Reflections Under A Blood Moon
May. 22nd, 2015 12:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Reflections Under A Blood Moon
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Charles/Erik, mentioned Wolverine/Sabertooth and Cyclops/Jean
Rating: Soft R/M for nudity
Challenge:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comicdrabbles: #120: Bad Blood
Warning(s): Haunted Mansion AU
Word Count: 500
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He watches the sunlight dipping over the horizon until it is entirely replaced by darkness and the blood moon begins to rise. He has felt its power for hours now. The gargoyles shift on the back of his flying chair, their small, gray wings betraying their nerves. It is going to be a bad night, Charles knows. He can feel it in his bones and very soul.
Yet he can not turn away as the moon begins her ascent. There is something so beautiful and alluring about the nocturnal sky. As he watches, he lets his mind drift, checking on his apprentices and making certain all is right. Every one senses the danger of the approaching night, just as he has taught them to do, but they all deal with it in their own manner.
Ororo is flying naked through the sky, a stray lightning bolt every now and again illuminating her dark, curvaceous body. Wolverine runs wild through the forest, waiting for the man Charles knows will soon join him. Logan will be too busy both fighting and fucking Creed tonight to be accountable for anything. He will call instead upon Scott, who watches the night through his red eyes from his bedroom window while his wife sleeps peacefully behind him, upon Ororo, who will only be too happy for some action tonight, upon Bishop, who has been constantly checking and rechecking his many, many weapons since long before dusk, and upon Illyana, who even now has Demons awaiting her commands in the surrounding shadows. His other children will help, of course, when the need comes, but these four are the first upon whom he shall call.
The gargoyles shift again, bringing Charles' mind out of his reverie and back, for just a moment, to the present, but then again, he thinks of another time. This time, it is not to the dangerous future to which his mind goes but rather to the past which, in its own way, can be just as dangerous. He reminisces, with a fond smile curving his lips, of another time and another man. It had been a younger and more innocent time, just as he and Erik had been both younger and purer as well.
He leans back in his chair, thinking, remembering. The night breeze caresses him, and on its invisible fingers, he hears again the laughter of years gone by. He remembers the feel of hands surrounding him with love and the taste of kisses sometimes made salty with tears. He leans back in his chair, his gargoyles calming, as he recalls another night years ago and yet now seeming like yesternight. He remembers that bad moon well and how the man who had loved to dance and laugh beneath it, two men actually, and he had been one. His smile grows as his memories turn fonder still. His eyes drift closed. He raises his head to the moonlight's caress and lets the memories and the danger come as they will.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: X-Men
Character/Pairing: Charles/Erik, mentioned Wolverine/Sabertooth and Cyclops/Jean
Rating: Soft R/M for nudity
Challenge:
comicdrabbles: #120: Bad BloodWarning(s): Haunted Mansion AU
Word Count: 500
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
He watches the sunlight dipping over the horizon until it is entirely replaced by darkness and the blood moon begins to rise. He has felt its power for hours now. The gargoyles shift on the back of his flying chair, their small, gray wings betraying their nerves. It is going to be a bad night, Charles knows. He can feel it in his bones and very soul.
Yet he can not turn away as the moon begins her ascent. There is something so beautiful and alluring about the nocturnal sky. As he watches, he lets his mind drift, checking on his apprentices and making certain all is right. Every one senses the danger of the approaching night, just as he has taught them to do, but they all deal with it in their own manner.
Ororo is flying naked through the sky, a stray lightning bolt every now and again illuminating her dark, curvaceous body. Wolverine runs wild through the forest, waiting for the man Charles knows will soon join him. Logan will be too busy both fighting and fucking Creed tonight to be accountable for anything. He will call instead upon Scott, who watches the night through his red eyes from his bedroom window while his wife sleeps peacefully behind him, upon Ororo, who will only be too happy for some action tonight, upon Bishop, who has been constantly checking and rechecking his many, many weapons since long before dusk, and upon Illyana, who even now has Demons awaiting her commands in the surrounding shadows. His other children will help, of course, when the need comes, but these four are the first upon whom he shall call.
The gargoyles shift again, bringing Charles' mind out of his reverie and back, for just a moment, to the present, but then again, he thinks of another time. This time, it is not to the dangerous future to which his mind goes but rather to the past which, in its own way, can be just as dangerous. He reminisces, with a fond smile curving his lips, of another time and another man. It had been a younger and more innocent time, just as he and Erik had been both younger and purer as well.
He leans back in his chair, thinking, remembering. The night breeze caresses him, and on its invisible fingers, he hears again the laughter of years gone by. He remembers the feel of hands surrounding him with love and the taste of kisses sometimes made salty with tears. He leans back in his chair, his gargoyles calming, as he recalls another night years ago and yet now seeming like yesternight. He remembers that bad moon well and how the man who had loved to dance and laugh beneath it, two men actually, and he had been one. His smile grows as his memories turn fonder still. His eyes drift closed. He raises his head to the moonlight's caress and lets the memories and the danger come as they will.
The End
