An arm goes about Rogue's shoulders, a deep voice intoning softly, "A friend in need, my dear Southern belle, would be a friend who could lend aid to this battered blue Beast to find his way off of the ship."
Hank doesn't need help, not really. His skin has finished healing and patches of fur are already growing back. But he's sensitive to Rogue's pride, and a lot of pride is there to mind.
"If yah think yah can convince them not tah strap me down in a chair, Ah'd be more than happy tah help yah Hank." Rogue smiles at him, leaning into the one armed hug. The casts, as lightweight and thing as they are, will make manuvering interesting but she's sure she can et them both off of the ship without too much issue.
"We are about to disembark the gentle embraces of another's vehicle and arrive in what I shall refer to as 'my hizzie,' Rogue, and then I am master of who is strapped where," says Hank reassuringly. "How are you faring?"
Rogue blinks at Hank for a moment and then gives a small laugh. "Ah've been worse than broken bones." Carefully, she manuvers an arm around his waist in return. "The rest, Ah'm tryin' not tah think about it."
Colossus is there, waiting with many of the mutants of the school, desperately hoping this is not another attack. The Mansion is still undergoing repairs.
The craft is Shi'ar in origin, that much he knows...
Rogue and Beast make their way out of the ship along with the unconcious Angel and Professor, who are being helped kindly by the Shi'ar. It is hard to tell whether Rogue is helping Beast along or that he is helping her along as they both seem to have come away from this with injuries.
Beast has yet to grow back all of his fur and Rogue is sporting bruises and two casts.
A little behind them come Lorna and Alex, holding hands with their fingers twined tightly together. They both look somber, a hint of sadness there although they do their best to put forward a united front
( ... )
The Shi'ar medical staff had wanted to check his shoulder on the flight home, make certain that all was as it should be and that there was no risk of infection; Alex had refused, had barely even acknowledged their presence, so focused had he been on his girlfriend's condition. His primary concern from the moment he'd set foot on the Shi'ar ship had been Lorna's health
( ... )
Paige follows Warren's stretcher like a balloon on a string. She won't come close enough to get in the doctor's way, but she's not leaving him to be forgotton in a hallway somewhere while other patients are dealt with.
He was last to board the ship, and he'll be among the last to leave. Logan has a gift for being all but invisible when the mood suits him, and he's used that to its fullest extent on the journey back to Xavier's.
It's not home for him like it is the others. He's not sure he's ever had one -- unless you count the snow-packed wilderness of Canada's most barren reaches.
Logan prefers his own company, and takes his own counsel. He needs beer. A lot of beer. And to be alone -- truly alone, as opposed to being crammed inside a giant hulk of metal hurtling through deep space.
His healing factor's taken care of his physical injuries; but there are wounds below the surface that will take their own, prolonged time to heal. He stalks across the lawns towards the garages. For some, Xavier's is a welcome sanctuary.
Right now, to Logan, it feels more like a wasteland.
From the Shi'ar departure deck, she watches her team and those come to greet them.
Piotr's skin shining like a beacon in the sun, directing all homeward.
Rogue and Henry helping each other along the path, Lorna and Alex, Paige following close behind with Warren. She watches shoulders bent with battered bodies, possibly embittered souls, and the weight of all that's happened during the time away.
Observes Logan say nothing as he slips away from them all to seek his own solace. He will leave, she thinks with wooden certainty.
Ororo's eyes drift blankly to the grass, green and familiar. Abruptly realizes she wants nothing more than to avoid it. To fly and seek refuge away. Her garden. The woods. Anywhere but the mansion and the memories waiting there.
Her gaze passes over her friends again. They'd exchanged few words with each other on the way home. As much as the first generation of X-Men considers themselves family, across the years she's come to consider the second team hers. They were her home, but now... now her
( ... )
Comments 32
Hank doesn't need help, not really. His skin has finished healing and patches of fur are already growing back. But he's sensitive to Rogue's pride, and a lot of pride is there to mind.
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The craft is Shi'ar in origin, that much he knows...
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Beast has yet to grow back all of his fur and Rogue is sporting bruises and two casts.
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"Oh, man. We're gonna hafta buy new sod."
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Just when he thought his week at Xavier's couldn't have gotten any weirder.
A spaceship.
A huge fucking spaceship.
That the X-men apparently rode home in.
Has landed.
On the front lawn.
...
...Yeah, he's going back to watch some cable.
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"Looks like Mister Logan is home." She smiles sweetly. "Five o'clock sharp. Or I send him to get you out of bed."
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He starts to walk off again.
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"Someone has to take the souls of the dead."
She can feel the tug; that nearly irrestible need to saddle up her horse and carry the fighters off for their last ride.
What a crap job. Why couldn't she have been a barista instead?
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Like patients who can talk.
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It's not home for him like it is the others. He's not sure he's ever had one -- unless you count the snow-packed wilderness of Canada's most barren reaches.
Logan prefers his own company, and takes his own counsel. He needs beer. A lot of beer. And to be alone -- truly alone, as opposed to being crammed inside a giant hulk of metal hurtling through deep space.
His healing factor's taken care of his physical injuries; but there are wounds below the surface that will take their own, prolonged time to heal. He stalks across the lawns towards the garages. For some, Xavier's is a welcome sanctuary.
Right now, to Logan, it feels more like a wasteland.
Reply
Piotr's skin shining like a beacon in the sun, directing all homeward.
Rogue and Henry helping each other along the path, Lorna and Alex, Paige following close behind with Warren. She watches shoulders bent with battered bodies, possibly embittered souls, and the weight of all that's happened during the time away.
Observes Logan say nothing as he slips away from them all to seek his own solace. He will leave, she thinks with wooden certainty.
Ororo's eyes drift blankly to the grass, green and familiar. Abruptly realizes she wants nothing more than to avoid it. To fly and seek refuge away. Her garden. The woods. Anywhere but the mansion and the memories waiting there.
Her gaze passes over her friends again. They'd exchanged few words with each other on the way home. As much as the first generation of X-Men considers themselves family, across the years she's come to consider the second team hers. They were her home, but now... now her ( ... )
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