[So he's making plans to bust his shit out of Central which is great for two reasons - one, he's out of Central and two... he can tell everyone he's still in Central if he doesn't want to meet up with them. Win win, right? Only he's grabbing together his meager spread of shit and tossing it into a duffel bag before looking up quickly like a ghost just darted across his peripherals.]
I thought you left.
[Almost sounds a bit guilty - he really thought she'd be out of his hair by now. It still feels stacked in the favor of him owing her, which made it near impossible to tell her to get lost so. Here they are, with him stuffing a dress shirt into a bag while looking at her like she just caught him breaking into someone's safety deposit box. Fuck.]
[ she has a feeling he means "i thought you left my personal space" instead of the city proper because she did; it was sad watching him sleep on the couch even though it was sweet he offered. willa may be ancient but she is still in the life of a fit 24 year old, she could sleep on the floor and be better off than logan's back after sleeping on the couch.
she came back to steal a terrycloth bathrobe for claudia and she knew his was unused. ]
Leaving, hm? [ she leans against the wall, robe folded into a pillow shape in her arms. ] I'm surprised you lasted this long before attempting a prison break.
[Away. Somewhere else - anywhere else. He knows she's got something in her arms but doesn't care aside from a passing glance, looking up to her face as she calls him out. He's already telling himself to just let it go, brush her off and not think about anything other than that out. It's like the Sunseeker all over again. One goal, one purpose...]
And yeah, I'm getting lost. You're probably busy here, right?
[She looks dead inside. He knows the look. Knows the feeling. The whole husk of who you were a little while ago, walking around not knowing your purpose. Missing something - someone, something you can't have. Or that you lost, maybe, by some unfortunate turn of events. It's not his problem though. She came her of her own volition, just like she threw herself into the middle of his fight with that other prick all on her own. She can get herself out of it too, or hunker down and stay put. Probably the better option.
He's finishing packing his bag, zipping it up. Not going to say a thing about his plans. Nada.]
For fuck's sake.
[Why! Why? Why.]
You-
[Before he can get another word out, there's a fucking portal appearing.]
❌ — hello starshine, the world says shut the fuck up
[ mechanima says don't try to enter central city and willa takes that personally. there hasn't been a plague or natural disaster that she has avoided since her powers manifested when she was just a teenager and a hostile take over of an entire city isn't about to stop her. neither are the boys since she doesn't tell them until after she has breached the city limits.
unfortunately, willa's healing is touch based and also unfortunately, so are the worms. still, despite central city's ever-increasing stepford-esque vibes, there are still people who need to be helped and willa is a natural helper. she really liked mr. rogers when he was on the air.
so when she sees two men fighting, naturally she wants to intervene. odds are on them both being completely themselves considering the violence, but one of them is clearly much stronger than the other and willa is just so annoyed. she strides over, mouth set in a petulant moue. ]
For fuck's sake, lay off. You are acting like children.
[ her cup of water splashes across the smaller man, injuries healing the instant her fingers curl around his wrist and she glowers at the larger man. willa is taller than average but he still looms over her. ]
[Old age didn't make Logan any less quick to fire up, it just made him tired afterward which for some people was a blessing in that it kept him from making his usual rash decisions. Thing is, it only works so much - when he's in a pissy mood and ready to yell at the fucking clouds, nothing's going to keep him from oozing gruff idiocy. Except little petite girls stepping in before he can throw a solid second punch laden with adamantium backing.
He may not have the best reflexes anymore but he has some, and his fist pulls back before dropping down to his side temporarily. His annoyance - whatever it was caused by, is still mostly on the other guy but is now diverting a little bit to her. Only you can't hit the random chick that pops up like this.]
You stop it. Get out of the way, you're not in this.
[ willa's expression melts into placid curiosity, eyebrows lifted, slightest quirk to her mouth. chivalry isn't dead, is it? he won't hit a girl, that's sweet. patronizing, sure, but sweet. ]
Has that tone ever worked on a woman?
[ the man formerly known as a punching bag starts to speak ("are you fucking—") but willa twists her grip on his wrist and the profanity turns into a garbled groan before she releases him. ] Please do go away before I change my mind.
[He's - huffing and still a little too wound up to relax, but she's adamant to be in the middle and he's taking a needed step back. His knuckles ache because he did, perhaps, pop two inches of claws out of instinct before retracting them at the first sign of her interruption. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand.]
[ taking his cue, the bloody but no longer wounded man takes off away from the angry sideburns and the tiny, rude healer. which is for the best because willa's patience only goes so far and apparently it is poor manners that really get her goat.
note to self: ask emmet for a goat. ]
Says the man that is bleeding.
[ also with poor manners but infinitely more intriguing.
she holds out her small hand, as thin and delicate as the rest of her, looking very much like a stiff wind would knock down her thin frame. logan is right to point out that she could have gotten hurt, especially since she can't heal herself.
she wiggles her fingers. come on, guy, take her hand. ]
[He is not giving her his hand. He looks at it, feels the pull to, but - there's something about her that strikes a chord in him. A femininity, a care - it's like she's there looking at him, reaching out with the same desire to look him over but in a lab coat and her red hair tied up. He doesn't pull away though, either, because Logan's got a stupid crux in the form of women being much harder to tell to fuck off and go away - he's done it but it's never worked out the way he wanted. They often die.
He has his hands by his sides, fingers flexing. He feels the ache in his muscles already, but rolls his shoulders and gives a shrug.]
You're really not. You might be eventually, sure, but you're not now.
[ her hand doesn't fall, patiently waiting.
willa has always been reckless, even before her life was tied to a bastard and a book; there is a certain recklessness intrinsic in the knights, anyone who does anything remotely heroic (not that willa considers them heroes, they are doing the bare minimum of basic human decency in not letting lark burn the world to the ground) has to possess some disregard for the consequences of their actions.
willa's healing gives her a purpose though and it is one she has never shied away from. ]
[But what if he likes being a wounded animal, running away to lick his wounds and hiss at the world? Why do you have to harsh that vibe? He sighs, staring at her - her hand much more specifically. While he's still adamant against taking it, his posture changes and there's a reluctance that radiates from his bones. Very I'm here but I'm not happy about it, which is a step up from wanting to bolt. Or kill someone. He heaves a sigh, and is already aware she's - like many others - got to have something special about her.
There wasn't a word for it when I was a child. We called it magic but... I have seen some of our powers mutate over the years so I suppose mutant works yes.
[ she looks like she was a child yesterday, but despite how young her outward appearance is, there is something old and, not weary, but maybe resigned in how she speaks.
it's only them now. perhaps the universe realized powers were too much of a burden and since they keep living and dying, it is their burden to keep trapped in their cycle with them. ]
I can heal and I would very much appreciate if you would just let me.
[Some might assume he's asking in a quid pro quo kind of way, where he'll owe her a favor or something similar. But people more keyed in to the way Logan works would notice his eyes flick over her, less suspicious and more wary. He's seen a lot of mutants come and go and he knows from experience that not all of their powers are without a catch. Absorbing pain, transferring it - he's not going to accept help if it hurts her.]
[ here is the thing: willa doesn't consider hurting herself in the process a catch because she knows the exact way to not hurt herself, she just often lately has neglected to take those steps. ]
There is no catch. Well, I can't heal myself, but that isn't a catch. It is just how it works. [ she smiles serenely. ] Which is why I haven't punched you in the dick and healed you by force.
[Squinting as if that's going to help him figure out if she's lying or not - but he scoffs at her for having a little bite to her words. He's still not giving in, not easily, but he will murmur a nearly mumbled potential agreement, pending:]
Not here.
[Not out in the open, where he knocks heads with other idiots.]
Alright, you're buying. Consider though, no one would even know. There's no sparkles or shimmers, the blood will still be there if you want to look tough, and if you're not in pain when you start drinking you'll definitely feel it more because it won't be compensating for pain.
[ a beat as she sets off toward the hotel. maybe they have her old room free still. ] But sure, suffer longer if you'd like.
Keep talking and I'm putting you in a taxi to somewhere else.
[Idle threats, but he's going to just. Keep on walking - limp there, but barely there, possibly purposely suppressed so she gets off his ass a little. Half his brain is screaming at him to ditch her but the last time he shook a chick off they kinda died and left him with a kid. What keeps him sane now is whiskey and a bit of tinnitus that helps tune her out.]
[ there is a roundness to her vowels that speaks to maybe a different language under her tongue but otherwise she has no accent to speak of; english's globalization has even reached their reincarnations and she's been born in english speaking countries for the last few cycles. her own name keeps the remnants of their past lives. ]
What should I call you? [ she hasn't been calling him particularly polite in her own mind. ]
[He's still - not falling back into what it is to be Logan, not yet. Not that he won't reply to it if called, but he still doesn't feel like the same person. Not yet. It's a mantle he'll have to pick back up sooner than later but you know what, random chicks don't need to know about it anyway. Hotel reached, there's now an awkward moment of silence in an elevator following his answer.]
Willa. That French or- something?
[He doesn't really care. Isn't really asking. Just - needs to say something.]
The modern republic of France didn't exist when I was born. [ a beat. ] I was named after my father.
[ which is a totally normal thing to say to a stranger in an elevator but he is being so surly and willa is looking for something to make a crack in his façade; maybe it will be how elderly she is. ]
[He says that to everyone but look at her - she's five pounds of girl, soaking wet. If she's as ancient as he is, though? Fuck, that'd probably explain a lot. He isn't about to play a game of compare the cards but he'll keep that in mind. Old soul, or whatever the hell.]
[Still too fucking young to be taking to his hotel room, he thinks to himself, when fumbling with a key card and entering it. He should just shut her out out there - let her wander away. Instead he just goes to the bedside table, tossing some shit from his pockets down before looking back at her.]
[ she's still itching to heal him, fingers drumming against her legs, but she takes the offer and grabs a water, pouring it into one of the hotel glasses and fishing some ice free from the nearly melted puddle in the ice bucket. it doesn't distract her, but cool water is delicious so that's nice. ]
Would you like a glass? [ offering him a drink in his own hotel room, give this girl an inch and she will take a mile. ]
[He's gonna go to the fridge in a second, awkwardly stepping around her in the "gruff guy doesn't know what to do when he can't be gruff" kind of way before he's leaning down to get a can of beer out of the fridge. Not the best he's got, but it's cold and he's gotta wash some pill taste out of his mouth. He cracks it and looks at her, knowing full well they still have to Do Something. These scenarios were a lot more fun when the build up was to some kind of screwing instead of...]
So, what do you... need, to do this. Let's get it over with.
[ willa snorts, rolling her eyes, and lifts her hand to brush the pad of her condensation damp thumb across his split lip. it heals immediately under her touch, any lingering sting evaporating. ]
I don't need anything.
[ as her hand falls, she curls it around his wrist, cool. her power isn't like sylvie's or theo's, no ice or fire for show, but she can make it showy to prove a point.
ribbons of water spool out under her palm, twisting and winding around his arm and across his bruised knuckles. everywhere the ribbons of water touch, relief follows; his knuckles heal, the water sweeping away the blood despite that it doesn't feel wet, even the tightness in the muscles across his shoulders melts away as knots of tension release under the phantom, soothing sweep of her power. she looks frail, bird bones and all, but her power is strong and potent, like a hit of morphine from sheer relief alone.
a crease sprouts between her eyebrows as her eyes close and her delicate fingers tighten around his wrist. she can feel... something wrong, something in his blood that shouldn't be there but she can't place it which is frustrating. she is powerful because she has witnessed so much, whatever is really, really wrong with him is unknown to her. sometimes of metal but nothing she has ever encountered before. it tastes like ozone on her tongue. her eyes flutter open as the ribbons of water return to her palm, seemingly evaporating. the water in her glass is also gone. ]
[Logan has gotten so used to the sting of pain that it's hard to notice it's gone at first, be it from his lip or his hands to follow. He notices in time, eyes downcast to watch the way her fingers dance over his, how her magic - her powers - manifest right before his eyes. He can start to feel it then, this pull like a current under the surface, releasing all this tension that's sat in his bones for years. It won't last, it can't, not with the way he's built but the brief reprieve is like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. It's fresh, clean and crisp. And it hurts more than the pain itself, because he knows it's only temporary.
It's over, and he's still exhaling, blinking in silence for a second. Maybe not quite stunned but something close, a shattered wall of grumpy, angry shell for the moment sitting around them in pieces. His voice still cracks but it's soft, tender, a little grateful too. The ache is still gone and his ears ring with the expectation of its soon return.]
[ willa smiles, feeling his steady pulse under her fingers before she releases him and draws her hand back to curl around her empty glass, stepping back to give him some space. the ache at the base of her skull is a reminder she didn't have enough water, but she isn't going to advertise that. no one is here to out her.
people look so different without pain sometimes she wonders if they realize how it changes the way they hold themselves — he looks taller without the protective hunch of his shoulder, his face looks softer without the grimace and squint of pain. ]
I'm glad. [ she really is, there is a purpose to her power and this is it. to bring people some solace of their pain, to heal. does nothing to quash her curiosity though. ] What is the metal? I couldn't recognize it.
[If they're being honest - which he is, for a moment, because he has a weird sense of clarity now that he's no longer feeling such a suffocating weight of pain on his body. It'll creep back in and drag him back into what he was a moment ago, but until then he's just, indeed, softer around the edges. Which is something he'll regret showing to her later, because she's never gonna let it go - he knows her type - but hey.]
Adamantium. Had it on my bones for longer than some people have been alive.
[Lifting a hand, like he's calming something premature before it happens:]
[ adamantium. no wonder she couldn't recognize it, she's never even heard of it. the pitfalls of multiple universes, she doesn't think she could even google it to find the right combo of chelation agents to pull the adamantium from his body, which is... annoying. she hates failing. her mouth slants into a frown, thoughtful rather than sad. ]
How was it put on your bones without your body fighting to expel it already?
[ there is no way he was born with metal bones and willa's power doesn't confer x-ray vision so she doesn't know about the claws.
she reacts to his death, and his impending death with equanimity — yolo has never been a part of her own vocabulary for reasons, but everyone dies at least once, the very unlucky get to make it a familiar thing. maybe one day she will live past 30 and die of old age but lark is still around and while he is, the youngest knight is probably going to die young again. ]
[It's not a good memory any time it comes to mind, remembering the pain of the adhesion of metal to his bones. The conflicting canonically and otherwise memories of what followed, or the lack there of for a while - he was a machine, a monster, and now he's just a man trying to drag his weight through the world a little bit longer while still burdened with the weight of his past. He lifts a hand, fingers curling inward to his palm to flex and slowly split open his knuckles to reveal several inches of glinting metal claws.
He doesn't over elaborate, because she's a smart one:]
[ willa doesn't say anything, no platitudes, only an unhappy hum. tragedy doesn't need comment. ]
You can heal, [ she deduces. his knuckles were bruised when she healed him but there weren't any open wounds and he's just shown her that the blades slice open his knuckles, bloodless. it must be what kept his body from fighting off the metal, what allowed him to survive the "upgrade"
her mouth pinches, even as she reaches out to carefully trace her first finger up the top of one of the blades, brushing her fingers against his knuckles, tracing the path across the back of his hand and down his arm where the claws must rest when they're not extended. ]
Does it hurt? [ curious, she's not asking as a healer, but because she thinks it would be cruel to ask him to extend them again so she can feel it if it brings him pain. ]
[He says with what could be a touch of wryness that fades away as he watches her fingers run over his hand, tips sliding along the grooves of his knuckles not unlike Jean's did the first time they met. It's a bittersweet memory, a conflicting feeling, and it makes him ever so much more aware of the contact they have between the two of them. He wants to pull away from it like a wounded animal, but braces himself not to.]
[ her eyebrows knit together, eyes unfocused like she's looking at something beyond them both. her hand flattens against his arm again, long fingers unable to fully circle the banded muscles of his forearm.
she's expecting him to pull away but he doesn't in the span of the slow breaths she takes and so her eyes flicker up, blinking as he swims back into focus. ]
If you put them away now, it won't hurt.
[ the least she can do, choking the blood flow to his nerves for a moment. ]
[It's always hurt - even before it took a moment to heal over, there was always pain. For it not to be there as the claws retract, it feels off. He feels numb in some way - foreign and weird, something he wants to pull away from. Yet he looks at her and he knows it's her doing, and for that he fights the feral urges in his chest and exhales softly. His fingers twitch and the wounds start to close, bloody divots of his knuckles knitting together slowly lest they get a quickened boost by her hand.]
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what the colour of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them | willa
I thought you left.
[Almost sounds a bit guilty - he really thought she'd be out of his hair by now. It still feels stacked in the favor of him owing her, which made it near impossible to tell her to get lost so. Here they are, with him stuffing a dress shirt into a bag while looking at her like she just caught him breaking into someone's safety deposit box. Fuck.]
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[ she has a feeling he means "i thought you left my personal space" instead of the city proper because she did; it was sad watching him sleep on the couch even though it was sweet he offered. willa may be ancient but she is still in the life of a fit 24 year old, she could sleep on the floor and be better off than logan's back after sleeping on the couch.
she came back to steal a terrycloth bathrobe for claudia and she knew his was unused. ]
Leaving, hm? [ she leans against the wall, robe folded into a pillow shape in her arms. ] I'm surprised you lasted this long before attempting a prison break.
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[Away. Somewhere else - anywhere else. He knows she's got something in her arms but doesn't care aside from a passing glance, looking up to her face as she calls him out. He's already telling himself to just let it go, brush her off and not think about anything other than that out. It's like the Sunseeker all over again. One goal, one purpose...]
And yeah, I'm getting lost. You're probably busy here, right?
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[ she doesn't work on alien backpackers because nothing is actually wrong with the people they are making stepford hosts.
she shrugs, seemingly unbothered that her power is useless and her purpose is purposeless, but also she seems pretty dead inside at the moment. ]
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He's finishing packing his bag, zipping it up. Not going to say a thing about his plans. Nada.]
For fuck's sake.
[Why! Why? Why.]
You-
[Before he can get another word out, there's a fucking portal appearing.]
❌ — hello starshine, the world says shut the fuck up
unfortunately, willa's healing is touch based and also unfortunately, so are the worms. still, despite central city's ever-increasing stepford-esque vibes, there are still people who need to be helped and willa is a natural helper. she really liked mr. rogers when he was on the air.
so when she sees two men fighting, naturally she wants to intervene. odds are on them both being completely themselves considering the violence, but one of them is clearly much stronger than the other and willa is just so annoyed. she strides over, mouth set in a petulant moue. ]
For fuck's sake, lay off. You are acting like children.
[ her cup of water splashes across the smaller man, injuries healing the instant her fingers curl around his wrist and she glowers at the larger man. willa is taller than average but he still looms over her. ]
Stop it.
no subject
He may not have the best reflexes anymore but he has some, and his fist pulls back before dropping down to his side temporarily. His annoyance - whatever it was caused by, is still mostly on the other guy but is now diverting a little bit to her. Only you can't hit the random chick that pops up like this.]
You stop it. Get out of the way, you're not in this.
no subject
Has that tone ever worked on a woman?
[ the man formerly known as a punching bag starts to speak ("are you fucking—") but willa twists her grip on his wrist and the profanity turns into a garbled groan before she releases him. ] Please do go away before I change my mind.
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You know you could've gotten hurt there, right.
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note to self: ask emmet for a goat. ]
Says the man that is bleeding.
[ also with poor manners but infinitely more intriguing.
she holds out her small hand, as thin and delicate as the rest of her, looking very much like a stiff wind would knock down her thin frame. logan is right to point out that she could have gotten hurt, especially since she can't heal herself.
she wiggles her fingers. come on, guy, take her hand. ]
You look like shit.
no subject
He has his hands by his sides, fingers flexing. He feels the ache in his muscles already, but rolls his shoulders and gives a shrug.]
I know. I'm fine.
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[ her hand doesn't fall, patiently waiting.
willa has always been reckless, even before her life was tied to a bastard and a book; there is a certain recklessness intrinsic in the knights, anyone who does anything remotely heroic (not that willa considers them heroes, they are doing the bare minimum of basic human decency in not letting lark burn the world to the ground) has to possess some disregard for the consequences of their actions.
willa's healing gives her a purpose though and it is one she has never shied away from. ]
There is nothing noble in suffering needlessly.
no subject
Just how special though?]
You a mutant or something else?
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[ she looks like she was a child yesterday, but despite how young her outward appearance is, there is something old and, not weary, but maybe resigned in how she speaks.
it's only them now. perhaps the universe realized powers were too much of a burden and since they keep living and dying, it is their burden to keep trapped in their cycle with them. ]
I can heal and I would very much appreciate if you would just let me.
no subject
[Some might assume he's asking in a quid pro quo kind of way, where he'll owe her a favor or something similar. But people more keyed in to the way Logan works would notice his eyes flick over her, less suspicious and more wary. He's seen a lot of mutants come and go and he knows from experience that not all of their powers are without a catch. Absorbing pain, transferring it - he's not going to accept help if it hurts her.]
no subject
There is no catch. Well, I can't heal myself, but that isn't a catch. It is just how it works. [ she smiles serenely. ] Which is why I haven't punched you in the dick and healed you by force.
[ he is, in fact, Too Large for her to attempt. ]
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Not here.
[Not out in the open, where he knocks heads with other idiots.]
Back at the hotel, after I have a drink.
no subject
Alright, you're buying. Consider though, no one would even know. There's no sparkles or shimmers, the blood will still be there if you want to look tough, and if you're not in pain when you start drinking you'll definitely feel it more because it won't be compensating for pain.
[ a beat as she sets off toward the hotel. maybe they have her old room free still. ] But sure, suffer longer if you'd like.
no subject
[Idle threats, but he's going to just. Keep on walking - limp there, but barely there, possibly purposely suppressed so she gets off his ass a little. Half his brain is screaming at him to ditch her but the last time he shook a chick off they kinda died and left him with a kid. What keeps him sane now is whiskey and a bit of tinnitus that helps tune her out.]
What's your name.
no subject
[ there is a roundness to her vowels that speaks to maybe a different language under her tongue but otherwise she has no accent to speak of; english's globalization has even reached their reincarnations and she's been born in english speaking countries for the last few cycles. her own name keeps the remnants of their past lives. ]
What should I call you? [ she hasn't been calling him particularly polite in her own mind. ]
no subject
[He's still - not falling back into what it is to be Logan, not yet. Not that he won't reply to it if called, but he still doesn't feel like the same person. Not yet. It's a mantle he'll have to pick back up sooner than later but you know what, random chicks don't need to know about it anyway. Hotel reached, there's now an awkward moment of silence in an elevator following his answer.]
Willa. That French or- something?
[He doesn't really care. Isn't really asking. Just - needs to say something.]
no subject
[ which is a totally normal thing to say to a stranger in an elevator but he is being so surly and willa is looking for something to make a crack in his façade; maybe it will be how elderly she is. ]
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[He says that to everyone but look at her - she's five pounds of girl, soaking wet. If she's as ancient as he is, though? Fuck, that'd probably explain a lot. He isn't about to play a game of compare the cards but he'll keep that in mind. Old soul, or whatever the hell.]
Hi to Will then.
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[ she flashes him a winning smile, bright and disarming. ]
You were only half off.
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There's water over there by the fridge.
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[ she's still itching to heal him, fingers drumming against her legs, but she takes the offer and grabs a water, pouring it into one of the hotel glasses and fishing some ice free from the nearly melted puddle in the ice bucket. it doesn't distract her, but cool water is delicious so that's nice. ]
Would you like a glass? [ offering him a drink in his own hotel room, give this girl an inch and she will take a mile. ]
no subject
[He's gonna go to the fridge in a second, awkwardly stepping around her in the "gruff guy doesn't know what to do when he can't be gruff" kind of way before he's leaning down to get a can of beer out of the fridge. Not the best he's got, but it's cold and he's gotta wash some pill taste out of his mouth. He cracks it and looks at her, knowing full well they still have to Do Something. These scenarios were a lot more fun when the build up was to some kind of screwing instead of...]
So, what do you... need, to do this. Let's get it over with.
no subject
I don't need anything.
[ as her hand falls, she curls it around his wrist, cool. her power isn't like sylvie's or theo's, no ice or fire for show, but she can make it showy to prove a point.
ribbons of water spool out under her palm, twisting and winding around his arm and across his bruised knuckles. everywhere the ribbons of water touch, relief follows; his knuckles heal, the water sweeping away the blood despite that it doesn't feel wet, even the tightness in the muscles across his shoulders melts away as knots of tension release under the phantom, soothing sweep of her power. she looks frail, bird bones and all, but her power is strong and potent, like a hit of morphine from sheer relief alone.
a crease sprouts between her eyebrows as her eyes close and her delicate fingers tighten around his wrist. she can feel... something wrong, something in his blood that shouldn't be there but she can't place it which is frustrating. she is powerful because she has witnessed so much, whatever is really, really wrong with him is unknown to her. sometimes of metal but nothing she has ever encountered before. it tastes like ozone on her tongue. her eyes flutter open as the ribbons of water return to her palm, seemingly evaporating. the water in her glass is also gone. ]
You feel like lightning.
no subject
It's over, and he's still exhaling, blinking in silence for a second. Maybe not quite stunned but something close, a shattered wall of grumpy, angry shell for the moment sitting around them in pieces. His voice still cracks but it's soft, tender, a little grateful too. The ache is still gone and his ears ring with the expectation of its soon return.]
I feel like myself.
no subject
people look so different without pain sometimes she wonders if they realize how it changes the way they hold themselves — he looks taller without the protective hunch of his shoulder, his face looks softer without the grimace and squint of pain. ]
I'm glad. [ she really is, there is a purpose to her power and this is it. to bring people some solace of their pain, to heal. does nothing to quash her curiosity though. ] What is the metal? I couldn't recognize it.
[ adamantium doesn't exist! ]
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[If they're being honest - which he is, for a moment, because he has a weird sense of clarity now that he's no longer feeling such a suffocating weight of pain on his body. It'll creep back in and drag him back into what he was a moment ago, but until then he's just, indeed, softer around the edges. Which is something he'll regret showing to her later, because she's never gonna let it go - he knows her type - but hey.]
Adamantium. Had it on my bones for longer than some people have been alive.
[Lifting a hand, like he's calming something premature before it happens:]
I know it's killing me. It already did.
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How was it put on your bones without your body fighting to expel it already?
[ there is no way he was born with metal bones and willa's power doesn't confer x-ray vision so she doesn't know about the claws.
she reacts to his death, and his impending death with equanimity — yolo has never been a part of her own vocabulary for reasons, but everyone dies at least once, the very unlucky get to make it a familiar thing. maybe one day she will live past 30 and die of old age but lark is still around and while he is, the youngest knight is probably going to die young again. ]
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He doesn't over elaborate, because she's a smart one:]
I was considered an asset worth upgrading.
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You can heal, [ she deduces. his knuckles were bruised when she healed him but there weren't any open wounds and he's just shown her that the blades slice open his knuckles, bloodless. it must be what kept his body from fighting off the metal, what allowed him to survive the "upgrade"
her mouth pinches, even as she reaches out to carefully trace her first finger up the top of one of the blades, brushing her fingers against his knuckles, tracing the path across the back of his hand and down his arm where the claws must rest when they're not extended. ]
Does it hurt? [ curious, she's not asking as a healer, but because she thinks it would be cruel to ask him to extend them again so she can feel it if it brings him pain. ]
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[He says with what could be a touch of wryness that fades away as he watches her fingers run over his hand, tips sliding along the grooves of his knuckles not unlike Jean's did the first time they met. It's a bittersweet memory, a conflicting feeling, and it makes him ever so much more aware of the contact they have between the two of them. He wants to pull away from it like a wounded animal, but braces himself not to.]
Nothing new.
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she's expecting him to pull away but he doesn't in the span of the slow breaths she takes and so her eyes flicker up, blinking as he swims back into focus. ]
If you put them away now, it won't hurt.
[ the least she can do, choking the blood flow to his nerves for a moment. ]
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Well, I should get going. Let me know when it starts to hurt again and we can do this again sometime.
[ makes it sound like a date but willa doesn't take it back. sylvie knows she is a flirt. she sets her empty glass on the counter. ]
Enjoy!