Entry 03, Gold and Silver Rings
Title: Gold and Silver Rings
Entry Number: 03
Author: latemarch, Chelsea
Fandom: X:Men First Class
Rating: PG-13
Genre: adventure, romance
Spoiler Warnings: None. Although I am screwing around with the time line of the universe.
Word Count: 2, 230
Notes: I've been playing around with this idea for months, and I finally got it out. I'd really like some feedback on Ann's mutation. Also, I know that it's a very long entry, way longer than it has to be, but I didn't want to break up the first chapter and I really wanted feedback. And check out a note at the end of the entry.
Chapter One
“Erik? Did you hear what I said?”
Erik Lehnsherr started, drawn from his thoughts and turned to Charles Xavier, sitting beside him and holding an alarmingly large stack of books. ‘The man is obsessed.’ Was his thought as he eyed the scientific stack. Quirking his eyebrow, he asked, “What?”
“I said that I’m going to do a little more research. There are all sorts of mutations that we need to open our minds to.” Charles tapped forcefully on the cover of the top book, punctuating what he was saying. He looked as if he was about to attempt to recruit Erik in this task.
Levitating a pencil by its aluminum casing, Erik waved it pointedly at Charles until the other man plucked it out of the air. “Off you go then.”
Frowning at the smirk on Erik’s face, Charles left the other man to his musings, with one last, “Erik, behave.” He could see what, or who, the other man was staring at. It concerned him that his friend seemed to see Ms. Finch as nothing but a creature to be studied. But the German only waved away any concerns negligently, and returned to his previous musings.
Erik narrowed his eyes, studying her. No one would ever have guessed that Ann Finch was anything other than a quiet, obedient, ordinary young girl, unless one looked closely. Watching her read a textbook, Erik decided that if he hadn’t seen Charles personally recruit her for the Institute, or seen a demonstration of her powers, he would have thought her a human; not worth much but his scorn.
Nor would he have ever thought she had much of a personality either. She was exactly the sort of person that irritated Erik - quiet voice, little ambition, constant worry about what others thought. She even wished for complacency among the humans. Disgraceful.
Unlike him, she did everything asked of her. Ask her to make dinner, and she’d do it. Ask her to wash some clothes for a friend, and she’d fold them too. She regularly assisted Charles in preparing for his classes, even though she wasn’t an actual student; in fact, she was probably doing a little bit of that research that Charles had pranced off to do. She attended extra training sessions to be a sparring partner (although, that he couldn’t really protest - there was no such thing as too much training). He’d even once seen her help the mansion staff vacuum. He sneered absently.
As he studied her, her waspish, brown-gold eyes flicked up, and caught him staring through the library stacks. A frown curled the skin between her eyes, gold flickering in her irises as they narrowed, and then looked back at her textbook. Erik had to hide a laugh when she jumped up, horrified. Apparently he had quite an affect on her - and she’d slipped up with her powers.
Acid generation could be tricky when one was holding something as delicate as a piece of paper.
It was the repeated glares that she covertly scoured him with that reminded him of where his thoughts had originally taken him - her true personality. He flicked negligently through another page in his book, half-heartedly attempting to appear occupied so that he himself wouldn’t be swept up into some hair-brained research project. Even Charles, he suspected, didn’t know that she was anything other than a submissive, bland young trainee. But Erik did. He’d watched her.
She was always precisely one minute late to everything. He’d spied her purposefully waiting a full minute to enter Charles’ office for a meeting. She purposefully avoided making eye contact with anyone; this Erik relented, was probably mostly due to shyness. But she took it far past the normal level of evasion. And of course, she was a bit temperamental when disturbed at the wrong time, as he had just done a few seconds before.
Ms. Finch wasn’t like any of the other women he usually associated with. Unlike Raven, she didn’t regularly succumb to whims, or wear short skirts. She clearly wasn’t akin with Agent Moira MacTaggert, who wore a thin veil of professional make-up to hide her youth and boost her authority (nor did she fraternize after hours with Charles, like Agent MacTaggert also did). Neither did she wear her sexuality like a shield, in the practice of Angel Salvadore. Ann Finch was just… there, if he wanted to be honest.
She did have one more resistance that Erik had noticed, though this one he rather approved of, as he was sure it would someday be useful to him. She wore rings, one on each hand. Metal rings, decorated with a few semi-precious stones, that were left strangely unaffected by her powers. Charles liked to wax theoretical on her powers, and he suspected their survival was because of her constant, unconscious will.
Erik had noticed that once a person found out about his personal ability, they generally stopped wearing metal if they could help it. Men suddenly lost their cuff links. Women inexplicably stopped wearing their earrings, their necklaces, their bracelets, their jewelry. Of course, they couldn’t avoid metal completely, but they were determined to avoid it as much as possible. Charles was the only person who’d never seemed to care that Erik could attack him with a sweatshirt zipper, or something equally ridiculous.
Except Finch. Ann persisted in wearing her rings, no matter that he’d warned her of his ability. No matter that he’d threatened her with them as weapons. No matter that he could hold her prisoner with them. She was determined to wear them - one gold, one silver.
She rushed past him, out of the library, and apparently completely involved in her little black notebook, not even sparring him a glance. The library door slammed shut behind her, and this time Erik couldn’t quite contain his smug laughter. Other library goers shushed him - that Hank practically lived in the damn physics aisle - but he didn’t care. Yes, that was the one quirk, the small rebellion about the mutant Ann Finch, who generated sulfuric acid from her skin, that Erik Lehnsherr actually liked.
* * *
Ann grumbled under her breath as she quelled her temper, and her distrust of that man on the other side of the room. The pads of her fingers stung from residual traces of acid still clinging to her skin, and she waited less than patiently for it to fade away. She shut her book with a bang, frustrated and frowning, but managed not to disintegrate it even more than it already was.
Glaring at Erik Lehnsherr, she began to gather up her things, as the atmosphere in the library was no longer as welcoming. He took her sour looks implacably, and Ann felt her temper rising again at his lack of reaction. If she wanted to keep her book even relatively unscathed, she had to calm down.
“What an asshole.” She murmured to herself, bowing to the gold crown of her anger petulantly, sure that no one could hear her. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve the reputation - Erik Lehnsherr was brusque, self-important, and arrogant. And smug.
It was that smug grin of his that really got her. She jotted down a cautionary note in her little black book, and made to leave the library. Seeing that smugness as she careened out of the library, she let the heavy wooden doors slam more than she’d intended.
“Charles!” Ann stopped short, seeing the young man leaning on a stack of thick books that he’d piled precariously on a side table. A yellow, No. 2 pencil stuck out from behind his ear, and at her approach, he straightened up to tuck his hands in his pockets. “Can I do something for you? Is something wrong?”
Seeing her harried appearance, Charles frowned. “I think that it is I who should be asking you that. Are you alright Ann?” He plucked the pencil from behind his ear, almost as if he was preparing to puzzle out a solution right then and there.
“No, no. Nothing’s wrong I just… well, I just don’t get along with everyone here.” Like Erik. Just thinking his name stirred glowing embers low in her stomach. Anger was a daily struggle with Ann, more so than others thought. Remembering the power of anger to destroy someone’s life, further spurred Ann’s dedication to being pleasant and helpful. Permanently.
Charles sighed, as if he had expected just such an answer - a polite, unhelpful one. “Erik.” He held the pencil out to her, and she took it absently, more out of habit than intent; he was forever giving away his pencils, and then finding that he had no more, would be forced to search someone out hours later to retrieve one, abashed. But right then, he looked more irritated than sheepish. “I’ll have a talk with him then.”
Ann swiped at the back of his sweater, and caught him just in front of the library doors. “No! Don’t!”
The professor practically unraveled his combed, polished hairstyle, combing his fingers through it, frustrated. “Ann, tell me what’s going on! I…” He was clearly tired of the long running mutual dislike, and was practically the definition of vexed. “If you won’t let me intervene, at least tell me why this is going on.”
“He… he threatened me!” Ann struggled uselessly to find words adequate enough to describe the odd dynamic that pulsed and seared between them.
And he certainly had threatened her. Ann remembered it clearly - four months ago just after they’d first met. He’d intimidated her so much upon introduction, it had taken her a week to work up the courage to speak to him again.
She came upon him in the weight room, dressed in grey sweats and tennis shoes, his dark hair slicked with sweat, and his eyes intensely focused on the weights that he was bench pressing. She remembered swallowing, smoothing her fingers over her own gray sweatpants and t-shirt, checking to make sure that her hair was smooth in it’s braid. Upon greeting, he’d startled, catching his weights with his ability, and sitting up abruptly, relaxed a bit when he recognized her.
He’d watched her with this predatory look that made Ann, even then, highly uncomfortable, but still, when offered a seat on the windowsill next to him, she’d accepted. He asked probing, gauging questions that had made her even more uncomfortable, questions that she wasn’t quite ready to answer. And in the heat of the moment, Ann had retaliated, in a burst of impetuosity, asking him about his tattoo. Though she was genuinely curious to hear him speak about his past, it had been a stupid thing to do. That wouldn’t have been too much of a problem. The problem was, without thinking, she reached over and pushed his sleeve back so that she could see more. She could still remember the first three numbers: 214.
Suddenly her hands were pressed palm down to her thighs, incredible pressure coming from the thin metal bands she wore - one on each middle finger - keeping her immobile. Trapped. Hostage. Unable to do anything about the iron weight bar pressing into her windpipe. If she generated any acid then, she’d only burn herself. And then he’d really threatened her.
“Well, I did talk to him about that.” Charles reminded her. “You’ll have to do better Ann. I’m tired of this freakish…discord between you.” The frown on his face, and the way his arms were crossed across his chest made her feel a tad bit guilty.
“Yes, well,” Ann started pettily, intending to spit out some childish insult about Erik and leave it at that. But the familiar stinging that began to spread beneath her fingertips and up her veins, through her arms and limbs to her core, reminded her to keep her temper in check. If she didn’t reign it in, she’d end up incinerating her clothes for a second time from lack of control. And wouldn’t it be her luck if Lehnsherr walked out right then.
Taking a deep breath, she started again. Control. Compassion. Compliance. “I’m sorry. I forget about how trying this must all be for you to referee. I’ll try harder in the future.” The blossoming smile pushed her apology right over the edge.
And Charles, dear, sweet Charles, didn’t suspect the treacherous chemical reaction that would have dearly loved to run rampant through her. He only reached over and patted her hand sympathetically. “I’m sure things will get better.” Stretching, he added, “I’m off to do some research. I’ll see you later for our weekly meeting, yes?”
Ann nodded, but absently. She wasn’t so sure that things would get better. In fact, she felt like the feather against the fire.
* * *
Ann Finch’s Little Black Book
Note to self: Avoid all possible contact with one Erik Lehnsherr. Incidents of confrontation inevitably end in loss of control and destruction of property. Possible causes being considered include EL’s smug expression and EL’s silent, taunting stares.
Example: Charles expressed particular desire for chicken pot pie the day before last. EL expressed particular distaste for chicken pot pie, and issued command for Sauerbraten. Further proof of above hypotheses: destroyed the handle of a cast iron skillet as a result of EL’s “suggestion.”
Note to self (the second): when buying groceries for pot pies (chicken, vegetables), also purchase soy sauce, garlic paste, and chili powder for the Sauerbraten. Also, we need milk.
- - end of entry 03 - -
So what do you think of Ann's mutation? She generates of sort of super sulfuric acid through her skin. It can manifest on any portion of her body, but most often occurs on her hands. I'm hoping that her mutation is cool and not... weird sounding. I'm not sure where this story is actually going, but I do know that it's Eric/OC, and that I'm definitely screwing around with the canon timeline.
And about that note I mentioned above. I had the opportunity of a lifetime to take a tour of San Quentin State Prison, here in California. I've just finished writing an entry on LJ about the experience, and in case anyone is interested in reading about the tour, I thought I'd mention it a couple of times. It really was an incredible experience. San Quentin State Prison Tour.
Check it out!
Entry Number: 03
Author: latemarch, Chelsea
Fandom: X:Men First Class
Rating: PG-13
Genre: adventure, romance
Spoiler Warnings: None. Although I am screwing around with the time line of the universe.
Word Count: 2, 230
Notes: I've been playing around with this idea for months, and I finally got it out. I'd really like some feedback on Ann's mutation. Also, I know that it's a very long entry, way longer than it has to be, but I didn't want to break up the first chapter and I really wanted feedback. And check out a note at the end of the entry.
Chapter One
“Erik? Did you hear what I said?”
Erik Lehnsherr started, drawn from his thoughts and turned to Charles Xavier, sitting beside him and holding an alarmingly large stack of books. ‘The man is obsessed.’ Was his thought as he eyed the scientific stack. Quirking his eyebrow, he asked, “What?”
“I said that I’m going to do a little more research. There are all sorts of mutations that we need to open our minds to.” Charles tapped forcefully on the cover of the top book, punctuating what he was saying. He looked as if he was about to attempt to recruit Erik in this task.
Levitating a pencil by its aluminum casing, Erik waved it pointedly at Charles until the other man plucked it out of the air. “Off you go then.”
Frowning at the smirk on Erik’s face, Charles left the other man to his musings, with one last, “Erik, behave.” He could see what, or who, the other man was staring at. It concerned him that his friend seemed to see Ms. Finch as nothing but a creature to be studied. But the German only waved away any concerns negligently, and returned to his previous musings.
Erik narrowed his eyes, studying her. No one would ever have guessed that Ann Finch was anything other than a quiet, obedient, ordinary young girl, unless one looked closely. Watching her read a textbook, Erik decided that if he hadn’t seen Charles personally recruit her for the Institute, or seen a demonstration of her powers, he would have thought her a human; not worth much but his scorn.
Nor would he have ever thought she had much of a personality either. She was exactly the sort of person that irritated Erik - quiet voice, little ambition, constant worry about what others thought. She even wished for complacency among the humans. Disgraceful.
Unlike him, she did everything asked of her. Ask her to make dinner, and she’d do it. Ask her to wash some clothes for a friend, and she’d fold them too. She regularly assisted Charles in preparing for his classes, even though she wasn’t an actual student; in fact, she was probably doing a little bit of that research that Charles had pranced off to do. She attended extra training sessions to be a sparring partner (although, that he couldn’t really protest - there was no such thing as too much training). He’d even once seen her help the mansion staff vacuum. He sneered absently.
As he studied her, her waspish, brown-gold eyes flicked up, and caught him staring through the library stacks. A frown curled the skin between her eyes, gold flickering in her irises as they narrowed, and then looked back at her textbook. Erik had to hide a laugh when she jumped up, horrified. Apparently he had quite an affect on her - and she’d slipped up with her powers.
Acid generation could be tricky when one was holding something as delicate as a piece of paper.
It was the repeated glares that she covertly scoured him with that reminded him of where his thoughts had originally taken him - her true personality. He flicked negligently through another page in his book, half-heartedly attempting to appear occupied so that he himself wouldn’t be swept up into some hair-brained research project. Even Charles, he suspected, didn’t know that she was anything other than a submissive, bland young trainee. But Erik did. He’d watched her.
She was always precisely one minute late to everything. He’d spied her purposefully waiting a full minute to enter Charles’ office for a meeting. She purposefully avoided making eye contact with anyone; this Erik relented, was probably mostly due to shyness. But she took it far past the normal level of evasion. And of course, she was a bit temperamental when disturbed at the wrong time, as he had just done a few seconds before.
Ms. Finch wasn’t like any of the other women he usually associated with. Unlike Raven, she didn’t regularly succumb to whims, or wear short skirts. She clearly wasn’t akin with Agent Moira MacTaggert, who wore a thin veil of professional make-up to hide her youth and boost her authority (nor did she fraternize after hours with Charles, like Agent MacTaggert also did). Neither did she wear her sexuality like a shield, in the practice of Angel Salvadore. Ann Finch was just… there, if he wanted to be honest.
She did have one more resistance that Erik had noticed, though this one he rather approved of, as he was sure it would someday be useful to him. She wore rings, one on each hand. Metal rings, decorated with a few semi-precious stones, that were left strangely unaffected by her powers. Charles liked to wax theoretical on her powers, and he suspected their survival was because of her constant, unconscious will.
Erik had noticed that once a person found out about his personal ability, they generally stopped wearing metal if they could help it. Men suddenly lost their cuff links. Women inexplicably stopped wearing their earrings, their necklaces, their bracelets, their jewelry. Of course, they couldn’t avoid metal completely, but they were determined to avoid it as much as possible. Charles was the only person who’d never seemed to care that Erik could attack him with a sweatshirt zipper, or something equally ridiculous.
Except Finch. Ann persisted in wearing her rings, no matter that he’d warned her of his ability. No matter that he’d threatened her with them as weapons. No matter that he could hold her prisoner with them. She was determined to wear them - one gold, one silver.
She rushed past him, out of the library, and apparently completely involved in her little black notebook, not even sparring him a glance. The library door slammed shut behind her, and this time Erik couldn’t quite contain his smug laughter. Other library goers shushed him - that Hank practically lived in the damn physics aisle - but he didn’t care. Yes, that was the one quirk, the small rebellion about the mutant Ann Finch, who generated sulfuric acid from her skin, that Erik Lehnsherr actually liked.
* * *
Ann grumbled under her breath as she quelled her temper, and her distrust of that man on the other side of the room. The pads of her fingers stung from residual traces of acid still clinging to her skin, and she waited less than patiently for it to fade away. She shut her book with a bang, frustrated and frowning, but managed not to disintegrate it even more than it already was.
Glaring at Erik Lehnsherr, she began to gather up her things, as the atmosphere in the library was no longer as welcoming. He took her sour looks implacably, and Ann felt her temper rising again at his lack of reaction. If she wanted to keep her book even relatively unscathed, she had to calm down.
“What an asshole.” She murmured to herself, bowing to the gold crown of her anger petulantly, sure that no one could hear her. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve the reputation - Erik Lehnsherr was brusque, self-important, and arrogant. And smug.
It was that smug grin of his that really got her. She jotted down a cautionary note in her little black book, and made to leave the library. Seeing that smugness as she careened out of the library, she let the heavy wooden doors slam more than she’d intended.
“Charles!” Ann stopped short, seeing the young man leaning on a stack of thick books that he’d piled precariously on a side table. A yellow, No. 2 pencil stuck out from behind his ear, and at her approach, he straightened up to tuck his hands in his pockets. “Can I do something for you? Is something wrong?”
Seeing her harried appearance, Charles frowned. “I think that it is I who should be asking you that. Are you alright Ann?” He plucked the pencil from behind his ear, almost as if he was preparing to puzzle out a solution right then and there.
“No, no. Nothing’s wrong I just… well, I just don’t get along with everyone here.” Like Erik. Just thinking his name stirred glowing embers low in her stomach. Anger was a daily struggle with Ann, more so than others thought. Remembering the power of anger to destroy someone’s life, further spurred Ann’s dedication to being pleasant and helpful. Permanently.
Charles sighed, as if he had expected just such an answer - a polite, unhelpful one. “Erik.” He held the pencil out to her, and she took it absently, more out of habit than intent; he was forever giving away his pencils, and then finding that he had no more, would be forced to search someone out hours later to retrieve one, abashed. But right then, he looked more irritated than sheepish. “I’ll have a talk with him then.”
Ann swiped at the back of his sweater, and caught him just in front of the library doors. “No! Don’t!”
The professor practically unraveled his combed, polished hairstyle, combing his fingers through it, frustrated. “Ann, tell me what’s going on! I…” He was clearly tired of the long running mutual dislike, and was practically the definition of vexed. “If you won’t let me intervene, at least tell me why this is going on.”
“He… he threatened me!” Ann struggled uselessly to find words adequate enough to describe the odd dynamic that pulsed and seared between them.
And he certainly had threatened her. Ann remembered it clearly - four months ago just after they’d first met. He’d intimidated her so much upon introduction, it had taken her a week to work up the courage to speak to him again.
She came upon him in the weight room, dressed in grey sweats and tennis shoes, his dark hair slicked with sweat, and his eyes intensely focused on the weights that he was bench pressing. She remembered swallowing, smoothing her fingers over her own gray sweatpants and t-shirt, checking to make sure that her hair was smooth in it’s braid. Upon greeting, he’d startled, catching his weights with his ability, and sitting up abruptly, relaxed a bit when he recognized her.
He’d watched her with this predatory look that made Ann, even then, highly uncomfortable, but still, when offered a seat on the windowsill next to him, she’d accepted. He asked probing, gauging questions that had made her even more uncomfortable, questions that she wasn’t quite ready to answer. And in the heat of the moment, Ann had retaliated, in a burst of impetuosity, asking him about his tattoo. Though she was genuinely curious to hear him speak about his past, it had been a stupid thing to do. That wouldn’t have been too much of a problem. The problem was, without thinking, she reached over and pushed his sleeve back so that she could see more. She could still remember the first three numbers: 214.
Suddenly her hands were pressed palm down to her thighs, incredible pressure coming from the thin metal bands she wore - one on each middle finger - keeping her immobile. Trapped. Hostage. Unable to do anything about the iron weight bar pressing into her windpipe. If she generated any acid then, she’d only burn herself. And then he’d really threatened her.
“Well, I did talk to him about that.” Charles reminded her. “You’ll have to do better Ann. I’m tired of this freakish…discord between you.” The frown on his face, and the way his arms were crossed across his chest made her feel a tad bit guilty.
“Yes, well,” Ann started pettily, intending to spit out some childish insult about Erik and leave it at that. But the familiar stinging that began to spread beneath her fingertips and up her veins, through her arms and limbs to her core, reminded her to keep her temper in check. If she didn’t reign it in, she’d end up incinerating her clothes for a second time from lack of control. And wouldn’t it be her luck if Lehnsherr walked out right then.
Taking a deep breath, she started again. Control. Compassion. Compliance. “I’m sorry. I forget about how trying this must all be for you to referee. I’ll try harder in the future.” The blossoming smile pushed her apology right over the edge.
And Charles, dear, sweet Charles, didn’t suspect the treacherous chemical reaction that would have dearly loved to run rampant through her. He only reached over and patted her hand sympathetically. “I’m sure things will get better.” Stretching, he added, “I’m off to do some research. I’ll see you later for our weekly meeting, yes?”
Ann nodded, but absently. She wasn’t so sure that things would get better. In fact, she felt like the feather against the fire.
* * *
Ann Finch’s Little Black Book
Note to self: Avoid all possible contact with one Erik Lehnsherr. Incidents of confrontation inevitably end in loss of control and destruction of property. Possible causes being considered include EL’s smug expression and EL’s silent, taunting stares.
Example: Charles expressed particular desire for chicken pot pie the day before last. EL expressed particular distaste for chicken pot pie, and issued command for Sauerbraten. Further proof of above hypotheses: destroyed the handle of a cast iron skillet as a result of EL’s “suggestion.”
Note to self (the second): when buying groceries for pot pies (chicken, vegetables), also purchase soy sauce, garlic paste, and chili powder for the Sauerbraten. Also, we need milk.
- - end of entry 03 - -
So what do you think of Ann's mutation? She generates of sort of super sulfuric acid through her skin. It can manifest on any portion of her body, but most often occurs on her hands. I'm hoping that her mutation is cool and not... weird sounding. I'm not sure where this story is actually going, but I do know that it's Eric/OC, and that I'm definitely screwing around with the canon timeline.
And about that note I mentioned above. I had the opportunity of a lifetime to take a tour of San Quentin State Prison, here in California. I've just finished writing an entry on LJ about the experience, and in case anyone is interested in reading about the tour, I thought I'd mention it a couple of times. It really was an incredible experience. San Quentin State Prison Tour.
Check it out!