7650/Some Things Need to be Said

Some Things Need to be Said
Date of Scene:	01 September 2021
Location:	Clarice Ferguson's Quarters
Synopsis:	Clarice and Mystique have an unexpectedly emotional conversation about their respective families.
Cast of Characters:	Clarice Ferguson, Raven Darkholme

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Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    With the hour getting late, Cynthia has already turned in for the evening, leaving Clarice sprawled on her back on the couch - her legs dangling over one of the arms. She bounces them idly as she holds a comic book over her head, lips moving quietly as the mouths the words to herself, carefully sounding them out. She hadn't really expected it but, as difficult as she found it - she was starting to //enjoy// reading. Or at least - she was genuinely curious to discover what happened next in the story. Where were the dinosaurs coming from? And what the hell was going on with the boy's camp?
    She turns the page - letting out a quiet laugh at more strange antics from Ripley. Man. She's yet to meet anyone with //that// much energy...

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique had been busy throughout the last couple of days, chasing down leads and gathering the information for Tessa Fox. This Texas businessmen had been a busy little bee, and she wanted to make certain she had absolutely everything on him. Now that she was certain she did, she had returned to the Asteroid and felt it prudent to check in with Clarice. Nothing had happened, she knew that, but still... you check in with your second.

At night, the chimes on the doors were much quieter, in case someone was already asleep. Set to Genosha's time, night was upon them. Even the lights in the halls dimmed, allowing for those who were always here to have a day and night cycle, which was important for the body. She presses the chime and waits.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Laziness is a powerful motivator. Clarice is on the Asteroid - her home - and really there's only so many people who could come knocking, proverbially speaking, at her door at this hour. She doesn't bother with the back-and-forth, nor does she bother with getting up - instead she speaks a simple word of command. "Enter."
    With her feet pointed away from the door, she tilts her head back a little to see who was there - and a smile cracks her lips at the sight of Mystique's blue form. "Hey boss. Come on in - make yourself at home. Cynthia's already out like a light," she remarks. Perhaps a warning that they should endeavor to stay fairly quiet. There should be just enough space next to Clarice's head if Mystique wanted to join her on the couch - otherwise, there were the two office chairs...

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique slips into the room quietly, having expected the younger Ferguson to be asleep already. She was usually up earlier to attend classes.

Letting the door slide close behind her, she makes her way over to the couch. First she runs a finger along the bottom of Clarice's foot to see if she's ticklish, just one finger as she goes by, then she does in fact sit on the couch.

"You look comfortable," she offers as she settles in, crossing one leg over the other. "I'll stay quiet, I promise."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    There's enough of a twitch to indicate that - yes. Clarice was reasonably ticklish, though she also rolls her eyes in response to the gesture. "Pretty comfortable, yeah," she agrees, closing her comic and lowering it to her chest, as her gaze trains up on Mystique, who was now towering above her. "I'm glad you stopped by, actually. Met someone interesting today. I was having lunch with Hank, Kurt, and this ca-"

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique had just gotten comfortable, but she sits up quickly and turns at the same time, almost shoving Clarice off the couch in the process.

"You had lunch with Kurt? Does he look well? When was this?" she says quickly, voice filled with excitement, fear, and regret all at the same time.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Reactions from Mystique were usually subtle things - so this wasn't anticipated at all. The comic book tumbles to the floor, as one hand goes for the back of the couch to help keep her steady as Mystique abruptly shifts, jostling her. "Lunch. Today," she answers. She pushes herself up slowly, turning towards Mystique without ever taking her gaze off the older woman. "He's... fine," she answers. "We talked about Genosha - about the orphans. He offered to take one on as a mentor. ...but that wasn't what I was planning on telling you about."
    It was clear what she'd //planned// on telling Mystique about could wait, though.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
It's difficult but Mystique shoves it all back inside. Clarice can visibly see her struggle to put the mask back in place, but in the end it's there again. Standing back up she slowly paces around the back of the couch.

"I apologize," she offers quietly. Her face may have the mask in place, but her voice still shows that she is struggling. "Please continue."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice studies Mystique a moment longer before deciding, "Nuh-uh." She leans back against the back of the couch, resting her elbow on it, and putting her head on her hand. "No-can-do, boss. You first." There was a momentary flash of mischief on her features at this minor act of insubordination, before she schools her expression back into a more neutral, and curious demeanor.
    "What gives?"

Raven Darkholme has posed:
At the back of the couch Mystique stops, her back to the woman sitting there. There is no window in this room, no stars to look at, so instead she looks at that silly Campbells Soup cup, just stares.

Taking a slow, deep breath she closes her eyes, some of the control back into her voice, "You remember how I told you that there are some things I don't talk about, Clarice? This is one... I need to talk about, but..." the control starts slipping again. "... this is hard for me."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Some shit's hard to talk about," Clarice agrees - but not without sympathy. Though what it was about //Kurt// that could set her off so thoroughly...
    "Take your time," she says encouragingly before adding, "I've got some of the cognac stashed in my room." She continues to sit still, watching Mystique - while her mind tries to figure out what more she could say or do. Give her a hug? Or a hand on her shoulder? Hold her hand? ...call her mom?
    No. That last notion still felt particularly strange. Not that.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique glances back toward Clarice, the mask was slipping leaving behind just a mutant in pain.

"Cognac sounds good," she states. "It might help." Her eyes look back to that cup, it's a good focal point. "How about we start with the cognac, and I'll try to get this out for the first time in twenty-six years, deal?"

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "It's a deal, boss," Clarice agrees, her voice unusually tender on the last word.
    She leans in then, giving the other woman a hug, and lingering there as long as it feels right - before she'll push herself to her feet to retrieve the bottle and two glasses, stored in a cupboard in her room. She hands a glass off to Mystique first, giving her a generous pour before she'll serve herself as well. The bottle of expensive cognac is set unceremoniously on the floor by the couch.
    Maybe she should think about getting an end table or coffee table.
    She takes a sip in silence, sitting once more beside Mystique, her arm on the back of the couch close enough to barely brush magenta skin against blue.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Why couldn't all the rooms have windows? The stars were soothing, distracting, they were beautiful, a constant reminder that despite everything, the world, the universe was bigger than her own personal problems. The cup was amusing, it made her wonder just what the hell the purpose was, but it wasn't the same.

The hug is accepted, but she is distracted, in her own head, so not exactly returned, but she does seem to relax a little at Clarice's touch. Accepting the glass, she takes a large drink before finally turning around.

"This is going to be long," she starts slowly. "Back in 92, I got married to a man, to a Baron, Christian Wagner. He knew me as Raven Darkholme, different face then my real one, but we thought we were in love and I thought maybe, just maybe I could live a normal life. My mistake."

She takes another drink, smaller but still another.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    ...Wagner? Oh //shit.// The surprise registers on her features for a moment before Clarice hides it in her glass, taking a sip of its contents as she scoots a little closer to Mystique, letting her leg touch hers, and her shoulder press into her gently as well.
    "It didn't last?" she surmises simply, her voice soft.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique snorts, "It may have, if I hadn't been stupid."

She takes a quick glance toward Clarice, but has to look away. She needs to tell this in full truth, her own stupidity, the hatred that came as a result, everything.

"You see, after a year of marriage the Baron spoke constantly of wanting a child, of course he did, and I would have given him one if it hadn't been for two little problems. One, he was the worst man I have ever had sex with. He was beyond boring in bed once we were married, we're talking so boring I could have fallen asleep in the middle of it Clarice."

Another small sip is taken, "The other small problem. He was sterile, or perhaps his swimmers were just too slow." She snerks at that. "So bored, I went searching for something more entertaining, and I found it. I'm not giving those details, let's just leave it at I enjoyed myself and got pregnant."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    There was a brief smirk of amusement on Clarice's lips as Mystique talks about the Baron's... unimaginitive nature. She takes another sip of her cognac, while keeping her eyes on Mystique's glass as well. If it looks like she might run dry, she wordlessly tops off the glass. "I imagine he was happy to learn you were pregnant," she remarks in a carefully neutral tone. Or had the man learned by then his 'swimmers were sterile'?

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Now comes the really hard part, the part that woke her at night and made her want to crawl into a hole every moment of every day.

"He was, but his father wasn't," she replies with a hint of a smirk back on her face. "The old bastard knew his son was sterile, so there was no way the child could be his, but he didn't out right say that, he told Christian his doubts which made Christian doubt. So I had no choice really," she looks back to Clarice. "I killed the old bastard, an accident really, but while pregnant, I can't change forms at all, so at least the old man knew who did it."

Now her eyes went to the piano, she had never heard Cynthia play, perhaps some time she would. "I should have realized the risk," she then says. "Of allowing a midwife, or four as was the case. I honestly didn't think about it, I was happy and that was my mistake. While giving birth, I lost control of my mutation, for a few moments I went blue and all hell broke loose."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "The Baron wasn't the most enlightened sort, then?" Clarice asks quietly. She had a hard time imagining it - Mystique trying for happiness, //loving// someone who hated and feared mutants.
    But love was a strange thing, wasn't it?
    "You couldn't very well have given birth alone - could you? That would have been dangerous." And possibly suspicious as well, depending on how many doubts the Baron harbored. She takes another sip, still sitting close, with her shoulder pressed into Mystique's as she listens.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Finally she turns toward Clarice, looking at the magenta mutant. Her voice goes so incredibly soft as she speaks now, tears forming in her eyes. "Kurt was born as blue as he is now, beautiful to my eyes, he's so... beautiful," she pauses for another large drink. "I held him in my arms while listening to people screaming about demons and monsters, I listened to his first screams of life while people were gathering weapons."

She takes a deep breath and has to look back at something else, this time it's Cynthia's book shelf. "I can't tell you what that feels like, to hold your own baby," she continues. "But I had to run, I wrapped him and I ran because they were going to kill him, kill me, and I was already weak..." Her back stiffens, and she looks for a moment like she will stop talking. There is a uneasy silence for a few minutes that starts to drag on until she finally speaks again.

"I'm a horrible person Clarice," she whispers, more tears actually rolling unheeded down her cheeks. "I couldn't get away... I was... so tired, still bleeding. I had to choose... I... me or... him." She finishes off the cognac and her voice gets even quieter. "I choose me... I dropped him in a well in hopes that death would be instant and he wouldn't know their hatred... and escaped."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    As the silence drags on, Clarice lets her arm shift, draping across Mystique's back - hoping to convey some degree of comfort. She hates to think of Mystique so weak, and alone, and helpless. It runs to counter to the confident, deadly, capable woman she knows. But is there a more vulnerable time than childbirth?
    "No you aren't, boss," she murmurs quietly. "No you aren't." She smiles sadly as she adds, "God, it's stupid - but I wish so badly I could have been there for you - when you needed someone so badly. I didn't even exist. ...I still wish I could have been there."
    She gives Mystique a gentle squeeze with that arm draped around her, unsure what else she can do to provide any sort of comfort. No wonder she'd shut her down so hard, whenever she'd tried to pry. Whenever she'd so much as hinted at a four-letter-word.
    "You know what you are to me, yeah? How much you mean?" she says quietly. "Maybe you've done some horrible things." Okay, there's not much maybe about it. "But you're not a horrible person."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
It is taking all of her will to remain standing there, to not run and hide in a bottle or in the training room where she can kill things over and over again until she can't think and just passes out. She accepts the comfort for what it is, she knows, but she doesn't feel she deserves it.

"I do know, Clarice," she says softly. "I know this was a lifetime ago, but a part of me... died that day. I thought he died. I have no idea how he lived, how he was found, but the first indication that he was alive was nearly ten years later.... he was alive... my son."

Stepping away she collect the bottle to pour more cognac into the cup before she sets the bottle back where it was. Stepping back beside Clarice, because that closeness helped even if she couldn't say it. "He had a life, a family, I thought I could settle for that, that leaving him there was the right thing... and maybe for him it was, but me... no, it was the right thing. He turned out to be a beautiful, caring, wonderful man. I would have ruined him like I did Anna-Marie."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "He did. He is," Claice confirms. "He's a good man. A kind man. When I mentioned that I was looking for mentors - he didn't hesitate to offer." She gives a comforting squeeze of her arm before she adds gently, and quietly, "But he does wonder, you know. I don't know what he knows - but I know what he doesn't. He knows nothing about his mother, and he wonders. He- It came up today."
    She's silent a moment before she adds under breath, "Fucking humans..." Not all of them. But //those// ones? The ones that would go after a helpless infant, and a vulnerable woman?
    Fuck them.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique closes her eyes and for a short time just breaths, air in then out, collecting herself. When she opens her eyes she takes another sip of the cognac.

"I killed them," she then says calmly, bluntly. "Every... single... one. I had already killed Christian in my escape, but that village..." she laughs darkly. "I left the children... but one by one, I killed the parents when I was strong enough, I made them pay for what they had done to me, to ... Kurt."

She goes silent again, breathing slowly, "He wonders, about his mother... I suppose that's natural, but... would it be right, after all this time? I mean who wants to find out that I'm their mother? Certainly not a man as good as him."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    It's doesn't surprise her that she went back to that village and brought her own brand of doom. Hell, it'd be more surprising if she hadn't. "Good," is what Clarice says in response. "Fuck them." As far as she was concerned? They got what they'd deserved.
    She's silent for a time, still holding Mystique to herself as she tries to find the words for a response. She wanted to say the right thing - she wanted to help. Was there a //right thing// in a situation like this?
    There could certainly be a wrong thing, though.
    "I think..." she muses cautiously and carefully, "that when you're ready, you tell this to Lydia, too. I could be there - I could not be there. Whichever. I think you probably need to tell it again, and Lydia will accept it." She's certain of that.
    "Because I think you should approach him. I can talk to him for you, or we can talk to him together, or you can do it on your own, but- I think he can handle the truth. And I think you need this. That's what I think, anyways."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Staring off at the piano, merely to have a location to keep her eyes that isn't Clarice, Mystique takes another sip of the cognac. It was hard enough telling Clarice, in fact she was already regretting it.

"What makes you think Lydia would accept that I tried to kill my own child and abandoned him in a well?" She asks bluntly, still not looking at Clarice. "I don't like talking about this, it is single worst moment of my life, and that's even over my own parents trying to kill me."

She finally looks over at Clarice, "You say nothing to Kurt, and I mean /nothing/. Ever."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Boss..." Clarice says gently, resting her head against Mystique, and keeping one arm tucked around her. "I'm not going to say a word //on my own.// I wouldn't ever betray you like that," she promises. "Lydia accepts that murder people... for fun, essentially. Why do you think she wouldn't accept this? You were weakened, and trapped with few options. She would want to support you, like I want to. I'm sure if it."
    She gives Mystique a squeeze. "I think you should tell her. Not quite yet, I think you need a little more time. But you should, and if I can help with that, I will."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique lets out a long, slow breath, almost a sigh really but not quite.

"I know you wouldn't say anything," she admits. "I just... I get flustered when it comes to this. I want to tell him, I don't want to tell him, I don't want it to have happened at all, but that's just stupid to even think because you can't change the past."

Finally she wraps one arm lightly around Clarice. "I'll tell Lydia, I just don't know when. I'm not ready to talk about it much more than I just did, and that only happened because you surprised the hell out of me."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Well," Clarice says quietly - it's a simple word, but there's something uncertain in it. "Honestly, I think he wants to know. And perhaps he deserves to. When we talked at lunch - he brought up his mother, and was wondering about her. So maybe it'd be good for both of you. Yeah?" she says encouragingly.
    "I mean - I know it's not the same thing. But what if I'd let my guilt over- over not finding my parents, over not rescuing them from Genosha, get between building a relationship with Cynthia."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique looks down at Clarice, one brow lifted. "Clarice, you linger in that moment for too long and you'll end up like me. Harboring pain for over fifty years. You don't want to do that, trust me. Until this moment in my life, there's been no one to talk to about things, so I got used to just keeping it locked up. You have people, lots of people, all of whom are willing to help you. I know this because I'm one of those people, and... because I know now I have those same people. Don't be me."

She hugs Clarice lightly with the one arm around her. "I will tell him some day, I just have to find a way to forgive myself first, and yes, that means talking about it. So it will be you and Lydia, but right now, no one else."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I don't know how to let go of it," Clarice admits quietly. "I... I can't even imagine a reality where I don't regret the fact that I never sought them out. I just try not to dwell on it." Of course, in moments like this where it's at the forefront of her thoughts, it sits on her chest like a heavy, smothering weight.
    "So I guess we have that in common. But I'm here for you, and I know you're here for me, as well." As she talks, she lets her eyes fall closed, still holding the remains of her cognac in her free hand.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Turning more toward Clarice now, Mystique says, "Then let's you and I do a little role playing, alright? Why don't you tell me everything you would have done differently if you could go back."

She gestures toward the coach now, willing to sit down now that she's not freaking out. She's still raw, no mask at all in place, but she's gotten it all back into place inside.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "If I could go back?" Clarice asks needlessly, as she retakes her seat on the couch. This part, at least, was easy. "I would have learned the truth. I- they would have known I was alive. I could've met Cynthia sooner. I would've- when the Sentinels attacked, I could have gotten them out. My parents would still be alive, Cynthia never would have gone to an orphanage, we could- we could all be together. Today." Tears streak silently down her cheeks as she speaks. She's confident that's how things would have turned out - if she'd just had the courage to confront her parents. "I didn't kill them, but- I could've saved them. I could've."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Settling back on the coach, Mystique shakes her head, "No. What would you have done? How would you have found your parents in Genosha? Step by step Clarice, what would have you have done. Go back to that moment, when you were freed, what you were feeling and thinking, what you were going through, dealing with, recovering from. Then tell me, at that time, what would you have done."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I- what?" The question seems to confuse Clarice, as she brushes irritably at her eyes. "I don't know. I- could've confronted them. I thought about it. Asking them why they gave me up, why they abandoned me. Showing them that- that I'd made something of myself after all. That I was part of the Royal Guard. I thought about it so many times... But I was a coward."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique's head tilts slightly, "Were you a coward, or busy discovering yourself, making a life for yourself? When you thought of them, were you not angry over it all? Did you not think, 'See, even though you didn't want me, I made something of myself! Ha!' when you thought about confronting them?"

Reaching over she lays her hand on Clarice's shoulder, "You could not have saved them, because you were saving yourself. You were finding your place, and you were living in a place where you were certain they'd given you away. Why would you confront them, they didn't want you? Sure, you thought about it, that's natural, but after the fact... only after you found Cynthia did /any/ of this regret come up. We always look back on the 'what ifs' after the fact. You aren't giving yourself enough credit for what was happening in the moment, you are only looking back at it from the here and how."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "But it still hurts," Clarice answers quietly. "It hurts, and I don't know how to- to let go of that. I- I want to talk to them. I want to see them. I could've saved them, I just- I try not to think about it." Because thinking about it hurts so much. She rubs at her eyes again in frustration. "I'm okay, though, most of the time. I mean... I've more to be happy about now than I can really remember."
    So she tries not to think about her grief, and guilt.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Sliding her arm around Clarice's shoulder, Mystique leans against her lightly.

"You're going through something similar to myself Clarice," she states. "You don't know how to forgive yourself for something you had no control over. If there is anyone else out there in this world who gets that, it's me. It's not easy, and people telling you you had no choice, you couldn't have saved them, or any other such statement doesn't make it any easier. All we can do, and I do mean we... is try to go day to day and hope the pain becomes less."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "At least-" Clarice starts, before snapping her mouth shut abruptly. No, Clarice. Don't let your pain control you.
    "...yeah," she says quietly instead. "I mean... I know it will. I just- I really wish I could talk to them, even just once. I would give anything." Almost anything. "I just hurts."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique nudges her, "Say it. What ever you stopped yourself from saying, say it. You're in a safe place, with a person who cares about you, you can say it, get it out, no matter how harsh it may seem."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice doesn't answer immediately, staring down at the floor and trying to piece together a coherent response - if she even dared to give one. Finally, quietly and uncertainly she murmurs, "You get to talk to Kurt. He survived." And she doesn't get the same closure - not with her parents anyways.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
There is a nod and Mystique sets her drink down to wrap Clarice in a light embrace with her arm.

"These are the things you should say, because you're right. It's not fair, and it's alright to feel that."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I'm glad he's alive, you know," Clarice murmurs as she leans into Mystique's arms. "I mean- 'cuz he's a good man. Because I like him. Because I think you deserve that... I mean- maybe... he's a teleporter. Maybe somehow that saved him?" A newborn? Teleporting? It's unusual, but not impossible. "I just wish I had a way to talk to them. And I wish- I can't even talk to Cynthia about any of this. I- tried to. She yelled at me. I guess- I mean, she's in too much pain, too."
    And she's the older sister, and she needs to be stronger. Right?

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique may not be able to mother Rogue any more, and she can't face Kurt yet, but that doesn't mean she can't be there for Clarice. Unable to stop herself, she kisses Clarice on the top of the head.

"Cynthia's had a hard few years, and she's young still, she hasn't had a chance to process the pain yet, just like you haven't. Give it time, I'm sure once she understands that you're in as much pain as she is, she'll be able to listen. Would you like me to talk to her?"

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice shakes her head slightly. "No. I- I'll try talking to her again," she murmurs. "In a little while. We'll figure it out - somehow. I mean- we're stuck with each other. ...right?" So they have no choice but to find their way. She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she adds, "We'll all find our way. Maybe one of these days we'll have a big, weird, family picnic. Me and you and Cynthia, and Rahne, and Lydia, and Mister Creed, and Kurt, and Rogue, and Pete... all of us in the garden. Yeah?"
    Because nothing says 'family picnic' like Mister Creed. They'll just have to bring a //lot// of beer.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique nods, sitting herself back up to give Clarice back her space. She picks up her glass to finish the last little big of cognac.

"Just remember, you don't have to do it alone, and neither does she. We may be one highly dysfunctional family, *cough* Creed *cough*," she grins. "but we are family. I don't think Rogue will come back to the asteroid, so perhaps Central Park instead, that would be one hell of a picnic, don't you think?"

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "It would be fun," Clarice answers, her gaze going to her cognac. "I mean... really. I would enjoy it. So... One of these days. Yeah?" She blinks then adds. "Dyani! I forgot Dyani. God, weird family." She knocks back the rest of her cognac then before adding, "And I know we're not alone, which I appreciate. I don't know how I'd do anything of this... if I were alone. You're not alone, either. And... and I'm glad you told me. About Kurt."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Standing up, Mystique sets the glass by the bottle on the floor.

"I'm not," she admits bluntly. "But I will be. I know I need to talk about it, I know it I needed to get it out, but I am glad it was you. Remind me to tell you some time about my other son."

Even as she says the last part she is walking toward the door, "You can't forget Dyani," she adds.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Definitely can't," Clarice agrees - even as she's raising her eyebrows at the thought of Mystique having another son.
    "Oh. Mystique?" she calls. "I was gonna say - I met a woman today. Felinoid, magic user who can, apparently, regrow limbs and organs. Could be a valuable asset if we handle things correctly," she remarks.
    Because that was what she's //intended// to tell the woman about all along. As she talks, she reclaims her bottle of cognac - giving herself a second glass of the liquid.
    She needs another drink.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique stops and looks back to Clarice, grateful she didn't ask about the other son... yet.

"Regrow limbs?" She asks, one brow lifting. "That... that is fascinating. You're certain of this?"

She starts walking back toward the couch, this has her attention fully now.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "She seemed certain of it. I didn't see a demonstration of her power, or anying of that nature. I'm pretty sure though that one of the kids at the orphanage was using a prosthetic leg, so... After I bring her to Genosha to heal the child, I'll know for certain, won't I?" Clarice replies, more calm and collected on this much, much safer topic of conversation.
    "She's a friend of Hank's, and seems to be a good natured, well-intentioned person. One of those 'I live to serve humanity' sorts. So... Shouldn't be any real need to twist her arm to get her to help. Not if we can present her with a compelling case why the individual in question needs her help." And an orphaned child is just a no-brainer of a test.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique nods a few times, pausing again. She didn't like the idea of a child being a guinea pig, but if the woman said she could do it, and she was a friend of Hanks.

"Alright, let's see if she can do it. I don't doubt healing, there are a lot of healers out there, but if we can add her to our allies, people willing to heal, that would be great."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I'll take care of it," Clarice promises. "She gave me her contact information. I just need to check in with Kelly to see if I was right about the boy - and if she knows of anyone else in need." She takes a sip from her cognac before asking, "There wasn't anything else you needed to talk to me about when you came in?" she asks. After all - with the heavy discussion they'd had - she wouldn't blame her for letting something slip her mind.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
For a moment the cobalt mutant stares blankly at Clarice.

"You know, I don't remember why I came in to talk to you now," she admits. "My brain was derailed. If I remember, I'll send you a text."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Because you miss my company, and I've been too busy of late?" Clarice suggests with a grin. At least she seemed to be recovering from her grief. "Anyways. I'm going to finish this," she hefts her cognac, "and get to bed. Goodnight, Raven. I'm glad you came by."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique nods, "Sleep well Clarice, I'm sure I'll bare my soul to you again at some point."