[For Pietro?]Forge was raised on the reservation, in this present mockery of old traditions, where they are all neither one thing nor another; he understands a life lived on the edges of things, in the between places, how the natural and the unnatural can -- must! -- intersect at the boundaries, forcing adaptation, evolution. He himself has been a
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Running in the desert is never fun. It's hot, sand gets into your clothes, and for a speed mutant, it meant that his trail was visible to all as the sand flew up into the air like a dust cloud.
Pietro had to stop though because it was hot and he needed to get a drink of water, so he went looking for anyone who might be able to provide it to him.
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"Quicksilver!"
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But Forge was waving his arms wildly like a maniac and he resisted rolling his eyes and he changed directions and went over to the man.
"I didn't know you were out this way, Forge." He shook the sand out of his white hair a moment, then noticed the pair of eyes hiding behind his back.
"Hello," he said softly, his soft daddy voice slipping easily in to ease the fear of the girl.
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"Hello," Clarice said in a very small voice.
"Clarice is a little shy," Forge added, smiling affectionately at her. "She can kick ass with the best of them, though."
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I keep telling him that neither of them are Exiles verse and therefor wouldn't know each other but he doesn't seem to care.....
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