Little the worse for wear herself, especially compared to several of the other Tranquility passengers, Raven has been careful to observe her fellows.
Charles went a little bugfuck, you see, and while she's had rather complicated feelings about humans with pretty mutations lately, that doesn't mean she'd wish upon them lugubrious drunken depression that seems to be plaguing her brother in the days since the return. Or worse, the eerie compulsions that Charles had suffered before the onset of his mood symptoms-- and worse than that, even, the probable traumatic symptoms that the kidnappees no doubt must be suffering. The days after the Cuban Missile Crisis, she'd had a hard time sleeping; every time she closed her eyes, she saw fifty warheads suspended in the air, growing their shadows across the sea...
She might feel a little responsible for some of the abductees, too. After all, she bore them across her shoulders, traded burdens, promised to help them with their dead-- and followed through. Raven may be tentative with her alliances to the non-mutants, these days, but follow through has always been important to her. She's in the garden now, twisting her red-haired head to and fro, searching the trees for familiar faces.
"Heather," she calls out, stepping past the shadow of a tree. "Mr. Ianto?"
can i get both of u for that ungodly scare
Charles went a little bugfuck, you see, and while she's had rather complicated feelings about humans with pretty mutations lately, that doesn't mean she'd wish upon them lugubrious drunken depression that seems to be plaguing her brother in the days since the return. Or worse, the eerie compulsions that Charles had suffered before the onset of his mood symptoms-- and worse than that, even, the probable traumatic symptoms that the kidnappees no doubt must be suffering. The days after the Cuban Missile Crisis, she'd had a hard time sleeping; every time she closed her eyes, she saw fifty warheads suspended in the air, growing their shadows across the sea...
She might feel a little responsible for some of the abductees, too. After all, she bore them across her shoulders, traded burdens, promised to help them with their dead-- and followed through. Raven may be tentative with her alliances to the non-mutants, these days, but follow through has always been important to her. She's in the garden now, twisting her red-haired head to and fro, searching the trees for familiar faces.
"Heather," she calls out, stepping past the shadow of a tree. "Mr. Ianto?"