𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠. warren would be stunned if he awoke to a sleeping laura, their normality shattered with one simple act as mundane as sleeping. he’s found that her dreams are no friends of hers, and even if she goes a night without witnessing a nightmare - the bliss of a normal night scape does not last long. thus, his hand automatically finds the small of her back when she rises, something clearly on her mind.
he takes it all in stride, opening one eye to look at her through the grogginess that he’s swimming away from and towards reality. warren takes in the brown of her hair as the light spills across her features, the beautiful expression of her face despite being so twisted with confusion and the lingering ache of hurt. he would kiss her now if not for the bottle of alcohol in her hands, and the fact that she was opening up to him when she so often kept to herself.
he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. normal couples wouldn’t exactly say that this was a memory to look back upon in their later years, but warren and laura had never been normal.
“knowing charles, it’s more than likely,” warren says, voice low, still laced with sleep. he thinks about the man who’d given everything for the good of mutant kind as a whole, his own heart doing a squeeze at the bitter reminder that he was no longer with them. it always felt like he was untouchable, but even the untouchable could die. laura knew that well.
“what do you see when he comes to you?”
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗵𝗼𝗹 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀 on her palette. she doesn’t want to forget this dream .... she wants to analyze and dissect. a woman 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 quickly becomes a woman 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 . so often she pushes charles from her memories. ( 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. ) what kind of 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 was she if she couldn’t even protect the man that stood for her kind ? often the guilt of his death weighs heavily on her shoulders. a 𝒂𝒖𝒅𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 growl presents itself, fist clenching and knocking into the glass panel. rage bubbles up from her chest and festers in her throat 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱. to occupy the desire of the bottle being thrown she lifts it, taking another hefty drink.
his voice is a 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 of her emotional growth. pulling her back, grounding her. even when muscles tense anxiously. she longs to tear apart the room around her: for 𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 her mind was the calmest. a being of ( rage & pain ). 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 trying to do better. to reconnect & rebuild her HUMANITY.
she also reminds herself of the large bill sum to grace warren if her tantrum were to be fleshed out. laura inhales sharply, 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐.
“ a desert. he’s just sitting there. like he’s waiting for something. like he’s expectant of me. there’s just fucking sand, everywhere. no landmarks. and i can’t smell anything. what’s a wolverine without a sense of smell? ” brows furrow: agitated. 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒. “ i’ve seen it the past five nights. and i keep running to him with no progress, of course. fucking dreams. ” things in lauras life tended to get messy when she wasn’t able to WIELD 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥. and dreams meant absolutely no control. “ but tonight there was this girl in a hijab. she had purple eyes with her hand on charles’ shoulder. but the wind keeps shifting the fabric of her outfit and i can’t see her clearly except for her eyes. ” turning to him she sets the bottle back down, puzzled but her 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝 is clear. and like an animal: she WILL follow it. laura had to find her. no sense of malice from the girl in her dream. laura grasps this girl may be a key or vantage point to her.
walking back over to their 𝒍𝒖𝒙𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 bed she takes a seat on the ledge her backside pressing against him. she reaches for his hand, intertwining their fingers. she’s not good with this: the physical aspect of their relationship. but 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 her each day wither he realizes it or not. warren shows her 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 & 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮. to be something more ᵗʰᵃᶰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵉˡˡ of 𝖠 𝖶𝖤𝖠𝖯𝖮𝖭 she was built to be. and she tries to be better for him. for herself.
was that the key to her humanity ? ｔｏ ｌｏｖｅ ？
“ i have to find her warren. i’m not sure why yet. but i have to go. i trust charles even in my subconscious. ” she doesn’t say it, she wouldn’t, but their hands together alone calmed her. 𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭. she lifts his hand to her, bowing her head to press her forehead to the top of his palm. a voiceless please. “ i want you to come with me. ” hazel hues peer down at him then to gauge his reaction. “ and i know i sound fucking nuts. but we’re nowhere near a desert and i’ll need transportation. ” she’s attempting humor. its bad, like always. but her free hand reaches out to softly rest on a silky wing, fingers burrowing beneath sleep 𝑟𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑑 feathers.
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