[Sigyn]

A few days after Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better

She still hadn't seen the surface yet. With all the activity throughout the tunnels, it was hard to think there was yet another world waiting above. She hadn't yet dared explore the tunnels on her own, knowing very well she could easily get lost or perhaps even stumble upon something she shouldn't. Without her sorcery to rely on or her precognition to help guide her decisions, she didn't chance doing a thing that would remind anyone of her presence more than necessary. Many of these mutants regarded her with suspicion, even hostility. She was an outsider of the worst sort, a human (regardless of how much that devastated her) who clearly lived in privilege, regardless of how little of that privilege they could possibly imagine. She was a constant reminder of a world they were born into and would never fit into, yet here she was, hiding with them, when she could fit in in an instant if so she chose. If she could even understand.

She couldn't speak for any of the mutants, but from what she could observe it was her lack of understanding that unnerved most of them. How she looked at them with her big, brown eyes, wearing only Jono's jacket when she first arrived, with only the slightest sign of fear amongst her curiosity. She might've been that exhausted, as when she finally had some 'grub' and a place to sleep she promptly passed out for a full day. She had begun in Asgard's keep attempt to look out onto the field of battle, then foresaw the green light before it transported her to another world, finally being found by Jono within the strange tunnels she wandered and being brought to his strange home. She was not used to so much fear or adrenaline, never in her life, it was no wonder she was exhausted. Whatever debate about allowing her around, whatever doubts concerning her had been made, she had slept through all of it, knowing only this: she would be allowed to stay.

She had thought it would've been up to Jono (actually, she wasn't even sure if it wasn't, in the end) but it turned out he was no lord of these people--that these people didn't even have lords. They had leaders, Sigyn observed that much, but as she tried not to ask too many prying questions she couldn't say she knew much more about them aside from the obvious. They were mutants--a term Sigyn understood as anything with an intelligent, self-aware consciousness that was wasn't strictly human (the distinction between 'mutants' and 'superhuman' was luckily something she had not yet needed to determine)--in hiding as humans wouldn't accept them. Wouldn't, couldn't, it was all so unsure, but either way Sigyn understood the fear they all hid from, the fear that lied within the base of their entire society. It was a world of fear and hiding, the opposite of the proud, warrior world she knew. The first couple days she doubted she could ever find a place here, between knowing Asgard would always be her true home and that as a human (however lost) this couldn't be her place. She was only here because Jono promised to protect her. As far as she was concerned, she belonged to him, at least for the time being. She couldn't take care of herself and she decided to trust Jono, for better or worse, but she couldn't be around him all the time.

She knew she was not the easiest person to be around, but she tried. She did not wander off, she did not intrude upon others, yet at the same time she did not want to simply be a dead weight. Just as in Asgard, everyone here had their place, but it was a place dependent on usefulness rather than birthright. Birthright made her a lady, taught her a place, but a place without any particular use. She only realized this when she tried finding a place here, at first believing she had no useful skills. The less use she was, the lower down the rank she was here (from what she had gathered) and she was not used to being at the bottom. It unsettled her, for without a skill, there had been nothing for her to do. She was not used to being idle. If not socializing, she studied sorcery. She danced, she painted. The most useful thing she initially thought of was her knowledge of herb lore, but did Midgard even have the herbs she knew? No, it wasn't until she thought about what she liked to do most, something she enjoyed so much she initially dismissed it as indulgent, that she realized she had one skill: sewing.

She preferred weaving tapestries and these stone walls could certainly use them, but with all the clothes constantly ruined due to mutations or clothes that simply fell apart or were scavenged, there was a more imminent use of her skills. She requested a chance to be of use and once she showed her quick skills with a needle, piles and piles of clothes were brought to her little corner of their main area. She had not her usual stood to sit upon, only a pile of clothes she deemed beyond repair, nor the light pooling in from any windows, but the feeling of needle and thread was the same. Well, the needle drew blood far more easily now than before, but other than that the motion was the same. Matching the limited colors of thread they had to fabric. Determining the best type of weave. She wished she had more thread to embroider designs onto the strange clothing, but there were so many repairs to be done it hardly mattered as long as it kept her occupied. Occupied, and useful. Perhaps it was repetitive, perhaps it was almost dull, but there was a certain satisfaction in knowing something she did would keep another person warm.

She practically swam in the shapeless tunic found for her, but it kept her warm and even had a large pocket and a hood (along with a strange line of symbols--COLUMBIA--written across the chest). It was shockingly short on her compared to the dresses she was accustomed to (it didn't even reach her upper thighs!), but she knew better than to complain when she observed clothes-wise she fit in. She might've squirmed at the feeling of leggings--oh, her mother's heart would've stopped to see her daughter wearing leggings--but at least she was familiar with that menswear (if not the strange, shiny fabric). The undergarments expected of women...she was accustomed to the constraint of a bodice, but the awkward half-spheres they expected her breasts to rest in befuddled her, not to mention dug into her sides with its metal wires and her shoulders with its tight straps. Embarrassingly enough, she had needed the garment explained to her, and once she finally had it on she was reluctant to take it off simply to avoid the complexity of figuring out its odd clasps once more. The cleverly fitted tubes of cloth covering her bandaged feet, however, were another story. She found these 'socks' quiet comfortable, even if they were too long and stretched over her leggings halfway to her knees. Her feet were healing far more slowly than she found acceptable without sorcery or proper herbal balms, but that might be due to her never harming herself so badly and her sudden mortality.

As if she needed more reminding, she pricked her finger with the needle. She didn't flinch, but she didn't feel any less like a pincushion and the line of pins she held between her lips only accentuated the thought. She stuck the needle in her mouth and folded in the hem of the dress she worked on, taking one pin from her mouth at a time to hold the hem straight. She was so engrossed in her work (and the metal determined to press through her skin into her ribcage thanks to her undergarment) she hardly noticed another presence, dismissing it as one of the many mutants she carefully averted her eyes from. Staring was exactly the thing they came underground to avoid, and she was well bred enough to keep her eyes downcast even as someone came closer.

[Gepardok]

Chantal was nervous. Chantal was twitchy. Chantal wasn't sure how to take this. And Chantal was--well unpredictable feeling right as this point. But that was the norm...for her anyways. She was moody sometimes. Cranky at others. And at every other time--sheesh, we won't even get into that one. But then again--weren't they all like that at one point or the other?

Moving on now!

The cheetah like mutant was plenty aware of the rather human looking visitor to their realm. The blonde headed one that Jono had somehow ran into and managed not to loose on the way back in (-insert mutter here-). How the young girl weaseled her way in here--she would never know. But Chantal did know one thing. She wasn't happy about it. None at all. She had voiced said uncertainly and unhappiness about this when she had first appeared. But somehow she had been outvoted. Nobody else seemed to think it was too much of a problem. Nobody seemed especially oh so thrilled about it either but they all just rolled with it. No one seemed to think about how horrible an idea this was. And the consequences that could come from it! No one but Chantal that was. And being so utterly outvoted and not heard like that really set her on edge. It was like no one even cared.

Which was also why she had made it her plan to avoid the other like the plague. Any time the other came into where she had been, Chantal had excused herself. Or said that she had some other things to attend to and that she had to get to them. Even if she hadn't. Or they were some frivolous thing that could have waited until later--she left. Just to avoid the other seeing her too much. Chantal didn't want any part of the other. Cause she knew the blonde was judging her. Judging all of them. And when (no if--if) she got out of here, she was going to rat them out. Cause humans were like that. All human were in it for them and them only. They wanted something out of them. Chantal knew that from bitter experience and this one could be any different. She was sure of it.

Okay so she might be unjustly lumping the blonde in with every anti mutant bigot she had run into before. But that was just how she was. Anyone outside of Xavier's was not worth really knowing in her mind.

Chantal had been wondering towards her quarters yawning softly. Yet smiling too. Some of the younger kids who lived down here had wanted to play. And so play she did. She had given few of the little ones a piggy back ride. And one of them had accidentally (or maybe not so) grabbed her tail. She had given them that look---but ye gods, little kids...they about melted her heart. She really couldn't stay mad at them. But after about an hour to hour and a half, she was bushed. And so she had sent them off to find the metal man himself while she had taken a nap. And she was on her way.

Of course---someone just had to be in the way. Just had to be!

She saw the other and stopped in her tracks, jaw slightly clenched and eyes turned away. She waited to turn away, go back, get away...but she couldn't. There was only one way to the sleeping quarters. And none other. This chick--who was elbow deep in clothing now she really looked and paid attention--was in the way and Chantal had to be social now. Had to talk to her. There was no avoiding her this time.

"Hello." was all she got and a simple nod.

Social? Maybe not.

[Sigyn]

Pressing her lips together, she breathed in deep through her nose. She was startled, but it would do no good to show it. If anything, showing signs of weakness here was even more disdained than on Asgard, or maybe it was just that women were supposed to be just as tough as men. Ridiculous. Still, she knew better than to complain when she was so obviously the outsider and it was only by pity and compassion they kept her around. She wouldn't dare risk being thrown back into the labyrinth with the giant metal monster of G, let alone the unknown world of the surface itself.

Looking up at Chantal, Sigyn braced herself for any one of a number of oddities that could be shown before her and was relieved when the woman was only covered in cheetah fur. Only. Her eyes immediately found Chantal's tail and she turned pink with embarrassment. She shouldn't stare, she least of all people. She pulled the pins and needle from her mouth (last thing she needed to do was swallow a pin, of all the things she had made it through thus far to be killed by a pin...), sticking them into a wad of fabric and returning her eyes to steadily meet Chantal's.

"Hello," she greeted in return, a polite smile on her face as she nodded in return. She parroted others as much as possible. Jono had made it quite clear her speech patterns were not the norm, yet neither was his, which made attempting to adapt all the more frustrating. Perhaps it was a result of the way he communicated or the fact he was the first person she had met, but she found it easiest to remember how he spoke. She couldn't quite get the intonations of emotions (or occasional lack thereof) within her voice, but the general manner was there, and not without effort. She was used to thinking carefully about her words (when she wasn't near-naked and terrified on an entirely different planet without any idea how and why she was there, at least), but from her structure to her vocabulary there was always something off unless she spoke in the simplest of phrases she remembered others using. More often than not of late, her words were not her own, only phrases whose meanings she understood and structures she had to slowly dissect for herself and compare to the tongue she knew. Half the time she wondered if she was simply speaking a different language entirely.

"How are you this..." She faltered. She tried speaking too quickly, too eager to be fluent and too aware if she allowed any silence it would only be taken as insulting. She understood they thought her as judging, and to a degree they were right. She was judging them, all of them, judging them just as much as she'd judge humans or anything else on this planet--judging them to see if they were safe to be around, judging them to see which of them would harm her or take pity on her, judging them to understand their actions and how to best survive in their world. She didn't judge by Asgardian standards, though, not by beauty or little else as everything in comparison was simply strange. Living underground was strange, cooking one's own food was strange, scavenging to survive was strange--there were few things Sigyn didn't consider strange, to the point where she just considered Midgard itself strange and accepted it as it was. What else was there to do? She could not teach them the ways of Asgard--the idea seemed preposterous even to her, let alone how mad it would be to them. She couldn't even form a single question without hesitating.

"...my apologies, I cannot tell if it's morning or night beneath the ground," Sigyn admitted with a nervous chuckle, looking back down to the dress she had been working on. She folded it carefully, giving herself something to do with her hands and preventing herself from staring. Once she chastised herself enough within the span of a few moments, she looked back up to Chantal and tried to keep her eyes locked on her face once more. "Do you know?"

[Gepardok]

Chantal was tempted to just turn around and go back the other way. Yes even more so then she had been five seconds ago. She didn't want to chat with this human, to talk with her, to be in he same vicinity as her at this point. She was already nervous and anxious and she hadn't been around the other but for a moment or so. Sure the other looked passive and weak, but you couldn't judge a book by how it looked. I mean hell look at Jono--he had to be one of the most unassuming people if you were looking at him with all his clothing on. But he had one of the most powerful forces living within him. So you couldn't just assume anything. And she was...human!

She could be a spy. She could be someone who was pretending to be lost and lonely so that she could get to them. And then betray them all and turn them all into some fanatical anti mutant group and then they'd all be killed. Okay so that was a very extreme example...but you get her point. This could all be an act...an act that he fell for and they could all pay for in the end. Thus why she was anxiety ridden and nervy and in turn very snappish towards the new arrival.

Yet she was so polite...no matter if she grumbled or not. And that set her on edge too. She supposed she would have been more accustomed to snappy retorts, sarcasm and general smart assery....cause that was what they did done here. They weren't all happy happy, joy joy...trust me. And they hardly got along all the time. And so this whole being polite....thing...wasn't something she was used to okay!?

Chantal's eyebrow rose ever so slightly as the other spoke then paused. The feline mutant's muscles tensing as she stopped. What? What was wrong? What did she do? Why did she stop talking? What was going to happen now? She didn't like silence....well when inserted between speaking that was. You wanted to say something...then say it! Don't beat around the bush for God's sake! Just spit it out! That set her on edge just as much as anything else did. And yes--there were some things out here that didn't make her tense---just not at this moment.

God she hated this. Could she just go now? No--of course not. Meh...

The other spoke out again and it took a great deal of self control for Chantal not to laugh. She couldn't tell what time of the day it was. Hah! She really was an outsider. The Morlocks could tell what time of the day it was--even if they lived underground. They improvised. They had no other choice but to make do with what they had. It wasn't like humans let them choose otherwise.

She turned her attention back to the other with her muscles still tense. She spoke out, "Its round mid afternoon I'd wager. I suppose I'm doing all right...for what it is." she said in the same tight tone as she had used before. She just wasn't used to this...she really wasn't.

She supposed it showed....

[Sigyn]

The cheetah-woman wanted nothing to do with Sigyn. In return, Sigyn wanted nothing to do with her. Were this court, she could manipulate the woman's inability to hide her emotions, to hide her feelings, as easily as she wove her threads. Here, such an attempt would either go unnoticed or worse, be met with a slash of the woman's claws. Her hands---paws---had not evaded Sigyn's sight. She believed Jono would not harm her, but how much he could prevent anyone else from harming her remained to be seen. The pink one helped with that, after her initial shock of seeing her cradled in Jono's arms, and interwoven with her toughness and hostility was a caring core that almost reminded Sigyn of her own mother, except Blink's core was easier to observe. After all, Sigyn had to learn how to craft her masks, her emotional control, from someone. But not even her mother could prepare her for this.

Her masks were cracked, spiderwebs of nervousness and fear marring her once unshakable facade. She did not try to pretend they did not exist, not when the cracks grew by the day. But cracks and outright not having one was something else entirely, no matter how much the woman tried to conceal her emotions. Sigyn knew nothing of fighting, but the subtle adjustments of a person's physique were something she had learned to read just as she learned to hide her own. The woman's tension, the woman's hostility, were so painfully obvious not even Sigyn saw it worth keeping the smile on her face.

Her expression remained pleasant enough. "I thank thee," she responded, allowing curiosity to raise her eyebrows at 'for what it is'. Did she mean being within her presence, something that should be an honor to any Midgardian, mutation-empowered or not? Did she mean living beneath the sewers, was she not used to it by now? Hn, Sigyn could not fault her for that. For either, really, as she was no true Asgardian else she would not be conversing with this woman, if it could be called that.

She would not force it to continue. Forced conversation with such a hostile woman was more difficult than the silence. She could not bear it, not now, not when her smile had even grown far too heavy to bear. Except...

"Dost the sun shine, or do clouds block its rays?"

[Gepardok]

She should have been nicer you know. She really should have been.

It wasn't like she was willingly living down here after all. I mean who was crazy enough to do something like that?! It was the sewers for God's sakes. No one would be out of their mind enough to live down here under their own power. It was dark, dank and not to mention it stunk. You had no easy access to anything up top and if you weren't inventive, then you more then likely would die of boredom down here as well. No one would want that. Something must have happened. She did remember Jono saying that he found the other wandering the subways, lost and confused and all.

But still-- she was human. No matter how down on her luck she was, she was still one of them. One who was normal. One who judged. Who criticized. Who tried to hurt them. Sure not her personally, but she couldn't let that go. Let go of the past hurt. The past judgments. She just held onto that and then judged others. Judged them based on how she thought they judged her. It was rather hypocritical really.

She didn't even stop to think about how she felt. About living down here. It wasn't easy on them and it probably wasn't any easier on her. She was probably used to the fine things...the rich things...the luxuries...and now she was thrown into the exact opposite. Where you had to improvise...scrap to survive and luxurious? Not quite. But she didn't think about that. She didn't think about any of that. Her only worry was for the Morlocks. And their safety. And how she thought the other was jeopardizing all of that. She wasn't thinking that the other was actually okay. Oh no...of course not! She could be really selfish like that at times though don't call her out on it.

Chantal nodded as the other thanked her. Well she supposed if there had to be a human down here within their ranks--then at least she was a polite one. And not a jerk. Cause then there would have been trouble. Cause the cheetah mutant wouldn't have taken too kindly to that....

And then she spoke again. The words were riddle like and confused her for a moment. The confusion evident as she looked at the other with eyebrow raised. What did she mean by that? What was the point in asking her that? Then she figured it out. Oh was she trying to riddle her or something? Oh...okay...she got it now. Well two could play this game...

"Hmm it depends on what way you look at it. It could be one or the other. Or even both." she replied an inner smirk as she wondered how the other would take that.

[Sigyn]

Sigyn hadn't meant to propose a riddle. All she wanted to do was ask about the weather, nothing more, but the words she spoke were so different than the way of speech of the Morlocks it was a wonder she was understood at all. Words had never been troublesome for Sigyn. Spellcasting, yes, but manner of speaking had come as naturally as breathing. It had been required of her, expected, and her life had been a mass of expectations fulfilled as much as possible.

At least she had always known the expectations placed upon her. Now, she had no idea what to do, only make herself useful--something beyond her full comprehension. Her use was in her aesthetic, in her art. She brought beauty to the world, in her bearing and the things she produced, from weaving to drawing to painting. She was entertainment, in her singing and her harp-playing, in her discussions and her laughter. Things that might have been objectively useful--herb lore, spell-casting, precognition--had all been turned into petty tricks, something she never thought twice about until they were lost entirely.

Court mannerisms, however, had not been lost entirely. Her concern was they did not entirely apply to these mortals, these mutants in particular with their strange ways underground. As it was, she got the distinct impression the cheetah-woman was mocking her, or at the very least how she asked her question. On Asgard, she would not have allowed it. For the moment, she would have, but later it would have been countered with scathing rumors or, if the offense was so severe, a concentration of herbs to render her ill. Technically, it was poisoning, but in such mild concentrations she hardly would've used such an extreme word.

Her lips pressed into a thin smile. "I see. Thank you," she said, averting her eyes to her sewing. She did not have her normal weapons, no grasp of words or spells, she could not counter in any way she normally would given she was in no situation she was normally in. She could not risk the wrath of this woman and knew better than to do anything that would tempt it. Her place within the tunnels was tenuous enough, she could not risk souring any opinions.

"I apologize for disturbing thee," she said, neatly tying the end of a line and snipping it free from the needle. She folded the piece of clothing and added it to a quickly growing pile, then pulled another item and inspected where it needed to be mended. Lingering attention would most likely unnerve the woman more, as would being useless, both things the Morlocks could not abide by in their own, let alone whatever Sigyn happened to be.

[Gepardok]

Oh brother.

Oh brother, oh brother, and oh brother.

Chantal could have smacked her hand to her head had she really wanted to. The other had taken it the wrong way. Instead of just expecting it and taking it. She had taken it and twisted it around to make Chantal feel as if she had been the guilty one. It wasn't like that. It really wasn't. And besides---it wasn't like she wasn't trying to be cruel (cause trust me if she had been, the other wouldn't be as so beautifully unscathed as she was at the current moment). It just came out. It was like a second nature. A subconscious....thing that happened without her really meaning for it to. After all walls that were up a mile high couldn't just be taken down at the drop of a hat. No -- it took time. And time was exactly what the two of them had not had together (not that she had helped that mind you).

This was going to end oh so well.

She sighed internally as she tried to figure out a way to be sociable towards a human for a change. It was a weird thought to be sure. One she wasn't used to flowing through her brains. But that didn't mean she couldn't or rather shouldn't try. Plus she didn't want to hear an earful of it from Jono later if the blonde decided to be a little tattle tale and tell him about the 'big bad kitty' that was 'harassing her'. She heard enough of his gloom and doom on an every day basis--she didn't want to add angry and indignant to that mix.

No thank you.

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again. Like she was trying to say something and yet the words were not coming to her. And spoiler alert--they weren't. Eventually however she found her voice and spoke out, "You didn't disturb me. I--ahhh I don't mean to be bitchy." she apologized as best she could though she was sure that it sounded differently then she had meant for it to. It was different. Apologizing to what was essentially a human. A flatscan. Someone who normally tried to kill her and such. It was different. It was strange. And definitely unusual.

But she tried. She spoke her piece. And now it was up to the other. To either except the apology or not. To thank her or berate her. Really Chantal could have cared less what the other thought of her. That wasn't how she worked.

But considering that she was going to be living down here with the blonde---well she supposed that she should have been a least a bit more friendlier....

If only a bit...

[Sigyn]

Oh, but she had. Sigyn knew she'd disturbed the woman by simply existing. These humans disturbed the Morlocks as much as the Morlocks seemed to disturb humans. Sigyn had yet to see a human (let alone meet one), but the Morlocks retreat into the underground made that more than clear enough. She was an intruder, an unwelcome guest--nay, a violation of the sanctuary they had made for themselves. She held no doubt that had it been the cat-woman who had found her, she would have been brought to the surface and let loose among her "kind" long before being brought back to the tunnels. Sigyn knew little of this world, but knowing her place was something she had been taught to navigate from a young age.

It did not mean the woman's apology was no less appreciated. Glancing up from her task, Sigyn could see the conflict plain on the woman's speckled face. She did not want to apologize and she did not mean to be mean, but Sigyn was very much out of place down here. She would also be very out of place on the surface, for she did not hold the hostility towards mutants and if anything was becoming more hostile towards humans. She only had the Morlock perspective, the one where a woman would sooner be 'bitchy' towards her than have civil conversation. It was not meant to be insulting, it was defensive. Sigyn just so happened to look like those the woman typically had to defend herself from.

She nodded acceptance to her apology, a single bow of her head with her eyes focused on the woman. Sitting on the ground, up to her ears in worn clothing so sew, Sigyn still manage to make the motion no less than regal. She assumed 'bitchy' meant distrusting and mean, which would do, for now. Perhaps she was forgiving the woman for more than she meant to, but there was hardly another option without creating bad blood between them. Sigyn had only just arrived. She would not so easily jeopardize her place.

"Perhaps starting anew wouldst be best?" Resting her sewing beside her, Sigyn rose to her feet and found herself pleasantly surprised that the woman was taller than her. Only slightly, but that alone was rare given the height of the other female Morlocks she had yet to meet. "I am Sigyn." She bit back her name, her title, the sentence feeling far too short. Her knees bent slightly before she stopped the curtsey, the wheels clearly turning in her mind as she remembered Midgardians did not do that in introductions. "I...I understand my presence be unwarranted, but I truly mean no harm. I assure thee, once I am rescued, I will encroach on thine hospitality no more."