Coming Back

[Storm]

((This occurs after all threads that took place before this point, and several weeks after Out For Coffee))

Shortly after meeting Atticus at the coffee house, Ororo had come back to the Mansion, packed, and left for a trip abroad, leaving notes for the Professor and for one of the other faculty members who'd already agreed to take over her classes in the event of a trip. Instead of Africa, where she'd gone previously to assist smaller villages in many of the underdeveloped countries there, she went to Europe. This trip had nothing to do with helping others and every bit to do with helping herself.

That had been over a month ago, and now she returned, riding up in a hired limo rather then a normal taxi. The reason wasn't vanity. It was easier for her to ride in a limo with more room in the back then a taxi with very little.

She'd seen several doctors on her travels, some mutant but most human, after Atticus had told her what he'd seen. For a time, her condition hadn't worsened, but none of the doctors had been able to isolate what or where the virus was that Atticus had found. As the weeks passes, eventually the illness progressed, and she had found through investigation and a few contacts she'd maintained through the Professor a mutant with similar skills to Forge, who had been able to create something that allowed her to at least continue to walk.

The apparatus was clearly visible as she got out of the limo: a light, strong exoskeleton, designed to fit over her clothing and recieve various nerve impulses through a contact point at the back of her skull, and move the corresponding limb. Her method of walking was so awkward she required two canes to balance, and as a result, after he had assisted her out, the limo driver retrieved a briefcase from the back, containing the results of various tests and experiments. Her bags were in the back, but the driver was more concerned with assisted her then getting them, for the moment.

She looked up at the face of the Mansion. It was back to square one.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro had been...gardening. While Ororo was gone, he had promised to tend to her chores, as well as to be on alert, should she need him to rescue her. Fortunately, he had gotten no word of that duty, and as the limousine pulled up and she exited, he calmed with the knowledge that it would not *be* necessary. He rose from where he knelt in the dirt, dusted off his knees, and went off to greet her.:: "Ororo."

[Storm]

"Pietro." Her voice was as warm as she could make it, but distracted as she concentrated on the ground in front of her, not looking at him. Falling down in her condition would render her helpless. "I'm glad you're here." There was a subtle darkening of the sky, as clouds rolled in.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::The sky darkened somewhat, and Pietro glanced heavenward, before focusing on her again. Storms were unpredictable, after all. He offered his hand.:: "Can I get anything for you? Your bags?"

[Storm]

She glanced back at the driver, who was human and already looking around him with a sort of subdued apprehension, and at Pietro. It would be better if the driver didn't have to walk through halls crowded with mutants of every flavor, for everyone's peace of mind. "Please," she said, nodding at Pietro with an air of thanks. "The briefcase is the most important part."

[Pietro Maximoff]

"Easy enough, I'll talk it last," ::Pietro told her. If it was the most important parcel, he would find a way to balance it in such a way that it would not fall. He went down to the limousine, and began to gather her bags.::

[Storm]

The driver looked faintly relieved, and so Storm considered it a good plan. She took cautious steps forward and through the door to the Mansion, as the sky darkened further, enough for her to realize it. It was happening again.

Most of her trip through Europe had been relatively easy, with regards to her powers. She couldn't stop using them, and they didn't get progressively harder to control. Now, that was different, and she couldn't think of any other place better suited to withstanding what she did.

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro glanced at the sky again, as it continued to darken. They would have to go inside soon. He checked his pockets briefly, realized he had no money on him - nor would he, he had been doing chores - and he hoped that Ororo had tipped the driver. He gathered her bags, and then took the briefcase carefully, before following her into the mansion.:: "Are you tired?"

[Storm]

The driver had been paid in advance, tip included, so Ororo wasn't worried. At Pietro's question, she smiled wanly. There was little point in pretending. "I am always tired now, Pietro."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::Pietro frowned slightly. He still had difficulty accepting the situation, the reality of this. However, that was not a burden for her.:: "I can take you upstairs."

[Storm]

"The elevator would be better," she said, grinding out the words with difficulty after a moment. She was still managing stairs when she'd left, and it galled her not to now.

[Pietro Maximoff]

"I had meant that," ::Pietro said with no indignation. He disappeared for the briefest moment, to set her bags by the elevator, and then returned, offering his now free hands to her should she need the assistance.::

[Storm]

Occupied with both canes, she could not take his hands, instead making her way laboriously towards the elevator, though she nodded in thanks at the thought. Thunder sounded outside, and she waited until they were at the elevator before she said what she needed to. "If I'm going to be here, I may have to be sedated."

[Pietro Maximoff]

::When they reached the elevator, Pietro took her bags in hand again. To her remark, he asked,:: "That is you?"

[Storm]

"Yes," she replied. "And it will get worse." Her tone was flat, accepting.

She had taken a sleeping pill for the flight back, and asked the stewardess to wake her. The last two weeks in Europe had been spent in some of the most isolated places possible, while her powers wreaked havoc. It had been late summer, and storms weren't unusual at that point, even when they turned into tornadoes. She didn't want to see how much worse it could get here before she was put under or otherwise restrained.