IRON IN VELVET.

#rohgue ━━ ROGUE OF MARVEL'S EARTH-616. INDIE AND PRIVATE. STUDY IN IDENTITY, WANTING, FOUND FAMILY, SELF-DETERMINATION, WELLS OF EMPATHY, AND WORKING IT OUT THE DIFFICULT WAY. by isa, 21+.

THE WALKING DEAD ⤷ @osuspiria.

This is just an old pastime. It's been a while since she used to come up here with a blanket, a book, sometimes a boy and hide away — well, not this rooftop, but the thought counts all the same. Fresh air, the last breaths of sunlight, and a bit more privacy than she can get behind shared walls. ❝ A lil' moonlight never hurt nobody. ❞ It's doable, now with Simon's powers and ... never mind. Her thoughts are all her own. And regardless of if they weren't, they're just quieter here.

CODE BLACK ⤷ @psyloche.

It’s nice seeing faces perk up at the sight of her, especially those here. Rogue only wishes it were out of pure fondness and not as much from the surprise of her presence as it is. Even now, it's with a modest chunk of laundry from her hamper at the Treehouse she hasn't had time to sort through or squeeze in between others' loads. Pretty obvious she ain't staying long, but she can stick around for lunch and however long it takes for her husband to find his way back to the lighthouse. Off who-knows-where the one morning she's just here to bum around. She couldn't write it more predictably herself if she tried, their luck.

Not that she would leave without seeing Remy either way — busy as she is, she's still human — but it gives her the excuse to sit and talk and not do much else, cup of coffee in her hands brewed special, in place of the tea already ready for serving. There'd still be plenty to catch up on after it all ran cold.

❝ It's a good lineup. Synch's a big help in the whole power-borrowing biz. Leaves a lot more brute force in my department, but, heh, that ain't a bad thing. ❞ It's been a month; somehow both a whole month and still only just one. Long enough to find a groove and still feel what she left behind for it. It's mostly the people, Rogue knows. There are no fewer friends on the new team but none quite as dear as on this one. Time zones and distance are one thing, schedules and longing are another. A hug ain't the same thing as an embrace, but Jubes don't need to hear about all that.

Rogue laughs shortly, mind piqued at an imagined insinuation. At this point, a day off wouldn't cut it. She couldn't leave it at that. ❝ I get days off. I'm off now, but all the time I get's just time I gotta, I dunno, ❞ a hand gestures off to who-knows-what, ❝ do laundry. You got these fools spoiled like dogs, Betts. Oughta start drafting 'em before their whole bodies atrophy. ❞ Her valiant mug shields her from Jubilee's protests, peripheral to Rogue's cheeky glance passed over the rim.

A flutter beats against her in response, more a heads-up than a request for permission anymore. She always was polite about it. It could have ended there and won her favor all the same, but instead, Rogue feels a phantom kiss, somehow hot against her pulse. It's all she can do to swallow the twitch in her face, a breath she does well enough to pass off for a yawn, and the sensation is gone too soon —- something gentle but that doesn't have to be. Maybe it's the poltergeist throwing a fit under her skin, pressing for its match all too late. Not even a proper taste and she considers how her overnight bag's barely served its purpose the last few weeks, how a lukewarm blanket just doesn't cut it, how her muscles ache for something to cling to.

— rogue's birthday bash ♡ ⤷ @redlands.

it's not a thing of practice to brace herself for a visit; it just happens. but besides the regular disappointment at certain life choices rogue's learned to roll her eyes at and move on from, it's been tame. almost suspiciously so, but she's nearly got it in her head to dismiss the feeling before ... the parting gift. before she forgets, mama says. right. rogue eyes the gift-wrapped parcel as its weight settles in her hands. ❝ what is it? ❞ in the back of her mind, she can hear brad pitt wailing, what's in the box? surely nothing of that caliber. it ain't even noon.