AN: This is what happens when I force my plot bunnies to run; stuff that is completly made up of OCs. Urgh. Well, enjoy I suppose.
Fandom: X-men
Synopsis: Snippets of a larger fan fiction I am working on with the story of Hecate... who is my OC in an XMen RPG here on this shows little pieces of her interaction with the villain I created: the Shadow Man aka Christian Moori.
Warnings: OC death
Soundtrack: 'Without You' by Breaking Benjamin; listened to this on repeat as I wrote this.
She remembers the first time they met: a strange noise woke her, had she been sleep walking again? Xela finds herself standing in the hallways of the Institute and someone is going through the files in a room.
"Stop!" She calls out, feeling foolish the moment she does.
The woman's face is a flurry of emotion as she turns to face her: shock, horror, annoyance, and then… triumph. "Well, looks like you aren't going to stop me."
She's looking at someone over Xela's shoulder. The young mutant whirls and she finds herself staring up into a pair of yellow eyes. A man his standing there, his lips pulled back in a wolfish grin his messy brown hair hanging in his face. He's wearing all black so me blends into the darkness, he's even wearing black gloves so that in the dark hallway, it looks as though he's just a floating head.
Xela jumps back a few steps and focuses her power, trying to pull a spirit, any spirit towards her. But, no one answers her call, yet.
The man stares at her for a moment before letting out a low laugh, "No dead shall answer your call tonight little necro."
The hall lightens a little as the moon slides out from behind the clouds, silver light pouring through the windows. The man grasps something in the air and slashes his arm. The pain is incredible, like she's been cut in half. Xela screams as she falls to the floor, arms clutched around her middle, which is strangely still in one piece. Her eyes fall upon the wall beside her, their shadows cast against the white painted wood by the moonlight. And she can see a sword clutched in the hand of the man standing in front of her, not in his actual hand, but in the hand of his shadow.
Whimpering in pain she tries to get up and hears his laugh again, "So just one hit isn't enough to take you down?"
"G-guess not." She's almost brave, but her knees are shaking from the pain. Despite this, she swears his lips almost twitch into a smile. But before either of them could move again, the alarm goes off as Nightengale throws open the window nearby, "Shadow Man!"
She calls, "We have to go."
The Shadow Man's yellow eyes glimmer with disappointment as he looks at her one more time before melting into the shadows, "I'll see you again, my little friend."
And, much later, when she makes her choice… Hiccupping and gasping she leans against the cold stone wall, the tears running down her face feel so hot it is as though they are burning her flesh. Christ had pulled her into the shadows, screaming and bleeding, after the battle. Her pleas for forgiveness silenced in the darkness and they'd come out in the basement of the stronghold. Upon arriving her knees had given out and she did what she'd promised never to do in front of him again; cry. She weeps there, crouching in the corner like a frightened child, trapped at last by the monster under the bed. Even though, one monster has just been vanquished, another stands before her. He crouches down, extending his hand, waiting patiently.
"Hecate."
She knows she's supposed to stop crying, get up and go with him, but she can't. She can't. She feels disgusting, filthy, and rotten, like a freak. Once again… she feels like a freak. That thing, that demon, had been bonded to her, living off her energy and stealing from those around her. And she had been too weak to see it; learning to raise all those corpses had only made the demon stronger, and it was almost too late before she realized that 'ghost' was not her brother. Because she couldn't see she'd nearly gotten everyone she cared about killed, well, everyone she used to care about killed. There was no way that she could go back to them now, not when hell itself had almost been unleashed upon the formerly beloved Xavier Institute with her help.
"Get up."
There was no command in his tone, and her miss-matched eyes look over at him, a question flickering there in the windows to her soul. And slowly, she reaches out, fingers trembling, to grasp his larger hand. There is a smile on his lips, and she's so distracted by his next words that she misses the dark triumph in his voice as he replies to the unspoken query.
"You have a home with us."
From that moment on Xela Jorden… no Xela Stark was dead. She was engulfed in darkness and fear and sorrow. In her place was the strong, fearless and dangerous Hecate: the necromancer.
Now, as she looked down into his yellow eyes she felt nothing but revulsion. He's gasping and chocking on his own blood below her, the dagger he'd just tried to use on her buried in his belly. She can feel the blood staining her clothes where she was straddling him and his fingers scramble over his body, trying to staunch the bleeding. They both know it is too late.
In her heart there is a twinge of regret, but deep down this must be done, other wise she will never be free of him. He will always be able to lure her back into the shadows with the nature of her mutation. A Necromancer… fated to go crazy and die, driven mad by the voices of the dead and the damned. She leans down, feeling more liberated than ever before, her lips brushing his ear; "I forgive you, and I'll forget you, the end."
She stands, his lips are trembling, trying to snarl some threat, or beg or promise something, but there is nothing that can save him now.
"Good-bye Christian."
Then, she is gone… the others meet her at the entrance to the strong hold and she smiles at their approaching figures with tears in her eyes. And, in one swift move, unclasps the decorative sleeve of her costume and plunges the needle into her arm. The Cure soaring through her veins, a smile ghosting on her lips as she crumples to the ground. For the first time in her life she is free of the shadows in her life… everything is light.
AN: I know this is interaction between two OCs in three fairly short scenes, but let me know what you think of the way I write them. Then again... I don't think I gave you much to work on. Oh well, just thought I should upload SOMETHING since I haven't done one of my ACTUAL stories in forever. Thanks for reading.
Tora