Times Crucible Lost
Prologue
"Ughhh...." the faint moan escaped her lips, as she became suddenly, and
groggily, aware of the stiffness in the all of her joints. They stung like small beams of light wakes of fire like whips, all the way from her neck to her ankles and toes almost. Everything hurt slightly, but it -that pain- meant one thing atleast - she WAS still alive and aware of herself
Light streamed from somewhere close; and it met her eyes in a bright glare that's she tried to shy away from into a hard cotton fabric to what must have been a pillow after she'd opened her eyes. There were sounds beginning to bombard her innocently awoken ears now. Close by she could hear water running -it must have been a wide shower sprayer in a connected room- and even closer she could hear the incessant monotone talking of a TV. Yet, beyond that the only two closer sounds were her soft breath into the crisp, starched dark green pillow and the squeaky, unstable bed beneath her, which seemed to creak louder with her each and every new movement.
"This is Tilby Tish reporting, in the last few minutes before the beginning notes of this beautiful ceremony, from the extended London Post for the Cross-Continental, the wedding of Professor & Geneticist McTaggert of the Diagnostic Genetics World Company & University, to the father in the world renowned singing duet set; "The Myt---
The TV suddenly and unexpectedly clipped off and the sound of another person near her struck her ears; "Blasted news casters; they never report the bleedin' truth anyway. Hey; stop hiding there. I know you're awake, you're being too noisy to be out of it still, woman."
She openned her eyes again, pushing up slightly, from the stiff green pillow and staidly, yet bland multi colored comforter that was in comparison oddly soft. Her eyes roved a second at the surroundings -a filthy, scattered and incredibly small motel room with two beds, a dresser, bed table and a door to a bathroom- before they landed on the person who ordered her around.
A dark haired woman with deep set eyes -the dark light that shined in them reminding her almost of Gambit's, except the coloring was wrong- in a dark colored blue. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a loose shirt, with her hair up in a towel only a few strands hanging out, and had a way of standing, which was both authoritative and teenagerly rebellious.
The young woman stared at her, her face hard and set. It was evident she had lived a hard life and was old for her years perhaps like many of them had been always. She moved to a chair to face the girl lying on the bed, her movements deadly but graceful. She sat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a gold zippo lighter. Just what I need right now; she thought as she lit the cigarette. Taking a deep drag, she held the unknown woman in place with a piercing gaze. Her voice low and husky from too many cigarettes in her life.
"We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. The choice is yours."
She reached a hand up slowly, a bit confused still, running it through her tussled and bed-slept hair as she sat up, she in wonderment of her surroundings and of this woman, and what she was. Her captor? A future friend?
"I- who are-" she had stopped suddenly as her mouth opened to a slight O. She had just tried to reach out with her mind to scan the woman's mind and nothing had happened. In fact she was feeling NOTHING at all anywhere, which meant there must have been an extremely powerful dampening field for the purpose of blocking her mental powers, she thought logically- at first.
"W-where am I and what do you want?" She said remaining her dignity and courage, that she wore life a blanket over her almost. Something rags riches and chains had never been able to take from her.
The woman took a drag from her cigarette, watching the woman. She could tell the confusion was real and the fear, even though she wanted to hide that fact. She also knew this was a woman of scruples, some one she had always tried to be like.
"Who I am is no concern of your for the moment, But I would like to know why you quite literally fell in my lap." Her face seems to harden even more. "And who ya are."
She reached over the table to her leather jacket. Reaching in the pocket she pulled out a 45 and lay it on the table the barrel pointing at the bed draggled woman. There was no mistake that the woman could shoot it before she would have a second to react "and I suggest ya answer me and not give me any trouble."
She glanced at the gun steadily nothing showing in her eyes, an assured expression as her eyes glanced towards the woman, they were a bright emerald green, like sunlight through grass or perhaps small rounded emeralds that held her engaged a second. She didn't seem like a person she should fear at this second, aside for that manner of the gun. For a minor second she though how annoying dampening fields were, because just being able to tell her intentions by her presence was a lot easier sometimes.
"There's no need for that; It's Jean...fair's fair even in these stupid games, what's yours?""
She took another drag, letting the smoke fall from her mouth as she nodded slowly.
"The names Oraya."
Her hand never moved from the gun. Oraya looked over the Jean knowing she was confused, but Oraya was just as confused if not more. She wondered if drinking had finally taken an effect on her, as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey, taking a large gulp. She wanted answers and she wanted them now, but thought maybe she should bide her time...for now.
"I want to know why ya ran me over, but until ya get that figured out," her eyes narrow and harden like pieces of ice " Ya staying with me." The words menacing almost like a threat.
She stood and walked over to the closet, another 45 could be seen in the back of her pants, She took out some saddle motorcycle bags and set them on the bed. Going threw them she pulled out a pair of clean Jeans and a shirt, tossing them to Jean.
"Put those on and get ready we leave in 30 minutes, ya got time to take a shower, and if ya dot know how to ride a motorcycle ya better learn in that time as well"
She moved back to the table, lighting another cigg, and taking a drink of the whiskey.
Jean Grey watched her silently a second before slipping off the bed quietly, aside from the rustle of the blankets. She was a hard set type or atleast she was trying to appear it desperately, turning to it and nothing else. She wrinkled her nose a second at the cigarette smoke as she picked up the clothes. She heavily disliked cigars and cigarettes and the odors they gave off and she thought she'd put up enough with them considering both Gambit and Wolverine. The woman was also a drinker, but how well could she hold her stuff?
"Sure..."
...For now.
Better to comply till she figured out exactly where here was and could get in touch with her friends- which she would also need the use of a phone for. She wasn't afraid of this woman -much-, and her only confusion sprung from the lapse between remembering what exactly had happened between when she'd been with Scott and the others in Alaska and suddenly waking up here.
The last thing she remember, she reflected as she undressed and turned on the shower standing in the middle of the bathroom a second, rubbing her arms, was that massive suddenly attack on her mind and something about Betsy had plagued her- but why couldn't she reach it, remember it? What had happened?
The thoughts assailed her as she stepped in the water, smallest shiver against the sudden temperature change before her body began to relax fractionally, and her mind began to wonder.........who was this Oraya?
Prologue
"Ughhh...." the faint moan escaped her lips, as she became suddenly, and
groggily, aware of the stiffness in the all of her joints. They stung like small beams of light wakes of fire like whips, all the way from her neck to her ankles and toes almost. Everything hurt slightly, but it -that pain- meant one thing atleast - she WAS still alive and aware of herself
Light streamed from somewhere close; and it met her eyes in a bright glare that's she tried to shy away from into a hard cotton fabric to what must have been a pillow after she'd opened her eyes. There were sounds beginning to bombard her innocently awoken ears now. Close by she could hear water running -it must have been a wide shower sprayer in a connected room- and even closer she could hear the incessant monotone talking of a TV. Yet, beyond that the only two closer sounds were her soft breath into the crisp, starched dark green pillow and the squeaky, unstable bed beneath her, which seemed to creak louder with her each and every new movement.
"This is Tilby Tish reporting, in the last few minutes before the beginning notes of this beautiful ceremony, from the extended London Post for the Cross-Continental, the wedding of Professor & Geneticist McTaggert of the Diagnostic Genetics World Company & University, to the father in the world renowned singing duet set; "The Myt---
The TV suddenly and unexpectedly clipped off and the sound of another person near her struck her ears; "Blasted news casters; they never report the bleedin' truth anyway. Hey; stop hiding there. I know you're awake, you're being too noisy to be out of it still, woman."
She openned her eyes again, pushing up slightly, from the stiff green pillow and staidly, yet bland multi colored comforter that was in comparison oddly soft. Her eyes roved a second at the surroundings -a filthy, scattered and incredibly small motel room with two beds, a dresser, bed table and a door to a bathroom- before they landed on the person who ordered her around.
A dark haired woman with deep set eyes -the dark light that shined in them reminding her almost of Gambit's, except the coloring was wrong- in a dark colored blue. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a loose shirt, with her hair up in a towel only a few strands hanging out, and had a way of standing, which was both authoritative and teenagerly rebellious.
The young woman stared at her, her face hard and set. It was evident she had lived a hard life and was old for her years perhaps like many of them had been always. She moved to a chair to face the girl lying on the bed, her movements deadly but graceful. She sat and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, a gold zippo lighter. Just what I need right now; she thought as she lit the cigarette. Taking a deep drag, she held the unknown woman in place with a piercing gaze. Her voice low and husky from too many cigarettes in her life.
"We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. The choice is yours."
She reached a hand up slowly, a bit confused still, running it through her tussled and bed-slept hair as she sat up, she in wonderment of her surroundings and of this woman, and what she was. Her captor? A future friend?
"I- who are-" she had stopped suddenly as her mouth opened to a slight O. She had just tried to reach out with her mind to scan the woman's mind and nothing had happened. In fact she was feeling NOTHING at all anywhere, which meant there must have been an extremely powerful dampening field for the purpose of blocking her mental powers, she thought logically- at first.
"W-where am I and what do you want?" She said remaining her dignity and courage, that she wore life a blanket over her almost. Something rags riches and chains had never been able to take from her.
The woman took a drag from her cigarette, watching the woman. She could tell the confusion was real and the fear, even though she wanted to hide that fact. She also knew this was a woman of scruples, some one she had always tried to be like.
"Who I am is no concern of your for the moment, But I would like to know why you quite literally fell in my lap." Her face seems to harden even more. "And who ya are."
She reached over the table to her leather jacket. Reaching in the pocket she pulled out a 45 and lay it on the table the barrel pointing at the bed draggled woman. There was no mistake that the woman could shoot it before she would have a second to react "and I suggest ya answer me and not give me any trouble."
She glanced at the gun steadily nothing showing in her eyes, an assured expression as her eyes glanced towards the woman, they were a bright emerald green, like sunlight through grass or perhaps small rounded emeralds that held her engaged a second. She didn't seem like a person she should fear at this second, aside for that manner of the gun. For a minor second she though how annoying dampening fields were, because just being able to tell her intentions by her presence was a lot easier sometimes.
"There's no need for that; It's Jean...fair's fair even in these stupid games, what's yours?""
She took another drag, letting the smoke fall from her mouth as she nodded slowly.
"The names Oraya."
Her hand never moved from the gun. Oraya looked over the Jean knowing she was confused, but Oraya was just as confused if not more. She wondered if drinking had finally taken an effect on her, as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey, taking a large gulp. She wanted answers and she wanted them now, but thought maybe she should bide her time...for now.
"I want to know why ya ran me over, but until ya get that figured out," her eyes narrow and harden like pieces of ice " Ya staying with me." The words menacing almost like a threat.
She stood and walked over to the closet, another 45 could be seen in the back of her pants, She took out some saddle motorcycle bags and set them on the bed. Going threw them she pulled out a pair of clean Jeans and a shirt, tossing them to Jean.
"Put those on and get ready we leave in 30 minutes, ya got time to take a shower, and if ya dot know how to ride a motorcycle ya better learn in that time as well"
She moved back to the table, lighting another cigg, and taking a drink of the whiskey.
Jean Grey watched her silently a second before slipping off the bed quietly, aside from the rustle of the blankets. She was a hard set type or atleast she was trying to appear it desperately, turning to it and nothing else. She wrinkled her nose a second at the cigarette smoke as she picked up the clothes. She heavily disliked cigars and cigarettes and the odors they gave off and she thought she'd put up enough with them considering both Gambit and Wolverine. The woman was also a drinker, but how well could she hold her stuff?
"Sure..."
...For now.
Better to comply till she figured out exactly where here was and could get in touch with her friends- which she would also need the use of a phone for. She wasn't afraid of this woman -much-, and her only confusion sprung from the lapse between remembering what exactly had happened between when she'd been with Scott and the others in Alaska and suddenly waking up here.
The last thing she remember, she reflected as she undressed and turned on the shower standing in the middle of the bathroom a second, rubbing her arms, was that massive suddenly attack on her mind and something about Betsy had plagued her- but why couldn't she reach it, remember it? What had happened?
The thoughts assailed her as she stepped in the water, smallest shiver against the sudden temperature change before her body began to relax fractionally, and her mind began to wonder.........who was this Oraya?