When She Made Fire (PG)
When She Made Fire
Rating: PG
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Gambit, Storm (Gambit/Storm if you squint), Pyro, mentions Wolverine and Xavier
Word Count: 836
Notes: beta’d by tokenblkgirl Inspired by “When She Made Fire” by Alexandra Hollander Budy
Summary: Last night he saw an angel.
When she made water
She was tiny dot against the sky, surveying her earth and calming the rivers she’d overflowed. She brushed grateful fingers across the branches of trees that had sacrificed their limbs to her noble cause. He waited on the damp ground, mud soaking the hem of his pants and his back burning with the steady ache of a fight they never should have won. Everyone else left hours ago, even Logan who’d taken to watching “Ro” when she wasn’t looking. But Remy stayed, waited while she finished the nurturing ritual.
The weather reminded him of home. He told her that once, that whenever the rain came he had a craving for something sweet and some hot bitter coffee to wash it down with. She told him that it was supposed to wash everything clean. He told her that things tend to settle in water, “bad things you don’t want squirming around your big toe chere.” But that it was okay, because sometimes he liked to settle too.
When she came down he asked if she were up for it; no talking, just a little something shady for old times sake. She said yes, but that it was the absolute last time. And he lied because she needed to believe it. Like thinking the rain washed everything clean.
When she made snow
Remy didn’t believe in ghosts. But when it’s that cold with nothing but white powder all around you, your own shadow starts to look out of place. There’s no right and left, or up and down. The ground’s the same color as the sky and the wind starts to howl inside your ears. Sometimes it speaks to you. The scariest part is when you listen.
Eventually he stopped walking. That small bit of reasonableness huddled for warmth in the recesses of his mind knew it was a good way to freeze to death. But he was tired of making tracks that were swallowed up two seconds later and pushing against a wall of wind that seemed to get a kick out of smothering his pitiful attempts to breathe.
He should turn back. It was her goddamn blizzard anyway. Maybe she didn’t want to be found.
When she made fire
When it was over she’d claim it just got away from her. That the kid had tried to warp whatever she’d done and that’s the reason he burned for so long. But Remy saw that look in her eyes when he started taunting, tossing that fireball back and forth in his hands like a chew toy for a stray puppy. He said that even with all that lightning, she didn’t really know how to burn.
“Let me teach you.”
He’d tried. Remy had to give him that, he’d put his back into those flames, even singed her a bit before she’d snatched them from his hands. Her wind funneled all his heat until the fire cowered, bowed before its new master before it leapt back to the pale faced boy that made it. Remy watched her eyes glaze into that spooky, milky white when Pyro started to scream.
“Didn’t know you could do that,” he said after, when she was crouched and trembling on the ground, her skin hot enough to boil the sweat off her body. She didn’t look up and took her time before asking, “Do what?”
“You got the fire in you chere,” he said. “Not like the boy, but-”
“I have nothing Gambit.” She looked at him or right through him if he was honest. “When are you going to realize that none of this is mine?”
When she made the storm
Last night he saw an angel. Her arms were stretched against the sky while she watched the earth shiver. He heard her voice tell the clouds that there was no time to rest and they spit rapid bolts of lightening, eager to prove their worth. And then the moon shifted; jealousy luminous and used the ocean to prove its fealty. Tidal waves rose and dangled, waiting for her permission to wash it all away.
She could save them. She could blow the clouds away with a soft whisper and calm the waves into harmless puddles with a wave of her hand. Or she could decide she’d had enough. That the whole world had enough and wouldn’t it be better to just start it all over again? Maybe this time we’d be a little less careless.
The men beside him had fallen to their knees, head bowed and worshipped their goddess, their weather witch, or in the case of Xavier, the proof of their goodness personified. But Remy stared upward, toward the sky and found her eyes in the middle of all that beautiful madness. She’d winked at him, his Stormy. And then she saved the world with a wave of her hand.
Not a goddess or weather witch, or even a hero molded by the genius with a golden heart. Last night he saw an angel.
Rating: PG
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Gambit, Storm (Gambit/Storm if you squint), Pyro, mentions Wolverine and Xavier
Word Count: 836
Notes: beta’d by tokenblkgirl Inspired by “When She Made Fire” by Alexandra Hollander Budy
Summary: Last night he saw an angel.
When she made water
She was tiny dot against the sky, surveying her earth and calming the rivers she’d overflowed. She brushed grateful fingers across the branches of trees that had sacrificed their limbs to her noble cause. He waited on the damp ground, mud soaking the hem of his pants and his back burning with the steady ache of a fight they never should have won. Everyone else left hours ago, even Logan who’d taken to watching “Ro” when she wasn’t looking. But Remy stayed, waited while she finished the nurturing ritual.
The weather reminded him of home. He told her that once, that whenever the rain came he had a craving for something sweet and some hot bitter coffee to wash it down with. She told him that it was supposed to wash everything clean. He told her that things tend to settle in water, “bad things you don’t want squirming around your big toe chere.” But that it was okay, because sometimes he liked to settle too.
When she came down he asked if she were up for it; no talking, just a little something shady for old times sake. She said yes, but that it was the absolute last time. And he lied because she needed to believe it. Like thinking the rain washed everything clean.
When she made snow
Remy didn’t believe in ghosts. But when it’s that cold with nothing but white powder all around you, your own shadow starts to look out of place. There’s no right and left, or up and down. The ground’s the same color as the sky and the wind starts to howl inside your ears. Sometimes it speaks to you. The scariest part is when you listen.
Eventually he stopped walking. That small bit of reasonableness huddled for warmth in the recesses of his mind knew it was a good way to freeze to death. But he was tired of making tracks that were swallowed up two seconds later and pushing against a wall of wind that seemed to get a kick out of smothering his pitiful attempts to breathe.
He should turn back. It was her goddamn blizzard anyway. Maybe she didn’t want to be found.
When she made fire
When it was over she’d claim it just got away from her. That the kid had tried to warp whatever she’d done and that’s the reason he burned for so long. But Remy saw that look in her eyes when he started taunting, tossing that fireball back and forth in his hands like a chew toy for a stray puppy. He said that even with all that lightning, she didn’t really know how to burn.
“Let me teach you.”
He’d tried. Remy had to give him that, he’d put his back into those flames, even singed her a bit before she’d snatched them from his hands. Her wind funneled all his heat until the fire cowered, bowed before its new master before it leapt back to the pale faced boy that made it. Remy watched her eyes glaze into that spooky, milky white when Pyro started to scream.
“Didn’t know you could do that,” he said after, when she was crouched and trembling on the ground, her skin hot enough to boil the sweat off her body. She didn’t look up and took her time before asking, “Do what?”
“You got the fire in you chere,” he said. “Not like the boy, but-”
“I have nothing Gambit.” She looked at him or right through him if he was honest. “When are you going to realize that none of this is mine?”
When she made the storm
Last night he saw an angel. Her arms were stretched against the sky while she watched the earth shiver. He heard her voice tell the clouds that there was no time to rest and they spit rapid bolts of lightening, eager to prove their worth. And then the moon shifted; jealousy luminous and used the ocean to prove its fealty. Tidal waves rose and dangled, waiting for her permission to wash it all away.
She could save them. She could blow the clouds away with a soft whisper and calm the waves into harmless puddles with a wave of her hand. Or she could decide she’d had enough. That the whole world had enough and wouldn’t it be better to just start it all over again? Maybe this time we’d be a little less careless.
The men beside him had fallen to their knees, head bowed and worshipped their goddess, their weather witch, or in the case of Xavier, the proof of their goodness personified. But Remy stared upward, toward the sky and found her eyes in the middle of all that beautiful madness. She’d winked at him, his Stormy. And then she saved the world with a wave of her hand.
Not a goddess or weather witch, or even a hero molded by the genius with a golden heart. Last night he saw an angel.