-Rogue-
They're gone? What the heck did he mean they're gone?!
"Dey're gone," Kurt repeated. This time there was urgency in his voice.
There was a deafening silence as we waited for someone to say or do something. I pictured the various things the Killer might have done to Kitty before he escaped. Maiming, death, torture, or worse...we'd just seen a huge display of power from the bastard, how could we have been so stupid. Poor Kitty...
Bobby asked if we should check the room. Duh! What the heck were we doing standing around here for!? Several of us made movements for the door.
"No," the Professor responded, "Kitty is safe, and that's all that matters. Kurt, take Logan into the room to check on everything."
Nobody moved.
"Now," the Professor commanded sharply.
Kurt ported next to Logan and placed a hand on his shoulder; a moment later they were gone. I knew the Professor wouldn't lie to us—if he said Kitty was fine then she was fine, but I didn't see the harm in going over there myself. Calmly I headed for the door. Scott and Bobby slowly followed. Eventually the others trickled out behind us. As soon as we were out of sight of the Professor we bolted.
We ran through the various hallways stampeding for the Killers room, Scott and I at the lead. Some paused to take the elevator but most—myself included—ran straight for the stairs; they would be faster. I cursed when we were stopped for clearance before the stairwell doors, but once they opened, I tore through them and up the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me. By the time we reached the second floor my legs and lungs were burning. I looked over at Scott as I ran. He was breathing heavily but showed no signs of stopping. Exhausted but determined to keep up, I kept pace, then pushed passed him.
I was the first to reach the door. Scott, Jean, and Berzerker were behind me a second later. Panting, we pressed our ears to the door, trying to hear what was going on inside. Someone was speaking but it was impossible to tell who through the thick wood. Those behind us complained about not being able to hear and asked what was going on. Scott and Ray hushed them loudly. I pressed my ear hard into the door, willing myself to hear better.
"Let me try!" Jamie was crawling through the crowd on his knees. I didn't move for him. If I couldn't hear anything he sure as heck wouldn't be able to. That didn't deter him one bit, he simply crouched at the door beneath the four of us.
Ray didn't approve. "Jamie, there's no room! Get outta-" The door opened and the five of us crashed to the floor—except it wasn't just the five of us, we were at least 15. Jamie, startled by the fall, multiplied himself. I freaked. There were too many people touching me. If one of them touched me skin to skin... I hated absorbing people unnecessarily. My head's crowded enough as it is! Fortunately I was wearing my uniform. The only skin exposed was on my face. I kicked and flailed, trying to dig myself out of the pile and keep covered at the same time.
"Pull yourself together, Jamie!" Ray yelled angrily from somewhere near me.
"Sorry!!" several Jamies called back, near tears.
"Help!" I called, still struggling in vain to free myself. Crap. I changed tactics and made myself as small as possible. Please just don't let anyone touch me...
"Rogue?" My breath caught in my throat; was that Scott? "Rogue, are you alright?" It was.
"Scott?" I yelled back. Ray was yelling at Jaimie again. Someone was pulling on my foot. Several Jamies vanished, causing me to roll left. My boot came off in the process exposing my foot. Double crap.
I kept rolling in an attempt to get out from under the pile of people and reach the spot I thought Scotts voice was coming from. Finally the fear was ebbing away. All I had to do is keep moving towards Scott and everything would be fine. My momentum stopped. My body froze. I was flying up in the air. I looked around, trying to orient myself and figure out what was going on at the same time. I saw Scott hovering near me and I called his name, trying to let him know where I was. He'd been looking for me, trying to make sure I was alright. He knew how freaked I got when people got too close, but Scott was looking elsewhere. He was looking at Jean.
She must have had enough of the disordered mosh pit Jamie created and used her power to untangle us all. Jamie was the only one left on the ground; once in a stress free environment, he was able to pull himself together rather quickly. Within seconds there was only one Jamie left, sitting dejected on the floor. The rest of us were hovering several feet above the ground thanks to Jean. Gently she set us all down. I followed Scott with my eyes as he immediately went to Jeans' side, thanking her for helping us all out.
A throat cleared. Oh no...Logan, the Killer, Kitty! I pushed Bobby and Ray aside; they'd been picking on Jamie for losing it like that and they were in my way, so they deserved it. I needed to make sure Kitty was alright.
"Logan, Ah..."
As I was speaking I attempted to get a peak of the room over Logans' shoulder, and I was pretty damn surprised at what I saw. It was Kitty and the Killer, each sitting exactly where they should be, each looking rather confused, but otherwise perfectly fine. What the heck? I may not have seen the screen myself, but most of the others had and it was supposed to be empty. They were supposed to be gone.
Logan moved forward, moved me aside, and closed the door behind him. I looked at the others to see if they had just seen the same thing as I had. Most of them were gone. The only ones left were the ones involved in the dog pile. Everyone else must have fled when Logan initially opened the door. Cowards.
"Logan, Ah thought yah said they were gone!"
"I dunno what happened, kid. Must have been a blind spot or somethin'; Charles was right, they're both fine." And just like that he brushed right passed me and went along on his merry way. What the heck?
A blind spot on the camera, that's gotta be a joke? Aren't we supposed to have some of the most high tech security in the world? That's bullshit. That can't be all there was to it...and yet I saw it with my own eyes. Both the Killer and Kitty were totally fine. Maybe it really was a blind spot?
But then why didn't the Professor just say so? Logan was wrong; the Professor didn't say they were both fine. He only said Kitty was. He didn't mention anything about the Killer at all. Why didn't the Professor tell us the Killer was still in his room too? Why did he send Logan to check on them using Kurt, aka the express way? It led us all to infer something was wrong...but did that mean there might have been something wrong, or just that the Professor didn't bother correcting us in our assumptions? All this didn't make sense, and I honestly wasn't sure whether or not to bring up my concerns. If there's one thing I've learned from living here it's that the Professor always has a reason for doing and saying things the way he does, and he always has our best interests at heart.
I ignored the others and stalked off to one of the many rooms used for training, grabbing my boot from Bobby as I strode past. When upset, I found the best thing to do was work out. Right now, with me being angry and all those questions piling up in my head, it was getting hard to focus and the people inside me were starting to get confused and rowdy. Sometimes it was best to just work it all out of my system.
I took the stairs back down to S1 and went straight for my favorite gym room. The room was my favorite because it was where we kept all the MMA equipment: the mats, the gloves (boxing, MMA, and grappling style), the mats, shin guards, head gear, focus mitts, three different sized punching bags, a speed bag, and so much more. There was even a grappling dummy. The room was equipped to train mutants like me—mutants that can't go into peoples heads, or lift things with their minds, or control the weather. It was so that mutants that have only their fists and brains to fight with could get good with both, and since that's all I had more often than not, this gym room was my favorite.
I made my way over to the small boom box that was sitting in the corner of the vast room and popped open the CD compartment. I grinned, the CD I left last time was still in there. I closed my eyes, letting the fast paced music wash over me. I stood, rolling my neck then shoulders to loosen them as I walked to the center of the room. I did a few more quick stretches then began my warm up.
I threw a quick jab, making sure to keep my right hand up to cover my face as I did so, then threw another. At my own pace, in time to the music, I threw a few more jabs. I varied the timing of each punch so that my enemy, when I had one, would find it harder to block and counter my strikes, and so that I wouldn't get into the habit of rhythmically throwing punches. I darted forwards, then back with each quick stroke—in and out of my enemies strike range.
Satisfied, I switched to my strong arm. After a series of crosses, again dancing and varying the timing of my punches, I switched to combinations. Jab. Jab cross. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, cross, cross. Jab, hook, cross. I kept at it, paying attention to the technique of my punches and my footwork. When the pace of my breathing increased I walked over to the punching bag in the corner.
Normally I'd do a few more exercises, some pushup, sit-ups, agility and endurance drills, but this time I just felt like hitting something till I couldn't lift my arms anymore. I put on a pair of the MMA style gloves. They provided wrist support while still enabling me to feel the bag and the punches. I worked hard. I punched hard. I kicked hard. I darted around the bag as it swung from the intensity of my blows, taking personal offense at it's refusal to go down before I did. Every strike I aimed at the Killer. I didn't stop until I imagined him broken and defeated. Tired, sweating, sore, but satisfied, I stripped off the gloves, tossing them aside to the "used" pile.
As good as the Killer was I would train until I was better. As fast as he was I'd work until I was faster. Sure, I didn't have any special powers like the others. Of course, actually being faster and stronger would be impossible, but my training paired with my toxic skin will stop him. The training will get me close and keep me alive; my skin will get me the knock out.
-Inuyasha-
What the fuck...?
"Yeah, we just wanted to check in...Make sure you were okay, you know?" the red haired witch was speaking in absurdly loud whispers with my guard. I wasn't sure if they realized I could hear them from the way they huddled on the opposite side of the room sneaking glances at me over their shoulders, but it made me want to slap them both upside the head. The red head walked in after the whole fiasco to placate my confused and slightly alarmed guard.
The girl had just settled in her chair when the gruff looking man and the demonic looking witch magicked themselves in the room, startling the both of us. One looked around the room, then poofed back out. The other looked at me and then the girl before muttering a curse under his breath, and asking if we were alright. Obviously he was talking to the girl. She nodded, asked if her shift was over, and shifted uncomfortably when the man (I should really start making an effort to remember names) ignored her and walked slowly around the room. When he got near the spot the girl and I had our little...confrontation, he stopped, thinking...
The gruff looking man was the only one I met whose powers I didn't know. All of the others had a specific charm or spell they were handy with, but this man seemed only to rely on his fists and blades. The fact that he stopped exactly at the spot where the girl and I were arguing after circling much of that half of the room left me wondering whether his specialty was more suited for non combat situations.
But then after standing there for a few seconds longer he simply turned around to leave. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and the woman looked at me pointedly. She realized the significance of where the man stood as well, except she was aware of his power and I was not. I didn't like that she had the advantage over me in this situation, even if it was only knowledge based. I watched the man leave, waiting for him to get out of earshot so that I could ask her what he was all about. I turned back towards her as his hand touched the knob, but heard voices from the hall. It sounded like a group of people was crowded around the door.
It was because there was a group of people crowding around the door. When the man swung it backwards to exit, several of the younger witches fell forward. One multiplied into 20 as soon as he hit the floor, causing confusion. Several of the kids buried beneath him cried out at the boy, revealed as Jamie, in anger. Someone with an accent cried out for a Scott to help them. I stood on the bed to get a better view. Several Jamies were picking themselves out of the pile and pulling themselves back together. I looked hard at each copy. They were identical, I marveled. I sniffed the air to try and find the original by scent, but they smelled similar as well—at least from my present location. The illusions this young human made unintentionally were ten times as good as the Kitsune Youjutsu Shippou would spend hours trying to perfect.
The gruff looking man stood there, waiting for order to be restored. He looked preoccupied. I resisted the urge to laugh at the idiocy of it all. Finally, after a good few minutes of desperate scrambling on the witches parts, the red haired woman from the clearing separated herself from the pack, and with a stern look raised an arm. The motion sent the pile flying, leaving only Jamie and several of his illusions on the floor. In the air was Scott, along with a boy I'd never seen before and, surprisingly, the girl with the toxic skin.
I recalled how a woman with an accent was calling for help—specifically from the boy Scott. She didn't seem the type to get flustered easily. I noted the way she looked from Scott to the red haired woman. I also noticed how grateful Scott seemed that it was the red head that had restored order, and how he immediately went to her side once his feet touched the ground. The southern witch did not look as pleased. She made to go into my room, but as soon as she saw me she blanched. With the doorway clear, the gruff looking man left, closing the door shut behind him.
Interesting. The whole mess made my captors seem less than capable of keeping me within their grasp—at least using man power alone. It reaffirmed the notion that my captors were mostly young humans, inexperienced in battle, and not ready for a target such as myself. It showed that they were undisciplined and had a lot of growing up to do before facing me. Unfortunately the girl that defeated me in the clearing was among those kids, and I was surprised to find myself disappointed by that. For some reason I'd thought better of her.
I decided that her taking me down was just a fluke. It was sheer luck on her part that I happened to get close enough for her to touch me, not skill. When I held her against me to deter her companions from attacking in the clearing she was a scared little girl until I got close. It was coincidence that I chose her as a bargaining tool and shield, and had I grabbed any of the others I would never have lost to the inadequate group of fledglings. At the very least, I also learned that I will never be defeated by her again.
Now I know better; I'll never get close enough to her to succumb to her sorcery. After that little display of childish behavior, fear, and unrequited love I was ashamed for putting her on such a high pedestal. I'm a real idiot sometimes.
The two women seemed to be concluding their "quiet" discussion. The red head was apologizing once again for barging in, and advising my guard not to worry.
"Everything is like, Okay, right?" the brunette asked.
"Yes, of course," the red head replied, and finally, after a quick backwards glance she left.
The brunette went back to her simple chair and settled in with a sigh. I remembered my previous question.
"Oy," I called without thinking. It got the girls attention, but I realized too late it probably wasn't the best idea to ask my guard for Intel on one of her own. She couldn't possibly be that stupid.
"What's up?"
Well, she did have a hard time knowing when to keep her mouth shut...I decided to give it a shot and asked about the man who was teleported in the room.
"Kurt or Logan?"
"The one that's not blue."
"Logan." I nodded; I'd remember that name. There was an awkward pause while I tried to think of a way to innocently ask where his powers lay.
"So...like, what about him?" the girl asked.
I shifted uncomfortably. His scent was just as fucked up as the others, so he had to be a witch and, like the others, know at least one spell; I just wasn't sure how to ask which it was. "Nothin'," I replied evasively. I'd figure it out on my own.
"Oh..." She seemed disappointed, "Okay, but like, if you have any questions you could like, totally ask me. I don't mind at all, I..." and off she went. I didn't bother interrupting. I don't think she could stop talking if she tried. Past experiences have shown that any noise will be misconstrued as my continuing the conversation.
I thought back to our little tiff. When she offered to help and I accepted, I was just being obnoxious. I honestly didn't think she'd come over and do anything, especially after she'd just seen me fight and almost turn. Mostly I just wanted to have fun at her expense. I waited as she slowly came over. The dank scent of her fear almost made me cringe. What was she doing, I remember asking myself.
The girl stopped directly in front of me. I could have torn her throat out before the nervous expression left her face. To do so though, would be cheap. A voice in the back of my head nagged me, told me this was a stupid idea and to end this nonsense immediately. I didn't listen to it. Patiently I waited as she reached a hand out towards my shoulder, wondering what she would do, and then she turned her face towards me.
Our eyes met. My breath hitched in my throat.
I hadn't been this close to a woman in a long time. The fearful look in her eyes vanished and her expression softened. It was the exact same expression Kagome would give me when she looked at me. At first I didn't understand what that tender look meant. I only knew how embarrassed it made me, especially when we were close. I'd be carrying her on my back as usual, and when I'd put her down to make camp, she'd linger near me a second longer than we both knew she had too. I'd turn to face her and she'd be looking up at me with those warm brown eyes...
I barely noticed the girl move behind me to the bed. I moved with her, feeling my heart clench as it vividly remembered tender moments.
After I had chosen Kagome, it took everything I had not to kiss her when she was like that. Close, and safe, and happy with me...it was how I wanted her to be for forever. Once I realized the meaning behind that look, that loving look I couldn't have possibly deserved, I'd look forward to those times where we had an excuse to be close. I'd make up reasons to be near her, and take care to do the things that made her happy so that when I'd look over at her she'd have that look in her eyes. The one that told me, 'I love you, Inuyasha,' when she couldn't aloud.
The night I told her she had that look on her face. Kagome had looked up at me with tears in her eyes and tried to speak, but sobbed instead. I could tell by her scent she wasn't angry or sad, but the salty smell of her tears made me beg her to stop crying.
"I can't," she said, "I'm just so happy."
So I drew her to me and held her tight while she cried and laughed at the same time. And I buried my face in her neck and hair and drew a deep breath, loving the scent of her. I closed my eyes and inhaled, reminiscing...except the scent was all wrong. It was different, not my Kagome and not entirely human neither.
It was that bitch; that stupid fucking bitch guard, nothing more. I turned away from her, immediately disgusted at myself for comparing the two.
What the fuck was wrong with me? I berated myself, calling myself every loathsome, derogatory thing I could think of. What was wrong with me? Kagome was Kagome; there would never be another like her and I couldn't believe I let myself go in front of a complete stranger.
The woman began picking the shards out of my hair and shoulders. Obviously she was either deranged or had no idea what just happened. I wanted to slap her hands away, furious with myself, except suddenly for some reason I didn't really care enough to do so.
I felt drained. Who cares what she did? I wanted to be alone, but that wasn't possible, so I ignored the girl, letting her do as she pleased, while I thoughtlessly picked at some glass shards. Eventually my mind went blank and I relaxed, focusing on the presently soothing ministrations of the girl collecting shards.
Kagome was dead.
Kagome was dead, and hating myself for thinking about her wasn't going to change that. In fact, I should think about her; no one else alive will do so as I'm the only one left. Loving and commemorating her is how she lives on, I reasoned. With me around to remember she'd never truly be gone.
I closed my eyes as the girl continued finger combing my hair, massaging my scalp once the knots were out. It felt so good. It had been so long since someone took care of me...I just wanted to lie down and go to sleep.
My head lolled. Time passed in a blur as I focused only on the sensations. Something deep within my belly stirred; it just felt so fucking good I couldn't help it. At the time I didn't even think about fighting the pleasurable sensations or the physical reaction it was causing, making my jeans feel tight and constricting. In fact, I reveled in the way her breath caressed my neck, and how she was practically panting as her hands adeptly worked my scalp. I was nearly asleep when she touched them, sending a jolt of ecstasy straight to my nether regions, both surprising and scaring me at the same time.
Instantly I recognized exactly what we'd been doing. Before I even turned around to face her I heard the cunt giggle, enjoying the effect her touch had on me. In a flash I was on my feet and looking down at her angrily. How dare she make a fool of me? I'd kill her!
The look of horror on the bitches face stopped me from doing anything rash. Once again her fearful scent filled my nostrils. I didn't understand this girl. First the embodiment of innocence—blushing furiously at having to be near me, unable to meet my gaze without hiding nervously behind me; I may have been reminiscing, but her Kagome-like, nativity and the natural, trusting, complacent look she gave me was what spurred the comparison in the first place. Then, unexpectedly she was lulling me into a false sense of security, calming and seducing me with her whoreish hands, and now she looked horrified again, and not by me, but by herself. The scent of her embarrassment mixed in with the fear told me it wasn't my wrath that concerned her, but her own behavior. That fact didn't quiet my rage, but it did stop me from promptly killing her.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, my voice calm despite the anger whirling inside me. It was a genuine concern of mine.
Her mouth opened and closed a few times. She looked horrified. The bitch was too frightened to speak and I hated her for being scared of me. It made me want to be less angry with her. I brushed the feeling off and took a step closer.
"I asked you a question." I wasn't if I asked to goad her or because I wanted to know why the fuck she was touching me like that. I was still hard and that fact made me even angrier. Why the fuck had she fucking touched me!?
"You fucking human," I exploded," You dare touch me?" The girl recoiled, her face twisting in fear. I prayed she'd die from it. I moved closer, allowing myself to tower over her and my face to reflect the disgust I felt. How dare she do this to me? The fury I was feeling was making my body forget the physical reaction it had to her touch.
"I-"
"Shut up!" I screamed at her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I grabbed the girl by the wrist, and wrenched her towards me so that we were eye to eye. "Do you know who you're dealing with, girl? Do you understand how easy it would be for me to snap your wrist in two?" Something in the back of my head told me I was acting irrationally, like my old self. I didn't care. I watched her, fascinated by the look in her eyes—the way they dilated to allow as much light as possible, the way they darted around looking from my face to my eyes to my hand around her wrist and back again. I hated her so fucking much...
It was her fault; she made me compare her to Kagome, she tried to seduce me, she made me...react to her touch, and I hated the bitch for it. And then she slapped me. Hard. Across the face. It knocked the anger right out of me.
"Now you listen here," she told me as I stared, slack jawed, "you're the one acting all weird. I didn't know your ears were so sensitive so like, how could I know that when I touched them it would hurt you.
"If you like, have a problem with me just tell me; don't threaten me, and don't talk to me like I'm diseased, okay?" Then suddenly I was holding air and the girl was behind me, striding angrily back to her seat facing the bed. I turned to look at her. When the girl saw that she had my attention she told me to be nice or not speak at all, and sat down matter-of-factly. What the fuck just happened?
First off, how was I the one in the wrong here, and secondly, how the hell did she get all the way over there? It took me a moment to recall that she was the witch that could make objects transparent. She must have made either herself or me see-through to get out of my grip and behind me. That's one problem solved. Next, why the fuck was I the one in trouble here? She was the one that started touching my ears and playing with my hair. All I wanted was someone to help me pick the shards out of the hard to reach areas, and she...
No, that wasn't it at all. I didn't think she would actually help me. I also didn't stop her when she first started touching me in the first place, nor did I say anything when it escalated into something less than innocent. It was my fault. The girl didn't even know my ears were sensitive like that—she thought I grew angry because she hurt me when touching my ears.
When a girl doesn't understand the difference between shouts of pain and pleasure, you know they're innocent in more than one sense of the word. As my body clearly showed anyone that cared enough to look, what she did to me clearly caused pleasure, and that's probably (definitely) why I got so upset.
I sat back down on the bed in my usual position. I knew an apology was in order for over reacting like that, but it was the last thing I wanted to do. I did it anyway before going back to my own thoughts, ignoring the gleeful look she wore right up until Logan and Kurt appeared in the room.
"Heelloooo!?" It was the girl; she had asked me something. I had been too busy ignoring her to notice. When I looked at her she repeated the question. "So, do you like, think Logan and the others knew what happened?" I shrugged. I had no idea. Logan did stop exactly in the spot where I threatened the girls' life. Even if the camera didn't have sound it would have shown how I grabbed her roughly and yelled in her face. However, Logan and Kurt ported in after the potentially disastrous situation had been diffused.
"Yeah, I don't know either. I think they might know we got into a fight, but like, I think they know it wasn't a big deal." Not a big deal? I nearly broke the girls arm! "If they ask I'll tell them that I was helping you with the glass and like, accidentally hurt you, okay?"
She was blushing profusely and refused to meet my gaze. If I didn't know any better she was asking me to cover for her—not that anyone would ever think to ask me what transpired. The girl went on to tell me how it was okay to have sensitive spots and that when hit, certain areas were more painful for her than others. "It's like when I hit my funny bone!" Yeah, not so much.
I tuned in and out. It was high school all over again. Why did humans always think that what they were saying was worth listening to? Why did they always assume someone cared enough to listen? Probably because someone always did care enough to listen.
I never understood the concept of small talk. If it wasn't important, why say it? It's impossible to appreciate anything when you're always trying to think of something to say. Humans really need to learn to relax and appreciate silence.
Kagome did small talk too. I have this theory that Kagome assumed that if we weren't conversing about something we weren't enjoying each other company. The only difference, I suppose, was that back then everything she said seemed absolutely fascinating. Kagome would tell me about school and exams and technology and to a poor, dumb hanyou like me it was all gold.
More often then not it would be Kagome talking to Sango, Miroku, and Shippou. They continued the discussion and kept the flow of conversation going smoothly, so I rarely contributed, but I'd always be listening. I reflected on how much I hated asking questions about anything back then. It made me feel stupid having to admit I didn't know something, and Kagome was just so smart... Whenever I asked about anything it was always in an overly aggressive manner that caused some kind of quarrel between myself and one of the others. Anger was always my first response to anything—a bad habit I suppose. It's not like that now. If the gang could see me now...
However, I'm still not used to being here—in her era, I mean. I'm comfortable here now and I consider it ten times better than mine, but it's still hard for me to consider this home. I know I can never go back to the Sengoku Jidai, but that's where I'm from and where I was supposed to be. Even now after all these years I treat every situation as though I were back. I sniff for possible threats any time I go anywhere; I note exits, entrances, hazards, and people when walking into buildings. I'm still tense and fearful on the night of the new moon. It's ridiculous, I know, but old habits die hard.
All those old habits made me strange, at least to humans. Honestly, it would have been impossible for me to be anything but strange, with me being stranded sans anyone in a new place thousands of years in the future and far from anything I knew. It was almost as bad when I moved to the America. At least now I know what all the fuss was about, I suppose. It made me feel guilty for giving Kagome so much shit when all she wanted to do was go back for a quick shower and nap in her warm, comfy bed.
"...so they should be bringing you food like, really soon. Are you actually gunna eat this time?"
I grunted equivocally. The girl took it as a yes, which suited me just as well as the alternative. She launched into her thoughts on nutrition and cooking.
Although it's been getting difficult to keep track of the days—with nothing to do they've been running together—it's probably been almost a week since my imprisonment with the Witches. I've refused food and water since then, thinking they might be trying to slip me something to make me easier to manage. After today's events that doesn't seem likely, but I'm not willing to take any chances. It'll take a good strong dose for normal meds to work on me, but I am half human and my body should metabolize most drugs same as a full blooded one when I'm given the right amount. Better safe than sorry.
I paused my train of thought; two American mottos in less than an hour? I really am getting used to this place if I'm making their colloquialisms my own.
In any case, though I don't need to eat or drink as often as a human, I will need to do so at some point soon. I was already feeling the effects of my lack of water intake. If I were to become dehydrated I'd either die, or get sick enough to force the Witches to get me some unwanted medical attention. Furthermore, since human food has never tasted the same to me since Kagome, I've taken to my old ways of hunting and eating my meat the normal way: straight off my unlucky victims back.
Unfortunately since a hunting excursion doesn't seem to be a part of my near future I'd have to figure something out soon. In the mean time I'll risk the water, and torture my captives by trading glasses often. Even if they spike one, two, or even three of my beverages, they won't get them all, especially if I "accidentally" spill them after a few sips.
"...and then everyone totally refused to eat them! Like, seriously, how rude is that?" I shrugged. "Okay, maybe you're right," she continued, "but it's not like I meant to give them food poisoning!" I blanched, wondering if I was doing the right thing by not touching my rations. She giggled at my response, then proceeded to explain where she got each of her recipes from.
I sighed softly and settled back into my seat. Either it was the lack of food and water or the girl prattling on and on (and on, and on), but I was getting a headache.
-Kitty-
Inuyasha nodded in approval as I told him about my recipes. He seemed glad that I was getting better with my cooking, but shocked when I told him I gave a few of the students' food poisoning once. Since we both settled down after our argument, we were having a pretty nice conversation. He wasn't nearly as bad as the others make him out to be; they're probably being jerks because they're judging him without getting to know him.
We don't know Inuyasha is a killer, we just think he is and the Professor isn't letting him out of his sight till we find out the truth. Unfortunately Inuyasha isn't really making this easy for us, but I think that's just part of his personality. He can't help being who he is. It would be like asking Logan not to be so aggressive all the time. There's a reason why he's codenamed Wolverine.
The more I spoke to him, the more I started believing that he was innocent. We never did have any concrete proof; he was just the mutant that was the closest match to the real murderer. I told myself that I would do whatever I could to help him prove his innocence. I'd talk to the Professor about how nice Inuyasha was, and maybe everyone will be a bit nicer to him.
There was a knock on the door and both Inuyasha and I were already looking at it expectantly when Tabitha walked in to relieve me. She was carrying a magazine—which technically wasn't allowed—and smiling. If I'd thought the Killer was actually dangerous I would have scolded her, but with luck they'll actually end up talking all night like we did all day.
"Everything go Okay?" Tabitha asked, waiting for me to vacate my chair so she could sit down.
"Mhm," I nodded, standing and heading for the door. If I was lucky maybe I could talk to the Professor before bed. "Later, Inuyasha!" I called, waving goodbye before I left. I didn't miss the strange look Tabitha gave me, but I did ignore it. Inuyasha didn't respond. He didn't even look at me. It must have been because Tabitha was there. I left; they both would learn that the other wasn't as bad as they thought. All everyone needed was time to figure things out.