reverielogs | I got a new way to live in the storm

» WHO? ~~Magneto~~ Henryk Gurszky & YOU (three open prompts, two closed)
» WHEN? Month of May, after the initial arrival
» WHERE? Various locations around the station
» WHAT? Some things Erik will be doing around the station during the month that your character can get involved with if it sounds interesting.
» WARNINGS? None now, and don't expect to need any. If shit gets weird I'll edit this to reflect that.

Who's gonna steam up all your dance halls (Pool Cleaning) Open

[ Erik stands at the edge of the pool, regarding the stagnant, stinky depths with undisguised disgust. He has a small bag of hand tools, mostly scavenged but a few he made out of scraps, on the floor at his feet. At the moment, it appears that he isn't doing anything, just lifting his hand at a slight angle and staring at the pool. He's searching the drainage system, making sure all the parts are able to move, and identifying where the blockages are.

This is going to be disgusting. ]

Who'll put your lilies in a vase (Door Opening) Open

[ After the conversation in the mess hall with Hermione, Erik wastes no time in finding the door she described on Deck 4. It's just as she said: locked tight. And a window revealing some kind of control room. It doesn't look big enough to be the main control room for the station, at least by Erik's estimation. Perhaps it's some kind of satellite location*. This should make it different from the other doors, again in Erik's estimation. So he sets to trying to pick the lock.

His hand hovers over the lock, fingers moving as he tries to find the tumblers and direct them in the right direction. He grits his teeth. This is harder than he expected. ]

When all the good men have had all their daughters (Playing Chess) Open

[ All work and no play, or whatever. He has downtime sometimes and doesn't sleep much. So when the mess hall is empty he carefully marks a chess board on one of the tables. Not too big, just big enough for two people to sit across from each other and play. The squares are marked by being either much shinier than the rest of the table, or much more matte. For the pieces he takes a couple place settings of silverware and makes them into hollow pieces just big enough to tell what they are. And magnetizes them so they don't float away.

This might be hard to explain if anybody really tries to press him on it. But stranger things have already happened on the station, so he's hoping anybody who notices just takes it in stride. He looks up when somebody else enters the mess, not smiling but his expression softer than usual. Also he's wearing his new casual clothes: a red plaid flannel shirt over a white tshirt and jeans. It's the small things that keep you going. ]

Fancy a game?

All the other men have fallen in with daisies (Roommate Meeting) Closed to Hawkeye

[ He returns to his room eventually. With a peace offering of a bottle of whiskey that's slightly less terrible than the rest of the bar stock. His reaction to Hawkeye's makeshift clinic wasn't the best, and now that there is a facility somewhere else for that sort of thing he feels the need to try to ease the tension somewhat. Luckily, Hawkeye seems like the sort of man for whom a bottle of liquor goes a long way on that front. ]

So what do you think about this roster business? Can't say I'm terribly impressed.

Well I don't wanna be the last one standing (Mutant Meeting) Closed to Rogue, Pietro, and Tommy

[ He might not know what all the acronyms and emoticons mean yet, but he has figured out how to send a private group text. Be proud of him, Steve. ]

Come to my quarters as soon as possible. We need to talk.

I don't wanna reach the bitter end (Wildcard)

[ Anything else you want to do with this guy that I haven't provided a prompt for? Go wild! Feel free to hit me up on

Barbeauxbot if you want to brainstorm first. ]

*Heh.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ And she does nothing to conceal that seething anger, concentrated on maintaining its simmer and blinded to his the subtle suit of control he's woven around himself of the same cloth. She accepts his invitation, however unneeded, with a jerky nod and a flex of her fingers. Normally, she would advise him to stand back. Lorna skips right to leering at the door, raising her palm past the lock to shove at the centre with intangible force. Green light threads around her fingers and the door frame, both sources bursting as Lorna clenches her teeth. The door doesn't even groan.

Frustrated, she calls to any metal that will listen on the other side. A drawer, losing its paper content in a fluttering mid-air stream, flies toward the glass and clatters to the ground without making so much as a crack. There's a little scratch, if one squints. ]

Come on! [ She smacks at the same spot the drawer hit. Same type of metal as the door, she's pretty sure, which hasn't started to make sense, as often as she's encountered this kinda thing. ]

[ Erik watches, intensely interested but keeping his expression neutral. The raw power she wields is impressive. She could do with a little finesse but such things are far more easily taught.

He examines the door after she's done for the moment. Almost entirely unperturbed by what had to have been a significant amount of force. ]

You scratched the paint.

[ It's part encouragement, part an attempt at humor to break some of the tension. He steps back from the door and looks at her again. ]

How are you doing that? Is it some sort of telekinesis? Gravity manipulation?

[ He knows how she's doing it. He doesn't know how honest she'll be with him. ]

[ Her gaze snaps to him while she continues to work out if he's being patronizing or quote-unquote charming. Encouragement glances right off her, this station and its weird metal forcing her to accept a stalemate. Which she infamously sucks at doing. Lorna huffs, setting her weight on her back heel and glaring at the glass again, this time like it should get a job. ]

No, just metal. [ Which is surely the reason she's here, so why hide it? They clearly already drugged her with something already. She'd rather be experimented on to her face. ] Magnetic fields, actually. So I guess we're floating through space in a giant aluminum can.

[ Quote-unquote charming is what he's aiming for, at least. Her explanation interests him even more. ]

Mine work the same way.

[ He's going out on a limb, because she hasn't actually said she's a mutant. But even if her abilities came from some source other than the X-Gene he can't help himself. He's never met anybody who could do what he did. ]

I don't think it's aluminum. I think there's something in the locks that is completely inert to whatever force I can exert on it. Plastic, ceramic, glass, stone, I can't get in there to even test the materials.

[ He glances at her sidelong. There's something familiar about her but its alluding him. ]

When did you arrive, if you don't mind me asking?

[ Lorna blinks at his casual confession of his abilities. "Mine" rings with mutation, asserted possession very unlike the misunderstanding with which the cheerleader tried to explain her powers. Not that struggling with your gifts makes you any less mutant, but owning them gives off a real specific vibe. Call it a gut feeling 'cause those are usually right for Lorna. The M word floats between them almost tangibly but neither of them grab at it. Lorna crosses her arms, weight shifted to one hip. ]

Couple days ago. I'm Polaris. [ Then uncrossing her arms, she offers a hand for a good solid shake. Mutants Unite. (In her defense, she would susepct the obvious if he didn't look a decade too young to be her biodad. The disparate years that people arrive from has yet to come up.) ]

Polaris. [ He smiles slightly. There's a poetry in the name that tells of being a mutant. The names the others use are all so plebeian. They have no sense of style.

More convinced than ever that his instincts are right, he takes her hand and gives her his real name. ]

Magneto.

[ Lorna scoffs, crossing her arms upon withdrawing her grip. The gall of this place. ]

Right, okay. [ She's overfull of smarmy incredulity and casts the excess aside with a double-edged smirk. Okay, she'll play along. No one would have to get into her head to know she'd be affected by the name of a prominent mutant figure so if this is a play by whoever brought her here, it's not an aggressive one. ] And I guess the X-Men are here too?

[ It should be expected that his name would carry weight. It already has with Rogue. Polaris is similarly unimpressed. Erik hopes he hasn't done something to her in the future as well. (Tenses. Erik hates time travel.)

Her question perplexes him. ]

I'm not sure why that would follow. There are two other mutants on the station that I'm aware of. One, Rogue, used to be a member. Pietro was in the Brotherhood.

[ Friggin' Pietro is here? Quicksilver? And Rogue? Which is an odd selection, no shade. If Magneto was the hook, the line and sinker still have to be coming. ]

The Brotherhood bailed. Along with the X-Men. Shit hit the fan, and you all just-- [ She stops herself before she buys into it purely out of spite, eyelids clamping shut. She let go of that anger some time ago. Its spectre exists as a reflection upon herself, her failures since she first started picking up the pieces left behind by their leaders. With a curt exhale, she resumes the hard, mistrusting stare previously reserved for the door. ] I'm not getting into this. So you can move metal. I know a telepath with a trust fund, doesn't make her Professor X.

No, it wouldn't. Not unless some rather significant things had changed for Charles since I saw him last.

[ He doesn't address her stories of the X-Men and the Brotherhood disappearing. Not yet, anyway. The girl's reaction to his name is strange to him. Almost accusatory, but not in the way he expected it might be. ]

Do you think I'm lying? What possible benefit would that serve? If I was to use a false name I'd choose one with a slightly better reputation. Or at least a less infamous one.

[ Lorna clenches her teeth, begrudging him the validity of his point. All of this can't be for her, it can't be this direct and this circuitous at the same time. Even if SENTINEL got the funding and tech to pull off a space station (or convincing enough set) they wouldn't then fumble the ball ten yards from touchdown, not all on their own. That and at least one human would have gone out of his way to brag his ass off by now. ]

Let's pretend I believe you. When did you wake up here?

[ His question seems to derail whatever temper she was about to launch into, which is good. While he is probably the one on the station best equipped to deal with the fallout of a magnetic tantrum, he really doesn't need the headache. ]

I arrived a few weeks ago. The rest of you have been trickling in since then. A few have left as well. Going back home, with any luck. Though I haven't been able to determine how, just yet. What year was it when you left?

I got a new way to live in the storm

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