((I do not own or take credit for marvels x-men or their world))

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A/N:

I also do not own many of the characters in this story as they are the creation of Auroraglass (except Torrent sorta).

-TwilightMus.

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I can see. That's my power. I see things.

Most people don't really bother. They glance, turn their head, but if nothing catches their eye they just move on.

Everything catches my eye. The way that the people around me see the world around them... they may as well be blind.

There is a beetle crawling accross the carpet below the book-shelf. No one seems to notice, and I can't not notice. I am keenly aware of how the light has been fading in and out from the bulb that will go out in about three days. It's almost like a strobe to me, but I don't think the others can tell the difference.

I should probably change the lightbulb.

I watched Fae do her nails the other day for an hour from three floors up, she was in her room with the door locked. I was fascinated by the way the paint reacted to the air as it dried. If I told her she would be uncomfortable, like I was spying. But even when I close my eyes... it would be like accusing someone of eavesdropping while you yell a conversation at them through a loud-speaker.

I see more than detail though. I see people... (not dead people)... Whenever Promethius lies the tension in her face muscles increases by a small percentage.
When Astra is checking me out he moves his head slightly away and his whole body exudes anxiety, he may as well hold up a big sign saying "I THINK YOUR HOT BUT I'M SCARED OF THE CONSIQUENCES OF ACTING ON MY FEELINGS". Idiot.

Torrent feels lonely, estranged. He feels left out and unwanted. When he tries to be included he practically flinches in anticipation. Then his eyebrows furrow, his hands clench slightly, he looks down and avoids eye contact. Not so much that anyone else could tell. But I do. Every time.

There's a colony of bacteria growing on that spoon melody is eating ice-cream with.

There are one hundred and ninety-eight pixel flaws in living-room wall-screen.

There are three hundred individual strands of hair in this brush.

There are exactly thirty two birds in the air, two hundred and nine nesting, five badgers, two dozen and one wild-deer, two mountain lions, sixteen hundred squirels, five hundred rabits, eight foxes, and somewhere near nine hundred thousand insects in a one mile radius around the mansion.

There are three million five thousand six hundred and eighty-nine nano-sentinals in the hand of the man Promethius just took into the reck-room for lunch.

My name is Eric Dawning.

But my friends call me Preview.