f2020 | they built paradise

Entry tags:

they built paradise

WHO: Joshua Foley and YOU!
WHERE: Krakoa
WHEN: ~2019 and back
WHAT: Backdated events! Before his kidnapping.
WARNINGS: nsfw here and there!

OPEN PROMPTS.

a diplomatic visit. ~ two years ago

[ this is a necessary evil. if they want to maintain their independence then they need to be non-threatening, or at least enough of an asset that allies are willing to let them be in exchange for a few favors.

no wonder scott summers lost his mind. his life is nothing but moving parts now. so little is stable and nothing feels certain - this empire is built on sand and the slightest rumble will make it fall. all of this has given him newfound respect for the mutants who had come before him, understanding them in a way he never could have back home... but still with the determination not to repeat their mistakes. if sacrifices are to be made, he intends for them to be his.

and it doesn't leave a lot of time for himself - not when he feels like he's promising parts of his soul to people, and sacrificing what's left to maintain the balance. he's tired twenty-four seven.

and it only worsens when someone docks at their harbor. he could leave this to the rest of the council, but he's always found it better to be the first one to greet a new arrival. lest they decide to try to turn the five into a four. ]

So glad you could make it, [ he says, hoping it sounds genuine. golden hands clasp the outstretched hand, his lips curved into a smile. ] Krakoa welcomes you.

beach day. ~ a year and a half ago

[ keeping krakoa running is a full time job. most of the population is too young to really care for themselves. joshua foley has gone from a largely irresponsible mess to - well, still a mess, but a mess with a ton of responsibilities. david's technology keeps him tapped into almost the entire population of the island and their health.

but sometimes? sometimes he needs none of that. he needs quiet.

the beaches are quiet during school hours. josh is sprawled out on the sand in a pair of black swim trunks, one arm folded behind his head, his eyes shut behind a pair of stylish sunglasses. when the shadow falls across his face he groans low and turns away. ]

Oh come on. I know nobody is dead or dying. [ he pushes the glasses up his face. ] Today is me time. Did we not establish this was me time?

stress. ~ a year ago

[ he doesn't remember what set him off. an article, maybe. something small to feed into growing paranoia. realizing that there's yet another person now on krakoa that shouldn't be. something small, something that he can't catch, and he knows there's no point in having that fight because they've had that fight and he can't justify it.

and so his office is in shambles. his fingers tangled in his hair, eyes clenched shut as he breathes hard. ]

Fuck!

[ he sinks slowly down the wall, gritting his teeth. he hears the door open. ]

Not the time!

WILDCARD.

[ hit me up at minimoffs @ plurk or shoot me a dm if you'd like to plan something specific or something off krakoa! ]

Threaded | Flat

[The door doesn't open very far, not at first, and Jane pokes her head around it to survey the general destruction before ignoring Josh's words entirely and slipping into the room. She closes the door behind her and briefly plants her hands on her hips...

But, no, not the time.

Jane picks her way across the room and crouches down beside him, lightly plucking at her skirt to arrange the fabric more smoothly across her knees.]

Can I help?

[It's a good point, and David spares a chuckle as he lays a towel out for himself. His own trunks are in a softer shade of yellow, because fuck it, his colors are a specific brand and he's sticking to them when they compliment Josh so well. And, once his towel is down and his glasses adjusted, David too is sprawling out.]

Well, Council Member Alleyne respects your 'me time' and isn't bothering it. Krakoa Resident David feels like he's earned a day off and has disconnected himself from all tech support requests that don't involve fire, and even those are going through an intern first. And your boyfriend...

[David smirks and lowers his sunglasses just enough to give Josh a very thorough and very obvious once over look. Yeah, there's something distinctly predatory there.]

Thinks that he's found the best view on all of Krakoa for his beach day.

[Josh is that view. He gets that, right?]

[ Truth be told, Five isn't really concerned about trivial concepts such as "me time", privacy, or taking a day off for the sake of mental health. It could also be said, in argument, that the Hargreeves siblings weren't raised in the best of environments, either.

Standing over the kid, it's evident to anyone who would bother to look that there are no footprints in the sand leading over to this place. Arriving in a sudden flash by the boy's side, he doesn't appear to look amused; then again, with Five, it's always hard to tell. ]

Who are "we", exactly?

[ There's a smell of fresh donuts as the ocean breeze rolls past. Caught in the middle of relenting to his own sweet tooth, he apparently thinks the scene merits some investigation. Five shuffles his donut box from under one arm to the other. ]

Apparently.

[ She knows that things have been escalating. The curve to the whole of Krakoa being unsustainable has been climbing upward since they started, and they're an inch away from critical mass. A lot of that weight is on Josh, which... It's not fair. Or necessary. But good luck to anybody who want to convince him of that.

Either way, she wasn't about to take a full-blown tantrum as a good sign. She walks into the office, anyway, the click of her heels disrupted as she moves to carefully step around scattered objects. ]

Did anything in particular happen, or...?

[ The thing is they don't get breaks, and they don't get off days, and they don't get to pretend. Even when the rest of the island is cheering, laughing, dancing into the night. They know the exact count of the sticks and stones, bricks and bones, and pools of blood all this world is precariously balanced on. Networks of words, and threats, and lies, and half-promise threaded with fear, more fragile than spider silk.

It means they don't get to fall apart, and they don't get to leave each other alone when they start falling apart anyway. Because they're all human, for as much as that word means what it doesn't (because some of them aren't). They're all fallible. They all break, too. Even five people isn't enough to truly carry the weight of an entire world.

Especially when one of them keeps taking far more on himself than he should. ]

Yeah, it is.

It is the time, until you stop being a dick.

[ That's Allison at the door, looking at the vast destruction of the room, and Josh curled into a wall, maybe the only one who wouldn't try to defuse Josh with soft words, with the promise things are fine, will be fine. That he needs to calm the fuck down and let someone hug him. Like that solves anything more for them either. She has two people for that, and on the worst nights, her worst nights, it doesn't make it better.

It just bleeds you drier on the nearness of what you have to lose even more.
Sometimes it takes more than compassion to just get it out of your head again. ]

[Eddie's finding power has become more powerful over the years. Sometimes there's an almost tug, pulling him to someplace he needs to be, even if he's not sure why. He's walking into the building when he hears Josh. He's got nothing against swearing. Fuck's one of his favorite words. There's a lot of stress in that tone though. That must be what's got his finding sense tingling. Eddie walks faster, opening the office door without a knock.]

It's just me.

[He skips asking if Josh is okay. He clearly isn't. Instead he asks.] What's wrong?

[His presence made, Judd takes a step back. He's learned people are very particular about the angle in which they absorb sunlight.]

I just wanted to see if you wanted anything.

Don't be a dick. Or else I'm gonna think that you don't enjoy my company. You might even hurt my feelings.

[ Jaime leans over Josh, holding a glass, sweaty with condensation, and decorated with a little umbrella over his head. With other people in charge, it's left Jaime ample time to stick to his own devices. And to do a little experimenting, as any young man on his own on a party island full of models will. The point is, he's pretty sure he can handle his booze as well as the Leader-Man can. ]

Here. It's on the house.

[ he doesn't know how long he's been in here. there's no way to mark the passage of time. they don't give him a consistent schedule. meals don't come three times a day. anyone here is careful to keep quiet. to keep him trapped in the isolation of his own mind, with nothing but the ache of his largely depowered body to distract himself with. the flood of his healing factor has been turned down to a trickle. his lethal touch can't even hurt a fly now.

josh suspects that without what's left of his powers he'd have been died a merciful death by now. his keepers come just often enough to keep him living and inflict new injuries on top of the old. he feels like a living wound, the only parts of him that don't feel pain are the parts that he's lost circulation in.

the door to the cell opens. josh barely moves. his hazy blue eyes open, focusing on the floor beneath him. ]

immediately post rescue. open.

[ he's in bad shape.

mentally, physically, emotionally - the year of isolation and torture has left him absolutely wrecked. he's running a fever, the wounds may not be infected but they are tender and have healed poorly. he's sick, coughing and shivering despite the heat of krakoa's topical climate - and he's lost a significant amount of weight, mostly just skin and bones under barely golden skin.

the power dampener takes work to get off. in the interim, josh is hooked up to an IV full of nothing but painkillers to try to dull the pain. his unique physiology makes him as impossible to treat as ever. its highschool all over again. ]

recovering post rescue. open.

[ he's on strict bedrest. the kind of 'strict' that has friends and family checking in frequently, making sure he's obeying. there are guards all around, every effort is being taken to keep him secure.

he'd have complained about it once. now he just takes what comfort it brings, though he's left jumping at the slightest sound. the dark and the light are both too much, he ends up closing the blinds and plugging in a nightlight from one of the younger kids dorms.

the wounds are healing. slower than they usually would as he's far from full power, too scattered to do the job right and too far from his old normal to remember exactly how that should be. his scarred psyche leaves marks as its wont to do - there are thin black lines criss-crossing the worst of his injuries, body and mind working in tandem to leave a lasting mark. this won't be forgotten.

it takes a few days before he's taking visitors. then the doors are open. he's sleeping most of the time, and when he isn't, he's trying to catch up on everything he'd missed despite warnings not to. ]

'recovered'. open.

[ he's not completely fine and isn't certain he will be again. but the way he sees it - if he allows this to break him, then they've won.

the won because he allowed himself to be weak. tried to be xavier when he knew damn well how well that worked out. there was a reason he'd signed on with magneto by the end of his tenure in his own world. there was a reason he'd pulled back from the world here.

blind trust was a luxury he could no longer afford. looking soft and vulnerable would no longer be permitted.

his overgrown hair is cut short, the soft boyband locks styled into something trendier and sharper. something to compete with the white tower's chic, slick look. josh orders a suit from the tailor, something far different from the previous suits for these gatherings. gone are the soft white colors, the non-threatening pastels replaced with contrasts. and he goes to his office, sits down in his chair, and considers the future this move may bring. ]

I'm going to the Synod. [ he says, his jaw tightening. ] Stark thinks he's won.

[ his pale eyes flick up. there's something cold and merciless in his eyes where there'd once been hopelessness. resignment to their fate. ]

I'm gonna show him we haven't even started playing yet.

Threaded | Flat

~ stress

Beach Day

beach.

Stress Stuff.

no subject

no subject

beach day

beach