Ramblings and disclaimers: Though I desperately wish for my own fuzzy elf, this one is not mine, he belongs to Kitty and Kitty or any of the other x-members in my stories belong to marvel. All facts regarding classes and other subtleties are from the profiles released by marvel. The song "Deadliner" belongs to the genius Gary Numan. Enjoy, and PLEASE no flaming, it's possible to offer criticism without breaking my itsy bitsy self-esteem. Thanks and on with the fic!!!…
So I close my eyes and drift into sleep,
But something is here,
In the dark, in the dream.
Like a cruel wind clutching my heart,
I feel more than I see,
Like a clue to a nightmare that I
Can't believe.
Then it touches me and I try to scream,
And a thought tears me inside.
And I will do anything,
Anything, you understand?
Just to wake up.
Running With Shadows
It was surprisingly bright out for the unholier hours of the night. Not that this concerned the boy running as fast as his four limbs could move him, though Kurt Wagner did realize it made it much easier for him to navigate. Of course, the full moon also made it easier for his pursuers to track him.
Kurt cursed softly in his native language as a jagged branch re-opened the three day old gash that had just begun to heal on his calf. In an attempt to stifle his cry of pain his lower lip darkened with blood as his fangs punctured it. This didn't matter though; a scream could cost him dearly.
His chest ached, seeming to shrink with each rapid cycle of breath-in / breathe-out and naturally cold night air felt like searing icicles inside his nostrils and throat. His entire body was as one exposed nerve, one second the pain was excruciating and with the next pulse it was a dull ache, but it was never dulled enough to offer any chance of relief. Currently the pain was hardly a priority, however the pain that would result should he stop was. So he kept running. Willing himself to breathe, taxing his body to it's limits and straining to see, while blinking away tears from the lashing winds.
Branches swung towards his face, but he managed to evade the worst of them. He lost the most ground leaping over a fallen trunk and snagging his tail on some thorny foliage in the process. While it only took seconds to free, it gave his pursuers a chance to put an extremely small distance between them.
Kurt recovered quickly as his overworked body would allow and took off at an unforgiving speed. It wasn't until several moments later that his mind accepted the observations of his body. His feet registered the semi-smooth cobble stone rather than twigs and soft dirt and his peripheral sight revealed buildings instead of tree trunks. However, his elfin ears reminded him that he was still being chased. He'd hoped when he turned it would offer a way to lose them, but as he swiveled his gaze from the darkness to the torchlights behind him he realized it was unlikely. Maybe it was for the best he'd turned; he couldn't have evaded the wall had he seen it anyway.
"Neeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiin!…"
Kurt just dropped there onto his one good knee and clutched the stones with his three fingered hands. How could this be? It wasn't fair, he was so tired, and it was just too much. Why did they hate him so? Why did they always have to hate him? He hadn't meant any harm in taking the bread, he was hungry and he'd even left the money for it on the vendor's counter. His hand was only visible for an instant. But he'd never meant any harm now had he? And an instant was all it took for someone to realize.
An instant, for the wind to blow and shift his cloak enough to reveal what he was. An instant and his tail would twitch the wrong way. An instant, for someone to try and see the beggar's face and succeed. An instant, before the one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally cast him to his mother nature's care. Except, even mother nature couldn't love this freakish son, and she too cast him away, rarely offering him shelter from the villagers when they found him out.
Kurt crouched and let the fight ebb out of him. He'd tried, for so long and he'd run so far every time, but as with the cliché no matter how far you run you'll never escape yourself. Yellow eyes glowed weakly, narrowing at the piercing torchlight, by which he could make out the people's clunky forms and the glints off the tips of the farmers' pitchforks. Though he wanted to, his weary body wouldn't shut out their shouts:
"Freak!" "Demon!" "The devil's own it is!" "Destroy it!" "Monster!"
Kurt Wagner couldn't even shut them out completely when he woke moments later. They echoed around him as he shakily peeled the sheets from his sweat-matted fur. The blurry glow of the digital numbers indicated to him there was still a half-hour before he needed to get ready for school.
All information in regards to Nightcrawler's past comes from the original animated series (and one of my fav episodes Gambit and Nightcrawler in the same episode…what could be better?!) and my limited knowledge of his roles in the comic books. Right now it's just kind of a reflective piece on Kurt's past, but if I don't get too busy I'm thinking of continuing it. Hope you enjoyed…best wishes to all…~~*~~