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xp_logsIllyana warns Topaz about the dangers of magic in Limbo.
Topaz had removed herself from the rest of the group, settling at the edge of the cave and looking out at the barren landscape, after claiming a candy bar to eat. She had exhausted a lot of energy on the zombies, as much as she didn't want to admit it, and she was exhausted. She was nibbling on the candy bar now, eyes distant. Stupid old Topaz, getting into trouble again. Twice in one month, even. That was a new record.
It wasn't that Illyana wanted to talk to anyone right now; she was so tired she felt sick instead of tired, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Rather, the sense of grudging obligation sitting like a rock in her throat made it impossible not to: Not only was this her fault, but it was her place, too, in a way. So once a fire was going and they'd figured out what the hell was going on, she made her way back to Topaz - someone else she barely knew, and had been keeping it that way the same way she did with all the other magic people - and tried to decide what to say. Finally, she said, "So . . . I wanted to say that you need to be careful here. With the magic. Your magic. It's not - " She paused, glancing over her shoulder, and exhaled, quietly, a resignation. "Whatever you're used to, it's not that. Almost nothing here is safe to use."
"People are," Topaz said almost without thinking, and without taking her eyes away from the outside. It took her a moment too long to realize that was probably confusing to Illyana. "I use emotions to power my magic. You know, go into your head, pull 'em out, turn them into magical energy." She said all that a little too matter-of-factly. She had gotten used to everyone understanding how her magic worked. "Wouldn't do that to you, though," she added. "I've had some morals beaten into me."
Illyana sat down, abruptly out of the energy it would take to keep standing; this also gave her the time she needed to process Topaz's words and make sense of them. "Not everything here that looks like a person is a person," she said, ignoring the emotional-vampire aspect because that sounded - like something to worry about another time. "If that makes a difference." She sighed, fidgeting with the strings on her sweatshirt. "It's just - magic is different here. I know some of you guys at the mansion think that it's this, like, neutral power source that's only as good or bad as what you do with it, but it's not like that here." She surprised even herself with this fierceness, and sat back a little bit, but she didn't look away from Topaz.
Topaz finally turned to look at Illyana. She was trying to tell Topaz something important - the least she could do was listen and give it her full attention. She knew Illyana avoided them - she could always feel the hesitation and uncertainty when they were anywhere near each other. Hell, she felt it now. It practically bled off the girl. "I believe you," she said quietly. "And trust me, I have no plans to go around poking in places that shouldn't be poked at. I like not accidentally frying my brain because I picked up... I dunno, emotionally poisonous. I don't even know if that's possible, but I don't plan on finding out."
Something unknotted itself in Illyana's stomach, even though she knew that promises were cheap. "Okay." She sighed, pulling at a string. "I just know you guys, like, that girl Amanda will just do anything, whatever she wants, and maybe it's different back there." Though her voice clearly indicated that she highly doubted it.
Topaz's jaw tightened the slightest bit. "I'm not Amanda." She might have actually done them some good here. Whereas Topaz was just... here. Another bother.
"Thank God," Illyana said fervently. "That's the last thing we need down here. She'd probably end up corrupting her soul and running the place, if she didn't just die from a really, really stupid idea."
Topaz bit down a snort. "She'd survive. She actually knows what she's doing." That last bit was undeniably bitter. She couldn't help it.
"She thinks so," Illyana returned irritably. "But considering she made me stab my actual soul through her hand a few months ago, and never, like, asked about it or talked about it or bothered to apologize, I think she's basically just lucky." In so many ways. "I'd much rather have you around down here. At least you listen."
Topaz raised an eyebrow. She hadn't heard anything about that, but she tended not to ask what a superspy did in her spare time. "I listen because I don't have a clue. All of this-" She waved a hand out at the endless stretch of nothing, "I don't know what I'm doing." It was something she had never admitted before - never wanted to admit. And to a student she barely knew of all people.
Illyana shrugged, looking over her shoulder at the mouth of the cave, the thick darkness already settling into an eerily-silent night outside. "I mean, at least you know that you don't know. That makes you careful. Which keeps you alive. I mean, usually." She snorted. "It's better than rampaging your way through a situation and only stopping to check if everyone's fine after."
"It also makes me useless." But she was used to that, she supposed. She was always useless. She looked down at her candy bar, suddenly realizing that she wasn't hungry, and she'd barely taken a bite. "Want the rest?" She asked, abruptly changing the subject as she held the bar out to Illyana.
"I'm okay," Illyana said, shaking her head. If it was unlike her to refuse food, the churn of her stomach - regret-grief-shame-fear - was moreso. She tilted her head so that her hair draped over her shoulder, looking at Topaz curiously, and then seemed to dismiss it. "Better save it for later. Unless you like fire roasted mostly-squirrel." Which is what they looked like, whatever their dire origins.
Topaz raised an eyebrow, folding the wrapper around the candy bar and stored the rest in her chocolate. "Think I'll stick to the candy. Vegetarian and all." And roasted mostly squirrel didn't exactly sound the most appetizing.
Illyana looked perplexed. "Vegetarian," she said, "So you eat . . . " She tried to think. "Chicken?" There certainly weren't many of those running around Limbo. Except the direhens down in the marsh, and not only were they in the wrong direction, but no.
It was hard not to smile a bit at that. "No meat," she said. "Kind of a religious thing but at this point mostly habit." She wasn't exactly actively practicing anything.
Illyana wrinkled her nose. "Religious, like . . . Jesus or something?" She seemed to be thinking. "I think I saw some grass outside, if you want a salad."
"Hindu," Topaz corrected. "No Jesus, multiple gods. Like I said, mostly habit. And.... I'm good on the grass, really."
Whatever gods Topaz was interested in, or any other gods at all for that matter, Illyana just hoped they took absolutely no notice of small blondes in or out of hell dimensions. "Okay," she said, standing up with what felt like a huge effort. "I should check on Rahne. Don't go grass hunting by yourself or anything if you get hungry."
~*~
Miles tries to reassure a shaken Rahne that everything will be okay.
Rahne very, very carefully put her bundle of clothes down on a relatively clean (ish) rock in the little cave they were spending the night in. She paused, twitched her ears and then very carefully, again, picked up the pile and moved it to another rock that looked slightly cleaner. Somewhat satisfied, she pulled her hands back to her lap and sighed in relief when her claws came back clean, with no shredded materials on them.
If she managed to get back to her human form, at least her clothes were in one piece.
She tried to get comfortable but this half-way form was ... awkward. Tall, long limbed and very awkward. Growling slightly, she shifted again, trying to fold her legs in a way that didn't hurt.
She suddenly found herself sitting next a metal panel embedded in the ground. Miles appeared from behind the him-sized sword and grinned. "They always do that in video games and it looks so cool. I dunno how they swing these things around without spider-strength, though, know what I mean? It's heavy. You know, for everyone else not me."
Rahne eyed the sword and, despite the jumble of feelings racing around her head, couldn't help but feel a little jealous. It was a really awesome looking sword. "Lucky," she said. "Bringing that back home?" The words were slow and sounded like Rahne was growling with every word but at least she had gotten to the point where she could be mostly understood.
It was hard enough following her with her accent on a good day. But with a snout and those teeth, Miles had to focus carefully like he did when his abuela went full-on boricua. "Uh, yeah. Probably leaving it an the mansion, 'cuz I don' think I can keep it at the dorms. You, uh, doing okay? It's been some kind of day."
She shrugged and looked away for a moment. "Nay really," Rahne said. Her hands curled into balls until the sharp claws pricked her palms and she quickly shook them out. "I'm stuck like this - again - in Limbo. Been better. Ye?"
"I'm not taking the ACT in my underwear so at least I know this isn't a nightmare." Miles climbed up the cavern wall and leaned back against it, affording him a view over the sanctuary the party had claimed. Everyone looked about as happy as Rahne did. "This place is weird. Not at all what church says Limbo is. No babies here."
Rahne grimaced and it was a good thing no one who didn't know her was there because the sudden show of a lot of very sharp teeth was not reassuring at all. "Ye're telling me. I'm the religious one." There was going to be a lengthy conversation with her priest when she got back home, if she could ever figure out how to talk about any of this without actually talking about any of it. She tilted her head to stare up at him. "Wish we could trade powers."
Hard pass from Miles, but he wisely chose not to say so out loud. "Are you, like . . . does it hurt? I don't think I've seen you try this since the Slenderbabies. Ay, is this the second demon world I've been in? No, wait, third. There was that place with Clea. What even is life?"
Well, at least Miles had one more dimension/other world thing than she did. Rahne wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse, actually. What even was life? "Hurt? Nay, not really. More...pressure? But healing factor takes away pain." She stopped to catch her breath. Talking was possible, though how she had no idea, but it required effort and concentration. The jaws were not designed for speech. "I avoid this," she admitted, "prefer full wolf."
"I guess. It's good for fighting zombies, at least, right? You can talk, your claws look a lot more wicked than a regular wolf's. And we're probably gonna fight a lot more here, so, it's good in a way. I guess that's not really reassuring, though."
Rahne's head dropped slightly as she broke eye contact with Miles. She stared down at the claws that tipped both her hands and feet, felt that familiar surge of fear and disgust that followed her whenever she was in this form. If younger just manifesting her thought her wolf form was demonic, she had no idea what was coming. "I guess," she said slowly. "It's...I scare myself, don't like this form. How..."
She thought about what she wanted to ask, the words she would need. "Ye fight. Yer good, aye? Why?"
Miles cocked his head. "Why do I fight good? I mean, I train a lot. The other Spider-Man taught me lots of tricks 'cuz, you know, same powers. And then Scott's taught me a lot more."
"Nay, why fight? Why start fighting?" It occurred to her that she'd never asked him once about any of the whole Spider-Man thing once it was revealed that it was actually him. GenX had taught her defense but the idea of actually fighting seemed almost alien to her.
"Oh." Miles looked around the cave again, surveying the collection of superhuman power condensed into this one small space. "First I thought it would be fun, you know? Who doesn't want to be a superhero. Pero like, when I finally met the other Spidey, he told me something: 'With great power there must also come great responsibility.' When you can lift a freakin' car over your head or beat an Olympic gymnast without breaking a sweat, you have to do good, comprendes?"
A sudden selfish impulse came over her and, had she had the ability to word correctly, she might have said she hadn't asked for this. She hadn't wanted to be a mutant, a wolf, a werewolf or a person sucked randomly into alternate dimensions. "Didn't ask for but have to deal with it," she said instead, a strange look crossing on her face that was supposed to be a frown. "What if ye don't want to deal with it?"
Rahne felt like a coward even asking it and she felt her ears flatten against the side of her head - stupid body.
Miles offered her a small smile as some sign of nonjudgmental reassurance. "'Do good' doesn't always mean punching bad people. Do good. Be good. Help people however you can. Because with powers like we have, there's so much potential to be bad. To hurt people."
Holding out her hands, Rahne flexed and grimaced at the sight of the muscles and the sharp, black claws. "Scared of that, aye. Scared of becoming a monster inside. But also scared of not helping and others hurting because I just - sat." She looked back at Miles. "Any regrets?"
"Only about a thousand. Sometimes even when you try your best things don't go right. Last year, I . . ." He paused to a second, collecting his thoughts. "Long story, I thought I saved someone's life. A really bad person but, you know, I can't just let someone die. But . . . I did. I tried. But he still . . . and I don't know if-if the person trying to kill him did it, or if when I caught him with my web I did it . . . So, yeah, regrets."
She let out a deep sigh at that, like a balloon letting out all of the air inside. "I'm sorry," Rahne said, knowing those words were inadequate but wanting to say them anyway. "That's terrible." But she was grateful that Miles had shared, though it scared her to know that everyone when someone tried their best, it wasn't always good enough. "But ye still tried."
Rahne looked around the cave, at the mixed group of people there - some she barely knew, others she cared for deeply. What would happen if she didn't pull her weight and at least try? "So will I, at least here. But if I try, can I also try yer sword? Werewolf with sword, new action hero."
Miles tried not to snort in response. He mostly succeeded. "Yeah, if you can lift it, sure. It's like a million pounds. Let's be real, it's totally useless, it just looks so freaking sweet. Maybe if there's materia in Limbo, though. Hmm . . ."
~*~
Warren wanders off on his own and encounters Felicia . . . but not quite her.
Warren grumbled, still pissed off at the evening's turn of events. He was stuck in Hell with people he hated...which was probably the definition of Hell anyways. Pre-teens, teenagers, snarky latinos (Miles was exempt). Not fun.
It wasn't until he'd stalked off into one of the side tunnels that he realized exactly how vulnerable he really was. No one knew what direction he'd gone, and if he was honest, he wasn't 100 percent sure. Stopping suddenly, he craned his head around, confirming that he could still vaguely hear the shrill whines of his group mates. Warren shuddered. Since he was stopped, he looked around the cave with a more relaxed view. It wasn't your typical cave, although at first glance it appeared to be. Shining minerals in the wall, slight dampness all over, piercing darkness...he'd almost forgotten it was dark.
As if in response to his thoughts, a pinprick of light appeared further down his line of sight, and well, curiousity had always been his weakness. He didn't know how long he walked towards it, all he knew was when he got there, it all made sense.
A small alcove opened up into a cozy setting: a bed, covered in furs, was tucked away in a corner, flanked by two flickering torches. In the centre of the room was a flat rock, propped up to be used as a table, upon which was a simple meal of soup. All of this made perfect sense though in comparison to the next thing he noticed.
"Felicia?!"
Bright green eyes flashed in the firelight, reflective and mirror brilliant. A cautious growling noise had filled the air before swiftly halted for a quiet rumbling as the person, Felicia, smiled, strange dark hair framing the usual face, which fell from behind her ears as she stumbled to her feet, a long pause.
"Oh thank god, you found me!"
A million thoughts swirled around his head. How did she get here? How long had she been here? Why did she dye her hair? At no time did he think this was a trick, or something playing with his mind.
"Are you okay?" He rushed in, eyes filled with worry. "This place isn't safe, you shouldn't be in here alone. Come back to the group, we could use your combat skills.". Warren easily admitted that Felicia could kick his ass.
Felicia curled into him, nose burrowing into the hollow of his collarbone, hands shaking as they smoothed up his body to rest, stuttering further, along the tops of his wings. "I don't know. I'm not hurt but I don't. Know where we are how we-" she cut off suddenly, taking a breath and releasing it. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Not once did Warren stop and wonder what Felicia was doing there. He didn't realize there was something happening, something stopping him from actually thinking. All he knew was he was overwhelmed with emotions at her familiar, smiling, beautiful face. So beautiful. In fact, he felt he could have stood there forever, looking at her, holding her in his arms. "It doesn't matter," he said honestly, holding her tighter. "You're here, and that's all I've ever needed. All I've ever wanted. Don't leave me again."
"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, it was just a moment and then-" Felicia made a soft noise into his shirt, pulling him towards her as she stepped backwards. "I'm yours, I'm always yours."
For the first time in his life, he felt at a complete loss for words. Their mothers had paired them the minute Felicia was born, and in typical them fashion, they'd rebelled immediately from that notion. Sure, pretending to be together made some social events bearable, and having her as an unofficial fiancee kept the paps at bay...
...but there had always been that small part of him that wondered "what if".
And that what if was in front of him. In true Warren fashion, he was leaping without thinking. Felicia was here, she was offering and he was going to taste it.
The back of her legs brushed against soft furs and she smiled, hand too tight in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other on his chest, as she maneuvered him down and seated on the edge of the raised nest. "Tell me what you need, sweet boy..." she murmured, low, inviting, and cruel.
Warren was oblivious to it all. If he had turned his head and looked in the reflection, he would see Felicia for what she was -- a demoness, with a smile full of venom but after the day's disastrous events, he only saw what he wanted: Felicia, completely and utterly his.
Topaz had removed herself from the rest of the group, settling at the edge of the cave and looking out at the barren landscape, after claiming a candy bar to eat. She had exhausted a lot of energy on the zombies, as much as she didn't want to admit it, and she was exhausted. She was nibbling on the candy bar now, eyes distant. Stupid old Topaz, getting into trouble again. Twice in one month, even. That was a new record.
It wasn't that Illyana wanted to talk to anyone right now; she was so tired she felt sick instead of tired, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. Rather, the sense of grudging obligation sitting like a rock in her throat made it impossible not to: Not only was this her fault, but it was her place, too, in a way. So once a fire was going and they'd figured out what the hell was going on, she made her way back to Topaz - someone else she barely knew, and had been keeping it that way the same way she did with all the other magic people - and tried to decide what to say. Finally, she said, "So . . . I wanted to say that you need to be careful here. With the magic. Your magic. It's not - " She paused, glancing over her shoulder, and exhaled, quietly, a resignation. "Whatever you're used to, it's not that. Almost nothing here is safe to use."
"People are," Topaz said almost without thinking, and without taking her eyes away from the outside. It took her a moment too long to realize that was probably confusing to Illyana. "I use emotions to power my magic. You know, go into your head, pull 'em out, turn them into magical energy." She said all that a little too matter-of-factly. She had gotten used to everyone understanding how her magic worked. "Wouldn't do that to you, though," she added. "I've had some morals beaten into me."
Illyana sat down, abruptly out of the energy it would take to keep standing; this also gave her the time she needed to process Topaz's words and make sense of them. "Not everything here that looks like a person is a person," she said, ignoring the emotional-vampire aspect because that sounded - like something to worry about another time. "If that makes a difference." She sighed, fidgeting with the strings on her sweatshirt. "It's just - magic is different here. I know some of you guys at the mansion think that it's this, like, neutral power source that's only as good or bad as what you do with it, but it's not like that here." She surprised even herself with this fierceness, and sat back a little bit, but she didn't look away from Topaz.
Topaz finally turned to look at Illyana. She was trying to tell Topaz something important - the least she could do was listen and give it her full attention. She knew Illyana avoided them - she could always feel the hesitation and uncertainty when they were anywhere near each other. Hell, she felt it now. It practically bled off the girl. "I believe you," she said quietly. "And trust me, I have no plans to go around poking in places that shouldn't be poked at. I like not accidentally frying my brain because I picked up... I dunno, emotionally poisonous. I don't even know if that's possible, but I don't plan on finding out."
Something unknotted itself in Illyana's stomach, even though she knew that promises were cheap. "Okay." She sighed, pulling at a string. "I just know you guys, like, that girl Amanda will just do anything, whatever she wants, and maybe it's different back there." Though her voice clearly indicated that she highly doubted it.
Topaz's jaw tightened the slightest bit. "I'm not Amanda." She might have actually done them some good here. Whereas Topaz was just... here. Another bother.
"Thank God," Illyana said fervently. "That's the last thing we need down here. She'd probably end up corrupting her soul and running the place, if she didn't just die from a really, really stupid idea."
Topaz bit down a snort. "She'd survive. She actually knows what she's doing." That last bit was undeniably bitter. She couldn't help it.
"She thinks so," Illyana returned irritably. "But considering she made me stab my actual soul through her hand a few months ago, and never, like, asked about it or talked about it or bothered to apologize, I think she's basically just lucky." In so many ways. "I'd much rather have you around down here. At least you listen."
Topaz raised an eyebrow. She hadn't heard anything about that, but she tended not to ask what a superspy did in her spare time. "I listen because I don't have a clue. All of this-" She waved a hand out at the endless stretch of nothing, "I don't know what I'm doing." It was something she had never admitted before - never wanted to admit. And to a student she barely knew of all people.
Illyana shrugged, looking over her shoulder at the mouth of the cave, the thick darkness already settling into an eerily-silent night outside. "I mean, at least you know that you don't know. That makes you careful. Which keeps you alive. I mean, usually." She snorted. "It's better than rampaging your way through a situation and only stopping to check if everyone's fine after."
"It also makes me useless." But she was used to that, she supposed. She was always useless. She looked down at her candy bar, suddenly realizing that she wasn't hungry, and she'd barely taken a bite. "Want the rest?" She asked, abruptly changing the subject as she held the bar out to Illyana.
"I'm okay," Illyana said, shaking her head. If it was unlike her to refuse food, the churn of her stomach - regret-grief-shame-fear - was moreso. She tilted her head so that her hair draped over her shoulder, looking at Topaz curiously, and then seemed to dismiss it. "Better save it for later. Unless you like fire roasted mostly-squirrel." Which is what they looked like, whatever their dire origins.
Topaz raised an eyebrow, folding the wrapper around the candy bar and stored the rest in her chocolate. "Think I'll stick to the candy. Vegetarian and all." And roasted mostly squirrel didn't exactly sound the most appetizing.
Illyana looked perplexed. "Vegetarian," she said, "So you eat . . . " She tried to think. "Chicken?" There certainly weren't many of those running around Limbo. Except the direhens down in the marsh, and not only were they in the wrong direction, but no.
It was hard not to smile a bit at that. "No meat," she said. "Kind of a religious thing but at this point mostly habit." She wasn't exactly actively practicing anything.
Illyana wrinkled her nose. "Religious, like . . . Jesus or something?" She seemed to be thinking. "I think I saw some grass outside, if you want a salad."
"Hindu," Topaz corrected. "No Jesus, multiple gods. Like I said, mostly habit. And.... I'm good on the grass, really."
Whatever gods Topaz was interested in, or any other gods at all for that matter, Illyana just hoped they took absolutely no notice of small blondes in or out of hell dimensions. "Okay," she said, standing up with what felt like a huge effort. "I should check on Rahne. Don't go grass hunting by yourself or anything if you get hungry."
~*~
Miles tries to reassure a shaken Rahne that everything will be okay.
Rahne very, very carefully put her bundle of clothes down on a relatively clean (ish) rock in the little cave they were spending the night in. She paused, twitched her ears and then very carefully, again, picked up the pile and moved it to another rock that looked slightly cleaner. Somewhat satisfied, she pulled her hands back to her lap and sighed in relief when her claws came back clean, with no shredded materials on them.
If she managed to get back to her human form, at least her clothes were in one piece.
She tried to get comfortable but this half-way form was ... awkward. Tall, long limbed and very awkward. Growling slightly, she shifted again, trying to fold her legs in a way that didn't hurt.
She suddenly found herself sitting next a metal panel embedded in the ground. Miles appeared from behind the him-sized sword and grinned. "They always do that in video games and it looks so cool. I dunno how they swing these things around without spider-strength, though, know what I mean? It's heavy. You know, for everyone else not me."
Rahne eyed the sword and, despite the jumble of feelings racing around her head, couldn't help but feel a little jealous. It was a really awesome looking sword. "Lucky," she said. "Bringing that back home?" The words were slow and sounded like Rahne was growling with every word but at least she had gotten to the point where she could be mostly understood.
It was hard enough following her with her accent on a good day. But with a snout and those teeth, Miles had to focus carefully like he did when his abuela went full-on boricua. "Uh, yeah. Probably leaving it an the mansion, 'cuz I don' think I can keep it at the dorms. You, uh, doing okay? It's been some kind of day."
She shrugged and looked away for a moment. "Nay really," Rahne said. Her hands curled into balls until the sharp claws pricked her palms and she quickly shook them out. "I'm stuck like this - again - in Limbo. Been better. Ye?"
"I'm not taking the ACT in my underwear so at least I know this isn't a nightmare." Miles climbed up the cavern wall and leaned back against it, affording him a view over the sanctuary the party had claimed. Everyone looked about as happy as Rahne did. "This place is weird. Not at all what church says Limbo is. No babies here."
Rahne grimaced and it was a good thing no one who didn't know her was there because the sudden show of a lot of very sharp teeth was not reassuring at all. "Ye're telling me. I'm the religious one." There was going to be a lengthy conversation with her priest when she got back home, if she could ever figure out how to talk about any of this without actually talking about any of it. She tilted her head to stare up at him. "Wish we could trade powers."
Hard pass from Miles, but he wisely chose not to say so out loud. "Are you, like . . . does it hurt? I don't think I've seen you try this since the Slenderbabies. Ay, is this the second demon world I've been in? No, wait, third. There was that place with Clea. What even is life?"
Well, at least Miles had one more dimension/other world thing than she did. Rahne wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse, actually. What even was life? "Hurt? Nay, not really. More...pressure? But healing factor takes away pain." She stopped to catch her breath. Talking was possible, though how she had no idea, but it required effort and concentration. The jaws were not designed for speech. "I avoid this," she admitted, "prefer full wolf."
"I guess. It's good for fighting zombies, at least, right? You can talk, your claws look a lot more wicked than a regular wolf's. And we're probably gonna fight a lot more here, so, it's good in a way. I guess that's not really reassuring, though."
Rahne's head dropped slightly as she broke eye contact with Miles. She stared down at the claws that tipped both her hands and feet, felt that familiar surge of fear and disgust that followed her whenever she was in this form. If younger just manifesting her thought her wolf form was demonic, she had no idea what was coming. "I guess," she said slowly. "It's...I scare myself, don't like this form. How..."
She thought about what she wanted to ask, the words she would need. "Ye fight. Yer good, aye? Why?"
Miles cocked his head. "Why do I fight good? I mean, I train a lot. The other Spider-Man taught me lots of tricks 'cuz, you know, same powers. And then Scott's taught me a lot more."
"Nay, why fight? Why start fighting?" It occurred to her that she'd never asked him once about any of the whole Spider-Man thing once it was revealed that it was actually him. GenX had taught her defense but the idea of actually fighting seemed almost alien to her.
"Oh." Miles looked around the cave again, surveying the collection of superhuman power condensed into this one small space. "First I thought it would be fun, you know? Who doesn't want to be a superhero. Pero like, when I finally met the other Spidey, he told me something: 'With great power there must also come great responsibility.' When you can lift a freakin' car over your head or beat an Olympic gymnast without breaking a sweat, you have to do good, comprendes?"
A sudden selfish impulse came over her and, had she had the ability to word correctly, she might have said she hadn't asked for this. She hadn't wanted to be a mutant, a wolf, a werewolf or a person sucked randomly into alternate dimensions. "Didn't ask for but have to deal with it," she said instead, a strange look crossing on her face that was supposed to be a frown. "What if ye don't want to deal with it?"
Rahne felt like a coward even asking it and she felt her ears flatten against the side of her head - stupid body.
Miles offered her a small smile as some sign of nonjudgmental reassurance. "'Do good' doesn't always mean punching bad people. Do good. Be good. Help people however you can. Because with powers like we have, there's so much potential to be bad. To hurt people."
Holding out her hands, Rahne flexed and grimaced at the sight of the muscles and the sharp, black claws. "Scared of that, aye. Scared of becoming a monster inside. But also scared of not helping and others hurting because I just - sat." She looked back at Miles. "Any regrets?"
"Only about a thousand. Sometimes even when you try your best things don't go right. Last year, I . . ." He paused to a second, collecting his thoughts. "Long story, I thought I saved someone's life. A really bad person but, you know, I can't just let someone die. But . . . I did. I tried. But he still . . . and I don't know if-if the person trying to kill him did it, or if when I caught him with my web I did it . . . So, yeah, regrets."
She let out a deep sigh at that, like a balloon letting out all of the air inside. "I'm sorry," Rahne said, knowing those words were inadequate but wanting to say them anyway. "That's terrible." But she was grateful that Miles had shared, though it scared her to know that everyone when someone tried their best, it wasn't always good enough. "But ye still tried."
Rahne looked around the cave, at the mixed group of people there - some she barely knew, others she cared for deeply. What would happen if she didn't pull her weight and at least try? "So will I, at least here. But if I try, can I also try yer sword? Werewolf with sword, new action hero."
Miles tried not to snort in response. He mostly succeeded. "Yeah, if you can lift it, sure. It's like a million pounds. Let's be real, it's totally useless, it just looks so freaking sweet. Maybe if there's materia in Limbo, though. Hmm . . ."
~*~
Warren wanders off on his own and encounters Felicia . . . but not quite her.
Warren grumbled, still pissed off at the evening's turn of events. He was stuck in Hell with people he hated...which was probably the definition of Hell anyways. Pre-teens, teenagers, snarky latinos (Miles was exempt). Not fun.
It wasn't until he'd stalked off into one of the side tunnels that he realized exactly how vulnerable he really was. No one knew what direction he'd gone, and if he was honest, he wasn't 100 percent sure. Stopping suddenly, he craned his head around, confirming that he could still vaguely hear the shrill whines of his group mates. Warren shuddered. Since he was stopped, he looked around the cave with a more relaxed view. It wasn't your typical cave, although at first glance it appeared to be. Shining minerals in the wall, slight dampness all over, piercing darkness...he'd almost forgotten it was dark.
As if in response to his thoughts, a pinprick of light appeared further down his line of sight, and well, curiousity had always been his weakness. He didn't know how long he walked towards it, all he knew was when he got there, it all made sense.
A small alcove opened up into a cozy setting: a bed, covered in furs, was tucked away in a corner, flanked by two flickering torches. In the centre of the room was a flat rock, propped up to be used as a table, upon which was a simple meal of soup. All of this made perfect sense though in comparison to the next thing he noticed.
"Felicia?!"
Bright green eyes flashed in the firelight, reflective and mirror brilliant. A cautious growling noise had filled the air before swiftly halted for a quiet rumbling as the person, Felicia, smiled, strange dark hair framing the usual face, which fell from behind her ears as she stumbled to her feet, a long pause.
"Oh thank god, you found me!"
A million thoughts swirled around his head. How did she get here? How long had she been here? Why did she dye her hair? At no time did he think this was a trick, or something playing with his mind.
"Are you okay?" He rushed in, eyes filled with worry. "This place isn't safe, you shouldn't be in here alone. Come back to the group, we could use your combat skills.". Warren easily admitted that Felicia could kick his ass.
Felicia curled into him, nose burrowing into the hollow of his collarbone, hands shaking as they smoothed up his body to rest, stuttering further, along the tops of his wings. "I don't know. I'm not hurt but I don't. Know where we are how we-" she cut off suddenly, taking a breath and releasing it. "Are you okay? What happened?"
Not once did Warren stop and wonder what Felicia was doing there. He didn't realize there was something happening, something stopping him from actually thinking. All he knew was he was overwhelmed with emotions at her familiar, smiling, beautiful face. So beautiful. In fact, he felt he could have stood there forever, looking at her, holding her in his arms. "It doesn't matter," he said honestly, holding her tighter. "You're here, and that's all I've ever needed. All I've ever wanted. Don't leave me again."
"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, it was just a moment and then-" Felicia made a soft noise into his shirt, pulling him towards her as she stepped backwards. "I'm yours, I'm always yours."
For the first time in his life, he felt at a complete loss for words. Their mothers had paired them the minute Felicia was born, and in typical them fashion, they'd rebelled immediately from that notion. Sure, pretending to be together made some social events bearable, and having her as an unofficial fiancee kept the paps at bay...
...but there had always been that small part of him that wondered "what if".
And that what if was in front of him. In true Warren fashion, he was leaping without thinking. Felicia was here, she was offering and he was going to taste it.
The back of her legs brushed against soft furs and she smiled, hand too tight in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other on his chest, as she maneuvered him down and seated on the edge of the raised nest. "Tell me what you need, sweet boy..." she murmured, low, inviting, and cruel.
Warren was oblivious to it all. If he had turned his head and looked in the reflection, he would see Felicia for what she was -- a demoness, with a smile full of venom but after the day's disastrous events, he only saw what he wanted: Felicia, completely and utterly his.
