Voices from Heaven (
thespaceopera) wrote in
driftfleet2015-10-20 11:18 am
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Entry tags:
- !event,
- ahsoka tano,
- coil lenn,
- margaret "peggy" carter,
- nami,
- natasha romanoff,
- nelkeila tarid,
- nyssa al ghul,
- octavia blake,
- one,
- phèdre nó delaunay de montrève,
- r. daneel olivaw,
- rapunzel,
- remy lebeau,
- riku,
- robin redbreast,
- rogue,
- santanico pandemonium,
- shawn hunter,
- sokka,
- stefan salvatore,
- steve rogers (ou),
- steven quartz universe,
- stiles stilinski,
- syeira,
- tadashi hamada,
- tekhetsio,
- the vision,
- vash the stampede,
- vima sunrider,
- wanda maximoff,
- wrath,
- yamanaka ino
...And also these.
( for N-Z characters )
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[Her fingers twitch involuntarily on the books in her lap, and she faintly feels them constrict, creak, almost like they're covered. Gloves? She's beginning to have some idea whose mind she's in now, and feels as though she might be interrupting. Invading. Forcing her hands to move, she lifts the books, replacing them on the top of the stack, taking a deep breath in and releasing it slowly, waiting for the feeling to lift.]
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There is no other change in the room, the fire flickers in the coffee table, the knife stuck into the end table by Natasha casts a long shadow. The wind has never stopped blowing, and still it howls, whispers, and occasionally rattles the window frame.]
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[The next breath is unfettered by weight, and she is acutely aware of the feeling of her lungs expanding, of a lightness in her shoulders, through her limbs. Her fingers close and open on air. No more gloves. No more of that weight. She hopes the woman this room belongs to doesn't feel that all the time. No one should have to, especially when it's undeserved. She's seen little to indicate any amount of deserving that.]
I'm sorry.
[Sorry Rogue's felt that way, or sorry she's intruded? It could be both. Either way, the words are spoken to the room at large, to wherever the manifestation of Rogue is hiding. Leaning in towards the table, she holds her hands out towards the small glow of warmth.]
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For?
[The flame!Rogue doesn't seem upset or offended, just perhaps a little surprised, as if Natasha had made a remark out of place remark in the midst of a conversation.]
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[She hadn't been expecting a reply, and most definitely not from the fire itself. She withdraws her hands, leans in just a little closer, a little surprised but not very.]
I wouldn't want people poking around in my head without asking permission first.
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Well, that would be a preference. Or... not pokin' around at all would be nice too. But I ain't in much position ta mind it.
[Her job is to play tour guide right now, after all, to facilitate or guard if necessary, just enough to make sure that nothing would get permanently messed up.]
Though if ya want out there are two ways of goin' 'bout it.
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[The comment is almost muttered to herself, followed by a shrug.]
Not that you aren't being perfectly hospitable, but how do I get out?
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[The mirror was shattered, hung in its frame over the mantle. The checkerboard was set to play, already by the window.]
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Guess I've got time for a game or two.
[The mirror is shattered. Reminds her a little too much of parts of her own mind, dusty corners she doesn't explore. But games, on the other hand...she's always been good at games. With a shrug she stands, and heads towards the window, fingers brushing the handle of the knife embedded in the table as she passes it.]
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[The game was the kinder option, really. In her current state, Rogue didn't mind either, but if she remembered she'd be grateful for it later.
As soon as Natasha's hand brushes the handle of the knife, her senses abruptly sharpen, increase to the point where it is immediately noticeable. She's stronger, she sees more sharply, and it's a good thing too. Because the light in the room changes, the colors growing darker. The blankets and other signs of comfort disappear. The guitar beneath the mantle is replaced by a set of katanas, perfectly matched and well-balanced.
A heavy scent of cigar smoke drifts into the room, though there is no cigar present.
And the crackling of the fire may grow louder - or perhaps it is just her enhanced hearing.]
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Don't hold onto it too long. Once he comes out all the way, he's hard ta put back.
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There someone else taking up space in your head?
[Just a question. A valid one, honestly.]
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Kinda. [She raised one hand and see-sawed it back and forth.] It's complicated.
[And since she's in tour-guide mode, Rogue even continues!] It's a lot better'n it used ta be. Used ta be, that wind didn't stay outside.
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[It's not a bad smell. Just...complicated. Like Rogue says. She breathes deeply, noting it; exhales, looking towards the window.]
You learned how to close the window?
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[She keeps moving towards the game she's been promised, but pauses before touching it to look back at Rogue.]
Any surprises here I should look out for?
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[And in this case, that really was all they were.]
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[She's been more or less forthcoming so far, and Natasha is prepared for the possibility that she might not be--or might not be aware of what waits in this game. She's met some of these...avatars, she guesses, who weren't completely aware of the things hidden in their rooms. But there's no other way out, aside from that mirror she doesn't want to touch.]
In my experience, there's not much that's just a game.
[Still, she reaches out. Red. She always plays red, games like this.]
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[And in this case, it's really just a game. Natasha can either bring it over or play against the room. It won't matter who wins or who loses, at the end a puzzle piece would appear by where Natasha sat.]