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Post by Storm on Oct 13, 2010 16:57:12 GMT -4
It had been a week and she was still adjusting. Little more than a week ago she had been special, a Goddess, revered and worshipped by many, but now that had all changed. Mutants. She was a mutant. Her powers were not a gift of the Gods but something far less unique, born within her.
She was no longer unique.
She was no longer alone.
It was silly to think it. She had been surrounded by people, loyal subjects who loved her as much as they feared her, but she had been alone. They worshipped her for what she provided, for what she could do. They revered her for her power, for the rain she provided for their crops and the protection for their families. They loved her for what she was... but not who she was.
None of them knew her, they knew nothing about her. They came to her when they needed her help. They brought her gifts, offerings, when they needed her powers. None of them knew Ororo Munroe, none of them loved her, they needed her. No, they needed the Goddess that they thought she was. None of them knew her.
She was not sure she knew herself anymore.
Swooping in through the open window, her bare feet touched down lightly upon the wooden floor, her dark skin still warm from the sun. It was much colder here than her homeland, but one of the many advantages of her powers was that the changes in temperatures never bothered her. Her powers. Her mutant powers. Closing the window with a mere flick of her hand, a commanded gust of wind, she lowered her body upon the window seat, her long white tresses falling all about her bare shoulders, back and chest, solid white eyes becoming clear blue once more as she looked around at her new home.
She had been offered the attic loft, closer to the sky and the wind and the elements. It had been a greenhouse of sorts, but poorly tended so it only housed a few scraggly plants. In the short time she had been there she could already see improvements in them as she slowly nursed them back to health, and she had plans to add to their numbers, to transform this whole room into a wilderness that she could lose herself in.
She just had to find herself first.
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Post by Logan on Oct 14, 2010 10:58:55 GMT -4
There just weren’t enough places to go to get away from the damn kids. Logan had been a loner for so long that sometimes being at a school like this was…well, it was enough to make him want to escape to an unoccupied attic for some stinkin’ solitude. And it mostly worked, though he could still smell them, and worse yet hear them.
This whole transition had been a little more difficult than he usually let on. Going on several weeks here at the Institute Logan felt that confusing feeling that he just didn’t fit in and that he had been there his whole life.
With his cowboy hat tipped forward, Logan had been lying on a dusty couch in the corner having a little siesta when he heard the window blow open, and felt a cool wind brush through the room. And he smelled something that was vaguely…
Logan slowly tipped his hat back and watched as a vision of loveliness descended wearing nothing but a cool breeze. She was older than most of the brats here. Definitely a woman. Not wanting to spoil the moment, he didn’t say anything until her eyes found him.
“Mornin’,” he said as he propped his head up a little with a hand behind his neck. “If this is tha new dress code, I’m likin’ it.”
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Post by Storm on Oct 15, 2010 17:46:57 GMT -4
There was someone here; she felt it a moment before her eyes found him. Watching him a moment while he lay still, she was instantly on her feet again when he suddenly spoke. Charles Xavier had given her several gifts upon their meeting, just as many as she felt he had taken from her. She was no longer unique, but she was no longer alone either. Everything she had known, had believed, and everything she thought she was had been false, but he had offered her a chance to discover something new, perhaps a world where she belonged. Along with that, he had given her something a bit more tangible in a sense, something that had gone a long way in convincing her that he spoke only truth: he had given her the gift of language. He did not speak her language, but she understood him; she should not have been able to speak his, but suddenly she could. Perhaps she had been hiding out since arriving, but in situations like the current one she now faced, this gift was most welcome.
Even so, she did not quite understand the little man’s words. She understood the words well enough, but not their meaning. Her brow furrowing she blinked, blue eyes going white once more.
“Who are you and why are you here?” she demanded, her voice strong, regal, obviously accustomed to giving commands. She had been told that this space would be her sanctuary, her own private space, and she did not appreciate having it invaded.
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Post by Logan on Oct 19, 2010 8:56:17 GMT -4
Logan lay still, one boot crossed over the other while the newcomer rose to her full majestic glory. He kept his eyes on hers even as they turned whiter than her hair and seemed to pulsate with a hidden light from within. The air seemed to change around him, though Logan couldn’t exactly tell how. He didn’t need to know how. All he knew was that it was crackling with power.
“You must be tha newcomer,” he said slowly with a wry grin on his face. Holding up his hands to show he wasn’t here to cause any harm, he sat up straight. “Name’s Logan,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat back out of his eyes.
She was beautiful for sure. Deadly beautiful.
“And I guess I’m here for tha same reasons you are,” he added. “To find answers.” Reaching over slowly, he plucked a longneck out of a half depleted case near the couch. “And ta get away from all tha damn noise.”
Extending out the cold beverage in an offering to her, he raised his brows.
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Post by Storm on Oct 19, 2010 18:58:14 GMT -4
She watched him quizzically as he held up empty hands and moved to sit up, pushing back his hat so that she could see his eyes. Listening closely to his words, she felt a strange pang in the pit of her stomach. How quickly she had forgotten: this was not her home. She had been given use of this room, but it was not hers. This building, this city, even these plants; none of them were truly hers. She was not revered here, people did not cower before her nor tremble at the thought of approaching her place on high to speak with her. Why should they not dare enter here?
“Answers?” Ororo repeated, relaxing her stance just slightly. She no longer looked like a cobra ready to strike, but her back remained straight, her head high. “To what questions?”
She had been asking why he was in this very room, and she did not understand what he meant. What answers could he expect to find here? What answers did he think she expected to find?
Looking down at the bottle he held toward her she shook her head, eyes returning to their unusual blue, but then much of her appearance was unusual.
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Post by Logan on Oct 20, 2010 10:07:05 GMT -4
“All questions,” Logan said with a shrug as he withdrew the rejected offer of a cold one. She seemed to be relaxing a little, but he could still feel a proverbial storm brewing on the horizon. “Least all tha important ones.”
A single metal claw slid out of the knuckles on his right hand. He kept his eyes on her while using it to pop the cap off the longneck. The claw slid back in and the flesh closed up behind it, leaving no evidence that it had ever happened.
He knew he wasn’t the only one with questions. He could see it in her eyes. She was unaccustomed to having much interaction like this. She was used to being in authority. It radiated off of her and she wore it well. And that’s all she wore.
Logan took a swig off the bottle while a moment of silence stretched out between them. He wasn’t sure how much Xavier had told her about where she was going, but evidently he forgot to mention the part where this school was filled with adolescent males like Wagner and Drake. No doubt there’d already been sightings of the flying naked chick.
Setting the bottle down, he sighed and unbuttoned his shirt. He removed it, leaving only a sleeveless white undershirt in its place.
“Here,” he said holding it out for her. “Not that ya have anything to be ashamed of…but tha young boys here would be even more worthless than usual if ya walked around in tha buff like that.” He diverted his eyes as he held it out for her.
“So what should I call you?”
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Post by Storm on Oct 26, 2010 16:01:50 GMT -4
The little man spoke quite cryptically, and while Professor Xavier had given her the gift of language and understanding it was still quite proper and basic. She would have much preferred everyone speak plainly what was truly on their minds. She had little time to ponder what questions he was referring to, though. Her eyes immediately snapped down to his hand, the glint of metal drawing her attention. A long spear was extending slowly from his hand, and her first instinct was to attack before he could harm her, but she managed to quell that instinct, that fury only offset by the tiniest hint of fear. As a Goddess she had been unafraid, there had been no need for it, but as a mutant she was not immortal.
Electrostatic crackled at her fingertips, barely noticeable to anyone with normal senses, and if he moved to attack she could create a ball of lightening to stop him in his tracks. There was no attack or aggression, though. He merely used the blade to open his drink before it slid back into his hand, leaving not even a mark nor a spot of blood behind. It was fascinating, and Ororo’s eyes followed his hand a moment longer even as he fell back into a more normal routine.
Then he started unbuttoning his shirt.
Ororo did not understand why the people here felt the need to constrict themselves so. If they wore clothing for warmth, that she could understand, even if her powers meant she never had the need, but that was not the case. For one to remove theirs in the presence of another only tended to have a few meanings to them, and her guard flew back up again until Logan merely held the shirt out to her. Slowly she reached out and took it.
“I am Ororo,” she answered, slipping the shirt on over her arms before lowering her head to focus on the buttons. “But your professor also felt fit to call me Storm.” The shirt was obviously ill fitting. Logan was much broader than her, so it was wide and baggy on her slim frame, but she was much taller than he. The sleeves did not even reach her wrists, and the bottom hem barely fell low enough to be decent.
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Post by Logan on Nov 1, 2010 8:45:47 GMT -4
Storm.
For a second there Logan had thought he’d smelled ozone in the air. It seemed to make sense, and at least gave him a small hint at what it was that she could do. “Nice ta meet ya, ‘Ro,” he said glancing back over at her as she finished up with the last few buttons. Somehow covering her up as little as it did, the shirt only managed to heighten the mystery.
Logan smirked as he took another swig. Having her around was sure going to make things interesting. At the very least it was going to be amusing. But something told Logan that at the drop of a hat it could go from amusing to downright deadly. If she didn’t even know enough about American culture to know that running around naked was a bad idea…well, there was a lot of room for other similar kinds of misunderstandings.
Sizing her up in silence for a moment, Logan held his ground. He didn’t flinch under her imperial gaze, though he could easily imagine how it would be tempting to do so. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly, but something about her demeanor was…otherworldly.
“Somethin’ tells me you ain’t from Queens. Where did you say Xavier found you again?”
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