reverielogs | open; tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree

» WHO? Hank McCoy (

bestials), the rest of the X-gang, and you
» WHEN? throughout the latter half of June
» WHERE? around the station
» WHAT? arriving, exploring, finding himself in need
» WARNINGS? n/a, will edit as necessary

i. keep on truckin' (deck three, near the bar)

[ Hank's mind is hazy as he blinks awake. Distantly, he becomes aware that he's not in his room at the mansion, when he hears the recorded voice repeating something about trying to save the world? Did he leave the TV on to Star Trek again?

He pushes himself up, picking up the odd looking device nearby, and sticking it in his pocket, deciding he'll figure it what it is later. First things first, he needs to know where he is.

He begins making his way down the hallway towards the nearest sound of people. That winds up leading him to... ] A bar?

[ Very odd. He walks right past the bar with its collection of bottles of varying fullness, and goes to investigate the computer-looking devices at the rear of the room. He picks up a VR headset, making at it. He mutters to himself, not really paying attention to whether anyone else can hear him, ]

Is this Cerebro?

ii. ramblin' man (any living quarters deck, a few days later)

[ Hank realizes he ought to count himself lucky that the serum stayed in his bloodstream as long as it did. But it's hard to feel grateful when he's currently losing grasp on his body, seams tearing as his muscles ripple and expand, growing larger than the coveralls can contain.

Resigning himself to his lot in life, Hank ventures into the hallways, seeking out unclaimed rooms that might hold larger-sized clothes. He might barge into a few occupied rooms by accident, so please excuse this large blue man in a tattered jumpsuit. ]

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know this room was... I didn't think anyone would be in here.

iii. crocodile rock (wildcard)

[ hit me up on plurk at objectpermanence or discord at Christine#9103 for plotting alternate starters! starters also available for Charles Xavier, Raven Darkholme, Erik Lehnsherr, and any other mutants or mutant-related shenanigans! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes."

Says Jasnah, a little bit faintly. She's grabbed her scabbard, has her hand on the hilt of her sword, is half out of her desk, and coming down from the shock only gradually. She's never seen someone who looked like him before. She straightens up, composes herself forcibly, and gingerly sets down the sword.

"May I help direct you to an unoccupied set of quarters?"

A sword is honestly among the last things Hank is expecting to see here on a space station, but he handles his surprise admirably.

"Yes, thank you. I would appreciate that."

"All right."

Dusting her hands off and approaching the door.

"You must have just arrived?"

If he's looking for rooms, and she hasn't run into him in the mess or corridors before. She thinks she probably would have noticed.

No, if anything she may have noticed a pale scrawny man in horn rimmed glasses, but Hank's current appearance is certainly a newcomer.

"About a week ago." Which probably doesn't explain why he's going door to door. "My uniform doesn't fit me like this, so I was trying to see if I could find one in a larger size."

"You've been here a week?"

She asks, mildly incredulous, and then catching on with the rest of what he's said.

"No, you've just taken this shape." So he was sized for the original suit. "Are you- alarmed, or were you expecting this transition?"

Jasnah can't help but think she wouldn't take this quite so gracefully.

She catches on quickly. Hank is grateful he doesn't have to go into further details.

"It was expected, yes. But the timing was a bit of a surprise." Usually he has to reapply the serum every morning, this time it lasted over a week. He had begun to think he would remain human-looking for good.

"Everything about this place has a way of managing to be surprising."

She reassures him, looking him over once more, trying to put the last of her alarm to rest.

"I apologize for my initial reaction. There are superstitions about men with blue skin on my world. But you aren't an Aimian, I take it?"

He chuckles sardonically. "Heh. You can say that again."

At her question, he squints slightly, shaking his head. "No. I'm a mutant, from Earth." Because apparently that's a distinction one needs to make around here. "What is an Aimian?"

"A race. I'm an Alethi, so my skin is tan, my hair is black. An Aimian would be your colour, perhaps a little more pale."

But, giving him a thoughtful glance;

"Much less hair, or I'd have asked to begin with."

"I see." It's odd to think of there being a whole race of blue people. Where he's from, it's just himself and Raven.

"No, my appearance is a result of my mutation. I'm the only one who looks like this."

"Well, if we ever find a way out of here, you could come visit Roshar. Blend into the crowd."

She offers, wryly, though she's sure this is impossible. Sometimes she feels like they'll never be able to leave.

He gives a hollow-sounding laugh.

"I'd like that." It would be nice to fit in, like this, for once.

"I'm Jasnah Kholin."

She pauses, introducing herself, quietly.

"I've been here for a several months now."

"Hank McCoy. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He extends a large, clawed blue hand for a shake.

She rests her hand delicately in his, and shakes it, feeling the need to say;

"We don't have this gesture on my world. Handshaking."

"Oh, well you've adapted to it beautifully." Really, it's a fine handshake, and the fact that she didn't hesitate to touch him as he is means a lot to Hank.

"Thank you."

She says, because;

"People don't realize how automatic their learned gestures really are."

"No, I imagine they don't." As the handshake ends, he asks, "How do people greet one another on your world, then?"

open; tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree

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