Windrose, where the wind blows

[tothefly]

Who: Windrose crew and you, distinguished visitors!
Broadcast: Naaah.
Action: Windrose, various points in the near vicinity
When: Until we get off this frozen rock

[On New Year's Day, the crew on board the Windrose and those nearby may notice the chill as the doors to the cargo bay are left open, and their captain making quite a bit of noise as she inspects their newly expanded home away from home. This is likely to go on for a while. Feel free to come investigate, chat among yourselves, complain about the cold, etc!]

Comments

[touchofrogue]

Mmm. [Rogue shook her head.] Nah, it's just a secondary physical mutation. Doesn't even do anythin' useful.

[But okay, let's stay on point here:] But I'd say there are more than... two thirds of us who don't show any physical mutations at all. An' the thing is, powers usually don't hit until puberty. So - imagine you're one of the lucky ones, an' your power doesn't hurt anyone the first time it comes out. Maybe ya just walk through walls, or maybe ya start runnin' fast as lightning or maybe it's voices - ya start hearin' other people's thoughts. [Now was normally when she would say 'what do you do' except she knew two things about Natasha Romanoff 1) you did not get to be a superspy without a finely honed ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes, she did not need to try to lead her in empathy for her situation 2) Natasha's own teenage years had been a nightmare of epic proportions; she would have no idea what it truly meant to be normal one day and be terrified of yourself the next, there was no point of reference, she wasn't going to try to make one.] It's a mess. An' ya think you're the only one in the world goin' through somethin' like what's happenin' ta you.

But the thing is - ya ain't. [A pause as she shakes her head.] An' if you're real lucky, ya don't have ta find that out the hard way.

[tothefly]

[She can....well, she can't imagine. It wasn't like that for her, just waking up one day with her own specific talents, not knowing the scope or limit of them. She'd known, maybe not from the beginning, but by the time she'd started the more specialized training, what she would be doing, what she'd be capable of doing. The Red Room may have made her, but she's the one who's chosen to stay that person, in the ways that count. Rogue would be right. There's no frame of reference, but she can understand, intellectually, what that would do to a normal person.]

I take it there isn't much of a support network for new mutants, back home, then.

[In fact, she's pretty sure it's something along the lines of government labs and human experimentation, and that's just the start.]

[touchofrogue]

[A support network. Rogue almost laughs. She can picture the after school specials now: And remember, kids, if this happens to you just call 1-800-XPERMENTONME.]

Not so much. But this has been goin' on long enough now that there are groups of older mutants who've survived long enough ta build a... quiet kind of underground power base. Those groups are mostly split up into two camps. There's the sort who've had so much exposure ta the nastier sides of human nature that they're convinced the only way mutants will ever live in peace is if humans are shown, firmly, that their place is under us. [She had some empathy for Erik Lehnsherr. It was hard not to, she'd touched the man after all, she knew what he'd been through. She also knew he was completely batshit, had tried to mind whammy her, and exposed mutants to the world when they'd been doing Just Fine at keeping that secret in order to spur on his war, thank you so much, Buckethead.] An' then there's the sort who are so stupidly hopeful that even though they know humanity's got difficulty dealin' with different skin colors, that there might be a way through the utter mess of fear an' pride ta find a way to just... live in peace.

[tothefly]

[So, not that different from most groups of individuals in her time and world. The one camp who want righteous vengeance, for their group to be superior, taking revenge for years of oppression and maltreatment at the hands of a declared enemy. The camp who wants peace, love and joy, and believe that diplomacy and the better parts of human nature will triumph over all. And she's gonna bet there's a third group in there, a silent minority who just want to live their lives without fear of a lynch mob, who regardless of whether they have yellow eyes or a talent for breathing underwater are just normal people doing normal things, wanting a normal life.]

Did you fall in with either camp?

[She won't assume. This is Rogue's story. Natasha is here to listen, not to tell it for her.]

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue's eyebrows arch slightly at the question, but it wasn't a bad sort of surprise. It was better to be asked, she supposed.]

Both. 'Fall in' is kinda a... funny way ta put it. [Rogue glances away for a moment and runs a gloved hand through her hair.] When ya don't understand what's happenin' to ya, an' ya think folk are out ta kill ya, it's easy ta take the first hand that offers to help.

[There was no driving ideology about her initially joining in with either group. Rogue just wanted to survive. She looks back at Natasha.] Turns out though, that that particular group was run by liars who also didn't really care who lived or died, as long as they got what they wanted. When I joined the X-Men, I'd burned my bridges behind me, didn't have any other place ta go. But they were good people, they looked out for each other... An' if I had ta be on the side of someone's vision for the world, I'd rather it be the kind that lifts people up rather'n puts them down.

[They were small words to indicate just how deeply Rogue now did believe in Xavier's dream, but she knew it for what it was: a dream. What of it? The world was shaped by dreams.]

[tothefly]

[Again, intellectually, she understands that. If something is happening that you don't understand and someone offers you answers, it's easier to accept that than to question it. Easier to take that hand than to wonder what's in the other. No, there's no shame in that. The real trial comes later, when you really understand the answers and make your choice. Listening, she nods, and while there's no distinct approval in her expression--it isn't her place here to judge Rogue for her actions, not when she's done things for survival herself that many people would frown on--there's some slight warmth in her voice, a subtle tone that denotes understanding.]

You do what you have to to survive. Take whatever hand you have to. After that--if you can make that choice--well, we've all got our reasons. A dream of peace and understanding isn't a bad one. Impractical, maybe. Idealistic. But not bad.

[And one she shares, in her way. Everyone has to choose a side for something, sometime. She and Rogue might be from very different backgrounds, but they'd both made a similar choice. Fought for the wrong, made an active decision to set things right.]

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue shrugs a little.] Dreams aren't practical, as a rule. Charles Xavier's a good man. He ain't a perfect one, but he tries ta work by the light he has. He did a lot for me, takin' me in, lettin' me be one of the team from the get-go.

[When the world hates and fears you, you really have one of three choices 1) Screw the world, look out for number one. 2) Dominate. 3) Dream the impossible dream.

When the world hates and fears you, it doesn't just leave you alone to live your life. That was sadly never an option.]

Ya kinda 'met' one of my teachers, as I recall.

[When you touched the knife.]

[tothefly]

Perfect men are rarely good.

[It isn't hard to figure out exactly what Rogue means. After all, of all the experiences she'd had in the woman's...mindspace, she supposed would be the best term, most of them were Rogue's alone. There was only the one slightly alien perspective she'd encountered, on touching the knife. This, definitely, she's very curious about, but at least she's being polite about it. Guiding the conversation, not steering it.]

With the knife. I was wondering about that.

[It isn't often you meet someone with an entirely different set of sense memories in their head, after all.]