1963-11-25 - Hopefully Not the Future
Summary: Hope tells Lorna about her being from a not so nice future
Related: None
Theme Song: None
hope illyana lorna 

Lorna entered the dorm, several bags on her arms as she returned from shopping for Hope. A grin on her features that was undimmed from the chaos of the last few days. Brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail and skirts of maroon swishing around her calves.

"Hope! I'm back!" She chirped, as if it wasn't obvious. She set her bags of various goodies down on her desk with care, glancing over her shoulder briefly.

"You'll never guess what kind of a mutant I met today, he was literally gold! And he could heal people, isn't that so totally cool?" She paused and a purse of her lips followed. "He wanted my number to try to meet my dad, how lame is that?"


Illyana sits cross legged on her bed, which isn't unusual— she seems to dislike sitting at a desk. A bit more weirdly (though at least it's normal, for her) is that a textbook is floating in front of her midair, held in place by invisible hands. Her ankles are folded under bare knees, the hem of her dress puddling between her legs, and she reads the book with a careful, studious intensity.

Bright blue eyes flicker towards Lorna when the mutant enters the suite, then back to her book, but that's her only acknowledgement of Lorna's arrival otherwise. After all, Lorna hasn't explicitly asked for her attention yet.


Hope is rarely in the room. It's like being here, being in a room at all, makes her incredibly uncomfortable. Or maybe that's just the whole 'dresses' thing. But the one thing she does seem to enjoy is the shower. When Lorna comes back, she sticks her head out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. "You met Josh?" she asks, glancing to Illyana. Oddly enough, that one doesn't seem to unsettle her. Much.


Lorna turned, glancing at Illyana and then back to Hope. "Wait, you know him? How does everyone know everyone I swear.." She folds her arms and pouts almost.

"But yeah, he kept going on about this Brotherhood? I dunno. It was very doom and gloom. Don't get me wrong, stuff.. is really bad, but geeze. I just I can't handle it all the time. You know?" She turned back to the bags and started to pull out various clothes.

"I bought you clothes Hope cause I know you don't really have much and all, I kinda guessed. If it doesn't fit I can return it." She pulled out some rather sensible shoes, and sweaters, a jacket.. and then the dreaded skirts. Of various colors and patterns.


Illyana looks to Hope when the woman emerges from the shower— despite her stoicism, she's at least not bothered by anyone's personal clothing habits. Illyana's strange relationship with clothing varies between 'clothing is for fools' and periodically rummaging through other people’s wardrobes after coveted pieces of clothing.

"Mutants seem to find one another," Illyana supplies helpfully to Lorna. "Could be common power all mutants share? Or all mutants tend to stumble into situations normal people would not bother with," she says, offering this advice with a slight shrug of one lean shoulder.


"Josh is, uh. Yeah," Hope says, nodding to Illyana. "I just sort of ran into him. He was upset about this President thing. Like everyone." Illyana might catch the look of dismay as Lorna pulls out all the clothes, though she's schooled it away by the time the other girl turns back around. "That's, uh. Thanks, Lorna."

Wrapping the towel a little tighter around herself, she moves over to get a look at the clothes, trying to find something that looks at least durable. And giving the skirts a suspicious look. "Doesn't anyone wear pants here?"


Lorna held up a thick wool skirt with a plaid design and scalloped edges. "I think this, and—" She searched, picking up a dark green sweater. "This will go well." She held it out to Hope with a grin.

"And we can do your hair and nails! You'll look lovely! I've got some nail polish in my desk." She turned and started to toddle around looking for it.

"Yeah Josh really wished he'd been there to heal the President, can you /imagine/ that kind of power?" She bit her lower lip, "I wish I had something that useful. I mean seriously, plop me in the woods and I'm useless." She muttered, glancing toward Illyana.

"Well that would make sense, I've run into a blue guy named Kurt, Josh, Kitty—who can go through walls, Jean, and well, all the mutants that were at the museum when I met my tata." She said 'tata' like papa, and she bit her lower lip.


"What are you going to do to my nails?" Hope looks like she's not sure if she should be terrified or just confused by the prospect. But the clothes. Those are another matter. She steps forward to set a hand to the skirt, feeling the fabric. "How do you fight in this? Or run? How cold does it get here? I think there's enough fabric here to make most of a lean-to in case there was a blizzard."

Hope's priorities are just a little bit skewed.


Lorna smiles and holds up a bag of various colors, "Nail polish. It's like paint for your nails?" She arched a brow, and jiggled the bag about before she came over to Hope.

"As far as the skirt? I mean.. well, hold it up to your thighs if you have to run? I mean it can get pretty cold in the winter, with the snow and what not." She shrugged.

"But c'mon try them on and lemme see you in it." She grinned.


"Why would you put paint on your nails?" There hasn't been a lot of call for manners in Hope's life. Most of the time she's spent around anyone other than Nathan was with soldiers of one stripe or another, and soldiers are not known for their ability to be charming. But she's trying.

So she takes a deep breath, takes the skirt and the sweater, and disappears into the bathroom. Where there's a little bit of thumping and rattling as she figures out how to get dressed with all that fabric involved.


Lorna giggled, her expression cheery and bright. "Because it looks pretty? I dunno. It's relaxing." A pause and Lorna moved to sit on the bed, folding her legs and smoothing a hand out over her own skirt. "How do the clothes look?" She called.

"Do you need any help?" She offered, her head tilting to the side as she unbound her hair and started to braid it idly.


"How are they supposed to look?" Hope comes out of the bathroom, with things more or less where they're meant to be. The skirt is a little bit crooked, the sweater tugged in an awkward direction, but either they fit, or she's already adjusted them so that they more or less fit. Making do with what she has, at least, is something she's familiar with.

The wet hair hanging down around her shoulders in tangles is a little bit less together.


Lorna giggled again, but quickly smothered it, standing up and moving over to straighten up the clothes on Hope's figure.

"Not so bad, and a little crooked but not bad!" She grinned, leaning back. "Now you won't stick out like a sore thumb. Also, I spoke with Professor Xavier on the phone, he mentioned that we can meet up at a cafe in Westchester and discuss what can be done for you." She arched a brow, propping her chin up with a hand.

"Also, I assume Miss Frost spoke to you too. Given that you're still here." She murmured, wrinkling her nose up at the sight of Hope's hair, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

"C'mon and sit, I'll brush out your hair and braid it. I can do a mean french braid."


Hope rubs the fabric of the skirt between her fingers, looking down at it. "I'm still not sure I understand why people don't wear pants," she notes, but at least she doesn't look like she's going to tear it all off. Yet. While Lorna is watching. "And yeah, I talked to her."

That gets a wrinkle of her nose. "Is she always mad at everyone? Or just people who get brought here by students? Because I kind of got the feeling she…I don't know. I don't know what she wanted, but it definitely wasn't me. What'd you tell her about me?"


A shrug and Lorna guided Hope to the seat, moving to pick up a brush to tackle the redhead's damp hair. "I wear pants for training, but my adoptive mother was very clear that ladies do not wear pants. And I dislike the feeling. But I have some pairs that should fit you if you /really/ want." She murmured, shrugging.

"As far as Miss Frost? Yeah she's kinda like that a lot. She's nice…ish. I mean she's just not good at being warm. She's really smart though and nothing phases her. She values control and everything being in its proper place. She's just worried about protecting her students too.." She winced briefly. "Especially now with everything going on in the news and the attacks on mutants."


The reminder of attacks on mutants sobers Hope, even as she sits on the floor in front of Lorna. Sprawls, really. Just how you're supposed to sit in a skirt is not something that anyone's ever explained to her. "It's too soon for that," she says quietly, frowning. "I mean, it's just…people aren't supposed to really be aware of mutants until later. Not as a whole. Not burning down whole parts of cities."

She lifts a hand, chewing a hangnail off the side of her thumb as she thinks about it. Her hair is a tangled mess - how often has she ever brushed it? - but at least she doesn't complain as it's brushed out. "What if my present's already different? What if I'm too late?"


Lorna tackled the hair with a gentle hand, one practiced to undoing snarls and knots. She hummed gently, trying to maintain her cheer despite the turn in the conversation. However, her brows furrowed as Hope spoke and she tilted her head to the side, frowning. "What do you mean, aren't supposed to be aware yet? Your's present?"

With careful fingers, Lorna set aside the brush, weaving her fingers through Hope's red hair and braiding it into a neat french braid. "Hope, you know it's okay if you don't.. if you can't answer me. Just say so, okay? I want you to know that.. I'm curious, like really curious, but if you feel pressured or anything.. like just let me know and I won't ask."


"You're gonna think I'm crazy." Hope shifts, drawing her knees up toward her chest, arms draped over them. "It's not the sort of thing that makes a whole lot of sense in this time. I get the feeling it doesn't make a whole lot of sense in my time either. Or any time, for that matter."

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she closes her eyes. "I was born in the future. After- after something happened to mutants. They went from being millions to under two hundred, like that. And no more were born. Until me. And when I was born, there were some people who thought I was some sort of antichrist, that I was going to do something awful, kill a whole bunch of people, bring on this terrible future. And then there was another group that thought- thinks, I guess - that I'm some sort of mutant messiah. That I'm going to fix mutants. Fix everything."

Her shoulders are tense, even more than usual. "The first group tried to kill me when I was born. They killed the whole town I was born in. But Nathan got to me first. The second group, they sent us into the future, so I could grow up safe. Except on of the first group had a time machine too. He followed us, hunting us. And he broke Nathan's chronal regulator. So for a long, long time, we could only go forward."

"And the future was bad."


Lorna dropped down to her knees beside Hope, listening with a sympathetic ear. As the tale continues and gets bleaker, Lorna slowly leans against the other girl and winds her arms around Hope's shoulders.

"Hey. It's okay. I don't think you're crazy." She whispered softly.

"I mean it does sound pretty out there, but like.. it's not much crazier than mutants ourselves existing right? Than aliens or myths and legends walking around? A few months ago I'd have said you're crazy and that'd be that.. but I believe you Hope." She murmured softly.

"You're safe here, promise. Miss Frost is a very strong telepath, she'll know the second anyone comes near the campus that might hurt you. Hurt us. It's okay."


"It doesn't matter if she knows he's coming," Hope shakes her head. "He won't stop until he kills me. And he doesn't care who he hurts in the process. He thinks-" She scrubs a hand over her face, turning back to Lorna. "Whatever he thinks I'm going to do, it killed his family. So the way he sees it, if he kills me? Then none of this is real. None of this ever happens. Or happened. He can kill whoever he wants, and it doesn't matter because they're not real. Everything will go back to his normal if I'm dead."

She pauses, brows furrowing at a thought. "Although…maybe not right now," she says slowly. "This is still his past. Sort of. If he does something to people here…then he doesn't know what happens to his family in the future. Right?"


A small shrug and Lorna settles her chin against Hope's shoulder, giving her a brief squeeze before drawing back. "I dunno Hope, I'm not an expert on that stuff. But we can ask Professor Xavier, he's got to know someone that's educated in time or whatever it is.." She makes a vague gesture with her hand.

"And wouldn't he already /be/ here if he could find you? I mean, if he had a time machine, couldn't he just appear whenever you were and that'd be the end of it?" She makes a face, "Sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about. Again. Time and space and whatever.. not my forte."


"Sort of. He's been doing it my whole life. Most of it, at least. But he has to figure out when and where we are. And I think maybe…" Hope catches the inside of her cheek between her teeth, brows furrowing in a frown. "I'm wondering if maybe Nathan did this on purpose. He kept following our timeslides. We thought maybe it was something to do with the tech. So maybe Nathan dropped me here to get some space between us. I just hope he doesn't get stuck again. The last time we got separated in a jump, it took him two years to get back to me."


A wince followed and Lorna shifted on the floor beside Hope, settling her legs beneath her. "If.. if it takes two years, you can stay here. If you need a place. Or if it takes longer, or shorter, whatever. I know Miss Frost won't kick you out. So you're safe here. For as long as you need it." She mumbled, dragging her fingers through her hair and she paused.

"Wait, how far into the future are you, like fifty, one hundred years? More?" She tilted her head to the side. "Do you remember?"


"My real time is-" Hope pauses. "What is it now, 1963? So about fifty years in the future. But I grew up…Well. Different times. We had to go a long way forward after the first couple jumps just to find a time where there was food and water." It's all she knows, so she says it like it makes sense.

"I have to get back to my time, though. I mean, there's something I have to do. I don't know what it is, I don't know how I'm supposed to do it, but people have been dying for me my whole life, Lorna. I have to make that mean something."


A frown marrs Lorna's features as she comes around to face Hope, her lips pursing together. "Fifty years?" Her brows shoot upwards and she sits back down onto her floor with a gust of a breath escaping her.

"Geeze." She winced, biting her lower lip. "Alright.. yeah.." She exhaled, dragging a hand through her loose braid and undoing it in her own hair. Brown dyed hair curled between her fingers and she twisted it around.

"Well, I'll try to help you where I can. Not sure what good I'll do.. but yeah. I'll try to help you Hope. Promise."


"Thanks, Lorna," Hope smiles wearily, smoothing a hand over the fabric of the skirt. "I mean that, you know. I've never…I've pretty much never…Sleeping in this bed? Under a roof, with a full stomach? Clothes I haven't been wearing for years? I've never had that. So thank you. I just hope it doesn't come back on you."


Lorna grinned sheepishly and turned around to grab the bag of nail polish off her desk and settle back down onto the floor. "Well you should have had those things anyways. It's a small thing to do, to help you when I can." She jiggled the bag and dumped out several bottles of bright and glittery colors.

"Now, pick your color. Or I'll choose." She wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

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