You tell me that it's evolution
Characters: Iris and whomever
Date&Time: August 1, afternoon
Setting: In the kitchen
Summary: Funny how those secondary mutations sneak up on you sometimes.
Rating: We'll say PG-13 for swearing, I guess
Status: Open to Multiples
There were dozens of tables in the mansion, some of them large enough that Iris could have spread out nearly everything she owned on them. But she'd grown particularly fond of the small table, able to seat four only by the convention of its geometry, that stood near one corner of the kitchen. So it was here that she'd settled with a glass of water and some old newspapers, combing idly through it for anything of interest. Keeping tabs on the world had fallen to the wayside lately, and in some misguided attempt to be a responsible adult (or at least somewhat resemble one), she decided to spend the afternoon reading up on what she'd missed. Most of it was expected; political posturing between the superpowers, the premiere of some fabulous new movie. But there was one small column, buried in the back of one edition on the "Science" page, that caught her eye.
First Extra Solar X-Rays Found
At first, she wasn't quite sure if she should be excited or annoyed. After all, it was a landmark achievement, even if it was a fact she'd known for several years. In fact, she could point out several sources of x-rays in the night sky, in addition to loads of other spectroscopic discoveries that she'd made, all with just a plain telescope and the naked eye. Her naked eye, the one that turned rainbow and opened up the world to her in ways she could never share. The more she thought about it, the more resentment she began to feel for those monkeys in Massachusetts who'd simply tossed a detector into the sky and got lucky. Without even meaning to, she blinked and the world came ablaze in unnatural color, purple flooding in from the late afternoon sun, washing over the visible spectrum. Her fists were clenching and unclenching, an unconscious habit she'd developed, and she stared at them for a moment, transfixed. There had been something there, something she'd never seen before. Slowly, she opened her hands, watching as a nearly invisible ripple of microwave energy cascaded out from her palms, the waves long and languid. Her bitterness had quickly turned to intrigue, a bemused smirk turning up one corner of her mouth as she closed her hands into fists again, watching the waves shorten until the frequency was nearly imperceptible. She repeated the motion, watching the microwaves respond in kind, again and again and again, until she couldn't help but laugh in delight.
Returning her sight to normal, she reached for her water, not seeing the steam that was now rising from it, but feeling the rather immediate jolt of pain as the hot glass pressed against her palm. With a yelp, she dropped it, sending glass and water flying across the floor.
"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, doing her best to avoid the hazards as she moved to run her hand under cool water from the sink. First aid more or less attended to, she turned to survey the mess with a heavy sigh. The glass really was everywhere, and she bleakly congratulated herself on effectively turning the tiled floor into an obstacle course. Trying her best to keep her hand, now a tender shade of pink, under the water, she looked around for the broom and dustpan, hoping they were near by.
So much for her leisurely afternoon.
Date&Time: August 1, afternoon
Setting: In the kitchen
Summary: Funny how those secondary mutations sneak up on you sometimes.
Rating: We'll say PG-13 for swearing, I guess
Status: Open to Multiples
There were dozens of tables in the mansion, some of them large enough that Iris could have spread out nearly everything she owned on them. But she'd grown particularly fond of the small table, able to seat four only by the convention of its geometry, that stood near one corner of the kitchen. So it was here that she'd settled with a glass of water and some old newspapers, combing idly through it for anything of interest. Keeping tabs on the world had fallen to the wayside lately, and in some misguided attempt to be a responsible adult (or at least somewhat resemble one), she decided to spend the afternoon reading up on what she'd missed. Most of it was expected; political posturing between the superpowers, the premiere of some fabulous new movie. But there was one small column, buried in the back of one edition on the "Science" page, that caught her eye.
First Extra Solar X-Rays Found
At first, she wasn't quite sure if she should be excited or annoyed. After all, it was a landmark achievement, even if it was a fact she'd known for several years. In fact, she could point out several sources of x-rays in the night sky, in addition to loads of other spectroscopic discoveries that she'd made, all with just a plain telescope and the naked eye. Her naked eye, the one that turned rainbow and opened up the world to her in ways she could never share. The more she thought about it, the more resentment she began to feel for those monkeys in Massachusetts who'd simply tossed a detector into the sky and got lucky. Without even meaning to, she blinked and the world came ablaze in unnatural color, purple flooding in from the late afternoon sun, washing over the visible spectrum. Her fists were clenching and unclenching, an unconscious habit she'd developed, and she stared at them for a moment, transfixed. There had been something there, something she'd never seen before. Slowly, she opened her hands, watching as a nearly invisible ripple of microwave energy cascaded out from her palms, the waves long and languid. Her bitterness had quickly turned to intrigue, a bemused smirk turning up one corner of her mouth as she closed her hands into fists again, watching the waves shorten until the frequency was nearly imperceptible. She repeated the motion, watching the microwaves respond in kind, again and again and again, until she couldn't help but laugh in delight.
Returning her sight to normal, she reached for her water, not seeing the steam that was now rising from it, but feeling the rather immediate jolt of pain as the hot glass pressed against her palm. With a yelp, she dropped it, sending glass and water flying across the floor.
"Shit, shit, shit," she muttered, doing her best to avoid the hazards as she moved to run her hand under cool water from the sink. First aid more or less attended to, she turned to survey the mess with a heavy sigh. The glass really was everywhere, and she bleakly congratulated herself on effectively turning the tiled floor into an obstacle course. Trying her best to keep her hand, now a tender shade of pink, under the water, she looked around for the broom and dustpan, hoping they were near by.
So much for her leisurely afternoon.