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

[ Her body goes still as her mind whirs in emotional circles, dancing around all the horrible things she could say that keep trying to come out of her mouth when she's around these people from her past. When she finally wins out, she shifts her weight on her feet and looks down at the floor, expression slightly pained and more than a little haunted. ]

I know what you mean. I'm sorry you're having to go through that.

[ He learned very early on to be aware of the body language of the people around him. Noticing the tiniest shifts in tension, attention, or expression could be the difference between life or death. That sort of hyper-awareness isn't as vital anymore, but old habits die hard.

He doesn't miss the change in her. Better say something and get it over with. He shrugs off her condolences. He's handled worse than this. ]

What do you think about it?

It doesn't matter what I think.

[ The response is automatic, accompanied by a glance up at him before looking away again, the edges of her expression tightening as she shifts again. She's losing her hold over her own emotions, bit by bit becoming more overwhelmed by them, and this is neither the time nor the place for it to happen. ]

All the people I knew and cared about are showing up here from before they knew me, before I was even born. I'm not okay with it.

I think it's clear that our personal opinions on anything are of little importance to whatever is happening here. Or perhaps our disapproval of it is the point.

[ He reaches his arms back and interlaces his fingers before lifting his arms as far as they can go, muscles flexing and tendons shifting. ]

You just get to meet them all over again. Learn something new about them, maybe. It could be worse. They could have arrived hating you. Or from after you died.

[ Well, he's not wrong on that first point. Whoever or whatever is behind all this doesn't give a damn how they feel about any of it. She watches him move for a moment, not admiring but just... absently observing. ]

It would have been better that way, actually. At least then I'd know that I get to die.

[ He makes an irritated face at that. ]

Of course you get to die. Everybody does. We're mutants, we're not immortal. The question is what you manage to do with your life before that.

[ Her expression becomes clouded, conflicted, and she looks away, hugging her arms a little tighter around herself. She'd tried to do good, use her life to help others and make the world better, and look where all that had gotten her.

The words that she wants to say won't come and all she can do is stand there like an idiot, thinking about what her efforts had earned her and just how she wasn't as soon as he was that they all got to die. If she'd been kept in that lab, if they'd forced her to absorb the right combination of mutants... They'd brought her back from the brink of death enough times that she wasn't sure of much of anything anymore. ]

[ She's gone completely silent, and he can't determine why, exactly. ]

Did you... honestly think we were immortal? What is he teaching you at that school?

[ Other than to hate themselves. To live in fear. That seemed to be a common thread. ]

[ For some reason his words simultaneouslymake her want to cry and punch him in the face. The former seems to weigh heavier though, which just makes her angry in turn. ]

I'm not an idiot, Erik.

[ Erik lifts his hands, exasperated. ]

So we just wait and hope that somebody arrives from far enough in the future that they can confirm yes, you also will age and die like the rest of us. If you're not killed first.

[ He pauses, his lips tightening a moment before deciding to continue. ]

And before you start, Apocalypse and Shaw were unusual cases. And were killed before you were born, so you couldn't have absorbed their powers.

[ She lifts a hand to run at her eyes, a headache beginning to creep in. Does he have this effect on everyone? ]

I don't want to talk about this anymore. [ And then, letting her hand fall helplessly to her side: ] In all probability, I likely won't even get the chance to die. If I ever go back home, whatever we did to the timeline will erase me from existence anyway.

[ It's something she's tried to come to grips with, but still sometimes it hits her. How after everything, she'll probably never know if they succeeded in their mission. If they finally made the world a better place. ]

[ Yeah, probably. ]

You're assuming that you're from the original timeline. And that anything we did made a difference.

[ There are so many questions he has from that time. Questions nobody will ever be able to answer. Every time he thinks about it he gets a headache. Fucking time travel. ]

I'm going for a swim.

[ He heads for the pool. ]

[ Anything they did would change the timeline, that's how it worked. You change one small thing and an entire city could collapse, or maybe just a single butterfly dies. Whichever it was, she wasn't supposed to see the outcome. She'd agreed to help because it was the only choice they had left, and the process had already begun. It wasn't really a choice at all, actually...

A few seconds pass as she watches him leave, then she turns to gather her things. She'll be gone before he's finished. ]

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

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