markedformore | (no subject)

His fingers flex out towards chess pieces scattered across a board, but nothing moves. They're not steel or platinum, but the base is heavy enough that Erik would have sensed the metallic properties, were he still more than the mere being he is, now. He curls his fingers in towards his palm, that utter feeling of powerlessness overwhelms him and makes him feel weak.

The coin rests heavy in his pocket and it brandishes accusation against him.

He couldn't move it, then, not to save his mother's life. It's as though he's being punished now in being incapable of moving the smallest of objects. He's been turned into a monster and to what end? He's useless. He's worse than useless. He's been turned into this monster and there is no point to the pain he's suffered. It's as though his mother has died for nothing and he cannot avenge her, not with Shaw absent, not with the perpetrators of his pain so far away.

Instead, he sits at a chess board and is human.

It's frightening. Erik's not sure he ever might have anticipated that.

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Erik gives a thoughtful sound, perusing the board for his next move as he takes into account what she has to say. It's all terribly interesting, he won't lie, but he can't imagine what Charles would have done to let anyone down, other than be his typical overly naive self. "Then what games do you play?"

"Baseball," she said without hesitation or a trace of self-consciousness.

"Ah coach the... well, basically the mutant team," she said, a quick grin pulling slightly at the corners of her mouth.

"Mostly folks I know from home, mostly heroes, lotta mutants. We dominate the field most o'the time," she said, then instantly regretted her phrasing.

"Baseball?" It takes Erik a moment to decide whether she's being serious and then, scarily enough, he realizes that she is. Of all the things that could be done with people's time, their field of dominance is...baseball. Though, he supposes they were no better, training people to run laps in order to boost them against a villain like Shaw. "How very...American."

"Red blooded'n everythin'," she agreed, tucking her hands behind her head and leaning back against the wall of the booth.

"Sugar, you find a better way t'pass the time after three years, 'n you let me know."

"While I don't begrudge you the pasttime, I still wonder at why you've decided to entertain a hobby rather than a solution for escape. Or, at the very least, how to get abilities back," Erik says, discontent with the notion of simply 'waiting it out'.

"Because you can only bang your head against a brick wall for so long 'fore you realize y'ain't doin' anythin' but hurtin' yourself. Sorry M- Erik. I've been here, what, four years now? That's half as long as I had powers back home. I went to doctors, I talked to people used t'practice magic, Ah've looked into it, b'lieve you me. Not sayin' it's impossible, just sayin' I haven't had much luck," she sighed.

"You have to understand," he begins calmly, regarding the pieces on the board and not looking her in the eye. If she's to know what being powerless means to him, he refuses to give up any emotional ground. "It's not simply about my powers," he says sharply. "It's about who I become without them. It's about all the things I lost in gaining them. Without them, those losses become...pointless," he finishes, the word gutted and emotional.

Rogue was still for a long moment, realizing again how much she was playing with some very real fire. She didn't react immediately, then, feeling a bit stupid, reached across the table to touch her fingertips to the back of his wrist.

"I understand that," she said quietly.

"Can you?" he asks, aware that his tone is icy, but it's a matter that's terribly serious to him and he doesn't wish it diminished by well-wishing. "If you can, then I feel sorry that you're able to understand, but grateful at the same moment."

"I used to be able to fly," Rogue told him, "and I was nigh unbreakable, could punch a train off its tracks, I... I miss who I was." And the walls Xavier had built for her that she didn't have there.

"What I could do, the people I could help. 'n the things I did that needed redeemin', the wrong I can't undo but was tryin' to atone for... It's hard, but I can't believe it all doesn't count for anythin' just because I'm stuck here."

"And what if, from the very first moment that you could remember, it was you being wronged against. Would you then sit back and allow such a thing to continue?" he poses the question to her, regarding her face and not the pieces. "Or would you take action and seek out atonement on their behalf?"

"You talkin' 'bout revenge?" Rogue said.

"Yeah, sugar, I've done that, too. Didn't turn out so good."