Greeting from The Lady Mage! Read and enjoy!
Legalities: I do not own Victor . . . yeah, yeah, rub it in why don'tcha? . . . Jerks . . .
FERITY: (fehr-it-ee) - (noun) - 1. The state of being wild or untamed. 2. The state of being savage; Ferocity.
RECAP:
She nodded once more. "J'attendrai. Nous attendrons. (I'll be waiting. We will be waiting.)" He grunted softly, letting her know he heard her and was pleased. When she turned back towards the three across the road, they were ready for her.
Jean smiled at her. "Come on, Zosia. It's cold out here."
She took her bag from Victor before taking the eight steps across the road, following the three to the gates. When Scott pushed the button to shut them, she turned and watched through them as Victor stepped back into the woods, listening to the crunch of snow as the blonde feral walked away.
They lead her up the gravel driveway to the mansion's large garage, and through it into the school. "We'll go down to the medbay." Jean said to her, pulling her jacket off and tossing it on the coatrack in the mudroom. Ororo and Scott followed suit. "You can get cleaned up down there without us waking up the rest of the school."
"I'll go and wake the professor." said Scott. "You'll be okay?" he looked pointedly at Jean. At her nod, he headed off down the hallway to the left.
Zosia followed the two women down the hall to the right, listening to them introduce themselves- the redhead as Dr. Jean Grey, the other as Ororo Monroe or Storm. They both sounded at ease as they spoke, their tone of voice guarded but accepting. At the far end of the hall, just beyond the grand staircase, Jean touched the wall, and a panel slid open, revealing a round elevator with ice-blue interior. Downstairs, they turned into a large room with three hospital examination tables in the center. There were five metal chairs lining the far wall, along with a small desk, chair, and computer console.
Inside the room, Jean walked to a little filing cabinet beside the desk, and pulled out a clipboard, pen, and slip of paper. Ororo went to take a seat on one of the chairs, crossing her legs. Zosia stood at the far end of the chairs, waiting, unsure what they expected of her or what to do.
"You can take a shower-" Jean walked to a door on the far wall, pulling it open to reveal a little bathroom. "-in here. I bet you're just dying to wash up." She opened a little linen closet just inside the door, pulling out a towel and washcloth, setting them on the counter by the sink.
The girl nodded, relaxing somewhat. "That would be lovely." Zosia said quietly, settling her pack on the chair next to her, but making no move to sit yet. She wasn't just terribly certain she could trust these two women, even though they hadn't shown any sign of aggression yet; she wasn't easily fooled.
"We'll go ahead and fill in your file before you get cleaned up, okay? Where are you from?" Ororo asked, taking the clipboard and pen from Jean. She wrote a few things on the chart there, then looked up to Zosia, expectantly, when she received no answer.
Zosia had pulled back her hood, letting her auburn hair tumble in a mass of loose curls down her back. She raked a delicately clawed hand through the wild strands in a vain attempt to tame them.
Jean stood next to Ororo's chair, watching.
The girl's skin was pale, but not deathly so, with just a light dusting of freckles across her nose, contrastingly prettily with her rich, red hair. Her eyelashes were long and dark, framing eyes so dark blue that they appeared black. Only the overhead lights reflecting in them revealed their true colour. Pretty child's-pout lips and high cheekbones only added to her charm, making her look to be about sixteen years old- possibly younger. And yet, something in her eyes made her seem much older.
"I do not know." Zosia finally said, answering the windrider's question as she undid the ties holding her cape closed around her torso.
"You don't know?" Ororo looked at her quizzically. "Did you have a bad family? Are you a runaway?"
Zosia paused, unknotting the last tie. "I meant what I said; I don't know." she repeated. "I don't think I have a family outside of the Brotherhood."
The windrider looked unconvinced. "Alright. Then where were you before the Brotherhood came along?"
"I don't know."
Scowling slightly, Ororo looked up to Jean, then over to Zosia. "How old are you?"
"I don't know." She glanced at the two. "When the professor comes down, and he reads the letter, I will tell you what I know." The mutant girl pulled her cape away, laying it over her satchel on the chair. Beneath it, she wore jeans tucked into her knee-high, homemade leather boots, and a brown hoodie several sizes too large.
A strip of black flannel was fastened over the girl's neck and one shoulder, with a strip of gray fur around it. She gently shifted it to a more comfortable place against her neck, and the movement in the fabric startled the two watching women. Curiosity prompted them to come a little closer to see just what had moved. Jean stepped back in surprise as a tiny fist reached out from the warm furs. The little claw-tipped fingers and soft mewling sounds told them that it was definitely a baby, and most likely it's mother was the barely tame feral standing before them.
"Oh my." Ororo murmured, stepping closer still, head down as she looked at the bundle bunched against its mother's chest. She looked up into Zoe's eyes before reaching out to pull aside the strip of fur so she could see the baby's face.
"How old is the baby?" Jean asked, reaching out to touch the sling. Zoe pulled back, arms crossed possessively over the baby, growling softly. "Is it your's?"
The feral hardly paid the telekine's words any mind, lifting the bundle from the sling, laying the baby on her shoulder so she could pull the sling off. It was placed on top of the cape and bag, before Zosia sat in the chair next to it. She held her in the crook of her arm, gently pulling away the white blanket so the cub could breathe better. Exposed to the light and cooler air in the room, the babe let out a tired cry as it woke up. "She is mine." Zosia said softly, but with a slight edge to her voice. "She was a week old yesterday."
"A week, hmm?" The telekine wrote out her notes. "Well, no wonder you didn't go with the others to the Statue of Liberty."
Zosia glared at Jean for a few seconds, opening her mouth to say something else, but the infant let out another whimper, taking her attention from defending her actions to defending her cub. She lifted the baby out of the white blanket, leaning back in the chair and laying her cub on her chest, tucking baby's head beneath her chin.
"May I see?" Jean asked the girl, watching the pair curiously.
The feral scented her suspicion. She glared again for a moment, processing the clueless reaction of the redhead. Finally, she gave a curt nod. "Sur. (Sure.)" Zosia leaned forward, easing her daughter down into her arms. The baby was a little small for a week old, but not scrawny, with her mother's skintone. A thick, wavy shock of hair, the same rich auburn as her mother's, covered her head. Her little eyes were closed, her lashes long and thick, curling onto her cheeks. Her lips were a cherub's pout, but her little chin had a dimple in it where Zosia's did not. She'd been dressed in a pale pink long-sleeved onesie, with little white fleece pants, and white socks to cover her feet, and the whole outfit seemed to swallow her.
"Aww." Jean smiled. "What's her name?"
"Sari." Zosia answered. "Sari Creed." She still watched the telekine, pulling Sari back to the crook of her arm. The movement caused the baby to stir, one little arm twitching. Instead of crying out, she blinked open her dark eyes. Like her mother, there was hardly any visible white, but unlike Zosia, Sari's eyes were dark, dark brown.
"Oh, look at those eyes." commented Storm. "Is she a mutant, too?"
Zosia nodded. She felt a little safer now, not fearing that either woman would try to hurt her or little Sari- 'Perhaps the telekine is just totally clueless?'- and gave the windrider a small smile. She scooted over into the chair next to Storm, letting the woman have a closer look. "She is feral." Zosia said, her voice still soft, putting Sari's little hand on the back of her own so that they could see the resemblance. "Like her father and I."
"Oh, claws!" Storm said, reaching out, running her finger down the sharp tip of Zoe's thumbclaw. Though they were the same pink and white as anyone else's, each nail had a raised ridge running down from the cuticle, growing past the nail-bed into small, but razor-sharp, claws. Sari's hand was the same, but her claws had been filed down dull to keep her from scratching herself.
Sari's eyes fluttered open and closed again, and the new position under the light lit her eyes, displaying for a few seconds the feline pupils hidden in the dark colour. The lights were irritating, and she let everyone know as she scrunched her little face, whimpering loudly once, then releasing another irritated cry.
"Much too early to wake up, mon Amour." Zosia crooned to her, moving Sari back onto her chest. "Du arme Babykatze . . (You poor baby cat.)" she murmured in German, then switched back to her native tongue. "Est-il trop lumineux dedans ici pour toi? (Is it too bright in here for you?)" Mother's voice seemed to soothe the baby, and she settled down against her, too tired to put up much more fuss.
"Are you still going to get cleaned up?" Jean asked, redirecting her attention from child to mother. The young feral nodded. "Would you like us to watch Sari for you while you bathe?"
The feral snorted, shaking her head no. Letting them see her daughter was one thing, but touching her was another. She'd never let anyone other than Victor or her siblings hold Sari, and she'd never been out of the same room as her. She knew she was overprotective, but it was instinctual for her to be so- even Victor had confirmed it, and let her do what she felt was best for the cub. Not that she expected him to be terribly active in the babycare aspect of fatherhood, but he had held their cub- gently, as though she were made of porcelain. Zosia shook her head once, her eyes still watching Jean skeptically. "I can manage."
"Okay." Jean felt the pang of emotion at the mention of separating mother and child; she felt it would be better to simply drop it.
Zosia make a little bed on the chair beside her, laying the baby on her folded cape. This time, the baby remained asleep, her little hands clutching into the fabric of her blanket. "Thank you, though, for the offer." said the girl to be polite, reaching down to begin unlacing her boots. She kicked them off, then pulled off her socks and tucked them down inside. The claws on her hands were mirrored on her feet, but were not as long, dulled off to accomodate shoes. She stood up, putting her boots down next to her other things, then pulled off the brown hoodie, leaving her in dark jeans and a dark blue camisole top.
"What did you do to your hip?" Jean asked, sitting next to Ororo to see the sleeping infant better. She playfully ignored the poke in the ribs from the weather witch.
"Hmm?" Zoe turned to the two of them, her hand reflexively coming up to the ball-chain necklace around her neck.
"I'm sorry- I thought ferals had healing abilities." Jean said, pointing to the girl's hip.
Zosia looked at her, confused, before she pulled her cami up on the left side, revealing a set of little stars branded onto her skin, running up her side from the waist of her lowrise jeans. Two stars were visible, each perfectly healed into crisp thin lines a shade lighter than her skintone. They were two inches tall, and two inches apart, the top one level with her navel. "My stars?" she asked. "I make them stay."
"Did you do those yourself?" Jean asked, seeing that they were a design, and not a battle wound.
"Mystique did them for me." Zosia answered, pushing the waist of her pants down under her hip, revealing a third star. "I've got three- one for every year I've been awake."
"Awake?" Ororo asked.
Nodding, the feral pulled her jeans back up. "I will explain it when the professeur comes down."
"How do you make them stay?"
"I'm not sure, really. I suppose force of will. If you will excuse me, I'm going to clean up now." She leaned down to her bag, pulling a wad of clothing from it to change into when she got out of the shower. She also grabbed a diaper and white onesie, adding it to her clothing. Tucking the fabric under one arm, she carefully lifted Sari up to her shoulder, then quietly excused herself into the bathroom to clean up.
Well, what did you think? Good? Bad? Tell me in a review!
The Lady Mage