Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

FIC: How Do You See Me? 1/1 L/R

Expand Messages
  • Errie Rowley
    Title: How Do You See Me? Author: Errie Rating: PG Series: Perception Summary: A painter paints Rogue as he sees her. Then he paints Logan as he sees him.
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 4, 2001
      Title: How Do You See Me?
      Author: Errie
      Rating: PG
      Series: Perception
      Summary: A painter paints Rogue as he sees her. Then he paints Logan
      as he sees him. Will finding out the truth of what they are tear
      them apart?
      Dedication: To victoria p., who inspired me with her fiction, and
      Crystalline Dreamer, my muse. She gave me this wonderful idea in a
      Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; save Atruis and the way I perceive the
      Archiving: Just ask, and ye shall receive.
      Author's Notes: If you hate it, not my problem. I was just trying to
      put into words what I perceived the characters to be, and trying to
      find phrases to describe the visions that are painted so vividly in
      my mind.
      Feedback: Is a very good thing. Be a nice person to me, and I'll
      write more.


      He painted me.

      I knew he would.

      I begged and pleaded with him, but he was afraid to show me what I

      Now I know how he sees me.

      And I know how he sees Logan.

      How can we be so different, yet so in love? Atruis assures me that
      it will not last. Our souls are forever in a war that we have no
      control over. It is impossible to fall in love. Our souls will
      eventually collide, and only one will walk away.


      "Rogue, pleaseĀ…" started Atruis, a pained light in his eye. "I can't
      paint you. It would be too painful."

      "Painful for who?" She demanded, her voice low and soft, running over
      him like a pale honey, a touch of gold, and something that he
      couldn't identify.

      "Painful for all of us. Especially you and Logan. I can't let them
      see what you are. It would be not only painful, but also dangerous.
      I'm sorry, I can't put you in that danger." His voice was a deep
      baritone, reaching down into one's soul and soothing tangled
      emotions, old fears, and broken dreams.

      "What danger would that be? Atruis, I just want you to paint me as
      you see me. Your mutation is to let you see the truth. I just want
      to know the truth about myself. I'll give you anything. Please?"
      Her green eyes were large and pleading. She wanted to know who she
      was. Not Rogue, but Marie. She just wanted to know what her spirit
      was. What she would manifest herself as after her heart wore out and
      her body lay cold in a box, six feet under dark, dank, solid earth.

      He was quiet for a few moments. Atruis had been bred to have common
      sense and good judgment. If he were to do as Rogue wished, he would
      be going against his better judgment. But she deserved to see
      herself for what she was, what she would become. What she always had

      "Alright. I'll do it." Atruis had a dim light in his eyes, and his
      voice was heavy and lined with doubt, but he would help her. She
      deserved that much at least.


      Now he faced his canvas, paints of all shades and colors surrounded
      him. It was a difficult decision to make, what shades to use for
      what. He wanted to bring out the vibrant green of her eyes, the rich
      brown of her mane, and the pearly white of her coat. And the horn,
      the horn had to be perfect. It represented her innocence, peace, and

      He stared down at the gold leaf, lying patently in clear plastic,
      waiting to be applied to the bland cream of the canvas. It would
      shine with all the color and vibrancy of the sun itself.

      Atruis was a kind man, and what he had seen when he dreamt of Rogue
      Marie was the most twistedly fascinating idea. She, herself, was so
      pure and vibrant that it almost hurt to look into her brilliance.
      But there were shadows all around. Waiting. For the perfect
      opportunity to strike down her brilliance, or at least dull it to an
      imperfect shine.

      It was the most horrifying experience he had ever gone through in his
      life. He had already painted portraits of several people since he
      had been there in his short six months.

      The professor had been an elemental spirit, all knowing and all-
      powerful. He had been gathering mutants and humans up in his clear
      arms. He had kept them all safe and warm in his comforting
      presence. It hung in his office, in the area near his desk, where
      all could admire its stunning realty.

      Jean had been a great red flower, blossoming in a small clearing in a
      dark patch of foreboding woods. A single ray of light had shone down
      upon her brilliance, signifying her hope and brightness. He had
      painted it with soft tones and short brush strokes. It hung her and
      her husband's room, right next to his, over their bed.

      Scotts painting was of a glorious stallion, running through the
      desert with his band of horses. Scott was a large stallion with
      brilliant ruby eyes. His coat was a glistening brown. His mane was
      silky and flying free, his tail held up in a large arc, like a flag.
      He was leading his horses, like the fearless leader that he was
      perceived to be.

      He had painted no more because he had dreamed no more. He had
      dreamed recently of Rogue, and then Logan. The dreams had disturbed
      him greatly. Rogue was an innocent unicorn, while Logan a fiery
      dragon. It was cosmic law that dragons and unicorns were never to
      love or even become allies with one another. Unicorns represented
      the ultimate virtue, while dragons represented the ultimate sin. It
      was impossible for them to live together.

      He did not want to paint either portrait, because then he would have
      to paint the other. He wanted both Rogue and the Wolverine to be
      happy and safe. He did not want them to worry about their souls, be
      he realized that they would never be in peace until they faced the
      reality that their souls would collide in a light so brilliant and
      hot, that every creature would burn. Only one could walk away from
      such an incident. In the case of Rogue and Logan, it would be evil
      against goodness. It was easier to follow the path of evil, so more
      people fell prey to that. But a large handful realized the true
      path, and they were the unicorn's followers.

      So Atruis started to paint.


      Atruis painted us.

      Marie and I.

      She was a pure white unicorn with a gold horn, brown mane, and large
      green eyes. She was rearing in a pool of shadows, all of them
      pulling at her, trying to pull her down. It was supposed to be
      Marie, drowning in the other minds that invaded her.

      I was a red dragon. Atruis painted what came to him in his dream. I
      can't say that I'm thankful for that.

      I was a ruby red dragon. My wings were outstretched, and my scales
      seemed to be on fire. I was flying above a herd of unicorns, and I
      was herding them towards a large fiery pit. I knew that the white
      creatures would burn alive in the pits of hell. Marie had looked
      horrified at my painting.

      When Atruis had announced what we were, everyone had gasped. No one
      wanted to believe that I was sin and Rogue was virtue. That we would
      collide, and one of us would kill the other. Only one of us was
      allowed to walk away, he said. Only one.

      The question is, which one is stronger than love?

      Evil, or Virtue?


      This is just the first in a series, and the next two are:

      How Do You Dream of Me?
      How Do You Perceive Me?
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.