(3:42AM. It's day two of being back in Etraya, and now that the dust has settled, Sophie hasn't found much motivation to leave the room she claimed as hers, temporary until those renovations Julian promised are in place. It's a mess in there, she didn't unpack as much as she just took whatever she needed out of her bags and let a tornado find homes for them, aside from the snack stash she keeps that has just run out. Today, pretty glitchy, she can't tell who's awake and who's dreaming, but she does need to step out of her room for some actual food, and what better time to do it but at who cares about anything this late o'clock?
She said the kitchen is off-limits to her, but how hard can it be to fry an egg and set it on some bread? Hard, apparently very hard, because while she is preoccupied with the offline game she has on her phone, the egg gradually starts to burn until the smell is so overpowering in the absence of any other strong scent that she finally notices.
Shit, fuck, shit fuck, fuck, shit. Fire off, but the smell... Does fanning make it worse? Shit.)
[Quentin is also struggling to sleep tonight, for a similar yet also fundamentally different reason. Both of their heads are too quiet, but Quentin's powers aren't glitchy. There just aren't nearly as many minds as he's used to hearing. Downside of having a telepathic range that covers modestly about half the planet.
In any case, it makes Sophie's panic nearly impossible to not hear, not when she's clearly one of the few people awake around here.]
/Please tell me the mansion's not on fire. I don't wanna get out of bed./
(Such a wonderful mood she is, and with the points she made in Aphaia, maybe she can ask Aurora to bring some fan favorites. Surely Player 2 would like some as well, and since she's in a wonderful mood, why not a surprise? That's why she isn't asking Quentin, and why she tries to shield herself the best she can as she enters his mindscape. It's... Weirdly cozy, she finds, all the books, the fireplace, and she is choosing to ignore the giant portrait of him on the wall. It's going to take her a long ass time for her to find anything, this place is fucking massive, but she sighs as she gathers courage, pats her white dress, and heels tap with no sound as she moves towards the shelves.
His mindscape is nothing like hers. Hers is a penthouse, the rooftop similar to her room on Krakoa, and all the shit she has are as limited edition DVD sets, as TV show seasons and movies. The one room where she chooses to revisit her things is empty, aside from a TV, a couch, and that's about it. This is a lot.
Sophie hums a song as her fingers move through the titles, waiting until one of them gives her a hint of what she could ask Aurora for, until she freezes in spot. The book has her name, and she frowns, arms crossed as she stares at it.
[Is she serious with this shit? Like actually serious? Sophie really has the nerve to do... all that other bullshit and then try sneaking into Quentin Quire's head?? Absolutely the fuck not. Fuck Sophie, honestly. Fuck her and the non-existent horse she came in on.]
Anyone ever tell you you're very nosy?
[He hasn't kicked her out of his head yet, for who even knows what reason, but he's leaning against a shelf somewhere behind her with his arms crossed. How long has he been there, watching her? Long enough.]
( It's a little after he's arrived on Solmara that he tests the strength of their connection and, surprisingly, it holds. Maybe it's the fact that they're both omegas for telepaths. Or maybe it's because Quentin's little psi-comm is just that good. Whatever the case, he reaches out through the connection, locks onto Quentin's psi-signature, and comes in like a shooting star across the sky. )
The toll his powers had taken on his body — the lengths he'd pushed himself to with having to rely on his telekinetic abilities over his telepathic ones... he's drained in a way he hasn't been here on Etraya or for a hot minute now, but. He knows the signs — knows how it feels when both his body and mind are about to give out on him and he's glad he'd managed to take down the other telepath prior to all this.
There's a sort of loud WARNING. WARNING. WARNING. going off that he's about to burn out — that he's moments away from losing consciousness and, in doing so, possibly sending a jolt of telepathic fuckery through their connection that's likely to crash into Quentin. A shooting star falling from the sky and slamming straight into the Earth. That's how it's going to feel when it hits him. Everything within him aches, including his mind, and he just barely manages to grab hold of the thread they have for a connection as he tries to navigate back to the portal Aurora left for them. )
Think I'm about to crash. Might want to brace yourself for impact, bud.
[Okay, well, that's not ideal. But at least Nate isn't trying to fry his psi-comms. Appreciate that, buddy.
Quentin doesn't bother wasting too many words, since he's not sure how much longer Nate's gonna be able to talk. Besides, he needs the spare brainpower to prepare himself for whatever psychic explosion the guy is about to unleash. Psychic surge protector, yeah? Can't be that hard to figure out.]
/Consider my loins girded, thanks for the heads up. You got Summers?/
[Quentin can tell Nate's headed for the portal, so no need to arrange a meeting spot, which means the priority is Scott. Sure, it's unlikely that Nate would leave the kid behind, and he may not even be conscious long to answer, but... worth checking. Just to make sure. Nate's not used to having teammates, after all.]
(Being dressed up in his room just feels wrong when he's already seen her a complete mess, and wow, also made her see it, too. That's the reason why as soon as she arrives at his room, it all comes off. Jewelry in her bag, now long hair in a messy bun, and whatever baggier shirt she can snatch from his wardrobe. It's pretty okay lately to be here, very surprisingly — hang out, fuck, sleep (even poorly, considering his sleeping habits include taking up all the bed space, squish to the side and hog all the blankets). It's a huge step up from literally wanting to drown him in the pool whenever he spoke, so.
Right now, however, she's taking a bit of a break with her game in her hands, focus over 9000, which means she tosses, and she turns, and she gasps, and she growls, and she celebrates, and she accidentally disconnects the charger from the plug, and she reaches the final level — and she stares at the screen turning off when the battery depletes.)
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(Betrayal. Betrayal to the last degree. With disbelief slowing her down, she just sits up to stare at Quentin for a second before she can find words to convey the dumb shit she just did.)
[It's been... weird, the pattern Sophie's apparently decided to set lately. Not bad weird, at least not so far. Just... weird.
Look, it's not like they spent a lot of time hanging out the first time she visited his room. It's perfectly reasonable for him to be a little bewildered when she showed up the second time without immediately jumping his bones. Even if she did. Later. But before that it was confusing! And then the same thing happened again. And now a third time. Thus establishing a pattern, wherein Sophie makes herself at home in his room for unknown reasons, sits around for approximately 1-2 hours playing her games, and eventually decides she'd very much like them to fuck each other senseless. Which... well, he doesn't understand why she chooses his room to game any more than he gets why she feels the need to wear his shirts, but he also can't say he has any complaints about the arrangement. She seems perfectly content to let him ignore her, and it's always right around the time—either coincidentally or by design—where he starts feeling a little claustrophobic that she switches gears. It's... nice, strangely enough.
Anything to get that OFF OF HER, and then, back to her game, just listening idly... Until Quentin goes ahead and offers Jayce how to kick her out, and he's squinting at him for it.
Yyyyyeah, time to get off of bed. Her hair is braided, which still makes it a bit messy, and since he wasn't out or anything like that, it's her own loungewear. Miracles are real.)
... Quentin. Why, pray tell, are you teaching the flatscan our business again?
[Jayce is making his first pathetic attempt at psychic defense, and Quentin is hella petty, so he's giving the guy some time to gain a nice false sense of security before Quentin tears it away from him. Constructively, of course! But that means he needs to occupy himself in the meantime. And that means chatting with Sophie, since apparently she's clearly not understanding the Vision here.]
I'm putting together a contact sheet for those of us with abilities to be able to reach out to each other easier, since we're fairly spread out for this mission. Care to volunteer?
it's branding dude. i don't expect you to understand.
to answer your question: duh. i told you, superheroing is what i do, and this world is like the slightly more boring version of mine. doesn't even have the savage land. damn shame.
wait hold on "those of us"? thought you were a no-powers loser?
[For a long, long moment Quentin lets Nate's statement sit without a verbal response. It's not like it's news to him that Julian and Hope have disappeared off the psychic landscape. He's got the same damn powers as Nate, for fuck's sake. But he's... trying not to be a dick to Nate. Partly because it went oh-so-well last time, but partly because the dude just doesn't deserve to get the brunt of Quentin's stupid angst.
Fortunately, he's got other, more important, shit to talk to Nate about. Certain rumors he's heard about guys with glowing eyes muttering ominous bullshit about "understanding" or showing people "a different perspective."]
/Gone or dead, yeah. I've done a half dozen psychic sweeps of the planet and got nothing. Well, nothing except some freaky psychic influence floating around the telepathic landscape. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?/
(First day was a quiet one. Unpack all the shit that she had brought from Earth, her room now a nerd's dream of consoles, lights, shelves of games. Quentin's hard work in organizing her room is taken into lightly into consideration while she puts away clothes, jewelry, accessories, lingerie, perfume — she might as well have taken the entirety of the planet with her, so excuse her if she fucks up his VeRy PrIsTine OrgAnizAtion.
It was... Good. Most people don't come with an emotion switch button, but she does, and the longer it's off, the longer it takes for her to come back. For a day, she lets herself feel, get lost in a task as she thaws. It's been a lot, there are many worries floating in her mind, a lot of uncertainties, not to mention the less than pleasant trip in an evil lab she didn't sign up for. Videogames, sleep, sleep, sleep...
Second day, however? She's more herself, which means she knocks on Quentin's door. As soon as he gives an indication she can come in? A hurricane just smashes a kiss to his lips, arms around his neck — no stupid arguing foreplay, no talk, no hours of videogame and idle conversation while they're together and apart.
She's emotional, she's tired, she's stressed, she's a little traumatized, she's goddamn horny, she's missed him and his company a lot, deal with it.)
Not that that's new. It's pretty much been the story of Quentin's whole life since his godforsaken x-gene woke up. Part of the joy of being a mutant. Everything that's happened in the past weeks—losing Julian, stupid cosmic anomaly bullshit, Sophie getting abducted and tortured—it all just sucks, but... Well, that's life. It is what it is. No use losing any sleep over it. Quentin just got this pink hair permanently, and he'd rather it not go gray, thanks.
He answers the door in person when Sophie knocks, mostly because despite his acceptance of the overall suckiness of literally everything, he can't help feeling a vague sense of restlessness. Physically getting up and opening the door is more effort than using TK or just telepathically indicating she can come in, and for whatever reason the extra steps feel... almost comforting, in a way. Normal? Ugh. Sure. But then Sophie is immediately all over him, and he stumbles back a step or two in surprise.
Oh.
Okay.
He lightly touches her mind, and... well. Turns out that faint restlessness was a pile of very dry tinder, and Sophie just tossed a match onto it. The result is a blazing mess of stress and sadness and anxiety that suddenly has an outlet, and he telekinetically slams the door shut and pushes her against it. Since she's not wasting any time, neither is he, sliding his hand down the front of her shorts.]
[Illyana has been at a consistent, low level of grumpiness since officially arriving in Etraya. Her stepping disks are out of commission, which is more than annoying, but she's also been cut off from Limbo, and that's... Well, it should be good. Great, even. She's spent most of her adult life trying to figure out ways to distance herself from it in one way or another, but being cut off completely is making her uncomfortable in ways she doesn't want to examine. And, considering she has no immediate, dangerous problems to throw herself into, she's desperately looking for other distractions.
Namely, annoying Quentin.
One upside - she doesn't just force open the door. Instead, she practically pounds on it. He knows it's her, so why announce herself?]
[Okay, real talk? Hand-to-his-chest honest no cap? Quentin is glad Magik is here. She's a valuable teammate, tough as hell (ha), and someone he trusts to watch his back without question. And after Keller saw fit to abandon him to protect this freakshow of newbies and overzealous idiots all by his lonesome? It's really, really nice to have someone like Illyana around.
But here's the thing: Illyana is weird. And not just like "well, duh, all of us are weird" weird. She's like... oddly chipper? And outgoing? But also withdrawn and crusty and broody and crap. It's a lot of conflicting shit. Also she seems to enjoy bullying him, but in a "picking on my charmingly irritating kid brother" way, and he can't quite tell if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. Maybe both.
... Probably both.
Anyway, she's banging on his fucking door for some goddamn reason, even though he's doing very important stuff, like, um. Stuff.]
Okay, okay, Jesus, I'm not deaf.
[He opens the door telekinetically, because he's busy. With what? Model-making, of course. Like the kind with little ships or Gundams. Exactly that kind, in fact. He put a robot on a sailboat is what I'm saying. It's very avant garde.
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She said the kitchen is off-limits to her, but how hard can it be to fry an egg and set it on some bread? Hard, apparently very hard, because while she is preoccupied with the offline game she has on her phone, the egg gradually starts to burn until the smell is so overpowering in the absence of any other strong scent that she finally notices.
Shit, fuck, shit fuck, fuck, shit. Fire off, but the smell... Does fanning make it worse? Shit.)
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In any case, it makes Sophie's panic nearly impossible to not hear, not when she's clearly one of the few people awake around here.]
/Please tell me the mansion's not on fire. I don't wanna get out of bed./
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His mindscape is nothing like hers. Hers is a penthouse, the rooftop similar to her room on Krakoa, and all the shit she has are as limited edition DVD sets, as TV show seasons and movies. The one room where she chooses to revisit her things is empty, aside from a TV, a couch, and that's about it. This is a lot.
Sophie hums a song as her fingers move through the titles, waiting until one of them gives her a hint of what she could ask Aurora for, until she freezes in spot. The book has her name, and she frowns, arms crossed as she stares at it.
Maybe... Yes? No? Maybe?)
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Anyone ever tell you you're very nosy?
[He hasn't kicked her out of his head yet, for who even knows what reason, but he's leaning against a shelf somewhere behind her with his arms crossed. How long has he been there, watching her? Long enough.]
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Hey. Got a second?
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/Depends. What's up?/
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We have a problem.
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/Of course there is. Shit's never easy. So? What's wrong now./
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The toll his powers had taken on his body — the lengths he'd pushed himself to with having to rely on his telekinetic abilities over his telepathic ones... he's drained in a way he hasn't been here on Etraya or for a hot minute now, but. He knows the signs — knows how it feels when both his body and mind are about to give out on him and he's glad he'd managed to take down the other telepath prior to all this.
There's a sort of loud WARNING. WARNING. WARNING. going off that he's about to burn out — that he's moments away from losing consciousness and, in doing so, possibly sending a jolt of telepathic fuckery through their connection that's likely to crash into Quentin. A shooting star falling from the sky and slamming straight into the Earth. That's how it's going to feel when it hits him. Everything within him aches, including his mind, and he just barely manages to grab hold of the thread they have for a connection as he tries to navigate back to the portal Aurora left for them. )
Think I'm about to crash. Might want to brace yourself for impact, bud.
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Quentin doesn't bother wasting too many words, since he's not sure how much longer Nate's gonna be able to talk. Besides, he needs the spare brainpower to prepare himself for whatever psychic explosion the guy is about to unleash. Psychic surge protector, yeah? Can't be that hard to figure out.]
/Consider my loins girded, thanks for the heads up. You got Summers?/
[Quentin can tell Nate's headed for the portal, so no need to arrange a meeting spot, which means the priority is Scott. Sure, it's unlikely that Nate would leave the kid behind, and he may not even be conscious long to answer, but... worth checking. Just to make sure. Nate's not used to having teammates, after all.]
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Right now, however, she's taking a bit of a break with her game in her hands, focus over 9000, which means she tosses, and she turns, and she gasps, and she growls, and she celebrates, and she accidentally disconnects the charger from the plug, and she reaches the final level — and she stares at the screen turning off when the battery depletes.)
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(Betrayal. Betrayal to the last degree. With disbelief slowing her down, she just sits up to stare at Quentin for a second before she can find words to convey the dumb shit she just did.)
... I. Just lost. Everything.
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Look, it's not like they spent a lot of time hanging out the first time she visited his room. It's perfectly reasonable for him to be a little bewildered when she showed up the second time without immediately jumping his bones. Even if she did. Later. But before that it was confusing! And then the same thing happened again. And now a third time. Thus establishing a pattern, wherein Sophie makes herself at home in his room for unknown reasons, sits around for approximately 1-2 hours playing her games, and eventually decides she'd very much like them to fuck each other senseless. Which... well, he doesn't understand why she chooses his room to game any more than he gets why she feels the need to wear his shirts, but he also can't say he has any complaints about the arrangement. She seems perfectly content to let him ignore her, and it's always right around the time—either coincidentally or by design—where he starts feeling a little claustrophobic that she switches gears. It's... nice, strangely enough.
It's 38 minutes into today's gaming session that apparently some kind of disaster strikes. Quentin looks up from his most recent bullshit boredom-delaying activity, which in this case is reading Les Misérables in full. Wait, what the hell is she talking about? She lost something?]
Huh?
[So helpful.]
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1/2
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cw nsfw
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I thought we were friends.
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/You thought correctly. What's with the question?/
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Anything to get that OFF OF HER, and then, back to her game, just listening idly... Until Quentin goes ahead and offers Jayce how to kick her out, and he's squinting at him for it.
Yyyyyeah, time to get off of bed. Her hair is braided, which still makes it a bit messy, and since he wasn't out or anything like that, it's her own loungewear. Miracles are real.)
... Quentin. Why, pray tell, are you teaching the flatscan our business again?
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Uh, it's called PR.
[Obviously.]
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( hi omega bestie. )
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[Sorry, Nate, you have to live with that shame forever.]
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@jaycetalis | text (timey-wimey date/time) âžž @kidomega
I'm putting together a contact sheet for those of us with abilities to be able to reach out to each other easier, since we're fairly spread out for this mission. Care to volunteer?
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to answer your question: duh. i told you, superheroing is what i do, and this world is like the slightly more boring version of mine. doesn't even have the savage land. damn shame.
wait hold on "those of us"? thought you were a no-powers loser?
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Hope and Julian are gone.
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Fortunately, he's got other, more important, shit to talk to Nate about. Certain rumors he's heard about guys with glowing eyes muttering ominous bullshit about "understanding" or showing people "a different perspective."]
/Gone or dead, yeah. I've done a half dozen psychic sweeps of the planet and got nothing. Well, nothing except some freaky psychic influence floating around the telepathic landscape. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?/
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nsfw. it is what it is
It was... Good. Most people don't come with an emotion switch button, but she does, and the longer it's off, the longer it takes for her to come back. For a day, she lets herself feel, get lost in a task as she thaws. It's been a lot, there are many worries floating in her mind, a lot of uncertainties, not to mention the less than pleasant trip in an evil lab she didn't sign up for. Videogames, sleep, sleep, sleep...
Second day, however? She's more herself, which means she knocks on Quentin's door. As soon as he gives an indication she can come in? A hurricane just smashes a kiss to his lips, arms around his neck — no stupid arguing foreplay, no talk, no hours of videogame and idle conversation while they're together and apart.
She's emotional, she's tired, she's stressed, she's a little traumatized, she's goddamn horny, she's missed him and his company a lot, deal with it.)
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Not that that's new. It's pretty much been the story of Quentin's whole life since his godforsaken x-gene woke up. Part of the joy of being a mutant. Everything that's happened in the past weeks—losing Julian, stupid cosmic anomaly bullshit, Sophie getting abducted and tortured—it all just sucks, but... Well, that's life. It is what it is. No use losing any sleep over it. Quentin just got this pink hair permanently, and he'd rather it not go gray, thanks.
He answers the door in person when Sophie knocks, mostly because despite his acceptance of the overall suckiness of literally everything, he can't help feeling a vague sense of restlessness. Physically getting up and opening the door is more effort than using TK or just telepathically indicating she can come in, and for whatever reason the extra steps feel... almost comforting, in a way. Normal? Ugh. Sure. But then Sophie is immediately all over him, and he stumbles back a step or two in surprise.
Oh.
Okay.
He lightly touches her mind, and... well. Turns out that faint restlessness was a pile of very dry tinder, and Sophie just tossed a match onto it. The result is a blazing mess of stress and sadness and anxiety that suddenly has an outlet, and he telekinetically slams the door shut and pushes her against it. Since she's not wasting any time, neither is he, sliding his hand down the front of her shorts.]
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Namely, annoying Quentin.
One upside - she doesn't just force open the door. Instead, she practically pounds on it. He knows it's her, so why announce herself?]
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But here's the thing: Illyana is weird. And not just like "well, duh, all of us are weird" weird. She's like... oddly chipper? And outgoing? But also withdrawn and crusty and broody and crap. It's a lot of conflicting shit. Also she seems to enjoy bullying him, but in a "picking on my charmingly irritating kid brother" way, and he can't quite tell if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. Maybe both.
... Probably both.
Anyway, she's banging on his fucking door for some goddamn reason, even though he's doing very important stuff, like, um. Stuff.]
Okay, okay, Jesus, I'm not deaf.
[He opens the door telekinetically, because he's busy. With what? Model-making, of course. Like the kind with little ships or Gundams. Exactly that kind, in fact. He put a robot on a sailboat is what I'm saying. It's very avant garde.
He does not look up.]
What'd'ya want? I'm busy.
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post event
telepathic image
(She's just trying something, a harmless revenge. Let's see if he picks it up.)