On the Appalachian Trail in northern Virginia, Kathy's world
Misfit and Raven spent most of their time on the trail singing, just loud enough to keep the wildlife away, without drawing the attention of too many humans or former humans that might be along the path. There weren't a whole lot of either; Raven had taken out two more exes since the one in the tent before the solstice and they'd dodged around a small group that had taken up camp at a small monument along the trail. She could see why Misfit chose to stay on the trail even after their supplies had started running low and winter arrived. For someone clearly so unused to combat, living on their wits in the woods must have seemed the easiest, safest option.
Neither of them talked about their pasts, though the number of times Misfit had to teach Raven what were apparently perfectly common, well-known songs from the last 60 years that she'd completely missed, they had to be starting to wonder. Raven knew she was wondering: about Misfit's life growing up, about when and how they realized they didn't identify the way the rest of the world said a person should. Had they been living that way for years? Or had the collapse of civilization been like an opening door for them, at least when it came to gender?
She only knew the barest minimum about nonbinary people, and that only because of Kathy, because she'd started showing Raven the world beyond the 1950s in all its wild, beautiful diversity. Part of her felt like just spending time around Misfit was helping make her into the person that Kathy had wanted her to be. Mostly, though, she just liked them. A lot. So she didn't ask. She knew how frustrating it could be to have to explain yourself to people over and over, and she had a feeling that Misfit's answers might be sort of like her own when people asked how she shapeshifted.
Their lives weren't decisions either one of them had made, or weren't just that. They both existed the way they did simply because that was who they were.
So it was a bit of a surprise to Raven when, as they got closer to Harper's Ferry along the Shenandoah River, Misfit just started opening up.
"I grew up around here," they said. "Further west a bit, near a town called Winchester."
"I thought you were from New York," Raven said. She kept her tone light, not wanting Misfit to think it was an accusation.
Misfit shook their head and rubbed their hand up over their beard, something Raven had noticed they did from time to time when they were uncomfortable or nervous. She wanted to wrap Misfit up in a hug, to let them know they had nothing to worry about, but she kept walking instead, determined simply to listen.
"I moved to New York after high school. Winchester -- it wasn't bad. There's -- was -- a college in town, place for performing arts. So it wasn't like those small towns where 'gay' is a bad word or anything." Their smile was nothing more than a faint shift of their mustache, but Raven had been studying their face for long enough now to spot it anyway. "There still wasn't anyone like me though. And New York has someone like everyone, right?"
Raven winced a little, and shrugged. There hadn't been anyone else like her there when she'd been there. That'd been 60 years ago, though. It might as well have been a million. "New York seems to think so," she said instead, and was gratified when Misfit laughed.
"They do, don't they?" they said. "Did, anyway. Probably still do. There were too many people in there, the exes couldn't have gotten them all."
Raven thought about the last she'd seen of Los Angeles before leaving, about entire neighborhoods on fire. That had been months ago. She had no idea what it might look like now. "Maybe."
They hiked in silence again for a few yards before Misfit continued. "That's the part that got to me, anyway. Too many people. Winchester wasn't tiny, but there were still places to be alone."
"That's why you started hiking," Raven guessed. It wasn't much of a leap. Misfit liked being alone more than almost anything, after all. "To get away from people."
"Almost didn't work," Misfit said. "This trail's practically crowded in the summer. But -- I liked it. I liked the traditions of it. The stories about how it changed people's lives. You pick a new name when you start hiking it, that's one of the rules. I got into so much trouble the first time I picked my own name, but this time I was actually expected to, you know?"
"So you picked Misfit."
"I picked Misfit. I always kind of liked the word anyway."
"I like it too," Raven agreed. "It -- fits."
Misfit snorted. "That's our Raven, folks. Queen of the Dad Jokes."
Raven had never heard of dad jokes before. "Well, I never had a dad," she said. "So I have to provide them myself."
Misfit faked a stumble and proceeded to run Raven right off the side of the trail. Their conversation was lost for several minutes in wrestling matches and bouts of laughter.
"What was it?" Raven asked, when they'd both calmed back down again. "The first name you picked?" Misfit didn't answer right away, and she rushed on, afraid of having offended them. "You don't have to say if you don't want to. I was just --"
"Robin."
Raven paused her walk, letting Misfit get several paces ahead of her. They stopped and turned when they realized she wasn't keeping up, their hands clenched around the straps of their pack.
"I know. It's tacky, right? Raven and Robin. That's why I never said --"
Raven skipped across the distance and tugged Misfit forward into a kiss. "I like it," she said again. "It fits."
They took a break, then, to make out and hydrate, and when they got back on the trail it was back to songs. Raven taught Misfit a silly little thing she'd heard on the streets growing up, and got a snort out of them with every dodged rhyme.
"There once was a farmer who took a young miss,
Behind of a barn where he gave her a --
Lecture on horses and chickens and eggs,
And told her that she had such very nice --
Manners for such a young girl of her charms,
A girl that he would like to take in his --
Wash and his ironing and then if she did,
They could get married and raise lots of --
Sweet violets! Sweeter than all the roses,
Covered all over from head to toe,
Covered all over in sweet violets. . . ."
Once that one was done, Misfit demanded more. Raven taught them simple counting songs women used to keep their hoards of children in line, raunchy marching songs she'd heard from returning soldiers, and the melancholy folk songs they sang in the taverns when the nights got long and the men got very very drunk. By the time she finished the one about gold rushers dying in the cold, they were huddled together by a campfire, the night sky crowded with sharp pinpoints of stars.
"I have another name too," Raven said at last. Misfit's head was leaned on her shoulder, and she wasn't completely certain they were actually awake. "A superhero name. We used them in LA. Mystique." She hadn't called herself that since she'd flown off the roof and left the Mighty Dragon behind. Some part of her had wanted to leave Mystique behind, maybe, to let her fall to ashes with the remains of Kathy's family.
Another part of her understood that it was Raven who'd been left behind. That this whole trip, from San Bernardino to that shelter so many miles south, Mystique had been the one in charge. That Raven had been nothing more than a ghost until Misfit had stepped out of the trees and refused to treat her as anything other than a person. She leaned her head on top of Misfit's and closed her eyes, for the first time in ages just letting herself feel the edges of the hole Kathy's death had left inside her. The shape of the girls they'd been, the Homecoming and Prom Queens, all set for Stanford and a new adventure. She thought she might cry, but her eyes were dry. All she had to do, right here in this moment, was breathe.
"Raven and Robin," she whispered. The body pressed close to hers shifted, an arm coming up around her waist.
"Misfit," they said, "and Mystique."
[ooc: NFB and NFI, natch. OOC is welcome. I honestly know nothing about the provenance of the song other than that my dad's family sang it at their family singalongs, but sure, it could totally be from the '40s. . . .]
Neither of them talked about their pasts, though the number of times Misfit had to teach Raven what were apparently perfectly common, well-known songs from the last 60 years that she'd completely missed, they had to be starting to wonder. Raven knew she was wondering: about Misfit's life growing up, about when and how they realized they didn't identify the way the rest of the world said a person should. Had they been living that way for years? Or had the collapse of civilization been like an opening door for them, at least when it came to gender?
She only knew the barest minimum about nonbinary people, and that only because of Kathy, because she'd started showing Raven the world beyond the 1950s in all its wild, beautiful diversity. Part of her felt like just spending time around Misfit was helping make her into the person that Kathy had wanted her to be. Mostly, though, she just liked them. A lot. So she didn't ask. She knew how frustrating it could be to have to explain yourself to people over and over, and she had a feeling that Misfit's answers might be sort of like her own when people asked how she shapeshifted.
Their lives weren't decisions either one of them had made, or weren't just that. They both existed the way they did simply because that was who they were.
So it was a bit of a surprise to Raven when, as they got closer to Harper's Ferry along the Shenandoah River, Misfit just started opening up.
"I grew up around here," they said. "Further west a bit, near a town called Winchester."
"I thought you were from New York," Raven said. She kept her tone light, not wanting Misfit to think it was an accusation.
Misfit shook their head and rubbed their hand up over their beard, something Raven had noticed they did from time to time when they were uncomfortable or nervous. She wanted to wrap Misfit up in a hug, to let them know they had nothing to worry about, but she kept walking instead, determined simply to listen.
"I moved to New York after high school. Winchester -- it wasn't bad. There's -- was -- a college in town, place for performing arts. So it wasn't like those small towns where 'gay' is a bad word or anything." Their smile was nothing more than a faint shift of their mustache, but Raven had been studying their face for long enough now to spot it anyway. "There still wasn't anyone like me though. And New York has someone like everyone, right?"
Raven winced a little, and shrugged. There hadn't been anyone else like her there when she'd been there. That'd been 60 years ago, though. It might as well have been a million. "New York seems to think so," she said instead, and was gratified when Misfit laughed.
"They do, don't they?" they said. "Did, anyway. Probably still do. There were too many people in there, the exes couldn't have gotten them all."
Raven thought about the last she'd seen of Los Angeles before leaving, about entire neighborhoods on fire. That had been months ago. She had no idea what it might look like now. "Maybe."
They hiked in silence again for a few yards before Misfit continued. "That's the part that got to me, anyway. Too many people. Winchester wasn't tiny, but there were still places to be alone."
"That's why you started hiking," Raven guessed. It wasn't much of a leap. Misfit liked being alone more than almost anything, after all. "To get away from people."
"Almost didn't work," Misfit said. "This trail's practically crowded in the summer. But -- I liked it. I liked the traditions of it. The stories about how it changed people's lives. You pick a new name when you start hiking it, that's one of the rules. I got into so much trouble the first time I picked my own name, but this time I was actually expected to, you know?"
"So you picked Misfit."
"I picked Misfit. I always kind of liked the word anyway."
"I like it too," Raven agreed. "It -- fits."
Misfit snorted. "That's our Raven, folks. Queen of the Dad Jokes."
Raven had never heard of dad jokes before. "Well, I never had a dad," she said. "So I have to provide them myself."
Misfit faked a stumble and proceeded to run Raven right off the side of the trail. Their conversation was lost for several minutes in wrestling matches and bouts of laughter.
"What was it?" Raven asked, when they'd both calmed back down again. "The first name you picked?" Misfit didn't answer right away, and she rushed on, afraid of having offended them. "You don't have to say if you don't want to. I was just --"
"Robin."
Raven paused her walk, letting Misfit get several paces ahead of her. They stopped and turned when they realized she wasn't keeping up, their hands clenched around the straps of their pack.
"I know. It's tacky, right? Raven and Robin. That's why I never said --"
Raven skipped across the distance and tugged Misfit forward into a kiss. "I like it," she said again. "It fits."
They took a break, then, to make out and hydrate, and when they got back on the trail it was back to songs. Raven taught Misfit a silly little thing she'd heard on the streets growing up, and got a snort out of them with every dodged rhyme.
"There once was a farmer who took a young miss,
Behind of a barn where he gave her a --
Lecture on horses and chickens and eggs,
And told her that she had such very nice --
Manners for such a young girl of her charms,
A girl that he would like to take in his --
Wash and his ironing and then if she did,
They could get married and raise lots of --
Sweet violets! Sweeter than all the roses,
Covered all over from head to toe,
Covered all over in sweet violets. . . ."
Once that one was done, Misfit demanded more. Raven taught them simple counting songs women used to keep their hoards of children in line, raunchy marching songs she'd heard from returning soldiers, and the melancholy folk songs they sang in the taverns when the nights got long and the men got very very drunk. By the time she finished the one about gold rushers dying in the cold, they were huddled together by a campfire, the night sky crowded with sharp pinpoints of stars.
"I have another name too," Raven said at last. Misfit's head was leaned on her shoulder, and she wasn't completely certain they were actually awake. "A superhero name. We used them in LA. Mystique." She hadn't called herself that since she'd flown off the roof and left the Mighty Dragon behind. Some part of her had wanted to leave Mystique behind, maybe, to let her fall to ashes with the remains of Kathy's family.
Another part of her understood that it was Raven who'd been left behind. That this whole trip, from San Bernardino to that shelter so many miles south, Mystique had been the one in charge. That Raven had been nothing more than a ghost until Misfit had stepped out of the trees and refused to treat her as anything other than a person. She leaned her head on top of Misfit's and closed her eyes, for the first time in ages just letting herself feel the edges of the hole Kathy's death had left inside her. The shape of the girls they'd been, the Homecoming and Prom Queens, all set for Stanford and a new adventure. She thought she might cry, but her eyes were dry. All she had to do, right here in this moment, was breathe.
"Raven and Robin," she whispered. The body pressed close to hers shifted, an arm coming up around her waist.
"Misfit," they said, "and Mystique."
[ooc: NFB and NFI, natch. OOC is welcome. I honestly know nothing about the provenance of the song other than that my dad's family sang it at their family singalongs, but sure, it could totally be from the '40s. . . .]