quantitatitivity



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    “A prison’s still a prison, cousin,” Erik says, leaning against the wall in what he hopes looks like nonchalance but is mostly the fact that the room is starting to spin. “How long you think you can keep me here? Be honest.”

    T’Challa pauses on his way out the door, a step, maybe two away from Erik. He looks strong, clean and composed, with none of the blood and desperation Erik remembers from their last battle.

    “We’re going to do what you wanted,” T’Challa says. “Outreach. Revealing ourselves. Intervening in the world. It’s the right thing to do,” he nods, as if still trying to convince himself.

    “That’s not what I wanted,” Erik says.

    AKA: my take on the ~classic~ Erik wakes up in Wakanda and nothing goes the way he expects fic.

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    15 Mar 2018