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.]
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Married to her. The idea was jarring on so many levels.
"Irene Adler." He said again, as if there was some hilarious miscommunication, or possibly out of a momentary dullness of wit.
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