bat? Sorry, my cultural knowledge of Canada beyond up there, sometimes French and better stimulants is limited."
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Date: 2013-05-02 03:10 pm (UTC)-Late night conversations in webchat.
-Brain storming that spirals out of control (in a fun way)
-Doom threads!
-Everyone swarming the new person with waves of kindness and good words.
-Google Hangout sessions!
-Experts: If you need to know something I imagine there's someone who can give you specifics because they have real world experience.
-Realism. Realism was the main reason why I joined the game in the first place. I remember when I was writing up something for Molly's initial plot and the mods were like 'well how does Orphan Maker get out of the hospital if he's a prisoner?' and I remember being a little frustrated because I couldn't think of a reason at the time. But that's a good thing because it forced me to think realistically about these things and it made the world that much more believable. Which leads into...
-Serious conversations, ie the mutant registration thread. I enjoy having people to talk about these things with.
The log specifics will come shortly.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 03:36 pm (UTC)http://x-logs.livejournal.com/2204570.html
The pursuit is a long one, and fast. They move at the speed of the wind, both of them, and the world seems hard-pressed to keep up. The ground beneath their feet flickers and changes from moment to moment, thick ground cover to patchy grass to... bare rock? Bare rock, the summit of Mount Wakanda, but warping to fit the needs of the moment, into a vast rocky field in which two combatants may face each other.
Achebe whirls on Jean with a howl of anger and fear. Away! he shrieks, bony hands reaching towards her, clenching. And the rock flows like water, into vast simulacra of those clutching hands, snatching at her. Catch you, break you, throw you down the mountain!
Jean doesn't even have time to think; not a bad thing given how difficult thinking is here. Reacting is much better, much easier, and if the ground becomes unsound, well, Jean is not unfamiliar with air. The wings which seem to flicker and move as she leaps up out of the reach of the rock hands are composed of little more than wind and sunlight, and they hold her long enough to settle back onto the solid surface. Little man, you'll not be rid of me so easily.
For a moment, there is something close to wonder in Achebe's mad eyes as he sees her, surrounded by light. Then those eyes harden again. Little bird, he spits. Little bright bird. This is not your story. Not your world!
The edges of the summit erupt, spears of cold black rock pushing upwards, curving inwards. In the distance, there is roaring, the voice of a lion. Of the Lion. Achebe's face lights up with something transcendent and gleeful at the same time, and his hunched, wizened form starts to change. He stands up straight and grows, grows until he is taller than Cain Marko and more broad. A mountain of a man, standing on top of a mountain. Gray stringy hair becomes a blazing white mane, and the symbols painted on his body start to glow.
You have no idea how wrong you are, Jean says, sounding almost amused, contemptuous. You may shape it into your own image all you like, but at its foundation this is almost more my world than the other. The spears of rock don't stop, don't shatter, don't do anything so overt, their shifting off course so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable, except that they don't come near her as he'd intended, the cage he'd tried to make becoming a hallway of jagged rock.
(continued)
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 03:36 pm (UTC)Achebe howls again, his voice far deeper than it had been a moment before. He walks towards her, each step shaking the mountain. Behind him, the light of the meteor is brighter and closer than it had been before their chase began. Time is marching on, even here.
And as he approaches her from the front, something else strikes from behind; something vast and dark-winged, its giant reptilian face that of a vulture. If a vulture can have a wingspan large enough to cast an entire mountain into shadow.
Two to one? Surely those odds are uneven... You're going to need more backup. From the outside the fight looks massively unfair; Jean hasn't moved, hasn't stepped away from the giant stomping towards her. She's built no visible defenses, taken up no weapons.
The truth is, the fight is massively unfair, but Jean thinks he deserves what's coming to him. It's been so odd, being so deeply immersed in pure astral thought/matter, been so hard to track single ideas and keep her thoughts separate from this other world that is so familiar that she could melt into it if she isn't careful and spend all eternity, it seems, flying between thoughts and emotions, experiencing the entire universe of conscious thought from the inside out. But now she has a focus, and as she brings her full attention onto Achebe, no longer fighting to keep her mind wholly her own, the solid edges of her skin blur, fade in and out, her feet sink down into the ground. A little smile drifts onto her face and somehow it seems the sky is smirking down at the giant as the wind itself becomes a restraint around the great bird.
The giant stops in his tracks, looks around. The almost furtive look of fear seems very alien on his altered features. Sekhmet! he shouts, eyes darting back towards Jean. Sekhmet! The roaring is very distant now, or perhaps it is only the sound of thunder after all.
Achebe's face contorts with rage and desperation. He reaches for one of the rock spears, tears it loose from the ground as it reshapes into something much closer to a spear. I will eat your heart! he snarls at Jean and charges her, spear outstretched.
No, my heart is safe from you, she says, although oddly her hand reaches up to press gently against her temple in a kind of caress. Safe and secure and somewhere you can't reach. Perhaps he thinks she is distracted, is trying to take advantage, but she isn't; she knows when the spear is launched towards her, feels it flying directly for her, and simply removes his constraints upon the matter, allows it to return to that perfect, gray, featureless matter, to fall to the ground before being absorbed again into his dream of a mountain. Foolish man. I'm not afraid of dirt.
Achebe's blazing eyes narrowed as he staggers to a stop. What then? he asks softly. Fire? But no, you do not flinch from the fire in the sky... He watches her intently, as if studying her reactions. Not earth or its beasts, not fire... water?
Clever little man, can add two and two and find the sum of not all it's parts. Now think on this... Do you really want to see me get angry? Jean asks, eyes focused, tight little smile on her lips and the whole world seems to pause and watch him to see which way he will jump.
(continued)
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 03:36 pm (UTC)Jean gazes up at the image of herself and suddenly laughs out loud. Water and myself. My two greatest fears. You are clever. Or supremely unlucky. Or both! Certainly unwise... She giggles again as the monstrous echo of herself moves towards her, leans down and envelopes her in cold, watery hands. Which, when they open, are empty, Jean has vanished.
The cold, deep blue eyes blink, then close again and when they open they're as green as the sea before a storm. The water-Jean straightens, looking briefly surprised as the river of blue water hair cascading down her back boils away in an instant to reveal dancing flames of red and gold. No, little man, she says, and suddenly he is, his giant form evaporating around him to leave him staring up at his own creation gone rogue. You can't win here. You may be good, but I'm better. The ground below him reaches up, tendrils of earth twining and twisting, forming a cage of golden light around him.
No! the much-shrunken Achebe howls in despair. He throws himself forward, grabbing at the golden bars - only to be flung back in a flash. Like a broken toy, he falls to the floor of the cage, unmoving. In the distance, the roaring is all but inaudible now. A mere whisper.
Jean smiles faintly, shrinking back down into herself, at least as far as she can, and if her hair dancing in the breezes which don't exist crackles like flame or the pale edges of her skin fade in and out into the blue water of the sky, well, there's no one to see that she's slipping now, and Nathan won't care, wherever he's gone to. It will be okay once they get out of this overwhelming press of energy and, if they don't, well, that will be ok, too. Better than. Too much better than and it's a dangerous thought, so once again her hand reaches up to press against her temple, recalling her to herself a bit more firmly.
She glances back up at the mountain as the warps and twists Achebe created subside. It's a beautiful land you all created, she tells his unconscious form, turning to gaze back down on the golden land below. A lovely corner in our grey, edgeless plain of thought. And what is, is, and will remain. A new landscape in the endless mind. People rebuild, minds recover. She pauses, then smiles. About time.
no subject
Date: 2013-05-02 06:09 pm (UTC)Smiling, Paige closed the book and gently lowered her hand down, down below her thigh, but not stretching it out too far away from her body; an offer but not a demand. "Okay. Let's go inside. It's been a long day."
For a long moment, the red girl looked at Paige's hand, weighing up her choices. She could keep running, but where could she go? She had no idea where she was. And this girl, so pretty in the afternoon light with her diamond form, had been nothing but kind, unlike the frightening man who spoke the language of her people's killers. Perhaps it was time to stop running, to be the girl, not the monster.
She shuffled closer, reaching for the hand without thinking, a purely instinctive action.
There was a dull rustling noise as slivers of diamond fell into the grass, but Paige merely smiled and threaded her fingers with the much larger, clawed ones as she stood up. "There we are. Think you can manage to the house or would you like to take a trip on the Paige Express? Complimentary cup of tea with every door to door service."
Tea? The glowing blue eyes blazed stronger at that. With another, firmer nod, she let Paige draw her into a more upright position. The first steps towards the house were shaky and filled with trepidation, but the girl's hand in hers was firm without being constraining. And it had been so long since she could last remember someone touching her... Then she stumbled a little, worn out from the flight and the fight and the fright. Struggling, she managed the smallest hint of a word through vocal chords that hadn't been used in a very long time.
"Help?"
"You bet, little mouse," Paige replied kindly, bending down to scoop the girl into her arms, cradling her to her chest as if she were a kitten or a doll; a diamond husk did have it uses other than able to fund for university and hold hands with frightened foreigners. She'd have had a little more trouble, otherwise. "Tea, nap and maybe soup when you wake up, I think..."
no subject
Date: 2013-05-08 02:09 pm (UTC)