#muse:feralweapon

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

⠀ ⠀THE WORLD TILTED ON THE AXIS AROUND HIM.

⠀ ⠀A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, a constant reminder of the excesses of the previous night. There were strains in his body-- various muscles calling for attention, others for rest. Erik lays on his side-- he never does. And there was warmth-- he never feels that in the morning hours. ⠀ ⠀Neither is the feel of strong, hairy muscle and the faint outline of metal under flesh a common sensation to find under his palms. ⠀ ⠀The usual expanse of his white strands now were dishevelled magnetic clouds and curls that weave and twist against the soft pillows down the nape of his neck.

⠀ ⠀The world, for a brief moment, was a blurred canvas of sensations. The scent of alcohol and sweat clung to the air, a cloying miasma. Everything tilted on its axis were it not for the familiar grasp of the magnetic north anchored in him.

⠀ ⠀Within a second of feeling the second presence, the master of magnetism is upright in bed. He is starteled with pure panic. The his room groans with a metallic cacophony. Nails bend in the walls. The bed's bolts creak threateningly. Logan can feel the flicker of, regrettably too familiar, magnetic charge rolling over his skin, making his hairs stand.

⠀ ⠀Fairly certain that last night he got to know that sensation from a whole different perspective.

⠀ ⠀A cold dread settled over Erik as consciousness seeped back into his mind. He felt the air in his lungs contract and his hands go ice-cold with terror. He opened his eyes, the world snapping into focus with startling clarity. The oppressive scent of-- no, the presence of another man beside him – all these elements coalesced into a single, terrifying realization. -- Only broken memories of the passed night.

⠀ ⠀"Schlump*...." comes the low mutter to himself.

⠀ ⠀The metals that had risen to his call dropped. Erik lay his face into his hands with a soft groan. But he had the presence of mind to cover himself with the blanket they shared.

⠀ ⠀" Krikhn zol er afn boykh "

*pathetic human being *May he crawl on his belly.

-- @feralweapon ||

Warmth. Besides Logan was a body. Who it was didn’t matter. Not anymore. That’s what it was most nights. Anyone who was willing. Just someone to feed the starving loneliness. That’s why, when that person stirred beside him, he hardly flinches. No. He’s used to that song and dance.

As his hand grazed a firm muscle, Logan pauses.

Oh. Male.

Not new territory there. While he was used to a more supple and soft body beside him after a binge, a man wasn’t an unwelcome presence either.

Logan opened his eyes and drearily glanced at the surroundings. This…. wasn’t the mansion… The stench of liquor and sweat hung in the room. The headache from the hangover was almost gone just as quickly as it came. But suddenly, something familiar. No. Someone.

He almost falls off the bed when his senses finally catch up to him.

"Oh fuck. Fuck! Shit. No fucking way."

@magnetic-regent-magneto | the morning after

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

THEY BET ON LOSING DOGS.

⠀ ⠀"You are right."

⠀ ⠀Logan knows the rotten streak in the honorable ideas of the master of magnetism. The god of fire would scorch up the forests to keep the animals warm. The saying 'I bet on losing dogs' is perhaps too literal.

⠀ ⠀"There are little allies to the cause of survival. I seek those that cannot sit still to watch by. I know you couldn't. Do not pretend to play by rules." Erik glares pointedly at that. Not that Logan pretends much but his conciousness made him remind the man-- that he is not playing by Charles' rules when he is not watching.

⠀ ⠀They cannot disown what is theirs-- they dilute it down, try to slither past nature, ideals and cynicism. Time teaches them better. What has Magneto done since the X-Men have gone awry? Licked wounds and tended to his retirement fund?

⠀ ⠀"And before you say anything I do not seek some mindless brute-- there is Sabretooth for that. I know you can do better."

-- @feralweapon ||

WILD BEASTS. HUNTED. Magneto's gaze lingered on the telltale tension in the man's posture, the clenched fists that betray his simmering rage. This is a creature of instinct, a wild beast forever tethered to the cage of his past-- one forever straining against the bars of its prison.

If they were anything-- they were tectonic plates under immense pressure. Always under one another's skin. One side ... perhaps more than the other.

Magneto let go of his powers that reach for Wolverine-- the scent of ozone being a lingering echo.

"You are not wrong. Peace is a naive dream. We have done things that will never allow us peace. But there are many innocent mutants that have not. I would be remiss not to fight for those that cannot earn their own peace-- for those that cannot fight in this coliseum."

He circles the mutant slowly. The factories have a faint hum in the distance-- hiding places of resistance groups against mutants. These are the fruits of peace, the cowering remnants of a species deemed inferior. A predator schooling a cub?

"You stand among all this chaos, this destruction of our kind ... and you choose that I am the problem. I merely wish to eradicate that which is a blight-- perhaps same as you. There is another path, of course. A path where we arrange our own destiny. Not as pawns, but as… conquerors..."

-- @feralweapon ||

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

⠀ ⠀WHAT KIND OF GRUELING TRUTH WAS PRESSING TO THE BASE OF HIS NECK?

⠀ ⠀Erik slowly turns his head from the cradling depths of his hands to look into the mirror in the corner of his room and sees what he had expected. Markings. Bites, cuts and bruises that rivaled any combat he had engaged in before and survived. Every muscle groaned and strained with a weight that was not there. His sixth sense was covered in an odd fog.

⠀ ⠀It felt sour, bitter and toxic on his tongue that was dry yet-- salty. Erik should laugh at the absurdity of remembering the way claws grabbed his throat, threatening trachea and airways. And he had only been amused by falling into the woes of grabbing, holding, cradling, shoving, scratching and biting. Erik checks the bridge of his nose instincitvely. Unbroken. His ribs without holes. Not the comfort of knowing it was, in fact, a fight. His hands felt sticky.

⠀ ⠀His magnetic curls pulse and drop over his marked shoulders. At least Logan wore boxers. Erik very much ... did not.

⠀ ⠀" impulsive, drunken depression and rage twisted to lust. " Erik tries to piece together but his own strained, deep and growling voice seeped with hoarse roughness.

-- @feralweapon ||

⠀ ⠀THE WORLD TILTED ON THE AXIS AROUND HIM.

⠀ ⠀A dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, a constant reminder of the excesses of the previous night. There were strains in his body-- various muscles calling for attention, others for rest. Erik lays on his side-- he never does. And there was warmth-- he never feels that in the morning hours. ⠀ ⠀Neither is the feel of strong, hairy muscle and the faint outline of metal under flesh a common sensation to find under his palms. ⠀ ⠀The usual expanse of his white strands now were dishevelled magnetic clouds and curls that weave and twist against the soft pillows down the nape of his neck.

⠀ ⠀The world, for a brief moment, was a blurred canvas of sensations. The scent of alcohol and sweat clung to the air, a cloying miasma. Everything tilted on its axis were it not for the familiar grasp of the magnetic north anchored in him.

⠀ ⠀Within a second of feeling the second presence, the master of magnetism is upright in bed. He is starteled with pure panic. The his room groans with a metallic cacophony. Nails bend in the walls. The bed's bolts creak threateningly. Logan can feel the flicker of, regrettably too familiar, magnetic charge rolling over his skin, making his hairs stand.

⠀ ⠀Fairly certain that last night he got to know that sensation from a whole different perspective.

⠀ ⠀A cold dread settled over Erik as consciousness seeped back into his mind. He felt the air in his lungs contract and his hands go ice-cold with terror. He opened his eyes, the world snapping into focus with startling clarity. The oppressive scent of-- no, the presence of another man beside him – all these elements coalesced into a single, terrifying realization. -- Only broken memories of the passed night.

⠀ ⠀"Schlump*...." comes the low mutter to himself.

⠀ ⠀The metals that had risen to his call dropped. Erik lay his face into his hands with a soft groan. But he had the presence of mind to cover himself with the blanket they shared.

⠀ ⠀" Krikhn zol er afn boykh "

*pathetic human being *May he crawl on his belly.

-- @feralweapon ||

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

WILD BEASTS. HUNTED. Magneto's gaze lingered on the telltale tension in the man's posture, the clenched fists that betray his simmering rage. This is a creature of instinct, a wild beast forever tethered to the cage of his past-- one forever straining against the bars of its prison.

If they were anything-- they were tectonic plates under immense pressure. Always under one another's skin. One side ... perhaps more than the other.

Magneto let go of his powers that reach for Wolverine-- the scent of ozone being a lingering echo.

"You are not wrong. Peace is a naive dream. We have done things that will never allow us peace. But there are many innocent mutants that have not. I would be remiss not to fight for those that cannot earn their own peace-- for those that cannot fight in this coliseum."

He circles the mutant slowly. The factories have a faint hum in the distance-- hiding places of resistance groups against mutants. These are the fruits of peace, the cowering remnants of a species deemed inferior. A predator schooling a cub?

"You stand among all this chaos, this destruction of our kind ... and you choose that I am the problem. I merely wish to eradicate that which is a blight-- perhaps same as you. There is another path, of course. A path where we arrange our own destiny. Not as pawns, but as… conquerors..."

-- @feralweapon ||

Stillness. Magneto does not dare breathe.

He knows Wolverine's temper.

And he knows his own.

His magnetism let briefly tickle along the metal of Logan's bones. A reminder. The cerulean gaze of the master of magnetism is steady, staring at Logan as he speaks, his jaw set tense.

"Hundreds of wars, you say, Logan? A veritable tapestry of human conflict, woven with the blood of countless generations. And yet, it seems you haven't learned the first lesson from any of them. I am not the one sending children into war. I wish to keep it away from them. It is not I that painted those targets you speak of."

He circles the barbarian, the weight of his presence heavy in the air.

"There are those amongst them, the Xaviers of the world, who see the potential for peace. Naive, perhaps, but a potential nonetheless. And then there are the others, the Medici who built empires on the backs of the downtrodden. These are the ones we must target, these are the cracks we must exploit."

"Do you truly believe history offers a symphony of peaceful resolutions? Tell me, Logan, when was the last time a lamb convinced the wolf to forgo its meal? When did the anvil plead successfully with the hammer to remain unmolded? They paint those targets on children, because we are mutants. By our very nature, a deviation from the norm. A challenge to the established order. Peace is a fragile dream spun by the naive, a lullaby sung to children who haven't yet seen the true face of the world."

"We are not lambs, Logan, to be led to the slaughter."

-- @feralweapon ||

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

Stillness. Magneto does not dare breathe.

He knows Wolverine's temper.

And he knows his own.

His magnetism let briefly tickle along the metal of Logan's bones. A reminder. The cerulean gaze of the master of magnetism is steady, staring at Logan as he speaks, his jaw set tense.

"Hundreds of wars, you say, Logan? A veritable tapestry of human conflict, woven with the blood of countless generations. And yet, it seems you haven't learned the first lesson from any of them. I am not the one sending children into war. I wish to keep it away from them. It is not I that painted those targets you speak of."

He circles the barbarian, the weight of his presence heavy in the air.

"There are those amongst them, the Xaviers of the world, who see the potential for peace. Naive, perhaps, but a potential nonetheless. And then there are the others, the Medici who built empires on the backs of the downtrodden. These are the ones we must target, these are the cracks we must exploit."

"Do you truly believe history offers a symphony of peaceful resolutions? Tell me, Logan, when was the last time a lamb convinced the wolf to forgo its meal? When did the anvil plead successfully with the hammer to remain unmolded? They paint those targets on children, because we are mutants. By our very nature, a deviation from the norm. A challenge to the established order. Peace is a fragile dream spun by the naive, a lullaby sung to children who haven't yet seen the true face of the world."

"We are not lambs, Logan, to be led to the slaughter."

-- @feralweapon ||

To be a fool or to be dead.

Or to be a dead fool.

The jibe makes his brow twitch.

"You are right." The master of magnetism settles and stares intently at Wolverine.

"I should beg for forgiveness, on my knees in front of my oppressors, grovelling for their abuse, bowing my head in penance for daring to think that my kind deserves to live. After all, historically, there were many successful peaceful uprisings, so many oppressors beaten by talking to them until they played nice." Sarcasm, and a snarky mocking, drips from his words.

"Perhaps you've forgotten, or perhaps it's convenient for you to forget. Shall I recount the endless treaties broken, the hollow promises shattered? Tell me, Logan, when humanity rounded up mutants and branded them freaks, was that the 'right' choice? When they herded us into concentration camps, was that a preferable alternative?"

He steps forward patiently, hands behind his back.

"As I have said to Charles before. 'Better to not lead, than to lead in the wrong direction'... And he is leading our kind to its doom by teaching you to lay down like a dog, ready to die. I will not stand for it."

-- @feralweapon ||