Pyro and Illyana - Yorkland aftermath
Nov. 28th, 2018 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainPyro and Illyana deal with their memories of Yorkland. Or try to.
Pyro woke in a start, hands shooting up to his neck as he gasped in much needed air. His neck hadn't broken with the drop, and the rope... the rope...
He was in his bed, at Asteroid M, and Mage was coming to beside him. Shit, fuck. "I had the worst fucking dream," he said as a hello, rubbing at his neck where he could still feel the hemp biting in. His breath was still short, and his heart going a hundred miles an hour.
Illyana's eyes popped open at the sound of his voice, and she sat bolt upright, spinning to look down at him. And stared, because he was there, and alive, and she wasn't imagining it, and...
She pulled back, one hand flying to her face. "You're alive," she blurted, not quite able to believe it. Because...he'd been dead. And it had been 100% her fault.
"Wait," Pyro said with a frown, pushing up on one hand, into a sitting position. "Why - how -" Dreams didn't usually feel that vivid. He never remembered them in such details. And Mage also expected him to be dead. A weight was pressing down on his lungs, and now he couldn't take his hand away from his neck, needing to keep feeling that the rope wasn't there. "I don't..."
"I don't know." Illyana stared at him, feeling as if she couldn't breathe, then reached out tentatively and rested her fingers over his, on his neck. "They...no." She shook her head and swallowed, hard. "It wasn't real? It felt real."
"They fucking hanged me!" Pyro blurted out, feeling the rope there again and needing to move. He stumbled out of bed, clad in nothing but boxers. "How - is that what you remember too? We were thieves, and we slept together, and then you cursed me?"
Wearing only one of Pyro's t-shirts, Illyana pulled her legs in to sit crosslegged, made an awkward face, and nodded. "Yeah. All of...that." She pushed her hand back through her hair. "Though technically, Eileen cursed you. I didn't have any powers."
"Oh yeah, that makes it so much better!" Pyro snapped. Anger felt right. Anger was easier to feel than anything else right now.
"Well, I don't know how to make it better! I mean, I tried, but-" Illyana paused, winced, and shook her head. "That wasn't me. And it wasn't you. I don't know what happened, but...it wasn't." It wasn't. It couldn't have been. Not either of them. So why did she remember everything?
"It sure as fuck felt like me," he answered, less loudly, rubbing at his neck again.
"It felt like me, too," Illyana admitted. She slipped off the bed and took a step towards him, tentatively, her eyes pleading. "I wouldn't, though. You know that."
"Of course you wouldn't," Pyro agreed, because he knew that. But then again, there was a nagging little doubt at the back of his mind, wasn't there? Curses did sound right up her alley. But he didn't have much liberty to think about it just then, as he couldn't quite shake the memory of dying, cut off from his fire. He had wanted, so badly, to burn them all for this.
"Are you okay?" Illyana winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "Sorry, stupid question." Because of course he wasn't okay. He'd died. Or at least, he remembered having died, however it had happened. Instead of asking another, she walked over and tentatively wrapped her arms around him, bracing herself in case he decided to brush her off. Because okay, she felt pretty fucked up right now? But he'd definitely had it a whole lot worse.
Pyro wrapped his arms around her, and yeah, he was clinging, don't mind him. He would just hold her tight for a while, and try not to freak out. Solid plan.
Illyana closed her eyes, buried her face in Pyro's miraculously un-dislocated shoulder, and tightened her arms around him. He wasn't dead. That was the main thing, right? However it had happened - however it had all happened - he wasn't dead, and she hadn't killed him. Everything else would sort itself out. Even if she still felt as if someone were strangling her.
After a moment, Pyro loosened his hold on her. Not because he'd stopped freaking out, but because his panic had switched to something else, however temporarily. "I need to get my lighter," he muttered, moving away from her to pick it up off of the nightstand. Over there, he'd been able to conjure fire out of nowhere - until they'd clasped those cuffs on him. And that was all he could think about now, how he needed to make sure that he could still do what he did. He flicked the lighter open, then lit, and breathed out in relief when the warmth of the flame burst into his chest. He fed it, dropping the lighter on the bed to grow a large ball between his hands. Fuck yes.
Illyana considered protesting as he let her go, then dismissed the thought entirely. He had to check, of course. She didn't - she could feel the difference already; the awareness of the mystical energies around her, the tug of the dark side of her soul. Ironic, that she'd gone to someone else for a curse when she'd never thought to curse anyone herself, when Belasco's influence had never been a thing and when she'd grown up ragged but content with Nico.
Yeah. Ironic. She'd go with that, and not think about it further for now.
"Still got it," she said instead, and smiled faintly, unsure whether he wanted her there now or not.
Pyro dropped on the edge of the bed, the ball of fire still between his hands, and looked up at her, a little belatedly, as if her words had taken that long to register. "You too?" He let himself slide down to the floor, legs folding, as much of his body bracketing the heat of the fire as possible. He didn't want to let go of it now.
"Yeah. Except no one blocked mine. I just...didn't have it. Any of it." She came over and sat down on the floor next to him, unworried about the fire in his hands but leaving enough space between them that she wouldn't interfere with his manipulation of it. Knees bent in front of, she leaned forward and pushed her hands back through her hair. "It's all back, though. I should probably be unhappy about that, but...not."
Pyro looked at her with confusion. "Why would you be unhappy about that?"
Illyana shrugged. "Pretty sure that not losing three fifths of your soul is something you're supposed to be happy about." She looked at him with a very faint, wry smile, let it fade, and shrugged. "Anyway. Everything's back to normal. And you're not beat up, shackled, powerless, cursed, or dead. So...it's all good, right?" Though if it was, she wasn't sure why her vision was clouding, or why she still felt as if she were going to choke on the lump in her throat.
Pyro still didn't really get the whole soul thing, and wasn't sure he ever would. He looked back to the fire as she listed everything he was currently not. "Yeah," he agreed, staring into the flames.
"Yeah," she echoed, and carefully squirmed over to close the gap between them and lean in against him. She wasn't sure she was believing that, but she wasn't going to push. He'd said before - if he wanted to talk, he would.
For a second there, Pyro wasn't sure whether he welcomed the contact, or wanted to edge away from it. But then he sighed, and leaned his shoulder against hers in kind. "I don't know how to pick locks," he said, in a whisper, ball of fire rotating between his palms.
"I do. But I do it with magic," Illyana whispered back. She tilted her head onto his shoulder and watched the fire turn. "I felt so...weak. Like I didn't have any control over anything."
There was a flare of brighter flame inside the ball, and Pyro looked over at her. "Is that why you had me cursed?"
Illyana lifted her head from his shoulder and shrugged, still staring at the fire. "I don't know. Maybe. You made me feel like I was worth something, and then - not."
Pyro did not think he had it in him to get angry right now. The fire in his hands was smoothing out the edges of his emotions right now, and he would rather focus on that. "I'm sorry."
"It wasn't really you." She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry I had you cursed." Because whether it had really been her or not, she still remembered it like it had been.
"Yeah," he simply said. What could he say? If he thought about it he'd think about that rope around his neck again. And he was so tired of being without his fire. That trend could stop, when-the-fuck-ever.
"Yeah," Illyana echoed for no particular reason other than that it was something to say. She got up, because she couldn't sit still any longer, and just walked across the room and leaned her forehead against the wall. "We should probably go check on everyone, huh?" she asked without any enthusiasm. It wasn't that she wanted to, but maybe doing something would help get rid of the feelings of guilt and helplessness that she couldn't seem to shake.
"I think I'm gonna..." Stay here with my fire, except by then, Pyro's slow brain had caught up with her words, and the implication there, and he trailed off. If the two of them had been in that universe, what about the others? They might not be doing any better, and he wanted to check in with Wanda in particular. "Yeah. I'll come with." He reluctantly shrank the fireball out of existence, then got to his feet to grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Illyana debated changing, decided she really didn't care one way or the other, and just pulled out a pair of Xaviers' shorts she'd accidentally packed when she'd left and pulled them on underneath Pyro's shirt. And leaned against her dresser, watching Pyro and trying to not remember how he'd looked when she'd last seen him, there.
Pyro woke in a start, hands shooting up to his neck as he gasped in much needed air. His neck hadn't broken with the drop, and the rope... the rope...
He was in his bed, at Asteroid M, and Mage was coming to beside him. Shit, fuck. "I had the worst fucking dream," he said as a hello, rubbing at his neck where he could still feel the hemp biting in. His breath was still short, and his heart going a hundred miles an hour.
Illyana's eyes popped open at the sound of his voice, and she sat bolt upright, spinning to look down at him. And stared, because he was there, and alive, and she wasn't imagining it, and...
She pulled back, one hand flying to her face. "You're alive," she blurted, not quite able to believe it. Because...he'd been dead. And it had been 100% her fault.
"Wait," Pyro said with a frown, pushing up on one hand, into a sitting position. "Why - how -" Dreams didn't usually feel that vivid. He never remembered them in such details. And Mage also expected him to be dead. A weight was pressing down on his lungs, and now he couldn't take his hand away from his neck, needing to keep feeling that the rope wasn't there. "I don't..."
"I don't know." Illyana stared at him, feeling as if she couldn't breathe, then reached out tentatively and rested her fingers over his, on his neck. "They...no." She shook her head and swallowed, hard. "It wasn't real? It felt real."
"They fucking hanged me!" Pyro blurted out, feeling the rope there again and needing to move. He stumbled out of bed, clad in nothing but boxers. "How - is that what you remember too? We were thieves, and we slept together, and then you cursed me?"
Wearing only one of Pyro's t-shirts, Illyana pulled her legs in to sit crosslegged, made an awkward face, and nodded. "Yeah. All of...that." She pushed her hand back through her hair. "Though technically, Eileen cursed you. I didn't have any powers."
"Oh yeah, that makes it so much better!" Pyro snapped. Anger felt right. Anger was easier to feel than anything else right now.
"Well, I don't know how to make it better! I mean, I tried, but-" Illyana paused, winced, and shook her head. "That wasn't me. And it wasn't you. I don't know what happened, but...it wasn't." It wasn't. It couldn't have been. Not either of them. So why did she remember everything?
"It sure as fuck felt like me," he answered, less loudly, rubbing at his neck again.
"It felt like me, too," Illyana admitted. She slipped off the bed and took a step towards him, tentatively, her eyes pleading. "I wouldn't, though. You know that."
"Of course you wouldn't," Pyro agreed, because he knew that. But then again, there was a nagging little doubt at the back of his mind, wasn't there? Curses did sound right up her alley. But he didn't have much liberty to think about it just then, as he couldn't quite shake the memory of dying, cut off from his fire. He had wanted, so badly, to burn them all for this.
"Are you okay?" Illyana winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. "Sorry, stupid question." Because of course he wasn't okay. He'd died. Or at least, he remembered having died, however it had happened. Instead of asking another, she walked over and tentatively wrapped her arms around him, bracing herself in case he decided to brush her off. Because okay, she felt pretty fucked up right now? But he'd definitely had it a whole lot worse.
Pyro wrapped his arms around her, and yeah, he was clinging, don't mind him. He would just hold her tight for a while, and try not to freak out. Solid plan.
Illyana closed her eyes, buried her face in Pyro's miraculously un-dislocated shoulder, and tightened her arms around him. He wasn't dead. That was the main thing, right? However it had happened - however it had all happened - he wasn't dead, and she hadn't killed him. Everything else would sort itself out. Even if she still felt as if someone were strangling her.
After a moment, Pyro loosened his hold on her. Not because he'd stopped freaking out, but because his panic had switched to something else, however temporarily. "I need to get my lighter," he muttered, moving away from her to pick it up off of the nightstand. Over there, he'd been able to conjure fire out of nowhere - until they'd clasped those cuffs on him. And that was all he could think about now, how he needed to make sure that he could still do what he did. He flicked the lighter open, then lit, and breathed out in relief when the warmth of the flame burst into his chest. He fed it, dropping the lighter on the bed to grow a large ball between his hands. Fuck yes.
Illyana considered protesting as he let her go, then dismissed the thought entirely. He had to check, of course. She didn't - she could feel the difference already; the awareness of the mystical energies around her, the tug of the dark side of her soul. Ironic, that she'd gone to someone else for a curse when she'd never thought to curse anyone herself, when Belasco's influence had never been a thing and when she'd grown up ragged but content with Nico.
Yeah. Ironic. She'd go with that, and not think about it further for now.
"Still got it," she said instead, and smiled faintly, unsure whether he wanted her there now or not.
Pyro dropped on the edge of the bed, the ball of fire still between his hands, and looked up at her, a little belatedly, as if her words had taken that long to register. "You too?" He let himself slide down to the floor, legs folding, as much of his body bracketing the heat of the fire as possible. He didn't want to let go of it now.
"Yeah. Except no one blocked mine. I just...didn't have it. Any of it." She came over and sat down on the floor next to him, unworried about the fire in his hands but leaving enough space between them that she wouldn't interfere with his manipulation of it. Knees bent in front of, she leaned forward and pushed her hands back through her hair. "It's all back, though. I should probably be unhappy about that, but...not."
Pyro looked at her with confusion. "Why would you be unhappy about that?"
Illyana shrugged. "Pretty sure that not losing three fifths of your soul is something you're supposed to be happy about." She looked at him with a very faint, wry smile, let it fade, and shrugged. "Anyway. Everything's back to normal. And you're not beat up, shackled, powerless, cursed, or dead. So...it's all good, right?" Though if it was, she wasn't sure why her vision was clouding, or why she still felt as if she were going to choke on the lump in her throat.
Pyro still didn't really get the whole soul thing, and wasn't sure he ever would. He looked back to the fire as she listed everything he was currently not. "Yeah," he agreed, staring into the flames.
"Yeah," she echoed, and carefully squirmed over to close the gap between them and lean in against him. She wasn't sure she was believing that, but she wasn't going to push. He'd said before - if he wanted to talk, he would.
For a second there, Pyro wasn't sure whether he welcomed the contact, or wanted to edge away from it. But then he sighed, and leaned his shoulder against hers in kind. "I don't know how to pick locks," he said, in a whisper, ball of fire rotating between his palms.
"I do. But I do it with magic," Illyana whispered back. She tilted her head onto his shoulder and watched the fire turn. "I felt so...weak. Like I didn't have any control over anything."
There was a flare of brighter flame inside the ball, and Pyro looked over at her. "Is that why you had me cursed?"
Illyana lifted her head from his shoulder and shrugged, still staring at the fire. "I don't know. Maybe. You made me feel like I was worth something, and then - not."
Pyro did not think he had it in him to get angry right now. The fire in his hands was smoothing out the edges of his emotions right now, and he would rather focus on that. "I'm sorry."
"It wasn't really you." She sighed and pushed her hair back from her face. "I'm sorry I had you cursed." Because whether it had really been her or not, she still remembered it like it had been.
"Yeah," he simply said. What could he say? If he thought about it he'd think about that rope around his neck again. And he was so tired of being without his fire. That trend could stop, when-the-fuck-ever.
"Yeah," Illyana echoed for no particular reason other than that it was something to say. She got up, because she couldn't sit still any longer, and just walked across the room and leaned her forehead against the wall. "We should probably go check on everyone, huh?" she asked without any enthusiasm. It wasn't that she wanted to, but maybe doing something would help get rid of the feelings of guilt and helplessness that she couldn't seem to shake.
"I think I'm gonna..." Stay here with my fire, except by then, Pyro's slow brain had caught up with her words, and the implication there, and he trailed off. If the two of them had been in that universe, what about the others? They might not be doing any better, and he wanted to check in with Wanda in particular. "Yeah. I'll come with." He reluctantly shrank the fireball out of existence, then got to his feet to grab a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Illyana debated changing, decided she really didn't care one way or the other, and just pulled out a pair of Xaviers' shorts she'd accidentally packed when she'd left and pulled them on underneath Pyro's shirt. And leaned against her dresser, watching Pyro and trying to not remember how he'd looked when she'd last seen him, there.
