#roquish

The kids have been sent up after a whole day of activities disguised as training. Remy had fought for the day of frivolity, leaning heavy on the fact that most of the kids came from rough homes and one day of fun ain't going to kill any of them. He might have played a little dirty too, reminiscing loudly about past holidays and how they always seemed to fall short on the streets. It's not often that he dwells on his past, but he can't argue with the results as he watched the kids laugh as they decorated cookies and dodged faux snowballs.

The presents aren't much. Just little bits and bobs that made Remy think of them and clothes. Bought with mostly legit money. He stole the wrapping paper though, enjoying the challenge of shoplifting a gigantic tube of shiny paper. He'd steal wrapping paper any day of the week over actually using the damn thing, but he manages to not completely mangle his first few presents.

He wants to make this right.

symbol hc questions. | @roquish

the cannibalism.

she doesn't flinch when recalling the killings. she's not disturbed by how many women and men she's put in the dirt, whether they looked like her or not, and or how many more she might. but the rituals—those nights when the body wasn’t buried, but consumed—those linger. the act marked her as a true hyena, as it was necessary, in her tribe's militaristic worldview.

you consumed the dead to keep the spirits from returning to haunt you. cowards were devoured. traitors were devoured. fallen comrades, even if they were kin, were devoured. their spirits, their essence—taken in. it was tribal law.

it wasn't monstrous to her back then. it was a intimate aspect of her relation to nature. it was the ceremony that showcased her prowess and strengthened her identity. a rite that proved you belonged.

but now?

she survived in a world post-kidnapping. a world that doesn't speak that language, but a different means of war, in which she learned very well.

she doesn't consume human flesh anymore. she might make crude jokes—say she'll eat her partner alive, or swallow an enemy whole— but she doesn’t mean it. not anymore.

she lost her taste for meat altogether, especially as she gained new worldly experiences across the continent. she's seen poachers string up elephants for ivory. watched big cats get declawed, sedated, mounted in glass boxes, their populations under threat. she's seen the same cruel reverence turned toward black flesh. she was taught about it in the history books.

and maybe, just maybe, it has something to do with madam slay—her first love, long before klaue, the woman who communed with cheetahs like sisters and daughters of human flesh. because of her, she did work with armed anti-poaching collectives in africa.

so, she stepped out of the food chain.

Send 🍆  for my muse’s reaction to being sent a very intentional nude Or Send  “Ѡ” for my muse’s reaction to being sent accidental nudes. / @roquish

Alex has seen Rogue naked before, it was a rite of passage of any X-Men team to get naked and change into their uniforms in some shitty motel, bathroom or abandoned warehouse. Mutants had to make do when violence against them could happen within a second, so those moments of nudity were never anything sexually charged. Not as much as the team lounging together by the pool, that always ended up with a pair of two going off alone because the fact of the matter was the X-Men enjoyed sex, especially with one another.

So staring down at the picture Rogue sent, Alex's thoughts were far from innocent.

❛ ROGUE ! GET UP ! GRAB YOUR SHOES ! jean's taking us to see the mermaids again ! like actual , real life , shiny tailed mermaid ! ❜

@roquish // cont from here.

the  dreams  always  come  to  him  in  fits  and  starts;  while  he's  sleeping,  when  he's  drifting,  mid-way  through  pouring  his  coffee  in  the  morning.  in  tandem,  it  overflows  and  spills  with  hot  liquid  on  the  counter.  he  doesn't  notice  until  it's  too  late.  the  burn  wakes  him  from  his  stupor,  and  he  tries  his  best  to  cling  to  wisps  of  thought  as  he  scrambles  for  a  towel  -  always  coming  up  empty,  filling  his  journal  with  half-formed  thoughts.

all  that  lingers  is  the  dread  of  certainty.  all  he  can  offer  is  a  warning.

rogue  reacts  almost  exactly  the  way  he  thought  she  would.  more  used  to  his  powers  than  others,  she  presses  for  whatever  answer  he  can  provide;  he  can't  fault  her  for  wanting  details.  he  can't  thank  her  enough  for  not  asking  specifics.  guilt  weighs  him  down  enough  for  all  the  death  he  hasn't  been  able  to  prevent,  still  sick  with  the  thought  of  past  blind  spots.

we  ain't  exactly  been  drowning  in  good  prophecies,  she  says,  and  he  thinks  that  might  be  an  understatement.  (  don't  they  deserve  the  utopia  they  keep  being  promised?  don't  they  deserve  to  exist,  to  live  happily  at  all?  )

his  eyes  are  tired  when  he  glances  toward  the  empty  portal.  he's  free  to  come  and  go,  but  he  isn't  welcome.  he's  afraid  they'll  close  up  and  lock  the  others  away  forever.

"i  ...  i  wish  i  could  dream  of  something  good,  too.  for  what  it's  worth."  instead  there's  just  the  terror.  the  lump  in  his  throat  when  he  watches  a  group  of  students  running  by,  falling  over  in  fits  of  laughter.  he'd  give  anything  to  see  them  through  a  bright  future.

"whatever's  coming...  it's  big.  i  see  so  much,  rogue.  so  many  people.  things.  i...  i  can't  make  sense  of  it,"  he  finally  starts.  his  brows  draw  together  like  it  physically  hurts  to  explain  it.  "something  cuts  a  hole  through  me  while  i sleep."

it's  different  than  the  nothingness  he'd  felt  in  the  purge,  an  attack  on  all  sides  that  leaves  him  breathless  and  shaking.  "there's so  much  of  it.  can't  shake  this  feeling...  it's  like  waiting  for  the  sky  to  fall. if  that makes  any  sense."  he  knows  it  doesn't.  everything  is  jumbled  together  these  days.

@roquish wanted Rae :)

Rebecca has no idea how she got into this world. Everything is... younger than what she knows. It is the past, but not one she knows. Not the one of her actual parents. She figures that was how Rachel Grey felt when she landed in a past that wasn't her own.

The young woman did everything she could to steer clear of the X-People - especially the two who were her parents in her own world. So when she sees the telltale two toned hair, she wants to duck into a dark alley and avoid her altogether.

But she is no coward. She wonders what brings Rogue out into the city on this night. Is there trouble? Or is she looking for a relaxing night on the town?

Midafternoon, the sun high in the sky but not far from dipping into setting, and Logan feels like he’s been wasting the day away.

@roquish : short starter call !