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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 4, 2009 18:04:58 GMT -5
"No," ::Pietro said, eyes still on the road.:: "This isn't fair."
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Post by Storm on May 4, 2009 20:04:16 GMT -5
"Is it any more fair for someone to die young if they're hit by a stray bullet?" Ororo asked, philosophically.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 4, 2009 21:16:05 GMT -5
::This upset Pietro on a level which was difficult for him to express. Ororo was a close friend; she had been his first girlfriend, and was also akin to a sister. She was family, and this was the ultimate injustice to him. His voice was cold, not directed at her, but a necessary protection against otherwise displaying his emotions.:: "This isn't battle."
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Post by Storm on May 4, 2009 21:19:30 GMT -5
"Yes, it is," she replied. "I'm doing battle with something I can't see."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 4, 2009 21:22:26 GMT -5
"There are rules in battle," ::Pietro said. There was obligation, there was an inherent *reason* for death. This was pointless; it was cruel, and it ached.::
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Post by Storm on May 4, 2009 21:43:40 GMT -5
"We might be a different brand of human, Pietro," Ororo replied, not really feeling the truth in the words. "But we're still fallible. Sometimes it just happens."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 4, 2009 21:45:52 GMT -5
::Pietro could not utter the words which first came to mind, the plea that would do nothing. Instead, he retreated behind more childish rhetoric, an irony that might strike him were the situation not so dire. He repeated,:: "It isn't fair."
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Post by Storm on May 4, 2009 21:57:31 GMT -5
"Nothing is." It was true. There was nothing fair about getting ill, any more then there was fairness to the fact that mutants had little to no rights, that wars happened, that people starved. The world was made up of unfairness, and even though she understood Pietro's problem with it, as one who was about to be directly affected by it, it was all she could do to sit back and just take things as they came.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 5, 2009 21:02:21 GMT -5
::As they drove towards downtown, they found themselves stuck in Manhattan traffic which did nothing for Pietro's nerves. His hands tightened around the steering wheel to keep from honking his horn and earning a hundred dollar fine; at the comment, he remarked,:: "You sound like me."
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Post by Storm on May 6, 2009 20:15:57 GMT -5
Ororo's expression was wry, although she didn't know if he could see it as he drove. "That's what knowing you so long gets me."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 7, 2009 15:39:48 GMT -5
::Pietro could see her from the corner of his eye; her expression prompted his response,:: "I won't apologize for that."
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Post by Storm on May 8, 2009 19:35:51 GMT -5
"I didn't expect you to," Storm replied.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 9, 2009 13:02:57 GMT -5
"I know," ::Pietro replied, nor would he expect her to. She was one of the few who gave him no unnecessary grief about who he was. That thought pained him, when contrasted with what lay ahead.::
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Post by Storm on May 13, 2009 20:06:17 GMT -5
The only acknowledgment he got was a sigh from her, and she changed the subject. "Where are you headed?"
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on May 15, 2009 17:42:27 GMT -5
::Pietro had not had a destination in mind when he had begun driving; he had simply wanted to drive. However, with the question out there, only one answer came to mind.:: "The Village."
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