paixaorpg | You can't get lost if you don't know where you're going (Completed)

Character: Rogue and Larxene
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....

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's not normal...." Wasn't it bad? Wasn't it always? It set you apart, it made people hate you, it made you a stranger to what you'd once been closest to.... it made you Other. It made you dangerous. Of course mutations were bad things! Right? Why else was the public so hostile towards those who had them? Or was hers the only one....?

"You're--!!" She caught her breath and stumbled back, more from it seeming as though she was about to collide with Larxene than anything else; she hadn't even had time to shield her face. It was all Rogue could do to stare and nod. She'd never expected to meet another mutant, much less one who so voluntarily, openly demonstrated their.... abilities..... in public. And meanwhile, the memories poured out, fresh and vivid and full of the passion of a young woman coming into her own--mostly typical memories of a happy home life, though two in particular would stand out.

Love, mischief, adventure. A loving kiss. A bright surge of pain, an alien rush of.... something flooding her... Memories, feelings, thoughts, strength.... Screaming and horror, a boy looking almost withered as he collapsed onto the bed, unconscious. The confusion and anguish would last for a long time to come, struggling to subdue the alien personality before it submerged her, dealing with the feelings of being two people who didn't belong in a single body together. A voice, a whisper of that sentiment, always carried with her since....

And just now, the gate. The barest brush of skin on skin, fingers against palm, a briefer flash of pain. The influx and submersion this time were briefer, simpler.... Not so much a personality as some sort of inner brilliance, bursting from containment to spill from her skin in a wash of light. That same inner light, twisting and snarling angrily against her darker emotions, the internal conflict only adding to her confusion and panic. Running, as she'd done before....

Had she known her memories had been gleaned, Rogue would have been considerably more nervous. As it was, she simply stood in awe. But even with that display, she wouldn't dare risk so much as a handshake. After all, what if one layer of clothing wasn't enough? Only Larxene was wearing gloves....

You can't get lost if you don't know where you're going (Completed)

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