Tanned fingers lift the horrendous disaster of canary and obsidian with a nauseated grimace. Kaeha inspects every seam and crevice, face draining of color as the seconds tick by. Erik tries his best to remain a pillar of severity and fails with a smile flickering across thin lips. His amusement annoys the hell out of her.
"This is the uniform? He wants me to willingly put on yellow spandex?" Kaeha sputters in disbelief.
"There's also black." Erik tartly corrects.
Her withering glare merely coaxes his smirk to reveal itself in full force. Shoving the monstrosity back into its case, Kaeha glares at the lid. Thoughts of igniting the heinous garment on fire slowly consume her mind. The mere fact that Charles specially prepared this for her prevented an actual combustion. Fingers massage the bridge of her nose as she sighs deeply.
Something that clingy would be a hindrance for practice. She mutters in discomfort.
As she deliberates possible substitutes, approaching limbs catch her attention. A wary glance is cast when Erik walks over. A few days after her lecture in the library, Erik started to treat her more cordially. It was a pleasant change but she still kept herself on guard.
A pale hand reaches out towards her and Kaeha blinks blankly at the offered garments. A loose black tunic and sleek leggings have been neatly folded and now nestle within his broad palm. Eyebrows furrow when it appears to be her size.
"Unlike Charles, I predicted a negative reaction and prepared an alternative." Erik drawls, handing over the tidy pile of charcoal.
He doesn't wait for her reply, stalking off towards the edge of the ring. Sinewy muscles flex as Erik melts into customary stretches before sparring. Kaeha, still stunned by sudden kindness, changes into the training garb behind a dressing screen. She glides over to the opposite side of the ring and mirror her opponent's movements.
It does cater to my tastes better. She muses, grateful for the nonrestrictive tunic and habitual color scheme.
The energy user brushes aside Erik's perceptive insight and focuses on the familiar ache of muscles. It's been exactly ten days since her awry drug dosing and Hank finally cleared her for physical training. Assisting the kids was a pleasure but a pale comparison to the exhilaration of actual combat. The addictive gratification of pushing her physical limits outweighed her usual practice of nonviolence.
Adrenaline courses through her veins from the familiar build up before a fight. Relaxing her muscles to a deceptively lax state, the unlikely duo step into the center. They circle each other in slow steps as they wait for someone to make the first move.
Admittedly, she would have preferred Hank as her sparring partner. He would have been ideal to refresh her foundation before easing into the complex moves. She would have no such luxury with Erik. The metal bender wouldn't assume she was too weak to handle vigorous exercise and thus would give his all.
Full steam ahead. She dryly chirps, darting forward to land a fist into his exposed throat.
Erik easily deflects her punch with an agile slip to the right. The sudden shift throws her slightly off balance enough for calloused fingers to wrap around a thin wrist. Silver loop gleaming, Kaeha is yanked forward and neatly flipped over his shoulder.
She contorts herself to land on her feet instead of her back but his brute strength made it a hard landing. The lingering force shoots up her calves and stabs into her knees. Rolling sideways to avoid a lethal kick to her temple, Kaeha springs back onto her feet in one fluid motion.
A fair amount of space reforms between them as they circle each other once more. The abrupt change in pace from swift blows to slow stalking keeps her on her toes. Well-placed jabs and graceful dodges are traded back and forth between the duo in an almost fierce dance.
Of course, Kaeha is the one that ends up more bruised as their skirmish progresses. Despite being light-footed and skillfully anticipating Erik's blows, he still moves like a well-oiled machine with effortless dexterity as he decimates her flawed defense. She ends up sprawled on the mat fairly often.
Regardless, he would gently help her back onto her feet before calmly explaining the errors she made and methods to fix them. After an hour of sparring, Kaeha finds herself slowly falling in sync to the repeated pattern. She finally acclimated herself to the way his limbs twist and flex and he to hers. Now they move in tandem to a steady rhythm of punch, punch, kick, dodge, punch, roll, swipe.
Hours later once she's run out of steam and starts swaying, Erik ends their bout. This time Kaeha willingly throws herself onto pliant flooring. She aches everywhere but satisfaction soothes the prickling pain in sore muscles. A surprised yelp tears out of her lips when something soft is thrown upon her face.
Kaeha lurches upright into a sitting position, feather-light object sliding into her lap. A small towel with Xavier embroidered in copper thread by a corner fills her vision. Erik has a similar one curled around his neck. The brunette hesitantly pinches a corner and slowly lifts it up to eye-level.
Another random act of kindness? Lehnsherr has lost it. She grimly muses.
"As a thank you. We'll practice again tomorrow." Erik relays in monotone before stiffly exiting.
Bewildered hazel irises dart back and forth between the fluffy towel and closed door. It takes a few moments for her to absorb the string of abnormal events. Finally, she picks herself up and ambles towards the door while hands mop up lingering beads of sweat. An amused grimace contorts her lips.
"If this is his idea of a 'thank you', he's got a long way to go." Kaeha mutters dryly.
Regardless, fingers stroke the gentle surface in endearing caresses as an unconscious smile bats aside her grimace.
That was kind of cute though. She muses, a soft laugh flitting by.
Glittering heels click across concrete floors in a hushed symphony. Armed men flow past her, separating around her form as though she were a shining rock disrupting a current of black. No one lingered by her side to offer protection. Emma found it amusing that they knew better to charge on than waste their breath.
Enemies only had to get within a ten feet radius of the telepath before crumpling to the floor instantly. Such unprotected and vulnerable minds were easy specks to crush. Ivory skin transforms into dazzling diamonds to rebound the array of bullets fired in her direction.
All it took was a tilt of golden locks and the firing ceased as minds were knocked unconscious. Emma likes the absence of uncouth thoughts. Sniffing demurely as she steps over a fallen man, Emma projects the mental image of a heavily sealed room filled with cowering scientists into Azazel's mind.
He nods and easily snaps the neck of the burly soldier he was grappling with. Manicured fingers lace with his and a blink later they appear inside the vaulted room. Steel blue irises glint in sadistic mirth when men in white coats and pressed suits recoil in horror.
"How pathetic." She sighs, putrid thoughts of abandonment howling against the edges of her mind.
A mad clamor for hidden arms and the locked door occurs. The telepath doesn't move a muscle as Azazel skillfully teleports them around the heavy barrage of drug-encased bullets. Green now decorates the previously bare walls in glowing splatters.
Emma does a quick sweep of their minds and finds the information she needs in one: tranquilizers have been added to the harmful luminescent mixture. Lips curve into a smirk as she easily plants an illusion into erratic minds.
The duo watch as upper officials from the twisted anti-mutant organization fire at each other under the deception that their comrades were the spectating mutants. Emma examines her nails until the final thud rings out. Accessing the thrumming mental links connecting their raiding party, she speaks.
It's done. The telepath calmly relays as Azazel binds comatose men with rope and handcuffs.
Great job, Emma. We're on our way. Level 3 is clear. Moira replies, echoes of acknowledgement trailing behind her.
Emma departs from the mental conversation when the brunette agent methodically allocates her team to take down the remaining men. Now that the students were a part of the ambush force, even a highly guarded meeting like this was easy enough to conquer.
The kids were good. She would never verbally say it but she could acknowledge it in her mind. Their improvement spiked once Charles allowed Erik to partake in the training. It was interesting to see Kaeha and her 'leader' work together as ordained by her fellow telepath.
Like poetry in motion. She ponders, lips forming a small smirk.
Pondering whether the energy mutant would be Erik's downfall or savior, Emma flinches in surprise when Azazel grabs her arm. They disappear in a flurry of flames and smoke as Emma reappears by a desolated corner. Her comrade has his arms firmly twisted around a pale neck.
A man clad in a sleet grey suit struggles against the vice grip, raised gun shaking in his hand. Emerald is splattered against the wall behind where she previously stood. Azazel flexes crimson arms twice and the brunette with silver peppering his temples is now dead to the world.
"He shouldn't be left alive." Emma sniffs in disdain.
"That would go against Erik's orders." The teleporter retorts, using a sailor's knot for his binding.
Humming absently, her gaze flickers over the man that tried to assault her. It was odd; she hadn't sensed his mind. As a telepath, any active mind was a beacon of energy that brushed against her consciousness. This person was the unusual exception.
Her initial impression was that he acted as a sponsor for the organization's vile experiments given his polished appearance. Now, with a clear view of his face, she realized otherwise.
This is the man that sat at the head of the table. He was the only one that glared at the duo with boiling hatred than panic when they first arrived. Every action he made exuded calmness and precision.
He's dangerous. Emma concludes warily.
The door swings open and a string of agents fronted by Alex enter. She steps back as robust men easily haul away bound prisoners as though they weighed nothing. Mutely reaching for Azazel's hand, concrete floors fall away before uneven forest grounds appear beneath her feet. Army vehicles are strewn about, Sean waving brightly to direct the duo to his. Walking over, a niggling thought plagues Emma all through the ride back.
The man looked familiar.
Usual Mini Rant:
Finally, a little action! :D Bonding time is great and all but it's high time to move forward. The Erik and Kaeha relationship is building up. I know it's not pure romance and burning glances but neither seem inclined to do so. xD
At least a major blow to the organization has been dealt - yay for Charles's kiddies! Now the plot thickens bwahahaha! Well, not really, but I can try. *grins sheepishly*