Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhuman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
edge_of_forever2013-05-28 08:56 am
morethanhuman) wrote in edge_of_forever2013-05-28 08:56 am
bow in the presence of greatness
Erik stands in the middle of the shuttle bay, one hand extended palm-up in front of him. Far overhead, almost at the top of the shuttle bay, Lwaxana’s shuttle hovers in midair. His eyes narrow, Erik curls his fingers in a little come-here gesture. A rush of power that's lain dormant in him for over a year surges out through his fingertips, and the shuttle hurtls toward him. It swoops down, passing so close over his head that the breeze from its passing ruffles his hair.
He can’t rein in a laugh-- it's been too long since he’s felt this, the full depth of his power wholly at his command-- and it bubbles up in him, exhilarating and wild, spilling out as he sweeps his hand out in another long gesture, sending the shuttle flying back up to the ceiling.
There's a sigh behind him and he turns, grinning, while the shuttle zooms around the room. “If you’re bored already, don’t let me keep you.”
"I'm sorry, did that read as an I'm bored sigh?" Mystique asks, sidling up to him with an uncharacteristically playful smile. "This is admiration. This is 'my god, you look good with ten tons of metal hovering over you'."
She crosses her arms and watches him hurl the thing back up a second time.
"But you're missing something...”
Erik looks back up to the shuttle, feeling through its component parts-- he could take it apart and reassemble it, melt it down into slag or send it flying out into space. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like, this power. But he can’t even be angry at how long he’s gone without it-- not with it burning through him like this.
Mystique’s comment makes him raise an eyebrow, though he's too busy sending the shuttle through a series of aerial maneuvers to turn and let her see it. “What’s that?”
She doesn't say anything, just changes, and it's not the stagnant, flickering change he's used to, but fast and perfectly smooth. One moment Raven's standing there, and the next… he is.
"Unless you want Charles perusing your mind like the Sunday paper."
The shuttle goes still and so does Erik, turning a sharp look on her, his heart suddenly beating quick for an entirely different reason. This vision of himself-- it's one thing to see photos and illustrations, another entirely to see his future in the flesh before him. It's fascinating, but deeply unnerving, especially since he still can’t be sure if he'll still become that man, or if coming here has changed him too much.
But then it dawns on him-- Raven is right. He’d be wise to protect himself from Charles, who is now more than capable of rifling through Erik’s mind and finding out all about Cuba. And now, with his own powers restored, his helmet is no longer out of his reach.
The shuttle lowers gently to the ground and Erik’s eyes go fierce, a wide grin breaking over his face. “Come on,” he says, striding toward the door.
. . .
They're not even thirty feet from the door when Raven sees it start to tremble in its frame.
Then all of a sudden, it stops. She glances at him and sees he's changed his focus: he's disregarding the door entirely, peeling layers off the wall, the metal rolling up and crumpling like paper until she can see the inventory shelves through the frame. There's a mess of wires, smoking and spitting sparks, but it doesn't stop Erik from stepping through.
Sure, it's petty, but Raven can't resist swiping her comm in front of the half-dead sensor; it gives a sad, bleating no access beep just as she lifts one white boot over the jagged wall.
How do you like me now, HAL?
"They're organized by serial number," she says with a frown, eyeing the tags on the front of the shelves. She pulls open one at random and sees a stack of filthy, bloodstained clothing: nope. Another: a pink vest and a cell phone covered in stickers. Another-- ooh-- has a duffel bag labeled STARK TECHNOLOGIES-- definitely worth checking out once she's found her stuff.
Finally, she pulls open the right drawer. She locks and loads her Glock with a look that's somehow both affectionate and smug, then glances over to see Erik holding his helmet up to the flickering light.
“I’ve always said it takes a very special guy to inspire fear in red and purple,” she says dryly, applying a fresh coat of lipstick in the grainy reflection of the shelves. “I think I just got goosebumps.”
[see the OOC post here before tagging.]
He can’t rein in a laugh-- it's been too long since he’s felt this, the full depth of his power wholly at his command-- and it bubbles up in him, exhilarating and wild, spilling out as he sweeps his hand out in another long gesture, sending the shuttle flying back up to the ceiling.
There's a sigh behind him and he turns, grinning, while the shuttle zooms around the room. “If you’re bored already, don’t let me keep you.”
"I'm sorry, did that read as an I'm bored sigh?" Mystique asks, sidling up to him with an uncharacteristically playful smile. "This is admiration. This is 'my god, you look good with ten tons of metal hovering over you'."
She crosses her arms and watches him hurl the thing back up a second time.
"But you're missing something...”
Erik looks back up to the shuttle, feeling through its component parts-- he could take it apart and reassemble it, melt it down into slag or send it flying out into space. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like, this power. But he can’t even be angry at how long he’s gone without it-- not with it burning through him like this.
Mystique’s comment makes him raise an eyebrow, though he's too busy sending the shuttle through a series of aerial maneuvers to turn and let her see it. “What’s that?”
She doesn't say anything, just changes, and it's not the stagnant, flickering change he's used to, but fast and perfectly smooth. One moment Raven's standing there, and the next… he is.
"Unless you want Charles perusing your mind like the Sunday paper."
The shuttle goes still and so does Erik, turning a sharp look on her, his heart suddenly beating quick for an entirely different reason. This vision of himself-- it's one thing to see photos and illustrations, another entirely to see his future in the flesh before him. It's fascinating, but deeply unnerving, especially since he still can’t be sure if he'll still become that man, or if coming here has changed him too much.
But then it dawns on him-- Raven is right. He’d be wise to protect himself from Charles, who is now more than capable of rifling through Erik’s mind and finding out all about Cuba. And now, with his own powers restored, his helmet is no longer out of his reach.
The shuttle lowers gently to the ground and Erik’s eyes go fierce, a wide grin breaking over his face. “Come on,” he says, striding toward the door.
. . .
They're not even thirty feet from the door when Raven sees it start to tremble in its frame.
Then all of a sudden, it stops. She glances at him and sees he's changed his focus: he's disregarding the door entirely, peeling layers off the wall, the metal rolling up and crumpling like paper until she can see the inventory shelves through the frame. There's a mess of wires, smoking and spitting sparks, but it doesn't stop Erik from stepping through.
Sure, it's petty, but Raven can't resist swiping her comm in front of the half-dead sensor; it gives a sad, bleating no access beep just as she lifts one white boot over the jagged wall.
How do you like me now, HAL?
"They're organized by serial number," she says with a frown, eyeing the tags on the front of the shelves. She pulls open one at random and sees a stack of filthy, bloodstained clothing: nope. Another: a pink vest and a cell phone covered in stickers. Another-- ooh-- has a duffel bag labeled STARK TECHNOLOGIES-- definitely worth checking out once she's found her stuff.
Finally, she pulls open the right drawer. She locks and loads her Glock with a look that's somehow both affectionate and smug, then glances over to see Erik holding his helmet up to the flickering light.
“I’ve always said it takes a very special guy to inspire fear in red and purple,” she says dryly, applying a fresh coat of lipstick in the grainy reflection of the shelves. “I think I just got goosebumps.”
[see the OOC post here before tagging.]
no subject
But on the heels of that yearning came anger-- Charles had come here for this, for the purpose of looting Erik's mind for the truth he knew he was being denied. Erik's mouth tightened as he turned to face him straight on. "Sorry to disappoint you, Charles," he said, not as smoothly as he'd like, but hoping his impassive expression made up for it. "But you won't be reading my mind today."
no subject
"Why do you have that?"
He was blindingly angry that Erik would throw this ultimate roadblock between them, but clearly that was the more pressing question.
no subject
"I told you there was a lot you didn't know," he said. His jaw was tight. "This is only a piece of it."
no subject
It was tantamount to saying he'd stepped into the shoes of the sadistic, mutant-elitist murderer that had ruined his life. Charles had assumed he was already as agitated as he had the capacity to become, but Erik's ownership of that role was unthinkable. It was as though the man he called friend had been replaced. Or blotted from existence. He slammed the side of one tightly fisted hand into the nearby wall.
"What the HELL is wrong with you?!"
no subject
"Nothing." He swallowed, his mouth dry as sand.
no subject
"Erik," he implored with absolute sincerity, gesturing to the wreckage around them as well as Shaw's helmet, "this isn't you. It doesn't have to be like this."
no subject
It always came back to Cuba. He hated the fearful twist in his stomach whenever he thought of it, hated that Charles still had this hold on him, but there was no point in denying it. Where Charles was concerned, he was a coward, and always would be.
"It does have to be like this," he said, finally getting his voice under control. "I know you don't understand, but please believe me when I say it's for the best."
And the desperate I'm sorry that strained on the tip of his tongue? He bit it back, but only just.
no subject
He knew that if he stayed and tried to reason with Erik it wouldn't go well -he was close to knocking his block off for being so bloody stubborn and fatalistic, so Charles crossed his arms and prepared to turn on his heel.
"I know you, Erik. Like it or not. Shutting me out is your choice to make, but I absolutely know it's the wrong one."
no subject
"Believe it or not, Charles, you don't know everything about me. Not anymore." He wanted to say more, but judging by the look on Charles's face, he'd said more than enough.
And then Charles spun on a dime, striding off without another word. Once he was gone, Erik sagged, letting his shoulder bear his weight as he leaned against one of the rows of shelves. He knew he ought to feel satisfied with himself, but all he really felt was tired.
The great Magneto, he thought, straightening with a grim half-smile. Raven told me I was the villain of the tale. Looks like I'm finally starting to play my part.