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paixaorpg2008-06-26 05:08 pm
You can't get lost if you don't know where you're going (Completed)
Content: Rogue seems to be off to an inauspicious start for her stay in Paixao; Larxene takes note of this. Hilarity--or something--ensues.
Setting: Vanaheim Gate
Time: Nighttime
Warnings: Larxene is a warning. =D Do you need anything else?
Rogue woke up with a tiny groan, curled up uncomfortably on the ground in her mass of cobbled together thrift store clothes. She remembered falling asleep while hitching a ride in a mac truck, but after that..... he must have gotten to his destination and dumped her at the side of the road. It was rude, but she wouldn't dare complain, not when she had gotten so far along her way and not been directly touched when she was pitched out.... A quick check revealed that he hadn't even stolen anything. A bit shaky, she climbed to her feet, approaching the line--she wasn't familiar with any city covered by such immense domes, but it looked beautiful, and there were so many people to get inside.....
Unlike most though, she was content to wait, keeping her hands to herself and not looking anyone in the eye. It was her turn soon enough, and the man at the booth smiled at her, clipboard in hand. "Name?"
"M--My name's Rogue." She stumbled over her simple response, soft southern accent seeming glaringly out of place compared with his blander tones; she'd nearly offered him her real name, her old name. The one she knew she shouldn't use anymore.
"Here are some pamphlets and a journal; welcome to Paixao, and enjoy your stay." The man at the booth hardly paid attention as he grabbed a handful of pamphlets and a vibrant, forest-green journal, pressing them into hands that hadn't stretched out to take them.
"D-don't--!" She didn't have time to do more than choke out a broken warning before they touched; she gasped in pain, senses reeling for a moment before she jerked away. The pamphlets scattered on the counter between them as the man convulsed, crying out and slumping back in his chair--dazed, but conscious, she was relieved to see. Rogue didn't notice the thick shock of white that had tainted her bangs now, too focused on the fact that she was glowing, a faint white light emanating from every inch of unexposed skin she had--which, granted, wasn't much. It almost felt like the light came from inside too, burned against her fear and despair; it was confusing and conflicting, and quite upsetting, so Rogue did the only thing she knew she could do, now.
She ran. She turned and bolted as fast as trembling legs would carry her, mindlessly clutching the journal she'd been given as she fled through the gates and into the city beyond. There had to be some place she could hide....
no subject
How nice it was to not have to hide her identity when she wanted to have fun. And what a scared little mouse she had before her, away from home and all alone.
She was practically giddy. "Tell me, what was it you did back there~?"
no subject
Still, the question made her blood run cold; it looked as though she wanted to disappear entirely into the trenchcoat trying to swallow her up. "It--I--" I didn't mean to. I didn't want to do it. I didn't try to do anything. It's not my fault. I don't know what I did. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what's wrong with me..... How was she supposed to explain when she didn't know what was going on herself? Was she really not in trouble for this? "I-I don't know. It's my.... m-mutation...." She didn't know much more than that, really. Just as much as the average citizen--that mutants were potentially dangerous, neither liked nor trusted, and could be anyone. Seem affiliated at your own risk.