elseworldexiles | (no subject)

Current Location: Our house, in the middle of our street

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(no subject)

They say you can never come home again.

A blue figure stands outside the door, shape uncertain under a baggy trenchcoat. Is he Ramon Darkholme, European Assassin, or is she Raven Howlett, mother and wife?

A hand reaches for the knocker, pauses, and falls away. A deep breath later, eyes closed, the hand closes over the knob instead.

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It's a night of firsts and of actions that haven't seen the light of day for years, it seems like. Logan won't soon forget it. He'd been prepared, earlier this evening, to throw his life away and forever change his daughter's, for the sake of revenge. Now everything's been put into a different perspective -- one he never dared to entertain. A future with his wife, and his daughter.

"Ya ditched Luiza," he mutters into her hair, his arm around her shoulders.

"I did. It was boring and I didn't know if ..." Marion looks over his shoulder at her mother. "I didn't... You're alive."

Both of them.

"She'll go out of her damn mind wonderin' where ya are," he gripes as he follows her look over his shoulder. "Yeah. We are. This city's goin' ta be crazy fer a while, though."

"It's better for Luiza if she doesn't know where Marion is."

She looks at the girl, frowning slightly. "You shouldn't have come back here," Raven says softly. "It may not be safe. There are..." She pauses, unsure how much Logan wants to tell the girl. Instead of spelling it out, she nods to his shreaded, bloodstained clothing, hoping Marion will understand. "We can't stay here."

Marion reaches out for her mother, her hands gloved even still.

"I couldn't... I had to know."

Raven runs a careful finger over the girl's hair. She's still wearing the trenchcoat, so she steps forward and wraps her arms around the girl.

Maybe this can work.

Maybe.

Marion hugs them both tightly.

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