[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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no subject
[ she flashes him a winning smile, bright and disarming. ]
You were only half off.
no subject
There's water over there by the fridge.
no subject
[ 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! ]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
He doesn't over elaborate, because she's a smart one:]
I was considered an asset worth upgrading.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[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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no subject
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!