(no subject)
Well --
That was unsettling.
I hope he never has cause to be that angry with me.
<> Long Passage - Lv1
Branching off from the main hallway of the complex, this one seems exceptionally long but not especially crowded. It's well lit, yet the acoustics are impressive given the lack of carpetting and voices tend to echo down it's length. This passage, too, seems to diverge into other sections and rooms of the headquarters. At its end appears to be a massive, hollowed out cave in the rock like several others that are scattered throughout this place.
Eyes hollowed conspicuously by the continued effects of sleep deprivation, teeth slightly bared into a sneer that edges ever nearer to the dangerous edge of an as of yet untapped measure of wrath, Magneto stands with his feet apart - shoulders squared stiffly at the recruit in his deadly grasp. Blank white eyes, open wide with panic, rove quickly and fearfully away from the cold burning fury building in Erik's glare, the recruit himself bound some feet up in the air and against the wall - an assortment of metal objects tightening their vice grip around ankles...waist...neck. Most of it looks to be random - things that were simply lying around. Chain. A rusted support. The barbed wire was probably deliberate.
Quiet footsteps in the deep of night: neat in plain black sweats, sweat-damp hair knotted with ruthless efficiency behind her, Ellen emerges from the weightroom to pad along through the hallway -- and halts, round-eyed, at the spectacle. One hand curls reflexively around the plastic water bottle she carries. She moistens her lips, swallows, but as yet, ventures no sound.
It's the recruit that notices Ellen first, the young man's brows knitting after a flicker of hope as the glint of tiny silver pupils flicks aside and onto the older mutant. Erik is quick to turn upon noting that eye contact has been lost, expression bland and unreadable - posture upright, when he locks eyes with Ellen. The charcoal sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, black trousers pressed, jaw shaven and hair in pristine order, were it not for the stark mania in his glare and the darkness around his eyes, he'd look...perfectly normal. Behind him, the recruit shifts nervously.
Ellen stands very still, somber and immutable as a statue. Her expression is schooled to a blandness of her own as she meets his eyes. Very slightly, she raises her chin.
From ten feet, the recruit drops - his muffled cry and the clatter of his bindings against the steel floor not prompting so much as a blink from the Master of Magnetism. The barbed wire unwinds first, leaving thin trails of blood in its wake. The rest simply slackens, allowing the poor kid room to wriggle and squirm his way out so that he can bolt down the opposite end of the hall and around a corner, boots pounding out an irregular, limping beat. Erik just stares back at Ellen.
Ellen holds steady, not a blink nor a flicker of her glance to follow the fading sound of the disappearing recruit. Her attention is wholly on Erik: watching him. Gazing. Staring. Meeting cold blue with mild blue-grey. She blinks once, finally, but does not actually look away.
Magneto finally moves - his first step bordering upon hesitant. The few that follow are more deliberate. Predatory, even, though his posture remains commendable, and his expression carefully flat as he bears down upon Ellen. Fifteen feet away, ten, five - "Ms. Dramstadt."
Ellen raises her eyebrows, ever-so-slightly, though she otherwise remains perfectly still. "Sir."
A quick up and down of Ellen accomplished in the single step that brings him nearest to her, his jaw sets and clenches as the left boot swings up before the right, and Magneto continues on past her.
Ellen follows him with her eyes for a long moment. She blinks again. Once. Twice. Again. Then she gives herself a little shake and continues on her original course.
Down the poorly lit passage, Erik's bootfalls continue on for some time before they fade, and eventually silence - not so much as a glance cast backward for Ellen.
That was unsettling.
I hope he never has cause to be that angry with me.
<> Long Passage - Lv1
Branching off from the main hallway of the complex, this one seems exceptionally long but not especially crowded. It's well lit, yet the acoustics are impressive given the lack of carpetting and voices tend to echo down it's length. This passage, too, seems to diverge into other sections and rooms of the headquarters. At its end appears to be a massive, hollowed out cave in the rock like several others that are scattered throughout this place.
Eyes hollowed conspicuously by the continued effects of sleep deprivation, teeth slightly bared into a sneer that edges ever nearer to the dangerous edge of an as of yet untapped measure of wrath, Magneto stands with his feet apart - shoulders squared stiffly at the recruit in his deadly grasp. Blank white eyes, open wide with panic, rove quickly and fearfully away from the cold burning fury building in Erik's glare, the recruit himself bound some feet up in the air and against the wall - an assortment of metal objects tightening their vice grip around ankles...waist...neck. Most of it looks to be random - things that were simply lying around. Chain. A rusted support. The barbed wire was probably deliberate.
Quiet footsteps in the deep of night: neat in plain black sweats, sweat-damp hair knotted with ruthless efficiency behind her, Ellen emerges from the weightroom to pad along through the hallway -- and halts, round-eyed, at the spectacle. One hand curls reflexively around the plastic water bottle she carries. She moistens her lips, swallows, but as yet, ventures no sound.
It's the recruit that notices Ellen first, the young man's brows knitting after a flicker of hope as the glint of tiny silver pupils flicks aside and onto the older mutant. Erik is quick to turn upon noting that eye contact has been lost, expression bland and unreadable - posture upright, when he locks eyes with Ellen. The charcoal sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, black trousers pressed, jaw shaven and hair in pristine order, were it not for the stark mania in his glare and the darkness around his eyes, he'd look...perfectly normal. Behind him, the recruit shifts nervously.
Ellen stands very still, somber and immutable as a statue. Her expression is schooled to a blandness of her own as she meets his eyes. Very slightly, she raises her chin.
From ten feet, the recruit drops - his muffled cry and the clatter of his bindings against the steel floor not prompting so much as a blink from the Master of Magnetism. The barbed wire unwinds first, leaving thin trails of blood in its wake. The rest simply slackens, allowing the poor kid room to wriggle and squirm his way out so that he can bolt down the opposite end of the hall and around a corner, boots pounding out an irregular, limping beat. Erik just stares back at Ellen.
Ellen holds steady, not a blink nor a flicker of her glance to follow the fading sound of the disappearing recruit. Her attention is wholly on Erik: watching him. Gazing. Staring. Meeting cold blue with mild blue-grey. She blinks once, finally, but does not actually look away.
Magneto finally moves - his first step bordering upon hesitant. The few that follow are more deliberate. Predatory, even, though his posture remains commendable, and his expression carefully flat as he bears down upon Ellen. Fifteen feet away, ten, five - "Ms. Dramstadt."
Ellen raises her eyebrows, ever-so-slightly, though she otherwise remains perfectly still. "Sir."
A quick up and down of Ellen accomplished in the single step that brings him nearest to her, his jaw sets and clenches as the left boot swings up before the right, and Magneto continues on past her.
Ellen follows him with her eyes for a long moment. She blinks again. Once. Twice. Again. Then she gives herself a little shake and continues on her original course.
Down the poorly lit passage, Erik's bootfalls continue on for some time before they fade, and eventually silence - not so much as a glance cast backward for Ellen.