Shatterstar and Rictor - Powers
Jul. 31st, 2023 10:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsShatterstar and Rictor talk about their powers at the quarry and it goes poorly.
Rictor stood at the edge of the quarry, looking down into the deep rocky pit. Training in the Danger Room had been interesting but . . . sterile was the best way to put it. Surrounded by metal and technology, he felt cut off, not quite himself. But here, with the dirt and rocks between his toes, he felt much more comfortable and at ease. Bare feet on the ground also meant the minute vibrations of approaching footsteps did not catch him by surprise. The identity of the generator of those vibrations, though, did.
"Shatterstar? Hola. ¿Qué onda?"
Since meeting Rictor, Shatterstar had started watching a lot more Mexican movies when he was getting ready for bed and had picked up a few phrases here and there that he thought might be useful in conversation with Rictor. He justified it to himself that he found languages easy to learn by ear anyway and it wasn't doing anything special. Besides, he liked having a friend. His movie date with Rictor had been great fun.
"No muchos," he replied and looked down into the quarry. "I'm supposed to be practicing with my powers."
There was an attempt, which Rictor found endearing. Maybe Shatterstar could learn to roll his R's after all. "Here? I can leave if you want the privacy. I was only trying to better know the ground."
Shatterstar moved to stand next to Rictor, holding his hands behind his back. "I didn't really want to practice anyway," he confessed. He didn't hate it as much as he had before Terry had started teaching him but he would uncharacteristically avoid training his powers when he could.
"How do you get to know the ground?" he asked, curious.
Rictor wiggled his feet on the dirt and smiled at Shatterstar. "I . . . listen. It's hard to explain. But the earth is always talking, so learning about it is like learning about a new person. Just listen to them. What is it you do, anyway? I saw the tree, of course, but you didn't say how you did that."
Shatterstar felt some sort of solidarity in what Rictor said. It felt like they both knew secret people, though he couldn't parse rocks and dirt as being alive. But... It seemed like neither of them were ever truly alone. He knocked his elbow against Rictor's bicep. "Vibratory blasts, at least that's what I've been told they're called. I can blow stuff up." He paused and added. "It's fine, I guess."
"Vibratory?" Rictor took a moment to translate that in his head, and his eyes widened in surprise when he realized the connotation. "You are like me. Almost. Because I make the ground shake."
Shatterstar's eyes brightened and he ducked his head slightly at the realization. "And your powers talk to you," he said. Maybe there was some application to his powers that weren't destructive- not that he disliked them for that, but it would be nice to be able to defend as well.
"Not with words. I'm not crazy," Rictor hurried to reassure Shatterstar, unaware of what he was implying about the other boy and his own condition. "Before I learned I am a mutant, I thought this was brujería. Magic. There are spirits and gods, and I prayed to them so they move the earth. That seems very silly now that I have met so many other mutants who have so many different abilities. They don't pray, they just do."
Shatterstar pursed his lips and balled his hands into fists. He didn't want to be angry at Rictor- he liked Rictor- but he had to defend his, and more importantly Benji's honor. He could feel his powers coming from his anger, collecting in his arms and burning. "I wouldn't think you were crazy," he said flatly, staring into the quarry. He tried to tamp his anger down but it was so much more upsetting when someone you liked said things that made you mad.
Rictor noticed the change in tone and he turned slowly to face the other boy. Had he said something wrong? "Pues, a lot of people think that talking to God when you're not at church is crazy. My parents believe that many of the things I believe are crazy because they are not what the Church teaches."
Shatterstar tried to tamp back his powers, but he could tell they were going to come. He managed to hold his arms out and widen his field. He spoke over the low humming, and the air shook slightly. "I've never been to church. If I wanted to talk to God I would have to do it elsewhere. That's not crazy." The rocks below exploded, and Shatterstar was sweating, but his arms were barely sunburned. Terry would be proud. "Sorry. I'm still learning control."
"¿Qué verga?" Falling several steps back, Rictor clutched at his thundering heart. "Warn me next time! I . . ." He couldn't help but notice the reddening on Shatterstar's normally pale white arms, and concern tempered his distress. "Do you change color when you use your powers?"
Shatterstar closed up and glared at Rictor- for bringing attention to the harm his powers brought to his body. "I'm fine," he insisted. And then shrugged a little. "Sorry, it just comes on suddenly sometimes." He didn't seem all that sorry.
"Yeah, no te preocupes." And Rictor didn't seem all that nonchalant. If Shatterstar hadn't been facing the quarry, then Rictor could have been busted into pebbles, too, just like the rocks. Worse, it troubled him about his own abilities. If he had lost control, too, then what would have happened to Shatterstar? A twisted ankle from sinking into the ground, a broken arm from tumbling down into the quarry, or could he have cracked his head open?
As these nightmare scenarios ran unchecked through his mind, he felt the earth respond. Not with the vigor it had back home under his grandparents' spell, but it did not take much to be dangerous. He backed up several meters, begging for the trembling to stop.
Shatterstar tensed at the trembling and backed up as well from the edge of the quarry, almost having been shook into it. Even though he had just explained that his control of his powers was iffy, he glared at Rictor. "Don't do that," he hissed. He was fine, but someone less quick might not have been.
He balled his fists- this was probably an accident, he reminded himself. "Can't you focus on where you do that?" He asked, unthinking.
"No! I don't . . ." Rictor recalled his first powers lessons with Kane not long ago. He could pull back, he had the power. He had to focus, to imagine the energy returning to him and out of the ground. He knelt and placed his hands firmly on the dirt. They say skin-to-skin contact is important for human bonding, so for Rictor, skin-to-earth was vital. Eventually, it stopped and the world was still. He remained in a quadruped position while he fought to catch his breath.
"Sorry. I'm sorry." He couldn't bring himself to meet Shatterstar's face.
"I-" Shatterstar said when faced with Rictor's apology. He didn't know how to feel, having pushed Rictor but the other boy had been able to do it, steadying the ground under his feet.
Rictor had every right to be angry with him. Shatterstar would be angry with him if he was in his place. He looked down at Rictor, realizing he had fucked up this interaction with him.
"I'm sorry," he said, backing up, before turning to walk away, breaking into a run after a little. He couldn't face him and make things worse for him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The younger man was gone before Rictor realized it. Once he was back on his feet, he called out to Shatterstar, but he was already too far to hear (or, perhaps, was purposefully not responding). Rictor's poor impulse control had cost him one of his only friends. He swore and slowly, ashamedly made his way back to the mansion, too.
Rictor stood at the edge of the quarry, looking down into the deep rocky pit. Training in the Danger Room had been interesting but . . . sterile was the best way to put it. Surrounded by metal and technology, he felt cut off, not quite himself. But here, with the dirt and rocks between his toes, he felt much more comfortable and at ease. Bare feet on the ground also meant the minute vibrations of approaching footsteps did not catch him by surprise. The identity of the generator of those vibrations, though, did.
"Shatterstar? Hola. ¿Qué onda?"
Since meeting Rictor, Shatterstar had started watching a lot more Mexican movies when he was getting ready for bed and had picked up a few phrases here and there that he thought might be useful in conversation with Rictor. He justified it to himself that he found languages easy to learn by ear anyway and it wasn't doing anything special. Besides, he liked having a friend. His movie date with Rictor had been great fun.
"No muchos," he replied and looked down into the quarry. "I'm supposed to be practicing with my powers."
There was an attempt, which Rictor found endearing. Maybe Shatterstar could learn to roll his R's after all. "Here? I can leave if you want the privacy. I was only trying to better know the ground."
Shatterstar moved to stand next to Rictor, holding his hands behind his back. "I didn't really want to practice anyway," he confessed. He didn't hate it as much as he had before Terry had started teaching him but he would uncharacteristically avoid training his powers when he could.
"How do you get to know the ground?" he asked, curious.
Rictor wiggled his feet on the dirt and smiled at Shatterstar. "I . . . listen. It's hard to explain. But the earth is always talking, so learning about it is like learning about a new person. Just listen to them. What is it you do, anyway? I saw the tree, of course, but you didn't say how you did that."
Shatterstar felt some sort of solidarity in what Rictor said. It felt like they both knew secret people, though he couldn't parse rocks and dirt as being alive. But... It seemed like neither of them were ever truly alone. He knocked his elbow against Rictor's bicep. "Vibratory blasts, at least that's what I've been told they're called. I can blow stuff up." He paused and added. "It's fine, I guess."
"Vibratory?" Rictor took a moment to translate that in his head, and his eyes widened in surprise when he realized the connotation. "You are like me. Almost. Because I make the ground shake."
Shatterstar's eyes brightened and he ducked his head slightly at the realization. "And your powers talk to you," he said. Maybe there was some application to his powers that weren't destructive- not that he disliked them for that, but it would be nice to be able to defend as well.
"Not with words. I'm not crazy," Rictor hurried to reassure Shatterstar, unaware of what he was implying about the other boy and his own condition. "Before I learned I am a mutant, I thought this was brujería. Magic. There are spirits and gods, and I prayed to them so they move the earth. That seems very silly now that I have met so many other mutants who have so many different abilities. They don't pray, they just do."
Shatterstar pursed his lips and balled his hands into fists. He didn't want to be angry at Rictor- he liked Rictor- but he had to defend his, and more importantly Benji's honor. He could feel his powers coming from his anger, collecting in his arms and burning. "I wouldn't think you were crazy," he said flatly, staring into the quarry. He tried to tamp his anger down but it was so much more upsetting when someone you liked said things that made you mad.
Rictor noticed the change in tone and he turned slowly to face the other boy. Had he said something wrong? "Pues, a lot of people think that talking to God when you're not at church is crazy. My parents believe that many of the things I believe are crazy because they are not what the Church teaches."
Shatterstar tried to tamp back his powers, but he could tell they were going to come. He managed to hold his arms out and widen his field. He spoke over the low humming, and the air shook slightly. "I've never been to church. If I wanted to talk to God I would have to do it elsewhere. That's not crazy." The rocks below exploded, and Shatterstar was sweating, but his arms were barely sunburned. Terry would be proud. "Sorry. I'm still learning control."
"¿Qué verga?" Falling several steps back, Rictor clutched at his thundering heart. "Warn me next time! I . . ." He couldn't help but notice the reddening on Shatterstar's normally pale white arms, and concern tempered his distress. "Do you change color when you use your powers?"
Shatterstar closed up and glared at Rictor- for bringing attention to the harm his powers brought to his body. "I'm fine," he insisted. And then shrugged a little. "Sorry, it just comes on suddenly sometimes." He didn't seem all that sorry.
"Yeah, no te preocupes." And Rictor didn't seem all that nonchalant. If Shatterstar hadn't been facing the quarry, then Rictor could have been busted into pebbles, too, just like the rocks. Worse, it troubled him about his own abilities. If he had lost control, too, then what would have happened to Shatterstar? A twisted ankle from sinking into the ground, a broken arm from tumbling down into the quarry, or could he have cracked his head open?
As these nightmare scenarios ran unchecked through his mind, he felt the earth respond. Not with the vigor it had back home under his grandparents' spell, but it did not take much to be dangerous. He backed up several meters, begging for the trembling to stop.
Shatterstar tensed at the trembling and backed up as well from the edge of the quarry, almost having been shook into it. Even though he had just explained that his control of his powers was iffy, he glared at Rictor. "Don't do that," he hissed. He was fine, but someone less quick might not have been.
He balled his fists- this was probably an accident, he reminded himself. "Can't you focus on where you do that?" He asked, unthinking.
"No! I don't . . ." Rictor recalled his first powers lessons with Kane not long ago. He could pull back, he had the power. He had to focus, to imagine the energy returning to him and out of the ground. He knelt and placed his hands firmly on the dirt. They say skin-to-skin contact is important for human bonding, so for Rictor, skin-to-earth was vital. Eventually, it stopped and the world was still. He remained in a quadruped position while he fought to catch his breath.
"Sorry. I'm sorry." He couldn't bring himself to meet Shatterstar's face.
"I-" Shatterstar said when faced with Rictor's apology. He didn't know how to feel, having pushed Rictor but the other boy had been able to do it, steadying the ground under his feet.
Rictor had every right to be angry with him. Shatterstar would be angry with him if he was in his place. He looked down at Rictor, realizing he had fucked up this interaction with him.
"I'm sorry," he said, backing up, before turning to walk away, breaking into a run after a little. He couldn't face him and make things worse for him.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The younger man was gone before Rictor realized it. Once he was back on his feet, he called out to Shatterstar, but he was already too far to hear (or, perhaps, was purposefully not responding). Rictor's poor impulse control had cost him one of his only friends. He swore and slowly, ashamedly made his way back to the mansion, too.
