13286/A Sinister Gravity

A Sinister Gravity
Date of Scene:	15 May 2021
Location:	Near Trapps Mountain Hamlet, NY
Synopsis:	Having run from Xavier's after the Little Pigs incident, Rosie McGowan's trail of destruction leads to More Sinister instruction for the young mutant.
Cast of Characters:	Antigravity, Sinister

---

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie had been running through the night, directionless in mixed panic. There was a trail of destruction left in her wake, trees uprooted at random. Cars that had become super-massive and tied to their own gravity, crushed like soda cans as they condensed in on themselves. Abandoned homes in the endless woods of rural New York State missing walls, and as the destruction ebbed, so too did emotions, until in an abandoned hamlet in the mountains, in the cold and early gray light of dawn, someone had broken into a largely abandoned cabin by way of a window.

    Now in the cabin the broken glass on the floor shimmered like a thousand stars in the afternoon sun. A deer head monitored the living-and-kitchen-room of the cabin, and curled up by a mostly diminished fire, the 1980's-era afgan in yellow, tan and white wrapped around her shoulders, was a young mutant who was responsible for so much damage caused in her terrified flight from what she was sure would have been the adults of the school sent to contain her -- she was dangerous.

    Rosie McGowan was a monster.

Sinister has posed:
There is no sound but the rapidity of a human heart right now, the shallowness of breath that wants to catch. With no fire to crackle, nothing but the night outside and its grandiose chorus of the barely-heard, the dark is a blanket and an uninviting, oppressive mantle at the same time. Somewhere, very far distant, the terrifying sound of a dog fox screaming, punctuates the night like a cry of anguish suddenly cut from a throat mid-voice.

But then, tickling the senses, there is a soft crunch of footfalls on pine needles and the death of leaves. Measured and quiet, but for the lack of any other sound nearby, they could be missed. And they draw closer, until a shadow is framed by the pale moon through the broken window, occluding the glitter of glass shards. Fleetingly, a red diamond glows in the dark, casting a pall on the shape of cheeks, that suggest a sanguine skull, then the shadow is gone from the window and a very soft knock sounds upon the door. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Quoth the raven nevermore.

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie didn't stir, she was exhausted, and if the X-Men had come this far to reclaim her...

    Her eyes opened, and then looked to the door as the soft knocks came rapping, oh so gently tapping, tapping on that abandoned cabin door.

    Could be the wind, and nothing more.

    An arm scratched up and bloodied from breaking the window curls a little tighter around herself, and she continues to lean against the still-warm fieldstone of the fireplace, silent. Maybe they'll go away.

Sinister has posed:
The silence is so deep it is deafening, for moments that stretch in exhaustion.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Silence again, then with a click, the lock upon the door disengages and the creak of hinges punctuates it swinging open wide. The frame is empty, pallid moonlight defining the edges with a limne of silvery grey upon black; beyond, tangled binestems score the sky like the fingers of witches.

"My, my, my, what -do- we have here?" The voice is very soft, deep, extremely english, well-bred. The Jeremy Irons of voices. "I think you might just be a long way from home, young lady."

Antigravity has posed:
    The dock is opened, and there, filling the doorway, is the dark form of Sinister.

    THe young woman looks up at Sinister, exhaustion in her eyes, fear beneath it. She trails her knuckles over the wool of the afgan she had wrapped around her shoulders for warmth.

    "Can't go back home." she comments quietly, her heart picking up the pace as she regards the ghastly appearance of the figure. "Ah am a monster."

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, really now? My dear, I think I know a good deal about monsters," Sinister steps within, the cloak following him and bending of its own accord, like he were followed by a slew of snakes. The footsteps on the floorboards are slow and measured as he draws up closer, crouching down infront of where Rosie hunkers to gaze at her, elbows on knees. The man's aspect is vulturesque as he stoops, the red glow of blood in his eyes a very dim light in the cabin. "What makes you think you are a monster, hm? Monstrosities herald great change, purpose of a divine nature or a cataclysmic one, or so they say."

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie looks at Sinister with doubt and fear in her eyes, and she shifts her weight, drawing one knee down, drawing her hand against a floorboard as Sinister comes down to her level.

    She watches him for long moments, letting his words and presence hang heavily in the dust of the broken-into cabin.

    "Are you The Devil?" questions the girl in an odd sense of finality, not answering what made her a monster.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's lips tilt at the hint of a smile, an ironic smile no less. "Me? How flattering. But no, I am afraid that the Devil has the face of an angel and a confidence in his presence that draws sins out of saints. I am a common garden variety monster, if you believe the hype. Hence, I think I am a foremost expert on what constitutes one and what constitutes having had a very bad day."

He nods toward the open door, the woods outside. "I would have had to be blind, not to be able to follow you, by the by. This is not a survival tactic that ought to be applauded. Thusly," he raises a finger at her and metronomes it side to side, tutting his tongue with it.

The cloak slithers along the ground, until it curls in around him tentacular and strangely supportive of his position, crouched there, like they hold the weight of him steady. "Would you like my help, little lady? I have been known to help the desperate. In that act at least, you might say I am /a/ devil."

Antigravity has posed:
    "... Ah killed a girl." she whispers. The blonde with the freckled, now sunburnt face and tear-stained cheeks whispers. "I killed her for throwin' a rock. Ah crushed her legs, her pelvis, everythin' below her lumbars. She was dyin' an' callin' for her momma and I dropped the rock that killed her." she whispers. "Ah am gravity an' destruction, an' the sum of my congregation's hatred."

    She watches his cloak with trepedation.

    "... Ah am the child of violence."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister clucks his tongue at that, an admonishing sound, but one that sounds laced with pity. "Such a tragedy," he muses this, lacing his fingers together where he crouches and resting his chin on the fists, staring unblinking at her face. The cloak's edges curl and uncurl, slither just a little to hold him steady there.

"It does strike me though, that it was a rock that did the deed. One thrown and one thrown back. Perhaps we ought to be executing the stone that was thrown? Or perhaps we should note that those who threw the first stones were not without thier sins, hmm? For the almighty, angry at those that defied his laws and his countenance sent rains of fire from the heavens, rocks that streamed down upon earth and destroyed the sinful."

The voice was full of balefulness there, but turns light afterwards. "Very well. I could have taken it all away. Let you face judgement as a normal girl."

Antigravity has posed:
    "Take... take the powers away?" Rosie questions, and she sits up a moment. The idea of becoming normal -- no more powers. No more worries about losing control, and she gives a nervous swallow.

    "Ah struck in rage. 'Cause that is what's in mah blood. Ah was born from an act of rage. Ah was raised by effects of wrath. An' violence will be mah end no matter what Ah am." she comments to Sinister.

    "If you're not the Devil, who are you?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister nods once at her initial reply, then there is a grunt of contempt for what follows. "Oh, for the love of... is that what they teach children these days? That they are born with wrath and fury and rage? Good grief, the state of education has gone downhill -- It is no more in your blood, born out of wrath, violence and rage than was a newly hatched duck." He snorts, though it's an elegant sound.

"I am Sinister."

Antigravity has posed:
    "... 'cause my momma an' my daddy weren't married an' wasn't exactly --" Rosie states in her defense, but realizes that this man just said 'good grief' and complained about the education system.

    ... which makes her laugh, just a moment, inelegant and clumsy.

    "Ah'm a no one anymore."

Sinister has posed:
The sound of laughter draws the blood red eyes once again, the glow a little greater, or perhaps just more obvious from having become accustomed to it. It's possible to see more details thanks to its faint light. "If you say so," he states quietly, then rises in a billow of black. There's a sudden straightening of all the tails of cloak, so that they sit firm behind him and he reaches a hand to Rosie.

"Allowing for the gravity of this situation, I strongly advise you to not be alone in the woods, with all sorts of bad influence out there. If I can follow you with ease, so can others and they might just extinguish that which deserves to be flourishing. Come, girl."

Antigravity has posed:
    "Well... yeah. They're gonna come after me, an' they're gonna kill me. Ah'm too dangerous to have around. Ah hurt two a my teachers. Ah hurt the people Ah care about an' jus'..." she frowns a moment.

    "An' that's all right. I prayed an' settled up, an' Ah wouldn't blame 'em if they sent their good ones ta jus'... make it quick." she breathes out.

    Rosie turns to Sinister a moment, and then she reaches out, shakily, and takes his hand.

    "... but Ah haven't figured out yet if waitin' to die's the same as takin' my own life."

Sinister has posed:
"Neither are particularly favourable," Sinister replies, sounding mildly contemptuous of the possibility. "One might note, that trials happen along difficult roads, young lady. They are meant to be challenges, but tripping and faceplanting over them isn't conducive to bettering the self, or the situation of others." Looking up then, he gazes briefly at the roof of the cabin, as if having a thought, then simply guides her outside by the hand. Very shortly, in the shadow of the trees, the ground starts to fall away beneath as by external means, gravity becomes NOT so much of an issue at all. Oh gosh, that's a long way to the ground.

Antigravity has posed:
    Gravity was rarely a problem for the girl, and she gives a slight squeak as they lift into the air, though Sinister would find she follows him up, adjusting her own gravity.

    "... where are we going?" she questions, too tired to bother with 'why am I following this horrifying looking man' and 'I miss sleeping in a bed'.

Sinister has posed:
"Somewhere where there's some refinement and quite possibly civilized discourse," Sinister's reply is mild, but the speed at which they begin to move is anything but mild. Flying may not be new, but speed may well be. Up here, the horizon is a dim semicircle of light, the prospect of electricity, houses and human kind are there, luring the eyeball. But he sets off vaguely north and west, toward Rochester.

"Sleep. In flight movies aren't what they used to be."

Antigravity has posed:
    Yes, the speed is new, and she lacked her goggles, and she closes her eyes against the wind.

    She's quiet, letting him now pull her along with a sinking feeling that she was even less safe than before -- she stayed awake, just in case he dropped her.

Sinister has posed:
"I said, <<Sleep>>..." Sinister's voice seems to come from precisely inside poor Rosie's head in that instant, though whoever knows if it is a strong enough signal, when one is concentrating on high-speed levitation.

Perhaps it's imagination, that sparks the auditory center to perceive "...honestly, whyever would I drop after bothering to take all that time? ... the utter lack of logic is astounding. And they live in a /school/..."

Antigravity has posed:
    -- and with that suggestion, Rosemary McGowan's head tilts, and she sleeps, going limp against Sinister's grasp -- though indeed, why would she worry about someone flying and dropping her?

    Especially since the last one was so friendly?

Sinister has posed:
SOme time later....

It's warm and it's actually rather comfortable where Rosie's at. A plush pillow, with clean cover to it, a comfortable bed, even if she's lying ontop of it, it's got all the right support in all the right places.

There's also the smell of a warm, sweet tea on steamy tendrils that reaches her nose.

The room where she's at looks like it might be an old clinic, but if that's the case, it hasn't been used for a good long while. There isn't any of that 'antiseptic' kind of smell, in the area.

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie awakes with a start. It's a strange room. A distinctly odd room with the smell of warm tea. She takes a deep breath, thinking that she had been taken back to the Mansion in a panic.

    As soon as she gets her bearings, she swings her legs off the bed as she tenses, crouching down as she registers the room: Windows, doors, means of escape. Cameras.

Sinister has posed:
THere's a door. No windows as this appears to be an old examination room. No cameras to speak of, but there is a deep, almost inaudible humming, as of a large generator that seems to be coming from somewhere down below her feet. The panelling looks like it was put up in the 60's or 70's and some of the laminate is peeling up. The ceiling tiles are a dirty yellowish brown, with some deeper stains around some, that look as if there was a leak in the roof once. Doppler holes dot them all over the surface.

And the smell of tea is coming from the bedside table, one of those old ricketty types on wheels. A large white mug of sweet tea is sitting there, innocuously.

Antigravity has posed:
    The tea may be innocent, but is it, really? Rosie shits her weight, and she reaches up to the tea, pausing to smell it before giving a hesitant sip. Her throat was dry. She had a slight, pounding headache from dehydration and exhaustion, and holding the tea mug in her hand she slowly made her way to the door. She reaches to test the handle, her eyes narrowed a moment.

Sinister has posed:
Handle goes down. Door unlatches without fuss. She appears not to be locked in, at least. And the tea tastes good; a little honey and a quality brew, with milk. The kind of tea the English depend on, where others cling to coffee like unto a caffienated god.

Outside the little examination room, is more of the same kind of decor, save that there's a boarded up fronting to the waiting room of what truly does seem to be an abandoned doctor's office. There's a desk, shelving where once hard copies of patient's files used to be and a water cooler with no water in it any more. An old jack for where a landline telephone used to be plugged in.

Off of this reception though, is a darker room, where TV seems to be playing, by the flicker of lights on the wall and very soft commentary over the air '...reports of a swathe of devastation radiating in a direction from.....' can be made out.

Antigravity has posed:
    The teenager, barefoot makes her way along the hallway, mindful of where her feet land, watching for needles and other dangers -- and she pauses a moment, listening to the news playing on the TV, her head poking around the corner hesitantly. She hadn't intended to leave so much destruction.

    She hadn't meant a lot of things.

Sinister has posed:
THe pictures are a lot of them from hellicopters and the like, snapshots of destroyed trees, caved houses, all that kind of joyous reminder of what just happened. It's reporting on a local station that funnels the NASDAC and other trading information along the bottom of the screen, along with other little bulletins. Sounds of washing up can be heard off of this room, which has a few chairs and the TV spliced in to the wall. Light from in there shows a man with his sleeves up, cleaning cups and other bits of cutlery and crockery. Sinister, without pale skin, without the red eyes. Without the cloak. A man, with his hair tied back in a ponytail and his sleeves rolled up neatly, white shirt, black slacks, black shoes. Ordinary. He looks sidelong toward her. "Ah, you're awake. The tea is helping?" setting a plate down to dry on the rack beside him.

Antigravity has posed:
    "... you put me to sleep." the teenager states, cautiously staying out of grasping distance of the now plainly dressed Sinister. She looks down at the milk tea, and then sips it again, her hazel eyes narrowing a little bit as she takes another sip.

    "... but yes."

    The young woman looks up at the television again, and she shakes a little bit. It was a monstrous amount of damage she had created. The school administration is probably furious with her.

    "You look normal."

Sinister has posed:
"Well, yes. Falling asleep is considerably more pleasant than passing out," Sinister moves along the little kitchenette, opens a small fridge and pulls out a gatorade green melon flavour bottle, walking back. He puts that down beside her on the counter, nods at it and turns about. There's a sandwich, cheese and ham from the looks of it, on a plate with a single cookie beside it. He takes that up and hands it to her, with a nod, looking at it, then her. "You're recovering from major exhaustion, both will help after the tea." He informs, looking beyond at the news.

"They seem to think it was a localized earthquake, although nobody is giving a difinitive answer, given that nobody has scientific readings. Interesting, I suppose. I think you tore a few muscles in your flight, which is a little regretable." Funnily though, it doesn't feel to her, like she did. She probably feels quite rested.

He ignores the 'you look normal'.

Antigravity has posed:
    Teenagers say the darndest things.

    "You are... awful nice for a fella named Sinister." she states quietly, drawing her legs up as she sits down, and she accepts the sandwich and the cookie.

    ".. but it doesn't make any sense. Ah mean, there's plates an' faults under New England, but there's rarely anythin' over a four or five on the Richter scale. It'd be easier to explain it as microcell bursts due to climate change." she states, taking a bite out of the sandwich, and, talking around the mass of ham, cheese and mustard:

    "LEast Ah'm not causin' people to look for aliens again."

Sinister has posed:
"Oh, that's because we're being nice and polite and conversational. If you were yelling and throwing things at me, then we might be having a very different kind of conversation," Sinister replies, with a wry smile. "It's all in the engagement," he tosses the dishtowel over his shoulder and stares at the TV screen though, his expression draining to neutral. "That explanation would require that they actually know what they're talking about and that they have an explanation that the public would buy. Without any evidence of outside interference, they will try and spin a truth that is placating to enough of the masses that they will remain calm and not look for something worse. Things tend to escalate, the majority of the time, because of a desire to find that worse case scenario."

Sinister sighs slightly at this. "I suppose I ought to reach out to your elders and teachers and let them know you are safe and sound. I dare say that they will be quite worried after a while. What do you think?"

Antigravity has posed:
    "... that's fair." The Alabama girl replies quietly, and eats another half of the ham sandwich, and drinks some of the gatorade. She already feels better.

    "Dunno. Last time someone caught me mid-practice an' Ah was makin' cars float, they said it was aliens. Got a lotta UFO hunters in Jericho after that, least they ate at Tommy's." she remarks quietly, offhand, and she breaks the cookie in half, then in quarters, and nibbles at a bit of it before Sinister suggests contacting her elders and teachers.

    "... so they can dispose of me?" she questions quietly. Poor girl really does think she's in big enough trouble that the school would.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister watches her devour the food, the neverending fascination with the ability of the young to put away vast quantities of sustenance into hollow legs, is not always limited to the male gender. He seems pleased though, given there's a faint crinkle of the skin around his eyes and an oh-so-slight upturn of lips as he looks back at the TV. "I suppose one could have a lot of fun with the uneducated, in a harmless kind of way, with such things. It would be quite clever practice, playing practical jokes on the unsuspecting." And then, there is quiet. It goes on for some time, as if there is an inner debate occuring.

At length, there is a very small sigh and Sinister notes: "Have any of your teachers at any point, given you the impression that they get homicidal when accidents occur with talents? I am genuinely curious what has given rise to your belief that they will put an end to you, for losing control."

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie doesn't know how Sinister figured she lived at a school, but chalks it up to 'he's weird'.

    "Ah can control the mass of anythin' I can touch. Right now it's mostly solids, an' real thick liquids. But eventually Ah might be able to control thinner liquids, includin' the air we breathe." she states, draninig her gatorate, and then closing the lid back in it, to hold it in her hand for an example.

    "Right now, Ah can only affect so much mass. But the mass ah can control could take half the crowd at a Tide game, make the oxygen an' nitrogen in their lungs super-massive and increase its gravity, slaming the air through the bottom of their lungs, down an' out their feet. Kill twelve thousand in an instant, violently. With just the press of mah will." she states quietly.

    "An' you think no one else figured that one out? What I could be capable of? Ah stay up late workin' calculations an' the physics in my head and then... just..." she quietly states.

    "Ah am a monster, Mr. Sinister. An' now they know it too."

Antigravity has posed:
    And with a sudden CRUNCH, the gatorade bottle closes in on itself, and then falls to the floor with a lead-like THUD instead of a plastic bounce.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister doesn't look intimidated at all. No, far from it, he looks intrigued, particularly at the rather visible demonstration of imploding vacuum within empty bottle. "How /delicious/..." oh, but the way he said -that- word sets all kinds of wrongness into the tone. He gives a very slight clap of his hands, a golfclap of approval which is in all senses of the word /polite/ and not actually condescending, not in the way he looks quite genuine in the action. "I applaud your sense of responsibility in working through the science. You know it's quite rare to be that thorough. I would actually love to see how far you can go. I actually invite it, if you would care to try such a thing on myself?"

What the hell?!

Antigravity has posed:
    "... I wanted to be an astronaut. I had to be really good with physics and math. Helped me work out my powers." she replies quietly, not feeling as comfortable with the golf clap -- but it seemed in ernest.

    "Yeah, I know it's rare... I'm a highschooler. No one wants to study when you're an underclassman." she bemoans her age group -- but at the idea of using her powers -- on him?

    "... I... I really shouldn't. Adjustin' your mass and gravity throws off the cillae in your head and makes you vomit." she states quietly. "It's not pleasant."

Sinister has posed:
"Trust me," OHHHH, those bad words! Yes, they are very bad words, particularly given the courteous smile and the genuine affect that is being presented forward. "The mechanisms of my inner ear will not be remotely damaged by anything that you can do to me. That I promise you."

Antigravity has posed:
    There is a hesitance about it. Somewhat because right now, she would have to be touching him to make it work.

    So, the young woman reaches up, and puts her hand against his.

    And she tries to adjust his mass first, an instantaneous feeling of every molecule in his body suddenly switching properties, and then she adjusts gravity, trying to send him up to hit against the ceiling tiles.

    And true to form, she's not concentraiting on those sensitive little hairs inside peoples's ears, and he might get the worst feeling of vertigo -- if he's not guarding against it!

Sinister has posed:
Sinister looks very mildly surprised at the sense of sudden molecular polarization, then does indeed shoot up through the ceiling. It makes an impressive hole in the tiles, then the roof above that. And then, the tiles collect themselves up from nearly going everywhere and kind of... come down one at a time to slot back into the places that they'd been at, and outside of the building is a tremendous sounding **THUMP** "My my, I have quite dented the concrete."

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie has the feeling that Sinister isn't used to being surprised. She pauses, looking up at the hole and watching the ceiling tiles replace themselves -- and then she jumps at the sudden CRASH!

    And she turns, looking to open the doors of the ancient, abandoned clinic to try and check on Sinister!

    ... really, it'd be rude not to.

Sinister has posed:
The door is a tad stiff, but the lock is on the inside, not the out. It opens with a shove or two and some added help from mass density and gravity. Outside, Sinister stands in a spiderwork of cracked pavement in this abandoned area, the radiating impact akin to what one would expect from a thump-down from the Hulk. He appears to be intact however and not in fact, throwing up anywhere.

"Very, very impressive. You should see if you can manage such things without physical contact, as that does rather hamper such astounding potency. And it also puts pay to your suggestion that you could do such a thing to an entire football stadium with ease, given that. But in time, likely that would be the case. Hardly monstrous though. Merely very talented and helpful in many situations. You would be quite amazing at doing construction."

You know, as such things require commentary.

Antigravity has posed:
    ". . . did you hit your head real hard, Mr. Sinister?" Rosie asks, incredulous, and she holds the door open for him, looking at the dent in the pavement, then back to Sinister. "... are you going to be okay? I didn't hurt you non, did I?" she questions, suddenly worried that she's worn out her welcome.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister shakes his head. "You did not. It takes quite a lot more than a sudden upward momentum to hurt me," he replies, looking straight up at the sky. "You wanted to be an astronaut, eh? Valuable. I did once wonder how long it would take me to get to Mars, given distance is known, but other variables are not entirely clear. The view from up there is quite amazing though. It makes you realize how important it all is, down here. Have you ever seen?"

He looks back at her then, expectantly. It seems like he's entirely serious about seeing earth from Space though. The. Actual. Heck.

Antigravity has posed:
    "... nah, I can't fly that high. Ah don't have any gear an' I'd get altatude sickness. I can't breathe in space." she explains, and she gives a small shrug of her shoulders, before she goes to step back inside, to finish her cookie -- and get out of sight of the sky. She's keenly aware of others from Xavier's who can fly.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister glances up once more and with a shrug, steps inside the old and mostly-abandoned office though, closing the door with a soft -click- behind himself. "I don't think there are any that can actually breathe in space, at least not of those that were born on Terra Firma. To that effect though, capturing a bubble of pressure is how you get around such things." He opens his right hand, forming a cup of fingers there and a slightly white-ish glow forms a bubble, much like Jared the Goblin King and his glass balls. He rolls it across his fingertips and lets it levitate. "ALso works on transporting goldfish from one aquarium to the other. A self-contained atmosphere."

Antigravity has posed:
    "... you keep goldfish?" the young woman balks a moment, then gives a small smile, and fearlessly reaches up to poke at the bubble, levitating in the air.

    "I'm not able to do anythin' like that -- that's pretty useful!" she replies to Sinister, looking up at him with a mixture of appreciation and wonder.

    "I wonder if I would be able to even do it without being table to touch things in a certain radius -- oh man, oh man..." she whispers quietly, and rubs the back of her neck.

Sinister has posed:
It is slightly solid to the touch, as if the air itself has been forced into a shape where the oxygen and nitrogen, the carbon dioxide are all in close alignment. "You could, but it would be a matter of perceiving the flow of air..." Sinister steps up closer, reaching out to waft the air over her fingertips. "And thereby, controlling the density in a ring around yourself, rather than the entire of the thing. Hmmm." He glances about, then with a twirl of one wrist, dust lifts up and hangs in particulates in the air, allowed only to drift with the air currents. "Likely, it would be easier if you trick your mind with colour. Take a small smoke cannister around with you to create a bubble wall of density, so that you can create a bubble you can transport via gravity."

Bad. Bad. man.

Antigravity has posed:
    "... and Glenda the Good Witch it about the place." Rosie gives a smile up to Sinister as he offers her help. And she considers a moment.

    "Do you really think I'd be able to do something like that? Something with so fine a particulate?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister nods to her. "Mass is mass, whether it is a flea or an elephant," he replies, his voice going a little distant as he does so, gazing at the bubble and the dust that dances around it. "Every cell, every tiny aspect and detail of a being has its own mass, its own density. Is both a cohesive whole and yet separate at the same time-- it is only the microscopic bonds and the physics of the unique shape of water, that helps us keep ourselves together, much of the time. We are, in essence, a lot of tiny building blocks, held together by bubbles and the power of water. The fundament though, adds both wonder and a little depression into the truth."

Antigravity has posed:
    Rosie gives a nod, and then rubs at the back of her head a moment, then shtakes a deep breath.

    "So... what's the first lesson then?" she questions with a little smile, looking up to Sinister. "I think I'd have a lot to learn from you."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister simply smiles at her. "Good," he replies. And this perhaps is the first step in the wrong direction, or the right one, depending on your perspective.