Prompt #24 – Anger & Prompt #82 - Gloves
Dec. 27th, 2005 10:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azraelz_angelPrompt#24 - Anger & Prompt#82 - Gloves
Title: A Life Well-Lived
Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters and/or settings. If it looks familiar - I probably didn't invent it.
Rating: FR18
In theory - all my Tara stories should follow a progression of her death in BtVS in an AU.
A/N: I am going to skip from place to place in this series. I’ll try my best to make it easy to follow. The X-Men series takes place after the completion of the Highlander series (not complete), and after the unwritten Firefly/Serenity one. After all 100 are written I will go back through and arrange these chapters in the correct order.
Please enjoy and don’t hesitate to ask for an explanation if needed.
**
Chapter Three of the X-Men Crosses - Prompt#24 - Anger
**
**
“Into the Woods”
**
He thought he was the only one allowed in the woods. He thought he had to be strong, put on a brave face for the kids, but it wasn’t necessary. He thought he could intimidate her simply because he was the Wolverine.
**
The stress from the school finally broke me. The constant state of fear circulating through the school was enough to drive anyone sensitive over the edge. My shields needed to be repaired, strengthened, and in order to do that I had to get away.
The complete understanding on Charles’ face made me sad. He knew all too well what I was going through. I made a mental note as I left to offer him a break when I returned. Selfishly though I had to fix myself first. My shields were nothing compared to the world’s most powerful psychic.
I had walked alone into the woods. I dressed simply, sweat pants and a tee shirt. I wanted to be as close to nature as possible, devices of the world only disturbed that quest. I had walked deep into the forest, making my own path, until I could no longer feel any of the students. I sank, Indian-style, to the ground, laying my hands palm down on the Earth. It was only then that I let my shields drop.
Immediately the calm of the Earth filled me, rejuvenated my strength. The peace and quiet I had been craving for was short-lived. The Earth itself recoiled as someone destroyed its woods. The man’s anger rippled outward, tainting everything in its path. Unfortunately I was not quick enough to release my connection to the Earth, and his anger broke over me.
So much pain, blame, and guilt. It made me cold inside. I broke my connection and rose to my feet in time to witness a man barge through some brush and right into my clearing. He looked feral, more animal or closer to nature than any man I had ever seen. It was then that I noticed his claws protruding from both hands. Mutations were common in this world, but the metal still seemed awkward and unnatural.
He growled and stalked toward me. I let him. I could see the fight in him, waiting to come out. He charged, picking up the pace rather quickly. I side-stepped his first attack, skirting around those claws and only coming away with a small nick on my arm.
He came at me again, less rage and more thought, and again I managed to get away with only a cut. His nose flared as the scent of my blood filled the air. He stood panting and enraged a few feet from me. On the third attack I kicked up a loose branch and attacked him back.
We traded blows, each striking one another, each drawing blood. And then finally the fight left him. He visibly deflated, claws sliding back inside his knuckles, and shoulders dropping. I stood, battered and bruised, but still wary. He looked up at me and I was shocked to see a soul too old for his body. Deep-seated pain shone out. Uncaring of my own safety I was drawn to him, drawn to the familiarity I had seen in those eyes.
When I was within arms length I stopped and waited for him to make a move. He closed the distance between us and fell to his knees. His arms wrapped around my waist and buried his head in my stomach. I let him hold on to me, and I gently laid a hand on his head.
We stood there in the woods while the anger disappeared from within him. I channeled the healing power of the Earth and gave it to the man.
And together we healed and rebuilt our strength.
**
**
Chapter Four of the X-Men Crosses - Prompt#82 - Gloves
**
**
“Touch”
**
The fork clattered on the tile floor. Two bounces before it settled down. I stooped, my tray balanced in one hand, as I reached for the dropped utensil. Bare fingers, with lime green nail polish, wrapped around mine for a few moments as we grabbed for the fork. A startled gasp and the fingers released the fork and the cafeteria grew quiet.
I rose to my feet, suddenly aware of everyone staring. I handed the fork over to Rogue. She had put her gloves back on and was shaking slightly. I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Do I have cooties?” I asked as she took the fork.
“I didn’t hurt you?” Rogue asked in astonishment. She looked about to pass out from fear.
“No…” I trailed off. “What did you think just happened?”
“My mutation…I can’t touch people…I drain them,” she quietly confessed.
“Which is why you wear your gloves and long sleeves,” I added, sadness creeping into my heart. She only nodded her confirmation. “Try again,” I urged her and held out my hand. She shot out of her chair fast enough to send it tumbling behind her. “Please, Rogue,” I begged her.
“No. I could kill you.”
“I’m not that easy to kill,” I shot back and she hesitated. “I won’t let you hurt me. I’ll be fine I promise.” She crept forward and I could see her fidgeting with her gloves.
We were the absolute center of attention for all the students and the staff. They all looked nervous, except for Charles.
She peeled off her glove and slowly reached out a pale, slender hand toward my own. It took a few moments of hesitation before she finally took my hand. Everyone held their breath, waiting for something to happen that never did. A full minute passed and Rogue was crying at this point. She let go of my hand and gently traced the contours of my face. I let her touch me until she realized the cafeteria was entirely watching. She pulled her hand back, embarrassed, and pulled on her glove again.
“How?” she whispered.
I shrugged and whispered back, “Magic.”
**
Title: A Life Well-Lived
Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters and/or settings. If it looks familiar - I probably didn't invent it.
Rating: FR18
In theory - all my Tara stories should follow a progression of her death in BtVS in an AU.
A/N: I am going to skip from place to place in this series. I’ll try my best to make it easy to follow. The X-Men series takes place after the completion of the Highlander series (not complete), and after the unwritten Firefly/Serenity one. After all 100 are written I will go back through and arrange these chapters in the correct order.
Please enjoy and don’t hesitate to ask for an explanation if needed.
**
Chapter Three of the X-Men Crosses - Prompt#24 - Anger
**
**
“Into the Woods”
**
He thought he was the only one allowed in the woods. He thought he had to be strong, put on a brave face for the kids, but it wasn’t necessary. He thought he could intimidate her simply because he was the Wolverine.
**
The stress from the school finally broke me. The constant state of fear circulating through the school was enough to drive anyone sensitive over the edge. My shields needed to be repaired, strengthened, and in order to do that I had to get away.
The complete understanding on Charles’ face made me sad. He knew all too well what I was going through. I made a mental note as I left to offer him a break when I returned. Selfishly though I had to fix myself first. My shields were nothing compared to the world’s most powerful psychic.
I had walked alone into the woods. I dressed simply, sweat pants and a tee shirt. I wanted to be as close to nature as possible, devices of the world only disturbed that quest. I had walked deep into the forest, making my own path, until I could no longer feel any of the students. I sank, Indian-style, to the ground, laying my hands palm down on the Earth. It was only then that I let my shields drop.
Immediately the calm of the Earth filled me, rejuvenated my strength. The peace and quiet I had been craving for was short-lived. The Earth itself recoiled as someone destroyed its woods. The man’s anger rippled outward, tainting everything in its path. Unfortunately I was not quick enough to release my connection to the Earth, and his anger broke over me.
So much pain, blame, and guilt. It made me cold inside. I broke my connection and rose to my feet in time to witness a man barge through some brush and right into my clearing. He looked feral, more animal or closer to nature than any man I had ever seen. It was then that I noticed his claws protruding from both hands. Mutations were common in this world, but the metal still seemed awkward and unnatural.
He growled and stalked toward me. I let him. I could see the fight in him, waiting to come out. He charged, picking up the pace rather quickly. I side-stepped his first attack, skirting around those claws and only coming away with a small nick on my arm.
He came at me again, less rage and more thought, and again I managed to get away with only a cut. His nose flared as the scent of my blood filled the air. He stood panting and enraged a few feet from me. On the third attack I kicked up a loose branch and attacked him back.
We traded blows, each striking one another, each drawing blood. And then finally the fight left him. He visibly deflated, claws sliding back inside his knuckles, and shoulders dropping. I stood, battered and bruised, but still wary. He looked up at me and I was shocked to see a soul too old for his body. Deep-seated pain shone out. Uncaring of my own safety I was drawn to him, drawn to the familiarity I had seen in those eyes.
When I was within arms length I stopped and waited for him to make a move. He closed the distance between us and fell to his knees. His arms wrapped around my waist and buried his head in my stomach. I let him hold on to me, and I gently laid a hand on his head.
We stood there in the woods while the anger disappeared from within him. I channeled the healing power of the Earth and gave it to the man.
And together we healed and rebuilt our strength.
**
**
Chapter Four of the X-Men Crosses - Prompt#82 - Gloves
**
**
“Touch”
**
The fork clattered on the tile floor. Two bounces before it settled down. I stooped, my tray balanced in one hand, as I reached for the dropped utensil. Bare fingers, with lime green nail polish, wrapped around mine for a few moments as we grabbed for the fork. A startled gasp and the fingers released the fork and the cafeteria grew quiet.
I rose to my feet, suddenly aware of everyone staring. I handed the fork over to Rogue. She had put her gloves back on and was shaking slightly. I raised an eyebrow at her.
“Do I have cooties?” I asked as she took the fork.
“I didn’t hurt you?” Rogue asked in astonishment. She looked about to pass out from fear.
“No…” I trailed off. “What did you think just happened?”
“My mutation…I can’t touch people…I drain them,” she quietly confessed.
“Which is why you wear your gloves and long sleeves,” I added, sadness creeping into my heart. She only nodded her confirmation. “Try again,” I urged her and held out my hand. She shot out of her chair fast enough to send it tumbling behind her. “Please, Rogue,” I begged her.
“No. I could kill you.”
“I’m not that easy to kill,” I shot back and she hesitated. “I won’t let you hurt me. I’ll be fine I promise.” She crept forward and I could see her fidgeting with her gloves.
We were the absolute center of attention for all the students and the staff. They all looked nervous, except for Charles.
She peeled off her glove and slowly reached out a pale, slender hand toward my own. It took a few moments of hesitation before she finally took my hand. Everyone held their breath, waiting for something to happen that never did. A full minute passed and Rogue was crying at this point. She let go of my hand and gently traced the contours of my face. I let her touch me until she realized the cafeteria was entirely watching. She pulled her hand back, embarrassed, and pulled on her glove again.
“How?” she whispered.
I shrugged and whispered back, “Magic.”
**
