It was a strange change, to see Emma dressed in somber colors. Even after two years of marriage she went for flashier things. Behind her, Logan had Jubilee wrapped in a make-shift straight-jacket of blankets. She was still far too pale in Emma's opinion.
It was more than Emma or Logan could handle, it was time for back-up.
They made it through the Nexus without incident, to everyone's relief. Emma had to stop for directions once, but finally found herself in front of the wagon.
Logan hung back in the shadows while Emma went up to knock on the door.
Through the door a pair of voices can be heard chatting - Yeh, yeh, don't fret, darlin'. - Don't darlin' me you great mangy, son of ...*mffrflurk* Shut it, we've company.
The door opens and Trixie is standing there grinning. "Howdy ma'am. Just having a chat with my, heh, associate."
Under any other circumstances, Emma would have made some sort of snide comment. She even opens her mouth to start one. Her jaws snap shut with a click of teeth.
"We spoke the other day, about my charge being marked by a vampire." She moved aside to show the woman Logan with the girl in his arms. "The situation has grown rather dire."
"Aww, shit-brindle. Yeh. I can smell it from here. Bring the girl in, I'll put Bob in his bucket." She leaves the door open and goes back to the, ah, 'associate'.
Logan moves forward first, hoping his considerable weight wouldn't tip the damned wagon. It looks far too fragile for his peace of mind.
Logan pulls Jubilee closer to his chest when he gets a look around. They were going to break something that had been in the girl's family for generations and she'd throw an unholy fit. The scenario unfolds in his brain like a mental movie.
She's busy getting her supplies ready and putting Bob in his Quiet-Time bucket. Bob, her 'associate', is a human skull with some sort of small, eternally chatty air-spirit in it. Little bastard.
Logan lays the girl down gently, double checking her bindings and her pulse. She hasn't woken since she's shredded her wrists. Her accelerated healing kept her from dying, but her mind seemed to be completely gone.
Emma perched on what she assumed was a counter, out of the way of anything remotely useful looking. Logan still looked like -- what was that phrase Rogue liked to use? "A long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."
"You're not going to tip the wagon, Wolverine. Sit."
Trixie gets to work - she sprinkles a little salt on the floor and her wards flare into power. A little oil on Jubilee's forehead and she can start to figure out just how deep this problem is.
Trixie frowns and clucks her tongue. Yep, this'll take some work. She starts to light candles - white and blue - and the air gets thick with the smell of incense.
Sharp scents wrap around her in misty tendrils, holding her back, keep her from taking another step. On the outside, her nose starts to twitch and she turns her head away.
She doesn't want to come out. She wants to go in.
Inside, she fights against the scent, trying to slough the tendrils of smoke from her wrists.
Trixie sits on the floor beside Lee and starts to sew small scraps of fabric together - this will help pull the parts of her mind and soul back together. Stitches for the psyche.
The first things she remembers are her kids. Their old and wary eyes, the way they eat with their elbows on the table and bowls close to their faces so they can see what's going on around them.
They eat so quickly, it's almost painful to watch. It's like they're afraid the food will be taken away any minute. Her heart breaks for them, and she hires more people to guard the warehouse without being seen.
She can't let them go back to the fear.
Then she starts to remember the dreams. The ones that tore at her mind like claws when she finally dropped into an exhausted sleep. She remembers how she ran until slim steel-hard arms wrapped around her to hold them off.
He protected her in the dreams. Against himself.
But she was too blind to see. Too afraid. Too tired to turn and fight for herself.
A million kinds of fool.
Tears leak from the corners of her eyes to soak her hair.
From the scraps, Trixie is making a small fabric bag - a mojo hand. She starts to fill it with things - salt, a coin, some herbs, some bones.
"Miss Emma? I've done what I can. You make sure she keeps this bag with her at all times. Eventually, she won't need it anymore, but until then, it'll keep her together."
It was more than Emma or Logan could handle, it was time for back-up.
They made it through the Nexus without incident, to everyone's relief. Emma had to stop for directions once, but finally found herself in front of the wagon.
Logan hung back in the shadows while Emma went up to knock on the door.
Reply
The door opens and Trixie is standing there grinning. "Howdy ma'am. Just having a chat with my, heh, associate."
Reply
"We spoke the other day, about my charge being marked by a vampire." She moved aside to show the woman Logan with the girl in his arms. "The situation has grown rather dire."
Reply
Reply
Logan pulls Jubilee closer to his chest when he gets a look around. They were going to break something that had been in the girl's family for generations and she'd throw an unholy fit. The scenario unfolds in his brain like a mental movie.
"Where should I put her."
Reply
She's busy getting her supplies ready and putting Bob in his Quiet-Time bucket. Bob, her 'associate', is a human skull with some sort of small, eternally chatty air-spirit in it. Little bastard.
Reply
Her skin is so cold.
Reply
"You two might wanna take a seat. I'm gonna be a while."
Reply
"You're not going to tip the wagon, Wolverine. Sit."
Reply
Reply
She dares not look back, she just keeps moving toward the light, discarding any disdain she might once have had for the stereotype.
Ilyana would be there. And Colossus, Ev, all of them.
Her parents.
If only she could reach it.
Reply
Reply
She doesn't want to come out. She wants to go in.
Inside, she fights against the scent, trying to slough the tendrils of smoke from her wrists.
Reply
Reply
They eat so quickly, it's almost painful to watch. It's like they're afraid the food will be taken away any minute. Her heart breaks for them, and she hires more people to guard the warehouse without being seen.
She can't let them go back to the fear.
Then she starts to remember the dreams. The ones that tore at her mind like claws when she finally dropped into an exhausted sleep. She remembers how she ran until slim steel-hard arms wrapped around her to hold them off.
He protected her in the dreams. Against himself.
But she was too blind to see. Too afraid. Too tired to turn and fight for herself.
A million kinds of fool.
Tears leak from the corners of her eyes to soak her hair.
Reply
"Miss Emma? I've done what I can. You make sure she keeps this bag with her at all times. Eventually, she won't need it anymore, but until then, it'll keep her together."
Reply
Leave a comment