"What do you remember?" A dangerous question to ask to be certain, but it needed to be asked. He had to know. His human face didn't falter, she would know him in whatever face he wore, yet for the moment he didn't want the ruby eyes and white plaster face, he wanted the face she had married. The one she had said her I Do's to. The face he had worn as he laid down, all unknowingly, to die. "Lenneth." It was her name, no matter what she had been told. He would not let those lies become her truth.
What did she remember? How to articulate the fragments of things that were floating like potatoes in soup broth in her brain. Bubbles rising to the surface only to hold for a second before they popped and left her with nothing, again. That name, what was it about that name? She looked down at the body again, looked at it and tried to make sense of it all. The words refused to come. Turning to look at him, she simply stared before shaking her head in a depressed fashion. She didn't remember anything about him, yet she knew that what she did remember was incomplete now. There was a strange certainty to that. Every time she heard him say that name, she was became more sure that there was something missing. Something that should be, but wasn't. Her breath sounded loud in the crypt space. Impossibly loud for a space so small. Then another sound caught her ear. Poisyn turned her head, just as the wall came crashing in.
War lead Famine through the hole she had busted in the structure, looking with a smile on the fact that Poisyn had been thrown into the far wall and now slumped there as if unconscious. Essex had ducked out of the structure, missing the debris by mere inches. War was gathering Poisyn up in her arms when he stepped back into the doorway.
"Stop," it was a command for all that he didn't raise his voice. The two women looked at him, both marked by the tattoos of Apocalypse on their faces. Then, no words spoken, they nodded to one another and War disappeared back through the hole carrying Poisyn with her, leaving Famine to take care of Essex. Essex, being himself, had far different ideas about what was to go on. He had lost his chance to bring her back, but it was only a minor set-back. Already his plans were in motion and they would yield the results he wanted, only if he got a chance to see them through to fruition. Fighting Famine to the death would not cause that to happen for him. Even as she moved to close the distance between them, he teleported back to his laboratory and sat down to wait. Their eldest would be waking soon, gasping for breath in her tube, and things would truly start to move forward then.
--
Apocalypse was not pacing. He was seated quite firmly on his throne, awaiting the return of the two that he had sent out after his betrayer. The hold he had on Poisyn's mind was slipping. He had felt it when he ordered her to kill her husband. The others would tell him whether his suspicions were correct or not. If he was correct, then it was time to destroy her and begin anew. It would be a great loss considering that he had upheld his portion of the bargain and restored to good health the very man who sought to bring down his plans before he even knew what they were.
The Chancellor was standing at the foot of the stairs, awaiting anxiously any news of the return of War. He twisted the hem of his sleeves with his hands, looking toward the door every few seconds without moving his head. War should have returned already in his estimation. She should have disposed of the traitor and returned long before now. Did he think that she could win against Poisyn should it become an all out fight, no, he did not. War was vulnerable in ways that Poisyn was not. So he believed. Again, he looked to the door and this time it opened. War walked in with Poisyn carried in her arms. Reaching the foot of the stairs, she dumped her parcel unceremoniously there and looked up at her leader with cold eyes.
"She was talking to him, not killing him." With that, she turned to walk away, sparing a glance in the direction of the Chancellor before striding out of the throne room, her step a quick march as if she wanted nothing more than to escape the eyes of her Master.
"What shall I do with her, my Lord," asked the Chancellor, eyes rising to take in Apocalypse's form.
"Gather her up and return her to her chamber," he said with a sweep of his hand. "I will see to her presently." Yet he did not move from his throne, watching dispassionately as Poisyn was gathered up and carried back to her rooms with his compound. He would see to it that she remained there.
--
Essex was drawn back from his work by the sound of water splashing onto the floor. His eldest, Diana, with her shock of white hair was ripping the memory nodes off the sides of her head with impatient hands. She had never liked technology all that much. Granted, most of it didn't work on her very well. Once he jumpstarted her mutation, that would go back to being the case, so he had to make sure her memory was fully restored before then. Getting up from his seat, he walked over to a closet and pulled out hospital scrubs, it would serve to cover her body for the moment. More permanent provisions would be made soon.
"Father," the way his daughter said that word made it clear that she remembered exactly what her relationship with her parent was, far from pleasant. "What's going on?"
"Soon, Diana," he assured her. "I will tell you soon."