Scott Summers (
eyecondition) wrote2012-01-11 10:44 pm
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.]
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.]

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Okay, that's all nice and everything, but what about going home? And what does Storm have to say about all this? [So the answer to Kurt's second question would be 'yes', though the information didn't exactly come from Rogue herself.]
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...and oh gosh, let's just not let her know about this whole thing, mmkay?
And... here we get to the part she knows he's really not going to like.]
If there was anythin' we coulda done ta get home by now, we would've tried it. Kurt's been here even longer'n I have, Storm's been here an' home an' back once already. We can't do anything ta change what's goin' on unless we can get out of the barrier. And not even Kitty could phase through it.
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[A little taller, a little more fit, and a little more... eye glowing. Good times.]
We don't go home unless the Malnosso send us back. Until then... we just wait.
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[A deep breath, and Rogue sets her shoulders. That was before... before she found out about Mystique and lost control of her psyches. Before Scott and Jean got together. Before Apocalypse. Before she'd ended Mystique. Before they'd come for her in New Orleans. That was so far back, everything still felt innocent, she'd felt hope and like she had a chance with him and with... a lot of things back then.
But that was over now.]
The last thing I remember from back home I was on the Blackbird flyin' back from New Orleans.
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The other X-Men don't even know we're gone. The professor wouldn't even know to try to look for us, yeah?
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So we're trapped in some intergalactic Australia with no way to call for help until scientists we don't get to see decide to send us home? [Today has been so weird.]
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How much better?
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[A glance at Kurt.]
Twenty? Would you say twenty?
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They did some kind of experiment on me. I think it triggered my mutation. My eyes have been like this for months now. I can see in the dark better than ever, almost as clear as day. That and I'm nearly invisible in the dark, when I want to be. It's... not as bad as it could be.
[He's thinking of Spyke. He could compare himself to Spyke, but that hasn't even happened to Scott yet.]
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Does it hurt?
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But she is watching closely.]
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No. It never did.
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And for everything else, we'll just have to keep trying. We're X-Men. We don't give up. [Even if it's taken over a year.]
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Naturally he must give Scott a hard time.]
Of course. But ah, maybe we should save the encouragement for after shopping, yeah?
[People are gonna stare!]
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According to you guys, that's hardly the weirdest thing that goes on here.
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Yeah, an' white linen makes a great fashion statement when it's wet an' cold outside.
[Be thankful for that blanket, Scott. You were leaving very little to the imagination.]
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All right, all right! I get it! [He holds up his palms, surrendering all the way over to pants.] What kind of living space is available here, anyway? [And what are the chances Scott can wrangle his own room out of the deal?]
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