You're in my stars, you know; don't need no crystal ball to tell me so.
TITLE: Stolen Tarts - Second Match
FANDOM: X-Men 616 Comicverse AU (X-Men 919)
CHARACTERS: Riley LeBeau, Andrew Raven
RATING: Pre-Teen [Allusions to death/violence.]
SUMMARY: It all comes down to death, lovers, and a deck of cards.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: In honour of Valentine's day, this is a ficlet I wrote while working on “Stolen Tarts” for fulguratus as a gift for casting the entire universe. I figure she won't mind if I share it with all of y'all now. I give you a little something-something you can either consider part of the 919 canon (after “Stolen Tarts” but before the upcoming “Stolen Tarts - Sibling Rivalry”), or just a chunk featuring the characters that’s a Valentine’s gift to you all.
“Tell me about you.”
Easy question. A loaded one too. Riley frowned, thinking about how best to answer. She fell back on the cards waiting in her hand, pulling three from the deck. Bending them into soft tent shapes, she set them on the table and moved them around in a perfect street-hustler three card monty. When her hands stopped moving in the practiced motions, she spread her hands, turning the ‘game’ over to Andrew.
He flipped the first card over.
“That’s you,” he said, indicating the Queen of Hearts that now looked up at them.
Next was the Jack. Same suit. The uncomfortable familiarity (a card just like that still sat on his bedside table, right next to where he kept his gloves at night) came and passed quickly.
“That’s me.”
“Knave o’hearts,” she smiled wanly back. “ ‘Propriate, non?”
Last was the King of Hearts.
“So who’s he then?”
It took a moment for her to reply.
“His name was Bernard. Was an arranged marriage, but we were crazy for each other.”
She sighed, tapping at the image so as to indicate the sword impaling him.
“Died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Our families are --” she searched for the word. “Different. Risks come with the last names. We both knew.”
Andrew considered for a moment, looking at the three cards lying on the table. King, Queen, Jack.
“The Jack’s a step down in the deck from the King, isn’t it?” He pushed both cards towards her. “This mean I’m your next best thing?”
“I think you are happy in this second match, for it excels your first,” she murmured.
“How’s Paris supposed to compete with Romeo, Riley?”
“An’ the boy knows his Shakespeare too,” she grinned a little sadly, picking up the King. A thought had the card glowing bright crimson, then disintegrating to ash. “Romeo’s dead. Nothing to compete with anymore.”
“But Paris ends up that way too. And he never got the girl either.”
“S’how the story goes.”
Andrew removed one of his gloves to run his hand through the ash, rubbing his fingers together and feeling the gritty paper texture falling further apart with the encouragement.
“Not exactly an encouraging ending. Especially when Romeo gets tossed aside like that.”
“Not especially,” she admitted, shifting the Jack and Queen so they rested right next to one another. “But that ain’t our story, is it?”
“So what is our story then?”
“We’re writing it.”
“How about the ending?” he asked. “There’s not a real strong precedent for happy endings in this sort of story.”
Picking up the Queen and Jack, she handed them both over to Andrew with a more genuine smile than he’d seen so far during this conversation.
“We’re X-Men, cher. We make our own endings.”
-Fin-
FANDOM: X-Men 616 Comicverse AU (X-Men 919)
CHARACTERS: Riley LeBeau, Andrew Raven
RATING: Pre-Teen [Allusions to death/violence.]
SUMMARY: It all comes down to death, lovers, and a deck of cards.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: In honour of Valentine's day, this is a ficlet I wrote while working on “Stolen Tarts” for fulguratus as a gift for casting the entire universe. I figure she won't mind if I share it with all of y'all now. I give you a little something-something you can either consider part of the 919 canon (after “Stolen Tarts” but before the upcoming “Stolen Tarts - Sibling Rivalry”), or just a chunk featuring the characters that’s a Valentine’s gift to you all.
“Tell me about you.”
Easy question. A loaded one too. Riley frowned, thinking about how best to answer. She fell back on the cards waiting in her hand, pulling three from the deck. Bending them into soft tent shapes, she set them on the table and moved them around in a perfect street-hustler three card monty. When her hands stopped moving in the practiced motions, she spread her hands, turning the ‘game’ over to Andrew.
He flipped the first card over.
“That’s you,” he said, indicating the Queen of Hearts that now looked up at them.
Next was the Jack. Same suit. The uncomfortable familiarity (a card just like that still sat on his bedside table, right next to where he kept his gloves at night) came and passed quickly.
“That’s me.”
“Knave o’hearts,” she smiled wanly back. “ ‘Propriate, non?”
Last was the King of Hearts.
“So who’s he then?”
It took a moment for her to reply.
“His name was Bernard. Was an arranged marriage, but we were crazy for each other.”
She sighed, tapping at the image so as to indicate the sword impaling him.
“Died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Our families are --” she searched for the word. “Different. Risks come with the last names. We both knew.”
Andrew considered for a moment, looking at the three cards lying on the table. King, Queen, Jack.
“The Jack’s a step down in the deck from the King, isn’t it?” He pushed both cards towards her. “This mean I’m your next best thing?”
“I think you are happy in this second match, for it excels your first,” she murmured.
“How’s Paris supposed to compete with Romeo, Riley?”
“An’ the boy knows his Shakespeare too,” she grinned a little sadly, picking up the King. A thought had the card glowing bright crimson, then disintegrating to ash. “Romeo’s dead. Nothing to compete with anymore.”
“But Paris ends up that way too. And he never got the girl either.”
“S’how the story goes.”
Andrew removed one of his gloves to run his hand through the ash, rubbing his fingers together and feeling the gritty paper texture falling further apart with the encouragement.
“Not exactly an encouraging ending. Especially when Romeo gets tossed aside like that.”
“Not especially,” she admitted, shifting the Jack and Queen so they rested right next to one another. “But that ain’t our story, is it?”
“So what is our story then?”
“We’re writing it.”
“How about the ending?” he asked. “There’s not a real strong precedent for happy endings in this sort of story.”
Picking up the Queen and Jack, she handed them both over to Andrew with a more genuine smile than he’d seen so far during this conversation.
“We’re X-Men, cher. We make our own endings.”
-Fin-