Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, except for Aurora. Plot is
mine though.
Throughout story: " " = Speech ' ' = Thoughts ^ ^ = Telepath
Chapter 2
Logan hurried onwards, the sky now showering down graceful buckets of snow that disturbed his vision. The sound was becoming clearer, louder. It sharply hummed at his ears making him proceed for a desired want. He stopped he had reached another clearing. The sound had faded again. Now snow was thickly cascading, large snowflakes decorating his form. He gave a small sigh, looking round, waiting for the sound to start up again.
'Oh great.. Perhaps I should turn back.'
Whimpering moan.
Logan's head sharply turned at this sound, eyes bolted to the floor looking for what his ears picked up. His eyes travelled over a small lump in the snow, camouflage of white dotted over. Logan took a small step forward, boots lightly crunching in the snow. He hesitated. He knew that something like this could easily be a trap.
Shuddering gasp.
Logan let out a bated breath, eyes watching the form on the floor. He couldn't make it out, snow had covered it so. A soft whine escaped from the form and haunted his ears. All doubt of safety left his mind and one conclusion roared at his temples.
'It's hurt.'
Whatever it was that was laid there must have been in pain, for a large object, which looks like a slab of concrete with chains upon, stapled down a limb to the floor. Crisp snow around this slab was stained a grisly red. Logan moved over, stopping beside the concrete piece. He crouched gently, sniffing towards the mound.
'Blood. Definitely hurt.'
The cigar dropped into the snow soon to be dotted with flakes that smouldered gently as they touched. The free hand moved forward, contacting the ice-cold lump with a hesitated touch. At this a mournful wail shrilled to his ears. More hurriedly, both hands moved, pushing the falling snow from the mound. He came across a material. Moving up be following to the trapped limb, dusted snow parted to reveal flesh marked with blood. Hands still moved on, pushing away snow as he went. A breath of shuddering air hit his wrist, catching his attention. Snow fell away to reveal a face. A face of a young woman. Blood streaked pale cheeks and patterned over an almost lifeless form. Now that all snow had been brushed away, Logan's mind was suddenly whammed by an unsuspecting memory, not of Jean, not of his friends, but of his past. The time in the lab, the pain, the hell. The blood.
Logan's frown burrowed, for he was looking upon a mutant with a replica past of his. One gloved hand, the uninjured hand bore four thin blades from her knuckles, the claws obtained a serrated edge. Logan's head bowed gently, it was another failed experiment of William Stryker. Frosted eyelashes shuddered gently and opened to view it's rescuer. Thoughts of pain still rushed past his temples, the agony, the shock and the emotions. Wizened brown eyes of his bore down upon haunting grey ones, which stared back up. Oozing with a majestic inner but so far showed fear.
The trapped limb still remained marked with blood; the temperature had numbed it of all major pain. During these few seconds of exchanging visual emotions. Logan had the time to notice her appearance. She was very thin, old muscles had been starved of nutrition. Long tresses of ebony were now thin and lifeless of health. Sallow skin dehydrated. Her only source of warmth was dirtied clothes and a slowly beating heart.
Logan didn't need any contemplating, strong arms held the concrete piece and sent it from the gash in her arm. At this a haunting sound struck into his mind was she let out a quivering wail of agony. He turned back to her, lifting her from the snow with graceful strength. She was incredibly cold, possibly numb in most places; he thought as he strode back across the snow, holding her close. The fear that bore her eyes remained, and she sat staring straight at him. Logan glanced to her gaze clearing her throat gently as he spoke for the first time, "It'll be alright." He murmured softly, watching her lids slowly blink to him.
'She's probably too weak to even talk let alone understand.' He thought to himself, eyes shifting to look up. But paused when he caught a small tag around her neck. A silver rectangle attached to a beaded chain bearing the text, 'Aurora 9047286' He let out a small grunt from his chest, frowning and shaking his head morosely, moving on.
He let out a grin to himself as his car came into view. He had, at last, been given his own. For Scott had got pretty fed up of Logan returning battered vehicles. He hurried on down the hill, clutching the woman tightly in his arms as he jumped down the last slope and hurried across the white carpet to the black Mazda that remained perfectly in place during his trip. Logan swiftly opened the door, gently placing her down onto the passenger seat. As he came round the bonnet of the car, he sent one last glance over the hills and flood water of Alkali Lake before he dropped into the warmth of his car, starting the engine with a fresh purr.
.
Throughout story: " " = Speech ' ' = Thoughts ^ ^ = Telepath
Chapter 2
Logan hurried onwards, the sky now showering down graceful buckets of snow that disturbed his vision. The sound was becoming clearer, louder. It sharply hummed at his ears making him proceed for a desired want. He stopped he had reached another clearing. The sound had faded again. Now snow was thickly cascading, large snowflakes decorating his form. He gave a small sigh, looking round, waiting for the sound to start up again.
'Oh great.. Perhaps I should turn back.'
Whimpering moan.
Logan's head sharply turned at this sound, eyes bolted to the floor looking for what his ears picked up. His eyes travelled over a small lump in the snow, camouflage of white dotted over. Logan took a small step forward, boots lightly crunching in the snow. He hesitated. He knew that something like this could easily be a trap.
Shuddering gasp.
Logan let out a bated breath, eyes watching the form on the floor. He couldn't make it out, snow had covered it so. A soft whine escaped from the form and haunted his ears. All doubt of safety left his mind and one conclusion roared at his temples.
'It's hurt.'
Whatever it was that was laid there must have been in pain, for a large object, which looks like a slab of concrete with chains upon, stapled down a limb to the floor. Crisp snow around this slab was stained a grisly red. Logan moved over, stopping beside the concrete piece. He crouched gently, sniffing towards the mound.
'Blood. Definitely hurt.'
The cigar dropped into the snow soon to be dotted with flakes that smouldered gently as they touched. The free hand moved forward, contacting the ice-cold lump with a hesitated touch. At this a mournful wail shrilled to his ears. More hurriedly, both hands moved, pushing the falling snow from the mound. He came across a material. Moving up be following to the trapped limb, dusted snow parted to reveal flesh marked with blood. Hands still moved on, pushing away snow as he went. A breath of shuddering air hit his wrist, catching his attention. Snow fell away to reveal a face. A face of a young woman. Blood streaked pale cheeks and patterned over an almost lifeless form. Now that all snow had been brushed away, Logan's mind was suddenly whammed by an unsuspecting memory, not of Jean, not of his friends, but of his past. The time in the lab, the pain, the hell. The blood.
Logan's frown burrowed, for he was looking upon a mutant with a replica past of his. One gloved hand, the uninjured hand bore four thin blades from her knuckles, the claws obtained a serrated edge. Logan's head bowed gently, it was another failed experiment of William Stryker. Frosted eyelashes shuddered gently and opened to view it's rescuer. Thoughts of pain still rushed past his temples, the agony, the shock and the emotions. Wizened brown eyes of his bore down upon haunting grey ones, which stared back up. Oozing with a majestic inner but so far showed fear.
The trapped limb still remained marked with blood; the temperature had numbed it of all major pain. During these few seconds of exchanging visual emotions. Logan had the time to notice her appearance. She was very thin, old muscles had been starved of nutrition. Long tresses of ebony were now thin and lifeless of health. Sallow skin dehydrated. Her only source of warmth was dirtied clothes and a slowly beating heart.
Logan didn't need any contemplating, strong arms held the concrete piece and sent it from the gash in her arm. At this a haunting sound struck into his mind was she let out a quivering wail of agony. He turned back to her, lifting her from the snow with graceful strength. She was incredibly cold, possibly numb in most places; he thought as he strode back across the snow, holding her close. The fear that bore her eyes remained, and she sat staring straight at him. Logan glanced to her gaze clearing her throat gently as he spoke for the first time, "It'll be alright." He murmured softly, watching her lids slowly blink to him.
'She's probably too weak to even talk let alone understand.' He thought to himself, eyes shifting to look up. But paused when he caught a small tag around her neck. A silver rectangle attached to a beaded chain bearing the text, 'Aurora 9047286' He let out a small grunt from his chest, frowning and shaking his head morosely, moving on.
He let out a grin to himself as his car came into view. He had, at last, been given his own. For Scott had got pretty fed up of Logan returning battered vehicles. He hurried on down the hill, clutching the woman tightly in his arms as he jumped down the last slope and hurried across the white carpet to the black Mazda that remained perfectly in place during his trip. Logan swiftly opened the door, gently placing her down onto the passenger seat. As he came round the bonnet of the car, he sent one last glance over the hills and flood water of Alkali Lake before he dropped into the warmth of his car, starting the engine with a fresh purr.
.
