every moment is the paradox of now or never [open]

[waymoremysterious]

There are very few moments in Raven's relatively young life that she can remember being truly stunned by something to such an extent that it literally changed everything, aside from one. The night she met Charles, when she was just a girl. She was shocked to discover she wasn't alone. There were others who could do things – special things – just like she could. It had given her a feeling in her stomach as though she'd been punched and had caused the world to seem to tilt a bit as hope exploded within her. Everything changed for her. It had been life-altering.

Now, however, she realizes she's going to have to add another time to that very short, extremely exclusive list. Because right now, she's feeling that same way again. Something huge is happening that is changing her entire perspective on life as she's always understood it. This time, however, it isn't because of what she can do but rather where she's wound up. Or, more importantly, when.

New York City in 2013. New York City she can handle. She's spent plenty of time in the city and knows how to survive just fine. But fifty years into the future in the blink of an eye? It's enough to make her wonder what else, exactly, is possible. Because even for someone who can change her shape to look like anyone she wants, time travel is a tough pill to swallow.

Not impossible, though. So while the situation is a heady one, it isn't enough to steal her composure for long. After a few heartbeats of staring with a somewhat slack-jawed expression at the date on the newspaper in a corner stand, she pulls herself together and turns to take in her surroundings more fully with a raised chin and speculative look. She isn't blue, as much as she longs to shed her "normal" human guise and return to her truly natural look. For the time being, though, she isn't trying to draw attention to herself. She just wants to blend in and figure out what in the hell is going on.

That's the last thought that goes through her mind as she moves away from the newspaper stand and, with her gaze still flickering from the shops to the people around her, Raven absently steps off the curb and directly toward oncoming traffic.

Comments

[postictal]

At long fucking last.

Took the clinic long enough to synthesize whatever the hell was in those precious white capsules - but it doesn't matter anymore, he has them, a freshly refilled prescription rattling in his pocket, and he doesn't have to worry about that thing scratching at the back of his head like a dog waiting to be let out -

Yeah. Definitely not thinking about that anytime soon.

Or the too-tight grip of a dying man as he writhed in agony, bleeding to death from an injury that didn't exist and god but Tim cannot keep his mind from wandering back to that grotesque mental snapshot. That gaping, lingering nothing that comes from knowing that Jay's, well, he's -

The loud blare of a car horn shatters that thought.

"Shit - " Tim startles and realizes a second later that the car isn't even honking at him, but at some lady crossing the street. Wandering into the street, more like, and Tim can already see the ways this could end and none of them are good endings, and so what if maybe he's seen too many people kick the bucket lately after a grand total of one guy. Seeing it happen to the same guy twice counts for worse. Probably. And so it's the prickling rush of adrenaline and the reckless realization that fuck it, he does not care that sends Tim reaching out to snap a hand around the woman's arm.

"Get out of the street," he hisses.

[waymoremysterious]

As though him grabbing her isn't enough to shock Raven back into her senses. The command he hisses at her is met with a look that goes from confusion to irritation in a nanosecond. Her eyes narrow as she steps back onto the sidewalk, ignoring the shouted insult from the passing car, then twists her arm and pulls it free.

"Thanks," she utters with absolutely zero sincerity. "Guess my mind was elsewhere." Like fifty years in the past. Her look turns speculative as she stares at him. Maybe he knows something. Should she ask? If she does, she risks him thinking she's crazy. But that's fine. It's not like she knows him, and he can't really do anything to her.

Besides. What are her other options?

Before she can change her mind, she blurts out rather unceremoniously, "You wouldn't happen to, um, know anything about time travel, would you?"

[postictal]

As soon as she wrenches out of his grip Tim shuffles back, hands up, palms out. Never mind he just saved her the trouble of a broken bone or twelve, but whatever, he's not one for being grabbed by strangers either. But she seemed so lost and it's downright Jay-esque when he really thinks about it, just wandering right into an extremely obvious danger without any kind of self-awareness - and nope, he's definitely not going down that road right now.

He looks at her skeptically from beneath lowered brows, hands dropping to his sides.

"Just came through, huh?" he asks dully. "Lemme guess - you were somewhere else, and now you're here."

[waymoremysterious]

"Got it in one," she admits easily enough, arms crossing over her chest in a unconsciously defensive gesture. She offers a faint grin - one that doesn't quite reach her eyes - and quirks an eyebrow. "And according to the New York Times, I'm about fifty years from when I'm supposed to be." Again she's struck with how ridiculous she sounds but, well, if this is the new crazy that's become her life, she figures she might as well embrace it.

And if it's something else - someone pulling a fast one, someone inside her head or throwing around an illusion - she'll deal with that all in due time.

"So you said just came through," she comments immediately on the heels of her last statement. Might as well cut to the chase. "What's that about?" She considers, briefly, introducing herself but can't decide which name to offer. She ponders the issue while waiting for his reply.

[postictal]

Fifty years? He lifts his eyebrows, unable to fully suppress his surprise despite the numb veil of unreality that's mantled itself over everything since - yeah, he's holding to that promise where he doesn't think about things he doesn't want to think about. Tim went back a year but fifty sounds kind of, what, gratuitous on the Rift's part? Whatever. He's not gonna make a habit of examining the damn thing's motivations. Not anymore than he has already. Not after all it's done.

"It's a Rift," he says, shoulders rising in an incomplete shrug as he pushes his hands into his pockets. "Uhh, it like - sends people through time, space. Dumps them in Manhattan. Which is here," he adds helpfully, opening a hand vaguely to indicate the city.

[waymoremysterious]

A Rift. If that's meant to get some kind of response from her, it isn't working. The word means nothing to her aside from the obvious definition, but she doesn't analyze it for too long. She's far more focused on what the thing apparently does. Sending people through time and space? It's a dangerous game, even in theory.

"I've been here before," she replies absently before realizing how that sounds. With a slight shake of her head, she elaborates. "I mean, I've been to Manhattan before. I grew up less than an hour away from the city." She's spent more time here than she cares to admit, although she does find herself curious how much it might have changed over the past half of a decade.

She also decides on the spot never to think of the time lapse she's found herself in as half of a decade again.

"I'm Raven," she finally decides to offer, settling on the name given to her rather than the one she picked for herself. She opts against a last name, for now. The less she reveals about herself, the better, and only goes with her given name because it's a whole lot more forgettable than Mystique.

[postictal]

Oh, well, good for her, he guesses. Fifty years is a hell of a long time to not be in a place, but if she's been here before maybe she won't find the sheer overpowering amount of people so utterly, paralyzingly terrifying.

Yeah, that might be a plus.

"Tim," he says, faintly relieved to be putting the conversation back within normal limits. One hand hangs out of his pocket, indecisive over whether he should be holding it out for her to shake or what. He probably missed the window, yeah? Yeah. He jams it back into his pocket and tries not to feel awkward about pushing forward with being informative and comforting to what is apparently a newbie, seeing as neither of those things are really his forte. He doesn't have fortes. Mostly he just doesn't interact with people, period. It's safer. For everyone.

"It's, um, I know it's a lot. Happened to me too, a few months ago." He looks at the sidewalk, scuffed over by countless feet. "There's no way back. Nothing anyone's found."

Unless the Rift decides to take you back. And kill you while it does it, leaching your life out from a gunshot wound that isn't there.