dxstiny:
@drkholmes
Her time in the dark was short this round. The time that passed between dying and being brought back to life couldn’t necessarily be called ‘waiting’— but after gaining consciousness again, it certainly felt like waiting. It was empty and endless and Irene was learning that it had a tendency to hit some sort of reset button in her brain.
She had her powers. Unlike last time, everything seemed to be working just as it should be. But there was practice and discipline that was now lost. It took effort to sort through the multiple paths of time, otherwise it was a tangled mess. Certain things were always going to be hazy, but now it all twisted together. It came in flashes, out of order, hard to discern. She was not in the mood to relearn, to teach herself yet again, but she had no choice.
But she wasn’t alone. And for that, she was grateful. Raven had already proved, more than once, that there was practically nothing she wouldn’t do for her. Irene loved her determination, her ruthlessness. The two of them were a force to be reckoned with, but they were also people. They deserved to rest, to just.. be.
Irene had been resting, flat on her back in their bed with her eyes closed. The closest thing to describe what she was feeling was a migraine, but it was more than that. Instead of light and sound it was the images inside her mind that caused the pressure. Sleep was good, but she needed to be awake to start straightening out the timelines and putting pieces back where they belonged. It was frustrating.
Suddenly she sat up with a heavy sigh. Pale eyes blinked down at the floor as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pressed her feet flat to the floor. It grounded her a bit. She stayed sitting, torn between wanting to pace and feeling frozen. Was she hungry? Thirsty? Tired? She couldn’t tell. Raven was in the room but Irene stayed silent.
What we have is immortal.
A century has passed since those words had first passed through Raven’s lips. She’s a woman who is as close as one can be to immortality without actually attaining the status. Her powers decelerate her aging. She’s not sure what her time limit is, but it’s certainly expanded far past others. Raven had sat with her beauty intact while the love of her life grew older every day. Irene was beautiful still, no matter how old she had become. Raven would have taken anyone to the gallows who implied otherwise. Even when soft lines cut through the folds of her face, Irene had been resplendent in the eyes of the mutant who had taken her as a wife.
What we have is immortal, and yet, Irene was not.
Gone. Irene was gone. She had known she was going to die and hadn’t told Raven when. She had advised her wife that one day, when the time came, there would be a nation to burn to the ground if they refused to bring her back to life. Raven knows now that Krakoa is that nation. She knows now that Irene saw the Dawn of X before Moira Mactaggert ever whispered the idea into the ear of Charles Xavier. It had come to pass as Irene had feared: they refused to resurrect a precog because Moira feared her. Moira feared Irene due to the promises she and Raven had made in a lifetime come and gone. Moira Mactaggert — the woman with ten lives — was terrified of Raven’s wife. What she should have feared is the utter ferocity that would fill Raven in her pursuit to have Irene returned to her.
It hadn’t been easy. In the end, it had taken lies and deceit. Raven had played dirty because that was the only way to win. She had earned having Irene back in her arms. She vowed never to let her go... right up until the day S.H.I.E.L.D. took her. In all honesty, Raven’s unsure as to how Irene didn’t see it coming. Had she? Had she and chosen to go along with it to further some ends? Raven fears that may be the truth but has yet to ask. There will be time when her wife is well to get the full truth.
What we have is immortal.
Yellow eyes stay trained on Irene as she rests. A recent council meeting has had Raven pulled away from their quarters, but she wasted no time after to return to her wife. She’ll sit akin to a sentry as long as she needs to until something changes. It’s hard to say if it’s been hours or minutes until that time comes. When Irene stirs, Raven moves to sit beside her.
“My love.” Raven knows that Irene’s silence is better than the shaking and sweating that had occurred last time she was resurrected. “What can I do for you?”
