eyecondition | 01. [Action / Voice]

[When Scott had last been aware, he'd been somewhere near the deserts of Mexico. Where in Mexico, he couldn't be sure, though there'd certainly been enough heat and sand to last a lifetime. It simply made no sense to pass out and wake up in a snowpile, more underdressed than he'd been in the summer sun. It's an understatement to call Scott alarmed. He scrambled to his feet, ears straining for the sound of something other than the whistling wind of a cold breeze. It must have been the fight he'd had with Mystique. He'd obviously lost, and she'd had him shipped to a different corner of the globe instead. Is she planning to keep abandoning him in different places until the elements kill him outright? He doubts he'll last long in sub-zero conditions without even a blanket to insulate him.

No. Scott decides instantly that he isn't in the mood to die today. Nothing good comes from pessimism. He'd found people in the bowels of a foreign country before, and he'll just have to do it again here too. Judging by the temperature, there might at least be some Inuit family that might be willing to share their igloo.]

Hello? [He ventures a greeting cautiously, and dares to crack a single eye open to see if there's some sort of civilization nearby. The small gesture alone sends a bright red beacon ripping through the flurrying snow -- hopefully not into anyone's personal property. There seemed to be some manmade structures just off to the left of the snapshot image he'd gotten. It wasn't enough of a visual to notice the journal lying open at his feet, but he isn't really in much of a reading mood anyway.]

I-is... anyone there? [He tries it again, more assertive now despite the telltale shiver in his tone. If there's at least one house, then there has to be people somewhere. With people come options. Maybe they'll have a phone he can use to call the mansion and get help sent out, or perhaps they'd at least have a first-aid kit and would be nice enough to patch up whatever injury was causing that bone-deep pain in his shoulderblades. If nothing else, hopefully the people here speak English.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...Not stuck somewhere freezing to death, are you? That'd be inconvenient.

Sort of. ..And it is, but I think there might be someone on their way to give me a hand with it.

Sorry if I'm being rude -- My name is Scott Summers.

Nice to meet you, Scott Summ--huh.

I'm...Buffy Summers.

[Now, it's not all that strange for unrelated people to share a surname in theory. It's just not a surname Scott's ever known someone else to have. If Buffy was looking to distract him from the biting cold, she's found a good angle.]

Seriously? That's a weird coincidence. [It would also not be altogether weird to find an extra sister he'd not known about before. Maybe she's a mutant too.]

That, or you're my long-lost cousin from Ohio. But my money's on the coincidence.

New York, actually.

...Same country, at least. That's impressive -- for this place.

I'm a California kinda gal, myself.

I guess that explains the 'Buffy'.

Is it all that strange to find other Americans here? [That would place this 'Luceti' community in... Russia?]

Shush. I rock this name.

[ a beat. ] There used to be less. We're getting more and more well-represented.

Oh, obviously.

It almost sounds intentional when you put it hat way. [What exactly are you implying, Miss Summers?]

For all we know? It might be.

I'm starting to get the sense that there's not a lot we know for sure.

Let's just say...I sure hope you like mysteries.

Not really my thing. Guess there's no choice here though.

...There's a lot of no-choices, actually. Starting with the wings. You know not to try and remove them, right?

I didn't, actually. Let me guess - they're wired to explode.

Not...quite. More like they're your lifeline. Lose'em and die.

That's impossible! I've never had wings before -- why should they make a difference now?

They make a difference 'cause you're here.

Sounds like an old wives' tale to me.

Well? You're free to give'em a try on your own. But I really really really wouldn't suggest it. Really. It'll hurt like a bitch.

[Well that just calls for a test plucking and HOLY SHIT YOU WERE NOT KILLING ABOUT PAIN. He swears sharply.]

Okay -- okay. They're attached.

I don't wanna say I told you so, but...

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