Goodbye Stranger o6
See? See? I have been working on it. ^-^
*tries to get into the habit of correctly labeling her stories* It's not quite finished yet, though, but..
Title: Goodbye Stranger
Rating: PG-13 / T
Fandom: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Drama / Angst / Romance
Summary: They desend into madness..
Sometimes it's nobody's fault. Sometimes it's everybody's fault.
Once things go wrong, it's hard to remember why.
CHAPTER SIX
Rahne fell through the door, screaming.
The nails of her feet, still long and stained in both dirt and blood, snagged on the rug's fragged edge. Ornamental tassles - hand-stitched and imported in fashion, rested upon the threshold of Xavier's mansion. And as grand as pearls, they wrapped themselves solidly through the cracks of her toenails as though the claws of her legs had become independent and scrambled just to save itself.
She fell, as simply as that, and Rogue flew like a wet bag of sand from her arms - twisting most disguistedly and leaking, of all things, in places that should not leak.
The bounce as Rogue hit the carpet was no bounce, moreso it was a frantic plea from what remained of what was not water between her flesh and bone in a desperate attempt to escape. The sickly squealch almost resembled an escaping of air, but there was no air in Rogue.
Kitty ran through the wall seperating the hall from kitchen, and slid across the floor barefoot, her feet soiled throughally from the rug and her mind full of the image of Rogue unblinking and as distorted as a boy's toy left to rot in the sun. She slammed, face-first into the other side of the corridor. The sound was unmistakeable as she fell bodily backwards.
She choked on her own breath and convulsed involuntarily for the few seconds it took Jubilee to rush in from the other room, panic, and trip the vase decorating the way before the door unto Rahne's back. The pieces of porcelin fragmented into a collection of shards she would never be able to forget the weight of.
Jubilee clutched at the wooden dresser it had sat on, rattling the stand back and forth with her, and as incoherent as Rahne, who still could not get up. Both the cold and the carpet twisted through her feet held her, clung to her, steadfast. The knots were simple to untangle, but her fingers couldn't even support her own weight to lift herself.
It was Jubilee's thoughts Xavier was alerted to, slamming into him so suddenly that for several moments he could only gaze immobile at the paneled wall of his office, his book dangling dangerously over cliff of his fingertips. The immediate call he sent after froze every being in the house as effectively as if he had covered them in actual ice.
Lance wound his fingers between the coils of the telephone cord and pressed the steady granite of the counter against his back. His neck stiff, he cracked it twice as he waited for the click of someone answering.
Jean was already at the bus stop, more than half a block away, when Xavier called her back so strong mentally that she dropped her duffle bag and nearly stumbled out into traffic, the sounding call of angry drivers screaming by her ears. Her hands clung to the nylon handle keeping her volleyball uniform in a desperate scramble that she didn't actually register until her sneakers slid backwards as it caught on the mansion's gates.
Her bag was left on the wrought iron fence when she could not rip it loose in the instant it took for her hair to regain momentum from the backlash and slap her face in the opposite direction as she took off fullforce. By the time she was inside, Xavier was already a hundred feet in the air, the blast of the black jet ripping the head off every bloom in the garden.
Scott's voice was garbled and rusty with disuse as he picked up the other end. His "What?!" was three weeks fatigued, his notebook still clutched in the hand not tapping impatiently against the phone. His pencil rolled between his teeth, imprinted permanently. He glanced exasperated back at the stack of midterms ransacking his desk.
Lance blinked, wide-eyed, and jolted forwards, the phone rattling as he nearly pulled it out in haste. His hand fell upon the unwashed surface of the counter, never registering the stick of hardening jelly as his mouth moved soundless, once. Twice.
"Is this some fucking joke? You think this is funny, jack-ass!" Scott jerked the phone back to his head, in wait of some reply, before again sending it to slam forceably into the reciever.
Lance listened to the dial-tone, in guilt. The one long vowel rang over his ears, the distance sound of receeding thunder not quite distinguishable over the ever increasing beat of his heart.
His throat still stuck, his neck started spasming, unable to swallow.
Miles away, in a San Fransico airport, Ororo walked through customs. Logan, already four hours away, was counting out coins for a toll booth, the comical magnet plastered to the dash sticking on his fist as he reached across it.
Hank thanked the claims girl as she loaded his bag onto the terminal of luggage, all the while apologizing for the delay and bowing rather stiffly from the waist. He nodded his head at her, smiling from beneath the virtual illusion his watch projected as he boarded the last plane from South America.
'Strawberries..' Lance thought, shivering from the chill of an open window and his memories. He could smell that same artifical scent of the red red fruit she laced her hair with. It made his teeth ache for no reason at all. The phone fell from his grasp with a clang, the dail-tone still echoing, and he slid to the floor, lost.
t i t l e - s u m m a r y
KUDZU
a fast growing vine.