Logs:For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.
Dramatis Personae Erik, Heather, Ion, Leo
In Absentia	2022-04-16 "I am anticipating some interesting days to come."
Location <BOM> Common Room - Bom Lodge
The common room's rustic-lodge feel has been somewhat mitigated by the modern amenities inside its sturdy wooden walls. It has comfortable couches, several chairs, a refrigerator (stocked with snacks and drinks!), a pool table, a pinball machine (METALLICA!), an assortment of books, a television -- with several game systems! -- and a splendid view out the windows (when their lacy yellow curtains are drawn open) for the rest of the island. The pale wood floors have been covered in places -- by a pair of soft thick blue rugs, by a large squishy pair of beanbags that stand in front of the stone fireplace. There's also a board up on the wall, half corkboard, half whiteboard, with a variety of community notes (and occasional insults) to other Brotherhood members. Large doors on the right-hand side lead off to the kitchen and dining room. In the back of the room, the council room's heavy oak door bears solid locks that are almost never actually barred. A short hall adjacent to the council room's door leads to a trio of multi-stalled bathrooms; these might once have been marked with the typical man-woman-handicapped signs, but someone has given them new plaques on the door; a stick figure with horns and a long tail, one with wings. One -- the large single-user toilet -- has instead been given a helmet and a cape. Ryan Black's "Keep Your Family Closer" is playing exuberantly in the main lodge, the sound spilling out through fluttering curtains to the clearing beyond. Inside, the common space is vibrant, red and purple streamers criss-crossing the ceiling, large balloons (here a horseshoe-shaped magnet, there a... purple horned devil looking face?) bobbing merrily in the cross breeze from the open windows. A side table by the kitchen is groaning with food, herby beet soup and cumin roasted lamb, lemony root vegetables, a creamy risotto. Little cheese and meats and olives plate laid out with (fancy! colored!) toothpicks. A large fruit salad. Ion, dressed almost as usual in jeans and white tee (under a black apron reading "CUSTOM TEXT HERE" in white embroidery on its front) though with a purple plastic Magneto Helmet on his head, is just emerging from the kitchen to add to this bounty a very large cake, frosted in buttercream and decorated on its surface with a stick figure in horned helmet and cape flying down toward a number of other stick figures, likely fleeing from their exaggerated 😱 expressions. "Oh shit," he's looking critically at the cake, "You think this enough, I should have add some meteor raining down." Leo (very springlike in daisy yellow short-sleeve button-down with a subtle windowpane pattern and cigarette-cut black jeans) has been scarce around the island -- and indeed all of New York -- for a while now, and perhaps this isn't exactly what he expected to find upon returning. He's been examining a purple-demon-shaped balloon with a mild puzzlement, and is still holding it carefully in long fingers when Ion emerges. His eyes widen at the sight of the cake. He turns the balloon over -- and over -- simply staring down at the decorations. "I think," he finally declares, quiet and firm, "it is enough." Heather's arms are crossed as she evaluates the cake, very temporarily obscuring the aggressively 90s radical sunglassed watermelon surfing on the front of her bright orange t-shirt. While her goggles obscure her eyes, her critical gaze sweeps over the art presented. "This is sufficient. We are cutting close for any additions." Here, while her recorded voice plays, she taps her head where a red and yellow party hat rests, clipped into her wild hair to prevent it from dropping away. She points to the fleeing figures and adds, "Regardless. You piped some good terror." “This is certainly something,” booms the voice of Magneto. At the entrance to the common room, the founder of the Brotherhood of Mutants looks — frankly, completely flummoxed by the display in front of him, white eyebrows arched high as he surveys the room. He’s dressed almost casually for him, in only an old two-piece indigo suit, white dress shirt, no tie, and old leather boots. He certainly does not match the depiction of him on the cake — there’s no cape over his back, and no helmet over his shock of white hair. Erik looks to the cake, to the balloon in Leo’s hands, to party hat perched on Heather’s head. The corner of his lips twitch upwards into an amused smile. “Am I early, my Brothers? I am happy to go out and be surprised again, if I have spoiled it.” "Ohdamn!" Ion abandons the cake on the table, bounding away towards a window when Magneto makes his appearance. A small tug on one of the streamers shifts a thin flap of paper hung up by the ceiling, starting a shower of colorful confetti fluttering down through the room. "No such thing as early, all times are party times." He goes to scoop up another party hat off the coffee table -- bright and gaudy and trimmed in rainbow tinsel -- in order to go deposit it lightly atop Erik's head. "Figured it was overdue for a proper welcome home, huh?" Leo's eyes have gone slightly wider when Erik shows up in the doorway. He looks -- a little apprehensively -- to Ion, holding his balloon close to his chest as the other man bounds off. He doesn't entirely relax when Ion bestows a party hat on Erik, but he does release his grip on the balloon, batting it very lightly with his fingertips in Erik and Ion's direction. "I don't think the surprises ever end with Ion." Though he's mostly staring at Erik -- dropping his eyes after a few moments with a faint flush. "Welcome back." Heather squeaks something at this shower of colorful confetti, her gaze turning upwards, and she lifts her arms in a silent cheer. "I am hungry. So I would judge that you are right on time. Though if you would like to experience the surprise again, you are welcome to exit and enter again. Just do not be long about it." At this last, a slight twitch of a smile appears on her otherwise neutral expression, "Happy homecoming." There’s a flash of something in Erik’s eyes, a brief moment that the smile falls amid the confetti and replaced with something harsh and unforgiving as Ion goes to crown him. It's gone in an instant, as Erik claps a hand to Ion's shoulder. “Your patience has not gone unnoticed, Mr. Ion, nor unappreciated.” The grandfatherly crinkle returns to Erik’s eyes along with his smile. “Bah, I was wonderfully surprised already. Eat, if you are hungry — I hardly know where to start.” He considers the hat on Heather’s head for a moment longer before turning his attention to Leo’s downturned eyes and faint flush. “You can look, young man — from what I hear, from the news and from Heather, I rather think it is I who should be honoured to behold you in person, not the other way around.” "Mr. Ion! You hear that! Proper!" Ion claps his hand back to Erik's shoulder (with a very faint static jolt accompanying his touch). There's a bright glee in his exclamation that doesn't fade as he heads over to the mini fridge. "Shit bro your reputation even make it to super ultra freak prison! Rockstar, right there. Chin up, ain't none of us complaining about getting to behold you every day." He's yoinked a bottle of watermelon gose from the fridge. He tips its neck towards Leo in indication but then waggling it to the rest of the room at large, ending with Erik. "Drink? There's hell of beer and soda. Even got some fancy ass water if that's how you roll. Bet they don't have none the fancy water in jail, huh?" By fancy he evidently means a bottle of San Pellegrino seltzer which he's produced with a proud flourish. "I don't know how much shit's changed round here since you been in but there like a million fancy waters now." Leo lifts his eyes, a small crease in his brows at the harsher flash in Erik's expression. He glances to the confetti, but the slight wince that crosses his face is soon displaced by the force of Ion's enthusiasm. "Oh, I --" Whether from Erik's comments or Ion's, his blush has deepened. "Have honestly just. Been glad to have a place here." He does accept the watermelon beer, fruitlessly attempting to twist the cap off before caving and using a bottle opener instead. "Have things changed a lot? Here, I mean. When I got..." He trails off, shakes his head, starts over from a different angle: "I just know it can be. A big adjustment." If Heather even registers Erik's smile falling, it does not appear on her face, and when she is given permission to eat, she immediately zips over to start a plate, the generous portions she is self-serving befitting of a metabolism brought on by her powers. She simply nods in firm agreement to the fact that nobody is complaining to see Leo. "You are a true gentleperson, Mr. Ion. We will need to begin shopping for bow ties." She pauses in her scooping to remark. "There are a lot of new energy drink flavours too that you likely have not had yet. I am not sure if you would like that. I do. They taste like chemicals." The jolt leaves Erik standing just a touch straighter as he meanders in Heather’s wake, pausing to look at the decorated cake with interest. “Everyone,” Erik muses, “is very concerned about my ability to adjust. I understood that it was known who I am and what I’ve lived through, even among our new members.” His eyes flick down, briefly, to the sleeve of his left arm, then back up to the buttercream terrorism tableau. “I have coped with worse adjustments, though I will be glad when this human poison is finally flushed from my system.” He considers Leo’s question for a moment longer. “The changes primarily are in the scale of things. Far more Brothers and Sisters with us, yet far more challenges ahead of us. Far more,” and he turns to Ion at the fridge, “flavours of fancy water and ‘energy drinks’. The sweetest sip is any taken as a free mutant, but I am curious as to what ‘chemicals’ taste like.” "Think we concerned cuz we do know," Ion points out with a small hitch of shoulder, "we been through torture camp, don't think it gets no better on the rerun." He's putting the fizzy water back in the fridge. Exchanging it for a pair of Monster energy drinks, which he offers to Erik and Heather. "Shit see me in a bow tie? I let you guide me," he's looking over Heather and her watermelon-surfer ensemble, "I be looking real fucking sharp in no time." He grabs another beer for himself, leaning back against the couch after cracking it open. "You feeling any tingles yet? May be a bit. Usually couple weeks for me then the island gotta watch out because --" He snaps his fingers, a bright dance of energy jolting between them. "Last time I was rejuicing blacked out the whole place. It's a fucking rollercoaster." "I know," Leo confirms softly. His hand turns out to Ion, acknowledging his explanation. His mouth twitches thinner at the mention of the suppression drugs. "I'm sure fluctuating magnetism will -- also make for an interesting couple weeks." He goes to the table to get himself a bowl of soup, taking it and his beer over to join Ion at the couch, though he actually sits on it. "What will you do once you -- can do you again?" "When you taste it, you will understand what chemicals taste like," says Heather. She shuffles carefully with her plate of food, to keep her speed down and avoid spilling anything, her brows knit with concentration as she does so. She nods a couple of times quietly when Ion says that they are concerned because they do know. Her attention moves towards Leo, her recorded voice speaking while she shovels some of the food into her mouth. "I am anticipating some interesting days to come." Erik’s expression hardens. “No,” he says quietly, “it does not. It pains me that you know that firsthand.“ His thumb rubs over his left sleeve briefly. “Perhaps,” he says mildly, “we should consider moving everyone’s personal computers off the island for a week or so, when I do get some of these… tingles. After that…” His gaze casts around the room. “Well. One day at a time. I would like to walk among our people again before returning to the fight. See this community you have begun uptown.” There’s a touch of wistfulness here, tucked in around the carefully casual tone Erik has taken. "Enjoy one last dull day before plunging back into interesting times." Erik cracks open the can and sips delicately at the lip. His expression twists into violent disgust for a moment, cheeks pushing out like he’s about to spray it back, before he swallows and holds out the can to inspect it further. “… It does, in fact, taste like chemicals.” He looks at Heather with a baffled expression. “How can you possibly enjoy this?” "Shit you come by Freaktown people gonna go buckwild. Be like Michael fucking Jackson rise from the grave to put on a show there." Ion is returning to the PARTY TABLE, a casual meander to pick up a bright pink instant camera. He lifts this to snap a picture as Erik takes his first sip of DELICIOUS CHEMICALS, an amused chortle erupting from him. "Thought you was gonna spew that shit --" He hands the slip of picture the camera dispenses to Heather. "This gonna be your masterpiece. You know Speed Demon over there she taste that shit five times as strong too. Like an energy-splosion." He is offering his own beer to Erik, perhaps to wash this taste away. "Leo here, he got to be an expert at getting around the city as a full-on wanted terrorist." Ion sounds deeply proud of this vicarious skill. "You want some pointers avoiding the new cop-bots I bet..." Though here he catches himself with a small frown. His self-conscious correction doesn't last long before bulling ahead into: "We should get him one them big fake glasses-mustache things. How you feel about pink hair?" "I think we have had interesting days for a while now." A small smile is juuuust debating creeping onto Leo's face when Erik tastes the Monster. He stifles his own laugh in another swig of beer -- which he almost chokes on when Ion mentions avoiding the police robots. He presses the back of his hand to his lips, blinking hard. "My track record there," his voice is still soft, "is not great. But I'm -- working on it." He rubs his knuckles against his eyes, setting his beer down so he can pick up his spoon. "I think purple would suit better," is his opinion. Heather squeaks delightedly when she is handed the picture. "And there are so many flavours. Red chemicals. Yellow chemicals. Green chemicals. Blue chemicals." She gives a couple of encouraging nods at that. "But my tastes are perhaps on a different wavelength," she concedes to Ion's point, "Or the rest of you lack my refined palate." She carefully sets her plate, already mostly empty from her previous attention, aside. "Purple chemicals. Purple hair. I like it. I have more goggles if you require accessories." Erik drinks maybe too much of Ion’s beer, though none of that threatens to spew. “It was a close thing. I think I will leave these for your enjoyment.” The still full can is offered to Heather the same moment Erik, slightly apologetically, offers the beer bottle back to Ion. His gaze settles on Leo, brows furrowing for a moment. “You may have had imperfect successes, but enough to still be walking free. Any wisdom on how to navigate this brave new world would be welcome, Brother. Though — “ and his tone lightens again, “purple hair on someone my age might be a touch conspicuous.” Still, Erik is smiling, amused at the brainstorming. “But a disguise, generally, yes. Glasses are a staple of the genre. Do they still make hair dye in the boring, sapiens colors? Browns, reds?” "Oh hell yeah! Nice rich red you gonna look fire. I get you hair dye, some dope-ass sunglasses, one them metal studded facemask. Heather should do wardrobe." Ion hops back up onto the back of the couch, taking a gulp of his beer and jostling Leo's shoulder lightly. "Be like a vizier to the king of mutants, bet you ain't think your life would get you here, huh?" Leo takes a sip of his soup, dark eyes sweeping slow over the others in the room. Eventually a faint twitch of smile tugs at his lips -- though there's a trace of melancholy in the expression. "No," comes on a quiet breath of laughter, "this is certainly not what I had imagined. But if it helps the next generation have the lives they imagine..." This just trails off into a small shrug. "For the next generation." Heather is careful when she snatches the can from Erik's hands, but less so when she raises the can in toast and upends it to drink deeply of the Monster's bounty. "Yes. I can do the wardrobe." Her free hand gestures between herself and Ion. "We will be the brotherhood of image consultants." She finishes drinking, a slight smile appearing on her lips. "You will look so unlike yourself that you will not believe you are you." “A new generation is being born,” Erik muses, almost to himself, in response to Heather's toast, “and with it must come a new world order.” Erik begins meandering vaguely in the direction of food by way of a loop around the couch, one hand dropping briefly to Leo's shoulder. “Unlike myself, hm?” Erik considers this. Pauses just behind Ion, lightly removes the plastic imitation Magneto Helmet from the electrokinetic’s head to pop it over his own. “For that, I put myself in your hands, children. Remake me in your image, and then we will remake the world in ours.”