Storm's Sentiment
-=+=+=>> Wishing Well =+=+=-
Chapter 3: Storm's Sentiment

I'd like to say to the people who have read this story and were (maybe) waiting impatiently for the third installment that I am sorry it took so long, and that the rumours of my untimely demise were gravely exagerated. ;-) In fact, let it be known I fully intend to add a fourth, fifth and sixth chapter to this story and that they are more or less plotted already, so all that's left is for me to find time and do it. Thanks for reading, it wouldn't be the same without you.

Disclaimer: I'm the owner of the X-men. Seriously now, I don't own them, and if I don't no one should. Nonetheless, the latest news is that a big business called Marvel owns them. If they ask, I just temporarily borrowed them. That being said, "Faye" and the storyline/plot is mine.

This chapter gets a Reader's Discretion Advised for sillyness and deglamourisation of some of the X-males.


Scott and Jean had gone on a trip together. Remy, recently back from some excursion, had snickered at the idea and called it the honeymoon rehearsal. It had made her smile. Logan had not come back and she was in charge in the meantime. Truly she had accepted to be a leader only because others had stressed she was the best for the task. If not for that, she would not want the responsibility. She was not like Scott who relished shouldering the burden of others. She would do it out of duty. She loved them all, but sometimes she would rather not have to behave like their mother.

In her heart, she did not feel like an old woman, so why they treated her that way was beyond her. She knew that she intimidated a lot of people, mutants included. Her powers touched the supernatural and were not quite easily understood. Yet the X-men were her people now, her family and they treated her as if she was either too old to be a friend or too young to be on equal status. They knew her strenghts and her vulnerabilities and were in awe of both.

She let herself fall back on her bed and let out a laugh she was quite sure no one would have expected to come from her mouth. Maybe they did not know her as well as they thought they did. She had always carried out her obligations but that was because she had never felt there was a real choice. She missed having fun and letting go as much as her powers would let her.


A fairy sat on the roof and entertained wicked thoughts about Scott Summers and Logan. Though she was innocent of any mischief, Jean Grey soon to be Jean Summers was included in the pack. She felt trapped by Logan's strategem of hiding the ring. At long last she had been free of both him and Scott, but she was getting nervous about the woman whose jewel box now contained the cursed ring.

At least this mansion was a nice place for her to 'inhabit'. It did not physically matter whether she had a roof on her head or not, but she preferred beauty in accomodations. And at least, she did not have to do anything truly repellent so far. But of course everytime she had to use her essence to satisfy a demand, the servitude to the ring chafed more. It had always been the same but she was increasingly unable to see it differently than slavery.

The fact that her kin had given up on her long ago also rankled. She had not despaired even then, but it was difficult to hope now that humankind had evolved the way it had.


Watering plants had always been a soothing way to keep her temper. Her collection comprised beautiful orchids, prosperous ferns, potted palms, cacti. Remy sometimes teased her about what he called her greenhouse. And called her Stormy after the teasing, and he knew she hated that. She could forgive him for that, though she would never admit it. Remy, was the only one who sometimes treated her as a friend.

Even that was limited. Sometimes she felt alienated from the group and it seemed to her, the plants had more understanding of her than all her teammates put together. She always felt better, more normal, whatever that might be, after she cared for them. They would let her care for them without assuming anything, unlike the X-men or the Morlocks. Of course, that was because they were just plants. It warmed her heart nonetheless.

She had a little violet plant in a pot. Now violets were not quite her favourite flowers. No one went to the florist to buy a bouquet full of violets of all flowers. They were so common and small. If you had a patch of grass somewhere you would get violets. Kitty had given the pot to her not so long ago as a visiting gift. She had thought the gift was kind but uninspired, but little by little, the violet had grown on her. It required a minimum of fussing and bravely blossomed throughout the year. Though she enjoyed her more complicated plants, it was her little violet that touched her heart most often.

She longed for simplicity too. Jean and Scott were going to get married, and she wished she could have a life like theirs. They were special just like her, but they also had a private life of their own, just like normal, simple people.

But most of all she wished for someone special to connect to just as she felt her little violet trying to reach out to her heart. She wished for someone to talk to right now.


The fay creature had no choice and particularly she had no time for adjusting the scene. She popped in the room and appeared to the woman known as Storm. Fortunately the composed woman was not frightened out of her wits when she saw a strange looking female where there was none a second before. That she could see, calm did not preclude curiousity in Ororo Munro.

"Who are you?" she immediately asked.

Children of Oberon never knew just how they appeared to humans, especially not when they had not been able to concentrate on making the physical perception of their magical selves. But at the very least she had a good idea she had not appeared as a human would. And the woman asked... So she told her her true name.

"I am Mélusine." she replied. "It is in my power to make wishes come true." But then something strange happened that surprised the small fairy. Storm did not greedily jump at the chance to ask for more wishes. But instead she commiserated.

"It must be a difficult power to control." Ororo said with a wistful look.

"You sound as though you know what you are talking about." Mélusine answered quickly, knowing full well that the African Goddess knew that the greater the power the greater the responsibility, but wanting to grant her wish. Wishes did not always required magic to come true.

"I do." The white-haired woman sighed. Mélusine sighed in turn like someone who knows she is about to do something she might regret.

"You could always make a wish." She had the feeling this was a bad idea. The opening, at best, made her vulnerable in a way the mortal woman before her could not understand. At worst, who knew... That was her curse.

"But, I have nothing to wish for. I live a meaningful life, embarking on perilous missions with people who are as dear to me as family to save the whole of humanity." Storm was adamant and looked proud. Mélusine looked at her strangely.

"It looks as though you don't have fun very often." The little fairy offered a tentative smile, but Storm looked shocked that someone could have known so quickly. "Maybe you should fix that before trying to do something else, it might just be the solution to your situation."

"How could I? No one here looks at me twice outside of the missions." The regal woman looked somewhat dejected. She looked away, ashamed at her own admission. In her own eyes, the second leader of the X-men had neither of the qualities that made the men chase after Rogue, Jean or Betty. Jean never even had to work at it to have men fighting over her, whereas she was ignored. The chidlike creature seemed to understand her thoughts because she said,

"Hmm, hmm, I see, you wish the opposite sex would react to you. It truly is not as uncommon as it sounds you know." She added gently. "I can make them all love you if that's what you want. It would be, ah, a piece of cake" A glimmer of amusement at the folly of mortals shone in her eyes. "But I think I don't have to do that, you could make them fall in love on your own." She paused, "But it would be easier if you tried to have fun, and at least, if that did not work, you would have a good time."

"Fun? I don't know... I don't think I remember." Ororo seemed surprised to hear herself admitting she had had no fun in a long while. It was so easy for the others. They seemed to derive fun from whatever activity they were engaging at the time. She even had to wonder if she had ever known what fun was. She certainly could not recall the woohoo kind of fun her partners seemed to enjoy so freely. "They all have friends, at least, they all at least have a special friend. I do not." The ageless woman spoke as if startled by her own revelation.

"You have er... the one with the red eyes. You do find him endearing."

"That is true, but Remy is secretive and most of the time he is absorbed with his own problems or his tentative lovelife. Not that I can blame him. Also, he does not see me as a woman, he keeps seeing the little pickpocket I was." She was trying very hard not to lose her cool dignity but the weather outside had gone from a sunny spring day to a lackluster cloudy sky.

Mélusine could feel the unintentional working of the weather in a way that was alien to her kind. Her ability was truly wondrous, and fortunate. She would be able to understand what the other woman left unsaid from the magical reading of the weather surrounding them. Right now, any child of Oberon would have been able to detect a massive wave of melancholy. And this would not do the mortal any good.

"Do not despair. Very soon you will have an opportunity and I think if you want it, you can get reacquainted with fun."

The woman opened her mouth to ask clarifications, but the fairy raised her hand and silenced her with laughing eyes. "Shhhhh... ! Just wait and see." Before the sound of her words muted she had dissolved as if into ether.

That left only a sad, perplexed Storm into her room, trying not to succomb to self-pity.


Being a fairy godmother was not given to every fairy. Mélusine knew the last one had retired a long time ago and now it just was an outdated custom. Most of her kind would never have accepted anyway, either dismissing it as unsignificant or tedious. But she thought it was a special talent. One she would have dismissed a thousand years ago, but things had changed, and this was after all temporary. It was not as if she had truly been asked at the mortal's birth.

She had her geas to think of, but it would be easily circumscribed in this matter. Careful planning would ensure what she had in mind was not interference. She just had to revolve around what the woman had wished. She had wished for someone like her violet to be her friend. This could work after all.


Storm felt the need to flee the house and it was terribly easy for her to do so. It had been harder to fight with her emotions and keep the weather contained to a tame rain drizzle. But that's what she did, whatever was needed for the comfort of others. She really hated to feel this way. Why could she not feel good about it anymore? It was what everyone said made life meaningful that she had devoted her existence to. Nevertheless, she felt as though if she disappeared tomorrow her friends would only notice the absence of wind.

The girl had said she should try to have fun, but the prospect was frightening. To have fun, she would have to let go, at least partially, of the careful control she held over her emotions. She remembered what happened the last time she had failed to control her temper. Her power was as destructive as it could be helpful. Even controlled, she mused, it destroys. That which is first destroyed by my control is my personality.

There must be a way. Even Rogue found a way to remain herself while minimising the side-effects of her terrible power.


During this time, a small portion of the world's magic was very busy trying to devise ways to help a special person. She did not really want to meddle in romantic affairs unless there was no choice. For one thing, romancing mortals was complex and could turn out very differently from what had been intended in the first place. Also, it seemed to her, the woman was not quite ready. It was impossible for someone unable to have fun to fall in love. Amorous feelings required a loss of control far deeper than enjoying the moment.

She needed a friend, a human type, mutant, X-Men friend. One who would relate to her, who would push her to giggle, and one who would challenge the others' view of their second in command. Besides, she had almost wished for her violet to be human. It could perhaps work.

Thy sight pleases, little plant
Be not thyself but a mutant
As true a friend thou shall be
And to bring merriment to see.

This had to be a good idea.


When Ororo could not find her lovely potted violet, she had waited patiently for Bobby's prank to reveal itself. One day, Two days, she thought he must have something elaborate in mind. After five days she made an unseen Mélusine proud when she almost raised a stink about what had become of the plant. Hank protested politely, Remy looked insulted and skulked away, Rogue lilted a very southernly mahgawd, Logan said nothing, Bishop promised he would keep an eye open on his next round and Bobby, for the first time she had known him, looked her straight in the eye with all due innocence and swore he did not do it this time. No one had seen the missing plant.

A week later, everyone but Storm, had forgotten about the incident. So no one connected the appearance of a slender young mutant on the doorstep of the mansion with the disappeared violet. Bishop had opened the door and her appearance immediately elicited a response from him. Rather than barking questions at her as he would of any strangers, he let her in and invited her to sit down. Soon the whole team was coming to meet the young woman who presented herself as Violada Mendoza-Montoya.

She was a medium height woman, with dark purple hair that could pass as black unless you looked at it very closely. She had the magnolia skin tone that had been associated with the classical spanish beauties by envious european ladies. And she had dark green eyes. Soon the whole team, Storm, Hank, and Bishop included, was under the charm of the spanish lady. They even forgot to wonder why she had come.

She graciously volunteered the information. She too was a mutant. Before they could all ask what her special power was. She disclosed that she had a way with odours, but not just body odour. She laughed in a tone that was earthy and generous. She lowered her head in playful mock shyness and admitted she could just about charm the socks off anyone. Or put them all to sleep, she added in a thoughtful tone.

Not so oddly, given her charming personality and power of persuation, she was almost immediately accepted in the mansion and the first impression she had made had been a proof of her powers. Without much delay she was put to the test in the danger room where more dangerous lethal skills were demonstrated. When she made thirthy angry Friends of Humanity members fall to the floor gagging, Bishop, who was monitoring the exercise, was utterly convinced.


Storm was another matter though. She was always good to people, even people she might be disinclined to immediately befriend. Violada was no exception. But Ororo Munroe was also a bit afraid that Violada projected with her power the way she wanted others to respond to her, that she influenced her natural reaction. What she really wanted was a good reason to trust her. As for befriending her, that was a whole another matter which she was not accustomed to.

Ororo had an exotic fern, very rare fern. Of course she had been unable to resist pulling just a tiny shoot from the Savage Land in memory of events she could not otherwise remember without discomfort. She had been very careful with it, be it on board the jet, or in the mansion where she had herself quarantined the tiny plant. She was aware it was a risk and that it might have been ecologically unsafe, but she so rarely acted without afterthought, that sometimes she was ready to go to extreme lengths to indulge a whim.

She had nursed the plant like a baby. Like a newborn to new parents, it had puzzled her as to what was the best way to care for her latest arrival. But at last, it had thrived since and had become a luxuriant patch of green in her personal quarters. It had also become the secret embodiement of her unruly inner self.

Of late though, it had not prospered as she had come to expect. The plant had slowed its growth, but that was at first. Then, eventually, it had stopped growing at all. Now the leaves were drying and turning brown as though the fern was simply drying up. She had given it water more often, she had checked for parasites. Nothing had worked. It was wiltering before her very eyes, and she was powerless to prevent it.

She had had no one to really talk to about this matter that was so dear to her heart. But she was finally at her wit's end, and she really needed to vent her frustration before everyone suffered the inescapable consequences in the form of a tornado. Too bad there was Stanley Cup final going on and nearly everyone in the mansion was watching avidly as the New York Rangers had it out with the Vancouver Canucks.
When she told them there was something wrong with one of her plants and she could not find out what seemed to be the mattter, no one registered the faint hint of panic in her normally calm voice. After all, Ororo was just as reliable as Scott. She would be there for them tomorrow no matter what. But the Stanley Cup might not. In fact they were not really hearing her.

Only Violada remained uninterested by the hockey frenzy. When she got up and said she might be able to help, the white haired woman thought the pleasant newcomer might just be too bored not to jump on any distraction. She seemed to take an interest though, and immediately asked what sort of plant the patient was and Ororo immediately felt reassured, that regardless of Violada's competence, at least she would not be alone to bear witness to a vital part of her life.

The spanish woman cooed strangely when she saw the strange fern like she would have to a baby. Storm could not prevent a mental note about the sillyness of the woman, but she could not help feel comforted by the genuine interest she noticed in the unintelligible words, when before she had wondered if Violada cared at all. Slender magnolia hands took the leaves between her fingers, and prodded the dirt in the pot. She hummed, very much like Hank did when he was hard at work on a project especially dear to his heart.

"Is old, this plant... Older than they have where I come from." She wrinkled her forehead, deep in reminiscence. "No, I have not seen like it. But I know what is wrong." She smiled widely.

Gone was the mask of icy calm on Storm's face, she was hanging to the words of the earthy woman before her. Eagerness poured through every pore of her skin. "What is the matter? Tell me!".

"Is grown up," Violada pointed to the pot, "the air and the earth, is not good no more." She paused as if searching for words. Storm assumed she was trying to find an english equivalent to a spanish word. But the prim woman took her hand and hauled her outside of the room, away from the fern and all the way down to the door. Then she led outside and foraged places, still holding on to a confused goddess's hand.

"I look for the thing your plant needs." the smaller woman explained. After a while, not finding it and in seeming frustration, she moved to the patio, and her face brightened. She let go of Ororo's hand and stood in front of a small charcoal grill. "This! Your plant needs this." and she pointed to the grill.

"My plant needs barbecue?" The look on the woman known as serenity personified was priceless.

"No, no, it needs what there is in the small black ... rocks." And she nodded and smiled eagerly to carry her point across to the other woman, waiting for a glimmer of understanding to flash in her eyes.

"Charcoal..." Storm mused, "charcoal, black, fuel... " obviously, something clicked in her mind. "Carbon! That's it. Everything is bigger and more primitive in Savage Land. Plants also are. Ferns are not just moss there, they need more fuel. The air does not contain enough carbon dioxide, it should get more carbon." She smiled and grabbed new charcoil from the bag. "Come with me, Violada, you are a lifesaver."

With a little help from Hank, an adequate apparatus was assembled and put to use on Ororo's savage fern. And she felt better than she had since she had lost her little potted violet.


Eventually, the fern survived and thrived once more. As it prospered so did a friendship between the two opposite women. Ororo, stern and pondered, and Violada, prim and spontaneous found a middle ground and kept meeting there. In a few days only, Violada had talked, and listened, more to the dignified X-Men than most of her teammates had. Ororo had confided things to the easy-mannered girl that she had never even considered worth coining as confidence matter. She had surprised herself in doing so, and it kept surprising her how good it was to talk with someone and say nothing earth shattering.

One of the big conversation topics with Vi, (as she had come to be nicknamed to the mansion's inhabitants) not too suprisingly, was the opposite sex. With fine specimen in the mansion, it was bound to spur the coquettish spaniard. Ororo was secretly embarassed the first times Vi breached the topic. Not because she was unaccustomed to such talk, but because she had nothing recent to speak of. Yet as she noticed the attitude of her friend, she began to feel more heartened. The purple haired beauty had a way to point out men's finer points, and their most obvious flaws that forced Storm to reevaluate her teammates.

All that talk of men and the relationships, real or imagined, that could arise, awakened a longing Storm had felt growing inside her since Scott and Jean had become engaged. Vi was a lot of fun, but it was not the same as when you know the supposedly stronger sex desired you as a woman. And Vi, despite her apparent playfullness, seemed little enclined to the matters of the heart beyond the shameless flirting she had going on with the X-males. Storm realised that the younger woman was not even serious about pursuing any of them, but she could not help feel envious of the ease with which she twisted them around her little finger. And truth be told, Storm was almost certain, most of the time, Vi was not using any of her supernatural power

When the topic veered to women's favourite nightmare again, Ororo finally confided in Vi. She told her she wished she had a better approach to men, that she would have liked them to pay her some attention. That she longed for the tingles of love.


Neither women could know that a small fairy was bound to hear a wish reverberated by the ring. But at long last, Mélusine had work to look forward to. She was already pleased with the strange friendship between the two women. She had seen how the team members reacted, and they looked surprised that Vi had seen something in Ororo that they had not. They were suprised at how often the two of them could be found chatting together. All in all, the fay creature thought, the positive influence of Violada had forced Ororo Munro to examine her feelings more closely and to express them.

And now she was wishing for the dream of every fairy godmother. The woman needed a man of her own. It was a pity that she had wished men would pay attention to her though, because that would make the magic less direct, but she was certain everything would work for the best.

Mélusine rubbed lily-of-the-valley between her fingers and wove her spell with no difficulty at all and she punctuated the work with her melodic words.

Every man in this mansion fine
Will stop seeing her with blinds
When Storm them eligible finds
And invite her for best to dine.
The Storm woman would soon be surrounded with the attentions of those men she most desired.


When Ororo Munro woke up the morning after, she felt great. In fact she had rarely felt so good in the last few years. Every bit of her body felt in the right place, and the weather outside was positively bright. There seemed to be no special reason for it, but she was not about to question her good humour too thoroughly. By the goddess, she was wired!

She got dressed and left all her long caftans aside, opting for a festive summer dress. She gathered her long thick hair into a french braid and even put on bright berry pink lipstick. She might not be on the verge of making Maybelline proud, but this was rather finicky for her usual behaviour. She peered in her mirror, turned her face this way and that way, and for the first time in a long while, she liked the image it reflected back at her. If the men did not find her pretty, then there was something wrong with their brains. As she moved outside her room, the thought brought a smile to her face that further enhanced her beauty.

As she walked down the stairs, she passed Hank by on his way to his room. She saluted him warmly. He must have had another of his all-nighters, so engrossed in his work that he even forgot that there were other people in the wide world. She had always liked his devotion to science and to the cure for the virus. She felt a bit concerned though, did a person not require more than to devote their life to the wellness of others?

But she felt so light, so vibrant today that she chased the question from her mind, and entered the kitchen for breakfast. Today she was going to have a fruit salad for breakfast and no amount of reason would make her settle for the american breakfast. A determined expression settled on her face and she headed straight for the refrigerator and took one of every kind of fruit she managed to find among the leftover pizzas, and other junk food that was stacked in it. Scott and Jean had been gone for a while and it showed. Logan, Jubilee, Bobby, and Rogue were not the kind to ponder over long on what to eat. If it did not prepare in two steps, literally unthaw and open, they went for whatever restaurant delivered to the mansion.

She even hummed as she prepared her meal. She sat down and was enjoying her delicious breakfast when Logan entered the kitchen. he was obviously back from his workout because he faintly smelled of one of those wake-up scented soaps. She was fascinated with her own attitude as the soapy smell combined with the manly odour of his washed body reached her nostrils, she found herself reacting the way many females would. It smelled even better than her salad...

She bade him good morning. As he started to fix his own breakfast she gazed at him in his back. She had never really thought of Logan that way, but he was attractive. He was shorter than she was, but heightwise, she could practically look in the eyes of every other X-male. She was pretty tall herself. But no one could say Logan was not manly. She would enjoy going out with him, and be more than just well honed team mates. She even blushed at her own thoughts, but could not stop thinking. The mental gears of her imagination were working and soon, she wished he would think of her in the same way.

Immediately, Logan turned, his spatula oddly raised in the air and he looked at her as if she was going to be his breakfast. Storm's jaw dropped and Logan smiled. She could even swear she had briefly seen a bit of tooth. He let down the spatula in the sink, stretched his arm behind his back, quickly turned off the stovetop and forgot about his eggs. In a second he was sitting across the table, looking at her and seemingly happy at the privilege. Other women might have been wary of a man looking at them like they were the last pint of Rocky Road ice cream on the face of the earth, but Ororo Munroe was a goddess and an undaunted goddess at that.

"Logan, is something the matter?" she asked him, not too sure if this was cause for alarm. Odd things had been happening lately.

"Nuthin ain't tha matter Storm, I was juss wonderin what a pretty gal like ya is doin in a place like this."

Storm was vaguely aware that this was a way males often had of initiating conversation with an attractive female, but strangely, she had thought the X-men never had to resort to it. Especially not Logan, women of all ages were pouring themselves all over him anytime he deigned to notice their existence. And to ask her that question, was definitely weird.

"I too defend the right of mutants to co-exist peacefully with humans." She replied with her usual calm because she very well knew her purpose.

"Yeah, Storm, save me, let's have dinner tonight." He looked as though he ardently wanted her to agree and if the privilege of taking her out to dinner was all that stood between him and happiness.

Ororo looked at him as if he had sprouted horns, but the offer was just too good to pass. Had she not been wishing something like this might happen? She simply hesitated a moment but she still agreed quickly to his proposition.


Ororo had for the first time in her life taken hours to make herself look her best. And she had to admit making the man wait had its uses, when she had finally come downstairs, Logan looking uneasy in a suit had devoured her with his eyes. Bishop had also stiffly complimented her, and Remy had said something that had made her face flush right up to the root of her hair.

Wolverine looked at a loss for what to do at first, then proffered his extended arm for her to take. She did, and they wished everyone a good evening before leaving. Logan acted very gallantly and Storm enjoyed his courtesy very much.

Unfortunately, civility was a bit at odds with Logan proudly taking her to his new Humvee. She could understand the man loved the make, but this one looked even more beaten down than the previous one. "Ah, well", Ororo thought, "maybe it's a collectible, precious because it had been in WW2 or some such thing." She was just going to ignore that oddity when Violada showed up.

"I come to bid you good evening, Ororo, Logan." was all Violada said. But she needed say no more, her whole appearance was statement enough for Logan. She was dressed in a knee length skirt and a neat puffy sleeved white shirt. It made her look like a teenage girl. As strong as the spell of Ororo's beauty and of Melusine's magic was, Logan simply seemed unable to resist his deeper nature. He invited her along.

"You wanna come along, honey?" he said, apparently oblivious to the suprise on Ororo's face. "You look like you ain't got anything fun to do tonight."

Violada protested that she was fine, and that she was not ready to go anywhere special anyway. Apparently, she could see that Ororo was fuming under the affable face she kept in place. But Logan would not leave it alone, his protectiveness of young daughter figures resurfacing. Storm could not gracefully refuse or make a scene. So after much deliberations on Logan's part, it was decided that the three of them would drive to McDonald's and drive through, because quite frankly, as Logan pointed out, Ororo was overdressed.

Ororo kept her cool as she was used to, but she was quite confused which emotion roiled stronger in her, humiliation, or anger. She could feel the tight leash she kept on her temper loosening and her hold on the elements strengthening. That paused her to think. Just as she did, Vi giggled coyly.

"Logan, that is a very good trick." She was not flirting, she was just the way she always was. It seemed to come naturally to her. She was such a girly woman.

The weather goddess shot them both a dirty look that they completely missed. But at the same time she could not be truly angry at them. Violada was not trying anything, Logan had twisted her arm into coming, and he was the one paying more attention to the young woman than to the woman he invited. And maybe she had read too much into the invitation afterall. So she bidded her time, trying very hard to act as though nothing was wrong until Logan drove them back to the mansion.

Logan was not too sure what was wrong with Ororo, but when they were back at the mansion, she bade him goodnight, and left as though she was in a hurry. He had wanted to talk to her a bit, maybe even walk under the moonlight in the garden. Truly, she was a wondrous woman, but she acted weirdly. So after Vi left too after Storm, he found himself on his own, a bit confused. He just chalked it up to the strangeness of women. That always worked.


The day after, Mélusine watched unbeknowst to the X-men the aftereffects of her magic. Apparently Storm had not chosen wisely. She was in a sorry mood too, if the weather was any indication. Logan could do that to a person she reckoned. But the romantic getaway should have improved the woman's spirits, not worsen it. Now she was back to tending her plants, except they would not survive her disappointment very long, given the furious pace at which she was plucking dead leaves out.

Perhaps the spell had been wrong in the first place. Humans never were very good at handling attraction. At least that was what the little fay creature pondered until a big blue mutant wandered to Storm's door. She had seen that one before, the one called Beast. So far he had been the most reasonable of the group. So what was he doing there, obviously debating whether or not to knock on Ororo's door?


Hank McCoy rubbed the nape of his neck. He had the weirdest prickling feeling there. Strangely his hair was standing on end and he was willing to bet he had a fierce air. Nothing seemed amiss so there was no reason to feel as spooked as he was feeling. But he could not shake the feeling. As if someone, or something was watching intently.

He tried to chase the thoughts from his brain and thought about the reason he had come upstairs from his lab. Ororo had seemed upset this morning. He did not like to think of her unhappy. In fact, he had wanted to ask what was wrong, she was absolutely radiant the day before. Not that she was not the most beautiful of all the X-women, even on her worst days, but she had positively glowed all day. Then Logan had invited her out and he had felt a pang of jealousy.

Hank finally turned back, he was so certain Storm would not appreciate the intrusion. And honestly, it was just him, Hank McCoy, AKA the Beast. If he talked to her, she would not see past his words of concern. And he dared not approach her directly. He readjusted his coat, certain the temperature had dropped, and returned to his lab trying to paste his normal cheery expression on his face.


What a hoot! Mélusine thought. Leave it to humans to always look in the wrong direction when it came to love. Cousin Puck was right after all, matchmaking is the greatest fun. She forgot to worry about Mr McCoy and his reaction to her presence.

She had the strongest feeling these two were made for one another. And of course she would give destiny a little push. If she left it to them, neither would ever come out of theirs shells. All would be well and she would have a good deed to show for herself.




-=+=+=>> The End of Chapter 2 =+=+=-
P. S. If you liked this story, please write me a review, I love to hear from you and it keeps me writing, sometimes it even makes me write a chapter more quickly! Please remember that this is a work in progress and that the next chapter should be upcoming.