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[futures_of_ash]

One of the things about being a telepath is that you know how your own head feels. You live in it after all. So imagine the frustration of trying to tell yourself it wasn't always like this, wasn't a lake of pain and destruction, wasn't so dark.

Once it was all stars...

That's probably why she's crying silently warm tears as she opens her eyes to the real world once more, the bandages on the knees tucked to her chin damp and accusing. She's begun...to pick up the pieces, fish them from the depths of shadowed blood and leave them on the ravaged shore to dry and puzzle out...

She's begun...but it wasn't always this hard.

Comments

[the_lioness]

*The guilt finally gets to Alanna, and she wanders back into the infirmary only a few hours after her conversation with Jadis. Taking a deep breath, she ignores everything and everyone except Rachel. One step, and then another, until she stands by her friend's bed, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

She croaks,* Rachel?

[futures_of_ash]

Her eyes still hold so very much no one shoudl have to see, immersed as she has been these last few hours. Shadows staining the clear emerald like smoke or ash, but the lipstwitch into a small, so preciously small smile.

::Alanna:: she greeted, gentle as a breeze, she doesn't want to scare her, no, never. Some of the pain and darkness seeps through the light mental greeting, but she's trying. She truly is.

[the_lioness]

*Eyes bright and wide, Alanna hazards a smile. It's sad and a little confused, looking like it might shift into a grimace at any moment.*

Rachel. I'm sorry I've stayed away. This visit should have happened sooner.

*She takes a deep breath and leans a bit closer, hand absently smoothing the blanket.*

[futures_of_ash]

::I understand:: she assured. She does. She scared her, she knows that, and accepts it. There's no censure, no judgement, just simple, warm acceptance in her tone.

She's not recovered enough to move with Teke since helping Mel, but she does manage to careffuly lay her bandaged hand along Alanna's ::Are you alright?::

[the_lioness]

*Alanna ever so gently runs her finger along the edge of the bandage and sighs. The look she gives Rachel is almost comical.*

Aren't I supposed to be asking you that? I'm fine, my friend, though I wish I could do more to help.

[futures_of_ash]

She actually can feel that light touch. Comes with lack of pain dampers. It hurts but she doesn't complain, she's a touch heavy person after all. The warm chuckle that bubbles forth owards Alanna's mind has hint of deep, deep sadness, but it's laughter none the less. On the tails of that sound comes a slow whisper ::I frighten you and you're still willing to ask that?::

::I'm...not doing so badly:: a patent lie, but onemeant as a comfort.

[the_lioness]

*She gives Rachel a wobbly smile, wishing she could banish that sadness and the pain.

Oh, I most certainly am. Besides, I don't think it was 'frightened' so much as 'unsettled.' I've had one or two bad experiences with people getting inside my head. I was just caught off guard. It was silly of me, really.

*An odd shiver works its way down Alanna's spine, and she bites her lip, unable to look away from Rachel's face.*

No. But you'll get better.

I brought you something.

[futures_of_ash]

She nodded softly, just a movement of her head an inch or two on the pillow, else her back pulls and she has learned she doesn't like that at all...but it's a nod. ::I would speak normally if I could:: she sighed, she'd give Alanna that comfort in a heartbeat were it an option. Not for a few more days at least though. Then the rest of what Alanna said sinks in, making her blink a moment.

And there's, suprisingly, anger. ::Who?:: she asked, first and foremost. ::Who crawled into your mind Alanna?:: it's...horrible. She knows people go bad, hell, she knows it in her soul, but a persons mind...is not to be tampered with. Ever. She's toolate to protect her friend, yes, but...she can ask, and hopefully hear they've been punished.

She'll remember the comment on bringing something after the anger fades.

[the_lioness]

Oh, Rachel. I don't mind at all with you. I trust you completely. In fact, it's nice in an odd sort of way. Like it's just us, and no one can really overhear.

*Alanna rubs the back of her neck and clears her throat.*

The man I've killed twice, the Duke of Conte, did first. But only once. He's quite good at reaching inside and manipulating.

The other?

Lucifer. He took control of my will. The compulsion...

Well. It wasn't pleasant, and I couldn't fight him like that.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

She still does not care for the infirmary. However, when there was a reason, a good reason? Svava can deal with it-

And Rachel is certainly a good reason.

She enters (http://community.livejournal.com/milliways_bar/10656093.html?thread=440896605#t440896605) and heads over towards her bed, the faint smile fading upon seeing Rachel curled up on her side.

"Rachel?"

[inquisitivehero]

hank follows, his eyes bright, watching. He moves to Rachel's other side and smiles a little as he sees her crying.

"Ah, lass. How are you doing today?"

He gently holds up a handkerchief.

"For you."

It is of softest silk.

[futures_of_ash]

She doesn't mind her tears honestly. She doesn't. And she's not movig well enough to hold a handkerchief, but the offer is appreciated.

::I'm still here:: about as good as it gets isn't it?

::Hey Svava...thank you for the clothes! They're beautiful...::

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"I hoped you'd like them." Svava smiles faintly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Something nice to wear usually doesn't put someone in a bad mood."

She bites her lip, quiet for a moment.

Hvers vegna ÉG vilja ekki lækna það the blóð er borgun fyrir hvaða var skáhallur.

It's not magic.

"I- I'd like to try something to help you, if I may Rachel?"

[futures_of_ash]

Rachel arched an eyebrow, it felt nice to move something that didn't hurt. The feeling that washes outward from her mind is that of warm curiousity and a mild shame...she's not one who accepts help easily. ::You've already done so much...::

Svava cared. That...is enough to blow her mind honestly.

Her curiousity increased tenfold though as hank smiled gently and walked away to check on monitors and such.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

"Hardly anything." Svava shook her head with a sheepish smile.

"Hank says that normal magic doesn't work to heal you, that you became immune to it." She frowns, then takes a deep, calming breath.

"I do know healing- there are several rune spells for that. But I also know something else. The helgisiðir won't hurt you, even if it doesn't work- though it should!"

[futures_of_ash]

Pain is debilitating, fear more so...and both swamp her at the mention of healing. And worse...it crashes through her shields like they were simple tissue paper, turning the emotions from singular torment, to weapons as well...though Rach had never intended such.

Small hands, fingers deep in the wounds on her back, digging, probing "She's dieing..."

"Do not fail me Tool, or you will certainly join her"

"Yes Master" fingers flowing with energy, forcing it's way past resistance and blood and into bone to spread like a cancer under her skin and through her muscle...healing...healing...

Then the fear is cut off in mid memory, like flicking a switch, Rachel holding it away from hurting her friend any further through sheer will and grim knowledge, nothing more.

[skjaldmeyjar.livejournal.com]

Svava's hands are clenched tightly, her teeth-gritted- And once the fear is over with it is to control the anger at what had happened to Rachel-

Since there is no way of dealing with this 'Master' now, or even the Tool. Nothing, except to do something different.

She takes a deep breath, and reaches over to gently touch one of Rachel's hands.

"I'm sorry. That- that all was not right, and you never deserved what happened."

[medicine-bird.livejournal.com]

Jean's own mind is quiet, focused, intent, a few spikes of low-grade pain from her healing leg flitting about the edges suggesting what's brought her to the infirmary. It's not too much work to get a painkiller off of one of the other doctors, and she's soon left leaning on her cane and wondering where to head next.

It's then, telepath as she also is, that she picks up on Rachel's distress. And, being Jean Grey, it's not all that unusual that she should follow it up, step-shuffling slowly over to where the younger woman rests.

"I don't mean to intrude... but I can't help feeling how turbulent your emotions are. Is there anything I can do to help?"

[futures_of_ash]

Rachel shifts her gaze to Jean and eveything...stops. Everything. Shields she didn't know she had the strength for snap into being with an almost audible sound.

It's Jean. That familiar mental taste, that familiar, aching voice...and yet...not.

It's Jean.

Just not one of hers.

How many versions of her mother must she come across? She'd be ashamed of the neck to toes bandaging if she could muster the strength, but she's just too tired in all honesty. Instead, she just looks the woman over, head to toe, then shakes her head softly. ::No, I'm afraid not:: telepathy offered because her throat isn't up to speech.

::Which earth are you from...Jean?:: it's obvious she wanted to say something else, but it would hurt too much.

[medicine-bird.livejournal.com]

<< You must be Rachel, >> Jean identifies, from a mixture of clues and cues conscious and subconscious, scraps of conversations with Hank and Arithon coming back to her.

Slowly, cautiously, she eases herself into a crouch beside the bed, leg in the cast splayed out to one side, and her hands wrapped around the stock of her cane. In answer to the question, she chooses telepathy over speech to convey the message:

Left politely at the edge of Rachel's shields, a complicated bubble of images and impressions and a few memories, giving the flavour of Jean's world, and her place within it. As she thinks of it, a final layer of separation and loss settles across the mental bauble.

[futures_of_ash]

::Don't do that with a broken leg:: she sent absently. After all, she's more than curled tight enough to leave at least half the bed free. Her words are oddly dark, feeling of pain and blood on the tongue, but it's not an attack.

And with almost suprising skill consideirng her state of mind, she manages to unravel the images sent over, look them over, taste them ::Yet more differences...I'll never come across a reality where things are happy for mutants will I?:: she mused quietly to herself.

Then, belatedly she focuses on jean again ::Yes, I'm Rachel::

[medicine-bird.livejournal.com]

<< I didn't want to intrude, >> Jean explains, but does, slowly and cautiously, settle herself on the unused part of the bed. She watches Rachel with quiet intensity, taking in the bandages, the pain with a doctor's clinical assessment, and a favourite teacher's caring concern.

<< They aren't so bad, in my reality, >> she offers, with a small, hopeful little smile. << We're making a difference, slowly, but it's being made. People are just slow to accept new things, no matter what their genes are. >>

[futures_of_ash]

Jean, ever hopeful. A shining light among mutants. Hope, some have called her.

Rachel's gaze is oddly intent, shadow laced emerald, weighing the woman's injury and her sadness at being here, bound at the least. ::You gave yourself for the team didn't you?:: she asked gently.

People used to wonder where Rachel gotit from. It's a little obvious to her.

[medicine-bird.livejournal.com]

Shattering concrete, screaming rebar giving way, and the wall of rushing water flit through Jean's thoughts, tagged unconsciously onto the simple explanation of << Yes... I had no choice. >>

There's a coda of fire and light to the memories, survival and power and the glimpse of a raptor's wings. They vanish abruptly as Jean reinforces her barriers back to polite levels between telepaths.

<< And you? >> she wonders, gently.

[futures_of_ash]

She doesn't know that scene, Jean's reality this time is more removed than she'd suspected. It's almost a relief. Another tie they don't have. Se won't end up clinging to this woman, trying to force her into a role that isn't hers.

And how could she not recognize that flame?

Jean's question though plunges her thoughts down a far darker path. No shattering concrete for her, no, but shattering bone. Lovingly, gently crushed, and slice upon slice of flesh taken away artfully, delicately. Chains, laughter, and a sudden increase in the dark blood that fills very thought.

No, she's not insane, she's shattered. She can be fixed and she's working on it. It's so very clear for a moment as memeorty leaks through, but she halts it abruptly. No one, especially Jean, needs to see that. ::A sadist at teh edge of time::