Kane/Jean: The Turning Leaves
Sep. 27th, 2024 10:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Garrison and Jean go for a quiet walk around the mansion grounds.
"This is still too warm for the end of September. Leaves not turning until November should be disallowed, eh?" Kane said as they took a seat on the ground under a large old chestnut tree. They had taken to random hikes around the mansion grounds since getting back from New Orleans, following long disused trails and the odd animal run to poke around the places largely forgotten. He pulled the thermos from his bag and poured her a cup of coffee into the lid.
"Absolutely," Jean said, giving him a nod of thanks for the coffee before taking a long sip. "When I was a kid the summers were pleasant, not the surface of hell either. It's just wrong."
"I think this conversation means we're getting old." Kane joked, settling back comfortably against the tree. "I have to admit, the Xaviers chose a damn pretty place to settle down."
"Excuse me, I am not old," Jean said, nudging him with her shoulder and smirking. "As much as my back would occasionally like to disagree."
She glanced up at the treeline. "And yeah, it's one of the best places I've lived. Though backpacking through Eastern Europe for the Underground was a close second...except for the lack of a consistent bathroom and a shower."
"I admit, I'm a slave for my amenities. Especially a hot shower." He mused, just looking out over the forest. "So, backpacking through Europe? You must have some stories?"
Jean laughed, taking another drink of her coffee. "Plenty. We were holed up in this one building that hadn't been used since the 70s. No power. Middle of nowhere in the forest. We set up an outhouse a bit outside the building. One night, one of the teenagers comes dashing into the building saying she heard something making strange noises near where she was trying to go. At first we thought it might be someone out there but when I went out I couldn't sense anything. Turns out a raccoon had made its new home in the outhouse and it was thoroughly offended by all the new visitors."
"Raccoons do that. I missed out on the Euro trip my friends did. I think it is cool you got to." Kane said, settling in. "What's your biggest memory?"
"Of raccoons or the Underground?" Jean mused.
"I'm from Toronto. Never discount my level of interest in raccoons. However, I was speaking of the Underground."
Jean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mostly I remember...the hope. When we helped to move these people they were leaving aside all they knew. Some had a perfectly normal life until their powers manifested and they became something to hate. Finding somewhere they could...live again, without fear. Somewhere remotely normal. I could always see the hope in their eyes, driving them through the dark. It was what kept me going too."
"Huh. I mean, I was angling towards some complicated story about how you technically invaded Moldavia on a booze run without realizing it, but then you go back to being good and noble." He said with a laugh. "Is that paired to the doctor thing? Seeing all the pain being made up for by those who get better?"
Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. She finished off her cup of coffee.
"And technically it was Belarus."
"Shifty possibly Russian types. They likely deserved it." He collected the cup and screwed it back on the top of the thermos before stowing it away. "So, we can loop around and follow the moose trail Daisy uses to get between the national park and the mansion grounds back to the mansion. Or we can veer left and that trail leads to Harry's, with the added advantage of going past the spots the teenagers like to use to drink illegally and make out from the mansion. Or we can carve our own route through."
Jean interlaced her fingers with his. "Let's go our route. I've always been curious to explore this whole thing. Why not start now?" Out there it doubled down on the silence she heard, the only sounds being the wind whistling through the trees, making them creak, and the crunch of dead leaves under their feet.
Garrison and Jean go for a quiet walk around the mansion grounds.
"This is still too warm for the end of September. Leaves not turning until November should be disallowed, eh?" Kane said as they took a seat on the ground under a large old chestnut tree. They had taken to random hikes around the mansion grounds since getting back from New Orleans, following long disused trails and the odd animal run to poke around the places largely forgotten. He pulled the thermos from his bag and poured her a cup of coffee into the lid.
"Absolutely," Jean said, giving him a nod of thanks for the coffee before taking a long sip. "When I was a kid the summers were pleasant, not the surface of hell either. It's just wrong."
"I think this conversation means we're getting old." Kane joked, settling back comfortably against the tree. "I have to admit, the Xaviers chose a damn pretty place to settle down."
"Excuse me, I am not old," Jean said, nudging him with her shoulder and smirking. "As much as my back would occasionally like to disagree."
She glanced up at the treeline. "And yeah, it's one of the best places I've lived. Though backpacking through Eastern Europe for the Underground was a close second...except for the lack of a consistent bathroom and a shower."
"I admit, I'm a slave for my amenities. Especially a hot shower." He mused, just looking out over the forest. "So, backpacking through Europe? You must have some stories?"
Jean laughed, taking another drink of her coffee. "Plenty. We were holed up in this one building that hadn't been used since the 70s. No power. Middle of nowhere in the forest. We set up an outhouse a bit outside the building. One night, one of the teenagers comes dashing into the building saying she heard something making strange noises near where she was trying to go. At first we thought it might be someone out there but when I went out I couldn't sense anything. Turns out a raccoon had made its new home in the outhouse and it was thoroughly offended by all the new visitors."
"Raccoons do that. I missed out on the Euro trip my friends did. I think it is cool you got to." Kane said, settling in. "What's your biggest memory?"
"Of raccoons or the Underground?" Jean mused.
"I'm from Toronto. Never discount my level of interest in raccoons. However, I was speaking of the Underground."
Jean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Mostly I remember...the hope. When we helped to move these people they were leaving aside all they knew. Some had a perfectly normal life until their powers manifested and they became something to hate. Finding somewhere they could...live again, without fear. Somewhere remotely normal. I could always see the hope in their eyes, driving them through the dark. It was what kept me going too."
"Huh. I mean, I was angling towards some complicated story about how you technically invaded Moldavia on a booze run without realizing it, but then you go back to being good and noble." He said with a laugh. "Is that paired to the doctor thing? Seeing all the pain being made up for by those who get better?"
Jean tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about it," she admitted. She finished off her cup of coffee.
"And technically it was Belarus."
"Shifty possibly Russian types. They likely deserved it." He collected the cup and screwed it back on the top of the thermos before stowing it away. "So, we can loop around and follow the moose trail Daisy uses to get between the national park and the mansion grounds back to the mansion. Or we can veer left and that trail leads to Harry's, with the added advantage of going past the spots the teenagers like to use to drink illegally and make out from the mansion. Or we can carve our own route through."
Jean interlaced her fingers with his. "Let's go our route. I've always been curious to explore this whole thing. Why not start now?" Out there it doubled down on the silence she heard, the only sounds being the wind whistling through the trees, making them creak, and the crunch of dead leaves under their feet.
