un_gloved: (profile illustrated)
It was relatively easy to make yourself scarce in a place with no phones, no roads and no telepaths, and Rogue had found herself doing just that since the X-Men's arrival. She'd missed them all, fiercely, some more than others at varying times, but having a few of them finally there was daunting. She was pretty sure she was different, now. Two years of living like a normal human being, give or take a couple days, and being from so much earlier, as far as she knew, it worried her a little. She was worried it would put a barrier of more than just chronological distance between them. She was worried they would somehow attract all the same trouble they always did and ruin what was, she'd discovered, a pretty good thing she had going there.

Maybe she wasn't worried about all of them doing that. Jean probably wouldn't be stirring up much trouble for her. Actually, she wanted to sit down and talk with the other woman, but even the thought of that made her jumpy. So she was taking some time off, from pretty much everyone, just a day or two to clear her head- Ha! Like that ever happened easy. Or at all.- and try and get some perspective.

With both feet planted firmly on the ground. Used to be easier, didn't it?

Not wanting to walk the beach, she'd taken to the jungle, finding her way along paths that were barely there, relishing the quiet and the cool that came with being beneath the thicker parts of the canopy. Quiet and time, she figured, that was all she needed to get a handle on the turn her life had taken, or was possibly about to take, and fortunately they were two commodities the island held in abundance. Unfortunately, it wasn't working so well, so far. Her thoughts kept turning to one place in particular, and that place- person- happened to be the one she was least ready to confront.
un_gloved: (not coy; interested)
It hadn't taken a lot of digging around to find out where the tall guy with the green afro was sleeping, so at a reasonable hour- eight a.m.- Rogue headed down from her morning shower to greet her slave for a day. She hadn't seen him since the auction, and they hadn't discussed the terms of the agreement, but then, what was there to discuss? His butt was hers. And she had things that needed doing.

Eight in the morning seemed like the perfect time to start doing them.

"Avon callin'," she hummed to herself, lifting a hand to knock on the dormitory door.
un_gloved: (body)
Rogue was in an awkward position. Nevermind the fact that she'd told the Manchester cop she was a terrorist and had told Brodie Bruce that she had considered, even hypothetically, the idea of sleeping with him. Nevermind that it was May, which meant it would be the 25th of May, which meant... Nevermind. All of that aside, Rogue was in an awkward position. She was in a downward facing dog moving into a forearm stand, and there was always that moment where gravity was fighting your flow that pissed her off. She breathed, and kicked one leg up after the other until all of her weight was only on her forearms, and held it, and breathed, and then let one leg bend so her toes were almost in her field of vision.

She was going to find her gall dang center if it killed her. Of course, it wasn't easy to do on sand, and it was generally considered better for your chi to do this kind of thing as the sun was coming up, but hell with it, she'd slept it.

"Ooh," she huffed, as her balance wobbled. She grit her teeth together and carefully let the other leg bend so both sets of toes were in her vision. She couldn't feel her chakra worth a damn, but she could feel a rising level of frustration at the world.
un_gloved: (romance novels in bed)
The day had been pretty mediocre, but not terrible, until she'd run into the cop form Manchester, at which point it had slid sharply downward. She'd retreated to her room afterward, knowing Paige wasn't exactly up for conversation either, and changed into sleeping shorts and a pink t-shirt and had tried to read. She forced herself to read Jane Austen until she got too restless, at which point she fished out the bodice ripper she kept under the pile of clothes nearest her pillow, on the floor. That just made her a whole 'nother kind of restless, so she shoved it back, pulled on the crocheted, flat boots made out of a truly tacky silver-white kind of thread that she'd found- cheap rubber souls and a brand she didn't know, probably a knock off of a brand she should have- and headed upstairs.

Maybe there would be a movie. Maybe, once she was watching said movie, no one would try to talk to her.
un_gloved: (Default)
Rogue had been letting Ned make her clean up, because all it took was one night sleeping over for her to turn the hut into as big a mess as her own room. When everything was folded up and in a pile, on the chair of course, she'd sprawled out across his bed, guitar resting on her stomach, idly picking at the strings. Her head was tipped back and her hair was pooling on the floor, save the awkward chopped-off bit.

"You know any good songs, Watchman?" she asked, grinning up at him from her semi-upside down position, crossing her bare legs at the knee. With the Daisy Dukes and the yellow t-shirt, she almost looked naked beneath the guitar.
un_gloved: (ehee)
Rogue had been perusing the shelf for something to read on the beach when it provided her with two different periodicals. One had a picture of a southern wedding on the front- a bride on the steps of a plantation, surrounded by Spanish moss and lace.

The other was the Final Chapter of the Messiah CompleX! She shoved it in the back of the bridal book and flung herself down on the couch, biting her lower lip and starting to flip through the magazine portion, ignoring the comic pages in back.
un_gloved: (naked!)
Rogue had to admit, she really loved this part. The whole of it was... great, every time, which she'd heard wasn't always the case, but this part, the after part, was at least on par with the rest of it. The breeze was pulling gently on her skin and hair, their sweat was drying, she could feel his body slowing and listen to his breath. Yeah, this part was- was just swell.

"Mmn," she hummed softly, nuzzling his throat with the tip of her nose and nestling closer, fanning her fingers out over his chest and leaving her palm flat over his heart. The shilling was still warm against her collar bone.
un_gloved: (body)
Rogue had done laundry, and not just hers, but Ned's, which was super domestic and not something she intended on making a habit out of, but sort of secretly fun nonetheless. Mostly, she just couldn't wait to see the look on his face.

In sorting it, back at Ned's hut, she'd found some things that weren't theirs. Socks, a pair of polyester soccer shorts. And green thigh high stockings and a green leotard. They weren't hers, hers had been a different material, a slightly different cut. Still, she couldn't help the little wave of nostalgia and, grinning, she stripped down utterly and pulled them on.

Now she really couldn't wait to see the look on his face.
un_gloved: (close up)
Rogue had woken up tucked up in a patch of sun on the roof, which had probably seemed like a great idea when she could fly and thought she was seventeen, but a little older and even just a smidgen wiser and with a piece of slender useless wood in the sash of her tunic, it was lacking somehow in appeal.

It was all right, though, because she needed some time to be alone and deal with the previous day. There was Gunn, who was a swell guy and all, but he'd decked her in the face and the had the bruise to prove it. Of course, she'd elbowed him in the chin and left a hell of a mark herself. She had to apologize for that.

She also had to yell at him for kissing her, though. And letting her kiss him back. And to make sure he knew it wasn't gonna happen again.

And she had to apologize to Jamie.

And she had to find Ned.

His hair had the tell tale sign that it had recently been wet. He'd probably been swimming. She could smell the cigarette from where she was, and she wasn't even downwind.

She'd put the tunic and leggings in her room and changed back into her cutoff shorts and the long sleeved green hoodie, though she'd pushed the sleeves to her elbows, and she'd put her yellow boots back on though she'd kept the cowboy boots, too, and feeling that much more like herself she still felt in no way prepared to discuss the past day with Ned.

"'s a bad habit," she said, voice husky, like it was trying to avoid being used.
un_gloved: (smart cookie)
Rogue had had a pretty good day, considering the situation. Weird as it was, as much as it sucked to be stuck here and not have a damned idea about what was going on. But on the other hand, her head felt clear for the first time in ages, she could touch people without killing them, and the handy dandy magic wand tucked into the brown leather cowboy boot she'd found in that box in the basement along with the oversized orange tunic she was wearing had given her the ability fly.

So she was touring the island, hair trailing in the wind behind her like a banner, beaming into the sun and sea salt as she flew perhaps twenty feet above the ground by the beach.
un_gloved: (ickle rogue)
Rogue had been rather put out about the fact that her uniform was now way too big for her. Something about being eight made her want to dress up something fierce, and she couldn't even wear her boots. So, barefoot and in the turquoise skirt and tank top she'd appropriated from the box, she was set off around the compound. She had to go check and see if Paige was little or not, and then she had to see what she could and could not do on her lonesome. She'd promised Ned she'd find him again relatively quickly, but a girl needed time to strike out a bit, and anyway she was anxious to see who she'd run into that she knew who had also changed. She had the mental image of a six year old Wesley and it was fairly hilarious.

She brightened as she saw what might have been something even better down the hall.

"Hi," she called out to the vaguely familiar little boy.

sleep over

Jul. 2nd, 2007 11:50 am
un_gloved: (Default)
She'd gone over to see what his hut looked like and ended up spending the day. She couldn't remember time ever moving so fast in her life, but she sure didn't have a problem with it. Over the course of her life, she had attempted to go on dates, take leisure days, spend the time, but somehow it always seemed to end disastrously. The fact that this day didn't seem to be heading that route, that it had been nothing short of the sort of thing she'd dreamed of in her more private moments, well, she couldn't find herself anything but pleased by it. The sun was setting. When had the sun start to set? It had to be 9 o'clock, but then she reckoned it was summer, and the sun took its sweet slow time in summer.

She was leaned against the door frame, looking down the sand to the water, at the changing color of the sky, one arm bent above her head and the other draped on her hip, one leg absently tucked behind the other, shoulders prickling slightly with the late evening cool, uneven folds of her skirt brushing about her calves, tugging toward the sea.

"You sure picked a beautiful spot, Watchman."
un_gloved: (southern comfort)
Rogue had been good at pool before she got to the island. Now she was a master. She cracked the racked balls with one deft shot and sunk two. She gave a low, pleased whistle and moved around the table to set up her next one. The jukebox was playing an Emmylou Harris song. She'd finally gotten it to play real country.

"J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout. Ce que j'ai pu. J'ai fait tout, j'ai fait tout ce que j'ai pu.'
un_gloved: (Default)
Rogue had been having fun. Rictor had been far too easy- not to mention wholly enjoyable- and gotten the know it all out of the way, not that she had a chance. Chaos gave the little bit trouble? Rogue was all chaos.

Deep down.

It felt good to be out.

She was sitting on the rail of the Brooklyn Bridge, enjoying the breeze and imagining the possibilities of where the evening could go. Where life could go. With her prime unconscious for who knew how long, things were looking decidedly up, and she had a world of scores to settle. Brooklyn looked nice from across the river, and the seaport was quiet, only diners and the tourists drifting away from the mall. Westchester wasn't far. Neither was S.H.I.E.L.D., apparently, and there were some people over that way who needed badly to die.

"God as mah witness," she purred to the evening, and stood in preparation to fly.

test

Mar. 15th, 2007 12:51 am
un_gloved: (Default)


Lah-de-dah, li'l man, y'all got me shakin' in my boots. Only problem is,
 if anyone here is gonna get hurt -- it's you!

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Rogue

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