Fragrant Offering 2: But Who Was It From?
author: Lucinda
rating: pg
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
Someone had given her flowers, and the sweetest note that she'd ever seen. The gift had made her smile, and had cheered her immensely. One thing puzzled her, who could it have been? The card had not been signed, leaving only the handwritten message and a dirty thumb print along the edge as a sign that it had been from a real man instead of a wistful figment of dreams. But she didn't recognize the handwriting.
The mystery of it had captured her interest. She wanted to know who it had been, who her admirer was, so that she could thank him, and possibly... Could there be the chance for romance in her future? Could there be someone who had noticed that she was a grown woman, that she might have desires and passions and emotions as did any other woman? Someone who might be willing to open their heart to her, to allow her to be Ororo the woman instead of the teacher or teammate or goddess or mentor?
She could feel the threads of hope growing inside her heart, like the first fragile leaves of a new plant. She had an admirer, someone who thought that she was attractive, desirable. Someone who's gift had come at the perfect time to make her feel better. It was a delightful feeling, and she loved it.
Who could it have been? She began to consider all of the men at the school, trying to puzzle out the identity. She could rule out many of the students based on the size of the thumbprint, it had to be either one of the men or perhaps some of the oldest male students might have large enough thumbs... but she didn't think that the phrase had been selected by a student, regardless of their thumbs.
It couldn't have been Scott, not only was he dedicated to Jean, the handwriting wasn't anything like his. It wasn't anything like the Professor's, who would have been aware of her mood through his telepathic abilities; not only could he not have gathered the plants, his writing was almost like a typewriter's printing.
There was Warren, the recently arrived sometime playboy with the wings and golden looks of an angel. He seemed confident and polished enough to have thought of something as sweet as leaving flowers for someone to find. But, would he have chosen wild flowers? He seemed so much the polished creature of the city, she couldn't picture him gathering wild flowers in the forrest.
Perhaps it had been Dr. McCoy, the biochemist that had recently come to Xavier's? She could see him getting his hands dirty to accomplish something, but... as much time as he spent in the labs, would he have left them to hunt down some delicate flowers?
There was Logan. She could easily see him in the woods, although not necessarily to gather flowers. He would even know that she would find them in the greenhouse. But, the phrase had seemed so poetic, an almost reverential compliment that didn't match the general opinion of Logan. Logan didn't seem like the type to write poetry, or offer flowery compliments. But... how much did they really know about Logan?
Ororo sighed in frustration, coming to the conclusion that she would not be able to logic out the person that had sent her the flowers. There were too many possibilities, and she had too little information about them. She didn't know enough about some of them to know if they might have been her admirer. Trying to puzzle out little bits of information to paint who and when and why someone had delivered her flowers was only giving her a headache. Clearly, she needed a new tactic.
There had to be something that she could do to try to learn who it had been. Some way to find a clue, to discover who had found them for her. If not from what she had already learned... Staring at the flowers, she noticed that one sprig had bloomed on a rather long stalk. If she plucked that stalk, and removed a few of the leaves, she could wear it in her hair. Perhaps her admirer would show some reaction, some hint that he had given them to her?
Later, Ororo made her way to her history class, wearing along crinkled skirt in various shades of blue, carefully chosen to compliment the color of the spray of delicate blue flowers that she had tucked behind her ear. Hopefully, whoever had given them to her would say something to reveal his part in their arrival. If not, she still felt far more cheerful than she had yesterday, so things were better.
She'd had a few people comment on the flowers, calling them pretty, and a few people hadn't even realized that the flowers had been real, thinking them no more than an ornate creation. That did make it simple enough to rule out a few people, the gentlemen that didn't know they were real flowers obviously couldn't have been the one to give them to her. The compliments did improve her mood, and the day seemed to be going quite nicely, although she was starting to wonder if her admirer was someone that had simply bypassed the entire security system to deliver flowers from far away.
"The leaves work well in a salad too. Sort of like mild Oregano." Logan was leaning in the doorway, looking at her with one of his expressions, the one that at a casual glance looked a bit frustrated, a bit unsettled, and it was only with a closer look that she discovered the faint smile, traces of amusement or pleasure in his face, in the twinkle of his pale eyes.
"The leaves... Logan, may I see your thumbs?" A suspicion had bloomed in her mind, like the sudden unfurling of a flower. How did he know what the leaves looked like?
With a small shrug, he held out his hands, inviting her to come closer, to enter his personal space if she wanted to look. "They're pretty normal thumbs, but if you really want..."
She lifted his hand with her own, examing his hand and particularly his thumbs with careful attention to detail. There were dozens of tiny scars over the backs of his fingers, straight lines as if... as if his metal claws had opened the skin on the backs of his fingers. There were calluses and ridges on his hands, hands that had known hard work. There was also a slight hint of dirt under the corner of his thumbnail, the same dark reddish soil that had been around the pot of blue flowers.
"Logan?" Her voice was full of questions that she couldn't even put words to, wondering how much of this man they had missed simply by not looking beneath the surface. He was more than simply a fighter, more than a slightly hostile man without a past. He was... Logan, and complex and baffling.
"Don't Goddesses always get fragrant offerings? The Professor's looking for you. Maybe you should see what he wants." There was a smile to his eyes as he spoke.
She nodded, and released his hand, which returned to his side very slowly. Walking down the hall, she paused, looking at him for a moment before speaking. "Logan? Thank you... for the flowers."
end But Who Was It?
author: Lucinda
rating: pg
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
Someone had given her flowers, and the sweetest note that she'd ever seen. The gift had made her smile, and had cheered her immensely. One thing puzzled her, who could it have been? The card had not been signed, leaving only the handwritten message and a dirty thumb print along the edge as a sign that it had been from a real man instead of a wistful figment of dreams. But she didn't recognize the handwriting.
The mystery of it had captured her interest. She wanted to know who it had been, who her admirer was, so that she could thank him, and possibly... Could there be the chance for romance in her future? Could there be someone who had noticed that she was a grown woman, that she might have desires and passions and emotions as did any other woman? Someone who might be willing to open their heart to her, to allow her to be Ororo the woman instead of the teacher or teammate or goddess or mentor?
She could feel the threads of hope growing inside her heart, like the first fragile leaves of a new plant. She had an admirer, someone who thought that she was attractive, desirable. Someone who's gift had come at the perfect time to make her feel better. It was a delightful feeling, and she loved it.
Who could it have been? She began to consider all of the men at the school, trying to puzzle out the identity. She could rule out many of the students based on the size of the thumbprint, it had to be either one of the men or perhaps some of the oldest male students might have large enough thumbs... but she didn't think that the phrase had been selected by a student, regardless of their thumbs.
It couldn't have been Scott, not only was he dedicated to Jean, the handwriting wasn't anything like his. It wasn't anything like the Professor's, who would have been aware of her mood through his telepathic abilities; not only could he not have gathered the plants, his writing was almost like a typewriter's printing.
There was Warren, the recently arrived sometime playboy with the wings and golden looks of an angel. He seemed confident and polished enough to have thought of something as sweet as leaving flowers for someone to find. But, would he have chosen wild flowers? He seemed so much the polished creature of the city, she couldn't picture him gathering wild flowers in the forrest.
Perhaps it had been Dr. McCoy, the biochemist that had recently come to Xavier's? She could see him getting his hands dirty to accomplish something, but... as much time as he spent in the labs, would he have left them to hunt down some delicate flowers?
There was Logan. She could easily see him in the woods, although not necessarily to gather flowers. He would even know that she would find them in the greenhouse. But, the phrase had seemed so poetic, an almost reverential compliment that didn't match the general opinion of Logan. Logan didn't seem like the type to write poetry, or offer flowery compliments. But... how much did they really know about Logan?
Ororo sighed in frustration, coming to the conclusion that she would not be able to logic out the person that had sent her the flowers. There were too many possibilities, and she had too little information about them. She didn't know enough about some of them to know if they might have been her admirer. Trying to puzzle out little bits of information to paint who and when and why someone had delivered her flowers was only giving her a headache. Clearly, she needed a new tactic.
There had to be something that she could do to try to learn who it had been. Some way to find a clue, to discover who had found them for her. If not from what she had already learned... Staring at the flowers, she noticed that one sprig had bloomed on a rather long stalk. If she plucked that stalk, and removed a few of the leaves, she could wear it in her hair. Perhaps her admirer would show some reaction, some hint that he had given them to her?
Later, Ororo made her way to her history class, wearing along crinkled skirt in various shades of blue, carefully chosen to compliment the color of the spray of delicate blue flowers that she had tucked behind her ear. Hopefully, whoever had given them to her would say something to reveal his part in their arrival. If not, she still felt far more cheerful than she had yesterday, so things were better.
She'd had a few people comment on the flowers, calling them pretty, and a few people hadn't even realized that the flowers had been real, thinking them no more than an ornate creation. That did make it simple enough to rule out a few people, the gentlemen that didn't know they were real flowers obviously couldn't have been the one to give them to her. The compliments did improve her mood, and the day seemed to be going quite nicely, although she was starting to wonder if her admirer was someone that had simply bypassed the entire security system to deliver flowers from far away.
"The leaves work well in a salad too. Sort of like mild Oregano." Logan was leaning in the doorway, looking at her with one of his expressions, the one that at a casual glance looked a bit frustrated, a bit unsettled, and it was only with a closer look that she discovered the faint smile, traces of amusement or pleasure in his face, in the twinkle of his pale eyes.
"The leaves... Logan, may I see your thumbs?" A suspicion had bloomed in her mind, like the sudden unfurling of a flower. How did he know what the leaves looked like?
With a small shrug, he held out his hands, inviting her to come closer, to enter his personal space if she wanted to look. "They're pretty normal thumbs, but if you really want..."
She lifted his hand with her own, examing his hand and particularly his thumbs with careful attention to detail. There were dozens of tiny scars over the backs of his fingers, straight lines as if... as if his metal claws had opened the skin on the backs of his fingers. There were calluses and ridges on his hands, hands that had known hard work. There was also a slight hint of dirt under the corner of his thumbnail, the same dark reddish soil that had been around the pot of blue flowers.
"Logan?" Her voice was full of questions that she couldn't even put words to, wondering how much of this man they had missed simply by not looking beneath the surface. He was more than simply a fighter, more than a slightly hostile man without a past. He was... Logan, and complex and baffling.
"Don't Goddesses always get fragrant offerings? The Professor's looking for you. Maybe you should see what he wants." There was a smile to his eyes as he spoke.
She nodded, and released his hand, which returned to his side very slowly. Walking down the hall, she paused, looking at him for a moment before speaking. "Logan? Thank you... for the flowers."
end But Who Was It?