1965-10-10 - Forces of Nature
Summary: A conversation in the dark, about anger.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
halgrim wither 

Wither was brought back to his hidey hole. His art was absent though. Where he put it who knows but it was entirely taken down. He was healing with just balm and no fancy mutant healers. He asked to go back to his little subway tunnel that Fjorskar helped him with looking around at the pile of scrap and the now vacant space. Honestly the cool and the damp just felt better on the burns.

A soft huffing cough precedes Fjorskar as she comes ambling down the tunnel passage. It almost sounds like she's trying to clear her throat. She favors one forearm, where a palm-sized burn sits just above the protection of her scales, and there's evidence of another at the seams of her scales on her side. At least she's apparently had time to bathe; the acrid smell of smoke is gone from her fur and feathers, and she's no longer covered in ash. She sniffs loudly, trying to determine Kevin's status without getting too close, and immediately begins poking around, trying to determine the fate of the now-missing art she'd seen previously, when she found the note.

Green eyes shifted to the noise that was different from the distant and constant shuuush of water from the other side of the steel door. Short breaths while lungs were still clearning out lingering smoke inhilation offering quietly, "Doug said it was a good hideout if it wasn't for the noticable parts so… Ah took em down. Ah moved em fer now." He was a little disappointed but was apparently willing to trust the judgement of this Doug fellow. He examined his… ally? They had a truce. It'd work. "You doin alright?" She wasn't alright. They were all in a fire and were smarting a bit for it. That wasn't 'alright', doesn't mean she wasn't handling it though. The concern was genuine.

Fjorskar grunts in reluctant agreement; she knows too well what happens when your den is found. (Oh, does she.) She narrows her eyes at the mention of 'Doug', trying to place the name among the other nonsense names humans use, and is unable to. She looks down at her side, then at her arm. "They will heal," she says. Even her voice sounds more gravely than it has previously. She eyes Kevin. "What. Of yours." She tilts her head, wondering how someone like him heals, given many of the usual remedies (in her mind, at any rate) don't apply.

Wither watched her for a little longer before looking at his arms and sighed, "Ah think the burn cream is workin. Says on the box it'll take a few days but Ah think Ah'll be alright. Can't get sick?" Hey there was a plus to being bacteria and viral immune. He looked back to teh space that used to be the spiral of a road around the absense of a mountain made out of licence plates that he was working on and shook his head, "Ah just… People are confusin ya know? They put you in a box and hide ya and Ah felt bad about what Ah did before. And they lock ya away so that ya feel bad about it, and since Ah already did by the end of it? That fella that got dusted yesterday? Ah dunno… Ah suppose Ah should feel bad but…" He shrugged, "Ah don't. Ah don't feel a thing. Ah can't figure out if Ah should or not but aside from that, right? Eh Ah'll get better… thank you. For your help. Ah really appreciate it Ford-Scar."

Fjorskar's nose works. Of course, he wouldn't need to worry about—

She flinches, head shying to one side, and growls softly. No. Can't think about that. Not about that. She shakes herself out despite the irritation it brings the burns, sending her feathers flying. A few drop off and flutter to the tunnel floor.

"You are. Welcome." Her lip curls. "We should have. Punished them. *All* of them, for what. They did to that, green place." Her clawed hands work like she's imagining that night again, and what she didn't do at Carson and Jean's behest.

Wither picked at the sleeve of his hoodie. He hated mentioneing it but maybe she was the other peron he knew that GOT it. SHIELD custody as a 'criminal mutant' was not a fun thing and the government believed in peace & quiet, not justice. He nodded in agreement with her, "Yeah, he was kinda talkin that way too. Can't help but t'think my dad would be jsut disappoined in everyone. He taught me how to build our garden back home. It was pretty great." A smile warmed his face recalling it, letting his eyes close, "I miss raspberries. They make fake stuff that tries to taste like raspberry. It don't. Some people jes wanna ruin everything."

Though it makes her angry to admit it, Fjorskar would also be dealing with someone's — a few someones' — disappointment if she'd followed through, so ultimately it's better she didn't. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, like the smoke, and she snarls softly. It will never end, will it?

But the comment about raspberries stirs a different response. She goes quiet and unmoving for some time, the only sound her raspy breathing. Then, "I miss. Following, the tides. The old forest, dark, and heavy. The great pasture. On the hills. The mountain air. In my wings." She huffs, shakes her head, looks at Kevin. "They ruin, all. They can," she agrees.

Wither listened and a simple smile hung on the boy. Sure he was going on 20, but for her still a kid. Then he was confused tiltig his head, "Wait wer ethe mountian and the tides in teh same place or…you jes travel a lot?" He didn't know a lot about mountains other than up was up, down was down, and being incarcerated under one really sucked. "I take it that place ain' around here cause I smelled the water front, uhhh Ahhhhh don' know anyone misses that here."

"Was not, always." Fjorskar gestures at herself. "One. Once, I…we. Were separate, and each, had its own. Place in the world." She lets out a long, slow breath, jerks her head to the east unerringly. "Far from here. Far from, now. Centuries ago." She settles back on her heals, coughs, runs a hand over her face in annoyance. "What, now. For you." She pointed overhead. "How do you. Intend to act. After such a…thing." The last word ends on a growl; she hated the burning of the garden, oh yes.

Wither smiled with a sad honesty, "Yeah. I thought about goin back but it won't be the same. They won't… treat me the same. Ah'm guessin you run into that too since you said it was like super long time ago." His hand gestured around. A couple stools and the ledge up was offered as he sat on teh ledge, feet dangling, "Sit if ya like. Ah mean… Ah dunno? Haven't thought about it at all. Jes tryin t'get over this numb feelin. I dunno how Ah'm supposed t'act. Ah do know my friend Doug's been real amd abotu all this too an' he's been havin a heck of a time just watching bad things happen t'good people. " Tiling his head he admitted, "He ain' the most…productive guy when it comes to expressin feeling but I dunno many people that care more. So maybe Ah'm supposed to act t'help make the flock safer from teh wolves… punk ugly bald wolves."

Fjorskar snorts at the offered stools with wolfish amusement; she's as likely to crush them as not. She doesn't decline the offer to come up, however, and does so with strange agility for her long-bodied shape. She eyes the ledge and Kevin by turns, and eventually sits cross-legged a foot or so from him. This close he can feel the heat radiating off her, and hear the rustle of her feathers with every movement. The stone hanging from the chain around her neck glints in the faint light from her eyes, and the scar across her chest is an ugly, dark mark along the pearly reflection of her scales.

"Rage, is a pure thing. But." Her lip writhes. "Many, don't understand it. How to shape it. How to use it." She considers Kevin. The analogy is amusing for her to hear, of course, yet she takes it seriously. "Perhaps." She looks out into the darkness. "But what. Will be necessary."

Wither picked up a tiny piece of debris as Fjorskar sat. He flicked it bouncing his heels on the downsupport wall, "I don't… like bein angry. Jes hard when people actin the damn fool alla time." he looked to the creature and shrugged, "Ah won' lie. felt good jes… gettin that much hate out of the world… in mah hand but it don't last. Good feelins don't last cause it ain' like… one incident of people bein, ya know, dumb. Doug thinks he got it all figured out but… there's holes in his logic he don' see. Ah see em."

Reluctantly — so very reluctantly — Fjorskar admits, "The purity, of rage. Makes it difficult. To see. Clearly." She shudders; as a spirit it's hard to admit a deep, personal flaw of that nature. It's a judgement leveled against herself at the most fundamental level.

She can't really relate to not liking anger, but the rest is much more familiar. "We must listen. To the others—to the pack. The flock. Family, for guidance." She looks down at Kevin. "If, we are, their anger. Their strength. And if we are to, protect. Them. We must accept, their direction." She stares at Kevin, waiting to see if he understands her point.

Wither tried to listen as best as he could. He finished high school and while he wasn't college material, fairly insightful. "Sooo You're sayin… anger clouds judgement, but it gets things done because they angry aren't over thinkin everythin… but because of that to listen to …" His brow furrowed and he waved a hand trying to find words letting his head swim in a figure eight, "Like if y'all are gonna do someone a favour find out from them what they want don' decide that for them?" He looked to her curiously for the answer following up with, "How… how will I know which one I am?"

Fjorskar dips her head in what is probably the most human gesture she's ever made: a nod. "The pack — the family. Must work, as one." She flashes her teeth. "Alone we sre vulnerable. We are prey." She considers his question thoughtfully; of course, the answer of which she is couldn't be more clear. He, on the other hand, is a different story all together, perhaps one at a crossroads.

"You are powerful." She says this like she's observing the color of her feathers. "And you dislike, anger. But." If it's possible for a wolfish face to give a knowing look, hers does. "You feel that call, as well. And you wish. Sometimes…to answer it." She was paying attention, at the garden fire, she definitely was.

Wither flicked another rock and listened confused, "Family? M'family's gone, Ford-Skar. Had some people for a while but… they gave me to the people who put me in the cage." Not an untrue statement and the imagery dseemed to be common language for them. He shrugged, "M'own people, m'am. Doug didn't bail on me though. So… maybe it's small but I do. THe others I dunno. We ain't really talked. Jeb's been cool about things but Ah… really dunno anyone. But… I dunno maybe that ain't your point." He was open to not having the whole picture on that one.

Woo. Anger. He took a deep breath and admitted to her, "Ah didn' used t' be angry at all. Now it's as ahrd t'turn off as the hunger. Like… I guess gotta found an outlet for both of em or like a fire ys stop cookin ya food and start burning down the whole forest and that ain't good."

"Family is not *only*. Blood. Get. Family, is the pack. The ones with whom. You are whole…and, at peace." Fjorskar's feathers fluff out a bit. "If those who. Came before are unworthy. Have betrayed you." Her language smooths out some, the words coming easier. "You must find a new pack. A new family." She growls, soft and low. "It can be done."

She shifts, scales making a soft, dry sound as they scrape over one another. "Hunger," she echoes, trying to understand the context of the word. Her eyes blink in the darkness. "When your power consumes?" she asks, unsure of the right words to use.

Wither was just told, by a primordial force, the same words his father used. 'Ya just got to go out there and make friends, Kev.' A deep sigh filled his chest resulting in a lot of coughing. He pressed the heel of his palm to his sternum. Woah. easy. kay. He wasn't certain if the slight burning in his chest was because of the smoke damage or because he missed his dad and his life. Likely both.

Kevin looked up and said, "Well Ah'm startin with Doug. E'eryone sees fit t'call him names but he's havin a hard time and stood by me. Ah'm not makin him walk alone so… that's one. but um… if you know the kid that got hurt? I'd kinda like to bring him smoe of those plants as an apology. Could be a start."

Green eyes looked down into his hand and his expression shifted; somethingprimal, the grin that hunts. With a certain pride he nodded, "Yeah. It don't like… talk t'me, but when it starts happenin there's this… there's a rush ya know. Like it don't care it jes' wants. Like… Ah'm the door to this void and it jsut wants t be filled. It won't. Can't. DeeGee said it's just death and that's how it is. It eats. Whiiiich is funny cause I can't anymroe. Weird how that works out. But enough ain' ever enough and like I make myself sop but it hurts when I do and when I stop feedin it Ah can feel how big that void is."

Fjorskar's ears lay back as he coughs. She watches him, her expression impassive, as he speaks. Once he's done she makes a low sound, somewhere between a groan and a croak. "To seek anew is…difficult. To wait until you find them, painful." She ducks her head, as if to study her legs. "This, I am well. Aware of."

She considers him again. "Yes. Idunnschild will require, help. To bring a new green place forth." She blows out a breath. "It is a hard thing. To be the channel, through which power flows." There's sympathy and maybe even understanding in her voice, in as much as her rough, grating voice carries any sort of inflection. Though perhaps Kevin's heard her speak enough to begin to hear the nuances. "To be the one, who must, refuse, or accept. To be outside the contract itself." Another heavy breath. She doesn't, it seem, have wisdom to offer there, just comiseration.

Wither bit his lip and had nothin. He listened and chuffed a grin. So man thoughts in his head. Delusions of grandeur aside he looked to her and nodded, "Ah'd like t'find better frinds again. Maybe we jes' gotta be ready t'do what they ain't. Ah mean, we might never have an answer, but, like…. Ah finally figured out Ah don' wanna die, Ah just want things t'be different." He didn't elaborate on why or how he knew that, but he'd arrived at the answer he needed and that seemed to be enough. "Ah mean, I'll be your friend. You been good with me. Maybe both of us need t'jsut figure out how t'be a force of nature in a new age."

"The will, to survive in such a," Fjorskar raises her eyes to the ceiling, "place, such a time, as this. Is difficult, for. Those like us, to have. It is good…that you have found it." She rumbles deep in her chest, surveys him warily. She thinks of a night in the forest which feels like ages ago and yet was only two full moons past. "Friend," she repeats. A long slow breath in and out. "Yes," she agrees, both to friendship, and to the rest. "This world does not…know. What to do, with us."

Wither swung his feet idly side to side and thought about that. "Maybe…" He was really thinking on this. He wasn't the best of deep thinkers but his mind worked jest fine and was still sharp as a tack. "Maybethe world don' know because it ain' for the world to decide. Maybe that's what Doug was tryin to get at with all teh wrong words which-" Now that Kevin said that out loud was up there with having a snake that was a vegitarian. Huh. "is… super weird, but maybe that's for us to figure out and let the world know, this is how this is gonna be. How it is is broken. Maybe we fit into the world before things got broke. Before things got off track. Maybe we ain't the eons that are broke."

Fjorskar snorts, runs a claw over the stone amulet at her chest in an absent gesture. "It is so," she says. She spends several seconds contemplating the rest of her thoughts, turning over prior conversations with Adam and the world-shaper in her mind. "But. To fix, what has been broken. To effect change." She growls, showing her huge teeth. Relents with a huff of breath. "Killing them—that will not, work. There are too many." As much as she would have dearly loved to slaughter everyone responsible for the garden and leave their bodies where those like-minded would find them. "So we must, seek another…way. Another, solution. A way that we may be allowed to live. Without fear. Without pain." Of course, there's the small issue for her of being bound to a host. But that's a conversation for those better-versed in that particular predicament.

Wither wrapped his fingers around the edge of the ledge and continued to let his feet wiggle as he thought. Yeah. Part of himhad to agree that killing every last mother fucker would have been satisfying. The other part of him only reminded Kev that that too would fade and become insufficient to sate the want and the anger fast. He sighed. He used to be such a normal kid. Weird things happen in five years. "Yeah. it's inefficient. Also like… ya wanna change people's minds ya gotta give em a reason. Ya can't just tell em no or they gonna tell you no back. Like Doug an that Elmo guy fightin usin all different words to say teh same thing/ Won't work if people don't get why it's happenin."

He let go of his grip on the ledge to flow on his back, feet still dangling. "My pa used t' tell me ya can't jes bury a problem in the back yard an throw dirt on it or all your tomatoes are gonna taste like it. Some folks don't know how though and… well I get it."

Another name Fjorskar doesn't recognize, so she memorizes it like the rest and concerns herself with the rest. Certainly she recognizes the problem of two individuals communitcating at cross purposes; even old spirits have encountered that one. As long as there'd been language, there'd been ways to misunderstand it. "Yes. Understanding must be shared. Grudges must be set…aside, for there to be. An accord." She licks her muzzle. This was the raven's territory, and that part of her woke so slowly sometimes.

She turns her head and coughs, that same dry, rasping sound from earlier. "Yes. It is difficult to face. Pain, and fear. To accept another way. To know that what you see. Is not the only way. To see it."

She shivers, snarls, and her feathers stand on end. "I must…rest, soon. The host will wake." Apparently feeling this is a sufficient explanation, she gets up and blows out a breath near Kevin; not so close as to risk touching him, but enough to make his hair move. "Careful, Surtrschild. They will hunt us more. Now." Because, like it nor not, there are survivors who can — and probably already have — describe both of them in detail.

Wither msmiled. It was one of an odd kinship. It was nice to find company that understood some of the things happening to him he didn't know how to ttalk about, or at least to now he wasn't alone going through them. "You be careful too. An… thank you."

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