Quixotic
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
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Reviews:
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Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
34
Views:
5,430
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
8
Quixotic Chapter Eight (NC-17)
Quixotic Chapter Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…Out of nowhere today,
I burst out with “Beware the Nipple of Rivendell!” I blame the extended version of the movie, lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena
are so sparkley and wonderful for hosting!
ProPhile…is around here somewhere.
Readers/Reviewers: Big huge duck hugs for all of you. I’m not sure if those are big huge hugs, or
hugs from big huge ducks or what… And
Morgan… You there?
She hated
the winters the most, she decided as she watched the snow start to fall. The first time she saw snow, she was
delighted. It was like some god-born
gift, tiny bits of stars on her skin that melted away at the slightest
touch. She liked to pretend that they
seeped into her skin and danced there stilwirlwirling in her veins like
crystals. They did not have snow on
Nova Roma. It never got very cold
there, but she had heard tales of old Roma that they had snow there, but no one
in Nova Roma had ever seen it. She was
the first Nova Roman, as far as she knew, to ever see true winter. I am unprecedented. She pressed her forehead to the glass and
sighed, wing ing the fog spread on the window.
Outside, she could see Kitty leading Kurt back across the lawn and Jean
helping Scott to his feet. The entire
scene had been funny to see but she could not honestly muster a laugh. She always felt so lonely in the dark
months, so unbearably alone. Even with
Lance in her bed, she felt alone. It
was nearly Saturnalia[1]
and she knew he had something planned—He’s terrible at secrets, she
thought to herself in mild amusement—but for some reason, that did nothing but
make her feel worse. It will never
be like Nova Roma. Lance stirred in
her bed, sighing and shifting in his sleep, making her pause. She listened for his even breathing before
letting her mind wander again. Last
thing I need is for him to start coddling me again. I love him dearly but I can’t be smothered. The silvery moonlight seemed to pick out the
individual flakes of snow as beg began to fall faster and thicker. She knew the ground would be white by
morning and this did not thrill her as it used to.
Despite the
heater, Amara was still cold as she came out of the half bath in her room. Her
flannel nightgown, bought under duress from Storm and Kitty after they found
her nightwear consisted of thin silks and cottons, hung to her ankles under a
heavy sweatshirt borrowed from Lance.
As always, she was a little surprised to find him in her bed. In Nova Roma, I would be married
now. I would have two…no,
three…brats. Children. Brats.
I would be on my way to leading the people… A great leader, the first
female in generations…ever? She
stood beside her bed and watched Lance sleep for a moment before sitting down
on the empty side—the cold side. Her
hands palm-up on her knees, she could see the faint white sheen of the scars
she had given herself. Pain. Pain is real. Pain is home. A
twinge of guilt struck low low in her spine, making her slink into bed next to
Lance as if she had done something wrong.
Her promise was binding and she would not break it. She would not hurt herself… The seed of an idea began to germinate in
her mind, the kernel of a desire so dark she could not admit it to
herself. Pain will free me…
Lance felt
her slip into bed next to him and sighed with relief. He had not been sleeping so soundly as to miss her
departure. He could feel the set of her
body radiatindnesdness, he heard her sighs and saw her mournful stares out the
window. The bronze and silver blades on
her small altar near the window glinted in the moonlight and he briefly toyed
with hiding them from her, but he knew that would be akin to sacrilege. He rested his hand on her hip and she turned
to face him, snuggling close against him.
“Your hands are cold,” he muttered.
“So are my
toes.”
“Get ‘em
off my leg.”
“No.”
“Okay.” He pulled her closer, his breath tickling
his collarbone. “I can’t stay much
longer. Logan’ll kill us.”
“No he
won’t,” she sighed. “Kurt’s gone weird
again. Logan’s probably dealing with
him and Kitty now.”
Lance was
glad. He was far too comfortable to
seriously entertain moving just then.
“Amara…Princess…is everything okay?”
She became
very still. “Why do you ask?”
“Just…wondering.”
Amara
relaxed fractionally. “Everything is…”
She had a brief moment where she wanted to tell him everything, but instead she
said, “…fine. Just fine.”
Liar.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes.”
She kissed him on his shoulder and said firmly, “Good night, Lance.”
“Good
night, Princess.” He made a mental note
to blthe the knives’ edges the first chance he got in the morning.
Emma
swirled the brandy in her snifter and stretched luxuriously before the
fire. “Is this sort of thing common?”
OnlyOnly
lately,” Professor Xavier murmured, enjoying the dancing flames. “Do you think you’ll be able to deal with
this sort of thing, as you call it, when you start the Boston branch?”
She
smirked. “Charles, I was a member of
the Hellfire Club. I lead the Hellions
for years. I have at least a decade of
experience dealing with megalomaniacal, petty, violent, powerful mutants. What the Hell makes you think I’m ready to
deal with teenagers?”
He laughed
softly and took a sip of his scotch.
“You won’t have to do this alone.
We need to…spread out…some of the students here so you will be starting
with ones you know. And Banshee has
expressed an interest in helping so long as he can split time with
br
branch.” He covered a yawn with the
back of his hand and added, “I think you’ll do fine once you have some more
practice in administration and…general things.”
“General
things?” she murmured, curling her toes into the thick rug beneath her. “Like what?”
“Teaching…basic
child psychology…you can’t just go around reading their minds all the time, you
know. It will destroy trust and…”
“Charles,”
she said softly, quelling his outpouring, “I’m not as heartless as all that.”
He sighed
and set his tumbler to one side. “I
apologize, Emma. It’s been a while
since we’ve really talked and sometimes I forget.”
“You?” she
laughed, rising to her feet and padding over to him as she spoke. “You’re the least forgetful man I’ve ever
met. Birthdays, anniversaries, dentist
appointments,” she stopped before his wheelchair and smiled. “You remember it all.”
Professor
Xavier stared up at her with a strange expression on his face. “Emma…”
“It a
a
long time ago, Charles,” she murmured, bending low. “Don’t worry about it.
It’s over and in the past. We’re
adults. Let it go.”
Sean
Cassidy had to have the worst timing on the planet. He was almost positive the study was empty and looked forward to
reading some of Theresa’s school work in there, in private. He knew so little about his own daughter
that he was taking what ever little bit he could find and devouring it for some
insight, including her papers for Storm and Beast. He was not expecting the scene which met his eyes behind the
study door. A fire blazed in the grate,
the Professor and Emma before it. She
was bent over, her face inches from his and her blouse unbuttoned to the fourth
button. The Professor looked unusually
casual, his tie off and shirt open at the neck, his face shadowed by the
firelight. “Oh,” he gulped. “I’m so sorry…”
“No, come
in,” the Professor encouraged, backing away from Emma. “We were having a drink. Would you like some brandy? Scotch?
I think I have vodka…”
Emma
smirked and sauntered back over to where she had left her brandy. “Evening, Sean. Grading?”
“Just…reading. Um, I can leave you two alone…” It had been so long since he had felt that
fluttering in his stomach that he could not believe it existed anymore. Not Emma…why?
“Mmm…” She
swirled the alcohol again and took a sip.
“Sit down. You look nervous.”
Professor
Xavier frowned deeply. “Excuse me.
Henry needs me downstairs. Feel
free to help yourself to the liquor cabinet.”
Banshee
folded Theresa’s papers convulsively as his mentor excused himself from the
room. “I’ll just let you enjoy the fire
then,” he muttered to Emma, turning to leave.
“Are you
afraid of me, Sean?” she asked lightly.
“What? No!”
He turned to face her and found her closer than she should have
been. “Why do you think that?”
“You run
every time you see me…Is it my breath?” she asked facetiously. “Or maybe my hair? Or do you like the boys better than the girls?”
“What the
Hell kind of a question is that?”
“A fair
one, considering. Sit down, have a
drink. I’ll tell you all about
Theresa.”
“How do you
know about my daughter?” he asked suspiciously, following her towards the fire.
She tapped
the side of her head with a smirk.
“Guess.”
“That’s not
fair of you.”
“That’s
life.” She handed him the glass of bourbon
and water she had been preparing. “Sit
down and relax. You won’t get the
chance to do this often here.”
Slowly, he
took the offer and sat across from her.
“Tell me all about her,” he said finally.
“You
first. Tell me about you.”
“Can’t your
read it?” he asked snidely.
She
smiled. “Maybe I just like hearing you
talk…”
A/N Next up, Remy/Jubes, Kurtty…and who knows, lol!
[1]
http://itsa.ucsf.edu/~snlrc/encyclopaedia_romana/calendar/saturnalia.html
Quixotic Chapter Eight (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…Out of nowhere today,
I burst out with “Beware the Nipple of Rivendell!” I blame the extended version of the movie, lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena
are so sparkley and wonderful for hosting!
ProPhile…is around here somewhere.
Readers/Reviewers: Big huge duck hugs for all of you. I’m not sure if those are big huge hugs, or
hugs from big huge ducks or what… And
Morgan… You there?
She hated
the winters the most, she decided as she watched the snow start to fall. The first time she saw snow, she was
delighted. It was like some god-born
gift, tiny bits of stars on her skin that melted away at the slightest
touch. She liked to pretend that they
seeped into her skin and danced there stilwirlwirling in her veins like
crystals. They did not have snow on
Nova Roma. It never got very cold
there, but she had heard tales of old Roma that they had snow there, but no one
in Nova Roma had ever seen it. She was
the first Nova Roman, as far as she knew, to ever see true winter. I am unprecedented. She pressed her forehead to the glass and
sighed, wing ing the fog spread on the window.
Outside, she could see Kitty leading Kurt back across the lawn and Jean
helping Scott to his feet. The entire
scene had been funny to see but she could not honestly muster a laugh. She always felt so lonely in the dark
months, so unbearably alone. Even with
Lance in her bed, she felt alone. It
was nearly Saturnalia[1]
and she knew he had something planned—He’s terrible at secrets, she
thought to herself in mild amusement—but for some reason, that did nothing but
make her feel worse. It will never
be like Nova Roma. Lance stirred in
her bed, sighing and shifting in his sleep, making her pause. She listened for his even breathing before
letting her mind wander again. Last
thing I need is for him to start coddling me again. I love him dearly but I can’t be smothered. The silvery moonlight seemed to pick out the
individual flakes of snow as beg began to fall faster and thicker. She knew the ground would be white by
morning and this did not thrill her as it used to.
Despite the
heater, Amara was still cold as she came out of the half bath in her room. Her
flannel nightgown, bought under duress from Storm and Kitty after they found
her nightwear consisted of thin silks and cottons, hung to her ankles under a
heavy sweatshirt borrowed from Lance.
As always, she was a little surprised to find him in her bed. In Nova Roma, I would be married
now. I would have two…no,
three…brats. Children. Brats.
I would be on my way to leading the people… A great leader, the first
female in generations…ever? She
stood beside her bed and watched Lance sleep for a moment before sitting down
on the empty side—the cold side. Her
hands palm-up on her knees, she could see the faint white sheen of the scars
she had given herself. Pain. Pain is real. Pain is home. A
twinge of guilt struck low low in her spine, making her slink into bed next to
Lance as if she had done something wrong.
Her promise was binding and she would not break it. She would not hurt herself… The seed of an idea began to germinate in
her mind, the kernel of a desire so dark she could not admit it to
herself. Pain will free me…
Lance felt
her slip into bed next to him and sighed with relief. He had not been sleeping so soundly as to miss her
departure. He could feel the set of her
body radiatindnesdness, he heard her sighs and saw her mournful stares out the
window. The bronze and silver blades on
her small altar near the window glinted in the moonlight and he briefly toyed
with hiding them from her, but he knew that would be akin to sacrilege. He rested his hand on her hip and she turned
to face him, snuggling close against him.
“Your hands are cold,” he muttered.
“So are my
toes.”
“Get ‘em
off my leg.”
“No.”
“Okay.” He pulled her closer, his breath tickling
his collarbone. “I can’t stay much
longer. Logan’ll kill us.”
“No he
won’t,” she sighed. “Kurt’s gone weird
again. Logan’s probably dealing with
him and Kitty now.”
Lance was
glad. He was far too comfortable to
seriously entertain moving just then.
“Amara…Princess…is everything okay?”
She became
very still. “Why do you ask?”
“Just…wondering.”
Amara
relaxed fractionally. “Everything is…”
She had a brief moment where she wanted to tell him everything, but instead she
said, “…fine. Just fine.”
Liar.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Yes.”
She kissed him on his shoulder and said firmly, “Good night, Lance.”
“Good
night, Princess.” He made a mental note
to blthe the knives’ edges the first chance he got in the morning.
Emma
swirled the brandy in her snifter and stretched luxuriously before the
fire. “Is this sort of thing common?”
OnlyOnly
lately,” Professor Xavier murmured, enjoying the dancing flames. “Do you think you’ll be able to deal with
this sort of thing, as you call it, when you start the Boston branch?”
She
smirked. “Charles, I was a member of
the Hellfire Club. I lead the Hellions
for years. I have at least a decade of
experience dealing with megalomaniacal, petty, violent, powerful mutants. What the Hell makes you think I’m ready to
deal with teenagers?”
He laughed
softly and took a sip of his scotch.
“You won’t have to do this alone.
We need to…spread out…some of the students here so you will be starting
with ones you know. And Banshee has
expressed an interest in helping so long as he can split time with
br
branch.” He covered a yawn with the
back of his hand and added, “I think you’ll do fine once you have some more
practice in administration and…general things.”
“General
things?” she murmured, curling her toes into the thick rug beneath her. “Like what?”
“Teaching…basic
child psychology…you can’t just go around reading their minds all the time, you
know. It will destroy trust and…”
“Charles,”
she said softly, quelling his outpouring, “I’m not as heartless as all that.”
He sighed
and set his tumbler to one side. “I
apologize, Emma. It’s been a while
since we’ve really talked and sometimes I forget.”
“You?” she
laughed, rising to her feet and padding over to him as she spoke. “You’re the least forgetful man I’ve ever
met. Birthdays, anniversaries, dentist
appointments,” she stopped before his wheelchair and smiled. “You remember it all.”
Professor
Xavier stared up at her with a strange expression on his face. “Emma…”
“It a
a
long time ago, Charles,” she murmured, bending low. “Don’t worry about it.
It’s over and in the past. We’re
adults. Let it go.”
Sean
Cassidy had to have the worst timing on the planet. He was almost positive the study was empty and looked forward to
reading some of Theresa’s school work in there, in private. He knew so little about his own daughter
that he was taking what ever little bit he could find and devouring it for some
insight, including her papers for Storm and Beast. He was not expecting the scene which met his eyes behind the
study door. A fire blazed in the grate,
the Professor and Emma before it. She
was bent over, her face inches from his and her blouse unbuttoned to the fourth
button. The Professor looked unusually
casual, his tie off and shirt open at the neck, his face shadowed by the
firelight. “Oh,” he gulped. “I’m so sorry…”
“No, come
in,” the Professor encouraged, backing away from Emma. “We were having a drink. Would you like some brandy? Scotch?
I think I have vodka…”
Emma
smirked and sauntered back over to where she had left her brandy. “Evening, Sean. Grading?”
“Just…reading. Um, I can leave you two alone…” It had been so long since he had felt that
fluttering in his stomach that he could not believe it existed anymore. Not Emma…why?
“Mmm…” She
swirled the alcohol again and took a sip.
“Sit down. You look nervous.”
Professor
Xavier frowned deeply. “Excuse me.
Henry needs me downstairs. Feel
free to help yourself to the liquor cabinet.”
Banshee
folded Theresa’s papers convulsively as his mentor excused himself from the
room. “I’ll just let you enjoy the fire
then,” he muttered to Emma, turning to leave.
“Are you
afraid of me, Sean?” she asked lightly.
“What? No!”
He turned to face her and found her closer than she should have
been. “Why do you think that?”
“You run
every time you see me…Is it my breath?” she asked facetiously. “Or maybe my hair? Or do you like the boys better than the girls?”
“What the
Hell kind of a question is that?”
“A fair
one, considering. Sit down, have a
drink. I’ll tell you all about
Theresa.”
“How do you
know about my daughter?” he asked suspiciously, following her towards the fire.
She tapped
the side of her head with a smirk.
“Guess.”
“That’s not
fair of you.”
“That’s
life.” She handed him the glass of bourbon
and water she had been preparing. “Sit
down and relax. You won’t get the
chance to do this often here.”
Slowly, he
took the offer and sat across from her.
“Tell me all about her,” he said finally.
“You
first. Tell me about you.”
“Can’t your
read it?” he asked snidely.
She
smiled. “Maybe I just like hearing you
talk…”
A/N Next up, Remy/Jubes, Kurtty…and who knows, lol!
[1]
http://itsa.ucsf.edu/~snlrc/encyclopaedia_romana/calendar/saturnalia.html