to life!

Ororo Munroe. Storm. X-Men. When I was just a girl, I called myself goddess... and I lived in the sky. Sometimes I wonder w h y I ever left. I'm a mutant with the power to c o n t r o l the weather. Here's where I belong, every nerve connected with the w i n d, the clouds, the vapor.

[cloudwclker]

@panthergcd

As Ororo promised, she had prepared a traditional dinner for T’Challa. She had never learned to cook in Egypt or Africa, primarily relying on whatever source of food that she could scavenge (or that was cooked for her with tenderness from villagers who believed her a deity), but later, in America, she had learned to prepare the dishes she was familiar with. It was an effective cure for homesickness, and while it was different from Wakandan fair, there was no doubt in Ororo’s mind that T’Challa would love whatever she chose to make for him. He was undeniably biased, though under these circumstances, Ororo quite enjoyed the fact that T’Challa would love anything and everything she made for him… or at least pretend to.

With the dining room set up to the best of her ability, with candles lit and the aroma of her cooking filling the room, Ororo was satisfied with the presentation. It was nothing near as extravagant as what a king would inevitably grow accustomed to, but their relationship was much deeper than appearances and first impressions. “I thought that a dinner alone would be much more enjoyable than being surrounded with New York’s most recent drama,” Ororo said in lieu of greeting. She pulled T’Challa in for a tight embrace, no longer bothering to convince herself that their relationship was purely platonic. “And this way we have each other’s undivided attention,” she added with a smile.

[cloudwclker]

panthergcd:

Though he had tried to move on in the years since his relationship with Ororo, it seemed a lost cause. No one else had ever compared to her, and every new person he found himself with came along with a certain lacking that was truly no fault of their own. Since he’d met her, T’Challa’s heart had beat for Ororo alone. The belief of soulmates had never been one his family felt particularly strongly about – his father had found love again after his mother’s death, and what T’Chaka had with Ramonda was just as beautiful and loving as what he’d had with N’Yami – but when he looked at Ororo, he wondered if he might have been wrong. His soul yearned for hers, and she possessed his thoughts constantly. In the real world, their relationship had always been a difficult one. T’Challa’s responsibilities laid in Wakanda with his people, and Ororo’s laid in New York with hers. The universe seemed adamant in keeping them apart, from the day it had placed Klaue’s men in T’Challa’s sight-line and reminded him of his duty to the way it continuously reminded them both of where they belonged. But, for the moment, Wakanda was lost to him. He could not travel back to it, could not leave the city where Ororo had always belonged. It was like the universe was giving them a reprieve, allowing them time together that had been stolen for years. There was no telling how long it might last, but T’Challa intended on cherishing it while it did. If this was to be temporary, he intended to make it count.

“Victor von Doom is a lot of things,” T’Challa observed, “but I do not believe stupid is among them.” He didn’t like Doom, wasn’t sure he trusted the man at all, but no one could call him anything less than a genius. His every move seemed calculated, as if he was already several steps ahead at any given time. It was what made him dangerous. “In that case,” he smiled, turning to face her fully, “I think I would like a date with you tomorrow. We could go to the park, perhaps, or have dinner at a restaurant.” They did so many things together already that he felt any dates they went on may feel normal, as if they were still trying to sell themselves the illusion that they were only friends. Before he could elaborate further, Doom took to the stage and chaos broke loose. “I suppose we should have seen this coming,” T’Challa commented when the President exited the stage.

The more time Ororo spent with T’Challa, the less impossible their relationship seemed. They were far removed from reality, but she was familiar with Wakandan customs, and if she was accepted by his people — as she had been repeatedly in the past — perhaps they could work something out. It was a hope that Ororo kept very much private, largely due to the fact that few of her friends were aware of her complicated history with the King of Wakanda. On a more personal note, it was also a hope that she kept private because she had never felt so strongly about another man or woman in her life. What she had created with T’Challa was genuine and wonderful, a relationship that she was honoured to be apart of, heartbreak regardless. Few experienced such passion and while it was far from ideal, through enough effort and willpower, a future was possible. It was more than Ororo had believed possible years ago, and judging by how committed T’Challa seemed to be, Ororo was not alone, imagining that ideal. T’Challa had never hidden his feelings for her after all. If worse came to worse and all Ororo had the pleasure of experiencing was a brief fling with T’Challa, hidden away in New York City, isolated from the rest of the world, Ororo could make peace with that, too. A brief amount of time with the King of Wakanda was worth the loneliness that would surely follow, although she had yet to inform T’Challa of her new stance on their relationship. Years ago, Ororo's answer would be much, much different, a refusal to be anything so brief.

“No, stupid is not among them,” Ororo agreed. “If he were foolish, he wouldn’t be in the position he is now. No one with poor leadership could maintain power during a crisis of this magnitude,” she observed. It was unfortunate for New Yorkers, she truly believed that Doom’s motives were impure, but it was the reality. As the topic shifted to a date, Ororo couldn’t help but smile. The mood was still undeniably bleak, their president on their mind, but it was difficult to feel entirely unhappy with T’Challa nearby. “I’ll cook you dinner at your apartment,” Ororo replied. “You can let me in around five and then come back to the house at seven.” She had no other home besides Xavier’s, had never believed it necessary until she began dating T’Challa. Before she could elaborate on her plans, Doom took to the stage with horrific news, and Ororo frowned deeply. “The mutants may be safe for now,” she said quietly. “Several X-Men signed because I believed this would happen. What will it mean for you?”

[cloudwclker]

lifeincarncte:

There were more than a few in the mansion who had followed Ororo and Scott’s lead, Jean included, and signed on the dotted line when Doom asked them to step forward. A few of them, now, were celebrating the fact that they had dodged a metaphorical bullet, and Jean could understand that response. After all, mutants faced more than enough persecution for their abilities, were approached with fear and not much else simply for something they couldn’t control. Humans saw mutants refusing to list their abilities as a threat, potentially even more so than they did with other enhanced humans. Jean and Ororo were free from the consequences those who hadn’t signed were currently facing, but that didn’t mean either of them were going to sit back and relax in that fact - it wasn’t their way, never had been.

When Ororo asked Jean to meet her at a diner, one that they only went to when they preferred to have serious conversations like this one without telepaths intruding albeit accidentally, Jean hadn’t hesitated before agreeing. Now, she was sitting across from her friend, matching her smile despite the fact that worry gnawed at her. “As if I would ever say no to lunch with you, Ro,” Jean replied. Ororo’s gaze moved to the window, and Jean’s did the same thing. She sighed lightly, looking back to the menu in front of them. “I think it was inevitable,” Jean said. “The government has proven again and again that it will do what’s required to achieve its own ends. Doom is no exception.” Jean paused. “He kept the identities secret, though,” she mused. “Another man may have revealed everything, whether that benefited him or not.” Orse’s memory, Skrull or no, was fresh. “Do you think there is anything we can do to calm the storm?” 

In no way was Ororo pleased that her plan to help protect mutants by revealing her own abilities (within reason) had been successful. She had no desire to see any person, superhero or not, persecuted by the public. It was an atrocity that she had grown accustomed to throughout the years, as every obvious mutant did, and while it was a relief that Doom and the Daily Bugle weren’t damning mutants as excessively, Ororo took little comfort in it. Of course she was relieved that the children at Xavier’s were safe, but the cost was a steep one, and as a woman who prided herself on aiding people, she was brainstorming every possible way to calm the public without incurring their wrath. Jean, she suspected, would be feeling similarly. They were both naturally empathetic, moved by protecting people. If there was way, Ororo and Jean would surely discover it.

Jean’s posture made it obvious that she was equally as worried about the news and Ororo sighed quietly. She had adjusted to her friends’ constant worry, as X-Men, it was inevitable, but she hated seeing them so stressed. “I’m happy to hear that,” she replied honestly. It had never been a doubt in her mind, but after losing Jean, albeit temporarily, she always made a point of valuing alone time with her friend. “You’re right about that,” she admitted, though Ororo didn’t sound pleased to say so. “The government has never been trustworthy and expecting anything decent from them was a mistake.” Truthfully, Ororo had been assuming something horrible would happen: it was part of the reason she approached Scott with her plan. “I suppose that was noble of him,” she agreed. “I’m not sure we can calm it, but we can speak our peace. Some of the public may be willing to listen,” she suggested. “The X-Men do have some supporters. What do you think, Jean?”

[cloudwclker]

valhallabcund:

@cloudwclker

Asgardians had always loved the royal family and, foolishly, Valkyrie had found herself among them for a time. Odin had given her a new life, and she’d adored him for it until the moment his selfishness had taken it all away. These days, the royal family was far less endearing, and though Thor had proven himself a worthy ally and, perhaps, something of a friend, she had her doubts on whether or not he was as strong as he claimed.

So when she heard word of a goddess on Earth whose powers extended beyond those of just thunder, she’d been understandably intrigued. Upon meeting Ororo Munroe, she learned the woman was not, in fact, a goddess, but she was immensely powerful. Moreso, perhaps, than Thor himself. It was a theory Valkyrie very much wanted to test. “I think we should spar,” she announced, as way of greeting, approaching Ororo with a wicked grin. “I’d love to see the full extent of your powers, and it’s been some time since I got to properly exercise mine.” She couldn’t use the full extent of her strength in the ring without risking killing a Midgardian, and while she wouldn’t exactly mourn any death that came at her hand, she knew doing so would cause her quite the headache in terms of legality.

There was no denying that Ororo had gotten into the habit of using only a fraction of her power. She trained hard with and without her fellow X-Men, utilizing the Danger Room and its full capacity, but she had never once had to manipulate the entirety of nature to its fullest. Valkyrie was more than capable of handling her full potential, Ororo was sure, although she frankly wasn’t sure what exactly she could do whilst accessing the full range of her power. For a long time, she had been aware that she was an Omega level mutant, but had no reason to witness what that meant exactly. She was excellent in a fight and that was what counted.

It was no surprise that Valkyrie challenged Ororo to a fight, however. She was an Asgardian warrior from what little she understood, although she was unsure what most Asgardians were capable of. The gods, aside from Valkyrie, Thor and Loki, had little interest in what they did on Earth. That being said, surely Valkyrie could handle some electricity, and if it became too much, the woman was outspoken, capable of admitting it. Her powers also challenged their prince’s. “That doesn’t surprise me,” Ororo responded. “What would our sparring involve exactly?” Ororo asked, glancing around at their surroundings. Her lightning rarely went out of control, but she had no desire to damage the property around them. “If we move into the wasteland, I’m open to it,” she decided. “I trust that you’ll tell me if it becomes too much?”

[cloudwclker]

@lifeincarncte

Intuition had always been what Ororo relied upon most. She had never once trusted Doom nor his intentions, it came as no surprise that he had released the contents of his personal list, though he had withheld the extent of people’s powers and thankfully, no identities were attached. No person in power asked for such priceless information without ulterior motives but thankfully, several mutants had listed, allowing some of the heat to be thrown onto other heroes. It was a small thing to be grateful for, but Ororo was obviously pleased that her plan had gone accordingly. That being said, she hated the fact that people had had their trust broken, and she hated that numerous heroes were getting such merciless treatment.

A day after the party, Ororo had requested that Jean meet her at a small, discreet diner. She preferred to be at the mansion, but with the chaos on the streets, she felt it important to be close to the heroes facing repercussion for their refusal. Ororo refused to allow people to be harmed solely for exercising their liberties. “Thank you for coming to lunch,” she said, offering Jean a bright smile as her friend sat across from her. Absently, Ororo’s eyes drifted outside and she frowned at the sight of the angry signs and loud chants, demanding that heroes comply with Doom. “What do you make of our president leaking the list?” She asked quietly, turning her attention back to Jean, obviously troubled.

[cloudwclker]

panthergcd:

Years ago when he’d left her wordlessly, T’Challa had thought so adamantly that he was making the right decision in doing so. He had a duty to perform, both as a king and as a son, and he assumed allowing a relationship to get in the way of that would bring dishonor upon him. Looking back now, he wondered if leaving Ororo might have been the biggest mistake of his life. He had not lost her permanently – she had come back to Wakanda various times over the years, answered each time he called, fought beside him even now – but they would never be the same as they had been. His abandonment would continue to loom over them, casting a shadow over every moment they spent together, and he couldn’t change that. He could offer an explanation, but he wasn’t sure it was a good one. Ororo disliked violence, and at the end of the day, T’Challa’s mission for vengeance was exactly that.

If he could not offer her an explanation, he hoped she’d be content with his offers of affection instead. He made no secret of how he felt about her, told her how important she was as often as he could in hopes of repairing what he alone had broken. He didn’t expect her to return the sentiment, didn’t expect her to express her feelings aloud at all, but it meant the world to him that she was willing to listen. “I can do that,” he told her. “Once in a while is an easy task, though it is less than you deserve.” She deserved to hear daily just how incredible she was, but T’Challa understood the hesitation. As a king, he knew such things could sound insincere after a time. When her hand reached out to grasp his once more, T’Challa couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “I’m told I may need to begin worrying about gray in my hair,” he laughed, though he was clearly pleased at the compliment. Coming from someone as beautiful as Ororo, any compliment was a massive ego boost, and he could see in her eyes that she meant every word of it. “I hadn’t considered it,” he admitted, wondering what that said of him. He’d never thought of the demons as truly sentient, considered them more akin to robots than animals, but there was no evidence to suggest that they weren’t intelligent. Just because humans couldn’t understand their actions didn’t mean there was no sense to them. “Often times I fear they leave us with little choice. We can’t stand by and allow people to be hurt by them.” When left alone, the demons seemed harmless, but New Yorkers had never been good at leaving things alone. Added to that the fact that, as of late, the demons seemed to be targeting individuals deemed any sort of threat and T’Challa knew that leaving them be was not much of an option. “I hope to satisfy you through them,” he said, smiling as her lips brushed his cheek. Even now, he felt the electricity in her touch. He didn’t think the chemistry between them would ever truly fade. He nodded at her question. “With you, I am always comfortable.”

The opportunities to request an explanation from T’Challa regarding why he had abandoned her all those years ago had been abundant. She had stayed in Wakanda several times and T’Challa always made time for her whenever he visited New York. Technically, Ororo could ask him currently, standing at his side after battling the demons. She had had ample opportunity, Ororo was capable of acknowledging that, but she always made the conscious choice not to question T’Challa’s reasoning. It was not out of pride, Ororo was aware that she was worth much more than being wordlessly left, but out of respect. She knew T’Challa well enough to realize that he had purpose behind the action, though that did not entirely ease her anger. “I’m sure you can,” she replied. T’Challa was affectionate vocally and physically, something that never once changed during their time apart. Truthfully, Ororo liked it. She had always thoroughly enjoyed attention and T’Challa was not a man that offered insincere compliments. “I’m not confident that you have enough lung capacity to compliment me as often as you would like to,” she said wryly. Her comment was warranted, T’Challa was not a subtle man — it was one of the things she admired most about him. As a king, being so open with his emotions was difficult, a testament to his infinite strength. “Have you noticed any grey hair?” She asked, chuckling. She could imagine Shuri saying that easily, though she didn’t comment with that specifically. With T’Challa’s forced separation from Wakanda, she tried to avoid any specific comments that may hurt him. She cared about his wellbeing far too much for that. “You’re lucky you have me to think of those things for you,” she countered. In truth, Ororo considered the demons and whether they were sentient often. Considering there were resources on the planet, it was clear that the demons were lifelike, needing sustenance, and to Ororo, that was close enough to proof. “No, we can’t allow them to hurt people, but forcing their species to go extinct is hardly ideal. I would like to find an alternative.” Whether that was possible was unclear, unfortunately. The demons were a significant threat, one that couldn’t be allowed if they had any hopes of surviving their isolation. “I’ll make sure to let you know whether you do,” Ororo promised.

When they arrived at the apartment, Ororo landed smoothly on the balcony and ensured that T’Challa was safely on his feet before opening the door. “I’m excited for you to make the dinner you promised me,” she informed him with a smile. “I’ve always loved being rewarded by you.”

[cloudwclker]

panthergcd:

When it came to choosing his date for Doom’s party, T’Challa had expressed no hesitation. He’d made his feelings for Ororo more than clear for as long as he had known her, never left room for doubt when it came to the depths of his affection. He had faltered once, too young to understand what he felt, and it was a mistake he did not intend to repeat. He still had a responsibility towards his people, still needed to bring the men who had murdered his father to justice, but for tonight, none of it mattered. For tonight, he was far from Wakanda, and his father’s killers were nowhere in sight. Instead, he had a party to make an appearance at and a beautiful woman to impress. Such was the life of a king, he supposed. 

There was no small amount of eyes on them as they entered, though T’Challa was uncertain if it was due to his position or Ororo’s beauty. Wakanda was not as unknown as it had been prior to his opening of its borders, it remained on the fringe of things, and T’Challa was not nearly as well-known here as he would be in his home country. Ororo, however, had a beauty that transcended fame, something no one could ever hope deny. It made sense that the people they passed couldn’t keep their eyes off her; T’Challa had trouble doing it himself. “I was not,” he admitted. “It does seem a waste, though perhaps he is doing it as a show of confidence. Maybe he means to show that we have little to worry about when it comes to exhausting our resources here.” It was a hopeful opinion, though not one T’Challa was certain of. For all he knew, Doom was a fool wasting what little they had on an elaborate party simply to boost his own popularity. His face broke into a smile as Ororo continued, and he nodded his head. “It has been a long time coming, I think. If I’d known you would accept so readily, I might have thrown a party like this myself long ago. I’m honored you accepted my invitation.”

There was no man nor woman that Ororo had ever felt as strongly for as she did T’Challa. She had made every attempt to forget him and she assumed that he had done the same, but all efforts had ultimately been in vain. No one compared to T’Challa, and the more time Ororo spent with T’Challa, the more abundantly clear that became. It was not a choice that she regretted, although unfortunately, their tryst (assuming that was what this was becoming) would be brief. Once New York City was returned to Earth, T’Challa would resume his duties and Ororo would be committed to Xavier’s as she always was. Their romance was a star-crossed one, she supposed, unless one of them was willing to make a concession in the name of love. Ororo was aware that the burden would fall on her shoulders, T’Challa had a nation to provide for, and Ororo could not dream of asking him to surrender any attention from Wakanda.

As Ororo expected, T’Challa’s opinion of Doom’s party was an interesting and unique point of view. She hadn’t considered that it was a display of confidence, though now that T’Challa had mentioned the possibility, it was an interesting and efficient one. “It would be smart,” she acknowledged. Truthfully, Ororo wasn’t sure if she would call their president intelligent in any other context. Doom was far too mysterious to be considered a wise ruler, but if this was his attempt to comfort the public, it seemed to be working well. “You don’t need a party to have a date with me,” Ororo scoffed. “All you need to do is ask and I will happily accept, as you can see. Perhaps we should plan one for tomorrow night,” Ororo suggested with a smile. She had absolutely no doubt that T’Challa would agree to spending more time with her, he was an easy man to please where she was concerned.

[cloudwclker]

wreakhcvok:

“Thanks, I know you’re really busy.” Some of the tension he’s been holding eases as he takes the chair across from her, and he manages to smile warmly, authentically. He pours himself a cup of the offered tea from where it’s sitting on a nearby table, purely because he’s never had anything like it and he’s interested in Ororo too–technically they’re teammates, but Scott Ororo and Hank tend to run in a separate circle from the rest of the school, especially from Alex who is by all accounts the newest member, still settling into life both as a hero and a mutant. “This is amazing,” He says after he takes a sip, as an effort to buy himself some time as well. He doesn’t really know where to start, or even what questions he wants to ask–it’s not like he has the right to ask for Scott’s life story from anyone besides Scott himself, and he wants it from his brother’s mouth anyway. “My adopted dad liked Earl Grey, apparently it was something he and his son always drank together or something. I never had the taste for it, but this is–way better.” 

He takes another sip and lets his eyes fall on the liquid in the cup for a half second. “Scott–I want to help him, because I mean, anyone with eyes could see he’s kind of crap at taking care of himself, but I don’t really know how to go about it?” He lets out a sigh and drags a hand through his hair, worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t feel like I know him well enough, like you or Hank do.” He could have asked Jean, but he knows enough by now to know that might have done more harm than good, lead him into parts of Scott’s life his brother isn’t willing to discuss yet. It’s fine, he has parts of his own life he wants to build up to talking about. “And I don’t want it to seem like–I can’t handle this whole thing on my own–I just, wanted a second opinion, if that makes sense. From someone he trusts.” 

“Never too busy for you,” Ororo reassured Alex. As far she was concerned, it was the complete truth. Her students and team meant the world to her, they were like family, regardless of how new they were to the fold. Alex, being Scott’s brother, was important to Ororo on an even deeper level. Scott was one of the first people Ororo had grown close to, he respected her for her leadership, her intuition, and her connection to the world surrounding them. Alex had proven to be very little like him, but it only assured Ororo that he would be incredible unto his own. She had never had siblings, but she understood living in shadows. Her ancestors had been revered as goddesses, she had been forced to measure up to them, and Ororo intended to hold Alex to entirely different standards than his brother as a result. That did not change her natural affection, however. “Thank you,” she replied with a smile, pleased that Alex had enjoyed the tea. “I drank a lot of chai whilst living in India,” she explained. “Warm drinks help people cope with the heat. It seems counterintuitive, I know,” Ororo added. When he spoke about his own past, she smiled faintly and nodded. “Were you and your father close?”

When the topic shifted to what Alex wanted to discuss, Ororo was mildly surprised. She expected it to be about his powers, how he was fitting in, but concern for Scott was obviously something that they shared. “Scott’s definitely irresponsible when it comes to his own needs,” she agreed. Ororo allowed Alex to continue before she added her own opinion, it was important that Alex voice his feelings without being interrupted or derailed, especially when it was a personal matter. “You can handle it on your own, I don’t think otherwise. I do think that it shows how much you care that you asked me,” she said with a smile. “I’m not sure that Scott understands how important it is to look after himself. I think I would start small, bring him meals, water, offer to spend time with him that isn’t related to the X-Men. Once it becomes learned, his view may shift. What do you think, Alex?”

[cloudwclker]

speedyshcpherd:

Every mutant, no matter their background or moral alignment, knew of the X-Men. Like the Brotherhood, they were world renowned, though for vastly different reasons. Where the Brotherhood was violent and extreme, the X-Men were more laid back, more approachable. From what Tommy had heard, they were much more akin to a family. They did their best to repair the damage the Brotherhood did to mutantkind’s reputation, but it was like squirting a water gun at a forest fire. It all seemed so pointless to Tommy, like a lost cause that was never going to get them anywhere. Still, there was something to be said for their persistence. He could respect that, even if he didn’t entirely understand it.

Arriving late was partially a strategic thing. If whatever Storm wanted to meet him for was unimportant, she wouldn’t wait around for him to show up. If she were something less than what her reputation suggested, it would show in her anger. When he arrived, though, she was calm. Friendly, even. Tommy took note of it. “Sure. People say you’re a superhero.” He propped his legs up in the booth, waving at a nearby waitress. When she spoke, posing a question he certainly hadn’t expected, Tommy turned to face her with a snort. “What, you want me to be an X-Man? You know I check ‘yes’ on the ‘have you ever been charged with a felony’ portion of the application, right? Like, multiple yeses. A lot of them. I’ve still got my prison uniform somewhere. I look decent in orange, in case you’re wondering. Nobody can really pull it off, but I come close.”

Tommy obviously had an attitude, though she hadn’t expected anything different of him. Numerous young mutants were similarly defensive, and while Ororo’s experiences were vastly different, she had heard enough stories to understand why they had developed such facades. They were strategic, a clever one in many cases. “You think otherwise?” She countered, raising her eyebrows, amused rather than offended. Tommy’s phrasing was unique, few people disagreed that Storm was a superhero. Thankfully, she wasn’t at all bothered by his statement. “I didn’t invite you to be an X-Men. The school also teaches and helps to hone powers. Yours sound like they haven’t been fully explored, yes?” Ororo questioned. From what she understood, Speed had only begun to unlock the extent of his abilities and with her help, she was confident that Tommy could reach his full potential. “I wasn’t wondering,” she assured him. “I’m also unimpressed with criminals, in case you were wondering.”

[cloudwclker]

canucklchead:

It was rare for any enemy to really challenge Logan. When he fought, it was always bloody, always messy, but he rarely had moments where he believed he might lose. The demons were the same. There were a lot of them, and they seemed to be getting more difficult to fight as time went on, but they weren’t unmanageable. He could still handle them, even if he did get a little more beat up than he typically did. He’d heal all the same, he knew, and that was what mattered. It seemed to be more of an adjustment for Ororo, who wasn’t used to fighting things in the skies. If she was struggling, though, she didn’t show it. She looked just as confident now as she did after fights with enemies as easily bested as Toad. “Were you looking for it? Hard to see what you’re not looking for.” His tone was light, making it clear that he believed her even despite the words. If Ororo said this place was still standing, that was all the confirmation Logan needed. Snorting, he shrugged a shoulder. “I’m still here,” he offered. Maybe it didn’t mean much, considering his healing factor, but it was the truth. In spite of everything Logan had been through, he was still around. That was pretty impressive. “Me too. Even the stupid parts.”

Adapting as an important part of proper battle, Ororo had always understood that. She was capable of fighting in close quarters, had practiced martial arts for years, but what she had not thought to practice was battling enemies in the skies. Martial arts were obviously not helpful without a centre of gravity, and while she could grapple and form lightning in her hand, it was more destructive than she liked. With time and experience, Ororo had every confidence that she would excel fighting the demons as they invaded her home — the sky — and until then, she had powerful teammates to ensure Ororo wasn’t seriously injured. “Of course I was looking for it. The demons would hardly be my priority over dinner,” she said dryly. “Thank you,” she said, smiling to convey her gratitude. “I’m glad that I still have you here even when we’re separated from what we know. It means a lot to me,” she said honestly. “And for that, I’ll be buying your lobster.” As she had promised, the restaurant was still standing, and Ororo opened the door for Logan. Unsurprisingly, this close to curfew, no one else had dared enter. “After you, Logan,” she said, her smile widening.

[cloudwclker]

mccoysbeast:

“None yet, but I’m hopeful.” He shrugs his shoulders and gestures to a separate pile of paper on the coffee table in front of him. “I can’t shake the feeling that they’re connected to this place somehow, so I’m trying to collect all the knowledge that I have of this alternate dimension, or alternate city, or whatever it is we’re dealing with–independent of any sort of Government sponsored information. It’s–less than I expected.” He frowns thoughtfully and exhales. Hank is not the kind of person that would willingly shut any information out, to not pay attention to the goings on of the world around him–it’s essential to survival as a mutant, and especially a mutant that looks like he does. So he doesn’t understand why he can recall so little, but he has been wrapped up in his secondary mutation for quite some time, it’s possible things might have gone past him. 

He laughs and shakes his head, grins up at her. Something about it makes some of the tension in his chest dissipate, like just the sight of someone who he knows so well and trusts so completely is enough to assure him that the world hasn’t fallen completely off of its axis. “You know I love you, and you’d be hard pressed to find an individual I trust as much as I trust you, but I’d rather not involve another person in that particular problem. It’s just part of my…animal magnetism.” It’s an awful joke and he knows it, and he’s laughing genuinely by the time he gets through it. It’s worth it though, he’d tell a thousand terrible jokes if it meant he could ease the burden on her shoulders for a fraction of a second, a burden that he knows is partially because she and Scott are trying to afford him time to work. “You’re also the only person who knows, so know you must do with that information what you will.” 

“An old friend?” He raises an eyebrow and tries to rack his brain as to who that could be in reference to, but the other half of his brain is already at work inserting that piece of information about the atmosphere into what he knows. He even stops to make a note on a stray piece of paper. “Is this a friend-friend, or a friend?” 

“If there’s anyone that accomplish discoveries this impressive, it’s you,” Ororo said confidently. Hank was a member of her family and for that reason alone, she would believe in him no matter how difficult things became. Ororo’s loyalty knew no bounds, and thus far, Hank had never let her down. She didn’t expect that to suddenly change. “If I can help you at all, please let me know,” she added, touching his hand gently, ensuring that Hank understood how sincerely Ororo’s offer was. She would never pretend to intimately understand science as he did, but Ororo’s powers did offer insight into the world around them. “I’m sure it is all connected somehow, it always is,” she agreed. “The environment we’re in I may able to offer some insight about. As you know, my powers are deeply entwined with nature and the environment we’re in.” Presently, that was all the information she could offer, but Ororo hoped that it would help Hank in some way. “As for the government, I have no idea what happened there. It’s like a blank spot in my mind, but I’ve always paid some attention to politics.” As mutants, it was necessary. The government’s opinions, unfortunately, affected their wellbeing deeply.

Hank relaxed slightly and Ororo couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was a relief to see her friend feel marginally better, especially when they were burdened with so much presently. It was moments like this that Ororo was confident they would return to Earth safely, and for that, she was infinitely grateful to Hank and the rest of her family. “You know I love you too and that’s why I would help you even with a problem that… unique,” she replied with a laugh. As Hank’s joke registered, her laughter increased and she nodded, not answering any further for fear of offending Hank. His secondary mutation was still a sensitive topic. “I’m honoured to be among the people you trust,” Ororo said with a smile. “Thank you, Hank.”

Hank was obviously trying to make sense of who Ororo was referencing and it spoke to his intelligence that he didn’t immediately assume she was talking about Logan. Truthfully, Ororo had had very few committed relationships, and T’Challa and Logan were the only meaningful ones. “I suppose you can say that he is an old friend,” she replied, smiling. “But it’s very complicated. He has… commitments that make ours seem light-hearted.”

[cloudwclker]

lifeincarncte:

When Erik Lehnsherr had taught at the school, he had told his students, much to the Professor’s displeasure, that identification eventually led to extermination. It was the same, he argued, in the entire course of history, and he doubted that there would come a time when that would change. Jean had never subscribed to that view. Her own were more in line with Xavier’s, that people were capable of change, that generations could learn from the previous ones’ mistakes, and that mutants would one day be able to live as they were amongst humans. Registration was something that she had decided against only because the Phoenix had remained an ever-present threat. As she was now, Jean was more than willing to put her powers on a list, to tell anyone willing to listen what she was. A telepath was dangerous, but what she had been before was insanely different. It would’ve bred nothing but fear and distrust of mutants, which she wanted to avoid, not to mention that she had no idea as to the extent of the Phoenix Force’s powers.

“I never imagined it would be any other way. You know it’s the same for me with you, of course.” Ororo was someone that Jean loved and respected deeply. She was confident in herself, in her powers, and the way that she interacted with the younger students was truly admirable, reassuring them that no matter what powers they possessed, they could one day find a home within the X-Men. “It isn’t so much a change of heart as a change of circumstances,” Jean explained. “The Phoenix Force was dangerous, and to admit to having it within me might have placed a target on the school. Now, I do not live amongst the students, and any power I have is exclusively my own. The city is in danger, and if listing with Doom helps him fight that danger, then I want to do it. That’s what X-Men are for, isn’t it?”

Any person who understood history remotely could see the flaws in listing their powers. It was abundantly clear, dangerous in many ways, but Ororo would much rather risk herself than any of her students. The more mutants who registered, ones capable of defending themselves and their loved ones with minimal risk to the public that listed their powers, the less attention Doom would pay to those that refused. The President had many problems to face, hopefully the mutants would be the least of his worries, but Ororo understood very little about Victor von Doom’s political opinions. Strangely, little was known about their president in general, and without the knowledge that President Doom supported mutant rights, Ororo intended to focus her attention on defence rather than offence. Obviously, New Yorkers needed to work together and declaring war on their president due to fear and oppression would only worsen their situation. Jean’s willingness was obviously something that she admired and respected, only confirming Ororo’s opinion that she was doing the right thing in this situation.

“I’ve never doubted that for a moment,” Ororo replied, offering her friend a smile in response. She never doubted that Jean loved her dearly and she hoped that Jean felt similarly. Their friendship had never been an insecure one, something that they had been forced to learn. In combat together, they could never doubt one another, and that luckily extended into their daily lives. “You don’t necessarily need to admit to the Phoenix Force,” she pointed out. “I never listed any of my Omega powers, nor do I intend to.” She only listed what was common knowledge, as Scott had. “Yes, it is what the X-Men are for, but we should exercise some caution. If President Doom thinks that the X-Men are more of a threat than an ally, we could have a serious problem. I suggest a compromise, list what the public is aware of and understands and no more.” Most importantly, doing that would protect Jean.

[cloudwclker]

@panthergcd

Attending Doom’s party with T’Challa was certainly a means to grab attention. The King of Wakanda was well known and warmly accepted by the majority of New Yorkers and there was no shortage of gazes as they entered, her hand clutching T’Challa’s tightly. Ororo wasn’t remotely bothered by it, she had grown accustomed to being ogled at years ago during the days where villagers had revered her as a Goddess. Smiling faintly, she leaned towards T’Challa and quietly said, “I believe we’re attracting some attention. Have I mentioned how handsome you look?” As she spoke, she lead him towards the edge of the party, away from the noise and some larger groups of people. Although she had never minded attention, Ororo did prefer to have T’Challa focused on her, and it was nothing that she bothered hiding.

Once they arrived in a corner, she stepped closer to T’Challa and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Were you aware that Doom was throwing a celebration for resources? I find it slightly hypocritical, this certainly used what we found up quickly, but I suppose the President wants to celebrate his people.” As a ruler, T’Challa would have far more insight into the situation than Ororo did. “Difficult topics aside, I am pleased that you asked me to be your date. It’s about time, isn’t it?”

[cloudwclker]

wreakhcvok:

@cloudwclker

Living with his adopted family had taught Alex one thing–his real feelings about situations did not matter, it was easier and better for everyone if he just put on a face–however Todd would have acted, and just–dealt with things. But Todd is dead, has been dead, and Alex has his real family back now–he’s not great at it yet, but he’s learning how to actually vocalize things. Like his frustration with the fact he’s pretty sure Scott is avoiding him, when he isn’t too busy looking at Alex like he’s some completely breakable miracle that’s going to dissipate if he actually engages with it. Alex is trying, he desperately wants to be a part of the life that Scott has built for himself, but–its hard not to feel like it’s only going one way. He knows that Scott and Ororo work pretty much hand in hand to keep the school running while Hank does–whatever he does when he isn’t teaching, and they’ve known each other since the whole thing started up basically, so she’s probably a good bet for–talking, about it. 

He knocks gently on the door to her office and smiles warmly, even though it feels like his skin is crawling. This is probably stupid, he should just–deal with it himself, she has a thousand other things she could be doing instead of this. “Hey,” He exhales, pushes those thoughts away to the you know that’s emotionally unhealthy probably/things to unlearn part of his brain. “Is this a bad time? I just–wanted to talk to you about something, about–about Scott. But it’s not urgent–if you have things you need to be doing, which I’m sure you do.” He drags a hand through his hair and sighs. He’s even worse at this than he thought, than the thousand times he ran it through in his head. He could blow this whole room to shreds as cover, just run away. Ororo would probably be fine. 

Leading the X-Men alongside Scott and helping to run the school was more responsibility than Ororo ever imagined having at Xavier’s. She took it seriously, of course, and she was proud to be so well trusted among her friends and loved ones. Unlike many of the X-Men, Ororo hadn’t been a student of Xavier’s as a child — or at all. When she came to the school, she had been a young woman, trained by sacred priestesses, having spent years tending to the needs of small villages. Ororo had always accepted responsibility readily, she had personally ensured the survival of many impoverished villages, unable to feed and hydrate their public. As an X-Man, that continued, and once Ororo and New York was finally returned to Earth, her duties would continue. She would never leave towns abandoned willingly, and the fact that she had been forced to wasn’t sitting well with her. Currently, her mind was on Xavier’s and the mutants. They needed Ororo’s full attention, panicked and vulnerable.

As she looked over attendance records, checking to ensure everyone was accounted for after another evening with demons outside their doors, Ororo heard a knock at the door. She looked up and smiled immediately when Alex came into view. She knew him relatively little, but as Scott’s younger brother, he was practically family to Ororo already. “Good morning,” she greeted kindly. “No, it’s a great time, Alex. I’d love to talk to you,” she said honestly. “Please, come in and shut the door behind you. I have fresh chai tea made if you like that at all.” It was made authentically, a recipe from her time in Africa — she personally mixed the spices — but Alex didn’t need to know all of that. “I’m happy you came by,” Ororo added honestly. She had been intending to speak to Alex for quite some time, but waiting for people to be ready was crucial.

[cloudwclker]

panthergcd:

Unlike Ororo, T’Challa’s powers were not tied to the world. They were not even tied to Wakanda, though it often felt as though they were. The Black Panther’s power remained stagnate whether he was in Wakanda or New York, whether he was on Earth or far from it. Storm, he knew, was different. Her control over the environment remained, of course – there was nothing powerful enough to break the bond between Ororo and the world around her – but the environment itself had changed in ways that they did not entirely understand. T’Challa could not pretend to understand the complexities of it all, but he could lend a listening ear. He could allow her to voice her frustrations, he could try to help her find possible solutions to her plight. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. For Ororo, he would do anything.

He returned her smile with one of his own, hoping she wasn’t surprised by his invitation. He made no secret as to how he felt about Ororo, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel anything but welcome in his home, even if said home was a temporary one. (No place but Wakanda could ever truly earn the title of ‘home’ for T’Challa; he knew Ororo was aware of the fact.) “I have no business or company more important than you,” he told her, smile widening ever so slightly as he said it. “I can’t imagine such a thing exists.” There was no one he’d rather be with than her, a fact that had been clear for some time. Ever since he’d met her, he’d known on some level that Ororo Munroe was not the sort of woman one ever ‘got over.’ “That is true,” he agreed, making a face. “Recreation is not the Americans’ strong suit.” Following Ororo to the couch, T’Challa took a seat beside her. “You are always welcome to talk to me,” he told her seriously. He listened as she explained her dilemma, nodding his head carefully. “It sounds frustrating,” he agreed, brow furrowed. “Perhaps we can find some way to alleviate it? I could gather some tools and we could take samples, do tests of the environment. Perhaps if we understood exactly how it differed from Earth, you could adjust?”

All of Ororo’s life, she had been deeply attune with the environment that surrounded her. Even before her mutation had been activated, she had been aware of small changes in the weather, like moisture in the air or dryness in the earth. Oftentimes, the company Ororo had kept was astonished by her affinity, and before long, they never questioned her guesses regarding the weather. After she had become a ‘weather witch,’ Ororo’s connection only deepened, and from across the world, she could feel when something was out of place. It was deeply integral to who she was, her power replied upon such a deep connection to thrive, and Ororo tied her health with the world around her deeply, although now she realized that was unhealthy. Not even the planet they lived on was reliable, the world far too chaotic and unpredictable. Unfortunately, the planet they now resided upon had none of Earth’s same consistencies. Her affinity still existed, she could sense small changes, call upon the atmosphere and lightning and rain, but it was much more shallow than Ororo was accustomed to.

T’Challa was pleased to see her and Ororo could easily admit that his joy was contagious. The subject matter was heavy and deeply personal, but T’Challa always brought a smile to her face. “I have no company more important than you either,” Ororo replied honestly. She wasn’t sure if T’Challa understood the thinly veiled question in her words, but she was hoping he had, Ororo had gotten the confirmation that she had hoped for. “I appreciate that,” she replied with a smile. T’Challa’s feelings were becoming more pronounced every time she saw him and understandably, she loved his undivided attention. T’Challa was a smooth, graceful man, and when he flirted, he did so tactfully. “Americans do many things well, but honouring our traditions is not one of them.” There were many things that Americans failed at entirely, though Ororo had no desire to focus on the many ways North America had failed. “Thank you,” Ororo replied. “It would be my honour to hear about your problems and doubts as well.” T’Challa was a king, but no man or woman was entirely invulnerable. “I’m not sure how,” she admitted. “I’ve tried all the strategies that usually heightens my connection to our world, but none have worked.” Ororo had never considered approaching the problem scientifically, she had never bene gifted that way, but she trusted T’Challa to run the tests accurately and explain their results in terms she would understand. “I would appreciate if you made the time to do that with me,” she replied slowly. “I may not understand exactly what it means, but it could help my powers and help us return to Earth if you’re willing. Together, we may solve the problem.”

[cloudwclker]

panthergcd:

Wakanda had no shortage of enemies. There were people who felt entitled to everything the country had to offer, people who felt they deserved to have access to its resources with no real reasoning as to why. As the leader of Wakanda, a leader who refused to give away his resources the same way those before him had, T’Challa was a man with many people out for his head, so to speak. It was rarely something he was genuinely concerned about. Between his own abilities and the protection of the Dora Milaje, he had little to worry about from any enemy that might come for him. His father, of course, had had those same resources and ended up dead regardless, but Klaue had attacked T’Chaka with his family present. T’Challa did not have children to protect if he was attacked while they were in the room, did not have a wife in need of sacrificing himself for. He was a formidable foe, and it was something he made no secret of. If your enemies knew you were strong, they tended to stay away. 

This meant, of course, that when they came, you had to be far more aware of them. If an enemy knew your strength and chose to challenge you regardless, they were either powerful or stupid. T’Challa never assumed the latter, tempting though it may be. “Anything distinctive about their weapons or masks?” T’Challa’s brow was furrowed in thought. The presence of the masks suggested forethought. Nodding at her statement, he offered her a smile. “Thank you,” he told her. “For warning me and for staying at my side. Let’s confront them together and find out who sent them here.” He took her hand almost hesitantly, as if asking permission, and walked towards the door.

T’Challa was not a man without enemies. He ruled a nation with the most powerful resource on Earth and he had changed that nation from the inside out, remodelling it incredibly. What T’Challa had accomplished Ororo endlessly admired, but many people would view it differently. They would resent T’Challa for Wakanda hiding vibranium and they would resent T’Challa for finally showing the public Wakanda existed. Unfortunately, there was no compromise that would please everyone, and Ororo was not going to dwell on how much more peaceful their world would be if people suddenly showed compassion. Right now, her focus was solely on the possible battle ahead, defending T’Challa and Wakanda, and most of all, whether her friend would cope with the threat in a healthy manner. T’Challa had endless control, had honed it throughout the years, but few enemies were confident enough to attack during the day, let alone whilst their planet was separated from every sound escape route. It implied that they were powerful or wishing for death.

As T’Challa questioned his possible enemy, Ororo stepped to consider for a moment and slowly, formed a picture in her mind. “Some worse masks made of wood engraved with different symbols, but I was unable to make them out. Tomorrow I can study what wooden masks mean,” she offered. T’Challa needed all the aid he could be offered, though he had struggled with more difficult enemies in the past. Still, this was Ororo’s job, and attacking a man she cared for deeply was personal whether Ororo admitted it or not. “Does that help at all?” She asked quietly, her eyes never once leaving T’Challa’s. “I’m honoured to be by your side,” she said honestly. T’Challa had made many mistakes in the past, but he had proven what kind of man he truly was, and that was a wonderful one. “I’ll be at your side the whole time,” she promised, accepting T’Challa’s hand. When they left the building, Ororo scanned their immediate area and listening to a whisper on the wind, lead T’Challa towards a hidden alleyway. “There are two hiding here,” she informed him quietly. “Proceed with caution, Panther.”

[cloudwclker]

panthergcd:

There were few people T’Challa trusted to the extent he trusted Ororo, and for good reason. If anyone on Earth had earned his faith, it was her. She had every right to hate him, had every right to view him in a negative light. He’d abandoned her once, left her alone without so much as a reason to his departure. He had still not explained it, had still never told her why that day in the market changed him so. Anyone else would have taken the excuse to never speak to him again, but Ororo was not anyone else. She never hesitated to come when he needed her, never even attempted to politely point him towards another instructor at Xavier’s that could help him train the young mutants in his country. It made sense that his trust in her would translate to battle as well, made sense that their connection would be just as strong when fighting demons as it was when having a simple conversation.

They were not the same children they had been before. It was a fact T’Challa was well aware of, one he knew Ororo recognized as well. The first time they met, the first time they were together, they were so young, so free of responsibilities. T’Challa had been a prince, but his leadership was a distant concern. His uncle had still been on the throne, had promised to stay there until T’Challa chose to take over. Ororo had not yet had the X-Men or Xavier’s to worry herself with. Neither of them would trade their responsibilities for the world, and T’Challa knew it – she loved the X-Men as much as he loved Wakanda – but they did complicate things. They couldn’t be as reckless and carefree as they once had. There was some disappointment in that. “I will say it as many times as you need me too,” he murmured softly. “I would tell you how I felt about you daily if I could only find the words.” He took her hand, gently running his thumb over hers before allowing it to drop. He was not a man who hid the way he felt, and he never had been. It was not in his nature. “I would like that,” he responded, nodding his head. Truthfully, there was little that could dampen his mood when Ororo was present. “They do not seem to enjoy it, though they don’t have much time for regrets.” He knew that violence was not something she regularly took part in, and he attempted to refrain from it himself when she was around for her comfort if nothing else. The demons, though, were different. T’Challa was something of a religious man, but he saw no souls in the creatures’ eyes. He felt no remorse for killing them. “This king will do everything in his power to try,” he told her with a smile. At her question, he nodded. “I would be very appreciative.”

There were moments when Ororo was hurt by T’Challa’s actions despite it having been years ago. That would change if T’Challa ever explained what had fuelled his sudden abandonment, though she highly doubted T’Challa would ever be inclined to reveal that particular secret. He trusted her completely, Ororo had never doubted it. It had been proven repeatedly with each time T’Challa contacted her, asking Ororo to aid the mutants in Wakanda, and had been proven when he invited her to his chambers later in the night and they shared for hours. Their relationship was not solely physical, although at times, Ororo wished otherwise. If their connection was solely in attraction and not in the heart and the mind, T’Challa would be a much easier man to forget. As it was, T’Challa never completely vacated her mind, and Ororo was slowly coming to terms was that. Trapped in New York City on an unknown planet alongside the king, Ororo was being forced to, and rather than view it as a negative, as a hindrance to her future with a different potential suitor, Ororo had every intention to spend every possible moment with T’Challa. Their fortune was now entwined.

Rather than vocalizing her thoughts, Ororo kept her feelings guarded, a stark difference from T’Challa who did not bother to hide his feelings for her. It felt good, Ororo had to admit, to have T’Challa being so up front, but Ororo was not quite ready for that. She had come to terms with the world thrusting them towards each other, was even enthusiastic about it, but Ororo needed time in order to admit that she cared for T’Challa deeply. Luckily, he in no way pushed her towards confession despite their limited time. They were both wise, both aware that their responsibilities and commitments complicated their possible future together. It was not impossible for them to be together, but it would be difficult. “I’m listening,” Ororo replied with a smile. “I don’t need daily, I just need every once in a while,” she replied, catching his hand in hers. When he dropped it, Ororo reached back for T’Challa hand and grasped it in her own. “Then let me start now,” she said, squeezing his hand as she spoke. “You’re more handsome than I remember from when I saw you last.” Truthfully, Ororo felt that way every time she saw T’Challa. Her memory could never do him justice, although she wondered whether that was her bias speaking. “No, I suppose they don’t. Do you ever wonder whether killing them is the right decision? Technically speaking, we invaded their home.”  The demons were violent creatures, but they were also native to whatever planet they were forced to invade. Causing their extinction was an imbalance to the natural order of this world, and it was one that Ororo was sensitive to. “I look forward to your efforts,” she replied, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Ororo wrapped her arms around T’Challa tightly, though truthfully, it was unnecessary. She used the wind to fly, it could easily move them both without touching. “Are you comfortable?” She asked quietly, knowing that it would most likely be cold for T’Challa as they travelled towards his apartment.