Tolerance
By: Kryptonite
A/N: This chapter and the next two chapters are from the story 'The Depth of Beauty' with permission from it's author, ladymoonlight1. So I'd like to send out a huge thanks to her for allowing me the use of her chapter, thank you!
Well obviously my last A/N was way off since I haven't updated. Well, I've hit a huge funk with all my stories. I'm also going to try and re-write this story, it really just hit a huge snag somewhere in production. I'll try to update a little more regularly but it might not happen. Thanks for reading, have a nice day.
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The glasses clinked melodiously as they toasted. Ororo took a tentative sip of the dry red wine, her eyes locked on Kurt. He nervously set down his glass and then reached his hand out across the table. She allowed him to take her free hand in his own.
"Fraulein…there is something I have been wanting to tell you…" he began, his eyes focused on the tablecloth.
"Yes?" asked Ororo eagerly, leaning forward with anticipation.
Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but the waiter picked that inopportune moment to return with their food. Ororo frowned and pulled away from Kurt, sitting back so that the waiter could place her plate before her. For a moment, she hoped that her friend might continue with what he was about to say, but he appeared to be suddenly engrossed in his meal. The weather witch let out a deep sigh.
The pair ate in silence, commenting from time to time on the meal. Ororo was beginning to grow uneasy. It wasn't her dinner companion, but the odd sense that she was being watched. She glanced around the restaurant, but everyone seemed preoccupied with their own conversations.
She had to turn around in her seat to find who was watching her. She was quite surprised who the culprit was. An older woman, with gray, wispy hair that was pulled back into a tight bun, sat still with her eyes fixed on Ororo. Her lips were pinched into a frown and she seemed to be very displeased about something.
Immediately, Ororo assumed it was because she was a mutant. Her powder-white hair betrayed her peculiar DNA code. Ororo was accustomed to people staring at her, trying to decide whether or not her hair was bleached.
The weather witch turned back to her companion, trying to ignore the older woman's stares. No one else seemed too disturbed by the near proximity of a possible mutant. Maybe it was because Kurt appeared to be perfectly normal. Human-mutant relationships were almost completely unheard of. Prejudices seemed to run deep.
The elderly lady politely excused herself from the table and headed towards the restroom. Kurt and Ororo's table lay in her path. She refrained herself to icy glares as she walked by the first time. However, as she returned to her seat moments later, her eyes locked on Kurt and she gave him a reprimanding glare. Then her eyes flickered to Ororo. In a hushed whisper she uttered a single word as she sauntered onward. Ororo's stomach clenched and every muscle in her body tensed. A few patrons glanced up from their meals as a loud rumble of thunder shook the glass windows.
Across the table, Kurt sat very still as he cautiously studied Ororo. He had heard what the woman had muttered, but he was confused. He had never heard that particular English word before, but gauging from his friend's reaction, it wasn't pleasant or polite. He leaned forward and whispered softly. "Ororo. What does that mean?"
The weather witch took a deep, shaking breath, trying to steady herself. However, when she spoke, her voice betrayed her. "It's a word used for people like me," she answered softly.
"A mutant?" asked Kurt in a lower tone, his eyes moving towards where the woman was now seated, talking heatedly to her husband and gesturing emphatically towards them.
"No, Kurt," replied Ororo. "Someone with my color skin."
He turned back to her in surprise. "Was!" he exclaimed, slipping back into German. Those closest to the pair turned to stare at hem. Kurt half-rose, fully intending on marching over there and letting the woman know exactly what he thought of her. Ororo reached out and grasped his wrist.
"Kurt, please don't. You'll only make it worse," she pleaded softly, glancing apologetically towards their audience.