thisavrou | text | ❝ i left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time ❞

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text | ❝ i left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time ❞

So, space. The Final Frontier. Astonishing.

Also unexpected. I take it none of us signed up for this though so I won't bitch. Much.

Anyway, I have a series of questions not ranked by importance:

1. Where are the aliens? The gross tentacley ones from tv.
2. Are WE the aliens here? Gasp. The turn around.
3. Capri Sun? Tang? Tab? Any of these available?

This isn't a Soylent Green kinda place right? Lie to me if you have to. Thx.

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Logan? [He'll need a reminder on that one; MrDisgustingClaws would be more apt.

But then Peter also hesitates between messages upon reading that name.] ... Magnet Man I do remember.

[SKIRTING RIGHT ALONG...]

You need to watch more tv, Prof. And maybe party less?

Logan. Big, angry, bad hair. Claws.

[ The second half of that, as Peter changes subjects, is none of his business. He knows only what Jean's told him, and what a point of contention that had once been. He assumes--maybe incorrectly--that Peter knows (or will figure it out on his own, at least), and how he wants to interact with his father is his own business. Whatever Charles' opinion on the matter may be. It's strange to not say anything to Erik too, but...well, he's learned the hard way about revelations that are not his to give voice to. ]

So replace one for the other then? Sounds healthy.

Ohhh, the Gross Claws Guy. I remember him.

[Peter's going to have some interesting hoops to jump through here with his dad among their ranks and a not!sister to adjust to. It's all feeling a bit much so he's happy to put off as much as he can for the time being and play text-tag over the network.]

One of the two kills your liver a lot less than the other. Or so I've heard.

I think the ship may have sailed on saving my liver a long time ago, but I'm nevertheless touched at the concern.

I'm feeling kinda weird with this role reversal thing going on where I feel disappointed in your treatment of your liver and how I was just about to say something along the lines of "well lesson learned, huh?"

Can we like take a step back to non-weird bizzaro-land.

What's up Prof! (Like that. New starter.)

[ Thank god, yes, let's please stop talking about his drinking habits. Grand plan. Splendid, etc. ]

Very little, it seems.

[ Which is at least true. They have resorted to complaints about each other's habits, after all. ]

Did you just arrive?

Yeah. Bit of a jump but I'm still rolling with all of this.

Getting fast-tracked in how timelines and the multiverse work tho, that's definitely fun.

[ Well, that's one less explanation he has to try and navigate through. It's something. And, he recalls, it's less intriguing when the same thing is explained over and over. (He'll have enough to deal with on that front without Charles adding his own voice to it. So, instead, he'll let Peter fill in the gaps instead. ]

And how...do the timelines work? For you, I mean.

[ Namely: what do you remember? ]

Haven't confirmed much but I've got something majorly weird going on with my sister and there's a chick who I've been talking to about your mansion? Only she's like, years in the future.

For me it's just good ol' 1983, post-Cairo funtimes. Finally got off the crutches and life was nice? Then this happens.

[ Post-Cairo. So, yet again, it seems as if he's the one who's been left behind. He isn't sure if he prefers this, or if he'd like to just deal with whatever is on the horizon that he's only heard horrified hints about. Just get it over with. ]

Hold on, crutches? Peter, what happened?

Cairo happened?

A fascinating rendition of what must have been some spectacular accident.

[He pauses because - well, this is confusing. And he's not so sure if Charles is asking specifics on account of not having seen it first hand, or maybe there's some weird timeline at play again? It's weird and he doesn't want to bluntly ask. But his Tact Skill isn't exactly high either.]

Apocalypse did snap my leg pretty brutally, man. Can't say it felt spectacular but maybe it was cool to watch in a morbid, messed up kinda way.

[ He stares at this for a long time. Minutes, even. The residual horror of it makes him cringe and recoil, even if it's been years since he'd even had feeling in his legs to worry about in any sort of similar context. It's the sort of thing that makes him ill to consider and doubly so when...damn it, this is something he should have prevented too, isn't it?

(It must why no one will talk about it.) ]

I assure you that would have been in no way "cool to watch."

[ But for God's sake, what had he even been doing fighting Apocalypse to start with? WHY WAS NO ONE AT HOME? ]

What were you doing in Cairo?

[Woooooo, okay? Unexpected response prompts Peter to seek advice on how to handle this before proceeding.]

If I say sight-seeing, would you buy that for an answer?

Was this a field trip I don't remember planning?

[ I.E.: No, not really. ]

. . . Maybe?

And you think the foster system and/or trust fund parents are going to let me drag their kids out to Egypt on what, a whim?

I seem to fondly recall you taking me to the Pentagon when I was seventeen and not caring about parental permission then, Prof.

A lapse of reason I do not typically find it prudent to repeat.

Right? Okay, cool. Good talk, Professor!

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text | ❝ i left my body lying somewhere in the sands of time ❞

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SON

DAD?

U R DOING ME A FRIGHTEN

A FRIGHTEN, A STARTLE?

A SPOOK

NOT A SPOOK!

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