Mystique quietly went upstairs and carefully, warily set out her purchase.
It was long past time she learned how to use the products all of her kind
used. As she opened the first package, her nose wrinkled at the strange
scent, but she would not be deterred. If the rest of her kind could use
such things, so could she. She wasn't scared - really.
First the strange, blood-red stick. She'd faked its effects many times with her mutation. Surely she could learn to use the real thing. The waxy, odd odor nearly made her gag and back out of the whole deal, but she would not be denied. She could do this. She brought it ever closer to her lips, fighting the urge to seal her mouth shut and throw the offending stick across the room. She could do this.
She carefully applied the stick to her lips, fighting the urge to shudder. Then, she carefully started smoothing it over her lips, still fighting back her gag reflex. Normally, when she was around various stenches, such as the annoying frog-boy, she would merely internally shape-shift to lose her sense of smell, but she was determined to do this like everyone else. She could do it. She could.
SLAM!
Mystique jumped, and the stick left a blood-red streak across her face. She considered going downstairs to show her ire. It had been a while since she'd used her powers to show her authority. She'd learned about just what scared the boys the most, from swamp monsters to vampires to Pietro's ongoing terror of Pikachu. After a moment's consideration, she decided to let them be. She was unsure if she could get herself to continue this operation if she stopped for even a moment.
Mystique carefully took one of the cleansing cloths she'd bought for the end of this exercise to remove the offending red. True, it wasn't blood, but she almost wished it was so she couldn't have to deal with that awful scent. She was used to the metallic scent of blood, and it no longer bothered her. The cleansing cloth was nearly as bad.
Next she removed a devise that looked like some kind of Medieval torture implement. The crescent-shaped clamp looked painful, but she knew she could do this. She had to get this bit done *now,* before she chickened out. She carefully raised it to eye level, and clasped it. Then she winced, released, and steadied herself to try again. That *hurt.* Why had her kind ever invented such an implement, when it could so easily take in folds of skin along with the proper hair? Slowly, with even more caution than before, she repeated the clamping operation. This time it went as planned. Relaxing slightly, she carefully worked on her other side, sighing with relief when she was done.
Ok, now for the cream. She opened the first jar, sniffed, and ran to the waste basket, fighting dry heaves. She was supposed to apply *that* to her face? Slowly, trembling, she returned and prepared to apply the noxious concoction. She could do this, couldn't she? She could. She must. She wasn't so weak, but how she longed for a long, bloody battle so she could put this off.
She carefully applied the rank concoction and, unable to fight off a grimace, rubbed it in. There. Done. That was the worst of it. Or at least she hoped it was.
Now another cream, much like the former. She managed to steel herself and rub it into her cheeks, once again fighting her gag reflex. Surely the X- men would make trouble soon. She'd even settle for her boys getting into another fight that brought down half the house, just so she could get out of this.
Next the powder for her eyes. Surprisingly, it didn't smell all that bad. A little like baby powder, reminding her of pleasanter times, before Magneto - that monster - had changed her precious little boy. Maybe she could do this after all. It was the matter of moments to apply the powder to her eyes, and not even all that bad.
Now for the slender sticks, for above the eyes and the mouth. They were still rank, but not nearly as bad as what had come before. Now for the last thing. She opened the final bottle and withdrew a strange, spikey brush that smelled worse than anything before it. She could do this. She could. Just one more thing, and she was done.
She carefully brought the brush up to her eyes an started applying it. Her hands were still shaking, and in a moment she slipped. The brush hit her eye and she dropped it, scrubbing furiously at her eyes to rid herself of the stinging sensation. Finally, the pain was gone, and she looked in the mirror again. She nearly cried. All her hard work was gone. She'd have to start all over. The tears and her hands had ruined it all.
Mystique started trembling uncontrollable. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't. Bloodbaths and guns and angry mutants she could handle just fine but this - this was torture. She couldn't do it.
Mystique bundled up her purchases and threw them in the trash. Tomorrow, she'd take them to the school with her and throw them in the incinerator. She didn't care how many females before her had managed to do this. She just couldn't do it. She was never going to try wearing makeup again.
____________________________________________________________
Opinions?
First the strange, blood-red stick. She'd faked its effects many times with her mutation. Surely she could learn to use the real thing. The waxy, odd odor nearly made her gag and back out of the whole deal, but she would not be denied. She could do this. She brought it ever closer to her lips, fighting the urge to seal her mouth shut and throw the offending stick across the room. She could do this.
She carefully applied the stick to her lips, fighting the urge to shudder. Then, she carefully started smoothing it over her lips, still fighting back her gag reflex. Normally, when she was around various stenches, such as the annoying frog-boy, she would merely internally shape-shift to lose her sense of smell, but she was determined to do this like everyone else. She could do it. She could.
SLAM!
Mystique jumped, and the stick left a blood-red streak across her face. She considered going downstairs to show her ire. It had been a while since she'd used her powers to show her authority. She'd learned about just what scared the boys the most, from swamp monsters to vampires to Pietro's ongoing terror of Pikachu. After a moment's consideration, she decided to let them be. She was unsure if she could get herself to continue this operation if she stopped for even a moment.
Mystique carefully took one of the cleansing cloths she'd bought for the end of this exercise to remove the offending red. True, it wasn't blood, but she almost wished it was so she couldn't have to deal with that awful scent. She was used to the metallic scent of blood, and it no longer bothered her. The cleansing cloth was nearly as bad.
Next she removed a devise that looked like some kind of Medieval torture implement. The crescent-shaped clamp looked painful, but she knew she could do this. She had to get this bit done *now,* before she chickened out. She carefully raised it to eye level, and clasped it. Then she winced, released, and steadied herself to try again. That *hurt.* Why had her kind ever invented such an implement, when it could so easily take in folds of skin along with the proper hair? Slowly, with even more caution than before, she repeated the clamping operation. This time it went as planned. Relaxing slightly, she carefully worked on her other side, sighing with relief when she was done.
Ok, now for the cream. She opened the first jar, sniffed, and ran to the waste basket, fighting dry heaves. She was supposed to apply *that* to her face? Slowly, trembling, she returned and prepared to apply the noxious concoction. She could do this, couldn't she? She could. She must. She wasn't so weak, but how she longed for a long, bloody battle so she could put this off.
She carefully applied the rank concoction and, unable to fight off a grimace, rubbed it in. There. Done. That was the worst of it. Or at least she hoped it was.
Now another cream, much like the former. She managed to steel herself and rub it into her cheeks, once again fighting her gag reflex. Surely the X- men would make trouble soon. She'd even settle for her boys getting into another fight that brought down half the house, just so she could get out of this.
Next the powder for her eyes. Surprisingly, it didn't smell all that bad. A little like baby powder, reminding her of pleasanter times, before Magneto - that monster - had changed her precious little boy. Maybe she could do this after all. It was the matter of moments to apply the powder to her eyes, and not even all that bad.
Now for the slender sticks, for above the eyes and the mouth. They were still rank, but not nearly as bad as what had come before. Now for the last thing. She opened the final bottle and withdrew a strange, spikey brush that smelled worse than anything before it. She could do this. She could. Just one more thing, and she was done.
She carefully brought the brush up to her eyes an started applying it. Her hands were still shaking, and in a moment she slipped. The brush hit her eye and she dropped it, scrubbing furiously at her eyes to rid herself of the stinging sensation. Finally, the pain was gone, and she looked in the mirror again. She nearly cried. All her hard work was gone. She'd have to start all over. The tears and her hands had ruined it all.
Mystique started trembling uncontrollable. She couldn't do this. She just couldn't. Bloodbaths and guns and angry mutants she could handle just fine but this - this was torture. She couldn't do it.
Mystique bundled up her purchases and threw them in the trash. Tomorrow, she'd take them to the school with her and throw them in the incinerator. She didn't care how many females before her had managed to do this. She just couldn't do it. She was never going to try wearing makeup again.
____________________________________________________________
Opinions?
