hunger

“No.” There was a harsh finality in his tone — though in reality it was more over his personal frustration. Part of him was grateful to have shaken the past, but another desperate part wanted to find it again ( and what power it would speak of — if his followers learned to read and write in his native tongue ). “There is no purpose to such a foolish thing.”

Sunfyre felt the tingling of magic in the air as her voice snapped sternly through the air. He wasn’t certain if it was done intentionally, or if the flare of emotions had let it loose, but all the same, it was an unspoken challenge. He stood quietly as he listened to her pretty speech, the irritating growing in him evident by the darkening of his gaze. Only once she’d stopped — only once they had stood staring at one another for several beats of silence did he dare do as she had. The fraction ( the inch ) of control he let slip was far more controlled, the rush of power making the temple beneath his feet groan ( the ground beneath them quaking ). There and gone in a flash, the God took a singular step toward her. “Then leave. Venture out of my realm and see how quickly your will shatters. While I entertain little acts of rebellion, others do not. Their subjects are born with a noose at their throats — they do not so much as dare a breath without the approval of their God. And you? They would make great sport of breaking you.” 

Dragging his icy gaze from her, Sunfyre waved a hand almost dismissively. “There are not words in your language to accurately translate. Sunfyre was not so horrible.”

Her attention was drawn by the tone of his voice. It was unnecessarily course for what she had asked, even given his proclivity towards threatening illusions. He couldn’t teach her. She had no doubt about that, but she did not know why. It was a question for another time, though. Something she would need to work towards as there was no inclination to give it up- not something as interesting and divinely unique as this. Sidra rolled the parchment back up just as carefully as she’d undone it and set it back on the shelf. 

It took genuine effort to maintain her composure as the ground shook and rattled under her feet, but Sidra’s face remained as determined as before. She turned on her heel and began to walk in the direct that they had come, backtracking each step. “Then I die there instead of here. As I said, it makes no difference to me. I do not frighten easily, and I certainly do not break.” Her voice was resolute, unyielding in what she said. Her home life had not been easy. While she loved her father, and he adored her, he had unreasonable expectations in who she was to be and how she would benefit his search for power. There were things that Sidra had done that she would never speak of in the dark of night. Thigns so horrible that she could be considered a monster just as easily as the God with her. Yet, she did not break from it or let it turn her. Resilience had been learned the hard way. Then again, when wasn’t it? “You lose far more by me leaving than I do.” 

Teeth bared at her. Sunfyre knew full well her comment was nothing but sarcastic, but he had long ago forgotten the strokes of each letter that dusted the parchment in her possession. The thought of losing something he’d been struggling to once again grasp was endlessly frustrating. “You will never be able to read it.” Spine ramrod straight, he watched her careful perusal of the script. “It is not a tongue of this world. It is mine.” 

An eyebrow arched and after a moment, his arms spread wide — gesturing around them. “Yes.” He retorted, the word snapped in attempt to leave no room for argument. “You are. Everything within the domain my power protects is mine. The moment you begin to doubt such a fact is the moment something else will try to creep in and threaten that. It has happened before and I assure you, little priestess, they will not be gentle.” He’d once watched former subjects minds and bodies shattered — long ago when he’d been foolish enough to let his grip on his reign loosen even the slightest. Sunfyre had done well to ensure it had never happened again.

He wasn’t even sure the word could be spoken in her tongue. He had only ever dared think of his own name — never had he attempted to speak it aloud in the language familiar to the fae. And without knowing why, he decided to indulge her. It took several beats for his mind to properly wrap around the word and to translate it into something familiar. “Sol.” 

One of the symbols on the page caught her attention and she trailed her finger up to it. It dipped and curved in a irregular radial shape. It almost looked like a star to her. If that’s what it translated to, apparently, she would never be able know. It was still lovely all the same. “Can you not teach me how?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. 

“No.” Sidra repeated, forcefully again. The essence of her power electrifying the air around her through no control of her own. “I am mine. You may need the rest to believe so that you may protect them and I am happy to let them believe that too, but I do not. I am not easily swayed to the opinions or desires of others. There is no room for others to threaten your control or to corrupt me as I will never belong to anyone. And it does not matter if they are not gentle, because I myself am no gentle creature.” Without blinking or balking or even considering the potential stupidity of what she was doing, Sidra continued. “Burn me, break me, throw me off a cliff, it does not matter. I will not bend on this.”

A shoulder rose into a shrug at her question. In truth, Sunfyre had never particularly cared who said guide was. So long as they trusted in him completely ( so long as they wanted nothing more than to please him ) then he didn’t particularly care. “You will prove, with time, whether you are a suitable guide. And should you prove to be as destructive…” He had no problem eliminating her if she became more trouble then she was worth. Swinging his gazed over to her, his brows scrunched together. “Be careful with that.” He growled —  eyeing her sharply as her fingers held the scroll between delicate fingers. Years ago he’d written what he could remember of his native tongue, but even now, recalling what it meant seemed to be difficult. 

Swirling orbs watched her curiously as lips curled into a smirk. Permission was not a word he was familiar with — the God had always simply done as he’d pleased. “I do not follow the customs of your species. You are mine.” He murmured. 

He’d had Priests and Priestesses, ask endless questions, but his name was not one of them. Head inclining slightly, he stepped away from her. “That is what you call me.” An early act of power and they’d branded him with a name. The only reason he still recalled his own was because it was the singular part of his identity he refused to shake.

Sidra wondered how that threat might end. Should she prove to be destructive, he would what? Of course it implied killing her, but he should know that she had no fear of it. So what was worse than death? She let out an exasperated sigh. “I suppose my plan to toss it in the nearest fire has been foiled.” She said and unrolled it gingerly. The language written was not one she recognized. “What is this?” She asked, her fingers tracing the unrecognizable lettering. “What language is this?”

Her eyes hardened somewhat as she looked at him. “No.” She said simply, forcefully. Although it may be unwise to do so, Sidra had no intention of allowing this point to go without correction. “I am no one’s. I am mine. Mine alone. Even now.”

Part of him was grateful when she stepped in front of him and began to wander through the temple before him. The Sunfyre had never had a problem leading ( it was almost as if it had been his destiny since the beginning ) but he always preferred to know his opponent before he stepped into battle. And while they may not physically fight one another, the woman before him was a mystery and the first in a long while that had dared challenge him verbally. The sounds of her skirts hissing against the polished stone hid whatever noise might escape his steps — the God following close behind her as she moved. “For a time, perhaps, they would be capable of self government. But your species is a destructive one by nature. Without a hand at the small of their back offering guidance, they would soon be overshadowed with doubt and turn on one another.” And while he often thrived in chaos, it was only at his own guidance of his people that he ever wished it. All other times were mere inconveniences. 

Though he had caught her question, the slight sound that she emitted snagged his attention immediately. Cocking his head slightly in a purely animalistic manner, the God eyed her curiously. The silence stretched for several long beats before he moved once more. Fingers rose to snag a loose strand of hair and brought it to his nose ( taking in her scent — memorizing it ) before releasing his singular connection to her once more. “I have no doubt you will figure it out.”

Tearing his gaze from her to instead take in the contents of the room once more, his head inclined slightly. “You may ask, though whether or not I choose to answer is a different story.”

“Hmmm.” The hum escaped her lips as she considered what he said. It dawned on her that she would need to be more cautious in what she said than before. If his constant radiation were not enough to remind her of their vast differences, then certainly the sparing reminder than he was eons old would have certainly do the trick. “And you would have me be said guide?” It was more of a statement than a question. “How are you to know that I am any less destructive than the rest of my species?” Sidra inquired while meticulously pulling out a roll of parchment that already looked as though one strong gust of wind would take the whole thing away as dust. 

Sidra cursed herself the moment she let that air escape. He pounced like a wild animal on the reaction. She wondered vaguely what he thought about it, but kept remarkably still as he reached his hand out towards her slowly. A part of her was concerned that he would singe her hair with his fingers. Would she figure it out? His will? This didn’t particularly seem like the activity she wanted to resort to guesswork on. She inhaled and closed her eyes for only a moment to settle her nerves again. When she opened her eyes again, her face was resolute. “It is customary to ask for permission before touching another.” 

She was undoubtedly a cheeky and daring thing to speak so boldly, and if she were to bother ask, that would be the reason he found his gaze dragging back over to her ( the desire to rid of her like he might anyone else who tread such a path nonexistent ). “Perhaps if you’re devote in your prayer, he will.”

Others had simply crumpled beneath his will and words— the fear of their existence being snuffed out and all but erased from history as insignificant enough of a motivator, but it seemed this woman had no such qualms. Tucking away the information that she felt herself uneasily removed, the God couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “My followers do not need guidance in their worship. They are more than competent in their knowledge of pleasing me, but you are the one most privy to my will.” Sunfyre had little patience or care to appear before each of his followers and listen to each prayer ( the words instead brought to him on the wind ) and the purpose of his Priestess was to appease the crowd ( and control the beast that was their God ). Drawing his gaze back to her, his lips tugged into a grin. “Solitude from the world perhaps, but you’re stuck with me, Priestess.”

Sidra let the comment hang in the air with nothing but a knowing look shared between the two. Her mouth curved upward as she began to walk in front of him- now exploring rather than following. As a child, her mother told her that her curiosity and stubbornness would be the death of her. Perhaps it would be, but she did not see that as a reason to stop. Her father had taught her that fear was fickle. The more you understood it, the less you were afraid. In being unafraid, there was freedom. She spotted a room filled with very old looking scrolls and ceased all facades of the tour to go inside. “If they are competent, then I will not need them to help me. They will be more than happy in doing what they know you want.” Her fingers glided lightly over the parchment. She had not read anything new in such a long time. Written word like this was even more scarce than precious gems. “And what is your will?” She said suddenly turning back to face him. He had snuck up closer than anticipated. Sidra let out an ever so small gasp of surprise. The first inclination that she was on her toes since setting foot on the marble tiles of the temple. 

He knew quite well the words that were spread of him. His followers did well by ensuring that trust and faith were ingrained into the minds of those beneath his powers reach from an early age ( and in turn, such loyalty was rewarded greatly ). But the God couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the idea that the young fae before him felt she knew all. “How rash,” He chuckled, “to believe that I have not tracked down and razed clean the world of words I wished not spoken.” There were cards he kept close — for while the fae were beneath him, there were other great beings who wandered the world and claimed power that might rival his own. And he would be no God if he were not capable of protecting that which he deemed his. “Admittedly, you are the most interesting fae I’ve met in quite some years. Let us hope such interest does not teeter into annoyance.”

There she went again — making demands of him. Swirling orbs observed her ( the briefest flicker of emotion dancing through them ) before he moved into the elaborate temple. “You will utilize your underlings.” That was something he would not be negotiating on. There was a careful working of things, delicate layers to his worship. “Send them to do menial tasks, but should you choose to ignore them, you will not last. I won’t be required to even lift a finger — they would rid of you themselves and replace you with a Priestess who acknowledges their dedication and allows them the privilege to assist in pleasing their God.”

Sidra followed behind him as they entered into the temple. Her eyes were observing everything that they passed and making mental notes of what she would need to come back and look more closely at in private. “I have no doubt that you are capable of just that if not more- which is why you’ll find I said that I know quite well what you’re capable of, not everything you’re capable of.” A smile happily rested on her lips. Her laugh lilted at his statement. She would not let him intimidate her. No matter how thinly veiled the threats. “Then I shall have to pray to my God that you continue to have good taste and a suitable humor.” 

She was an unquestionably daring thing — to speak so boldly without a lick of fear. Sol had lived so many years that he’d lost count, but he couldn’t recall the last time someone had truly surprised him. Any being of lesser power seemed to fall into a cycle ( different faces with slightly different scenarios ) — and yet here she was throwing in wrench into what he found familiar. Part of him flared with irritation that she dared make a demand of him ( a God ) and yet his interest far outweighed that. 

Several long beats of silence passed before he turned and slowly moved up the steps. Holding her gaze in his ascent, Sunfyre came to stop within her personal space ( a hairs breadth between them ). “I would not know?” He asked, an eyebrow cocking in amusement. “You know not what I am capable of.” Eyes raked down what of her was visible before stepping around her ( arm brushing against hers in the process ). “The chambers of the last Priestess has been empty for quite some time. The state in which she left things is unknown, but you’re allowed to organize things as you please. Should you require something, one of your underlings will fetch it.” 

“On the contrary,” Sidra retorted. His gaze was so very intense that she feared his stare alone may very well burn a hole into her. “I have learned about you since I was an infant. You’re spoken of at every worship. There are festivals held in your honor. You history is entwined with ours, and it’s been taught to me. I know quite well what you’re capable of Sunfyre.” Her voice was an even keel although her insides were buzzing with electricity or nerves. “It’s you who do not know what I am capable of.” She smiled slowly. Her dark eyes alight with the promise of a challenge. As his skin grazed hers, she felt a striking and unexpected heat that drew the entirety of her attention. 

It brought her back down into reality for a moment. A stark reminder of just how different he was than she. She looked back up at him a bit inquisitively. There was still a lot to learn. “If you would be so kind as to lead the way,” Sidra waited for him to begin moving again. “Thank you, but I prefer to do things myself. No underlings will be needed generally. Although, you are more than welcome to help me if you are so inclined.”

He couldn’t help but contemplate her question for a moment — because while entirely legitimate in nature, it wasn’t one any had bothered to ask him before. Those who had come before her had presented with some sort of fear ( perhaps rightfully ) and yet it wasn’t a scent he could easily pick up from her. Unlike her predecessors, she seemed far more resilient. How interesting, he thought. 

Dragging his gaze from her to instead look upon the world before him, the Sunfyre’s predatory smirk remained stretched across his features ( a flare of interest flickering across typically masked features ). Just as he’d begun to complain about the repetitiveness this life had become, the world seemed to have answered him with this wisp of a woman. But such hopes were easily shattered ( they have been before ). “Tell me the purpose of your approach, little fae.” He murmured. “State your intentions clearly, and should you lie I will know. Should you lie, I recommend running now, I’ll even be kind enough to give you a head start. I quite like a good chase.”

There was an animalistic quality to his demeanor. That hadn’t been expected. Then again, she suspected there would be plenty of things she could not expect in this scenario. “I am your high priestess now.” Sidra said and turned away from him to continue her way into the opulent temple that had been built here. “You may call me Sidra.” She said in a manner which obviously meant- you will call me that. She spoke over her shoulder to him as she continued her gait. 

“If I have no intention of cowering, you could have assumed that I have no intention of running away either.” She had never seen a place like this before. While her village was not poor, it was not lavish. Her father had perhaps been one of the most wealthy men to live there and even their home appeared a rural shack in comparison. “Nor do I intend to lie. It does little to benefit me in this situation.” Her nearly black eyes locked onto his glowing ones. “And if I decided that it did benefit me, you would not know.” She motioned her hand in front of her. “Now are you going to follow or not? I thought you liked a chase, and I need to know where everything is located.”

It had seemed as of late, the color in the world he’d initially been so taken by had faded  — as if there had begun to be a redundancy in life he couldn’t shake. The fae were becoming almost painfully predictable and it was only the swing of his will that seemed to spice things up. Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps, orbs that seemed to hold the nebula’s of galaxies within them observed the womans approach, sharp features pulling into a grin many might deem predatory.  “Quite the bold young thing you are, approaching me with such a lack of fear.” He murmured. “You either have a wish for your own death, or belief that as the God of this area I would not dare you harm if your intentions prove favorable.”

@mabwriting​

The night felt other in some way. As though Sidra had left the home of her father to take her position as priestess for their village had shifted not only her title, but the ground she walked on. Her footsteps were confident in their stride as she was met with marble stairs. These priestesses were more like sacrifices in her eyes. They never lasted very long, and that was the story in every direction. The Gods attention span was almost as short as their tempers. There were those beginning to realize the injustice of their favor, but they were all silenced. Sidra knew that it was widely believed, but none would say it out loud lest the Gods curse them or worse, their daughter be chosen as a priestess. Yet, her father insisted that it was an honor she was chosen. It would remain to be seen.

Sunfyre, or so he was called, was certainly as other as she’d felt earlier. His eyes burned and there it was almost difficult for her eyes to take him in entirely, as though a divinity radiated from him. “Have I any reason to be frightened?” She responded, her eyes unflinching as she remained looked at him. “Should you want to kill me, there is no way to stop you. I would prefer to not cower for the rest of my life- however long or short it may be.”

OPEN

Verse ; Valyria (prior to the Doom)

With one last glance over her shoulder, the Valyrian woman ducked into the vines and disappeared from sight. She could attempt being discreet as much as she liked, but the pale scaled beast flying overhead and keeping an eye on her from the skies was a clear sign that the dragon rider was once again attempting to sneak away from home. She undoubtedly would have gotten further ( and gone uncontested ) had she ridden the dragon, but there was something satisfying about slipping from the manor without making a scene that left her exhilarated - particularly when she realized that such a thing would only last for so much longer. She’d reached an appropriate age to marry, and whether it be within the family to keep their bloodlines clean or someone else to secure an alliance had yet to be determined ( but it was only a matter of time ).

By the time Persephone arrived at her location - an abandon and private piece of shoreline she’d discovered weeks ago, she was a touch surprised to find someone there. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she eventually blew out a puff of hair ( attempting to rid of the stray hairs in her face ). “I thought I was the only one who knew of this place.”

Lunaerys ran a hand down the iridescent scales of her dragon. The sun made them shift between a violet and cerulean hue. They needed a moment of silence. Her sisters had driven her mad that morning. Their incessant bickering still echoed in her ears. It was as if they could think of nothing but fashion and suitors and inane gossip. Lunaerys could take no more, and so she’d taken Starfyre and looked for anywhere that her sisters could not reach. 

The water lapped up on her dragons talons. Starfyre had always loved the water. It was something the two shared. Though, there was much they shared. The bond between dragon and rider was exceptionally strong in this case. Lunaerys’s father said that the egg hatched in her crib and would not depart her side for anything. She pressed her forehead to the neck of the creature for only a moment before the sound of a woman’s voice surprised her.

She turned sharply, half expecting it to be one of her sisters. “I only found it this morning. Forgive me if I am intruding. It was not my intention. I merely needed some quiet.”

@mabwriting​ / TYA

The gathering in Dorne was unnecessary - at least that was what Abraxas felt. Separate Kingdoms trying to play nice? They might have moved away from the Capital but the shedding of blood would not end there. They might have killed a man for the chaos he had caused, but the Blackwood Lord turned Hand of the Trident King did not believe it would be the end. It was likely the cause of the bags beneath his eyes ( and the reason his smile appeared a touch too strained ). Thankfully, people were brushing it off with excuses ( the stressing of becoming the hand of a King so unexpectedly and the long journey ).

Having escaped a treaterous conversation of a Lord attempting to all but sell his daughter off to Abraxas as a wife, he shed his shoes, rolled up his pants and waded into one of the pools of the gardens with a huff. “Heat is quite a insufferable thing. Cold you can at least chase away, but heat?” 

The saccharine smile that Tya let drip from her mouth hid month of overwork and exhaustion. Every moment she had was dedicated to finding more information, scouring the libraries for context, decoding messages, searching desperately for what she missed last time that cause so much pain and sorrow. Yet, no one could know how it affected her. No one could see her weakness. No one would. She was so carefully practiced in her facades that they were nearly flawless. They were certainly working on the two lords fawning over her in this moment. Whether they were seeking her hand or attempting to grow closer to the king through her, she was not certain. Either way, they bored her. Yet she politely curtsied to them. “Forgive me, my lords. I fear I must take my leave. The pools are calling my name and it would appear that Lord Tully seeks a word with you.” She said and gestured to the redheaded oaf behind the men. The moment they turned to look, Tya fled to the sanctity of the water. 

May the Mother grant her a moment of peace and quiet. Tya lifted her skirts carefully and waded into the pool of water just enough to wet her feet to the ankles. The sound of another man’s voice reached her ears, and she sighed. The polite veneer instantly slid back into place, but she feared her eyes revealed how tired she truly was in that moment she looked at him. Lord Blackwood had caught her interest in King’s Landing, and the stories of him had far proceeded their introduction. It would be unwise for her to falter in his presence. “Usually, I quite like a nice, hot day, but I must admit that this heat is difficult to endure. I have been told the traditional Dornish dress makes the temperature far more tolerable.”

Azriel had hoped that his stealth would allow him to pass her by without notice - to continue on his trek of the Watergardens and to return to his employer without issue. But then - perhaps he had slipped purposefully ( caught off guard and unprepared to see the woman before him ). A small part of him wished for his pace to increase when his named left her lips ( a flight instinct he had never had before ). But instead a heavy sigh passed his lips, he continued into the dark shadows away from the bustling crowd of the gardens and stood in wait. They’d left one another on poor terms and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to either of them.

“Lady Dalt.” He muttered in greeting. “Was there something you needed?” It was all to formal - each word making him want to choke on his own tongue. Hazel orbs averted - instead finding interest in the crowd around them as a scowl settled over his features. 

It would have been impossible not to notice him. It was as if the moment he was near, that darkness that followed him had a hand on her. It pulled her towards him despite every instinct in her telling her to let it be. He is the one who left. After everything, he left. She never once hesitated to follow him into the shadows. 

The terse, formal greeting threw her for a moment. Azriel had never even used her family name before. It felt wrong to hear it on his lips in such a manner. “Azriel, I-” All of this felt wrong, but she couldn’t say it. She could barely say anything. “I- I- I just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to ask how you are. To see if you- nevermind.” She swallowed. Her eyes traveled over his face. Each feature was crafted into anger. “But perhaps I shouldn’t have... I’m sorry.” Ashara said quickly, forcing herself to turn around, begging herself to take a step away.

@mabwriting​ / ASHARA 

He hadn’t slept well in months. It didn’t matter how frequently he fought or fucked his way toward exhaustion - Azriel was simply restless. And the worst part was, he knew what it was but was too stubborn to fix the problem. For the first time in forever, he was separated from his girls. Like anyone else needing their fix, he was going through a withdrawal and it showed. When the Tyrell’s had mentioned traveling to Dorne, he’d agreed even though it likely would lead to chaos… because there was a chance he’d run into them again.

Moving among the Watergardens, his gaze flickered among others present - looking but not finding any real satisfaction until they settled upon a familiar set of locks. She looked how he felt. Worn down and a touch broken, and despite the anger and despair he’d felt in his heart, her appearance also seemed to spark a flame of worry. Tearing his gaze from her form, he grunted, knowing better then to approach her.

Ashara was tired. That was perhaps the most simple way to put it. The months since everyone had gone their separate had not been kind to her. Between not sleeping, rising early to work, working too hard, and doing all in her power to avoid her new fiance, Ashara had slowly withered away. The last time she’d caught her own reflection, it had shocked her to see how thin and pallid she had become. It shocked her even more to know that no one around her had said anything about it. Who had she surrounded herself with?

At least the Watergardens felt more like home. The heat from the Dornish sun had welcomed her back with open arms. She sat with her feet dipped into the water when her eyes caught a familiar shadow passing behind her. Her head whipped around to be sure that she’d seen correctly. Quickly, she pulled her feet from the water and stood to follow him. “Azriel?”

Now that he had yet another beer in his hand, Peter gave Mj his full attention. “Honestly. You did great. I made it in for the second half of the set. It was the soonest I could get off of work.” It was frightening, how easily the lies came now. Being so busy had its perks, it seemed: he’d always have one excuse or another. Peter had decided to stick with the lie Mj had already chosen for him. “It’s not really him, exactly. I mean, I work. A lot. But between him, school, F.E.A.S.T and everything else…” A heavy exhale followed, and Peter took another long swig of his beer, then pointed at her and gave her an expression that read ‘Bingo!’. “That’s because half the time I only get two hours of sleep.” It was a bit of an exaggerations, but some nights the crime was so busy that he could’ve sworn there was more coffee in his veins than blood.

“You know that you’re in college and not forty, right?” She asked with a raised brow. “There’s no reason for you to be working that much. Take some time off. Have a laugh. Have some fun.” She put her hand over the top of his cup and pushed it back down. “With maybe not getting too drunk, because if you throw up all over your place then you will definitely have more work cleaning it up. Because you know I’m not going to do it. Harry certainly won’t either.” She laughed, but genuinely, she was a bit worried. Mj was known for burning the candle at both ends. She made adequate grades, ran the band, managed the band, promoted the band, and did a few plays when she had the time. Peter was something else though. “You wanna take a walk or something?”

While she spoke, Peter smoked and ate. He ate slower than usual, wanting to avoid claiming one too many slices to himself and leaving nothing for the girls. Any given day, he could easily clear a large pizza to himself. “Vegas, huh. Cool!” Peter’s mind, naturally, went to the plethora of casinos and hotels stationed in the city, along with the myriad of shows. So it kinda was like New York, in a way. He nodded in acknowledgement, but his jaw nearly dropped when she mentioned the Bugle. He scoffed. “The Bugle?” He couldn’t help the smile on his face. “So… I was a photographer for the Daily Bugle for a bit… Brace yourself, Jameson’s… well, let’s just say he’s an interesting man.”

Gwen felt like shit for lying. She’d never liked to do it Honesty was important to her, but it was hard not to tell a few lies, or even creative truths, when you had a secret as big as hers, nor when you had a life as weird as hers. She decided to just drop the conversation altogether. Maybe it wouldn’t come up again. “Oh, I’m used to J.” She laughed. In her world, J. Jonah Jameson was on a constant crusade against Spider-Woman for killing Peter Parker. He even managed to get her father fired for a little while. “He loves me though which is lucky for me. Otherwise, I’d never do anything but coffee runs, but I had to write him an article as a filler when one of his reporters got mixed up with that Tarantula guy. He thought it and I quote ‘wasn’t terrible’. High praise. So I’ve been his go-to intern ever since.” She shook her head. “Why’d you give up photography?”

Not one of his uniformed soldiers. The phrase repeated in his head, and Peter raised his eyebrows. So she wasn’t a mutant? What she’d said led him to assume that, at the very least. Until he continued to speak, and he gave a single nod. “And you’re looking forward to him rooting around in your brain?” Peter gave it a thought, and nearly shuddered. No thanks, he’d rather keep his thoughts to himself, thanks. “I know he’s done a lot of good for… gifted people.” He lowered his voice, not wanting any attention drawn to them unnecessarily. 

Rogue laughed. It was mirthless. It was a hollow laugh. “Does anyone look forward to havin’ their heads poked around in? Ah didn’t even like therapy. Ah doubt Ah’ll be a fan of this, but it’s necessary.” Afterall, only one person could fit inside someone’s head at once, and right now Rogue had one too many up there. She scoffed at his phrase. “Gifted. That’s bullshit. We’re mutants. There’s nothin’ to be ashamed of in sayin’ it.”

“There won’t be a next time.” 

“You said there wouldn’t be a first time, but there was. You said it would go away, but it didn’t. Why do you lie to me Rabbit? I thought you didn’t lie to me.”