maskormenacelogs | świat jest spokojny // will definitely contain spoilers for apocalypse

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świat jest spokojny // will definitely contain spoilers for apocalypse

WHO: Erik + YOU
WHERE: Various
WHEN: 6/2
WHAT: Catch-all after his canon update
WARNINGS: I'll put spoiler warnings for Apocalypse in the subject header but watch where you scroll!! And please let me know in your tag-in whether spoilers are ok or nah.

[ There is no prompt between 9-12 because he went to visit Wanda and Billy ]

1. Nonah, sometime at night while Charles is out// Closed to Charles Xavier
If anyone were to have come by this nondescript and anonymously modest house in Nonah tonight, they would have seen a wide array of construction in the backyard, creating the bones of an addition out back. His name's Magneto though, and not Drypainto, so he's elected to take a break on the inside of the original part of the house, in his favorite chair reading a book as he plays a waiting game. Casually, he picks up a knife to peel an apple and cut himself a wedge, taking a bite and turning the page.

2. De Chima or Nonah, 6 AM
Back to his regularly-scheduled life, he's out for a morning jog by the park. It's a beautiful June morning, sun barely awake, and there's a lot on Erik's mind. But, as he's experienced Porter hiccups before, he finds that it's better not to stress it and, ironically it makes him make time for himself. Following alongside him is Rochester, his pup with custom metal prosthetics on each leg, who still stumbles on his awkward gait, who missed Erik for a lot longer than the day he's been gone.

He stops at a water fountain to get a drink, and his puppy might excitedly wander towards you; after all, with four metal legs, Erik's never found a reason to need a leash.

3. De Chima, 8 AM
Funny enough, being an imPort means he doesn't really need to explain some of his absences from work. He shows up to the garage thankful that they all know his situation, that most of them clap him on the back or jokingly give him a hard time about the disappearance, and he's even thankful for the cup of sludge they call coffee. God, he kind of loves this garage. And, of course, he's got donuts for the lot of them. He's even offering some to the customers.

4. Anywhere, 1 PM
On his lunch break in the summers, he enjoys nothing more than sitting outside of a small restaurant in downtown, sandwich and salad and tall frothy beer, watching as the people go about their day. He feels altogether nostalgic, his first full day back, and despite himself finds it... relaxing almost, whenever he sees a familiar face. They haven't changed, not one bit. It's like walking through a time capsule. He might be lost in thought, or he might be giving you a small look of recognition, or he might be catching that cup that just got knocked off the table...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Charles was at work!

This should come as a surprise to no one, particular since he'd lost mental track of Erik the previous day. He was trying to not jump to conclusions but it was unsettling and as a coping mechanism, Charles had entrenched himself at work.

In fact, this was the first time he'd returned to Nonah since he'd left the previous day and it was late as he came rolling along. He had his head down, his shields up as a matter of course, which meant he didn't immediately realize that Erik's presence had returned so it was with a sense of bemusement that he realized there was activity at his house.

Why were there packets of shingles on his lawn?

Frowning, he began to wheel a little faster up his walk way and towards his front door, thinking to drop his shielding only as he reached for the knob and immediately ...

"Erik?" He was calling out the man's name before he'd even pushed the door all the way open.

He puts the book down with the knife, but carries the apple with him. Something might feel off, or strange, or just... different about him. His gait's a bit like the older one's, who's grown into his silver hair and billowing cape. Physically he's pretty unchanged since Charles last saw him, though his eyes have softened in intensity, his hands a little bit more worn with work.

Opening the door the rest of the way, he stands with one hand in his pocket and takes glances at his friend as if trying to search for something. Maybe a lilac sweater. "You ask like you can't confirm it for yourself without looking."

He takes a bite. "Hello old friend. I hope you don't mind the renovations; I thought this place looked a little outdated."

For the moment, it was these little differences that caught Charles up short. The mannerisms, the softness of tone, the look in pale eyes.

He's encountered a changed Erik before, though that change had been rather drastic if still very Erik. There was something a little different about this one, shades of the calm he'd felt in the older version of his friend but there was a tang of grief in the air.

Though he tried not to do so uninvited, especially here where Erik had never donned his helmet, Charles couldn't help lifting his fingers towards his temple and looking. Much as it had been ... err ... much as it would be, his face crumpled almost immediately and unshed tears brightened his blue eyes.

"Oh, my friend." He whispered, voice shuddering as Erik's grief washed over him. Charles knew he should draw back but there were memories that just called to him. A dark haired girl with her father's eyes, her father's intensity and a beautiful woman. Not just physically, though Magda was gorgeous, but more importantly her acceptance and her gentleness; shades of the same generous heart that had beat in the chest of Erik's mother.

Now also lost.

"Erik..."

"Don't, Charles..."

He thought he was all out of tears for the night, having visited both Wanda and Billy for the selfish purposes of holding them close and grieving a loss they've both already grieved or else had not known. Why this had been chosen for their family, again and again, through all the universes they exist, Erik will never know. He doesn't care to find out.

He thought he was all out of tears but it's past midnight now, and he hates to see Charles cry because it gets him going. They keep coming as he brushes them away, stinging at his eyes and blurring his vision. It really was such a cliche case, boy meets girl, girl doesn't care about boy's tainted past, girl heals boy's wounds, girl turns boy into a man, a better man than he had been. And then there was Nina, and when she was born and he held her in his arms so small and fragile, he knew he had changed for the better because he couldn't imagine anything less than the very best for her. He wouldn't let her witness violence, or hate, or fear. And she grew like her mother, like his mother: kind, sweet, pure.

It seems the survivors of their family are destined for war, for violence, for ostracization. He needed to see that Wanda and Billy had remained as untouched as he'd left them, and he had been content until this very moment when his grief suddenly feels immediate.

He puts those thoughts to rest - or tries - for now. He's trying to do the best he can by all of them, his family, who exist here. And Charles, bless his stupid nosy telepathic heart, is family. And so he places a hand to steady on his friend's shoulder, and gives it a tight squeeze. "Come, I want to show you the den."

The warning came too late, for both of them unfortunately. The only thing Charles could do was allow himself to be stopped within the memories of Magda and Nina. He didn't dig further, for the time being, as if it would be disrespectful to rush past such beautiful memories.

He felt whispers of more to come, caught the shadow of destruction out of the corner of his psychic eye, but he fought to remain focused on Erik and his family. His friend had been happy, truly happy and at peace in a way Charles had wished for, all the way back in nineteen sixty-two. A peace that had been shattered, even though Erik had still been trying to do the right thing.

It was hard for Charles to process, his own emotions stirring at the unfairness of it and when he looked up to his friend's face, his own was definitely moistened from the track of tears down his cheeks. Frowning, Charles reached up and quickly wiped at his face, brows furrowing as he struggled to untangle his mind from Erik's and focus on his friend's verbal question; the reality of the world around them.

"Wha-wha? What den?"

Den??

"Well," he says noncommitally, that mischievous tone back in his voice. "It's not quite a library nor an office, so it's a den." As if that answers all of Charles's questions about the room in particular. But Erik has never been one to answer the question he's asked, only answer truthfully the question he wants to answer. Probably why he went into politics.

He leads them to what used to be the deck, which Erik plans on reinstalling elsewhere at some point, complete with a ramp and a long walkway. But right now it's a charming hallway with windows still that lead to a cozy looking den. From entering, it might look a bit familiar, if sparse. There are high bookshelves, comfortable looking chairs, a chess board, a desk. Everything is in a dark, warm color, like mahogany and oxblood, and though the design is based off of Westchester, there's a distinct touch of rich purple and steel accent. In fact, there is a little steel arm on a rail that will one day fetch books that might be out of reach, and a rolling ladder for a similar purpose.

If Charles is wondering, there's another door that most definitely does not lead to the back garden. But first... "What do you think?"

At this point Charles was utterly bemused and no doubt showing it in his expression. He set his hands to the wheels of his chair and rolled along behind Erik, only just starting to recognize that his house was not quite the way he'd left it.

Coming up along where a wall should have stood, the telepath blinked as he found a hall way instead and along the hallway a right proper ... den.

"Erik..." he was repeating his friend's name, finding the words difficult and now he stopped the wheelchair and reached out to grab at Erik's wrist.

"Erik, stop. What is going on?"

Erik pauses, shifts his weight, wonders how he should let Charles know.

"Your house... it's just not big enough for two people to live in," he settles on, as he swings open the door to his new room. It's a big door, of course, big enough for a wheelchair to fit into, so even without moving, Charles could easily see that it's a bit sparse and bare and utilitarian. But it has nice big windows for light, and looks like a comfortable enough retreat, with clean lines, a quiet feel.

"And I'm already here all the time," he states matter-of-factly. But really, Charles has been trying to get him to stay put for years. And since he has no grand plans and he's stuck in one of these five predetermined cities... why not? He thought he could do this alone. He thought Charles could do this alone. It turns out, they both don't do well with complete solitude. And Erik, well, he could use a little stability. Just a tad. And if it's just him and Charles, he doesn't have to be so embarrassed in front of the children, particularly the ones who were braver and smarter than he had been.

It takes a moment for what Erik is implying to really sink in. Charles was used to them parting ways and though the other man was over at the small house more often than not, Charles hadn't let himself think in terms of Erik actually moving in; staying.

Looking at the comfortable, clean room and then back around at the other changes made to the space, he leaned back and rested an elbow on one of the arms of his chair. Part of him wondered if this was a response to grief. He hadn't looked further into the events in Erik's mind but the grief had been overwhelming. It would only be reasonable that Erik might feel the need for some, whisp of family to hold on you.

'We're brothers, you and I'

The words from so long ago echoed through his head and Charles felt his expression soften.

This may only be a temporary thing, until Erik decided his feet needed to move yet again. It may never be enough to settle Erik, the way Magda and Nina had been but Charles couldn't find it in his heart to deny the man.

Had he ever?

Smiling, he nodded and pushed his chair towards the bedroom, wanting to get a closer look, assuming it was complete.

"We'll have to go shopping for furniture, towels and bedding. And I hope you don't expect me to share in cooking duties."

It is complete, and whereas Charles's bedroom looks more traditional, Erik's is more contemporary, lots of whites to offset some of his hard, some of his dark. There's a sliding door to what will someday be the deck, and with the curtains drawn there's a full view of the yard. He thinks he might plant a tree there, a big oak that someone might tie a swing to someday.

"I would never expect you to lift a finger in the kitchen," he replies, offering a quirk of a smile as he remembers the last time they had an argument over preparing dinner, not a hundred feet from where they're standing. But mostly, even though he knew there was no chance Charles would say no, he is rather relieved his friend is letting him stay. After all, he too feels a sense of intense loneliness. If there are things in his life that have always been consistent they would be Raven and Charles.

"But as for the rest, we can do that tomorrow. Were you at Stark Industries again?"

It did get lonely. For a brief period the mansion had been alive with children and mutants and Charles had been happy but then that hope had been ripped away from him, close on the heels of the loss of Erik and Raven, and his legs. Though Hank had stayed with him, bless him, Charles had felt the house echo with loneliness.

Here, in this small abode, the echo wasn't so loud but it still pinched. Part of the reason why he spent so much time at StarkTech or working on Foundation work; anything to keep from going home to a silent house.

Perhaps this choice of Erik's was best for them both.

Rolling back, Charles nodded in response to the question.

"I was working on a few projects," he won't even try to pretend that he'd just 'lost track of time'. "I'd ... lost track of you, a day or so ago. It was, keeping me busy."

Not a direct admission but the sentiment was still there. He'd lost the comforting presence of Erik within his mind's reach and been struggling with the sinking sense of reality that he was now truly alone in this world.

That's... sort of sweet, actually, the way he mourns for his friend when he's been gone less than a day. But Charles has always been sentimental, and Erik's always been a bit... rude. "I'm not going anywhere," he replies, though he knows he can't exactly promise that (and shouldn't; it's easy to jinx his good luck.) But, he thinks, this Charles particularly needs the assurance that Erik won't just up and disappear and rip the rug from right under his wheels.

He needs time to heal, and he needs people to help him along with it. The fact that the one he chose to help him in that time of need was Tony Stark speaks uh, volumes. So.

"One last room for the full tour and I promise I'll let you get some sleep," he says, walking into the room for the ensuite bathroom. There's not much to look at of course, but thoughtfully it's built like the rest of the new additions, for either of them to be able to use. He might have built himself a separate apartment on the plot, but... that just isn't what he wanted.

Sentimentality, combined with that loneliness that this decision of Erik's, to move in, appeared designed to help combat. For them both.

While he appreciates Erik's attempt at an assurance, Charles can only give his friend a rueful look. In so much as they function here, they can each try to live up to that promise but if the Porter decides to send them away, there isn't much they can do to combat it.

Which was an entirely different subject all together.

Charles follows along, poking his nose into the new bathroom. It was all very impressive, not that Erik's power wasn't impressive but to have done this, in such a short period of time?

"You have been busy," Charles remarked, giving the bathroom one last look and then slowly backing the chair out of the doorway. "My friend I have never doubted your abilities, you know this. That said, this is incredible, even by your standards."

The unspoken 'how' hung in the air.

Right, he's thinking "remember how I get more powerful when I'm extremely angry and then also Apocalypse came and promised I could avenge my family and purge the world of the humans, who would wholesale slaughter my children for fear of things they can't control?" wouldn't go over so well as an explanation. So clearly, the answer is to sidestep.

"I know home improvement isn't your forte, but you can't have missed the big orange Hone Depot sign on Water Street." Whether or not it's open late or Erik waved past the security and left a bunch of cash at the register however, is not up for discussion. Life is too short to waste time; Erik has too many bottled up feelings to crash on the couch.

"I'll have my things brought over in the morning." With his hand firmly on Charles's shoulder, he gives him a look of pride as if he's been the one running construction. Most definitely, that look is for a far-off Charles Xavier, the one Erik remembers best. It's evolved from that awe in 1962, that disappointment in 1973, to one of deep respect. It's no less valid for this younger one though, Erik knowing how far he has to go but how well he's managed it.

They had gotten back to the main living area of the house, what had been the original living room, dinning room and kitchen and Charles wheeled forward so he could turn the chair around and look Erik in the face.

"You know what I mean, my friend." He said, perhaps a hint of professor like scolding there. "I've been gone from this house for a day, perhaps two not weeks. Construction like this ..."

He motioned back towards the hallway, still looking perplexed. It wasn't that he didn't believe Erik could be capable of such a thing, should he put his mind to it. But there was a certain, finesse that spoke to years of development. Not merely waking up one day and deciding to put up walls.

Looking back to Erik, Charles' brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side.

"You went home," he knows this from what he saw of Magda and Nina. "How long were you home, Erik?"

Okay Charles, obviously it's been over ten years since he didn't have a wife and child the last time they met, and clearly Nina was a little older. She was seven, when she passed. "Twenty one years," he replies, as he looks at Charles and hopes for some sort of understanding now that he's the younger one again.

It feels like lifetimes have passed since he was last here, which is really saying something, because shy Mystiqu-- Raven-- felt like yesterday. And Alex, and Darwin. Meeting Charles. Saying goodbye and good riddance to Shaw.

A blink, and it's 2016 again.

"You look good in 1983. A full head of hair," he adds, though not for long. He won't tell him about that part just yet.

While he'd known it had to have been some time indeed, hearing Erik put a number to it was still daunting. Charles tried to imagine what it had been like for his friend, to go back to all that was to come; J.F.K. and ten years of prison, Raven, the Sentinel threat, the changes they managed by the skin of their teeth.

And more, it would seem. A wife ... a child, a family.

Charles felt his eyes beginning to well up again and he quickly dashed away the threat of tears with a swipe of his hand.

"So, you've seen it all, for yourself now?" It was a round about way of asking what Erik thought of it all. Because it had been one thing for Charles to share the events, even telepathically, as they were still through his eyes.

Now, Erik will have lived them himself.

"Yes," he responds, quick to move away from thinking too long about Magda and Nina. Honestly, at some point in his life, he started to feel that he was just destined to be alone. Everyone he's cared for has gotten damaged whether by his hands or by someone else's in attempts to get to him. His mother, and Charles, and Raven, his friends, his Brotherhood, his girls.

Dialing it back, he's in 1973, he's rewinding to before he escaped for Poland, before he laid eyes on her, before--

--He'd made a lot of mistakes. That whole time was one of them. Rotting away in a prison cell, consumed with his own thoughts of greatness, of legacy, of doing something after being cooped up for so long and doing the exact opposite of help. At least with this much distance, he can realize he was unfair. "I'm sorry," he says, brows knit. And that's all he's going to say about that.

Perhaps Charles had the right to ask 'what for' because there was a small laundry list of things Erik could be sorry about. Setting aside the events in Cuba, just striking them down to mutual mistakes abound, there was Erik's attempt to kill Raven, Erik dropping a stadium on Charles, Erik nearly driving the entire planet to war with his megalomaniac need to make a statement.

Erik's refusal to consider peace as an option.

There was a bit of a list and perhaps, back when Charles first arrived in this world, he might have pushed it at Erik.

But now, after some time and exchanges with older Erik as well as living so close to his old friend for perhaps the longest they had ever been in one another's orbit, Charles didn't feel the need for spite. And it would have been spiteful to ask 'what for' so instead, he merely gave a nod and the subject was laid to rest between them.

"And now, you're ahead of me." He said in a soft tone. He wanted to ask about Magda and Nina but the brief touch to Erik's mind told him that the grief was still fresh and Erik would have to come to open those topics himself when he felt ready. So for now, Charles smiled and asked, instead.

"Still have my hair, you say?"

Edited 2016-06-04 13:32 (UTC)

It's everything. The stadium dropping, trying to kill Raven, trying to kill the President, acting like a twat... Not Trask, he's not sorry about that one. He is sorry Trask's punishment is the same as his was in 1963. Honestly, they should have put him in a regular prison; it's not like he has powers.

Well, of course he'd ask about the hair. "You had a full head of hair last week," he replies, knowing Charles is not going to let that one go and assume Erik just hasn't seen him for a few days. But. Well. He'll have had it for a good long time. Which begs the question, how did he lose it in the original timeline...?

"But I know you were concerned, when you asked me." Last month. And also forty years in the future. He does reach out, and give it a little bit of a tug, because he knows that his powers are permanent (though stifled here), and that Angel's wings wouldn't have just reverted, and so naturally Charles's hair is... gone for good. Maybe Erik should ask him to cut off a lock and keep it. Just in case.

But now is a good time to bring that up, probably. "Do you wonder how they're doing? The us in the future?"

Charles followed Erik's hand as his friend reached out and tugged at his hair, his expression a little dubious as he didn't miss the choice of words.

"Last week? What happened this week?"

He's just starting to settle into accepting the loss of his legs, now he's going to have to deal with the hair issue also? Charles was not, in his estimation, a vain man but it was still going to be an adjustment period.

As for the question, he looked up with a perplexed expression because shouldn't Erik know? But then Charles realized that his friend meant way in the future. Their truly older selves, and he gave a small smile.

"I do," he admitted, because a part of him missed older Erik. Their timelines were so convoluted at this point. "I hope that I've gotten over some of my personal hubris and worked to bridge the gap between us. You seemed ready on your end, I want to believe I was ready on mine as well."

Sidestep, sidestep, sidestep. "You are," he replies, "I think it just took me a little longer." As it usually happens, Charles waiting for Erik to come around, extending a hand for him to take and watching as he turns his back. Why that invitation is still open, Erik will never know. But whatever it is, he's thankful to still have in his life people who want the best for him despite all odds and most importantly trying to kill them.

On the bright side, he knows they've potentially got just about a half century left of life to them, and that's a long time to have. It might even be extended by their presence here, artificially, by the Porter. Charles is now his oldest friend who is still living, but it feels rather strange, because honestly the time they spent together was majorly twenty years ago for a few months. He had Raven a little longer than that, but even then, on the grand scale, not by much longer.zsnf

So by ten years ago they might as well have been strangers. That's what Erik thought, anyway. Sure, Charles came to spring him from jail, and forgave him, and all that. But how could he still have after? And how was he not just caught up in the nostalgia of seeing an old face, trying to connect that to a man from his youth who just didn't exist anymore? Twenty years later by any other rubric and for any other people in the world, they should just be fond memories.

He supposes it's different when you go with someone to the end of the world, multiple times over. "You started up the school again," he says. "And as far as I know it's never empty again." Not like it is for him now.

The answer was both straight forward and quite complex at the same time. Erik was family. Though Erik may have believed he'd buried his family in Poland, he had more family than he knew and Charles would never, not keep that door open.

It was that same faith that had seen him let Erik go, after the incident with the president and the stadium and the rest of it. The faith and the hope for them all.

Charles perked up a little, distracted away from the issues Erik appeared to be side-stepping, by the news of the school.

"Did it survive this time?" He asked, almost as if he were afraid to believe, even though he'd been emotionally and mental preparing to re-open it when he was brought here to this world.

"Well," he starts, preparing Charles for some bad news. "We're rebuilding it. It... got destroyed." Character building levels of destroyed.

"There's a student named Jean Grey. Telekinetic. She and I are putting it back up," he adds quickly, hoping that he ignores the part where they destroyed his entire family's estate for the one where Erik is getting along with his kiddos and they're putting everything back in its place. They're doing a pretty good job of it.

"But... it's what you're meant to do. Guide the children. You love it. And they love you immensely." Erik found a family in Poland, and Charles found his right in Westchester. He'd found love too, it was just... spread out among the very many students who come and go and some who stay for years and years and years.

That earned Erik a blink, before he exclaimed in an incredulous tone.

"Destroyed?!" Seriously, he's trying to even imagine it. "Why did my house get destroyed? How do you mean ... you're what?"

Rebuilding it. Erik had said he's rebuilding it so it must be more than a little fire damage but still.

And who the hell is Jean?

The news about having children back at the school is quite compelling but not quite enough to shake him off the point of; the mansion was destroyed.

1 - Do I have to comment about spoilers?

spoilers spoilers, erik's gonna spoil charles for his own life

Erik Lehnsherr the original spoiler ...

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