Feb. 19th, 2014

morethanhuman: i got to be right now (can only make me stronger)
It was February, but that apparently meant nothing to the powers that governed the weather at the Nexus. The view from Erik's window showed a gentle, tepid rain that suggested late spring, but when he got to the conservatory, the sun was beating down hard enough to warm the benches even through the glass.

There were miles of gardens outside, all apparently grateful for the late morning sunshine; every leaf and blade of grass seemed to be stretching upward, and Erik found himself in almost as good a mood. With a book tucked under his arm, an Adirondack chair trailing along in midair behind him, he stalked into the Italian gardens in search of a sunny spot by one of the fountains. After a year of recycled air and the blackness of space, even a few hours of uninterrupted sunlight felt like a luxury, and he intended to put them to good use.

Installed at last on a broad stretch of lawn, Erik stretched out in the chair, cracking open his book, a tome on the fall of the Roman Empire. He'd picked it up idly the other day, but found himself immersed, and he quickly became oblivious to everything around him as he lost himself in it again. The Roman Empire was not on the brink of collapse; what brought it to an end were the barbarians... In spite of himself, he wondered what Charles might have to say on the subject, and the parallels between the barbarians' role in the fall of Rome and the hopeful role of mutants (Erik's hope, anyway) in the fall of the human-dominated society of the present.

He read for over an hour, kicking off his shoes to let his toes curl into the grass as the sun rose steadily higher. He would have been content to stay there indefinitely, or at least until hunger drove him back indoors— but Erik knew when he was alone and when he wasn't, and he gradually became aware of another person on the edges of his periphery, a presence he found it increasingly difficult to ignore.

He was only half surprised to look up and find it was Charles, sitting there looking at him from across the lawn. The last time they'd crossed paths, Erik had spoken first, a glib opening that had set the tone for a bitter and unsatisfying conversation. This time, he'd let Charles play white. He stuck his finger in to mark his page and closed the book, his chin tilting up slightly as he met and held Charles's eye contact, waiting to see what he had to say.