driftfleet | (no subject)

[He's slightly early. The first days of settling onto the Caprine were busy enough that, in retrospect, he's half glad to have agreed to wait a few days. The other half wishes he could have come straight here instead of dealing with his crew mates at all. Someone might be pissy that they're sharing space with a literal god.

Kurt finds her in the kitchen, stocking the cupboards. At least he hopes she's stocking the cupboards, because if all that's for her then he's seriously considering retreating and trying this again another day. But he who hesitates is lost, and Kurt didn't survive this long by being a man unwilling to take risks. So instead the logical thing to do is walk into the kitchen on nearly silent feet, sneaking up behind his very stabby team-mate. Let's see how close he can get before she notices him?]

[He's probably lucky she doesn't have her claws at the moment, though she's working on that.]

You know it doesn't take someone with Weapon X-level senses to smell sulfur, right? [Not that he reeked of it or anything, but it's a distinct scent and not one she's been around much other than a meeting with his otherworldly counterpart. She turns around to see him—in person. She's still having trouble believing he's here like maybe it's some kind of dream hallucination she's having.]

Edited 2016-03-12 02:42 (UTC)

Was counting on that. [He doesn't get much more loud when she does acknowledge him, his bare feet nearly whisper soft right until he stops, just out of arms-reach. He'd tucked away the uniform he'd been wearing on arrival in favor of one of the jumpsuits provided to them. It's ugly, but it at least isn't made in the image of a dead man (to his knowledge).

It leaves his arms and hands bare, doing nothing to hide the slightly more pronounced hunch to his shoulders or the silvery-looking ring on the last finger of his left hand. It's that hand he extends to her, palm up as though he had something to offer but himself. Behind a vaguely hopeful and soft expression, Kurt's concentrating on not doing something stupid.] Hallo, again. Ease my mind and tell me all that's not for you.

[She turns toward him, guarded at first. She'd had years of reinforcement about always being attentive and alert and not trusting too easily. Piotr had been the final exam in that life lesson and she failed. She needed to do better with her second chance. But she sees that gentle expression on his dark, familiar features, and whatever caution she was employing melts away. Instead of taking his outstretched hand she just bypasses it, pressing in for a much needed hug.

She's met many people here who seem like good or interesting people. She's met many X-Men who aren't her versions, but whose presence are still a comfort. But she hasn't had family here. Not the ones she lost at home. Not the ones she made in the X-Men there and not the one she built in the prison. Not until now with her Kurt.] You can have some. It's for my crew. [And whether they're on a ship together or not he'll always be her crew. Her teammate. Her family.]

[For a heart-stopping second Kurt thinks he's going to shove Kitty like he did her counterpart, only to realize that he's already embracing her tight against himself. One hand flat against her back, the other reaching up to curl fingers through hair that's finally the right length, and his tail snaking around her waist as though he's afraid she'll vanish if he doesn't hold her tightly enough.

His Kitty. His team-mate, his family, warm in his arms when so many (all) of the rest lie cold. Kurt's suddenly grateful for every bit of discipline his mother and Magneto taught him, for if not for that there's a very real chance he'd break down sobbing right here in this strange ship. As it is his breath audibly hitches, and he has to swallow, several times, before he can answer her without choking.] Just a little. I think the kitchen on my ship received the lion's share of upgrades. [He can fault a lot of things ~~judgmental ass~~, but not their priorities.]

[Kitty didn't cry after her students died. She couldn't. There was too much left to accomplish and if she started how would she ever stop? She'd had to harden herself against so many tragedies to just keep going. She didn't cry after she found out what Piotr did or would have done if she hadn't been rescued. That night she forced herself to feel angry instead because it was easier. Because it protected her. She couldn't be vulnerable then.

If this Kurt had arrived at Marina instead while she was in the later days of her prison stay he might have found her crying against his shoulder, but her friends and loves and comforts have been ripped away again and she's steeled herself somewhat against that, but it didn't stop her from embracing him. Or from her heart breaking a little as she hears him struggling to control his voice.

It's okay if she just never lets go, right? They'll just teleport and phase their way through life.]

Smart people. [She hadn't thought at all about helping to improve conditions on her ship, but maybe she should. Maybe there's a reason to stay here in this fleet.]

[Anger was such a useful tool. In the years he'd known her, Kurt had chosen to channel biting humor as his shield against the horrors of their world; laugh at the things done to you, and especially the things you had to do unto them, and you don't go insane. Then there was Linda, who made him want to be better than the cackling furious imp, and when she was gone Bobby was all that could make him genuinely happy again.

Now they're both gone, their entire world is gone, but Kitty is here and breathing. The thought has occurred to him that this can't be real, it has to be the mad hallucinations of a dying brain, but he's not strong enough of a man to reject it. (He's not half as strong a man as he pretended to be.) Kurt's arms shift to hold her just a little tighter, turning his face just enough to bury it in her hair. He can't really say she smells like her, it's been years and he was never her lover to have the smell of her hair memorized, but even so.

Just try getting him to let go, Pryde. He'd have his legs wrapped around her if he didn't possess some vague sense of propriety still.

His chuckle comes as a rusty sound, cracking in the middle.] Or orally fixated ones. Funny, that I should end up on a ship with a well-stocked larder after expressing to LeBeau my concerns about plentiful food and water. [And by funny, he means to bring up obliquely the confirmation that they're being closely monitored. Which in his mind would be obvious, however.] I haven't made the acquaintance of most of them.

Just as good. [She's not even sure she's standing anymore as she leans into him. If he teleported away she'd probably fall over.] The food options here are as good or better than home, but I spent the last year with every food. As much as you wanted whenever you wanted. [It's a good thing she still obsessively trained even with less need for it. The food wasn't her favorite thing about the prison, but it was pretty great. It's also extremely strange to tell anyone you miss a prison, but right now with Kurt here she feels like she's not missing anything.]

[Kurt's not certain either, not that he minds as she weighs about as much as a kitten. The hand on her back starts idly rubbing up and down, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest when she mentions the meals.] Every food, yes? Well that does explain a few things. [The spade of his tail shifts and then starts poking at her stomach and the non-existent fat there. Apparently the years have not killed his impulse to troll people. What was that about not missing anything, Kitty?] I'm a little jealous.

Hey! [She gives him a good nudging for that, but doesn't phase or try to break free.] You should be. I'll take you with me if I find a way back. [Which...she didn't exactly mean to bring up like that, but yes, she's been kind of hoping for a return trip to prison.]

[He takes the nudging with a short laugh and a shorter sound of protest. The grin fades into a thoughtful expression (not that she can see it from this angle), his hand stilling on her back.] That's where you'd want to go, then? Back to the prison you came from.

[She's quiet for a few beats.] I didn't think there was anything to go back to at home but a quick and senseless death. [Maybe a wrong assumption that she'd go back to that moment without time to phase. And definitely the wrong assumption that the timeline would be reset and she'd be gone with it—changed forever as if she never was as she is now.] And the prison... I was leading a team to overthrow things. To stop the abductions and get people home. [Softer.] It felt important. [She's had a little distance now. A month's worth of time in the Fleet and an abundance of X-Men to meet. Her perspective is shifting, but the prison—the people in the prison—are still important to her.]

There are people I care about there. [People she loves. ...That's true here now too.]

[Likewise, Kurt is quiet while she answers, listening with the sort of attentiveness that's gained him information and allies in the past. Being so still and keeping one's face devoid of judgement lets others project what they want onto the blank canvas, but in this moment he's not trying to keep the sorrow or understanding from his expression.] I'm not surprised you were such an influential figure in the prison. I wonder how many others were brought here in the middle of an important task. [It's something to inquire about, perhaps on the Fleet-wide network. Kurt shifts on his feet, turning his head to whisper directly in her ear.] If you find a way back, I'll go with you.

[She squeezes just a little bit tighter. She almost asks if he doesn't want to get home, but he was dying too, wasn't he? Even if things were better like he was saying now, they were still displaced and maybe going back there now after this reprieve doesn't mean death for them anymore, but maybe it does.] Good. [Because at least in this moment she's pretty sure she couldn't go without him and not just because she's fully wrapped up.] I missed you. [Even when she missed everyone it was still an individual thing. Different quirks for each person. She missed specifically him even if she missed generically all of them.]

[There's nothing left to go home to, and he really, really needs to tell her that before too much time elapses. He needs to tell her all of it, including his betrayal of X-Force. But she's so happy to see him, and a part of him is beginning to wonder if he even needs to tell her what he did. No one here seems to know, and even if they did none of them are telepaths. Who would know if he lied and said it didn't happen in his reality?] I missed you too. Gott, I even missed the smell of your cigarettes. [And the flick of her wrist when she brought cigarette to mouth, the way he could see the ballet dancer she'd wanted to be in her movements, and her smiles most of all. One vicious, full of enough teeth to make a man's heart pound, and a softer one with the tenderness she'd managed to keep safe.] How many do you have left?

[She has no idea what he's wrestling with, but her time in the prison taught her things always have a way of coming out. Then again the prison was always pushing for that. Maybe it would be different here as long as no one showed up from the right timeline.

For now she's just unaware as she laughs lightly against him.] Just three. Why didn't I walk around that prison with packs strapped to me? It could have been body armor or something.

Logan gave me a cigar when we met up. [Why yes, she is happy to have Logan—a Logan—back in her life even if his codename is all wrong. It wouldn't be so bad if someone else working for Apocalypse hadn't been calling themselves Wolverine back home.]

[Maybe, but even knowing that's a possibility the allure of having someone look at him like he's still a hero is hard to resist. He can understand now why it hurt his mother so much each time he was horrified by the things she'd done, even if he still thinks she's a coward for running from him after.]

Body armor that protected the rest of us from your wrath. I hope you won't take it as an insult if I make a tactical retreat when you run out?

[That doesn't surprise him, even as a dark part of him wants to snarl at the man. It isn't even him he wants to snatch Kitty away from, but the possibility he holds of becoming what Weapon X did.] I suppose he was close to the Kitty of his world. I didn't have the chance to see them interact before she.. saw me.

You're already in danger, Darkholme. I've been rationing. Didn't even start with a full pack.

[She's starting to relax her hold on him. She might actually want to talk to that face of his.] That was ominous. What happened when she saw you? [She wasn't scared or something stupid and hideous like that was she?]

And here I left my last will and testament in my other uniform.

[He does not want to let her go, but he wants less to make her uncomfortable. Pressing a brief kiss against her temple, Kurt relaxes his arms to let them lean back, the hand that had been cupping her head straightening her hair first. Unfortunate that the first expression she'll probably see on him is a frown.] That's.. part of a very long story, Kitty. Is there anywhere we can speak more privately? [True privacy is a joke with the monitoring inherent in their situation, but he'd rather have the scraps thereof.]

I'll make your wishes known that you wanted people to donate a cigarette in memory of you. [She smiles but it's short lived wondering what this story contains that they need an upgrade in privacy.]

Sure. Let's go to my room. [It's a tight fit in there, but it's private enough and they haven't really been letting a lot of space settle between them anyway. She leads him that way without more comment.]

Cigarettes, hell. Cigarettes and at least one religious institution burnt to the ground.

[He follows without question, featureless eyes flicking around them to take in the surrounding features of the Windrose. Though less tense away from the god he shares living quarters with ~~for now, sob~~ he still doesn't care for being on the ground. Being high is instinct, a comfort in times of stress. So of course he cracks a joke when they come to Kitty's room, motioning for her to enter first.] Leading a married man back to your room? People will start to talk.

Edited (I posted too soon.) 2016-03-22 06:19 (UTC)

That should give them something to do at least. [Look at all the fucks she could give about that as she takes a seat on her bed leaving room for him.]

Long story time? [Should she be worried?]

At least someone will. [Kurt pauses halfway in turning to the wall opposite, eyeing the open patch of bed next to her. Then he steps up to perch there, facing Kitty, and promptly says absolutely nothing.

His face is perfectly neutral, at least his version of. His tail, which normally is only a little less behaved, traces nervous little loops over and over in her bedsheets. When the words come out, they do so all at once.] Kurt Wagner was dead when I went there. I don't think Logan knows.

[So nervous, Kurt.]

Oh. [Softly. She isn't sure how to feel about that. It's so easy to bond with the X-Men here, but she's less sure how to feel about counterparts she's never even met. Still, any world where Kurt has died is a little sadder for it.] So, he didn't recognize you either? You're sure he's the same Logan you met?

He didn't. For his sake, I hope not the same one. [And his own skin.] Apparently he and his world's version of me were exceptionally close all these years.

[Where-as their Logan had run off with Jean during the war, and then been assumed dead before reappearing as Weapon Omega. Kurt shakes his head minutely before continuing.] So were their world's versions of us. No one told her about me before she set eyes on me. No one told me about her. [Softer, he continues.] I wasn't very kind.

Food!

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