ᵐᵘᵗᵃᶰᵗ ᵐᵒˢᶜʰᵉ

He was turning a deep blue-gray.

Sadness and disappointment.

Luna reached for his hand.

     “I’d love to, Grandfather.”

             Erik took her hand. There’s a belief in              his faith that you were not done after              becoming a parent, but instead when              you became a grandparent.

       ❝ so like—–anything with metal you can just, ❞ he gestures with his hands, trying to mimic the word he’s having difficulty remembering. he snaps his fingers as it clicks, ❝ control? ❞ there’s no particular reason he’s asking either. it’s just not often that he meets someone like him.

                  ❝ Pretty much any kind of metal, yes. ❞

“Always willing to hear someone out. Xavier may have found me and given me a home, but let’s hear your side of thing. Then give me back my trident.”

magda takes the retreat of his hand more personally than she should. reads too far into it’s meaning and finds fault where there is none. it reminds her of germany before the start of the war, the bitter ramifications of growing up in a society where you were forever untouchable, infected with some invisible curse that revoked your right to life and dignity.

there’s no mistaking the way her eyes widen, wounded and betrayed. he knows what he’s doing. knows how deeply those words are going to cut, carving lines into the soul he’d once pledged his heart to.. the moment passes however, the subtle tremble of a bare chapped lip steeling itself into an expression of hardened determination.

❝are you? because from where I’m standing I’m not so sure there’s a heart in there. ❞ it wasn’t what she’d meant when she’d called them both ghosts. she wasn’t against the pursuit of equality, she just wished he hadn’t sacrificed so much of who he was to do so. they were shades of their youth, hollowed out and world weary. as if all the joy had been sucked right out of them. but if he wants to politicise this, then so be it. she’d rather they fight than say nothing at all.

❝stop treating me as if I’m the enemy. I’m on your side. but elevating your people, shouldn’t mean trampling on mine.❞

         Erik’s fists clench. She looks so upset, he has seen her hurt before          he has seen her hurt many times, been the cause of it for more than          a few times. He pulls himself up a little bit straighter, he can already          feel his heart softening at the hurt in her eyes. He was weak to her. 

                           He loved her, yes. For years they had nothing but                             each other, built a life from the nothingness they                             had been forced to have. He should wrap his arms                            around her and apologize to her. To tell her that he                            did not mean it. 

            ❝ It’s still there, it’s just not as full of love as it was.                I’m full of anger now, but I’d rather be angry. I will                not suffer again. I will not let my people suffer again. ❞

                             He’s becoming more eloquent. It’s a process.                              The boy who had ran, the boy who survived                              taking the steps towards the leader he was                               just starting to become. If only it did not come                             at such a high price.

    “I’ve never heard of it before.”

man of steel starters / accepting / @magnctism

             Erik’s instinct is to push her away to yell at her.             To scream, like had done with the twins in the             past. Instead he takes a step from back from              her with a sigh. He needs to change. Erik              places a hand on the top of her green hair.

                                ❝You need practice. Leaders are not                                     made overnight, we are shaped                                    through time. You will get there.                                    Tonight is just not that night.❞

     it was easy to forgot how much of the world around him was METAL — hell, even the shield he carried was made of it. ( it was in their vehicles, their weapons, their blood. ) he eyed the man carefully, waiting. man, legend, symbol; surely, the one known as magneto was more than that too. “is this the part where i say hello?” 

                  Erik finally focused on the man with the shield.                    Something directly between disgust and distrust                   settled on the mutant’s face. It was incredible how                   someone’s mere existence could be propaganda                   filled. Erik should be diplomatic, it would probably                   be in both the best interests of his people and in                   himself.