@magnetiik​
Moira X played the long game. It went on for lifetimes; centuries that blurred into one another. Ten, so far. According to Destiny, she was nearing the end of her potential cycles. Was Moira afraid? She had died so many times that death didn’t scare her. The blazing void was intimidating, but Moira would face it as she had for the last ten lifetimes. Death, she knew, came with the absence of control. She had learned to love control over time; even in the background, pulling the strings, Moira found power.Â
That power was no longer enough.
Her anger at both Erik and Charles was righteous. She had worked intimately with both over her different spans, but it was Charles she had been close with during this life. Moira loved Charles, in her own way. She loved him as a man who would live, die and start again in an oblivious fog of fresh possibility. Erik, she saw differently. It was Erik’s armchair she was in, one leg crossed over the other. There had been precautions, of course, Moira was forbidden from moving across the Island freely.
“I worry for Charles, you know.” She poured two fingers of whiskey for the both of them. “Wearing that target on his head, as genius as it is. But that’s another topic altogether. Destiny.” Moira paused. “You promised me she’d be gone. You’d get rid of her. But she’s here. She’s breathing. She’s on the Council. Do you not understand the threat she poses?” Both to Krakoa and to Moira. Her vendetta against the mutant remained strong. One didn’t easily forget being burned alive, after all. Moira rose and moved to the window, staring out at the dusk covered Island.
“I’ve given this Island everything I have. My entire life. Will you not do everything in your power to protect it?”
