And We Danced (Masquerade Overflow!)

[thespaceopera]

The Captcha is upon us, but the party isn't over! Feel free to continue your threads here, start new ones, and continue the dance party!

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Comments

[ecclesiophobic]

Mhm. He didn't say much more than that I should speak with Erik.

[Kurt is quiet, blinking slowly. In a fluid motion he pulls himself into a crouching position on the bench, his line of sight never straying from the duplicate of his mother. His expression doesn't change, but his voice is softer.]

I haven't brought the topic up with him. Something like this should stay between Darkholmes, don't you think?

Sorry, this seemed to never show up from my inbox :(

[only_skin_deep]

[He couldn't know, could he? Was Azazel more prevalent in Charles' world? And why the HELL did he have to go and say something?! Mystique was so focused on how she was going to deal with this, what Kurt was going to ask her, that she almost missed the mention of that name, her reaction to it registering her mind actual creating a physical reaction. As if she had seen something to do a double take at, her eyes laser focused on Kurt before she snarled out.] Erik is here?!

[There was nothing soft or subtle about it, it coming out almost in a roar that was not suited for the form she had taken, nor was the look she aimed at him during this. It wasn't angry at Kurt, but at the fact she had missed this, that Erik had managed to slip under her nose. She was sure she hadn't seen him, at least not a man she would recognize as Erik.]

Its cool I took forever and a day to answer. I am v. sorry for that

[ecclesiophobic]

[His spine straightens when she practically roars her demand for clarification; painfully so, given the natural curvature of his spine as he's aged. It shows in his face as a muscle twitching in his jaw as his expression hardens, jaw clenching and eyes narrowing.

Kurt steps off the bench slowly, pulling himself to his full height. His hands stay at his sides, open palms toward her, while his tail lashes behind him. Maybe the latter will warning enough that she's not too surprised when he opens his mouth and matches her for volume as he shouts:] He's not your Erik, Mystique! The man doesn't give a shit about you and won't unless you do something idiotic!

could be worse, could had been forever and TWO days.

[only_skin_deep]

[Her eyes widened at first, not expecting that type of reaction from him since she wouldn't had gotten it from her own Kurt. Rogue, yes, but not Kurt. It shocked her, rocked her out of her anger for a moment before it switched to rage over the fact Erik was around to the fact he was talking to her like this. Her eyes returning to their natural color as the muscles in her cheek twitched, her hand tightened into a fist at her side, only barely resisting from pulling the hidden handgun she had on her person. Instead she stayed standing tall, eyes locked on his, as if challenging him to make the first move, her anger gone so far beyond the need to yell that her voice dropped low. Dangerously low and soft. For most it would seem she had calmed down.

It couldn't be furthest from the truth.] Do not, ever, speak to me like that again. Crawl back to that bastard and keep licking his boots then, but you will not take that tone with me again. Are we clear?

true

[ecclesiophobic]

[Fuck. He's heard that tone before; usually accompanied by a spray of blood from whomever had dared to lay a hand on him. Never directed at him, and his first visceral reaction is to run, his legs tensing to facilitate that. But Kurt swore to himself, after the first time he'd seen his own mother kill someone and couldn't be around her, that he'd never run from Raven again. Any Raven, and this is so less horrific than slaughtering a church full of people.]

If you don't want me to speak to you like that, then don't yell at me. [Again he's matching her for volume, though not the implied threat in her voice.] I don't know how you raised your children, but my mother would come out of her grave and shoot me herself for letting anyone talk to me like that. Not you, not Erik, not even fucking Victor.

[only_skin_deep]

[Her sharp gaze stayed locked onto him as he spoke, as if looking for even the slightest movement that might give her an excuse to strike, almost like a snake coiled and ready to attack. Yet as he spoke, as he chose to speak rather than yell, Mystique let her muscles relax beyond the point of being loose enough to move quickly, but to that of a more subdued form, no longer on guard. Letting her breath out in a long exhale from her nose, her expression turned to more of one of annoyance mixed with disbelief and she finally broke eye contact to give a shake of her head and a breathy 'ha'.]

No, you don't know, [A note of harshness still there, but not to the level of rage as it had been before, more bitter, more cold.] But I understand what you mean. [Returning her golden eyes back to him, she felt a need to snarl at the topic that had started this all, that Erik, an Erik was here and under her nose the entire time.] And I don't expect you to understand why I hate that man.