markedformore | (no subject)

(no subject)

Though Erik is still wary about this, after weeks of settling into a freer version of a life he's somewhat lived before, he thinks that he ought to reach out to Charles again. He's tried to give him space, but there's really no reasoning with him. He seems petty and childish, stubborn and wrong and it only infuriates Erik to be around him, but he has to remember that they're from different times.

Besides which, even with their differences, Erik still counts Charles' friendship as the most important one. Like Raven, he understands what it means to be a mutant, but they are in pursuit of a common goal -- or so he thinks, he can't be sure and that has been weighing on him recently, along with getting used to this modern city.

More than that, there is his powers to think of. With them returned, he cherishes and holds them close, practices them as often as he can, and never takes them for granted. Even now, after summoning Charles by phone to this middle neutral ground at a coffeeshop, he practices with the small filaments of metal all around him, none receiving as much attention as the metal base in the chess pieces before him.

He sips at his coffee and absently folds his napkin as he waits, not using his hands to help with his powers -- not needing to as his concentration grows more focused with every passing day.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It was with some measure of self-consciousness that Charles entered the coffee shop. He'd had weeks to become reacquainted with the loss of his legs, to adjust to the use of his chair, but he'd spent the better part of a year hiding behind Hank's serum. It was a rather jarring change, the return of the voices and the return of his old injury, which he'd spent a great deal of time denying.

"Erik," he greeted, eyeing the chess board with a measure of skepticism.

"Charles," Erik greets without standing, gesturing to the absent space opposite him, where he's made sure not to place a chair for when Charles would arrive. Perhaps it was a small gesture, but it was the best that he could manage. "I've ordered a drink already," he confesses. "Do you want tea?"

"Tea would be fine," he nodded, one corner twitching into a very faint approximation of a smile. "Though I would've preferred something a bit stronger."

They weren't in the right place for that, however.

Seating himself at the conspicuously empty place at the table, Charles ran a fingertip lightly along one edge of the board.

"Were you hoping for a game?"

"Reminiscing, I confess," Erik says, his gaze steady upon the pawns and the kings of the board, thinking back to the last game he had played with Charles. Strange that it seems so short ago in his memory, those games played in that isolated mansion in the jungle, but the dissonance between that and this Charles still plays on his mind. He affords a nod and rises to his feet to order Charles a tea, bringing with him the condiments a man might choose.

"Here," he says curtly. "I don't know how you take it. Do a man's tastes in tea change in a decade?" he wonders. "I don't know."

"A lot tends to change in a decade," he said, equally terse as he dropped a bit of sugar in his cup.

Though, they both knew that many of the changes Charles had experienced happened quite suddenly. That day on the beach would alter the course of all of their lives, forever.

"I wouldn't know," is Erik's calm reply when he returns with the tea, having allowed his reply to simmer and stew. His gaze is flinty when he regards Charles, unwilling to flinch. "I haven't lived them yet, as you have," he reminds him, setting the tea in front of Charles while placing milk, honey, and sugar alongside.

This is the problem, isn't it? They've been living in two separate worlds. "My god," Erik exhales with a huff. "Won't you do something about that hair of yours? It's obscene."

"No, you wouldn't," his gaze equally steely, though he claimed the tea with a quietly murmured thank you.

At Erik's outburst, Charles arched a brow, a very faint twitch of amusement curving his lips. "It's hair. Obscene's hardly the word I'd use."

"I suppose I'm used to looking at you far better put together," is Erik's cool reply, sipping at his coffee and appreciating the strength of it. He feels as if he is putting on airs at being relaxed because he is far, far from it. "This is a rather new look to become accustomed to."

"I'm not exactly unkempt," Charles said, stirring his own tea, simply to have something to do with his hands.

"Though, I'll certainly take your concern over my hygiene into consideration, in the future."

Erik raises his brow as if to point out that he doesn't care that deeply, but it's merely something that he'd noticed. It would be hard to miss, too, given the appearance of Charles before him. He wonders what had caused the slip, but then, it's hardly a mystery. "I've seen Raven a great deal," he notes, "but not so much of you."

Perhaps because he's avoiding him.

"How do you find the city?" he asks, feigning a casual air as though he can somehow find out information without sounding overly invested.

"I'm not particularly difficult to find," Charles said, giving Erik a knowing look. Since his arrival, this was the first time either of them had bothered to seek out the other.

"Livable. But troubling. And simply because we're all trapped within its confines," he said, sipping his tea. "There's an underlying tension among its residents. They're distrustful of one another."

Erik doesn't flinch, aware that he has not sought out Charles as often as he should have, but given the circumstances of years between them, he feels that he is due some time to properly reflect on how he wants to cope with them. "Can you read all their minds? Even those who are so flip and quick to dismiss us?" Erik has noticed, in his time, that they are not all alike. There are some who are quicker to ignore, to pretend there is nothing beyond these borders.

"More or less."

He considered simply leaving it at that. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely certain he trusted Charles enough to be fully honest with him. About this. About anything.

But after a moment, he drew a breath and admitted, "It's as if I'm seeing their minds through a shattered filter. From most of them, I'm only able to glean fragments."

Strange, then. Erik's abilities haven't been affected by the city insofar as he can tell, but perhaps there is something different when it comes to the people versus the structures. "Do any of them know the way out?" he asks, which is the pertinent question. He needs to get to Shaw, he needs to find him. If the damage is already done to Charles, then it is even more important.

"If there is one, most of them seem uninterested in acknowledging it," he sighed, "They don't even appear to consider the possibility of leaving. Any thoughts of the world outside seem to be situated well in the past."

It concerned him more than he let on, but the last thing he wanted was to make Erik even more distrustful of Darrow and its people than he already was.

"I don't believe they know any more than we do."

Erik finds that immensely displeasing. He wants to get out and find his way to Shaw and the prospect of being in a city with modernity around it bears much better chance than the island ever had. "And you? Are you happy to settle your heels in and live here?"

"Happy isn't the word I would use," Charles said, a faint curl of amusement tugging at his lips. Resigned was a more accurate descriptor. They were all trapped there, and for now, there was nothing to be done but make the best of it.

"And you? Are you enjoying your stay?"

"I'm pleased to have my abilities returned to me after so long without," he is happy to say, happy to admit to what he is grateful for, because Erik knows better than most what it's like to be deprived of the things you hold dear. "I dislike being caged in yet again. Especially when Shaw is still out there."

Drawing in a sharp breath, Charles looked at the other man-- at his old friend, his jaw tense with frustration. Once, it had been anger, cold and absolute, and it had nearly destroyed him, just the way he'd watched it destroy Erik.

How long had they been having this argument? How many times with Erik need to murder that man, before he was satisfied?

"Shall we start this old, worn-out record again?" he said, taking a sip of his tea. "I'm sure you're tired of it."

"He needs to be locked away," Erik says sharply, giving Charles a look of disbelief that wonders how he could ever condone allowing Shaw to walk the Earth, creating more little monsters like himself. Being on the island, going through the loops of his past had shown him that killing Shaw did nothing, but that was not the only vengeance that could be had. "Somewhere dank and dark, where he will never see the sun again and never hope to hurt anyone else's family."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only