A/N: Welcome to my strange story! Hope you enjoy! I do not own characters you recognize or plots that belong to the Marvel/X-Men franchises, though I wish I did! I am not writing this story for profit. Daria is all mine, so please don't take her. This story takes place after Jean's death at AlkalineLake. Please Review! I am redoing the first 15 chapters or so because I am making some changes, but fear not! This is still a Logan/Daria story! There will be some additional scenes added and some details changed, but the shell of each chapter is generally the same. If you see some updates that do not appear as a "NEW" chapter, that is because it is a "REVAMPED" chapter...hehehe. So, new improved chapters will be labeled with "ReVamped." Hope you all enjoy! Please take the time to review!
The Wolverine relishes his time inside the cage, where he can have complete control physically and take out his frustration. Being hindered by the human all the time takes its toll. Especially since the red headed bitch Jean sacrificed herself for the good of the kids and X-Men. Since Jean's death, Logan has been using the cage fights for his own personal release, giving the Wolverine even less time in control. He takes a gulp of the rest of his whiskey, feeling the reverberation of the next victim hopping from foot to foot as he throws practice jabs in the air.
He makes sure to take in everything while he has the opportunity. Who knows when the asshole human will set him loose again. What usually overwhelms the human is second nature to the animal. Each sensation belongs to him now. He can smell the perfumed prostitutes as they drink cheap tequila and adjust their saline implants. They coif their hair each time he glances at the bar, signaling for the bartender to bring up another whiskey. The human was willing to stick his dick into anything, the Wolverine had higher standards.
Turning to face his opponent, the screams around the cage erupt as the Wolverine takes a weak jab to the jaw. Not wanting a repeat of LaughlinCity, he takes a few punches to abdomen before raising his fist for one good hit to the temple. The man drops to the bloodied tarp like a sack of potatoes. The crowd is filled with the cheering of girls and disappointed booing of backwoods men who have lost what was left of their paychecks to the Wolverine.
The host of the cage fight night doesn't approach the Wolverine for a victory announcement. The cage door is unlocked and two men struggle to drag out the unconscious redneck. The Wolverine knows he doesn't have much time before the human takes control, always convinced the claws will come out otherwise, not that Logan is innocent of starting shit for fun in the past. He grabs his flannel shirt from the hook and pulls it on as he makes a beeline for the bar. The barflies instantly swarm him, rubbing their potent cheap perfumed bodies against him. The Wolverine snarls a warning at them before knocking back another glass of burning liquor.
Placing the empty glass on the counter with a thud, Wolverine catches a waft of something that stands out to him through the smoke and body odor. He lifts his nose slightly at the sweet scent that reminds him of brisk winter mornings in the forest. With the scent fading quickly, he turns to look toward the side door that is left swinging in the chilled night air. Whoever it was didn't smell remotely human to him, or at least not like these hicks. With his interest snagged, the Wolverine picks up his jacket to move toward the exit.
'Time's up, asshole,' the human snaps mentally as he sees the Wolverine picturing the vague outline of a woman, something that he can't remember the animal ever doing.
The Wolverine grimaces as the human takes the wheel of their body, forcing him back into the mental prison. Now he'll never know what that smell was, and it isn't like he knew what fucking town he was in so he could come back to track it. Canada was just a giant blur of fighting, fucking, and snow.
Logan rolls his shoulders, shaking off a plump blonde woman who had grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to get his attention. He can still faintly smell that scent that had caught the Wolverine's attention from at the bar. He sniffs again, what the Hell was it?
Georgie, the owner of the shit hole, hands him a fat wad of cash. With a brief flip through the bills, Logan slaps a fifty on the bar to cover his tab before heading toward the door. He pulls on his jacket and places a cheap cigar in the corner of his mouth, looking forward to the tobacco numbing his lips. The bell of the bar door rings as it shuts behind him.
As the winter chill begins to set into his bones, Logan rubs his hands briskly together to conserve some of the heat from the bar. He crosses the nearly empty parking lot scattered with rusted trucks already covered in a thick layer of snow. Before he can make it to his motorcycle, his sharp ears pick up the sound of nearby shuffling, followed by a muffled cry. The Wolverine instantly perks up in the back of his mind, making his way closer to the front of his psyche.
Debating for a moment if he should investigate, he huffs a hefty breath of condensation before pocketing his unlit cigar and walking toward the nearby surrounding forest. The Wolverine's mind briefly meshes with his own thoughts as he focused his senses. He is only a few feet into the trees' shadows before he sees two figures that seem to take no notice of his presence.
'Blood-' the Wolverine states as Logan catches a coppery scent on the wind blown toward him. For a moment, Logan considers letting the Wolverine out to handle the situation. But he shakes himself as he thinks about the last bar fight he let the beast handle, ending up with a bullet in his temple.
Logan stands still in the shadows to observe. The taller of the two people has his back against a tree. It is a young man, no more than twenty-five years old. 'Never know,' the Wolverine snickers, 'Look at us.' Shrugging off the alter ego, he sees that the second person is a woman. She seems to be nuzzling the man's neck, her face away from Logan, and probably another barfly or backwoods prostitute. But as Logan turns to walk away, the woman matches his step nearly on the same beat as she steps away from the young man. The man against the tree slumps to the ground limply. With the smell of blood now permeating the air, Logan doesn't have to get closer to confirm the man is dead as a doornail.
Eyeing the woman with caution, Logan stands his ground. She is young, no older than twenty years old. Her hair is made of wild dark curls that almost reach her waist. The locks blow to one side as a gust of wind blows by. The smell of blood onslaughts Logan, and something else, causing him to stiffen. 'That smell,' the Wolverine confirms in his mind, briefly tuning in with Logan's psyche.
The woman takes a step forward as he plants his feet firmly in a familiar fighting stance. She is wearing a brown motorcycle jacket, left open to expose a black v-neck shirt. Her jeans are tight, but faded by heavy wear. The bottoms of the jeans are tattered. And the woman is standing barefoot in the snow. She's a curvy girl, heavier than today's standards for beauty call for. But as she walks, she shows no sign of a lack of confidence.
The Wolverine snarls in Logan's mind at her confidence to approach them. She suddenly grins, exposing a set of long pointed eye teeth. As she shakes a finger at him teasingly, the corners of her lips curve upward and she lets out a husky laugh. She continues forward, sauntering like a large cat, stalking her prey.
"I'm glad I didn't find you first," she purrs. "I would hate to have drained such a fine looking man."
And then she is in front of him, mere inches away. She is about 5'6". She reaches up and runs a finger along his jaw, causing Logan to have to stifle a snarl at her touch that sends shivers up his skin. Her eyes are a startling green, dark like forest leaves, but with a shine that puts emeralds to shame. He notices a drop of blood below her lip before she begins to circle him, running a cool hand along his body as she does. Logan itches to grab her throat, but the Wolverine is unnaturally hesitant as she continues to circle.
"It has been centuries since I've encountered a real man. Not these pitiful excuses of boys that have never worked a real day in their lives." The woman's hands are gentle as they gloss over his coat. "They like to play with the fantasy that they could survive in the wilderness. They pretend they are a part of nature. Tough guys, they say. But one kind word from a pretty mouth and the exterior falls away." The lulling tone of her voice abruptly stops to break into a short giggle, "And soon they are crying, begging for mercy."
She has come full circle and she stops in front of him again. "But you, you are a part of nature. I can smell it on you. You are closer to me than you think," she smiles up at him broadly. "I feel you judging me for taking that poor excuse of a life. Keep judging away," the woman's voice holds no regret or accusation, just a statement. "I had not fed in weeks." She places a hand gently on his chest, over his heart, leaning inward to inhale. "But you are not like the others. What I wouldn't give for…"
But the lunatic woman is not able to complete her sentence. Logan's eyes shift briefly to gold as the Wolverine takes control and he impales her abdomen with his claws. He waits with a fading growl for the satisfaction to follow as she spits up blood and collapses. It doesn't happen. She laughs and steps away as if had tickled her, shaking her finger at him again. He retracts his claws, confused and slightly in awe, though his practiced masked look hides that.
She steps closer, pressing herself against him like another desperate whore looking for a sharp fuck and a wad of cash. Any other woman he might have laughed at, maybe even taken her against the wall of an alley - not this woman. He half expects her to try and kiss him, but instead, her eyes focus on the tags that hang loose around his neck.
"Wolverine," she reads aloud with an unladylike snort. "What is your real name?" But Logan moves forward to take over before the Wolverine makes a hazardous decision. He looks past her, avoiding her eyes. She snarls and places both hands on his face, forcing him to look at her gaze. She is too strong for him, inhumanly strong. His eyes unwillingly meet hers. "Tell me your real name."
Despite his being putting up every ounce of resistance, Logan feels a sense of peace fill him as she speaks to him the second time. He feels warm, with a strange connection woman, as if he would do anything for her. Her mind control reminds him of Xavier's, except that she wills him to want her control. The words fall from his lips like water from a river.
"My name is Logan."
The woman laughs and backs up slightly. "Now was that so hard?"
She twirls herself underneath the thick snow fall as Logan steps back, shaken from her compulsion and ready to run. 'Wait-' the Wolverine protests loudly. But she is instantly in his path. She is too fast for him. Despite knowing that she is the stronger of the two and seems just as undefeatable as he is, he growls at her. She smiles up at him and sits down at his feet, the snow not making a difference to her. In one swift motion, she grabs his hand and tugs him to the ground to be on her level.
"What do you want?" he asks her gruffly. "You want to drain me like him?"
She pats his hand and frowns. "No. Not you. I've never met a human like you. You smell different." She leans in and inhales, closing her eyes briefly.
Logan stiffens at her casual physical violation, at least when he does it he tries to be discreet. "You didn't answer my question."
Smiling, she exposes her teeth again, but the fangs are retracted. "Companionship."
Logan actually laughs, and he stands quickly. "Companionship? Why don't you just use your creepy mind control and find yourself someone else."
She is on her feet before he finishes straightening his body. "I would prefer your companionship."
Logan pauses as he looks down at her. "Are you a mutant?"
Her head cocks to the side. "I am Vampire. Is that what you call yourself, you with the claws? I know you are not human." She smirks, "We may look like humans, but we are far from it."
Logan studies her. He debates whether to offer his help or not. He knows she has to be insane to actually believe in Vampires, to the point of thinking she herself is one. She has to be a mutant, a socially deprived, closeted mutant. 'She isn't lying' the Wolverine disagrees, 'I believe her.'Logan mentally tunes out his other side, he doesn't need the Wolverine to be fucking losing it too. Maybe his instinct has finally run its course, Logan thinks sarcastically. He runs a hand through his hair quickly before opening his mouth.
"How long have you been on the run?" Logan asks her, failing miserably to hide his complete lack of trust.
"I am not running," the woman replies with a hollow laugh, resuming to twirl as fresh snow begins to fall again. "I stay hidden, for the good of all."
Logan watches as she brings her arms over her head in a delicate arc, through the snow he can see that she is on the very tip of her toe as her other leg moves upward, bending at the knee, continuing to stretch until it points straight toward the black night sky. The Wolverine perks up at the sight of her body stretching lithely, 'Never had a contortionist before…'
Nearly coughing aloud at the animal's comment, Logan forces himself to look at her face rather than her shapely leg stretched skyward. 'Just picture what she could do in our bed-' The Wolverine continues to taunt Logan, knowing that women and sex are secretly a weakness – one that the Wolverine rarely gets to experience the pleasures of.
The woman grasps her raised calf with one hand casually, as if holding onto a pole. 'She can grab my pole-' the animal offers with a snicker. Logan takes a moment to compose himself and get his thoughts in order as he lights his cigar, "You can keep being a murdering ballerina in the woods," he offers impatiently. She smiles at his description of her, causing the Wolverine to howl with a laugh inwardly. "Or I can take you to an institute, where you can get help."
The woman lowers her leg quickly at the word institute. "I am in no need of an asylum."
"A school," Logan rephrases, letting out a puff of heady smoke, "You know with students, teachers, books?"
"I have never been to a school," she says with a wry smile. "What is a teacher but a book read aloud to those too lazy to learn of their own accord?" She laughs at her own jibe, "Are they to teach me to read and write? Or to be governed and restrained by their rules and laws?"
'She's got you there,' the Wolverine comments smugly, clearly amused by her rebellious attitude, 'Maybe she'll use Cyclops as a chew toy…'
"Everyone has rules to follow," Logan says as he takes a step closer, his fingers hold the cigar and it indirectly points at her as he motions with his hand, "Looks like you could use a few too."
"Fiddlesticks," she scoffs, words sounding not quite modern. The term registers with the Wolverine, but leaves Logan leaning toward leaving her here.
Logan begins to turn on his heel, sending the animal into an uproar of protest. Not sure if he is saying it to her or the Wolverine, "I don't need this horse shit."
He stops abruptly when she is suddenly in his path. "What if I told you that I am in need of help, help that only you can provide?"
Logan leaves his cigar between his teeth as inhales the acrid smoke. "I'd say you're either looking for a good time tonight or that you came here with a motive." He leans in, "Either way, I'm not interested." Pushing past her, he adds over his shoulder, "Might want to get rid of that body."
Without batting an eye to his insinuation, Daria bites the corner of her lip lightly. "And if I told you I had something to offer you in return?" She calls to him, her voice carried with a howling wind.
She watches with satisfaction as his muscles tighten and his walking ceases. He turns sharply and moves deliberately until his frame towers over her. "What can you offer me, little girl?" Logan asks, his mouth forming a confident smirk around the cigar. The Wolverine wants to chuckle at his quip, but instinct tells him this is a trap.
The woman pulls the cigar from his mouth and flicks it into the deep snow where it dies off with a hiss. She pushes her hand against his chest, sending him into a tree across the clearing. Sauntering toward him as he rights his back into place, she smiles. "My name is Daria Nadezhda. You would do well to remember that, boy."
"Listen up, lady," Logan snarls, "I am not a fucking boy."
Daria laughs openly at his threat, "And I am not a little girl."
"What the fuck do you want from me?" Logan asks as she dances away from him, literally dancing to a song that she sings lightly under her breath.
"Such language," she says as she continues to spin through the snow, causing some of it to shower onto his jeans.
"How do you know me?" Logan asks, trying not to lose himself to the Wolverine. He keeps moving toward her as she continues spin. "What kind of trouble are you in?"
Daria ceases to spin, "Not my trouble, yours." She hums lightly, forcing herself on her tip toes with a graceful ease. "You see, I lost your brother's track sometime ago, and it is imperative that I find him."
Logan snorts now. "You've got the wrong man. I don't have a brother."
"For said price, I assure you that it is true," she says with a glint in her eye.
"I'm calling your bluff," Logan says, "You can still come with me for some help if you choose, but I'm not interested in your game." He begins to walk toward the exit of the clearing.
"I know you've lost your memories," Daria says to his back, she is instantly in front of him as he stops in his tracks. "If you agree to help me, I will grant you your memories."
"Again, I don't have a brother," Logan grounds out. "Second, I've had people literally inside my mind that couldn't pull out any memories. What do you have that they don't?"
Daria smiles at him, "Magic." He snorts and shakes his head. "Fucking loon."
"Whether you believe me or not, I assure you that you do have a brother." She smiles, her fangs now extended. "In fact, you and I have something very much in common."
Logan crosses his arm and smirks. "And that would be?"
"We both want your brother dead."
Logan turns on his heel and begins to walk toward the parking lot. He's laughing at the absurdity of the situation as he walks away from the strange woman. But she is at his side, matching him step for step. He tries to shoe her away, but she snarls. She grabs his hand in a crushing grip that causes his bones to grind and hurls him, causing him to crash into a tree. Before he can get up, she is looming over him. Her bare foot is on his throat. She smiles at him, exposing her fangs.
"I can prove it to you." She half whispers and leans in closely. "Have your mind reader verify my thoughts, my memories. And after you remember, you will be glad I have invited you to join my revenge."
She steps back and watches Logan as he cracks his neck and stands up. He continues to walk away, toward the parking lot. He reaches his motorcycle and turns, she stops inches away from him, searching his eyes for something he can't fathom.
"Let's get this straight," Logan says to her. "I'll take you to the professor to see if you're lying or not. But if you lay a finger on anyone at that school, I promise I will find a way to kill you. The moment I say leave, you leave, and don't come back. Am I clear?"
She laughs and salutes him mockingly. "Clear, Sir."
"Get on," Logan orders.
Climbing on behind him, she seems nervous, or as nervous as she can with a smile still curling her lips. She places her hands in her lap. Logan grunts and reaches back to grab her wrists, pulling her forward until she is flush against him. He secures her arms around his middle.
"What's your name again?" he asks over his shoulder.
"You may call me Daria," she replies pleasantly.
"Hold on, Daria," he says before revving the engine. The Wolverine is practically purring in Logan's mind, thrilled to have a companion, although a temporary one. 'We'll see about that,' The Wolverine growls, temporarily brought out of his hopeful thoughts.
Logan feels the woman's arms cinch around him as he speeds out of the snow covered lot, making it difficult to breath. He tries to tug gently at her hand to signal for her to loosen up, but can feel her shake her head against his back. Logan quietly reams himself for not having a helmet to give her. 'She doesn't need one,' the Wolverine pipes in with an impressed tone, 'Not breakable…' With a grunt of disgust, Logan pushes the Wolverine as far back as he can.
Daria holds against him and closes her eyes. As silly as it is, she doesn't want to see the trees and snow flashing by her. It isn't as if she isn't much faster on foot, but her speed is in the care of another now. She hides her face in the leather of Logan's broad back, centering herself by focusing on the smell of his jacket, of him. Her hair flies behind her in waves, shadows against the snowy night. Logan is silent as he maneuvers them over the snow covered roads that wind through the Canadian mountains.
Time passes smoothly. Daria is motionless as Logan pulls the motorcycle to a stop. She opens her eyes and finds them at the parking lot of a dilapidated motel. Nearly dawn, the sign flickers over their heads and the M of motel goes out completely. Logan offers a hand to steady Daria climbing off the seat, but she ignores it and stretches lazily, though not stiff from the cold or position. At the sight of her bare feet, he shakes his head before leading her into the office, grateful for the heat.
"You don't happen to plan on chipping in on expenses?" he grunts at her as he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket for his cash.
Daria moves past him without response, her hips sway with each step. Logan appreciates the view for a moment before catching himself, convincing himself she is doing it on purpose. She captures the gaze of the desk attendant as he looks up to greet them. His smile is blank as he looks at Daria, unable to look the other way. She waves her fingers at him obligingly.
"You will give us a room tonight free of charge." She leans in toward the desk clerk. "No one is to go into that room until tomorrow night. No maids. You never saw us."
The man is still smiling blankly as he hands Daria a bent key attached to a rubber number. Daria breaks his gaze and turns toward Logan; she smiles. "Let us go, Sir."
Logan struggles not to stare as Daria darts ahead of him, too fast to be human. 'Or Mutant,' The Wolverine adds as the human forces himself to pick up the pace. As he approaches the door to their temporary room, he sees the woman struggling with the key in the knob. He picks up her muttering to herself, and not in English. With a snarl, he watches as the key snaps in her hand. She chucks it at the ground and Logan doesn't miss it lodging itself deep in the cement floor.
"Allow me," Logan cuts in before she can resort to tearing down the door.
Daria grudgingly steps to the side and raises an eyebrow as he extends a claw and jams it into the door handle, turning it sharply and hearing the lock pop. He walks into the room first, instinctively doing a round and peering into the musty closet and equally grungy bathroom. Daria steps into the room, closing the door behind her. She turns to the blinds of the frosted windows and pulls them to a close. Without a glance at her, he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his boots off before lying back, sprawled against the scratchy comforter. He closes his eyes.
Daria begins to slip off her jacket, leaving it on the chair that is missing a leg. She follows with her t-shirt, a sports bra, and the jeans. Just as she is about to slip her underwear off, she hears Logan yelp. She turns quickly toward him, where he is standing, looking anywhere but at her.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Logan exclaims.
Daria straightens herself, unashamed. "I wish to bathe. Or do you oppose?"
He struggles not to stare at her full breasts, the Wolverine not making it any easier. 'Hips, legs, skin, skin, skin.' Since when does the Wolverine compliment women, he's usually trying to fuck over Logan with every woman in the past by berating him through each goddamn encounter.
"When's the last time you've socialized with people?" he manages to sputter.
Daria stands there unabashed. "I do not socialize."
Logan tosses his own jacket at her. "Well, here's a tip for you. People don't get naked in front of each other." The Wolverine snorts inwardly, 'Says the man who has alley fucked every whore north of the border…'
Daria frowns with confusion, her lip quivers slightly. "I suppose the world has changed," she recovers, moving toward the bathroom door, "Humans no longer appreciate the beauty of the body."
He coughs uncomfortably as the Wolverine makes lewd suggestions. "Just keep it covered up before you give someone a heart attack."
Daria shrugs and tosses his coat back at him. She proceeds to strip off her underwear and fling it with perfect aim at her pile of clothing on the chair across the room. She looks over her shoulder and smiles as Logan openly looks her body up and down before closing the bathroom door.
"That includes me!" Logan calls through the door, half hoping she doesn't stop.
But all he hears in response is her laughter and the sound of the shower running. Logan goes back to the bed and falls asleep within moments, despite the fact that he doesn't trust her farther than he can toss her – like the curb.
When Logan opens his eyes, he leans over and glances at the alarm clock screwed onto the night stand. It's already three in the afternoon. They've slept the day away. He looks around the room and sees no sign of Daria. Her clothes are gone. Moving his legs to hang off the side of the bed, he rolls his shoulders before getting to his feet. It takes three steps to reach the bathroom. He scratches the back of his neck as he knocks loudly on the door. No response.
He opens the door, only to find Daria sitting on the bathroom floor, her back leaning against the side of the rusty tub. She is fully dressed, not making a sound at Logan's entrance. He leans over and nudges her when he sees that her eyes are closed. Again, no response. Logan turns on the shower, still no reaction from the girl. 'Check for a pulse?' the Wolverine suggests, his voice on the edge of worry. Disgusted with the Wolverine, Logan undresses quickly and steps under the lukewarm water. Just as he is rinsing the shampoo from his hair, he hears laughter in his ear.
Logan's claws come out and he swipes blindly. She is still laughing nearby. He rinses the cheap hotel shampoo from his eyes and peeks from behind the curtain. Daria is perched on her heels on top of the closed toilet seat, watching him. Her eyes twinkle as she waves her fingers at him. He pulls the curtain closer to himself, but she only laughs more, pointing a finger. He looks down and sees he has shredded the curtain in his blind attack.
"Get out of here!" he shouts at her. "Privacy!"
She continues to laugh lightly as she saunters from the room. When Logan steps out of the bathroom, he is fully clothed. Daria waves at him casually from the rumpled bed. Crossing his arms stubbornly, he leans against the dented metal cabinet that hosts a small television.
"You are the one who chose to undress where I rested," Daria points out before he can open his mouth. "It has been years since I have seen a man, what a lovely treat for me," She winks at him.
"Years?" Logan asks, his eyebrow arching. "You don't look a day over twenty."
Daria shifts her weight to her other foot, "You should not judge a book by its cover. That is the saying, no?"
Choosing not to comment on her turn of phrase, he settles to grunt at her. "Let's go." He continues ignoring the Wolverine trying to worm his way out.
Daria peers out the window, eyeing the sky. It is grey and overcast, lightly snowing. She can see his motorcycle from where she stands; it is covered in a dusting from the morning's snowfall. She speeds past Logan as he heads down the icy steps with care, waiting for him at his vehicle.
"Can you try to control yourself?" he hisses at her as he begins to dust off the snow. "Not everyone is Mutant friendly."
"I am not a Mutant," she clarifies again as she climbs behind him, her hands moving to grip the sides of his jacket. Before he can start the engine, she touches his arm. "If the overcast disappears on our way, we must stop."
He glances at her with an amused smirk. "Vampire thing?" he asks sarcastically, still not taking her word.
Daria glares at him, but climbs barefoot behind him, gripping the sides of Logan's jacket. They ride all day without a stop and into the night. Daria glances occasionally at the glimpses of the moon she can catch through the miles of tall pine trees. She judges it is about 10pm or so when Logan finally cuts the engine in front of a large stone mansion on immaculately kept grounds.
Let Cyclops fill the tank and put it in the garage, Logan thinks to himself with a sense of grim satisfaction. He climbs off the bike and doesn't wait for Daria as he moves toward the front doors. He glances over his shoulder and she is suddenly at his side, her hand slipping to grasp the crook of his elbow, as if he's a fucking gentleman. He shakes his head to himself.
"Never going to get used to that," he says to her, opening the door and stepping inside. 'Her speed or being fearless of us?' The Wolverine taunts with a snicker.
But her hand pulls him to a halt effortlessly, Daria doesn't follow him. She stops at the threshold, not budging and inch into the mansion.
"You have to invite me in," Daria says sullenly, her laughter lifeless. "It has been a quite some time since I have required someone to invite me in."
Logan smirks, vaguely remembering Rogue going on about some vampire show and all of the rules when she first came to the mansion. "Do I need to say anything fancy, or…"
Daria is not amused. She snarls at him, fangs exposed.
He laughs, unafraid, though he probably should be. "Come in."
Logan observes her closely as she steps through the doorway, allowing the Wolverine a little more leeway incase she tries to feed on some poor "superhero" in the making. Her bare feet pad soundlessly on the hard wood floors. Daria peers around the next doorway like a caged animal, literally sniffing out her new environment. 'Good, smart…' The Wolverine approves, nearly causing the hair on Logan's neck to bristle from annoyance. Most of the students are already in their rooms for the night and the mansion is quiet.
'Welcome back, Logan,' Professor Xavier's voice greets him inside his mind. Logan tries to hide his grimace, but he can hear the Professor chuckling lightly. 'Please come to my office, I wish to meet your visitor.' The Wolverine growls at the underlying threat, knowing full well that Wheels can hear him, unlike anyone else in this damn place.
Logan jerks his hand toward himself impatiently, motioning for her to follow him. She is silent as she trails him down the hallway, practically stepping on his heels. Stopping at a blank wall, part of the wall gives way to the side, causing Daria to jump. Logan catches her eyes flash for a split moment as she jumped, reminding him of a cat whose had its tail stepped on. She watches as he steps into the small white room, copying his direction, she presses herself against the wall as the door slide shuts, trapping them. As the elevator begins to move upward, Daria clenches her hands into fists and her eyes close.
"I hate these moving objects," Daria says through clenched teeth, "the fast ones that cut through the forests now, the machines flying in the sky. Humans should not have made them. It is against nature."
But as the elevator stops, Daria is out on the solid floor before the sliding door is completely open. Logan steps past her, not waiting to she if she recovers from her brief shuddering. They end up walking into Xavier's office simultaneously, her matching him stride for stride. The professor is awake, waiting for them.
"Welcome Daria," the professor says as he approaches her, having already picked her name from Logan's mind when they arrived. Not an ounce of her body language indicates surprise as he greets her by name. "Logan. What can I assist you with this evening?"
'Fucking pleasantries? He already sees her as a threat!' The Wolverine begins to rant mercilessly. Logan leans against the wall casually even as he sees the Professor's eyes steel over at hearing the Wolverine's insults. "I need to know if what she says is the truth."
Xavier motions toward Daria. "Please, have a seat." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Is this of your own free will?" The Wolverine snarls inside Logan's head, 'See, judging us like always. Just like with the runaway…' He closes his eyes for a moment. "I sense you are gifted."
Logan barely composes himself from snorting as Xavier says this. "She claims she is a vampire."
Daria's eyes are practically shooting daggers at him, but he catches a playful glint in her look as well. "I am a vampire. I have been for quite some time."
Xavier nods, if he doubts her, he has the best poker face Logan has ever seen. "May I ask, how long?"
Daria brings a finger to her lips as she ponders for a moment. "I was made Vampire at about 1100AD, give or take a few years."
Logan's jaw nearly drops in disbelief at her response. 'At least she's not jailbait,' the Wolverine pipes in with a chuckle as an image of her naked flashes in Logan's mind.
"Logan wishes for me to confirm the truth of your thoughts," Xavier says evenly to Daria, interrupting Logan's inner dialogue. "Is this acceptable to you?"
Daria forces herself to smile, though she'd rather be draining another poor soul. "I am the one who suggested it."
Xavier extends his hand to her, hoping that maybe he will be able to read her with the assistance of a physical touch. Reluctantly, Daria places her hand in his. Surprising her, he does well hiding his reaction to her cool skin. He closes his eyes. Daria watches him with a new curiosity. Even with his eyes shut, she can see that the professor is struggling with reading her. He stops after only a few moments.
"It seems," Xavier says with a frown, "That I will need more time to explore your thoughts. You have a natural barrier that I cannot read past. Tomorrow, when it is not so late." He proceeds to return to behind his desk. "Goodnight."
Daria smiles graciously before she walks outside the office. Logan walks past her stiffly, heading up a large staircase. Without hesitation, she is on his heels. He opens a door in the hallway at the top of the stairs and stops abruptly.
"I don't want to wake Storm to find you a room." Logan says gruffly to her. "You can have mine for the night. I'll come get you in the morning."
He steps away from the open door and watches Daria walk in. She opens her mouth to speak, but he shakes his head and quickly walks away. Hearing his steps down the stairs and all the way to the front door that shuts with a resounding slam, Daria closes the door softly.
Looking out of the window at the moon, she backs up until her legs hit the edge of the bed. She sits down lightly. The moon is nearly full and she stares at it a moment longer before she closes the drapes and breathes out experimentally in the near complete darkness. On the neatly made bed, she lies back on the cushioned material. Her head hits the pillow and she is engulfed by Logan's scent. She turns her head and inhales deeply. She smells pine, cigar smoke, and a wild scent that she simply cannot identify.
Daria closes her eyes and continues to take deep breaths of Logan's scent. She replays memories of running between the pines, running toward the wild scent that belongs to a single creature.
A/N: Here is a friendly reminder to please review!