#cyclxpswasright

[quecnofcrime]

@cyclxpswasright

Charity gatherings were one of Lydia’s major pastimes. She swore that they were crucial to maintain a good image, and while Felicia could agree, she couldn’t help but believe her beloved mother genuinely enjoyed giving to the ‘misfortunate.’ (Wasn’t Lydia oh so tactful? Incredible, really!) After receiving a panicked call from Mrs. Hardy, begging her to go to a gathering to spread ‘mutant awareness’ — whoever titled that function really lacked creativity — Felicia agreed when she heard that the function would be held in the MET, and everyone knew they had some very pricy pieces. Her collection was barren these days, she’d had numerous lucrative offers on the black market, and it was time to start rebuilding. A secondary motivator was that mutants were really quite fascinating, too, and the more connections Felicia had in the city, the less people would see a socialite and think, ‘Wow, I bet she’s the infamous Black Cat!’

As all charity gatherings were, people milled about, looking lost, but one man stood out to her. Felicia recognized him from somewhere, a magazine cover perhaps, but Felicia couldn’t place the specific issue. Scanning the crowd, she noted that the patrons seemed to be casting glances at him as he made a beeline towards the drink table. Curiously, she cut through the crowd until she appeared at the man’s side. “You realize these functions are supposed to be fun? Have some champagne, smile a bit, everyone seems to be staring at you.” She picked up a flute before asking, “Do you think that’s because of your handsome features?”

[cloudwclker]

@cyclxpswasright

Woe as she was to admit it, Ororo was not surprised in the least that the government was once again turning against its powered people. The Panel was being run by incredible, strong women, but unfortunately, without political sway, Natasha Romanoff and Daisy Johnson were powerless to aid the superheroes’ cause and fight the martial law stacked innocent civilians by President Doom. It was designed to strike fear into the hearts of New Yorkers, that much was clear, but the demons added an extra layer of mystery to their situation. No amount of praying to her Goddesses gave Ororo clarity on what Doom was planning, though she suspected it would end end well for mutantkind. If he was demanding that super powered people compile a list of their powers for government use, it could only be for abuse. Ignoring that demand was equally as foolish, however, due to the X-Men’s public identities. If no mutant listed their powers, it would demand attention. 

Sat in her garden, Ororo continued contemplating the best course of action, awaiting Scott’s arrival, she sat crossed legged, mediating. It helped organize her thoughts, her worries, and she hoped it would help guide her in the conversation she was moments away from having. Scott Summers was a man that Ororo trusted. For years, they had fought side by side, and his judgment was often one Ororo valued. As Scott entered, she opened her eyes, and patted the ground beside her. “I’m happy you could come see me on such short notice, Scott,” Ororo said with a smile. “I was hoping we could discuss Doom’s demand that the powered people list what they’re capable of. I believe that if we outright refuse, the government may target us. To protect our students, perhaps we could choose some of us with mostly public identities, like ourselves.”