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ax_main2018-04-05 03:12 am
ax_submariner) wrote in ax_main2018-04-05 03:12 am
Entry tags:
Namor and Ororo, Backdated to 4/5
Namor meets a woman while flying, who seems fairly amused with him, all considered.
Ororo wasn't out flying as much as some of the other flight-capable students. She did love it - especially when she found Jeanne-Marie out here - but it was just one of the many aspects of her mutation that she loved exploring. But when she was traveling across the grounds, there was no reason to walk when she could be flying.
Today, she was coming back from checking in on her herbs, eyes white as the wind carried her back towards the mansion, in a simple brown tank top and gray jeans. She was tired of wearing warm clothing, and had taken to fiddling with her body temperature more as the cold lingered.
Of course, compared to the only other person flying in the vicinity right then, she was wearing a lot.
"Hello," she greeted the pointy-eared white boy who was most definitely not Jean-Paul, once they were within earshot. Her tone was friendly as she added, amused, "I don't think we've met."
Still wearing his green-scaled briefs with the golden belt, Namor turned to greet the newcomer once he'd noticed her, which was about when she had called out to him. The way things moved around her... was she manipulating the wind? Fascinating. Namor halted his fight and more or less stood where he was, one knee bent and his ankle-wings supporting him.
"Greetings," he said, not surprised at the difference in the woman's skin color to his own (he had been educated quite thoroughly on surfacers after all). "We have not as of yet met. I am Namor the First, prince of Atlantis," he said, somehow both with and without pride. As if it was simply a fact, but an impressive and altogether acceptable one at that.
"Yes, I heard about you," Ororo acknowledged with a nod and a small smile. She still had a noticeable accent, English clearly not being her native language. "I'm Ororo. Ororo Munroe." Her smile grew a little more amused, still, because of the other prince she was thinking of, and the many things she had called him. "How am I supposed to address you?"
She had been polite to ask, which made him feel rather magnanimous. "Given the situation in which I find myself, Namor is sufficient," he said. "It would be problematic, potentially, if we were in public and I were addressed as royalty," Namor pointed out.
Ororo pursed her lips skeptically. "There are worse problems out there." For one thing, few people would actually believe it out of the blue.
Especially if he was dressed like that.
"But it's a good idea, anyway. Anything else and people might accuse you of being snooty."
"One of the myriad reasons I was sent here was to begin to cement relations with surfacers; I believed it best to start at a personal level," Namor said. "One of my long-term plans for my reign as Emperor is to bring Atlantis into the world theater, and I should be familiar with surfacer customs and persons when doing so." To Namor, that was the best explanation he could offer.
"...so that's a 'yes, Ororo, I think you're right'?" Ororo checked, doing nothing to hide her amusement.
"It was an agreement that we were thinking along the same lines," Namor returned, cocking his head slightly.
"You think I'm right," Ororo concluded, now clearly teasing him. "You don't want to be the stuck up prince around here."
"I think that... we are both right," Namor said, brow furrowed somewhat. "You are correct about me not wanting to appear stuck up, but that was... something I had determined before coming here," he said. This entire thing was confusing, unless... "Are you teasing me?" he asked, his expression somewhat amused, himself. Had he just now caught on?
Ororo smiled frankly at him. "You're kind of asking for it."
The fire in Namor's throat was gone, seeing that smile. "I suppose I may well be," Namor admitted. "My grandfather is... a traditionalist. I look to him, sometimes even aware of how foolish it is, with how I should comport myself. Things are... very different, here on the surface."
"I'd love to hear about it some day," Ororo told him honestly. "What things are like down below, I mean."
He gave her a small smirk. "I would love to tell you of it," he said. "We are a ... very different people. Stronger, hardier. But ... I have seen things in my education that hint that we are not as superior as my grandfather would say. Things will change, in time, in Atlantis, under my reign. But that will not be for many years. So for now, I wait, and I plan, and I learn of the surface."
Yes, that 'Atlantean superiority' mindset was going to have to go, Ororo thought. It was a good thing that she truly believed 'surfacers' had a few things to show him. Hopefully, in time, Namor would see. "Don't underestimate us," she advised him gently. "We'll surprise you yet."
"I would be a fool to underestimate anyone," Namor said, that more aloof tone creeping into his voice. "But surfacers especially, considering that I owe half my lineage to the surface."
"Really?" Ororo flew a little closer out of curiosity. His culture sounded incredibly certain of its superiority over surfacers, and here he was, half one. "That sounds lonely."
"The life of royalty is one of distance from one's subjects," Namor said, careful from keeping his tone too defensive. He did not need this woman's sympathy, but it was nice to know that she at least understood his situation to an extent. "My mother spearheaded my political career shortly after I was born, pink and still yet able to survive beneath the waves." He couldn't hide a prideful smirk. "She is a fierce woman."
She would have to be, to brave whatever social barrier stood between Atlanteans and surfacers, Ororo thought, and smiled at his conclusion. "What about your father?"
"A criminal to my people," Namor said, turning aside slightly. "I prefer not to speak of him. I do not know the man, nor do I wish to."
Ororo frowned slightly, but it was, of course, his decision, and she had only just met him. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to stir painful memories. I hope you'll still tell me of your world, some time."
"Of course," Namor said, seemingly unperturbed about the topic of his father, now. "The marvel and wonder that is Atlantis should be something prized, but a prize has no value unless others may know of it."
Ororo wouldn't go so far, but if it got him to tell her stories of his world, she would take it. "All right. Did you learn about handshakes already? A lot of the students like them, when they meet someone new."
"I am familiar with the gesture, yes," Namor affirmed.
"Let's see it," Ororo offered, flying closer to him, and holding her hand out, a small smile on her lips. "It was nice to meet you, Namor."
"You as well, Ororo," Namor replied, taking her hand in what could best be described as a firm yet gentle handshake.
That was actually a nice handshake, and Ororo's smile bloomed again, approving, as she released his hand. "If you need help with anything surface-y, don't hesitate."
"I will not hesitate," Namor said, his tone sincere. "You have my gratitude."
Ororo nodded, her expression warm. "You're welcome."
Ororo wasn't out flying as much as some of the other flight-capable students. She did love it - especially when she found Jeanne-Marie out here - but it was just one of the many aspects of her mutation that she loved exploring. But when she was traveling across the grounds, there was no reason to walk when she could be flying.
Today, she was coming back from checking in on her herbs, eyes white as the wind carried her back towards the mansion, in a simple brown tank top and gray jeans. She was tired of wearing warm clothing, and had taken to fiddling with her body temperature more as the cold lingered.
Of course, compared to the only other person flying in the vicinity right then, she was wearing a lot.
"Hello," she greeted the pointy-eared white boy who was most definitely not Jean-Paul, once they were within earshot. Her tone was friendly as she added, amused, "I don't think we've met."
Still wearing his green-scaled briefs with the golden belt, Namor turned to greet the newcomer once he'd noticed her, which was about when she had called out to him. The way things moved around her... was she manipulating the wind? Fascinating. Namor halted his fight and more or less stood where he was, one knee bent and his ankle-wings supporting him.
"Greetings," he said, not surprised at the difference in the woman's skin color to his own (he had been educated quite thoroughly on surfacers after all). "We have not as of yet met. I am Namor the First, prince of Atlantis," he said, somehow both with and without pride. As if it was simply a fact, but an impressive and altogether acceptable one at that.
"Yes, I heard about you," Ororo acknowledged with a nod and a small smile. She still had a noticeable accent, English clearly not being her native language. "I'm Ororo. Ororo Munroe." Her smile grew a little more amused, still, because of the other prince she was thinking of, and the many things she had called him. "How am I supposed to address you?"
She had been polite to ask, which made him feel rather magnanimous. "Given the situation in which I find myself, Namor is sufficient," he said. "It would be problematic, potentially, if we were in public and I were addressed as royalty," Namor pointed out.
Ororo pursed her lips skeptically. "There are worse problems out there." For one thing, few people would actually believe it out of the blue.
Especially if he was dressed like that.
"But it's a good idea, anyway. Anything else and people might accuse you of being snooty."
"One of the myriad reasons I was sent here was to begin to cement relations with surfacers; I believed it best to start at a personal level," Namor said. "One of my long-term plans for my reign as Emperor is to bring Atlantis into the world theater, and I should be familiar with surfacer customs and persons when doing so." To Namor, that was the best explanation he could offer.
"...so that's a 'yes, Ororo, I think you're right'?" Ororo checked, doing nothing to hide her amusement.
"It was an agreement that we were thinking along the same lines," Namor returned, cocking his head slightly.
"You think I'm right," Ororo concluded, now clearly teasing him. "You don't want to be the stuck up prince around here."
"I think that... we are both right," Namor said, brow furrowed somewhat. "You are correct about me not wanting to appear stuck up, but that was... something I had determined before coming here," he said. This entire thing was confusing, unless... "Are you teasing me?" he asked, his expression somewhat amused, himself. Had he just now caught on?
Ororo smiled frankly at him. "You're kind of asking for it."
The fire in Namor's throat was gone, seeing that smile. "I suppose I may well be," Namor admitted. "My grandfather is... a traditionalist. I look to him, sometimes even aware of how foolish it is, with how I should comport myself. Things are... very different, here on the surface."
"I'd love to hear about it some day," Ororo told him honestly. "What things are like down below, I mean."
He gave her a small smirk. "I would love to tell you of it," he said. "We are a ... very different people. Stronger, hardier. But ... I have seen things in my education that hint that we are not as superior as my grandfather would say. Things will change, in time, in Atlantis, under my reign. But that will not be for many years. So for now, I wait, and I plan, and I learn of the surface."
Yes, that 'Atlantean superiority' mindset was going to have to go, Ororo thought. It was a good thing that she truly believed 'surfacers' had a few things to show him. Hopefully, in time, Namor would see. "Don't underestimate us," she advised him gently. "We'll surprise you yet."
"I would be a fool to underestimate anyone," Namor said, that more aloof tone creeping into his voice. "But surfacers especially, considering that I owe half my lineage to the surface."
"Really?" Ororo flew a little closer out of curiosity. His culture sounded incredibly certain of its superiority over surfacers, and here he was, half one. "That sounds lonely."
"The life of royalty is one of distance from one's subjects," Namor said, careful from keeping his tone too defensive. He did not need this woman's sympathy, but it was nice to know that she at least understood his situation to an extent. "My mother spearheaded my political career shortly after I was born, pink and still yet able to survive beneath the waves." He couldn't hide a prideful smirk. "She is a fierce woman."
She would have to be, to brave whatever social barrier stood between Atlanteans and surfacers, Ororo thought, and smiled at his conclusion. "What about your father?"
"A criminal to my people," Namor said, turning aside slightly. "I prefer not to speak of him. I do not know the man, nor do I wish to."
Ororo frowned slightly, but it was, of course, his decision, and she had only just met him. "I'm sorry. I did not mean to stir painful memories. I hope you'll still tell me of your world, some time."
"Of course," Namor said, seemingly unperturbed about the topic of his father, now. "The marvel and wonder that is Atlantis should be something prized, but a prize has no value unless others may know of it."
Ororo wouldn't go so far, but if it got him to tell her stories of his world, she would take it. "All right. Did you learn about handshakes already? A lot of the students like them, when they meet someone new."
"I am familiar with the gesture, yes," Namor affirmed.
"Let's see it," Ororo offered, flying closer to him, and holding her hand out, a small smile on her lips. "It was nice to meet you, Namor."
"You as well, Ororo," Namor replied, taking her hand in what could best be described as a firm yet gentle handshake.
That was actually a nice handshake, and Ororo's smile bloomed again, approving, as she released his hand. "If you need help with anything surface-y, don't hesitate."
"I will not hesitate," Namor said, his tone sincere. "You have my gratitude."
Ororo nodded, her expression warm. "You're welcome."
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