[muffled spooky scary skeletons playing in the distance]

[geonomy]

Who: You! Me! Everybody!
Broadcast: idk but we've sure got a pretty broad cast of folks eh, eh
Action: HECK YEAH PLANET MINGLE
When: 10/7 until plot update or recaptcha

It's a deep, deep forest filled to the brim with fungi, mysterious life forms, and pitch black darkness. Explore if you dare and discover all these things and more! Just don't get lost...

Comments

[noprophecies]

[she picks up a larger twig to fiddle with, carefully cutting off the part at the end]

It is usually with the intention of getting you to make a different face, Erik.

[she gives him a curious look] Do you want me to stop saying it?

[exothermia]

No. I don't mind. I know it's accurate.

[noprophecies]

[she shrugs a shoulder]

It is only accurate some of the time.

[exothermia]

I suppose that's an improvement.

[noprophecies]

[she snorts]

I have seen you smile. And I have made you laugh in the past.

[she shrugs again] I simply have to work harder at it this go around.

[exothermia]

[He smiles, though it's a faint thing.]

Is it tiring?

[noprophecies]

[she shakes her head]

Not at all.

[exothermia]

[He runs a leaf between his fingers, contemplative.]

I feel like it must be. For everyone around me.

[noprophecies]

[she hums a little in understanding, glancing down to the stick in her hands. She begins cutting at it again]

It might be. But I imagine the people around you are not so easily exhausted.

[exothermia]

[He's not so sure about that. Breathing out, he glances her way.]

If they are, they're hardly going to say so.

[noprophecies]

Of course not. They love you, you idiot.

If they are tired they will put up with it because of that.

[exothermia]

[He clenches his jaw slightly. It was what bothered him most, about his efforts with other people. That lingering fear that they would grow tired of it, realise there's nothing of value here to wait for, and want him to go. It was why he left the mansion, before his poison could take root in a place of optimism and hope.]

They shouldn't have to put up with it.

[noprophecies]

[she pauses at that, hands coming to a stop. It's a familiar sentiment, one she had subscribed to for years. Still did, in her worst moments]

Mmm, maybe. But I doubt that is how they see it.

[exothermia]

[He wonders. His conversations all tend towards the superficial, the business-like; maybe they prefer it that way.]

I don't know what it is that I contribute anymore.

[noprophecies]

[she glances over with a frown, before she turns her attention back to her little art project. The knife cuts off another piece of bark]

What is it that you contributed before that has changed?

[exothermia]

I-- [He starts, then stops. There are a lot of things he could say, but many of them relate to just one person, and are bound up with feelings of guilt.]

I used to do more for others.

[noprophecies]

[she purses her lips, finally just sitting down proper. The stick she's been playing with has had the end sharpened, and she sticks that in the ground and puts her knife into the ground next to it]

What else?

[exothermia]

I had plans. Goals. Things I wanted to do.

[He looks at his hands, lined with dirt and age.] It feels absurd now.

[noprophecies]

Why are they absurd?

[exothermia]

...because none of them worked.

[And it feels obvious, in hindsight, that he was wrong to hope for the best. To think things might work out for him. He wishes he could have been more surprised when it all imploded on him, snuffed out like a match. But he wasn't.]

[noprophecies]

[she doesn't have to ask about them, not really. She can take guesses, from what he's told her and what she's heard otherwise.

She sighs quietly. She was the last person who should talk about any of this]

I would say make new plans or goals, but I know it is not that easy.

[exothermia]

[He huffs, not saying anything, but glad enough that she's acknowledged how difficult it is. Where is he meant to go from here, when his dreams have died and hope was never really at home in his soul? His next reply is a bit halting.]

I think... this is the first time in my life where I've really not known what to do.

[In his youth, he existed purely to kill Shaw. After, he fought to free mutants from the tyranny of humanity. Later, he had lived for love. He'd resolved to find a way forward with Charles, together. He had failed in that, but stumbled into another love with Magda, and Nina. And then...]

[noprophecies]

[there's a lot of things she could say. Each one on the tip of her tongue, something innocent enough that she isn't falling back on her own experiences, but everything seems too . . . empty. Hollow. Like it won't be enough.

She purses her lips for a moment, watching him]

Mmm, you've said that before. That you did not know what to do now.

[a pause, and then:]

How long has it been?

[since he lost his family]

[exothermia]

[There's a long silence, as Erik stares off into the grass.]

Four... nearly five months.

[noprophecies]

[she picks up her knife again, only this time she shifts to put it back in her boot, before she pushes up to walk over and sit closer, next to him]

May I be honest with you?

[it's less about being honest, which she always is with him, and more being less careful with her words]