Bestial
Rating For Disturbing imagery and themes
Warnings: See rating,
Spoilers: ones thLook out. There's two. I'd tell you which ones they are… But that'd be considered a spoiler!
Pairings: Hints of Ororo/Kurtness…. No one for Mort, unfortunately.
Summery: Mortimer Toynbee is fighting a deadly demon - Himself… And with the assistance of the most unlikely mutant; Ororo Munro. But will unwanted emotions cloud her mind when she is called to make the ultimate decision?
"How is it today, Mortimer?"
"… It is good"
"Who is in control today?"
"…"
"Who is in control today, Mortimer?'
"Mortimer is in control today."
"Good…"
A smile, beautiful and angelic… Perfect, even.
"Do you want to talk today?"
A pair of golden eyes, tormented, tortured, gazed fearfully at thin air.
"Mortimer, look at me."
The eyes drifted up to meet those of pure blue. Their weariness. Their wariness. The dulled pleading in
them; 'Don't be mad', was enough to break her heart.
"Would you like to talk today?"
He shook his head wearily averting his eyes from hers once again.
She frowned, staring at him through the glass looking into his cell.
"Would you like to go on a walk?"
His eyes shot back up to meet hers, the shy delight of a child evident in the liquid black and swirling gold.
"Is that a yes?"
The greenhouse.
It had been her sanctuary for years, sometimes the only place she could find solitude. As a result,
it was the only place now where the professor would allow her to take Mortimer on their excursions. The
lush greenery, heat induced moisture, and humid temperatures had created a compatible atmosphere for the
sensitive amphibianoid, enough so that he even chanced a few casual words to her now and then.
She responded heartily, linking her arm into his and smiling gently. There had been a time when his words
had been bold and witty… Refreshing in a way. Now his dialect was so simple…. She felt anger stir deep
within her chest. She turned the temptation away.
The acrid smell of sulfur assaulted her nostrils - A scent that might have offended other, but she
found familiar and even went as far as to welcome it…. She located the glowing eyes of her elf-eared lover
in seconds, giving him a 'shame on you' glare when Mortimer wasn't looking. Kurt hadn't approved of
Ororo's caring for the x-assassin from the beginning, and checked up on the two on a regular basis during
their sessions.
She sighed now, turning away from the teleporting mutant to sadly observe the ambling green man.
There had been a time when he would have sensed the teleporter's presence in an instant. He would have
gauged her emotions, detected the changes in her breath, her heart rate. She winced, blotting away the
memories of what had caused all that to change. It wasn't worth it.
"Come on, Mortimer…. It's time to go back inside." He was crouching on the ground, studying a
fern leaf, running his fingers over the delicate stem carefully. He was deaf to her words, fascination
abounding over all else. She realized, only too late, the species of the plant he was handling, and reached
out in warning. Mortimer's hand jerked away, and he curled into himself with a yelp of surprise and pain.
Ororo crouched beside him, working his hand away from his chest to peer at the wound that the thorn had
left.
"It hurt me," he stated in shock, staring accusingly at the hybrid fern plant. "It hurt me."
"Yes, Mortimer. It hurt you. Didn't I tell you not to touch the plants you don't know?"
He looked away, a child's stubborn defiance showing in the pooch of his lower lip and the thrust of his chin.
She repeated herself. "Didn't I tell you not to touch the plants you don't know?" He looked up to meet her
gaze once again, submitting instantly, like a youth to his mother. "I'm sorry…."
The stern frown on her lips faded instantly, and she patted his hand comfortingly. "It's okay." He
nodded sharply, repeatedly, assured by her friendly tones. She pulled him to his feet. "Let's go."
Flash back
Three years ago, she had stared at this same man through eyes of hellish opaque, observing the
same hatred on his sallow face for her as she harbored for him.
Thirty six months ago, she had set the lighting to him, watched in satisfaction as he tumbled
lifelessly away.
One thousand and ninety five days ago, approximately, a pair of drunks had pulled him from the
wrath of the sea. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.
End Flash Back
So... What do you think? Have you figured out what's up with Mort? Should I Terminate this? I desperately need a Beta reader for the rest of the story. My finding one directly affects my continuing in this...
Review! So commands the LAVA SPEWING RED RUBBER DUCK!