author: Lucinda
rating: pg
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan
Third in 'Fragrant Offerings'
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
Ororo retreated to the greenhouse, fussing over her newly transplanted flowers. The flowers that Logan had given her. Of all the people that she had considered, Logan had barely made the list. But really, that was only because... because... well, none of them really knew very much about him. He was a skilled fighter, protective of those he considered his, and annoyed Scott with ease. But other than that... Little more than the fact that somebody had implanted metal into his body, and he had a healing factor. That was really not much about a person, more like a snapshot than a biography.
Logan had been with them for months, how had nobody managed to learn anything about him? Had nobody made the slightest effort to learn who Logan was? What sort of man lurked beneath the wild hair and wary disposition? Had nobody been willing to offer him even simple friendship? Well, Marie had, to an extent. At first, the girl had a crush on Logan, but his several months of absence had permitted that to fade, mutating into something more like a family feeling. Logan was something of an uncle, or perhaps a father figure for Marie now, which was causing Bobby some concern. But, other than Marie...
She would have to fix that situation. If nobody else had tried to learn about Logan, then she would. The man was a puzzle, wrapped up in tension and emotions. But then, hadn't the Professor mentioned something about missing memories? If he didn't know his past, didn't remember who or why he'd gotten the adamantium in his bones, wouldn't that make him uneasy? Wouldn't it make anyone uneasy to just... wake up, with no past, no family, and the utter certainty that you were not the same as everyone else? No wonder he was wary about opening up. Which simply meant that it would take longer. Hopefully, those flowers meant that he wouldn't mind spending time with her...
All she needed was a plan. Shaking her head, she left the greenhouse, walking along a path at the edge of the woods. The mansion was still in sight, at least most of the time, but it was far enough that it seemed peaceful, almost tranquil. As she turned along the path, there was a small open area, but it wasn't exactly empty. Logan was there, shirtless, with a pair of swords. Japanese blades, the steel swishing through the air as he moved through a pattern. He looked magnificent.
When had Logan learned to move like that? His muscles rippled, a faint sheen of sweat almost making him gleam. He wasn't faltering, or trying to show off... With anyone but Logan, she would say that he would have no idea that she was even here. But his apparent skill... it was like watching someone from a martial arts movie. Ororo just stood there, watching with a smile on her face. Maybe her appreciation wasn't just for the smoothness of his motion, or the pattern of light flashing from the sword... perhaps he did look quite appealing. Oh, there really wasn't a 'perhaps' about it. Logan looked good, and she knew it.
Eventually, his pattern came to an end, and Logan carefully slid the blades into sheaths, which had been laying in the grass. He looked at her, a small smile sliding over his face. "Afternoon, 'Ro."
"Logan... where did you... that was amazing." She could feel herself blushing as the words tumbled out.
He made a shrug, and there was a shadow that flickered through his eyes. "I'm not sure where or when I learned it. Just... before fifteen years ago. But thanks. I have the feeling that I had a very good teacher, somewhere in my past."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Ororo felt like kicking herself. Hadn't she only minutes earlier been thinking how awkward it must be not remembering? "Thank you for the flowers."
"You're welcome, the flowers suit you. And I saw you admiring them so much..." He shook his head, letting those words fall away. "It isn't your fault that I can't remember. And if I knew, I'd tell you that much at least. There are things that I know, phrases that sound familiar, and I have no idea when I learned them, or why I recognize it. Damn frustrating at times, but... nobody has a perfect life."
She reached out, her fingertips sliding over his arm, noting the nearly imperceptible lines of scars that crossed over, some thin lines, others like holes, and still more that were jagged tears or arcs, as if from animal bites. "No, you haven't had a perfect life, or a particularly peaceful one. But Logan, you are a mystery. A delightfully baffling mystery with only a few hints as to what might be inside."
"Aren't you the one who keeps reading all the mystery books at the mansion?" There was a twinkle in his eyes, something cheerful, almost playful.
She smiled, her own eyes playful. "I love a good mystery."
His eyes darkened, and he looked at her, as if searching for something, some answer to a question that only he knew. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile, one that seemed too powerful, to primal to use the word 'smile' to describe. There was emotion, joy, an awareness, and something that was almost a challenge. "Maybe you can help figure me out."
Heat spread across her face, and it suddenly seemed harder to breathe. "I think I might like that."
end Fragrant Offerings: Mystery.
rating: pg
Main Characters: Movie-verse Ororo, Logan
Third in 'Fragrant Offerings'
disclaimer: not mine. Nobody from Marvel is mine.
distribution: please ask first.
Ororo retreated to the greenhouse, fussing over her newly transplanted flowers. The flowers that Logan had given her. Of all the people that she had considered, Logan had barely made the list. But really, that was only because... because... well, none of them really knew very much about him. He was a skilled fighter, protective of those he considered his, and annoyed Scott with ease. But other than that... Little more than the fact that somebody had implanted metal into his body, and he had a healing factor. That was really not much about a person, more like a snapshot than a biography.
Logan had been with them for months, how had nobody managed to learn anything about him? Had nobody made the slightest effort to learn who Logan was? What sort of man lurked beneath the wild hair and wary disposition? Had nobody been willing to offer him even simple friendship? Well, Marie had, to an extent. At first, the girl had a crush on Logan, but his several months of absence had permitted that to fade, mutating into something more like a family feeling. Logan was something of an uncle, or perhaps a father figure for Marie now, which was causing Bobby some concern. But, other than Marie...
She would have to fix that situation. If nobody else had tried to learn about Logan, then she would. The man was a puzzle, wrapped up in tension and emotions. But then, hadn't the Professor mentioned something about missing memories? If he didn't know his past, didn't remember who or why he'd gotten the adamantium in his bones, wouldn't that make him uneasy? Wouldn't it make anyone uneasy to just... wake up, with no past, no family, and the utter certainty that you were not the same as everyone else? No wonder he was wary about opening up. Which simply meant that it would take longer. Hopefully, those flowers meant that he wouldn't mind spending time with her...
All she needed was a plan. Shaking her head, she left the greenhouse, walking along a path at the edge of the woods. The mansion was still in sight, at least most of the time, but it was far enough that it seemed peaceful, almost tranquil. As she turned along the path, there was a small open area, but it wasn't exactly empty. Logan was there, shirtless, with a pair of swords. Japanese blades, the steel swishing through the air as he moved through a pattern. He looked magnificent.
When had Logan learned to move like that? His muscles rippled, a faint sheen of sweat almost making him gleam. He wasn't faltering, or trying to show off... With anyone but Logan, she would say that he would have no idea that she was even here. But his apparent skill... it was like watching someone from a martial arts movie. Ororo just stood there, watching with a smile on her face. Maybe her appreciation wasn't just for the smoothness of his motion, or the pattern of light flashing from the sword... perhaps he did look quite appealing. Oh, there really wasn't a 'perhaps' about it. Logan looked good, and she knew it.
Eventually, his pattern came to an end, and Logan carefully slid the blades into sheaths, which had been laying in the grass. He looked at her, a small smile sliding over his face. "Afternoon, 'Ro."
"Logan... where did you... that was amazing." She could feel herself blushing as the words tumbled out.
He made a shrug, and there was a shadow that flickered through his eyes. "I'm not sure where or when I learned it. Just... before fifteen years ago. But thanks. I have the feeling that I had a very good teacher, somewhere in my past."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Ororo felt like kicking herself. Hadn't she only minutes earlier been thinking how awkward it must be not remembering? "Thank you for the flowers."
"You're welcome, the flowers suit you. And I saw you admiring them so much..." He shook his head, letting those words fall away. "It isn't your fault that I can't remember. And if I knew, I'd tell you that much at least. There are things that I know, phrases that sound familiar, and I have no idea when I learned them, or why I recognize it. Damn frustrating at times, but... nobody has a perfect life."
She reached out, her fingertips sliding over his arm, noting the nearly imperceptible lines of scars that crossed over, some thin lines, others like holes, and still more that were jagged tears or arcs, as if from animal bites. "No, you haven't had a perfect life, or a particularly peaceful one. But Logan, you are a mystery. A delightfully baffling mystery with only a few hints as to what might be inside."
"Aren't you the one who keeps reading all the mystery books at the mansion?" There was a twinkle in his eyes, something cheerful, almost playful.
She smiled, her own eyes playful. "I love a good mystery."
His eyes darkened, and he looked at her, as if searching for something, some answer to a question that only he knew. Slowly, his lips curved into a smile, one that seemed too powerful, to primal to use the word 'smile' to describe. There was emotion, joy, an awareness, and something that was almost a challenge. "Maybe you can help figure me out."
Heat spread across her face, and it suddenly seemed harder to breathe. "I think I might like that."
end Fragrant Offerings: Mystery.