Fate decides who comes into your life; your heart decides who stays.
"𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐼𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑟𝑑."
[X-Men: First Class - X-Men Apo...
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She should be getting sleep. Ria should be slipping into unconsciousness, living within her own dreams instead of her reality; instead, she wanders around the Xavier mansion with a glass of whatever expensive booze she found lying around. For a man who only lives with one other person, there sure is a lot of alcohol just waiting to be consumed with fancy glasses to accompany it.
It burns her throat in a scalding, unfriendly way. Ria prefers a subtle wine to a slap-in-the-face bourbon now, though it can be useful, once in a while. Growing up, there hadn't been whiskey or tequila in her village, but she could always count on fresh wine just after the harvest.
Each year, everyone in her village would come together for two full months, only to take stock of the harvest. It was bountiful and prosperous, no matter the conditions. Ria would get bruises and callouses, but she would laugh all day and sleep all night only to repeat the process the next day. Boys and girls would flirt where others could not see—Ria had had her own fun hidden by the tall stalks—and come back with colored cheeks.
It was always when she missed home the most. Even when her family was still alive and she was off galavanting due to her own adventurous heart, she'd find herself thinking of home every year. It broke her when she saw what became of her village so many decades after her own family had passed. They would have died just in time for harvest season, not that their murderer would have taken it into consideration.
Ria downs the rest of her drink, happily letting her throat and chest burn. Just thinking of everything she had done, everything she had caused... Well, she'd prefer the numbness of combat to the pain of that guilt any day.
It is the echo of that guilt that keeps her from running away this time. She has enough regrets without adding this; if the world finds her—remembers her—tomorrow, then so be it. She will do whatever it takes to keep the mutants she cares about safe, even if it means abandoning them in the end.
When she finds herself wandering into the library, she frowns at the lit fireplace and seemingly intense chess match happening before her.
"After tomorrow, they're gonna turn on us," Erik says as Charles moves a piece on the board. Ria silently tilts her head up as she leans against the doorway. "But you're blind to it because you believe they're all like Moira."
"You believe they're all like Shaw," Charles replies, leaning forward. "Listen to me very carefully, my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace."
Oh, but it very much will.
"Peace was never an option."
"Truth is, humanity is in-between," Ria says. Both men turn to her with wide eyes. With a shrug, she pushes off the polished wood and pours herself another glass of booze, raising the glass to stare at the fire through the intricate designs. "To say they are anything else is a lie. I remember a time when humans loved mutants, worshipped them. I also remember a time when humanity decided powered individuals were something to be feared and not loved."
