Memories

[tarot]

(( aw, thank you so much *blushes*, glad to be back and r-ping! ))
Tarot's grip is still tight on Damien's hand so that she is almost dragged behind him as he stands up to walk towards Warren. He is an amazing sight, she must admit, and if she didn't recognise him from the Institute she probably would be drawn to him like Damien is now. She doesn't want to talk to him, she hasn't before so why start now? She feels so awkward, protesting feebly as her boyfriend moves towards an almost miracle of a sight, a real life angel so it would seem.

She conterpulls, turning him round gently to face her. "Please Damien, lets just go" she pleads pathetically. "We can go to Germany now, make a long week end of it, just you and me..." She kisses him deeply but all the passion has gone making the embrace an act of desperation.

She wishes that she could suddenly spurt wings, grab Damien's warm hand and fly away from this place. She wants to be alone with Damien, lost in the moment instead of dreading the next one. Her euphoria has dispelled and has been replaced with fear and embarrassment. What happens if Warren ruins her carefully crafted illusion? Damien would probably run as fast as he could, leaving her all alone, never again to feel the electric touch of his lips on hers. She can't face loosing him, not after only just discovering him.

He is still moving towards the winged familiar stranger, "Please Damien, let's get another coffee, my treat." Her pleading is to no avail, he seems determined despite the desperation in her trembling voice.

[Damien Schwartz]

He notices her desperation, and he feels that the kiss is almost cold, lifeless. He stops, wondering what has happened to produce such a change. "What is wrong? Just tell me. You know you can tell me everything." he says, looking at her eyes.

He does not like what he sees there, and he wants it gone. His hands grab hold of her shoulders (after the one was freed from the very painful crushing grip), and he pulls her in closer. "Look, if it's anything from the past, I don't care. Even if it's something that happened five minutes ago, it's not a problem, OK? You can tell me, Tarot." his voice is in a melodic, almost hypnotizing tone, if nothing else, it is extremely persuasive, a tone Damien never knew he had.

He starts stroking her hair once more, now having turned his back to the winged appearance. "Come on, tell me. You know you can trust me." he repeats in the same hypnotizing voice, German accent decorating it. "Germany can wait..."

[tarot]

(( uber monster of a post *mwah ha ha, dances armed with spoon/fork* ))

Large, uncontrollable, salty tears begin to roll down Tarot's cheeks once more. She hastily wipes her eyes on her sleeve, but it is impossible to hide the overwhelming surge of emotions that are filling her. Even Damien's soft and caring hands stroking her hair does not comfort her but only makes her feel guilty about creating a charade of life in the Institute.

She feels devastated, terrified that anything she says to him may ruin their perfect relationship, making it a fleeting fairytale romance. She trusts him implicitly and loves him deeply, making it harder to tell him the truth because she is so desperate not to loose him.

She takes his hand again, gently this time. She pulls him slightly, feeling a willingness in him to follow. She leads him quickly past the coffee counter, past the angel in the midst of the crowd who had caused her disturbance, and out of the door.

The rain has stopped but it is still freezing and stormy, emulating her inner termoil in an almost lyrical and poetic manner. In front of the couple, there stands a stone fountain that would have been crowded on a summer's day but now looks ominous and deserted. She shivers slightly, not from the cold but with anxiety at the impending doom that she is certain will ensue.

Still holding his hand, she leads him to sit on its edge and follows suit, placing herself close to him. She doesn't want to tell him anything, but feels compelled to by his almost hypnotic voice. Also, it feels dishonest and evil to hide things from her lover, especially as she is so eager to take things further.

But the minute he knows about me, all chances for future happiness will disappear.

She takes both his hands gently, stroking them slightly, trying to disperse her nerves. She looks him in the face, trembling slightly. "I have a lot to tell you, and I'm not sure that you will understand or like it all."

Tears are still falling down her cheeks, slower than before but still ever present. They are the tears of an artist who is about to destroy a beautiful canvas that they haave slaved over.

She takes a deep breath.

"I've done some things that I am definately not proud of Damien, things that I regret wholeheartedly, things that only people who were involved know of." She looks into her lap. "I ran away from my foster home to look for people who were like me. I ended up in New Orleans, alone and frightened. I turned to petty crime, the only way that I could possibly survive on the harsh streets among the vodoo and the creeps."

She looks up into his face, her eyes pleading. "You have to believe me though, I would have done anything to avoid that life but their was no other option. I would have died if I hadn't turned to crime, I had nothing."

She looks ashamedly into her lap once more. He deserves to now evrything now. She takes another deep breath, the air catching slighlty in her throat. "It was there a met another mutant, the man in the photo. I knew that he was different but at the same time, tortured like I was. I was drawn to the danger, I felt like I truly belonged with him."

She can't look at Damien in the face, she feels so naked, no one else knows about her past and it feels so alien to lay it bare in front of him.

"The inevitable happened," she continues. "We became lovers. He seemed perfect but......" The tears come faster once more. "He broke my heart."

She pauses, feeling her face go whiter than ever. The fear of loosing him fills her from head to toe so that it is her constant companion.

"It's his fault that I'm here at the Institute. He abandoned m there when he had fill." She feels very angry now, her grip intensifying. "It's his fault that I can't open up to anyone."

"Proffessor Xavier took me in staright awya, of course, into his make believe mutant family." She looks into his eyes, a panicked expression on her face, almost savage and primitive. Her voice becomes quicker and of a much higher pitch.

"I don't belong here Damien, I don't fit anywhere. I have no friends, no 'family'. No one knows I exist, no one would mourn for me if I died, no one would notice if I disappeared. I feel so lonely there, so desperate for companionship and something resembling love that I have to create false figures from the images on my tarot deck. I have to abuse my powers so that I can have someone. I don't feel intimacy. I fear that I'm going mad, if I haven't gone already."

She sobs deeply, struggling for breath. "I love you Damien." She kisses him through her veil of tears, shaking more with the onset of a panick attack. She can't face having the last fragments of her heart ripped apart again.

The rain begins to fall again, soaking into their very bones and adding to her growin dispair.

[Damien Schwartz]

((so, basically, it's a spork))

"So for this reason you have constructed an illusion of a wonderful life there for me, so that, if I come, you won't be lonely any more." Damien concludes, his voice emotionless, merely one that is filled with understanding.

But then his eyes shift to show a sort of mix between compassion, understanding, sadness, and perhaps happiness as well. "But how can't you understand it, Marie? I love you, and I would have wanted to go there even if it was hell itself, merely because you are there. As I told you earlier, what has happened has happened, and you can't change it, so don't stop in the past, because if you do, you will whither there."

He suddenly stands up, hauling her up with him as well. "Now come, you surely haven't even met the poor guy yet!" his voice is now cheerful, as if they were having a normal chat just a second ago.

((crappy, sorry, my muse seems to have decided to retire, I have to find a new one))

[Warren Worthington III]

Well... that was odd.

Not that he hasn't grown accustomed to people running off at the sight of him, but it's usually the strangers who do it and the friends who stick around. And unless he misread that little scene completely, Hair Gel Boy had been interested to meet him before Red dragged him away.

Not that he and Red are friends exactly, granted... heck, he doesn't even remember her name. But he's pretty sure he hasn't done anything to offend her. And they are fellow students, and that's supposed to be worth something, right? So he just doesn't get it.

Unless... oh. Right. Unless he doesn't know she's a mutant and she doesn't want him finding out. That would make sense. Though Gel-Boy's reaction to the wings didn't seem that of a bigot... he seemed interested before Red dragged him off into the rain. Interesting. Maybe she's projecting.

Or maybe he's the one doing the projecting, and none of this has anything to do with him or his wings or the whole mutant/human thing. It's an occupational hazard of activism, he supposes, that he sees everything that happens in terms of his particular cause.

It's started raining again, and Red and her boyfriend are being all dramatic and raindrenched out on the street. Probably professing their undying love for each other or some such thing. He could probably tune in their conversation if he listened carefully enough, but he has no interest in eavesdropping.

His coffee is ready, and he pays for it. The woman behind the counter flinches a bit as their hands almost touch, and he puts on Disarming Smile #5. "Don't worry miss. They aren't contagious." She has the grace to look embarassed, at least... which is something. Warren knows how close this city is to having "Mutants Not Welcome" signs on shop windows, and sometimes he wonders if his public persona is really helping stave that off, or if he's bringing it closer.

He's suddenly glad he's practiced the smile, the easy banter, the charm. Because right now he's just tired of the whole charade, and if it wasn't second nature he'd probably drop it, make some kind of melodramatic scene.

Instead he sits down on one of the overstuffed chairs, drinks his coffee, smiles at the crowd that has clustered around him. The smile doesn't reach his eyes... but then, they aren't looking him in the eye anyway.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

Josh is walking quickly down the street, ducking under awnings whenever possible. A casual passerby might notice that, strangely, he isn't wet at all.

The trick is to apply more power in the center, or I get a pool of water hovering over my head. He imagines that if Ms. Munroe caught him with a telekinetic umbrella he would be in a lot of trouble.

He walks into the coffee shop, past a pair of angsty-looking teens on the sidewalk. It's raining, people. Jeez. He sees Warren sitting in a chair, and waves.

"Can I get a grande carmel apple cider? Thanks." He pays for his drink, waiting while they make it, and ambles over to a chair next to the winged boy.

"Thanks for the invite to the concert party! I'm really looking forward to it." He smiles as he takes a sip. "Tape any good shows lately?" He grins.

[Warren Worthington III]

Warren is surreptitiously watching Red and Hair-Gel-Buy making out in the rain, trying to decide if it's romantic or just impractical, and waiting for the rain to stop (he can fly in the rain, but it isn't much fun) when another student comes by -- John? No, that was the one who left. Jack? Josh? Yeah, that was it: Josh.

He wonders idly if there was some kind of gathering he'd interrupted, but no, they don't even seem to notice each other, and unlike Red Josh doesn't seem embarassed to admit to knowing him. He waves back, then notices Josh is completely dry.

Heh... wonder how he manages that.

> "Thanks for the invite to the concert party! I'm really looking forward to it. [..] Tape any good shows lately?"

Warren grins back, amiably. "Heh. I don't know about 'good' -- my TiVo's got about six hours worth of interview and talk shows I've appeared on that I've been too nervous about to even watch. I might just delete them." He shrugs.

"And no worries about the party... I scored the tickets out of the blue, and it's good to bring friends. Hope you enjoy it."

He takes a long sip from his coffee, trying not to think too much about the fact that his best "friends" are mostly people he's barely met. Because really, he's been doing too much moping around lately, and it's getting old. And, hey, this is an opportunity to get to know one of them better, right?

"So, tell me Josh -- it is Josh, right? -- how do you manage to stay dry in this kind of rain?"

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

"It must be hard to be in the public eye like you are. I have to say, I admire you working for mutant rights. Makes me feel a little guilty to be psionic." Josh chews at his lip for a second. "It's so much easier to just... pretend to be normal, you know? Instead of letting others know."

Josh really did admire Warren - if he had wings like his, as beautiful as they were, he would think twice about walking around in public with them. He was a brave guy... or didn't care what others thought.

>"So, tell me Josh -- it is Josh, right? -- how do you manage to stay dry in this kind of rain?"

"Oh - yeah, it's Josh. I know you haven't been around too much." He takes a drink of his cider. "Trade secret. Kind of, anyway. When the weather broke, I was in town, so I formed a telekinetic shield. It worked pretty well on the rain - something I haven't used it for yet." He smiles. "If you're looking to get back to the mansion, I can see how far I can extend my coverage."

He looks out the front window. "Any clue as to what's up with those two out there?" He nods at the soaking couple outside.

[Warren Worthington III]

Warren laughs and holds both hands up for a second, the gesture echoed by his wingtips.

"Hey, don't forget I'm also the guy who spent years strapping these things down in a harness that makes a transvestite's underwear seem comfy by comparison, and was about three seconds from agreeing to be the first Cure victim -- um, recipient -- in the world. And you really don't want to hear about what I used to do to keep from being found out."

He shrugs.

"Honestly, if I could hide as easily as you and most of the other kids can, I'dve probably gone back in that closet so fast you'd think I was Nightcrawler. But at some point it just got to be more work to stay hidden than to come out, you know? So, I did."

"And I'll tell you something, Josh... it's not as bad as it sounds on TV.." He's leaning forward intently now, punctuating his points with both hand and wing gestures, clearly invested in what he's saying. "I mean, sure, there's a lot of anti-mutant zealots out there, but they're actually a pretty small minority. They just make a lot of noise, and that means they get the press coverage, just like the Brotherhood gets more press when they go around killing people than the X-Men ever get for saving them, let alone the average mutant-on-the-street who's just trying to get by."

"Hell, you'd be amazed the amount of, um" he blushes a bit, "positive attention I've been getting since I went public. I mean, not that I'm saying everybody ought to do it, I'm just saying it's easy to forget that most people really just don't give a damn one way or the other, and are more worried about their own lives than whether I've got wings or not."

He laughs, suddenly, for no obvious reason. "And you've caught me just after an interview and overcaffeinated and you're getting Stock Lecture Number Six instead of an actual conversation, and I'm sorry.

"So, let's change the subject: telekinetic shield, huh? Neat. Dr. McCoy -- who, incidentally, doesn't find Star Trek jokes funny, if you've ever been tempted -- says I've got some of the same kind of mojo, but nothing like yours... just augments my carrying capacity and stuff. Still, if you're up to giving lessons on 101 uses for telekinesis and don't mind a mental midget for a student, I'll sign up in a flash!

"And in the meantime, yeah, if you think you can play windshield I'd happily let you fly Air Worthington back to the Institute... sooner I get a shower after those footlights, happier I'll be."

>"Any clue as to what's up with those two out there?"

"Not so much, no. I recognize Red from the Institute, sorta, but she dragged Hairgelboy out of here as soon as she noticed me. My guess is she figured he'd figure she was one of the Trouble Helix Brigade if I said hi to her and she hasn't gotten around to mentioning that little secret, but I don't really know." He shrugs again. "Like I said, eventually it just gets easier not to hide."

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

"No problem at all. I like that you're being a role model for other mutants, as well as normal humans. It's good for them to see a mutant in press that isn't destroying the Golden Gate Bridge," at this his eyes roll back into his head, "or blowing up buildings, you know?"

>"So, let's change the subject: telekinetic shield, huh? Neat. Dr. McCoy -- who, incidentally, doesn't find Star Trek jokes funny, if you've ever been tempted -- says I've got some of the same kind of mojo, but nothing like yours... just augments my carrying capacity and stuff. Still, if you're up to giving lessons on 101 uses for telekinesis and don't mind a mental midget for a student, I'll sign up in a flash!

"And in the meantime, yeah, if you think you can play windshield I'd happily let you fly Air Worthington back to the Institute... sooner I get a shower after those footlights, happier I'll be."

He takes a drink. "I doubt you're a "midget" in any sense, Warren." He laughs a little. "I'd be happy to give you some TK training if you don't mind learning it from a student. It's interesting that you find it natural to apply it to yourself, though. I've tried to lift myself with my powers and it's been messy - it's hard to affect myself. In theory I should be able to use it to jump higher, even float."

He listens to Warren's response on the two outside.
"I have no problem playing umbrella, whenever you're ready to return to the Institute. I'm not worried about being seen with you, in any case."

"Are you doing anything tonight?" He asks curiously. "I haven't seen you spending too much time around the Mansion. If you want, you could hang out with some of the older students tonight - it could be fun." He finishes up his drink.

[tarot]

Tarot pulls Damien round so that he is facing her and takes both his hands, asserting her control of the situation. Tears still streaming down her face, she places his hands on the back pockets of his jeans so that he is pulling her waist close in to his. There is vertually no space between them as she goes in for the kiss. His lips are soft, warm and salty, soaked with both the rain and the tears that run down her cheeks. The rain is pouring down and the wet denim is uncomfortable against her skin but she does not care. All that matters is that he said he loves her and that she loves him too, so she kisses him deeply, tracing his shoulder blades with her finger tips in a rythmical, circular motion. If they were alone, they would be doing a lot more than kissing, and Tarot desperately wishes they were.

She withdraws and allows Damien to catch his breath. She moves his mouth to his ear and whispers softly, "Thank you" taking one of his hands from her waist and holding it so that he has one arm protectively around her. She kisses his earlobe tenderly.

"I love you Damien, all I want is to be with you. If you want to meet Angel, then so do I. After all, it could be good to have a friend in the Institute as well as an amazing boyfriend. Anyway, he seems like a perfect Angel." She giggles a little at the cheesy nature of her joke. "Then we can go to Germany and get warm," she looks at him, hoping that he gets her implied meaning.

She looks to where Warren is sat. He has been joined by another person who Tarot does not recognise, especially through the rain. Probably another adoring fan

She kisses Damien's finger tips. "Still want to go?", she asks, prempting his answer.

She feels drawn towards the two, embraced by the bright lights of Starbucks and by Damien's desire. She leads Damien forward with a new found courage, pushing the image of the strength tarot card out of her mind.

[Warren Worthington III]

Warren blushes a little at Josh's compliments. "Well, I don't know about 'role model,' but as for the rest, yeah, that's kinda what I figure. If nobody speaks up about our side of the story, then, well, people get the idea that being a mutant is all about blowing things up, being a supervillain, fighting supervillains, and not about --" he rolls his eyes and continues without missing a beat "-- and I'm doing it again. You keep pressing my 'Play' button, it seems."

"As for training, hey, you may be a student but you've been at this longer than I have. I didn't even know I had anything but the wings until Dr. McCoy -- " and he still wants to chuckle every time he uses that name... maybe he should start using 'Beast' or 'Hank' instead " -- started calculating lift:yield ratios. Or, well, and the healing thing... wouldn't still have the wings, otherwise. But anyway... that's probably why flying with it comes natural for me, the flying comes first."

> "I have no problem playing umbrella, whenever you're ready to return
> to the Institute. I'm not worried about being seen with you, in any case.
> [..] hang out with some of the older students tonight - it could be fun."

Warren flashes a quick grin, then nods seriously. "Thanks, man... that means a lot, actually. And yeah, that sounds great. I've been keeping pretty weird hours since I joined up with you guys, haven't really met most of the students." He drains the last of his beverage, tosses it in the trash, stands up.

"Well, no better time than the present, I guess? Maybe we can trade lessons on the way, or do telekinetic osmosis, or something like that: I'll see if I can pick up your umbrella trick, you see if you can pick up my flight-bolstering? If you can float on your own by the time we get there, dinner's for the gang is on me."

He walks towards the exit as he talks, and is somewhat startled that Red and her partner are coming back inside. He's careful not to admit to recognizing her, just smiles friendlily at both of them as he heads into the revolving door.

[Damien Schwartz]

Once more the supreme sense of invigoration and that of being high, yet in a divine way. He hugs her tightly, and kisses back deeply, his hands holding her tight as if he was trying to take her away from a foe. Once they were done, he sighs. "Look, we're completely drenched, why don't we get dry first, then meet the guys? I think I can blink the humidity out of your clothes, and I can definitely change mine. If you want to go just for a few moments to my hotel room, I can dry us out." he says, and without waiting for an answer blinks them into the room.

He goes to the bathroom and quickly changes, although he goes there merely to give her the respect she so much deserves. After drying his hair out, he comes back and looks at her. "Just stand still, please." and he concentrates hard. Excess water in her clothes and hair, excess water in her clothes and hair... he keeps repeating these thoughts in his head as a type of mantra, and soon enough, there is a relatively large puddle of water in his bath, and her hair and clothes are perfectly dry.

"Um, I have a comb if you want, but I think you look beautiful every way." he says, waiting for an answer. "Want to go to the coffee house again?" and once more, without waiting for an answer, he blinks them under a cover, right outside of Starbucks, and barely four feet away from the angel guy.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

>"Well, no better time than the present, I guess [...]

Josh gets up at the comment. "Yeah, we should probably get back." He follows Warren out of the coffee shop, and nods at the two under the awning. He projects a telekinetic shield over himself and Warren to protect against the driving rain.

"Basically... last time I tried to float I broke an ankle. And am not exactly keen on repeating the experience." Josh closes his eyes and concentrates. He thinks he lifts an inch or so, but isn't sure.

"So... how do you carry passengers? I can teach you how to shield yourself on the way there." Josh was suddenly a little shy. Was Warren really going to fly him back to the Institute? He suddenly grins. Awesome! He'd only been in the Blackbird a few times, but this was going to be way different.

[Warren Worthington III]

Warren watches the telekinetic shield form with a look of wonder on his face. "Wow. That's totally cool." He reaches up to poke at it with a finger, hopping up a few feet into the air and hovering for a few seconds with twitches of his wings. "Absolutely no idea how you do it, though." He shrugs and drops down to the ground again.

> "Basically... last time I tried to float I broke an ankle.
> And am not exactly keen on repeating the experience."

He nods sympathetically. "Yeah, landing is tough. I broke a bunch of bones before getting the hang of it... lucky for me I heal fast. Don't worry about it, though... I'll keep you from landing too hard." He walks behind Josh and wraps his arms lightly around the other student's chest.

"Ready?"

He waits for assent, then crouches for a moment and springs into the air, his wings flaring out and beating furiously, adding gale-force winds to the rain in the area for just a second before launching them both into the air.

Warren is generally more aware of the nonphysical part of his flight when he's carrying something, since he doesn't really have to carry it normally. It was weird at first, holding a 200-pound person up in the air without having to grip particularly hard, but by now he's used to it. This time is particularly weird, though... Josh isn't all that heavy, but more importantly he's never carried a telekinetic before. As Warren's aura and Josh's power overlap and intermingle, it hardly feels like he's doing any work at all.

"Wahooooo!" he yells over the roar of his wings, pushing them for lift until he and Josh are about half a mile off the ground. It never gets old for him, flying... it's one of the greatest feelings in the world.

"So, OK... you want to take the wheel for a while, see how it goes?" With that he stops pushing, locks his wings out to full extension, and moves into an unpowered glide... a rather steep one, since between them they weigh more than his wings can really handle, but shallow enough to give Josh some time to practice.