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

Then I apologize for taking the mystery out of her future. [Except he isn't. If this man is from a world where his mother is young enough not to know the life-span she has ahead, he'd rather she had some kind of warning.

Kurt doesn't quite smile at the information, but there's a tiny bit of warmth in his expression that wasn't there before. He could try to hide it, maybe should try, but it could be useful letting this Erik know that he thinks fondly of his counterpart.] I wondered. You have the same face as a man I know, but the hair's all wrong. Still brown, to begin.

Compared to other futures I've heard of, I don't mind. [A long life would be better than the fate that had once awaited her. Whether he'd ever have a chance to mention this to Mystique was another matter. She would be within her rights to never talk to him again.]

I have heard from at least one other person here that they were used to me being much older. And grey.

Any of those less fortunate futures involve her? [The question sounds casual, polite. It isn't as important to Kurt as it might be, considering the subject; his own mother has been missing since the first war, vanished again after a disagreement. Not unusual, but when she didn't show for his wedding or his wife's funeral, Kurt didn't need to see a body to know what had happened.]

Older and grey and with a young wife, yes. [Now he does smirk, mischief lighting his eyes. The troll can't be suppressed for long.] The Erik I knew went grey at a young age, so unless you're much vainer than he..

Not anymore. [That's a guess. But he knows well enough what the criteria was to change the Sentinel future - stop Mystique from killing Trask. That was done. Whether it was enough was anyone's guess. For now, he chooses to assume it was enough to prevent that particular future. He'll only know for sure when he hits ninety years old.

That comment is what finally throws him for a loop. Enough to distract him entirely from the hair-dye insinuation.] --a wife? [Considering his current romantic life, that was just about the last thing he expected to hear.]

Good. I'm aware the differences in worlds are such that she may never produce me in yours, but in mine she was a good mother to me.

[Said grin widens at Erik's befuddlement, lighting his face.] Mhm. My sister; apparently you were fond enough of the family you decided to marry into it.

[Oh what tangled reality webs we weave. He shakes his head, not so much in disbelief but out of a need to just physically do something to regain his grip on the conversation.]

I've certainly been busy, in these other lifetimes.

[Now he's chuckling, low and somehow rusty sounding, but genuine amusement. His respect for his Erik wouldn't have kept him from teasing the man, so no shelter for this one.]

Haven't we all? I've heard stories about other versions of myself that would curl your hair. Well, would if you were familiar with me, which I assume you weren't before now.

I wasn't, beyond speaking to another boy here who looks remarkably like you.

[And he's wondering now just what the relation might be.]

I've heard of him. Suppose I'll need to seek the boy out, if he doesn't find me first.

[No clarification from this corner, sorry Erik.]

[No matter. Just about every mutant he's met here is a mystery to Erik. This is just one additional layer, that he'll find out about later.]

Since you broadcast all over the Fleet's network, I doubt it will take long.

Perhaps. I don't know that in his place I wouldn't prefer to wait and confront someone so similar to myself face to face instead. Less eyes and ears to observe.

I couldn't say. [He doesn't know the boy that well.] But it could be a few days yet before you're moved onto a ship anyone can access in person. That's how it works.

There's a way of making these communicators talk one-on-one, only you have to know the other person's frequency first.

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