MENTAL LINK ( S72 ).

[incinerates]

THAT'S	WHAT
HEROES	DO

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[incinerates]

[ This is an olive branch if ever there was one, extended to him by a woman that's felt like nothing but someone who understands how to be gentle when teeth are bared at her. It's why he bristles, even now. Prickles all over, resisting the symbiotic need to forgive and make amends. To be whole again, with his "new family". ]

-- you said you'd defend him even if he hurt others. Nothing about that is okay, you know.

[theycalledmeacurse]

( Not everything is as black and white as that. It'd be so much easier if it were. )

[ She used to think things could be that simple, that they should be. Back in her early days with the X-Men, she'd been so set in her beliefs, refusing to look at someone who had done wrong and see anything but their actions, let alone judge them on anything else. But now all she ever seems to see are shades of grey. ]

( Will you tell me where you are? I'd like to talk in person, if you'll let me. )

[incinerates]

Seems pretty clear cut to me.

[ He'd thought that of that girl too. The young one who'd killed, called it self-defense, as though hurting and-or killing people made anyone anything other than a murderer. Made them strong for surviving, when they should have been strong enough to find another way.

A long pause greets her, and then he answers. Begrudgingly: ]

I'm on my way back from the docks. Give me a few minutes, I'll go to the barracks.

[theycalledmeacurse]

( Thank you. )

[ Patience used to be a virtue she possessed, but now all Rogue feels is anxiety, a nervous thrum in her chest as she begins pacing. There's an urge from the symbiote to be make this peace, but more than that, she needs it. But she also needs a distraction, and so she passes the minutes by finding them some tea, pouring two hot cups and waiting with them in one of the corners of the room. ]

[incinerates]

[ It takes him less than "a few minutes". By now, he knows a handful of shortcuts throughout the encampments -- from docks to the "Carbauschian" barracks barely takes him a minute, if he walks fast and nobody stumbles into his way. He enters backwards, his arms full of two, semi-damp baskets, one weighed down with enough eel-like creature to feed at least half of the nest. The half that isn't absolutely sick of seafood, that is. ( He's not; he comes from Japan, after all. The food may be alien, but it's a familiarity. As long as there's spice to go with it, he'll eat it until he's sick of it. ) ]

All right. I'm here, what do you want to say?

[ It might be petulant, but he sits on the floor with his basket of eel and begins to peel off his robes. Unraveling them, exposing blonde hair and red eyes. Broad shoulders and lean arms, before he purposefully begins to prep eels for consumption. ]