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Fic: Unlikely Correspondence
Title: Unlikely Correspondence
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
willowaus
Pairing/Characters: Mystique/Destiny, Rogue
Fandom: 616 comicverse
Rating: PG
Word Count:521
Summary: Mystique and Rogue receive messages from someone long gone.
A/N: Many thanks tosionnain for looking this over. This is set after the Mystique series but before she joins the X-Men.
Dearest one,
You have your reasoning, clouded as it may be, but I know you believe you have done that which you should. Your methods, as always, are succinct though your beliefs are convoluted. You think you know of the horrors to come. You know nothing; have had only the slightest glimpse.
Turn back from this road, my love. You are opening yourself to attacks from all sides, harboring anger from those you should be gathering to you.
The great abyss is nearing, the world readying to tremble beneath mighty feet. Though I know you are a survivor, liebling, I fear that you shall perish beneath the fury to come.
Do not retreat into the darkness. Do not let it devour you.
She is still the key, my darling. Do not forget all that we strived so hard to prevent.
Make peace.
I.
----
Mystique’s features darkened, the paper twisting violently in her hands before she rummaged for the envelope that had contained the handwritten message. There was no more information to be obtained from it; no return address, no date, no postage, nothing. She lashed out angrily at the table, causing the contents on top to spill in a pool around her feet.
The papers flew from her fingers and she hissed as a thin piece sliced into her finger, watching as blood formed outside the tiny cut. So much pain from such a tiny thing. Bending, she retrieved the letter and moved towards the stove, turned on one of the burners and watched as the fire sprang to life. She held the note inches away from the tiny flame, eyes narrowed in silent fury as the paper began to burn.
Her gaze moved to the perfectly scripted endearment. Dearest one. She slammed the paper down on the counter top, quickly smothering the flame, biting back the searing pain as her skin was burned. Her feet led her back to the living room and she sank down onto the couch, rereading the words, ignoring the bitter ache and the tears sliding slowly down her face.
----
It wasn’t always pain and guns and death.
Remember the good times, child.
Forgive her.
I.
----
Rogue glared at the note, slamming it down onto the nightstand before returning her attention to the envelope. She tipped it over, watching a small silver locket fall. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the necklace lying on her bedspread before opening the clasp.
Her hands clenched in anger at her sides as she took in the smiling faces before clicking it shut. That was a lifetime ago. She picked up the note and moved towards the candle on the dresser, gaze focused on the dancing flame.
A tiny spark quickly began devouring the paper and Rogue shook her head, pushing aside the memories of laughter and Irene’s voice reading her stories before bed. She wrenched the letter away, quickly squelching the flame before retrieving the envelope.
She placed the note and locket back inside and deposited them in her top desk drawer, storing them securely by the countless other letters from a woman long dead.
Author:
willowausPairing/Characters: Mystique/Destiny, Rogue
Fandom: 616 comicverse
Rating: PG
Word Count:521
Summary: Mystique and Rogue receive messages from someone long gone.
A/N: Many thanks to
sionnain for looking this over. This is set after the Mystique series but before she joins the X-Men. Dearest one,
You have your reasoning, clouded as it may be, but I know you believe you have done that which you should. Your methods, as always, are succinct though your beliefs are convoluted. You think you know of the horrors to come. You know nothing; have had only the slightest glimpse.
Turn back from this road, my love. You are opening yourself to attacks from all sides, harboring anger from those you should be gathering to you.
The great abyss is nearing, the world readying to tremble beneath mighty feet. Though I know you are a survivor, liebling, I fear that you shall perish beneath the fury to come.
Do not retreat into the darkness. Do not let it devour you.
She is still the key, my darling. Do not forget all that we strived so hard to prevent.
Make peace.
I.
----
Mystique’s features darkened, the paper twisting violently in her hands before she rummaged for the envelope that had contained the handwritten message. There was no more information to be obtained from it; no return address, no date, no postage, nothing. She lashed out angrily at the table, causing the contents on top to spill in a pool around her feet.
The papers flew from her fingers and she hissed as a thin piece sliced into her finger, watching as blood formed outside the tiny cut. So much pain from such a tiny thing. Bending, she retrieved the letter and moved towards the stove, turned on one of the burners and watched as the fire sprang to life. She held the note inches away from the tiny flame, eyes narrowed in silent fury as the paper began to burn.
Her gaze moved to the perfectly scripted endearment. Dearest one. She slammed the paper down on the counter top, quickly smothering the flame, biting back the searing pain as her skin was burned. Her feet led her back to the living room and she sank down onto the couch, rereading the words, ignoring the bitter ache and the tears sliding slowly down her face.
----
It wasn’t always pain and guns and death.
Remember the good times, child.
Forgive her.
I.
----
Rogue glared at the note, slamming it down onto the nightstand before returning her attention to the envelope. She tipped it over, watching a small silver locket fall. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the necklace lying on her bedspread before opening the clasp.
Her hands clenched in anger at her sides as she took in the smiling faces before clicking it shut. That was a lifetime ago. She picked up the note and moved towards the candle on the dresser, gaze focused on the dancing flame.
A tiny spark quickly began devouring the paper and Rogue shook her head, pushing aside the memories of laughter and Irene’s voice reading her stories before bed. She wrenched the letter away, quickly squelching the flame before retrieving the envelope.
She placed the note and locket back inside and deposited them in her top desk drawer, storing them securely by the countless other letters from a woman long dead.
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Their family is very screwed up. Not as much as the Summers's but well, I think it'd be hard to top that family with screwed-up-ness. :P
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Like mother, like daughter really does apply to these two every so often. :)