driftfleet | eins (video/action)

Who: Darkholme and whomsoever dares.
Broadcast: Fleet-wide
Action: Marsiva
When: March 4th

Broadcast (can also be an action option for anyone close enough to hear the racket):
[The communicator comes online in the middle of clattering to the floor, bouncing and skidding until it ends up wedged against something that props it at an odd angle. Most of what it shows is a bland view of the ceiling, though the audio of a heavily-accented German voice grumbling is clear as a bell.]

Goddammit, what part of let me d--what the? [There' s a loud implosion of air, with a similar bamf sound echoing further away. The voice mutters something, words indistinct but tone harsh. The clarity increases with the volume as the owner of the voice begins to swear emphatically, lapsing halfway through into truly inventive German, punctuated by the sounds of clattering and movement. Someone just realized his swords are missing.]

Action:
[Sometime after he's calmed down (and hopefully found the communicator/been given a heads-up on the situation, Kurt temporarily gives up on retrieving his swords and goes exploring his temporary home. Feeling vulnerable without his weapons and with a distinct lack of shadows to blend in to, he opts to scurry along the ceiling on fours in lieu of using the floor like a normal person. It also lets him inspect the ceiling for visible cameras, ventilation shafts, wiring, or anything to give him information about their captors' technology level.

Occasionally he stops near one of the huge windows, the view catching his attention even after he's given up on recognizing any of the stars. Kurt's been in space before, but never for long and always too busy fighting to get a good look at the sky. His own world is so polluted with the aftermath of two wars that the stars are hazy--and that's on the clear nights. It's not a good time to catch him on the floor, but it is a good one to catch his attention without interrupting anything.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The comm's been full of surprises lately. Kurt thought he had braced himself for anything. But all of that changed when he looked into the video feed of the comm and saw a very unusual sight. It almost looked like what he'd see in the mirror. But older, and scarred. Cool. But scary, too.]

What the...?

[It's almost like he projected an echo of the other him's words. Just a younger and lighter-sounding echo... and one wrought with even more hesitation and confusion.]

[His stomach lurches when he hears that voice. He'd already been warned by Kitty that there was a younger version of himself on board, but he'd irrationally hoped to have a little more time to steel himself. For a moment he considers just turning the thing off, or ignoring the response altogether. But he can't avoid the boy forever.

At least the accent dispels any lingering chance he might've been Waggoner; that boy had been raised in the States. Darkholme isn't certain how he feels about that. Taking a steadying breath, he perches on a table to address his counterpart.] Hallo boy.

[The similarities are still striking, that it gives him chills when the other man finally speaks. The possibilities race through his mind. The idea that this could be another him is one of them; but he also wonders if perhaps he's some lost relative. Could he have a cousin... or is his birth father more like he imagined?

There's an odd fear holding Kurt back, but he manages to slowly raise a three-fingered hand in greeting, and he speaks.]

Um... Hi. [Hesitantly, he carries on.] ...I'm sorry. Do we... know each other?

[It's oddly comforting to see the boy acting as hesitant as he feels. Gott, he can't have been that young when he joined the X-Men (yes he was.)]

Yes and no. [He offers what he hopes is a gentle, albeit thin, smile.] My name is Kurt Darkholme, but on the field I'm known as Nightcrawler.

[Kurt Wagner's eyes do widen at the mention of the name 'Darkholme', with a sort of vague fear.

He remembers that name very well; Mystique used it when she was their principal. Before everything became so much more complicated... before she turned out to be her mother and was destroyed.]

Darkholme... [He whispers his name back to himself, before he shakes his head to snap himself out of it.] Nevermind.

My... my name is Kurt Wagner.

...

...

On the field, I'm also known as Nightcrawler. [He can't even manage to add any sort of a 'nice to meet you'.]

[That look on his own face actually hurts. He hadn't expected it to, the boy was old enough to go to war. He wasn't Waggoner, young enough to still be soft of face and fur. Kurt still drops his eyes, his lips pressing together briefly against the insane urge to apologize. Why the hell should he; never once has he for being the man he is, not even to the darling Meggan.

He looks back up when the boy--Wagner after all--mentions his code name.] Kurt Wagner too, hmm? I heard that name before here, when I traveled to a parallel world. Would I be correct if I assumed you were raised by a very kind woman in Germany, maybe traveling with a circus?

Kurt Wagner, too. [He repeats hesitantly, completely confused about the significance of their connection. But part of what he says doesn't sound right, and he softly shakes his head.]

I... I think you might have stopped in the wrong world, my friend. I was raised by a very kind couple, but- but I've never been part of a circus. It was just... a quiet home in the country.

[No magical circuses for him.]

I know. The Kurt Wagner I knew of was around my age, give or take a few years. A few physical differences, too. [It took him a few minutes what with the smaller screen and the loss of detail that brings with, but he has noticed the difference in their eyes. And the hair of course, but he used to wear his long too.

The bit about the countryside gets his attention, though.] Same as me. I was raised by my mother away from the world. [He assumes the name would make that information less of a shock, given how the boy reacted to it.]

...I see. [He collects that information quietly, from that man who seems really be another him after all. It's like looking into a really weird mirror, with a mish-mash of similarities and differences. And a tattoo.] I guess there's a few of me... of- of us... running around out there.

[He scratches at his head uncertainly, with a light frown as he tries to process all of this.

The mention of being raised by his mother is significant. Combined with his last name, it brings some odd sense of hope towards an idea that he lost hope for so long ago. Could this other him really be the answer to that question?]

Y-your mother. So she... she's someone who goes by the name of Darkholme?

[What if she kept me?]

Not uncommon, from what I've been told. I've met one myself; young boy, maybe as young as twelve. He went by Kurt Waggoner. [The boy had been so excited to meet another version of himself, and Darkholme had pushed him away for fear of somehow tainting the child. He's still deciding whether to take that path with this one.

The question gets an inclination of his head.] She is. Is that name familiar to you? [Given that reaction Darkholme already knows the most literal answer to that question, but not the details of the association. With how guileless this boy appears to be, he wonders if he'll even need to ask to get that answer.]

It's new to me. [That's all he can manage, quietly.

Then he looks more conflicted as he considers the name, and all of the mixed emotions that come with it. Anger, confusion, frustration, hope. Mourning. It's a wonder that he can think to turn on a private filter before he goes on.]

It... it is. [He shakes his head.] Someone used that name once. [There's a pause before he can get himself to say it aloud.] My real mother.

Raven Darkholme. If ever she had a middle name I never knew it. [He doesn't know if that's even her birth name, or if she even remembers her birth name. His mother had been alive for a long time when she had him.] Powerful shapeshifter with limited immortality and regenerative capabilities.

Seemingly incapable of birthing anything but sons. [That was.. true, but meant as a joke. It flops, for the same reason Darkholme had defaulted to reciting her powers like rank and serial number; the pain of missing his mother took him by surprise. It's been literal years since she vanished, using the chaos of the final battle to disappear. She never even met his wife.] I take it you have a complicated relationship--with the idea of her, if not the woman herself.

It... it sounds like who I'm talking about, yeah. Except I'm her only son... I think. [He pauses a little, in hurt confusion as he sorts through all that.] Plus she's usually blue... and answers to Mystique.

[It's painful to remember her and what happened to her. And all of those tangled feelings surrounding all of that. But, he speaks.]

Complicated... yeah. That sums it up. Or, well, it wasn't even really a relationship until recently. That's when I found out who she was. [First that she was their enemy, and then that she was his mother.] She's... she's not on our side.

eins (video/action)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Private

Private

Private