( It's subtle, faint — she hadn't noticed until now, until standing this close to him. Now she picks it up, that scent of metal and leather and cigars and the impossible to describe unique brand of human skin and sweat and genetics that mingle together into its own distinct identifier.
Logan. Beyond just the feral wildness, beyond the animalistic nature of his scent, she smells her father. Something in her chest pangs roughly; she'd meant to sympathize, but she hadn't counted on sympathizing quite this much. Logan, without the sickness coating him. Logan, in a way that's alive and vibrant.
This man must be from before. He must be from Erik's time.
She watches him stomp the flower impassively; she would have done the same. There is something new she's curious about, now that he says this, now that she's smelled that scent. )
Do you think you can really stop it? If you go back home, could you truly save someone?
no subject
Logan. Beyond just the feral wildness, beyond the animalistic nature of his scent, she smells her father. Something in her chest pangs roughly; she'd meant to sympathize, but she hadn't counted on sympathizing quite this much. Logan, without the sickness coating him. Logan, in a way that's alive and vibrant.
This man must be from before. He must be from Erik's time.
She watches him stomp the flower impassively; she would have done the same. There is something new she's curious about, now that he says this, now that she's smelled that scent. )
Do you think you can really stop it? If you go back home, could you truly save someone?