agoodyarn | For bloodbymetal: First Impressions

His first thought, upon returning to Earth, is to check on the President but it seems that that situation is in hand; those who would be dead are dead and those who are alive don't require medical assistance other than a young man who was already being pulled out of the metal mangle that had fallen on him. But his focus must be, can't be anything but, the man floating away through the air.

It's rare he shares the sky. And having heard of this man, having heard of what he can do and seeing the results of it around the destruction, he decides that the best thing he can do is go after him.

But he's heard enough that he doesn't immediately go for the conflict, the attack. Instead, he follows at a distance too far for any normal human to be able to sense, keeping track of the other man with his own enhanced senses. When he sees him start to descend, when he heads for an actual location, that's when Clark sweeps in, silent and slow, not from behind but from the front. Head on.

"I think we need to talk."

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Dozing off was much easier after he acknowledged his thanks, and bothered to even give into needed sleep. Maybe he'll be able to have a clearer mind with healing wounds.

Erik is a dangerous man, and it wasn't something to be dismissed. He had obtained secrets, of mutants hiding their identity, many of which were in high positions. Humans passing wasn't hard to do unless a mutation was visible or they were a shifter. He wasn't sure what Superman's intentions were, but there were blanks many people want filled that include what Magneto has done in the past. One of the most prominent ones is of the assassination of President Kennedy. Erik could possibly be compelled to tell Superman the truth of what had actually occurred, but it would take a lot to get him to be able to do it.

Waking up was another story. The sun too bright and Erik, although a morning person, had the desire to stay laying where he was. Two reasons held him back. One, he had a good few hours of sleep, and two, he was curious to what was next.

Groggily, he rubbed one eye, noting his same attire.

"I need a shower." It was of course not the first on his mind. He wasn't sure what his next step was going to be. Talking to Superman for one. He'll definitely lay low for a while and put Magneto away. Possibly go to Germany, Poland. Stay in the states... Somewhere he wouldn't be expected. He will have to use his birth namesake. Max Eisenhardt.

Clark hadn't really dozed so much as meditated while he was letting Erik sleep, as much ruminating on the possible issues around this particular situation was he was on the excuse he was going to give Perry as to why he had been out for a few days. Because it was going to take a few days, he had a feeling. He hated it, but he had a feeling that he'd be calling Bruce. Normally, he would never lean on that particular relationship that way, but this was of a caliber that it was required. And he didn't quite feel as if he could leave this one to anyone else.

"You've got a couple of options," he offered, keeping his voice low. "And I know which one your doctor would prefer. There's showers here... or where I wanted to take you to talk. It's up to you, though."

Running rough fingers through his hair, he could feel the unruliness. He had woken up with a case of bed hair. At least it was better than helmet hair. Which reminded him. His helmet. It had laid in the rubble. Charles didn’t allow him to take it. A part of him wanted to find a time to lure it back to him. It had become part of him for so long, although they had been separated for some time. There was something about the metal, imposing and powerful, that he liked to feel. Except, in catching sight of Superman still there, he realized it may not be the best to act on the impulse. His choices had been given, and he had taken freedom. There was no going back, yet.

“It’s rhetorical.” Erik bore his sight on Superman, expression closed off to giving away nothing. He often could unravel, but then close up right away. There was no middle ground when it came to Erik. The new choices he was given were not hard to pinpoint in what he wanted. Showers could wait. There were far more important matters. His curiosity dabbled too much.

“We can talk now.” A man of few words, Erik gave a curt nod.

Clark sat up a little bit and made sure to unfold his arms. There was no sense in starting with a closed off state of mind or a closed off posture.

"I suppose, when it boils down to it, I've really only got one question." He leaned a little closer, not looming or intimidating. If anything, his eyes seemed imploring, hopeful.

"Why?"

Why had he done what he'd done? What was going on with these 'mutants', these metahumans? What was he doing and why was he doing it and how could they accomplish things without terrifying or harming people?

One simple word, and yet it was more complex than anyone could singularly comprehend. Erik's aloof expression didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something profound. A blink and it will be missed moment.

"That's asking more from me than I can give you," and yet he wanted to tell the morally induced hero what he had been burying for a long time. He wasn't shy about his views, but it was only the surface of an iceberg. Underneath it all, there was more than what was being shown.

"Mutants are superior. You've heard it all from me."

In the silence that followed, Erik reflected and for once he tried to evaluate. Slowly, but surely, at the state he was in, if someone really wanted to get him to profess, they could if they poked hard enough.

"What more do you want me to say? That I regretted it? I was there on my own will. To everyone I am a bad man. They don't want people like me. I was making a stance. It was made clearly."

"And where do I stand in your ideology?" And there was genuine curiosity there, but there was also a desire to keep him talking, see what shook out of him as he did. As he'd said right from the start, there were answers that Erik would not give him but that didn't mean they weren't there. They were just covered or, reasonably, hidden from him, an outsider.

"I don't want you to say anything, though. And I haven't called you anything, bad or good. Your stance might be clear, but your feelings are what I'm interested in."

Because sometimes, people just needed the light to find their way. And when Clark had taken up his mantle, had stepped out in the very outfit he wore now, he'd sworn to himself to be that light... and not just when it was easy. Not just for those already predisposed towards it. It seemed to him that more than anything else, this man needed hope.

He would try.

Emitting a laugh, it only felt dry and void of any actual happiness; it was perfectly bitter. Magneto is a bad person. Misguided by revenge, but still not someone who will spare a life he didn’t deem necessary. He had no mercy or regard for peace. Yet, delving deeper into the complexity that formed Magneto, Erik gave off different volumes. Magneto will always be part of Erik, but the amount of Erik part of Magneto only drew in more complications.

He still talked, too tired of keeping it all bottled in as he usually did. Slowly, the tight hold he held onto the thread of burdens were unleashed. It was the similarities between Superman and Charles that pushed him. That sincere, pacifist naivety.

Charles will always be a broken point, and regretful yearning he will hold within.

“I am a bad person. I’ve done atrocious acts. I’ve killed with my bare hands,” Erik made sure he was keeping a strong stare on Superman, never wavering it. He was a broken man, but he won’t back into a weak corner. Not now, not ever. Yet, the fragility would seep in if he wasn’t careful.

“I don’t know what you are, or where to place you. All I know is what pertains to mutants and humans. A coexistence I believe is not possible. I am just…” Spent. Erik was walking a dangerous path, full of potential to grow into an even darker soul. His experiences shape him, and whether Superman would dent his straying destiny, it wasn’t clear quite yet. Unable to finish, he instead asked.

“Do you want to know what actually happened November 22nd of 1963?”

And Superman stared back, not with strength, not with hardness in his eyes, but with a well of compassion. Caring. Willingness to listen. Unwillingness to hate. Erik's words only made him believe his own theories more. Really bad people, he'd learned over the years, didn't think they were bad people. Didn't feel the blood on their hands. Didn't regret. And they definitely didn't try to warn off those who might try to help them.

As for November 22nd, 1963...

"I know it's not what the official report reads as," Clark said slowly.

For bloodbymetal: First Impressions

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...sorry was out of state for a few days!

Totally fine! Always reply when you can, or feel da muse ~

much appreciated; it's been mildly crazy getting back to work

i'm hella lenient so no worries; if you want to continue all yee have to do is answer

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