Midnight Shadows Guided Games GENEsis: DOFP Genesis In Character Days of Future Past [Mutants] Paint It, Black [Terry / Jamie]


09-14-2019
08:30 PM
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09-14-2019, 08:30 PM
[In-Character] [Post #11]
It was taunting, and his motions didn’t help that. If anything, he purposely moved to exacerbate the feeling. Water slipped over his shoulders as he pushed his hands through his hair. The buff colored tile splattered red intermittently, a color that sometimes tinted burnt clay in between moments. If only he could wash the duplicate’s personality and memories form his mind the way he could scrub the dirt and blood from his skin. In time, just like before, just like any of the others. The longer any of them existed away from him, the more individual they seemed to grow. A duplicate cast into existence for an hour was little more than just a second extension of him. But days and year wore on a mind, just as it would any other living thing.

She set her elbow on her knee, then rested her chin on her upturned palm as she continued to simply watch him. She could easily keep her eyes on him and let her mind wander, but the often subject of her mind’s wanderlust was directly in front of her. He didn’t really even look much different than he had the last she had seen him save for the somewhat thinner frame and the fatigue rings about his eyes. The blue in his irises though, they were as they were meant to be, bright, alive.

He lathered soap into his hair and it sluiced around him the moment he stepped back into the spray, some manner of contented sound purring up from his chest. For about the hundredth time in less than an hour, she wondered when he had last been allowed to shower. It had been obvious that few-if any-of the theater trusted him, but he hadn’t appeared completely ill kept. Locks about his wrists, blood running the length of his chin. Still, he had at least appeared having been given something clean to wear.

His form tensed for little longer than a few fluttering seconds and she felt herself about rise up from the tank she sat perched on to chase away whatever invisible threat seemed to have shaken him. And then he sighed, turned just slightly towards her and she took physical stock, searching for something that might have- and then she tilted her head. The hint of a smile tipped her lips and she let her eyes slide shut, as though she could lock away the sight before her against the backs of her eyelids.

And then he just stood there.

Water continued to slip about his skin, through his hair, and he just stood there.

He seemed to gather himself when the heat apparently began to wane, the pipes lagging or the water heater turning over to attempt another refill. He reached for a towel and she refused to help him, thinking it more stabilizing to remain where she was. She’d likely roll an ankle if she pushed herself to her feet at the moment.

“Nothing extravagant.” She replied, chasing the new subject offered that detoured her thoughts from him directly, even as her eyes tracked every inch of him that the towel worked at blotting. “There’s a simple cooler that’s kept running most of the year.” A place for fishermen to lightly stock anything they pulled from the harbor or deeper waters.

He stepped away from the shower and wrapped the towel about his hips, to her dismay, and then glanced at the simple clothing she had opted for from the selection she had been afforded. Then he stepped towards the sink and it put her in reaching distance, if she happened to feel adventurous enough to reach for him.

She snorted lightly when he offered his assessment about the way that she smelled. She likely smelled of wet grass and sage since she had ported them to the field out front. “I’ll be sure to roll about on the lawn ev’ry mornin’.” She pushed herself up then, for a moment forgetting her newly ingrained balance and sense, and allowed herself a moment to gauge his presence. She reached for the simple t-shirt and held it out to him until he compliantly put his arms somewhat towards her, allowing her to push it over his arms and head. She took a step toward shim to settle the hem at his hips and she stared at the point where his shirt overlapped the towel about his waist. “I’m sure there’s enough for a sandwich or two, maybe a piece of fruit.” She told him, struggling to raise her eyes upward. “What do ye want?”
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09-15-2019
03:21 PM
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09-15-2019, 03:21 PM
[In-Character] [Post #12]
Jamie didn’t really care how extravagant his food would be, as long as it was edible and filled his now rumbling stomach, he would be fine. So, this place had a small fridge, which would help with keeping the perishable edibles from… perishing. God, his mind was tired. And the way Terry was looking at him…

“I rather you roll around in my bed.” He murmured, but she didn’t take the bait. No instead she got up from her spot on the toilet tank and helped him get dressed. So, not what he had in mind, but he let her help him put his shirt on.

It was slightly a bit too large on his frame, but he figured that he would fill it out given time.

Terry was so close to him now, the scent of freshly cut grass that she had been hinting at reached his nose and he breathed it in deeply. She was holding on to his shirt, looking down at it and he knew that if she kept looking like that his body would start responding. He was already having a hard time not to with her this close.

She told him that there would be enough for a sandwich or two, and he just nodded. Okay. Good.

“You.” He told her, his hand coming up and finding a strand of her hair to curl it around his finger. Jamie sighed, the silkiness bringing forth a memory of happier times. One where they had both been on their backs, looking up at the sky, her head on his chest and his fingers playing with her hair.

Those days had come and gone. Now he was left with a monster inside his head, and a woman who refused to touch him because she didn’t want to share him with that monster in his head. He couldn’t blame her. The things Steven Lang had done… No. Not here, not when Terry was standing this close to him. He didn’t want to ruin this moment by dragging up horrors.

“I should put on those sweatpants.” He murmured, dropping the silky strand of hair. “Unless you want to help me with that as well.”
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09-16-2019
02:53 AM
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09-16-2019, 02:53 AM
[In-Character] [Post #13]
He was not making any manner of keeping to herself easy. He murmured in her ear, offered words meant just for her, his fingers found every opportunity to touch her hair or her hands. From the very moment Caitlin had told her that he had been found, she had wanted to cross the ocean. Caitlin had said she would convey to him how to bring her there. So, she had waited. And waited. And then she had wondered if perhaps what she had still felt was all settled in the center of her own chest. Time changed people, offered new opportunities, new connections, new possibilities. She had wondered after the thought that perhaps he had moved on with his life. That maybe he had left that island and never looked back, never considered what lay in his wake.

Regardless of the goddess living locked within her skin and bones, her mind was still mortal. Mutant, but still mortal. She still experienced every emotion that she had before becoming more than what she had been. She was still her. She still felt what she felt for him. The Morrigan built an invisible armor around her, whispered truths, solidified her will. Yet it all seemed to fall away when he was put directly before her.

You.

It was offered quietly, like a confession.

He lifted a hand form his side and curled a tendril of her hair about his finger. She watched it slide between his thumb and fore knuckle, catching in the pale light that the tiny cabin afforded. Her head tipped slightly as though she could hold onto the sound of that singular word a bit longer in her thoughts if she physically tried to keep it locked in her thoughts.

What he wanted was her.

She drew her lower lip slightly between her teeth.

When he tried to speak again, it was to reference the sweatpants that she had brought into the tiny alcove of a bathroom. “That’s probably a good idea.” She agreed, her fingers rolling into the towel still sitting tucked around his hips.

She made herself look up at him as she reached for the sweatpants. There were so many things that she wanted to tell him, fill in the large gaping gap of time that had stretched out between the last moment she had seen him and the moment she had arrived in the cell of the theater. There were things that she wanted him to know, wanted him to hear from her. But none more than wanting him to be assured that she wanted him seemingly the way he still wanted her.

But she wanted him.

Jamie.

She didn’t want Jamie plagued by the likes of a duplicate that raked its influence across people with enough chaos to leave his mind shaken. Terry undid the loosely secured towel, let it fall away form him and puddle on the floor about his feet. “You need to put these on.” She looked up at him again. “Please.” And there was a hint of desperation in her voice.
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09-19-2019
08:09 PM
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09-19-2019, 08:09 PM
[In-Character] [Post #14]
Three days later...

Jamie sat on his knees on the roof of the cabin he had claimed as his own for now. After last night’s rain, he had found out the hard way that the thing was leaking. And since the weather in Ireland was unpredictable, he had gotten himself supplies and was now in the process of fixing the roof.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed to himself that he had gotten more than he needed, so, he might as well have a look at the other three cabins and see in fixing those roofs as well. The sun was out, making it warmer than he had expected, and at some point, he had lost his shirt.

He was tearing off old roof tiles, ones that had cracks in them or holes, tried to patch up the best he could before sticking a new roof tile on it and making sure it wouldn’t let any water through.

Going over the whole roof, making sure he hadn’t missed anything, he went over to the next cabin and repeated what he had done for his own. All the while his mind wandered back to the day he had arrived, and Terry had resisted him over and over. He understood why, he could even get behind it, but at the same time he felt rejected. She had pleaded with him to get dressed, like her control had been faltering.

The way she had sounded, it had pushed a memory to the front, and it hadn’t been his. No, that monster had surfaced and had shown him what he did with women who pleaded with him. It had made him sick.

He had barely managed to get Terry out of the way before he had emptied his stomach in the toilet.

So, yes, he understood why she refused him.

Jamie took the hammer and started to lift a few rotten tiles, cleaning the surface, he then continued to use this special mixture before putting new roof tiles over it. He worked on this roof until it was late in the afternoon, it had been in worse shape than his cabin had been. He sat up straight, felt something shift in his back and he groaned. He hadn’t done manual labour in a long time, and his back was protesting. Loudly.

But at the same time it was helping him clear his mind, keep him busy, and getting a control over the memories.

He had no idea why Lang had such an impact on him, with his other dupes he just downloaded the information and stored it away. Lang, however, kept trying to push to the forefront whenever he could. Which told Jamie that this hadn’t been a normal dupe to begin with.

Reaching for his water bottle, he took a few swallows and then poured some over his head, trying to cool down. Shaking the excessive water from his hair, his stomach started to rumble. Perhaps he should eat, before going over to the next cabin.
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Yesterday
02:31 AM
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Yesterday, 02:31 AM
[In-Character] [Post #15]
“It’s a three.” A voice drew her out of her observation over the half dozen children some fifty meters below her at a small pond. “It’s always a three.”

Then Terry turned enough to take in the sight of the burgundy brunette barely four steps away form her. Wanda stood similarly to her, arms limp at her sides, her gaze cast downward towards the children, a smile would at times tug at the corners of her mouth.

“Three is safe.” Wanda continued, then looked up across the simple space to lock onto her. “Sometimes he makes it better.” She tipped her head slightly as though she were trying to better listen to someone speaking against her ear. “But sometimes you bring out the darkness in more than the shadows around you.” Wanda lifted her left hand from her side and her fingers appeared to slowly tap out…something. “Trying to find you.”

It wasn’t the first time the other woman had appeared within conversing range. The ‘why’ and the ‘how’ were often questionable, though sense often revealed itself. The why, she sighed, was attributed to the abilities the other woman possessed. It was such an odd thing to endow the likes of a fractured minded mutant with the powers she possessed, but perhaps Wanda simple seemed fractured. There was a whisper of other to the taller woman that only the presence inside of her could really ponder after.

“Who’s trying to find me?” She finally took the bait.

And then Wanda smiled as if she knew some great secret that she was not overly inclined to share. “Less is it who isn’t.”

Terry shook her head and turned towards the trees, moving directly for the long shadows they cast.

“Do you want soap?” Wanda teased her back, conjuring what appeared to be a green bar of soap and then a loofah. “He might smell better that way.”

She stepped further, fully aware the moment she had reached the shadowy reach and pulled herself through, only to be pushed back out in the shade of one of the rowan trees that skirted the cabins near the bay. He was up on one of the roofs, water bottle in hand, its contents skating down his bare back and chest. Ah, she understood the offer for the soap in some manner, then.

He had yet to move on from the cabin and she wondered if he saw it as a small safe place, or if he was subconsciously resigning himself to another prison.

“Are ye plannin’ to set up a post box soon, Jamie Madrox?” She called up to him as she moved closer to the roof he occupied. “Do ye do anythin’ with a shirt on?” Because seriously, it was warm, but she didn’t think it was hot enough to start removing layers. And she was wearing black. “A break, maybe?”
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