reverielogs | open » you don't need them to believe in you

» WHO? rogue + ota
» WHEN? last week of june
» WHERE? fitness area, chapel, hallways, others
» WHAT? testing her new inhibitor bracelet, cleaning the chapel
» WARNINGS? scars and talk of how she got them through imprisonment and torture during a genocidal war, talk of character death

hands up if you're ready for a fight // i don't need you to believe in me ( o p e n » mess hall )

[ The gloves on her bed had been a surprise, the thin fabric the same color as her faded green jumpsuit, but she hadn't hesitated to snatch them up and slip them on, the familiar feeling of fabric encasing her skin more of a comfort than anything else has been on the station. She hasn't had gloves for almost two months and she's missed them, the terror of accidentally touching and hurting someone ever present without those small safeguards. She's been careful, of course, but her life has always been plagued with those horrible accidents.

But things will be different now. Her vision has been returning since that other 'accident' that had led to her death and subsequent resurrection, only a peripheral blur still giving her trouble, and so she walks confidently to the mess hall, marching right up to one of the fabricators for her high caloric breakfast, and—

There's a bracelet hanging there, innocent-looking and completely still, not having been set there recently but seemingly ignored by anyone else who must have been by recently. Picking it up with a hesitant motion, there's a spark of hope deep inside Rogue as she examines the innocuous object. A small silver surface, a typical cuff bracelet style, small circles of inlaid metal along the inside of the bracelet. And through the center, only noticeable when looking closely, a thin line along the band.

It couldn't be, but it was. An inhibitor bracelet perfectly matching the design Hank had been working on for her before the war. He'd never finished it, they'd barely been able to test it, but she'd thought of it so often over the years that there's no mistaking it.

Within moments she's sitting at one of the tables, tray of food left forgotten as she strips off her gloves and slips the bracelet onto her right wrist opposite her communicator. The thin line through the bracelet begins to subtly glow, just a hint of light from within, and there's the slightest sense of something as the magnetic field begins to emanate from the band of metal. Her attention is now completely on her wrist, expression filled with tentative hope and an edge of fear, and she won't notice if anyone happens to walk by or even sit at her table. Feel free to comment on the barely palatable food growing colder by the second. ]

fight until we're winning // don't you wanna be a superhero ( o p e n » gym, hallways)

[ Working out in the jumpsuit has been difficult, her movement not quite as free as she'd once been accustomed to, and so she doesn't hesitate to put her shiny new bracelet to use. In the fitness area, she undoes the top portion of the suit, slipping out of it and tying the sleeves around her hips to keep them out of the way. Her ribs no longer show beneath the black sports bra, though it's clear that she's still too thin for living in space where it's so easy to lose muscle mass. What is also clear to see are the scars, long thick strips of dark pink tissue running the length of her back from shoulder to waist, the precision of each betraying that they were not created by accident. The small tattoo of M4827 on her inner left arm is a pretty good clue as to what happened for anyone who cares to notice.

She doesn't care who sees them, though. Her focus is on the weights she lifts until her arms and legs burn and on the tightening and movement of muscle as she moves through a 24-form taichi sequence, first slowly and then with incrementally increased speed throughout the week. Her stamina isn't anything like what it used to be though, so there are frequent breaks, and she's happy to speak with others during those times. She may even ask if anyone's interested in a light sparring match.

And at least twice a day, she abandons her mag boots in her room and goes for a barefoot run through all the decks, slow to fast and back to slow, occasional breaks for easy walking. Her breathing has gotten better over the weeks, she can last for longer periods of time, but she still has such a long way to go. Each session of dodging people in hallways her hair tied up in a ponytail and her torso bare of the jumpsuit helps get her one step closer to her goal. Anyone care to join her? ]

get your mission on lock and see it through // you've got all the power you need in you ( o p e n » chapel )

[ Rogue hasn't believed in God in a very long time. She can't quite remember if she ever really did, honestly — perhaps as a child in foster care, hoping for a better life that had taken far too long to come. Perhaps when she'd finally been adopted and she'd had a few years of being in a loving family. Any true belief she'd had a in a benevolent higher power had been destroyed when she'd been gifted with her mutation, an ability she'd never been able to control that could so easily hurt the ones she'd loved. And once the war had begun, there'd been no hope of that belief ever being rekindled. Watching the human race destroy itself in the quest for a genocidal cleansing of the planet will do that to a person.

But none of that means that she begrudges others their religious beliefs. If people here can find some solace in worship of whatever gods they believe in, then she'll do whatever she can to help that effort. Including cleaning up the chapel. She'd first wandered into it during one of her runs, and the sorry state of it had sparked in her a need to do something. She's not an engineer, she has no technical skills to help repair or maintain the station, and she has no strength to aid in the quest of uncovering more on Reverie, but this. This she can do. So for a few hours each day, she spends time in the chapel picking up any bits of garbage left behind, scrubbing at walls with a towel, and bit by tiny bit clearing up some of the grime covering the room. She doesn't disturb those who wander in looking for that solace, but she'll gladly engage in whatever conversation is initiated. ]

show the symbol on your chest // show the world who you really are ( w i l d c a r d » )

[ Looking for something else? Drop it n the comments below or hit me up at taintedcrimson or taintedcrimson#0896. Rogue's inhibitor bracelet only has a charge of 5 hours, but this is still being discovered, so... Accidents May Happen. If you haven't filled out Rogue's permissions, please do so! ]

( » ♪ )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It's difficult to remember at this point who she's told and who she hasn't, simply because she tells anyone and everyone if the need or occasion arises. The safety of every one here is her priority, and she doesn't see the point in keeping this secret on the station. ]

I'm sorry, sugar, I didn't realize I hadn't told you yet. [ There's genuine apology in her words. ] I'm a mutant and my mutation is in my skin. I haven't been able to control it for 17 years, ever since my ability first manifested. So, for me at least, this thing's a godsend.

You don't owe me anything. [ Frankly, that she'd feel the need to apologize to him at all surprises him.

'Mutant', though. That's definitely a new one ㅡ except, no. Wait: ] I don't suppose you happen to know someone going by "E. Lehnsherr" on the network?

[ The question makes her smirk with a dark amusement and a wee bit of exasperation with her fellow mutant. Thank goodness he'd finally come out with his real name. ]

That's Erik, formerly known as Henryk in these parts. Yeah, we know each other - in various, weird ways.

He did make quite the impression.

[ To put it mildly. He falls into step with her, hands tucked into the pockets of his jumpsuit. ]

It's seldom I get the chance to meet someone quite so melodramatic and my mother was a politician.

[ Okay, now she's laughing in actual amusement, louder and lighter than she's managed yet on the station. And lord, does it feel good. ]

Sugar, you keep saying things like that and you'll end up my favorite person on this whole station.

[ His shoulders lift slightly. He doesn't know Erik, not really, but Rogue's reaction tells him that he'd not been that far off the mark. That's enough for him. ]

You have history, then.

[ Oh no, sir, that was a direct bulls-eye. One day Rogue will have to tell him some stories of just how melodramatic Erik can be. Perhaps if they ever manage to find another source of alcohol on the station, they could share stories and make it a real party. ]

Sort of. We met seventeen years ago for me, but it's still two decades in his future.

[ Let it not be said that Kylo Ren needed the Force to be perceptive. ]

There's a man here from four thousand years in my past, [ give or take a few decades. Star Wars and its weird and ever-changing calendars made the exact time difficult to pinpoint, harder still to relate it back to others in a way that made any sort of sense. ] And another from several years before my birth.

[ The moral of the story: it's never not going to be weird, this place. Best not to dwell on it if it can be helped. ]

You're unsure of what to make of him. [ A guess, albeit an educated one. ]

Edited 2018-06-29 05:23 (UTC)

[ Four thousand. Her eyes grow appropriately wide at that, and she can't even begin to imagine how oddly strange that must be for him. Of course, her world didn't really have much civilization to speak of four thousand years before her time, so that put things into a rather different perspective when considering that probably isn't the case where he's from. ]

It's kinda the other way around, really. I know him better than I know most people, but he doesn't know a darn thing about me.

[ It could be worse. He'd hallucinated his uncle briefly when he'd first woke ㅡ not the Luke he'd known, of course, the one that had come to him that night blade in hand, but the younger, almost sickeningly optimistic version. The Luke Skywalker of Legend. ]

Frustrating, I imagine, not having a place to direct those emotions.

Edited 2018-06-29 06:42 (UTC)

[ Yikes. That must have sucked. ]

It's-- kinda complicated between us, beyond even that. We weren't friends in person, we don't actually have a good past between us, but with the Erik in my head...

[ He's going to think she's crazy, talking about differences like this, things to do with her powers that no one else could ever understand. But it's something she wants to share with him, so she's trying her best to explain. ]

He's one of my best friends. He kept me sane during the war and helped me in ways no one else could. I wouldn't be here now if it wasn't for him.

[ It sounds complicated — or at least it sounds like one of those situations that seems complicated at a glance but once you begin to peel back the layers becomes quite simple.

He is quiet, mulling of this and adding it to what he has already shared with him. She is trusting him with something, opening herself a little to allow him a chance to know her better. It's as much a test as it is a sign of trust, an opportunity to prove himself. ]

Do you wish to know him better?

I don't know.

[ It's an honest answer, the most honest she could be with either of them. She could have easily lied to herself, pretended she was telling him the truth, but they both deserve better than that, and this is Important. ]

He's... different, I can tell that much. His heart is still the same, I think, but his actions are different, and his opinions. Sometimes I do want to get to know him better, I want to be his friend and help him become the man I know he can be, but--

[ The breath she pulls in shakes, and it takes her a moment to sort out just how to say what she needs to. ]

There are things in my past that I don't want him to know because of how they'll hurt him. I worry that getting too close will make it impossible to keep them from him.

[ She could lie, certainly, and the lie would have been every bit as telling as the truth.

More-so, in some ways. ]

He is a grown man, more than capable of protecting himself should he need it.

[ The simple, unvarnished truth. He doesn't know Erik Lensherr, doesn't know the depth and breadth of their history, but Rogue speaks of him fondly and with something close to longing. Hesitating seems pointless. ]

Is he? I'm not so sure.

[ About either sentiment, really. She might not know everything, but she knows enough about his past to know exactly the type of shenanigans he can get up to if left unchecked. But more than that, she knows that he's been alone for far too much of his life, and that kind of pain isn't something that a person easily moves past. ]

In my experience, [ it's Leia he thinks of now, of his mother in that moment when she decided to keep the secret of his grandfather from him, ] keeping secrets, even well-meaning ones, tends not to end as one would hope.

[ Secrets can hurt, she knows that better than most. But what do you do when the truth might hurt more? When it could change everything? ]

You're right. [ she confirms softly, her voice wavering slightly ] Maybe I'm just not ready to face what happened myself.

open » you don't need them to believe in you

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject