taxonomites | [visual | Taxon Forest] Open

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[visual | Taxon Forest] Open

The first picture shows rocks.

The rocks are shifting, but it becomes apparent that it's the tablet shifting, where it's attached to the bracelet on Scott's wrist.

In the next, the rocks drop away to show a wide vista and a sudden drop before Scott's face comes into view. He's still got a bruised up face, but now he's in a visor and flushed red with exertion. In the next, he looks down, the sheer drop under him becoming visible.

A few more shots give a clear view of what's going on. Scott's gone climbing.

He's climbing cliffs in Taxon Forest.

Free soloing. Hands and feet and concentration all that's stopping him from a long drop and a short stop.

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"You're a- You mentioned this. Army medic?" Scott tends to remember that sort of thing, even if names don't always come with positions.

"If it would make you happier about it." Because Mick clearly isn't. "I don't heal like you or Logan, but I'm fairly tough. I've had worse."

"Army medic, World War II." He nods affirmative, and steps in to take a closer look now that he has permission.

Ocular assessments first: "There's obvious swelling and bruising, but," he touches the other side of Summers' jaw, moving from side to side to gauge the line up of the body of the mandible itself.

"Doesn't seem like the angle's off. How's your teeth when you bite down? All aligned and good?"

Logan...

"He the guy who clocked you?"

"It's not dislocated. My bite's fine, my teeth are firm in the jaw, there was some internal lacerations, but it's closed up fine." Scott's skin is warm. Very warm. He gives off heat.

"Yeah. Logan, real name unknown. The Wolverine. He remembers fighting in both World Wars and possibly earlier. And his skeleton is metal lined, hence the bruising."

"Hey, don't get smart with me, I'm trying to help. Standard questions, Summers."

Mick's fingers probably feel like ice, which might not be a bad thing, considering the swelling.

Metal skeleton. Well. It's Taxon. You can't expect there to be a limit to the weirdness that comes here. That didn't mean I had any right to judge, or a clue what to think about it all. 'Mutant' just got a whole new meaning.

"Open up."

"I'm not being smart. I'm listing the things Hank always asks." It was just ingrained responses. Scott isn't feeling anything enough to get smart.

He closes his eyes and opens his mouth. There's no wince, no flinch, however much it hurts.

Mick takes a look, his eyes finding the partially healed cuts like a set of honing beacons. Then he does something a 21st century doctor might opt out of: he sniffs. It smells clean, perfectly normal for a guy who got smacked around.

"No sign of infection, and you're right. Your teeth line up. Close.

"You go way back, huh? You and Logan?"

SCott's relieved to go back to talking with minimal jaw movements. "I met him when I was... eighteen or nineteen?" He thinks. "He hated my guts. I hated his. We loved the same girl and she chose me, then she died. It's taken a lot, but we respected each other. We'd become friends after a while, despite Jean and Maddie and that mess."

He shrugs slightly. "Apparently, in his world, I go insane and try to take over the world using the power that killed Jean. Twice.

"Jean isn't dead in my world. We're still married. I don't know what happened between us to him. It doesn't matter. He's not the person I knew." Even if Logan seems set on treating him as the person he hated.

Mick listens, heading towards the next steep climb Summers had in mind. Might as well move forward while they talk.

Or, while Summers talks and he asks much too prying questions.

"Sounds like you got a lot on your mind, with him arriving here. Still, gotta sting to have a friend talk to you like that."

"He's not the man I know. I can't assume he ever was. Divergent realities suck like that." He gives a small shrug. "Not the first time it's happened. And he's spoken worse to me in the past. Nothing's broken, that's the big thing."

"Tough love," Mick notes, and decides that for the time being, he's got no more questions. There's a limit to how many times you can poke a guy before you cross a line you shouldn't have, and he's not willing to risk that.

"You should ice that to keep the swelling down. Take something for the pain half an hour before bedtime, help you sleep. And try not to talk too much, alright?"

"No, outright hatred. It was only the fact that Jean never would've forgiven him that held him back."

He gives Mick a mildly bemused look. "I know. I'm not the one been encouraging me to talk right now. I'm fine, honestly. Go home, before you start another round of serenading."

Summers gets a bemused look right back, because he had to go there, didn't he. Serenading. Yeah, right.

"Thanks for reminding me." He gestures at the cliff face and Summers to go do his thing, break a limb or his neck or whatever he's trying to do.

"If you die, I'll see you in a week I guess. Unless the hamsters decide you've been plenty reckless enough and just let you stay dead. Never know with those critters."

"I'm not going to fall. I've been doing this sort of thing since I was six and trying to leave my brother behind." He has total confidence that he won't fall. Just because that's not how his life works.

He starts up the cliff, fingers digging into cracks to pulls himself up.

"Well, if you end up a wet smear somewhere, I'll be the first one to say told you so."

Just to be clear, it isn't a warning, as much as it's a friendly reminder of the old adage of arrogance going before a fall.

In some cases, more literally than others.

He turns his back, heading down ~~Man's road~~ the downhill path, throwing one last thing over his shoulder. "Or maybe I'll just get you a copy of Cliffhanger."

Edited 2012-08-20 08:31 (UTC)

"Understood."

He keeps working his way up, slowly.

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[visual | Taxon Forest] Open

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