Just Follow My Lead

Characters: Ororo Munroe, Jean Grey
Rated: PG (Language, mild romance)
Summary: A pair of X-Men contemplate the future while dancing among stars.
OOC Date: February 12th, 2018
IC Date: February 12th, 2018
Where: Storm's Attic - Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters - Westchester

A familiar pressure blooms within Ororo's skull in the early evening, not unlike a psychic ringtone.

~Are you busy?~ Jean wonders, as is her way. The wind-rider gets a snapshot view of a single box with 'JEAN' written across a face. ~Taking a break from looking for stuff to clean to pack, and, well. It's not the hardest job.~

Since hiding out in Ororo's attic - and meeting a sad reflection of herself in Rachel, and being chided/entertained by Luciana Gutierrez and her twin - she's done her best to maintain regular telepathic contact in lieu of more conventional means while finishing her climb out of the rideshare rental pit. At least some of this time would've been spent on long-belated holiday party planning, ideally; as for the rest…

~How do you feel about dancing?~

Killer robots, government conspiracies, and hateful mobs aside, there are some benefits to mutant telepathic powers when one is a broke woman in a long-distance relationship.

When the weather witch's brain receives that buzz, her body is occupied with the more mundane aspects of life. She's going through her closet, surveying her clothes. Presently, Ororo wears only her silk robe, the outfit of choice for someone who wishes to remain modest while traipsing around their own private indoor garden.

~I believe what the young people say is not 'Are you busy' but 'You up?'~ Ororo replies, a small smile crossing her lips and that emotion carrying through in the timbre of the thought. She doesn't share the specific view she's taking in, but rather, the impressions of the room around her: peaceful, still, smelling wonderful, and overall a little damp from generating rain indoors to water the planets.

Ororo takes one of her dresses and holds it against herself for a moment, looking down thoughtfully. At the same time, she responds to Jean in as completely assured a tone as any human or mutant mind has ever colored a thought: ~I love to dance.~

The room's textures - the natural fragrances, the sense of serenity, even that slight humidity - linger on as the room gradually fades to black. The smile Jean gives in turn touches Ororo's psyche wordlessly, in the meanwhile. Sightlessly, too— until it isn't, playfully turned and lightly painted lips manifesting a couple feet away between moments. Playfully turned and lightly painted lips and, also, the rest of Jean; no Cheshiring today, at least. Surrounded by the dim echoes of the room, she's dressed in old jeans and a mostly faded Zeppelin shirt with a green, gold-dotted bandana tied around her head.

~Aah, sorry! Next time; single-letter 'you' and all.~

Until she isn't. As she leans in to cup Ororo's face and plant a brisk kiss, the shirt lengthens into an off-shoulder green dress with a long, glittering skirt and carefully wound curls bounce out from underneath the bandana. By the time she pulls back, the last visible vestiges of the room are gone in favor of seemingly endless black generously studded with stars. Even the sense that there is a floor to stand on begins to fall away, but the scents, the serenity, and the subtle humidity continue to persist.

~But: good! I thought so, but I figured I'd at least ask, before…~ She makes few quick head gestures towards their starlit surroundings, and then - as she drops her hands to Ororo's shoulders - adds, ~I do take requests, though! Sonically, visually— gravitically…~

Music - orchestral, string-heavy, and likely compiled from bits and pieces of songs rattling around in Jean's subconscious - begins to fill the nonspace.

Ororo's hands touch Jean's hips as a base for that kiss. By the time the kiss is finished and that very gentle grip is released, Ororo's outfit has changed as well. No more static-electricity-swept mohawk and lounge-around robe… Ororo's hair has been combed down and to the side, leaving one side of her head bare but introducing an interesting new way of framing her punk coiffure as something classier. Similarly, intead of a robe, she now wears an evening gown suitable for the ballroom, simply designed but glittering under starlight, so much so that it's hard to tell if the original intent was silver or platinum.

Ororo's hands move to Jean's waist and instantly the windrider settles into a leading position… as if she ever plays the follow part during couples dancing. ~Your vision of space is gorgeous,~ Ororo notes with a smile. ~You have taken a cold vaccuum and redresed it into something warm and intimate. Your mind at work… I would not dare get in the way of such a powerful engine.~ Maybe Ororo is teasing a little, maybe she's keeping it a buck. It's always kind of hard to tell, but it's even kind of hard to tell in direct telepathic transmission. Something to ponder while Ororo begins to lead, in a bit of a half-formed waltz to start as the music takes shape.

Jean in turn settles into following out of either habit or anticipation.

Beyond the mood struck by starlight and nature, warmth literally begins to permeate the void as the dance begins. It's slight— just enough to banish thoughts of winter. ~Thank you, but I did have some help,~ she notes as her smile broadens and her hand squeezes Ororo's. ~I was thinking about the stars up there, how much more vivid they are… watching them with you… how gorgeous everything smells… I'm guessing you're in your attic, right?~

As she draws herself a bit nearer, anticipatory excitement plays across her features. ~It'll be— nice to be there again, sans, like. Guilt,~ she adds, still smiling even as that last word draws a small wince. ~Plus permanence! I just need to figure out where to send my key-slash-thank you card, if I can't get a hold of my landlady.~

A small, thoughtful pause as she glances towards a nearby constellation, and then—

~Also, maybe, what - if anything - we tell, like. Everyone?~ she quietly tacks on.

~I am,~ Ororo confirms when Jean asks about her current whereabouts. She doesn't give Jean any inkling as to what she's up to. In fact, she seems to have intentionally partitioned that aspect of her experience away from what she's sharing.

~It will be nice to have you back home,~ Ororo thinks as her arm moves to hold Jean and keep her closer when the redhead moves in. The dance isn't a complicated one, and improvisations and flourishes are a bit cut off by the necessity of staying so close together.

When Jean asks what to tell the others, Ororo has to think for a moment. Her blue eyes, with their catlike pupils, meet Jean's. Her expression is just a bit quizzical, like she's trying to tease out something Jean might have meant but not said. ~I had anticipated simply telling them the truth, without varnish,~ Ororo thinks. Of course to the serene goddess figure it would be that simple. ~Or maybe just kissing you in front of everyone at the welcome home party,~ she adds, making it clear she's just teasing to earn a psychic blush.

In lieu of flourishes, Jean sets the hand not clasping Ororo's on the goddess' back so she can fondly draw her fingers up and down along it as they step, twirl— and gradually tilt through the void.

Quizzical cat's eyes find mild uncertainty and the straightforward response that follows draws Jean's gaze momentarily upwards as a a small, laughlike sound escapes her nostrils. ~Well, may— ~ she begins to think before the suggestion is followed.

~Ororo— !~ accompanies reddening cheeks, a flush that briefly touches the void, and a grin. ~I mean, that would be efficient…~ After a little bit of exaggeratedly thoughtful head-bobbing that sends already drifting red curls splaying outwards, she brings her hand up to hold the back of the wind-rider's neck.

~Truth, no varnish is— that'd be nice and simple, obviously. I just… I guess I don't want people thinking…~ After drifting for a moment of consideration, she murmurs, ~I feel like there are going to be… mm, assumptions? About me and my ability to cope with… well, anything? Given— everything. If only in the short-term.~ Frowning, she closes her eyes and gives herself another moment.

~We're kind of mid-leap of faith,~ she quietly tries while squeezing Ororo's hand to try and off-set her tentative words, ~and I don't really care who knows it, but I also don't want people worrying because they figure I'm— I dunno, fragile, or something, or— ~ After she cuts herself off to fill lungs that aren't there, the exhale is mixed with a lengthy, exasperated groan.

~Truth,~ she then repeats while all but closing her eyes and trying to focus letting the goddess' serenity soothe her own anxieties, ~no varnish— and-or just letting them figure it out. Sorry— almost did that thing where I kill the mood, again.~ After a smaller breath, she adds, ~I'd rather not sneak around as if we're doing something wrong, anyway; I like being around you too much for that.~

Ororo moves one hand so that she can cup Jean's chin and touch her forehead to the other woman's, or at least a psychic representation of her forehead to a psychic representation of Jean's. ~If someone asks, we will tell them. I see no need for us to put a press release in every mailbox.~ Ororo closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them again to meet Jean's eyes at point-blank range.

~Only the foolish would see you as fragile,~ Ororo observes, with complete assurance in her thoughts. ~And if they do? Then they should not be worried anyway, because you have me taking care of you.~ Ororo smiles, and gives Jean a quick but affectionate kiss.

The dance continues as space drifts around them, not moored to any particular planar axis of movement. ~Which is true, by the way. If you have any doubts… just follow my lead.~

~Oh, God,~ quickly follows the thought of press releases, self-conscious mirth flickering in green eyes, ~that'd be a bit much— yeah, no, we definitely don't need to announce it or anything,~ and Jean's shoulders fall in visible relief. Ororo's hyperbole was taken for was it was, but some lesser degree of sitting teammates/colleagues down for A Talk of some stripe was lingering amidst other edification options.

After she's kissed - and has leaned in to kiss in turn - the fingers on Ororo's neck drift curiously into the formally styled mohawk. ~I see me as fragile, now, sometimes,~ she quietly admits, ~but having you to help me focus, find calm… it does help.~ Smiling, she cants her head a little and lets her eyes rove visibly up and down the silver-or-platinum-garbed goddess before musing, ~Even here, you're so composed, so sure of not just yourself, but everything…~ and letting admiration further warm the void. ~How do you do it? How can you be so consistently… certain?~

~I wish I had an easy trick to share,~ Ororo says, letting Jean's eyes rove and even flashing a small smile at it. ~It is a matter of asking yourself questions, and working to find the answers. When I was young, I left Cairo as a thief to find myself, and I became a goddess. When I left Kenya to come to Xavier's, I became an X-Man… and so on. Changes to my circumstances, changes in my role, have certainly helped me discover who I am at my center, regardless of whether I am a thief, a goddess, an X-Man, or a dance partner.~

Ororo twirls Jean now, which makes the stars spin a bit faster than expected, as gravity and the laws of motion are not strictly adhered to in a psychic sorta-void. ~And if you can look at yourself plainly… that is the hard part. From there, looking out at the rest of the world is considerably easier.~

Ororo is content to dance for a moment, and then follows up… ~I hope you have not already made plans for Valentine's Day, by the way.~

Ororo's explanation earns small nods of acknowledgment, a contemplative gaze, and - eventually - a brisk peal of laughter when the twirl sets red hair fluttering out without abandon. Jean grips the goddess' shoulder as soon as she's stable so she can draw herself back in against Ororo with a sigh and another nod.

~You've lived a hell of a life,~ she admiringly murmurs while looking up at the goddess. A bit louder, she continues, ~Being back in a familiar setting should help, some; being alone down he— in the city— it's draining, I dunno how Logan does it,~ before joining the wind-rider's lead in just dancing. At the follow up, she smiles and laughs again as her eyes shift downwards.

~I was thinking I'd check out this cool little botanical garden upstate, actually,~ she murmurs while drawing her hand along Ororo's shoulder, ~where the owner seeds tiny rain clouds to water all the plants, and walks around in these silk robes…~

Back to: Logs Page.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License