ladydevil:

When she got back she peeled her uniform off in her room. Her body was bruised and she smelt like that place. So she sighed then took a long shower to wash the smell out of her hair and off her skin. She dried off and got dress in a pale floral dress she found hanging up then changed into something dark green that covered her up nicely while still leaving her feeling somewhat pretty. She got a dark vest and pulled that on then went in search of the boots and knee high socks that went with the outfit pretty well.

She gave up on getting dressed and flopped on her bed. Just mostly dressed and not in a great mood. She searches for her phone and starts to go through the list of names. She almost calls Jack needing to hear from family. She doesn't though. Misha is almost picked out instead but it isn't him either she turns to.

She calls Iason while dragging a tissue. She just needed to hear him right now.

The phone rings and she waits.

ng_marauders:

Winterkill keeps close to the buildings. She's had plenty of stealth training, and now its critical it gets pushed to its limits. Her scouting has turned up the information they needed. Spotting just the person she was looking for. She sneaks closer, looking about nervously.

"Blake." she calls to the guard in a loud, hoarse whisper. "Blake! Turn your com off, you idiot. Someone hacked our signal, we have visitors. Keep it down."

lytaworthington:

Having someone that can you teleport you to just about any given destination around comes in handy sometimes. Having decided to stay in New Orleans, Lyta had decided to gather up the remainder of her things from Xavier's.

Another good thing about having someone teleport right to your bedroom, it saved the mess of going through the Mansion, attempting to avoid people that would just ask why you took off so quickly only leaving a hastily written note behind.

Grabbing a suitcase, Lyta began to throw some of her clothes into it. She'd finish quickly and then call Irina to come and get her.

She was so busy making sure her clothes were neatly folded as she put them into her suitcase, she didn't even notice the door was open a teeny-tiny crack. Just open enough for someone to notice if they looked closely enough.

ng_purifiers:

The Reverend's voice was choked with genuine emotion as he spoke. It was a rare opportunity, an invitation to speak at a political rally hosted by Senator Sloane regarding the registration issue being brought before Congress. He had a massive, cheering crowd, composed not only of his church's own faithful, but a much wider audience, including a national one through the host of television cameras.

"My friends, I cannot tell you how honored I am to be here today. I understand there are questions about my position at a political event, hosted by the kind Senator Sloane and such generous donors as Ms. Maggie Donovan." He paused for more applause and cheers. "But I'm not here today as a religious figure. I'm not here on behalf of a movement... I'm here today as a grieving father and husband. I'm here as a concerned human being. For those of you out there who do not know me... my name is Philip Butler. And when I come before an audience who doesn't know me, with protestors and the rest, what everyone always wonders is why I hate mutants. And the answer is that I don't. I love all my brothers and sisters under God. When I was a younger man, I belonged to the mutant rights league. I marched for mutant rights in Dallas. I spoke on behalf of freedom and fairness. But there is a deeper concern. After those days, I lost my family - my wife of twenty-three years was killed by terrorists calling themselves the Mutant Liberation Front. My eldest son, a decorated veteran of overseas campaigns was killed defending Magneto at trial! And then my two little girls..." he holds up a photo, which the cameras zoom in on, "Were killed when they couldn't run fast enough, casualties caught in a crossfire between the so-called X-Men and Magneto's Acolyte movement in the pre-Genosha days. Even the mutants who call themselves heroes can't guarantee our safety. They still fight like vigilantes, and innocents still get caught in the crossfire. If they really wanted to help, let them sign with law enforcement, let them join the national guard! Let them serve like my son did before his tragic and senseless death."

"I am not asking for some new Holocaust. I don't want to see anyone suffering or dying. But these people possess dangerous abilities, and they need our help! And we need to know we're safe from the crossfire of whatever secret mutant wars are raging on all around us.  For the mutants out there, I'm not asking you to go to prison for being born... but if you're going to use these powers, especially in a way that puts lives at risk, you have to understand - you /are/ part of the problem, whether you want to be or not. Hiding breeds suspicion and fear. The only way to come together is cooperation. Beginning with registering in the same way anyone who wishes to own a gun should register that weapon. This is not some shadowy government agency trying to bring you in. This is a father who has had to attend the funerals of all three of his children, two of whom never had a chance to grow up at all, a family man, a devout man, and a scared man... please, give us a chance to defend ourselves, to know who our friends are and who our enemies are. Registration does not have to be some great evil. But it is the first step, a necessary first step, to reconciliation."

"When far worse programs were proposed, when hatred was at its height, I stepped forward to do what my conscience demanded, and stepped forward for the fair treatment of mutants in Dallas. Now I'm asking you to do the right thing, and support registration, so that maybe other husbands won't have only a picture of their wife to remember them by. Other proud fathers of soldiers won't see their children cut down by strange powers while trying to protect a rightful trial of a terrorist. And other fathers won't have nothing but a few pictures and kidnergarten projects to remember two beautiful little girls by"

"For everyone else - the time is coming for a vote in Congress. Call your congressman and demand they support registration when it comes. It is the right thing to do, for all of us."

quitethecharmer:

Vincent smiled as he stretched out in the chair adjacent to Andrea's. The idea for a getaway had been perfect.  Least of all for the reason that ever since he no longer had his divinity, New York had been absolutely frigid. He didn't know how humans just dealt with it.

Here though, on some insignificant but just barely developed tropical island, he and his girlfriend were quite happily isolated from any annoying aspects of real life that might drive home reminders of his condition. He'd had to worry about sunscreen as well for the first time in his life, but that was a small price to pay. Particularly since Andrea had been willing to help with the application.

A pair of cocktails and lounge chairs on a nearly deserted beach at sunset was rounding out the day nicely. He smiled as he looked over at Andrea. "Thank you for agreeing to my idea. I needed this. More than I realized initially."