plasma_atk:

Have you ever had one of those days where you just felt something was constructed in your stomach?  Where you felt like something was just, off?  That seemed to be how Alex felt everyday for the past few days.  He didn't understand the feeling, but he did understand that it wasn't a good sign.  Instead of mulling over the feeling, however, Alex tried to focus on other things; more enjoyable things.  Namely, he hoped that Stephen King would remedy the feeling with an invigorating read through Dreamcatcher.

Alex sat down somewhere solitary, away from the rest of the X-Men.  And away from Magneto and Paris.  The fact that they were on the property wasn't exactly something Alex was comfortable with--especially with Paris.  He couldn't help but feel that Scott was really the leader he professed to be.  Emma had a hand in all of his decisions, and Alex felt even less comfortable with her around.  He didn't agree with their relationship, either.  She was a bad influence from the start.  But what could he do, other than stick around and keep an eye on things?

Whatever.  It wasn't the time to keep his mind on those thoughts.  As soon as he made eye contact with the letters on the pages, he drifted into a more enjoyable state of mind.

preyforheaven:

Exodus was quite happy to finally be having a chance to do something. But he wasn't going anywhere yet. Not with the exertions his Lord was engaging in.

Fresh-baked bread -- yes, a 12th-century soldier can bake -- with butter. Plenty of ice water. And he takes it to go check on his master.


Later, he can go find the children.

media_tyrant:

Mojo had to admit, when he had sent Magog to track down Spiral regarding her delay, he hadn't expected such a find. Iniatially he believed she was Jean Grey back from the dead. Instead it was someone he found infinitely more interesting, Madelynne Pryor. The woman had taken many roles: wife, mother, clone, mistress, sorceress, villainess, an infinitely adabtable woman. Pity she couldn't be made into a performer, but Mojo was not stupid despite what people thought. He knew what had happened to Sinister when he had tried to manipulate this powerful woman and he didn't desire the same thing to happen to him. Still, it didn't mean she couldn't be useful to him. He would just have to be careful. As such, Mojo was not in the room where Madelynne had been resting, well awre if she woke up to his unappreciatively handsome visage, she may react badly. As such, he made sure her environs were comfortable. 

He glanced at her readings, she would soon wake up. Mojo pressed a button for the intercom in her room.

"Good morning, Ms Pryor. How are you feeling?"

genequeen:

Awareness.

It comes in fits and spurts.

She has no idea how long she has been here. Or how long it has been since her last moment of wakefulness. She remembers reaching out and touching Rachel. Or, did Rachel reach out and touch her? There was pain.... and she pulled back again.

When she first tried to open her eyes and all she got was pain. There was a small glimpse, through a thick liquid, of a container this body was in - thick metal and industrial. There was a small window, almost a port hole, but there was little else she could see, even when she could see out of the thick glass.

All of the memories of before are mixed and difficult to sort out, though they've slammed into her all at once. There are bits and peices and none of them seem to add up together. There are lives of happiness and lives of despair - insanity and rationality. None of these lives make sense together - as if they can't all be from the same person. At the same time, she /knows/ they are all her life.

She is beloved and reviled. She is powerful and weak. She is mother and sister, wife and seductress.

And as she goes through the memories one more time, she knows.

She remembers who she is and she knows how all of the peices go together, though she doesn't know why she keeps coming back.

Gathering the scintilia of her will, she exerts herself outward.

At first, all she can feel is the gel surrounding her moving. So very unimpressive.

Forcing outward again, she hears the screeching strain of metal, before a loud pop of pressure being forcibly released. Suddenly, the world is cold and painful. The liquid rushes away and she is gagging on air, expelling the liquid that had been in her lungs. Her limbs are weak and as she tries to get out, she collapses.

Sprawled on the ground, she stays there, her hands, elbows; knees and shins scraped and bleeding. As she crawls and staggers out of the fascility, seemingly abandoned, she sees other faces in similar containment pods. There is one that tickles the back of her thoughts but she doesn't stop to investigate. It takes her innumerable minutes to make her way out of the mostly abandoned facility. She reaches the edge, the liminal point, the entrance. Or the exit.

I am Madelyne.

And with that thought, she extends her thoughts out into the currents, a much more formidable force than the pale, malnourished naked weakness of her body would connote.

I am Madelyne!

Now, she just needs to find some way to get to civilization, to find clothing and shelter.

somecallmeray:

Rachel sleeps. She's relearned how to do that wherever she puts her head down.

It had been easy to get soft during the attempt at college thing after Cable brought her back. Then everything went crazy. She was disappointed in herself for being surprised by the crazy times. When everything went back to something resembling normalcy and she found herself minus any of her powers she just about did backflips. She looked into going back to college and had begun the process to re-enrollment.

Then everything began to change.

Again.

( Were not that I have bad dreams... )