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Post by Artie Cade on Jul 2, 2017 1:55:15 GMT -5
Artie looked up at Mystique, then over at Barbara as she walked away. Do not interact with....who was this person that Barbara considered them a better fencer for anything than he was? His expression darkened ever so slightly as he watched Barbara trot off.
She seemed to be treating him like some bumbling cartoon.
Clearly he would have to remind her sooner rather than later just who he was and what he did.
Rothchild, on the other hand, watched Barbara move away from the group and it seemed in his face that he aged a good fifty years. The light faded from his eyes and he moved more in a slower shuffle after her than his previous more youthful step. He often forgot that he was a tired old man.
But what he never forgot was that he couldn't bear to see his Barbs upset. He couldn't bear it.
As he approached her and found her crying, he leaned down at her side and handed her his handkerchief, initialed in his monogram.
"....Barbara?" he asked measuredly but in a soft voice, "What is it, dear? You tell your old uncle what's wrong, eh? No one else is listening. Just us. All right?"
With some marked difficulty, he managed to sit next to her, stretching his legs out.
"If you wouldn't like to talk, perhaps just let me sit with you a while?" he requested as he looked off into the distant beginnings of a sunset.
"I know I made....rather a mess of your day here, dear....I hope you'll forgive me," he continued, looking back at her, "It may have been better had I turned along another path and left you to your work. I know how important it is to you-"
Rothchild's speech was cut off for a moment as he coughed rather violently for a moment before regaining himself.
"Excuse me." he said as he cleared his throat.
He had not been very well for some time. But clearly it was nothing for him to bother with. Much less his little Barbs.
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Cheetah
Villains 
This sort of thing doesn't happen to Barbara Minerva. I don't let it.
Posts: 129 
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Post by Cheetah on Jul 2, 2017 10:46:17 GMT -5
Barbara took the offered handkerchief without question and held it in her hands, tracing the monogram with her fingertips before actually using it. He had always given her this to use for her tears, and she felt like she used it more the older she got. Fewer visits, but with more tears. Once Rothchild sat down, Barbara rested her head against his shoulder. She wanted to curl up against him and lay her head in his lap, but she was no longer a little girl and he was no longer a robust man.
“I nearly lost you,” she told him softly. “I nearly lost you and, had you taken a different path and not come running towards me, you might have died and then I wouldn’t have known that at all. I don’t even know who they would have sent the letter to. The notification. I’m not even in Nottingham right now. I’m in America. It may have taken weeks. You would have died so close and I’d have been oblivious. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to ever lose you.” That bit of explanation had come out quickly and freely, not stopping until it was fully out. Barbara felt that she could have continued, comparing it to her mother’s passing, but she felt that they both understood the gravity and parallels without the need to compare.
“You didn’t make a mess of this day, uncle. It was already… not the best before you had arrived.” She looked up and back at her other two companions, fully prepared to see them having gone. “Artie and Mystique, they… I told them that I was going on a dig and that it would be weeks or perhaps a few months before I would return. They took it as…” Barbara paused in her story, afraid of how to explain it all to her uncle. She had never told him about what she did as a side business, afraid that he would disapprove. But, perhaps due to the blood diamonds, she would be able to put it in a better light, and not call herself an outright thief or tomb raider. “I… trade in circles that are more than just academic, uncle. The majority of my work goes to museums, but, should there be demands from private citizens for certain items, I… do my best to suit their needs. It is not about money. It has never been about money. Rather it has always been about making sure the world appreciates what has been hidden away, lost, or forgotten. You’ve always been one to say ‘never let things stay hidden or talent and passion go unused, lest it grow forgotten and atrophied, covered in the dust of time’.” That sounded sort of similar to something Rothchild would say, didn’t it?
“They thought this was one of those expeditions. I should have been forthright and said that it wasn’t. I would never do something like that to a dig of this nature. This has been a dream of mine to work here.” Not to mention any item from this site would have been impossible to move for the time being. “I’ve always wanted to see Knossos, ever since I read the Tanglewood Tales by Hawthorne, which you gifted to me as a birthday present when I was seven, I might add. So, now I’m here. And they came along too. Surprised me. And that surprise cracked more than a few amphorae as a result, and I’m not sure what my status will be when I when return to the site.” That was a difficult sentence to swallow.
Rothchild’s sudden bought of coughing broke whatever remaining sadness Barbara had inside of her, and the expression she bore was one of great concern. “Uncle? What’s wrong? How long have you had this cough? Do we need to get you to a doctor? I’ll pay for a visit.” Crete might not have the best medical choices, but they could certainly have something to give him some relief until they got back to the mainland. “I can take you home, get you a doctor there.”
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Post by Artie Cade on Jul 5, 2017 15:40:51 GMT -5
Rothchild ran a hand over Barbara's shoulder gently, reassuringly as she went on. He offered only a steady nod as she spoke.
"Shhhhh," he whispered, "Shh shh, none of that now. I'm quite all right. No worrying over me, Barbs, you hear me?"
He continued to hold her against him, making the best of it as he could. It was true, he could not quite scoop her up as he had in the old days. Though he wished he could and may have felt tempted to try. But no, he was an old man now. That had to be accounted for. He looked at Barbara with softened eyes, the cough having subsided.
"My life was never in danger," he said matter-of-factly, "I know when it is, and this certainly was not one such time. But if I could spend the last of my days ensuring you have many more, I would. And so, I chanced it. I knew the odds were with us. And I know that even when I'm no longer around, I'll be right here."
He touched her forehead.
"And even over there, I fancy."
He pointed to Mystique and to Artie.
"Our lives are what we share with others and what we make of them, not what we do for ourselves," he continued, "That man over there. And Mystique. I know you and I know her and I trust your judgment. If not for them, we'd be in a far stickier mess than we had been in, eh? They only wanted to be with you on one of your excursions. Do you think them so wicked for some accident at the site? That sort of thing happens every day, without any human involvement whatever. Especially at sites waiting to be dug, what."
Rothchild emitted a chuckle, and began to perhaps look slightly more his jovial self again and less like a weathered old gentleman.
"The fact is," he went on, "I did turn up on your site's doorstep. And here I am, and here we are. There's no sense in worrying over what could have been. Or I couldn't tell you even one of my further adventures when I was away these years. And I will promise you this: the dig site will gladly accept you back to resume your work, they shan't have a thing to say poorly about it. I'll make certain."
He kissed Barbara's head reassuringly, holding her close against him.
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Cheetah
Villains
This sort of thing doesn't happen to Barbara Minerva. I don't let it.
Posts: 129
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Post by Cheetah on Jul 5, 2017 21:51:41 GMT -5
“No worrying about you, yes sir,” she answered, tears fading, as if his presence was enough to put her at ease. He always made her feel better or feel loved or important. Never once had he ever raised his voice in anger towards her, nor had he ever truly disapproved of her actions, even as an impetuous youth that would sneak into his study after her bedtime in order to just be with him. Occasionally, Barbara would even do the unthinkable and steal away a pillow and blanket from her bed and curl up in one of his large chairs, creating her own little nest to fall asleep in as she asked him countless questions or listened to his stories.
Even now, she listened to him with quiet attention, never once feeling the urge to interrupt him or explain herself more.When he gently touched her forehead, Barbara felt her emotions well up once more, almost to the brink of crying anew, but the sensation quickly passed. Or rather, it became easier to control.
As Rothchild talked, Barbara realized that he was lecturing her in his usual manner; one that was not accusatory, but rather merely a well-defined suggestion that you never denied or turned away from. “No sir, the accident wasn’t their fault. It was mine,” she admitted quietly, not feeling ashamed, but rather simply accepting the truth. Their lives had been saved by Artie and Mystique just now. Barbara doubted she would have been able to talk her way out of it, knowing the full details of the encounter. “They are good people, and I’m happy you found Mystique again.” That was an odd thing to say, as Barbara was still unsure about that entire situation. She vaguely remembered a woman accompanying her great uncle once. Naturally, little Barbs worried about her uncle being taken away by this new person, so she wasn’t quite so fond of her at first, but the woman eventually won her over and little Barbs gave her permission to be her great aunt if she really wanted that. Barbara wondered if that had been Mystique.
When Rothchild said he would put her back in the good graces of the digsite, Barbara looked at him with hope, but didn’t question it. He had a way of doing such things. “Thank you, uncle,” she told him, her voice still soft. After a quiet bit of simply sitting together, Barbara kissed Rothchild’s cheek and stood up, helping him back to his feet as well. She then made her way back towards Artie and Mystique. “I’m sorry I lost my temper and yelled at you, Artie. Can you forgive me?” she asked as an apology, giving him a hug before turning to the blue woman and giving her one as well. “Thank you for risking your life in order to keep us safe. I’m sorry for my behavior. It was wrong.” She looked in Mystique’s eyes before turning away somewhat sheepishly, an action that mirrored her apology to Rothschild’s lady friend all those years ago. “He’s missed you….” That was all she could manage as a way to say ‘go see the man you love as much as I do’.
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Mystique
Villains
Raven Darkholme is not a woman to be trifled with.
Posts: 107
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Post by Mystique on Jul 5, 2017 22:36:21 GMT -5
Mystique would have been lying if she had told Barbara she accepted her apology, but the words came out of her mouth anyway. "It's alright," she lied easily. The truth was, it wasn't alright. It was her idea to come to Greece to surprise Barbara, and she never meant any harm by showing up at the dig site. They never meant to stay and interfere with her work. They simply wanted her to know they were there, and she acted like they had ruined her entire dig. Artie, the poor man, might even have blamed himself for the accident that had been suffered upon their arrival. He was in such a daze for such a while, she was left to wonder how much he blamed himself for any of it. She couldn't forgive that.
She turned her attention to Artie, leaning down and kissing him sweetly. "Try to take it easy on her, alright," she teased. "I'm going to go say hello to an old friend."
Though, in truth, he was far more than that.
Looking at Reginald, she was reminded of her greatest fear. The inability to grow old with someone she loved more than life itself. But still, the longer she looked at him, the more she saw the young, handsome, dapper young man that had stolen her heart all those decades ago.
She walked toward him, and soon enough her pace had turned into a run. Her emotions caught in her throat as she threw her arms around him, lips connecting with his in a passion they had used to joke was only true of Bavarian Hellos. She held him close in a passionate embrace until she finally found the courage to look at him.
She examined every line on his face, fingers tracing the smile lines along his cheeks. Tears sprang into her eyes. She should have stayed with him. She should never have left.
But then, at the same time, she would never have met Artie.
But maybe she would never have been in Europe for the Second Great War.
All of the What Ifs flooded through her head as she looked into his sparkling green eyes that hadn't aged a day, and she decided none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he was here now.
Her yellow eyes, still watering, glimmered with tears she refused to shed as she ran her hand through his hair, as she used to do.
"I never thought I'd see you again," she admitted, voice cracking under the emotion. "I've .... I've never been so happy to be proven wrong."
With the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks, she buried her face into his chest and clung to him. A few moments later, and she softly began to sob. Not from sadness, but from overwhelming happiness. The man she had considered to be the love of her life, that she had left so many years ago, had now just shown up. It was more than she could have ever wished for. And she had wished for it. More than once.
A literal wish come true was in her arms, and she could barely contain herself.
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Post by Artie Cade on Jul 16, 2017 16:54:25 GMT -5
Barbara apologizing so readily was not something Artie had been used to, and found it momentarily difficult to accept her embrace until he heard her speak and saw the expression on her face. As she went to hug Mystique, he found himself smiling.
"...of course," he said with a nod before watching Mystique bound toward the old man, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
He put his arm around Barbara's hip and leaned against her.
"Still, that...may very well be quite enough adventure for me for one day..." he said with a nervous chuckle.
Rothchild stood as he saw Mystique approaching him. A warm smile creased his face and he held out his arms to catch her. He felt like he'd been saving his waning strength for this precise moment...
When Mystique leapt against him and held him, he used that strength to spin them both around before their lips met in a deep kiss. It wearied him slightly, but he dipped Mystique low like he'd always done when he was young, before righting her again and chortling.
"Can't think you'd be rid of me so easily, what!" he joked as he held her close against him, "Oh how I have missed you, Mystique. Every day since, and....oh..."
He noted she was quietly weeping. Smiling, but weeping. He held her close to his chest and kissed her head.
"There there, now..." he cooed softly, "It's all right. You're here now, and so am I. So is Barbara, and so is your young man. Everything's all right now, shh..."
He let the moment linger for a moment as he quietly stroked her hair and held her, a tornado of emotions going to and fro within his own mind and heart.
It had been a terrible long count of years since he had seen Mystique. It felt like several lifetimes. All the while he had spent trying to forget her. To move along. After all, she had left and he had understood. She hadn't aged a day, but here he was: old Brigadier Sir Reginald Montgomery Rothchild XVI, a battered old mast on this creaky uneven ship called life. But Mystique was always the sail of his direction, and remained in perfect condition. Choosing which wind to take, where to steer the course of his heart.
He didn't mind so much that she had found another. This...Artie fellow seemed a strange man. But capable. But so very small. He could never admit as much to Mystique for fear it may upset her, but his initial impression had been that Artie was a small boy. A son perhaps. But the world was made up of strange people doing boring things and boring people doing strange things and any number of combinations of the two, and so he trusted her judgment. He felt no jealousy toward Artie, and was glad that Barbara had also seemingly found some comfort in the man. He smiled up at them from down below with Mystique, glad that the day had turned out as it had.
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Cheetah
Villains
This sort of thing doesn't happen to Barbara Minerva. I don't let it.
Posts: 129
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Post by Cheetah on Jul 20, 2017 17:50:54 GMT -5
It’s alright. Barbara tried to reassure herself as Mystique said those words. They came easily and willingly out of her mouth, but a small part of her thought they came too easily; almost in an automatic fashion. Barbara knew that sort of etiquette well. You give and receive apologies like proper ladies and gentlemen even if you wanted to spit tacks at the other person’s face. It was just how things were done. Though it would remain to be seen if the matter was truly settled. Only time would tell.
As Mystique ran off to see Uncle Rothchild once more, Barbara turned to Artie once more; partly to give him the proper attention that he needed and partly so she wouldn’t have to have the image of her great-uncle being passionate with a woman who looked a third of his age. Again, there were those manners. “No, Artie, I mean it. You both came here hoping to surprise me and have some fun, and I ruined it all by acting as I did. It was wrong.” She leaned gently into him, brushing a bit of dirt from off his suit as he put an arm around her. “And I truly mean it. What you both did, just now? Thank you. You saved my life and, more importantly, you saved his life. I don’t care what he says about not being in danger. You saved him.” Barbara glanced back at the couple as they held each other tight. With how they acted, it was clear that Mystique was the lady friend he brought along once or twice. It was likely more times, but to tell the truth, Barbara couldn’t remember. She wanted to say the she was a dark haired woman with a kind and loving face, but memories were faulty and she didn’t want to make them false.
“I promise that most of the time, archeological digs aren’t this exciting, Artie,” she joked with a smile as she gently nudged him with her hip. "I would like to take you and Mystique around. Show you parts of the site. If that is something you and her would like," she added a bit softly. If they decided not to do such a thing and instead go drinking with Rothchild, Barbara would completely understand. She nudged the dirt a bit with the toe of her boot, feeling like a child wanting to justify her reasons. "They uncovered absolutely beautiful frescoes. And there's a throne room I think you'd like. Have you ever sat on a royal throne before, Artie?"
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Mystique
Villains
Raven Darkholme is not a woman to be trifled with.
Posts: 107
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Post by Mystique on Aug 1, 2017 17:51:15 GMT -5
Mystique hated seeing him so old. Hated seeing him so frail. It was the reason she had left Rothchild all those years ago. She knew it would break her heart to see him so old and withered, and so she had vanished from his life.
And now, here he was. Just like always. Right when she needed him. She clung to him and closed her eyes, letting the world melt away around her. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed between them. It was like they had just reunited after being away in separate rooms.
But at the same time, she could feel the years start tearing at her. All of the years she had spent away from him had been agonizing. Not just because of her experiences during the war, but her very time away from him had worn away at her soul. She had found comfort in Artie, and she would never forget that, but at the same time she would be fooling herself to think for a moment that she would ever truly be able to move on from her experience of loving Rothchild.
"I'm sorry," she said. For what, she wasn't sure. For everything? Probably. For leaving? Definitely. For crying? Right now, yes. She looked up at him, feeling naked in front of him with her blue skin exposed to him. It was one of the things she feared most, was him finding out about her powers. But now that he knew, it almost seemed silly to be afraid. Why would her Rothchild ever hate her for what she was? He was the most loving person she had ever known, with Artie coming in a close second.
Why would she ever have been afraid?
Her stomach dropped when she realized what she had done.
She had left him for reasons that turned out not to exist anywhere but her own mind.
"Reginald ... I'm so sorry," she said again. "I know this isn't the time or the place to be talking about this, but ... I'm so sorry I left." She looked into his eyes, and suddenly she started to feel a little better. It was like his eyes were her safety blanket, where she could just fall into them and be safe from the world. Those eyes had never meant her harm, and had never brought her anything but joy.
She was sure, now, he could never have hated her for what she was. Her fears were stupid, based in nothing but the expectation that he was like every other man. How stupid could she have been to think that?
"Do you think you could find it in your heart to forgive me?"
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Post by Artie Cade on Aug 1, 2017 22:26:59 GMT -5
Artie smiled up at Barbara. He was glad she'd had time to cool down. It certainly saved his pockets from having to immediately possibly have to cough up cash for a trip back to New York City.
"Well, we shouldn't have just barged in unannounced either," he said with a nod, "After all, this is your work. I should have been more delicate with that in mind."
He stood on his toes and kissed her cheek.
"I couldn't just sit about," he said as he stood back down flat, "Not with you and your uncle with guns on ya. After all, that's my specialty."
A grin spread over his face again as Barbara nudged him. He stumbled for a moment, laughing, and caught himself.
"A throne? A real one?" he laughed, "Oh no, not me. Unless you count that huge chair in my office. I've...actually been very curious about your work, I'd love to see it."
The truth was, he'd always assumed archeology was dull and tiresome. He was hardly much of a laborer himself. But the richness of the old...everything around the dig site was interesting, he had to admit. Anything old usually was to him, but this wasn't just old, really, it was ancient. Even older than old.
"I really would!" he said as he took Barbara's hands and kissed them excitedly.
The old man that Rothchild had become showed less and less visible signs of being bent over and frail as he held Mystique. She had changed. She had become...blue. A textured blue. And her eyes seemed to be made of gold, her hair a deep blood red. For a moment Rothchild had initially been taken aback. But not in fear, in awe. She must have been one of those mutants he'd heard tales of. He'd never encountered one properly...that he'd been aware of. But it didn't matter. She was in his arms again.
And she....apologized to him? And asked for his forgiveness?
This took Rothchild aback proper.
He pulled away to look into her eyes, running a hand carefully over her hair.
"My Mystique..." he said softly, "It is already done. There was nothing to forgive. If anyone requires forgiveness of the two of us, why, it's most certainly me."
His eyes glassed over for a moment, seeming far away even as he looked at her.
"When you'd disappeared..." he said, his jovial voice now tender, "I looked for you. I looked at all corners, every port and every town from the furthest ends of Eastern Europe to Spain. But I couldn't find you. I knew it was foolish, I knew it was risky but...I had to try. I had to try to find you again to at least say goodbye properly."
Rothchild's heart grew heavy at the memory and his age perhaps showed a bit more as his brow furrowed with concern.
"I wasn't strong enough, Mystique," he confessed, "The trek beat me in the end. If I had only been more focused, more purposeful...I might have saved you from the walls of those camps. When I'd heard th..."
His voice stopped for a moment. No. He wouldn't dredge up that memory.
"...it was only afterward that I ever found out where you'd been," he went on, "But all I discovered there were ruins and rubble. The war had ended and so had my quest. And I'd thought I'd lost you forever. And without you, it felt as if every minute, every tick of a clock trapped me in that forever..."
He kissed her forehead gently for a moment before looking back into her eyes.
"You must forgive me," he asked, "For not fulfilling my task. For not saving you. Even if they did not destroy you, the thought of it haunts me when I sleep...it has for so many long years."
A ghost of a smile twitched on his face for a moment as he looked at Mystique.
"Will you?"
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Mystique
Villains
Raven Darkholme is not a woman to be trifled with.
Posts: 107
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Post by Mystique on Aug 27, 2017 22:07:18 GMT -5
Mystique felt tears burn at the corners of her eyes as Rothchild spoke to her. He looked for her. That should have done wonders to heal the pieces of her broken heart, but all it did was scatter them to the far reaches of the world. All the corners she ran to to run from him where she left pieces of herself now seemed to show on her face. Her youthful visage seemed to age ever so slightly from how far she had to go to get away from the pain she tried to run from, and all of it had turned out to be for naught.
Not all for naught, maybe. She'd reunited with Destiny. She'd found some small glimmer of happiness. But it was nothing in comparison to the neverending summer that was her time with Rothchild. And now, seeing him so old was everything she had feared it would be. But at the same time? She couldn't be happier now that she was back in his arms.
Both of them had been running on an endless quest.
Both of them knew they would never stop running.
And here they both were.
Where they belonged.
"There is nothing to forgive," she said, voice cracking slightly. She leaned up and kissed him. "I was in that dreadful place for years before I finally burnt it to the ground. I escaped. Had I known you were still chasing me up to that point, I would have ..." She trailed off. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what she would have done.
"I knew you were looking for me. A few times, there, you almost found me." She looked down, unable to meet his eye in shame. "I wanted nothing more than to jump out and tell you where I was. I wanted you to find me. I hated hiding from you. But the truth was ... I was scared. I was scared of what you might do when you found out... what I was."
She met his eye again, the tears streaming down her cheeks readily now.
"All my life I've been cast aside because of the way I look, and I couldn't bear to see you look at me differently. I couldn't stand the thought that you would think less of me because I'm a mutant. And worst of all, I couldn't bear the thought of watching you grow so old and not being able to do the same with you. I was afraid and selfish and I thought it would be easy, but ... well, it was the hardest and one of the worst decisions I've ever made."
She wiped some of her tears away and swallowed thickly, trying to compose herself. It was difficult to do, but she had to make a concerted effort if she wanted to make a viable apology.
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Post by Artie Cade on Aug 31, 2017 19:50:38 GMT -5
Artie watched Mystique and Rothchild, their speech inaudible to him. It was clearly a very....intimate conversation indeed.
But he didn't let that irritate him much. After all, he had both Barbara and Mystique. Who was he to begrudge a reunion that evidently meant so much to his Raven?
He felt almost like he should be annoyed. Or say something. But he found he wasn't and, curiously enough, didn't want to. In a way it was...nice. It looked like what one would expect closure to look like. And so he just kept close to Barbara, looking back up at her, content that things seemed to have smoothed over.
It was all rather....astonishing. Mystique had....seen him searching for her? And she hadn't bothered to tell him she was there? Rothchild's expression turned to soft dismay at her revelation as she went on.
When she had finished, he blinked for a moment, quite unable to formulate the words adequately.
"You...." he said, "....how little you must think of me indeed, if you thought that even for a moment I would look at you differently."
He ran the knuckles of his finger down her cheek and looked at her almost mournfully. Deep down, he didn't want to reveal what he was about to, but the words came out.
"When I had surrendered my search..." he half whispered, "...and returned to the estate, to take comfort in what few joys that war had not taken from me...Barbara's father put me out of the house. Took my little Barbs away from me. He did not want me to come 'round any longer. And you were...still out there? You had seen me? Oh, Mystique, what...what had I done to make you think so little of me that you couldn't be with me when I needed you most?"
Rothchild's eyes conveyed a deep set confusion. None of this made sense to him. Selfishness? She'd said as much. But...
"...and then her poor mother died, and you..." he started to go on in a small voice, "...and I had to watch them bury her in the earth...it should have been me a thousand times over. Not her, never her. But...perhaps to you that seems so very commonplace. I understand."
He hadn't meant for that to be as stinging a final pair of words as they came out to be, but the more he went on the more world weary and tired he looked.
"Had you found something to make you happy? Tell me that at least. That whatever kept you so far away from me was some form of happiness that I no longer had. That at least would help me understand all of this...."
There was no ghost of a smile on his face. Not anymore. Only a quiet anguish. Even as a newborn child, it had been said that Reginald Montgomery Rothchild had never cried. Not as a youth. Not as a young man. Not even in the face of the horrors of the wars he had endured. But when Mystique had left him that night, without even the words "goodbye" that he could hear and cherish forever as finality, he had cried. Long into the night. The memory of that burned in the far back of his mind, behind barracks where his close friends were kept.
"I don't hold any grudge against you, not now and not ever," he said in a more resolved tone, pressing his forehead to hers, "But I do...want to understand."
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Mystique
Villains
Raven Darkholme is not a woman to be trifled with.
Posts: 107
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Post by Mystique on Aug 31, 2017 21:23:15 GMT -5
There was nothing in the world that hurt Mystique more than seeing no mirth on her Reginald's face. All of the pain and suffering she'd seen and endured in her nearly 700 years of life couldn't hold a candle to the knife in her heart that was the sight of a mournful Rothchild. It was so painful, she didn't even notice her hand coming up to brush against his cheek, or her vision blurring with tears at the sight. All at once, the atrocities of the Holocaust and the Inquisition seemed so far away. Still imprinted in her mind, but now she was faced with a new one. The knowledge of having broken a good man's heart. Not just a good man. The best man she'd ever known.
And for what? She knew she was being selfish. She didn't want to see him grow old. She wanted to remember him at his best.
And she had broken her own heart in the process.
"Reginald..." Her voice was soft. A tone she hadn't used in years. It was the voice she used back when they had first met. She thought, perhaps, it might be comforting. She didn't even know she was using it. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am." Her voice was still soft, but growing weak. It was threatening to break, but she refused to cry. Not until she gave him the closure he deserved.
"I..." What could she say? She had no idea any of that had happened. "I swear on my life, Reginald, if I had known all of that had happened, I would have been at your side in a heartbeat. You didn't deserve to go through that on your own."
Her heart ached for him. She couldn't believe he had been kicked out of the estate. That he had been barred from seeing his Barbs. That...
She looked over at Barbara, and suddenly it made sense. She didn't know why it had taken so long to put it together fully, but there it was.
She looked back at Rothchild and tried to wrap her head around the look of confusion on his face.
His question brought her some pause. She didn't want to tell him. She had never planned on telling him. As far as she wanted him to know, he was the only one she had loved all this time. But that wasn't entirely true. It wasn't entirely untrue, either.
She could feel her heart tear in two as she opened her mouth, trying to decide where to start.
"I ... I did find ... someone else." It hurt so much to say, but he deserved nothing less than the truth. "Irene Adler. I met her shortly before the war, while we had gotten separated on one of our adventures. She was blind and she needed help interpreting her visions. She was a mutant, like me. Then, when the war started, we met again. We were spies together, and we worked together against the Germans. She knew I loved you, and she wanted to help me make sure you came home safely. She said one of her visions was of us reuniting and that we would be together again."
She took his hand and kissed his knuckles, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall where they would.
"She told me she never saw it coming that I would leave you, but I wonder if she was just trying to comfort me. I met back up with her after a couple of years of trying to convince myself I did the right thing by leaving you. I never did convince myself of that ..."
Every word was a dagger in her, but she needed to find the strength to go on.
"Irene ... Destiny ... I feel like she always knew I didn't love her as much as I loved you. Still, she did all she could to help me heal from the heartbreak. I was happy. Not quite as happy as I was with you, but happier than I was without."
Her head tilted up slightly to nuzzle her nose against his in an affectionate gesture. She wished she felt better, getting that off her chest, but she only felt worse.
"I wish I had said goodbye," she finally admitted. "I thought it would be easier not to, but it wasn't. For either of us."
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Post by Artie Cade on Aug 31, 2017 21:56:35 GMT -5
Doing his best not to watch the display in his peripheral vision as Mystique and Rothchild continued to exchange words, Artie resolved to scout the area.
"I think I'll uh..." he whispered up to Barbara, "...I'll check out whatever's around."
He looked up at the setting sun, still high in the sky but in the process of initiating its plunge. He looked around behind them and limped toward the edge of the higher rise the two stood on.
Rothchild believed Mystique. Completely, forever and always. He would trust her with his life, with Barbara's life. He realized that it was a matter of her not trusting him in the same manner. Perhaps he was at fault for it, though. He had always been one to trust someone from the word go, unless they proved untrustworthy. People were ever changing, and he found that even with all of the things in the world he had seen, all of the horrors he had ever endured in the trenches, all of the outposts in India he had helped to occupy, people rarely disappointed him. Even so, he was not blue with scales and golden eyes.
He listened as Mystique spoke softly, in that voice that he had kept in his dreams when he would manage to sleep. He'd thought he would never hear it again...and now that he did, he found that it comforted him. Deeply, right through to his heart.
She took his hand in hers, kissing it gently. He felt her tears tap lightly onto his knuckles. He let her. She spoke of Irene Adler, this Destiny woman she had met. Rothchild's face relaxed into a small smile, which served to better reveal the wrinkles of years etched onto his face. It was a mixed look, an old man at peace.
"I am happy for you. And for her," he said finally, nodding slightly, "It does put me more at ease to know that at least you were able to find some amount of comfort. That's all I wanted, even if I weren't involved atall."
Slowly, he withdrew his pocket watch from within the waistcoat beneath his more rustic tunic. Upon the gold chain was a locket. He opened it slowly and showed it to her: a photograph of the two of them, seated together with their hands intertwined.
"I could never bear to part with it..." he said steadily, "...I feared that perhaps if I did, I might forget what you looked like altogether...but perhaps, I've come to realize, that it isn't what you look like in the photograph which captures my memory of you. It was always how you felt...how I felt, holding you. I'd always thought that if I kept it with me always, I might see you again some day. Some place, on either side of this life. I hoped that no matter where I found myself, there would be your warm hand waiting for mine. And that if I kept you with me no matter what, perhaps you hadn't truly left after all. But now we have each other again at last, for whatever time is left us..." he said as he kissed her forehead and held her face in his hand once more, "You could not think so little of me...that I could ever think of you as anything but the radiant light that you are, and always were."
Her final utterance gave him some small pause, but he kept his head where it was and felt...so at ease. As if a great weight were finally lifted from his shoulders after a mountain trek.
"Not goodbye, no..." Rothchild replied as he came to a realization, his words back to half a whisper, "Please, never...tell me that. Perhaps....til we meet again."
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Mystique
Villains
Raven Darkholme is not a woman to be trifled with.
Posts: 107
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Post by Mystique on Aug 31, 2017 22:51:55 GMT -5
Hearing that he felt more at ease did make Mystique feel a little better, but she didn't feel much better. Her heart was still heavy. She had been carrying the guilt of hurting this man she loved for years and years, and now that she finally had closure? It didn't feel better. Maybe it would in time. Maybe she just needed to spend time with Rothchild to feel that spark again. That spark of adventure she'd longed for for years.
Artie had done something to stoke the flame, and she loved him for it. But if she was honest with herself, it just wasn't the same as the heady days of the adventures with Rothchild.
She looked at the locket he'd kept with him and managed a small smile. Gruesome as some thought it might be, she opened a small cavity in her stomach, the only place she knew it'd be safe, and withdrew a locket of her own. She opened it and showed him two pictures of the two of them. One was of him making a face and her trying not to laugh, and the other was of her surrendering to hysterics and him holding onto her with a knowing grin.
"I've kept it all this time. I think it was for the same reason. That one day, at the right time, you'd find me, and we'd be able to pick up where we left off. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it brought me great comfort on more than one night."
She couldn't bring herself to mention the many nights she saw him on his quest to find her. The many times she could have brought attention to herself. The many times she failed to do so and cried herself to sleep because of her cowardice. The many sleepless nights because she lacked his warm body to curl next to.
"I'll make this promise to you, that I will never tell you goodbye ... so long as you promise me that I won't have to for a long while yet." She looked at him, her golden eyes wet with tears she fought valiantly against, though that war was one she had long since lost. "Please. Don't go away again so soon after we just found each other again."
Looking up at him, her heart burned to tell him more. Not because she wanted to, but because she felt he had the right to know.
"There's... there's more to the story about me ... that you need to know."
She wanted to stop talking, but he had to know the whole story.
"I parted with Destiny around 1929. We kept in touch, but I married a baron. Tensions in Germany were getting high, and I thought it would keep me safe. I lived comfortably for a few years, until I gave birth to a son. Kurt." She paused for a moment, as though it broke her heart to even say his name. "The 30th of January, 1933. The day Hitler rose to power. Reginald, he looked so much like me, and the baron ... he wasn't as accepting as you were ... I had hidden my true identity, but I brought a mutant home. I had to leave Christian, my husband, wanted my son dead. I ran. I ..."
Her voice finally broke as she sobbed. This was the first time she had ever confessed her sins to someone, and it had to be Rothchild.
"I wanted to escape Germany with Kurt and Destiny, but Kurt would have never made it across the border. Destiny was nowhere to be found. I was alone with my son. The Nazis were looking for a blue mutant, so ... I left my son in a church where he would be safe, and I gave them one. I spent the remainder of the war bouncing from camp to camp so my son would be safe. I ... don't even know if he survived the war. If the Nazis discovered their error and found him, or if the church managed to keep him safe."
She grew quiet for a moment before finally looking back up at him.
"I don't honestly know if that makes me wretched that I abandoned my son, or if it makes me a good mother. I can't tell if I should be commended or condemned."
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Cheetah
Villains
This sort of thing doesn't happen to Barbara Minerva. I don't let it.
Posts: 129
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Post by Cheetah on Sept 13, 2017 6:05:56 GMT -5
“Both parties made mistakes, Artie. Let’s leave it at that,” she told him before smiling softly at the kiss. “No matter what people may say, or what even I may say when in a foul mood, you are a knight in shining armor when you wish to be, Artie Cade.” That grin of his, even that laugh, made her feels worlds better. It was only then did she finally relax and feel normal once more. “Yes, Artie, a real throne. Granted, this isn’t one that is jewel encrusted or made of gold, but it’s still an important seat carved from alabaster. The room it’s in? It has griffins painted upon the walls. They just recently restored them, and the images are beautiful. I could bore you with the various theories as to what the room is for, but it essentially boils down to whether it was a male or female priest that sat there.”
Looking over the ruins, or at least looking in a direction that wasn’t towards Mystique and her great uncle, Barbara knew she could easily go on and on about all of this. Artie would likely indulge her, but she was going to make an effort to keep this all simple. “This whole palace was built in the Bronze Age, almost four thousand years ago. That’s around the time of Stonehenge, Babylon, and the Egyptians. The Bible has Sodom and Gomorrah being destroyed around the same time. In terms of warfare? Spoke-wheeled chariots were the hot, new invention. And here we are, having just split the atom a few years ago. Quite the difference.” Barbara wondered if it was during this time period that Urzkartaga was worshiped and in his prime.
Following Artie as he walked around, Barbara risked a glance back at Rothchild. He looked happy. No, scratch that. He looked like a great weight had been taken off of him after all these years. A bit of tired relief. Whatever he and Mystique were discussing, it was clearly something important. She remembered the woman he brought home with him more than once, even recalling when he visited alone for the first time. Naturally, young Barbara hadn’t thought much of it, probably having been told his lady friend had family or other business she had to attend to, so her visit wasn’t possible. Not long after that, Rothchild had been asked to leave and never return. Barbara had been more upset about that than anything else, since it involved her happiness. Never once had she considered her great-uncle’s happiness.
Due to the emotions of the day and needing to hold something, Barbara wrapped her arms around Artie, bringing him close. She just needed this contact in order to keep from going on an emotional rollercoaster once more. “Thank you for being here, Artie,” she told him softly.
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