x2 ficlet: so many undone plans
Jul. 21st, 2003 01:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bantha_foddertitle: so many undone plans
fandom: xmen movieverse
disclaimer: i do not own these things
rating: pg
summary: falling through walls is no great feat.
notes: bit of an experiment. for the x_men100 freeform but more words challenge. completely unbetaed.
The water runs through her hands [no drops catch on your fingers, running slowly down to pool in your palms, only to overflow and trace your veins until cascading off your elbows in a waterfall] and splashes to the ground as if she was not there.
Her hair is wet and plastered to the side of her face [ugly, bedraggled hodgepodge of a thing you are: all mouse-brown and freckled and too short and disgustingly petite; wide eyes and big feet like some kind of fucking Yeti] but only because she lets it be so. She could let the water miss, but she will not. If the water were to flow through her scalp and into her head, would she be able to time it just so, leaving the water there? Perhaps her brain can drown [floating, weightless, above a world that drifts out of reach with every breath] in the water she could allow to settle there.
She opens her mouth and drinks the water as it falls from the sky. Now it catches on her lashes and on her clothes [light, delicate, fraying nightgown, no use to you or to anyone else; so useless] like it would on anyone else. She could easily be mistaken for notamutant in her dress, arms to the heavens beseeching the rains stop – or to fall heavier.
[the children will be fine without you; Piotr will be fine without you. Falling through walls is no great feat: you will never keep them safe]
fandom: xmen movieverse
disclaimer: i do not own these things
rating: pg
summary: falling through walls is no great feat.
notes: bit of an experiment. for the x_men100 freeform but more words challenge. completely unbetaed.
The water runs through her hands [no drops catch on your fingers, running slowly down to pool in your palms, only to overflow and trace your veins until cascading off your elbows in a waterfall] and splashes to the ground as if she was not there.
Her hair is wet and plastered to the side of her face [ugly, bedraggled hodgepodge of a thing you are: all mouse-brown and freckled and too short and disgustingly petite; wide eyes and big feet like some kind of fucking Yeti] but only because she lets it be so. She could let the water miss, but she will not. If the water were to flow through her scalp and into her head, would she be able to time it just so, leaving the water there? Perhaps her brain can drown [floating, weightless, above a world that drifts out of reach with every breath] in the water she could allow to settle there.
She opens her mouth and drinks the water as it falls from the sky. Now it catches on her lashes and on her clothes [light, delicate, fraying nightgown, no use to you or to anyone else; so useless] like it would on anyone else. She could easily be mistaken for notamutant in her dress, arms to the heavens beseeching the rains stop – or to fall heavier.
[the children will be fine without you; Piotr will be fine without you. Falling through walls is no great feat: you will never keep them safe]
