driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Everybody who hates this moon! And a few that don't!
Broadcast: Nope
Action: The Good Ship Iskaulit
When: Throughout the Toxic Moon event

[Y'all, Misty can't be the only one who hates this place, so let's all gather on the Iskaulit, safe from all that dark and rot down on the polluted moon and have ourselves a good time!

(Or at least, a pollution-free time).

A list of establishments on the Iskaulit can be found here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From Nightingale's document, it seems like it was a haphazard inclusion in the fleet. Maybe that's why it's so much bigger. I'm sure you noticed the normal ones aren't so spacious.

[ He pauses, long enough to be a little suspicious. ]

Yes, they were . . . slightly smaller.

[It doesn't go unnoticed. Erik glances at him, but leaves it alone for now. The garden isn't far off, and he would rather sit for a while.]

I miss being able to step outside easily, myself. If I want to get off a ship, I have to get in another one and go to either a different ship, or that blasted moon below. I wouldn't think I'd miss that realm-- [Since he knows not to say Nyssa's name] but it was definitely charming in appearance.

You always enjoyed the open spaces.

[ And he knows of Erik's fondness to hunt, to keep himself busy. While Charles might view these as "metal death traps", his own feels aren't so negative. It's a whole new world, with different cultures at his fingertips. It makes him feel slightly more relevant. ]

I do like the idea of cataloging alien life.

Just remember that that alien life might talk back sometimes. I've met a couple on the fleet alone.

The moon below seems to be populated by humans, or something close enough. [But he quiets down as they reach the communal garden at last. Plants, crops and sunlamps abound. It will always be obvious that this is part of a ship, no true outdoors. It's still a welcome patch of greenery.]

Amazing. The idea of humanoid species on other planets is certainly worth finding more about.

[ Theories of evolution bounce around his mind. He shakes them loose, taking in the gardens. Ah. This was truly beautiful. ]

Ah . . . I can see why you might like this place.

[He huffs.] Is it that obvious? [Moving around the edge of the space, he sits down on a chair there.]

Some people tend to this, I think. There's another park that Nightingale started, which she made for pet foxes to run around in. That one has magic snow.

[ His lips twitch. ] A little.

Why am I not surprised? I guess people make the most of a bad situation.

Some have been here for over a year. [It's both information, and a warning. They might be in for a much longer captivity than anything they experienced in the library or Kyriakos.]

[ A year. He wipes his face, thinking about it. Still, he finds himself holding stubborn. ]

Then we'll make sure it doesn't go that far.

Oh, I don't intend for that to happen. [He's considered taking a shuttle and just making a run for it. Fire out into the wide black space and see how far he gets. Food and water are the main dealbreakers in that plan, and he's less keen to be that reckless now that Charles and Hank are here. A week ago? He was still thinking of trying it.]

There is always a way out.

Always.

[ Neither of them will budge on that. ]

[There's a quiet sense of agreement.

And then Erik is looking at him, unblinking. It's a familiar look, searching, and quite ready to hook on any hint of inner turmoil that Charles is so adept at hiding.

It's not a challenge. Not the way it had been at times in the past. It is, in its own way, an offered hand.]

[ He doesn't say anything at first, before covering his mouth with his hands, a silent sigh. ]

I saw her. And -- And I kept thinking how it could have been her. I mean, she must have hated me. Like that.

[ A meddler. Too caught up in other issues to recognize what she wanted, what she needed. ]

[So that's it. He guessed as much... he had seen part of the broadcast.]

You don't know what kind of life this one has had, Charles.

Raven didn't hate you.

[ Didn't she? At some point, she must have. He scrubs his face, exhaling sharply. ]

She's all alone. How could this happen to her?

[Oh, Charles. Raven had been alone in their world too. For ten years or so, while Erik rotted in prison, and Charles in his mansion. It's not so hard to imagine.]

I don't know. [It's an honest response. He doesn't know this Mystique. Only interacted with her long enough to establish that, impart some information, then go. He hadn't wanted to linger, for a myriad of reasons.]

[ He nods wearily. There are no answers. Nobody knows them. Only Mystique does and she's not willing to tell anyone.

There's no point taking on that blame. They're probably not even family. They're strangers, adrift. ]

I'm sorry.

[There's a beat of silence, and then Erik is tracing his fingers up along Charles's jaw to turn his face towards him.]

This isn't your fault.

No.

[ There's a quiet acceptance in there. He can't take on the actions of another Charles Xavier. He leans closer, pressing his forehead lightly against Erik's. ]

But the world has let her down and I can't help feeling -- responsible.

[Of course he can't. He's still going to see his sister when he looks at her, no matter what.]

Just remember that you aren't.

Mmm.

[ He's not sure how to feel about other mutants. It's too soon for him, just when he's started rebuilding his life. ]

They are . . . very strange.

[See what he's been dealing with? He hums, threading fingers through Charles's hair.]

I have bad news. We're just as strange to them.

But we have better manners by far.

[ He leans into that, his eyes hooding before he speaks. ]

Apparently you had a child in one of the realities. You named him after me.

Don't ever do that, dear. I don't think I'd ever live it down.

[That comes as a surprise to him. It was one thing for his team to joke about that Peter boy being his son, but...]

I-- huh. [Come to think of it, now Kurt Darkholme's initial questions make more sense.] All I heard was that I had a wife.

...I can name my theoretical children what I want, Charles.