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October Rust 1/1

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  • Swampfoetus@aol.com
    Title: October Rust Author: Cordelia LaMorte Rating:R Summery: intresting little ditty itty bitty gore fest ps please get me some feedback this is the second
    Message 1 of 2 , Jan 29, 2001
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      Title: October Rust
      Author: Cordelia LaMorte
      Rating:R
      Summery: intresting little ditty itty bitty gore fest

      ps please get me some feedback this is the second story I've posted and had
      absolutly no responce to (good or bad) needless to say it's aggitating


      Dic bant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicoe visitarem, curas meas auquantulum
      for levatas -Ebn Zaiat

      {My compains told me I might lighten my misery by visiting my dear ones grave}


      The air is cold outside, agaigo breezes filter through my unkept hair like
      fingers. I cast a glance up at the sky and frown. Beautiful. Pure azure no
      clouds at all. Smooth as that sapphire ring she wore on her midle finger, it
      was always hidden under gloves. Some leather, some the same nylon material
      that they make stockings out of. But you could always see the slight rise
      under the fabrics that encased her third left finger. At times when I meant
      to comfort her, I held her hand. It seemed to help, that sembalance of
      contact. Of knowing another person was there looking out for you. I know it
      helped me.

      I remeber really stupid moments. Like how we'd sit in the den and drink a
      beer. She would tongue the final drop from her bottle, slick pink flesh
      darting out to lick the ale...one of the most erotic things I've ever seen.
      When we were alone, I didn't care if she didn't wear her gloves, and I could
      see that ring. It was hammered of thin silver and the deep blue, deep as her
      accent, of the oval sapphire surrounded by two intricate flowers. I never
      really was sure where she got that ring. I don't remember her wearing any
      rings when she took off her gloves to put them by the heater back in the ice
      waste outside of Laughlin City. I do recall however that when she flexed her
      fingers thin tendons scratched the underside of her skin.

      I also retain this memory of a time when she coaxed me into going with her to
      the fair in Salem Center. They had this game with water riffles, where if you
      get some much water in your target you get a prize. We bet each other who
      would win and played. I was beating her and letting her know it, next thing I
      know the little vixon's spraying me with the water gun. Laughing at me and my
      wet self, as I gave her the teddy bear I'd won from the game and walked off
      trying to look angry even though I was really smirking at her prank.

      The ugly brown thing's still sitting on her bed.

      That was the last time she went with me to the fair. After that she went with
      the guy Storm brought home. I gave a silent cheer everytime he got to close
      and she pushed him away. Because she never pushed me away. I never thought he
      was very good for her, good in a fight, yes, but for her. Until the day I
      noticed she didn't push him away and I realized her made her happy, and she
      like wise.

      I could've impaled that red eyed ass the day I found him cat napping on her
      bed, the teddy bear I'd given her next to him, dirty shoes messing up the
      dark blue sheets of her bed. I completly ignored the fact that I'd done the
      same thing countless times. I noticed Rogue wasn't in there with him, though
      her faint sleepy scent still lingered.

      I laughed at her flirting/insults geared towards him. I sneered at his
      cockiness. It was sometime ago that I understood I was a bit jealous of their
      relationship, not because I wanted Rogue, though now I know I did, but
      because I was unwilling to share. She was my little paradise, my drinking
      buddy, my Kung Fu movie partner.

      One night when she was 18 and I had just come back for the second time I
      found her walking out the door, dressed for something that came out of a
      really bad S&M flick...or a really good one. Long streaked hair curled and
      but up in a messily artistic manner, shiny vinyl panties and bra and the rest
      of her covered in a shiny black film I would later learn to be liquid latex.
      Her legs long and slim, lightly muscled from long hours in the Danger Room,
      ampale cleavage incased in sex shop fantasy clothing.

      The X women are notoriously beautiful, each in their own way, Jean was that
      sophisticated type, Ororo's the exotic one, Betsy's that agressive beauty I
      used to find extremly attractive, but Rogue's the one with the innocent
      beauty. Though standing before me dressed like that she didn't look very
      innocent. She blushed and instantly the purity was back and I briefly
      entertained the mental image of her with a whip and some stilletos.

      "It ain't polite ta stare, shugah" she said fetching her keys of the black
      '67 BTX we rebuilt together last year.

      "Ain't ain't a word, and you ain't goin out dressed like that."

      "An' why not?" She looked slightly offended.

      "You look like a hooker" she flinched, I didn't regreat it.

      "It's Halloween, I'm going to a party with Gwen" Gwen was a mutant she'd meet
      outside the school, worked in a tattoo parler and had given her, her first
      tattoo, a black lotus on the small of her back. I'd accidently seen it when
      she'd bent over to pick something up and the hip huggers she had been wearing
      allowed for a peek. I'd mentioned it and she proudly displayed it to me.

      "You couldn't dress up as a witch?"

      She sighed, "Halloween is about dressing up as you aren't"

      "I thought it was a pagan holiday celebrating the dead."

      She giggled and said "You've been hangin 'round Hank to much" With that she
      left.Two weeks later Remy showed up.

      I remember so many things. Most about her. She became a regualr firecracker
      once she'd come out of her withdrawl. Full of life, but briming with that
      purple logic that would have made Lovecraft proud. She cared for me, she
      cared for others. I don't think she cared for herself though, not for a long
      time. That's one of the few things I'm willing to credit Remy with. He made
      her care about her self because he cared about her.

      I continue to walk the massaive acreage of Xavier's estate. I can smell the
      oreintal tang of blooming flowers in the Japanese Gardens. I ca also hear a
      car or two traveling the somewhat far off Graymalkin Lane. I'm geeting close.

      I remember her final night clearest though. We were on mission, Rogue, Gambit
      and I. Storm had revoked her original order that I stay at the mansion as a
      "modicum of contact" her words not mine. Remy flat out ignored Rogue's plea
      that he remain behind as well. Dangerous mission. But we are dangerous
      people.

      So we made it to this house that was rumored to hold the third volume of
      Irene Adler's Diaries. So we go in, everything's pretty quiet didn't like it.
      The house was in the middle of the sticks in Northern Florida, kinda swamp
      kinda forest. I didn't smell anybody as we entered, there hadn't been for
      some time, so we proceeded.

      The house was dirty, and I realized while scoping out the living room that
      the lamp shades were made of skin. I sniffed and frowned. Human skin. I
      remembered a story Rogue had told me once a long time ago, when she went
      through her detective phase, about a man in Wisconson named Ed Gein. He'd
      skin women and dry their flesh into leather use it at furniture. Same thing
      here. We split up because the house was monsterous. Rogue headed for the
      back, Gambit down the hallway I assume lead to bed rooms. I scoped out the
      front and middle section.

      I found a several razor blades from a package stained with rancid sepia
      blood, dried and cracked, in a small file tin that had been spray painted
      black. Gambit latter mentioned he'd found Kiddy Porn in the closet. We never
      found out what Rogue found in the back.

      I heard a screen door slam against it's jam, and looked up and caught the
      malodrous air, underlined with a mascoline odur. I shouted for the others to
      get out, Remy appeared first out of the hallway he'd begun to search. I heard
      Rogue's heels click on the teraza flooring as she made the long dash to the
      front. She finally appeared, pony tail barely holding on to the razed auburn
      and white curls she hadn't had time to straighten.

      She was almost to us when he stepped out of the kitchen next to her. Declan
      Wilona. An androgynous man with feathered black hair, I knew was dyed from
      the chemical smell, and white irises. Mutant. Never figured out his power
      don't care anymore. Blood dripped down his face from where he'd peeled his
      eyebrows of with a razor. Dressed in a leather tunic that buckled across the
      chest and sleaved his spider thin arms. Declan shoved Rogue against the wall.
      She kicked back with her boots, I dimly recognized as the ones she bought
      last year in the summer. He moved fast and I don't know why I didn't move
      then, I could have helped her. Saved her. He moved behind her and Rogue
      stopped fighting back. Her eyes dulled and focased on the two of us, but with
      out concentration. He pressed a bare hand to her face, his skin almost as
      pale as hers.

      "Pretty, pretty" he muttered in to her neck, before he wrentched it to the
      side violently. Her body tried to follow, but failed, and she hit the floor.
      Her skull making a loud pop sound against the hard floor leaking blood from
      the temple, but she was already gone. Her eyes never closed though. Chartruse
      and scared. They had to use a glue like substance to keep them closed I could
      smell it at the funneral, faintly acrylic. She'd been laid to rest holding
      scarlett chrysanthemums, that Storm and I'd known she liked.I don't know why
      she didn't get one of those instead of a black lotus for a tattoo. I also
      don't like the fact that they'll rot down there ontop of her chest, I don't
      think I can picture her rotting. I wonder if I dig her up in a year if she'll
      still be as fresh as the day I kicked her out then invited her back into the
      truck.

      I lungered at Declan my middle claw extended only. It slide into his cranium
      with a slick slide and retracted pulling with it gummy hard gray brain
      matter. I was shuddering at killing him so fast, should have drawn it out.
      Remy was pulling her up. And I winced at the twisted condition her neck was
      in and then I saw a familair dull metal chain. The dog tags. I reached down,
      pushing Remy out of the way, he was dumb founded and probably in shock. I
      grabbed her by jaw and yanked, straightning out the contorted column and
      hearing the unnerving sound of grating vertebra.

      I'm here. There a small deadend path adjacent to the Japanese Gardens that is
      secluded and surrounded by large trees that stnad as sentinals. At the bottom
      of the dead end is where we buried her. After several people began occuping
      her hidding place on the roof, she started coming here instead. Remy thought
      it fit. He was right. Thats where I found him. standing on the freshly turned
      soil, a richer brown than the rest. Fingering her sapphire ring. He'd kept
      it. I couldn't fault him. I might have done the same thing if I'd thought
      about it. Instead I had my tag returned. Ororo had brought it to me last
      night, she'd traded that for a pretty antique garnet and silver necklace.

      I wonder for a moment if he'd given her the ring but then disreguarded it as
      the memory returned of her complaining as she got the ring snagged while
      trying to take off her glove. That'd been before Gambit showed up.

      He was perched on his haunches twirling the ring around in goved palms.
      Duster spread out around him. He looked up at me, already red eyes surrounded
      by tear scortched skin. He rose to his full hieght, a little taller than me.
      It was then I realized how tiny Rogue had been she only reached to my
      shoulders and I'm 6'1. He frowned.

      "You should've known he was in dere, homme" I stared saying nothing because I
      knew it was true.

      fini




      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
    • Swampfoetus@aol.com
      Title: October Rust 1/1 Author: Cordelia LaMorte Rating: R graphic Summery: A few musing and a confrontation between Logan and Remy on Marie Disclaimer: I
      Message 2 of 2 , Feb 16 7:48 PM
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        Title: October Rust 1/1

        Author: Cordelia LaMorte

        Rating: R graphic

        Summery: A few musing and a confrontation between Logan and Remy on Marie

        Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Remy, Rogue, and Logan belong to Marvel and
        the genious that is Stan Lee and Crew. Fow owns Marie's concept as does Bryan
        Singer, I do however own Marie and Gambit action figures! This is my first
        posted fic for Xmen, at least for the movie version. Go me!

        Authors note: Does anyone besides me think Steven Dorff should play Gambit in
        the sequel?


        Dic bant mihi sodales, si sepulchrum amicoe visitarem, curas meas auquantulum
        for levatas -Ebn Zaiat

        {My compains told me I might lighten my misery by visiting my dear ones grave}


        The air is cold outside, Adagio breezes filter through my unkempt hair like
        fingers. I cast a glance up at the sky and frown. Beautiful. Pure azure no
        clouds at all. Smooth as that sapphire ring she wore on her middle finger, it
        was always hidden under gloves. Some leather, some the same nylon material
        that they make stockings out of. But you could always see the slight rise
        under the fabrics that encased her third left finger. At times when I meant
        to comfort her, I held her hand. It seemed to help, that semblance of
        contact. Of knowing another person was there looking out for you. I know it
        helped me.

        I remember really stupid moments. Like how we'd sit in the den and drink a
        beer. She would tongue the final drop from her bottle, slick pink flesh
        darting out to lick the ale...one of the most erotic things I've ever seen.
        When we were alone, I didn't care if she didn't wear her gloves, and I could
        see that ring. It was hammered of thin silver and the deep blue, deep as her
        accent, of the oval sapphire surrounded by two intricate flowers. I never
        really was sure where she got that ring. I don't remember her wearing any
        rings when she took off her gloves to put them by the heater back in the ice
        waste outside of Laughlin City. I do recall however that when she flexed her
        fingers thin tendons scratched the underside of her skin.

        I also retain this memory of a time when she coaxed me into going with her to
        the fair in Salem Center. They had this game with water riffles, where if you
        get some much water in your target you get a prize. We bet each other who
        would win and played. I was beating her and letting her know it, next thing I
        know the little vixen's spraying me with the water gun. Laughing at me and my
        wet self, as I gave her the teddy bear I'd won from the game and walked off
        trying to look angry even though I was really smirking at her prank.

        The ugly brown thing's still sitting on her bed.

        That was the last time she went with me to the fair. After that she went with
        the guy Storm brought home. I gave a silent cheer every time he got to close
        and she pushed him away. Because she never pushed me away. I never thought he
        was very good for her, good in a fight, yes, but for her. Until the day I
        noticed she didn't push him away and I realized her made her happy, and she
        like wise.

        I could've impaled that red eyed ass the day I found him cat napping on her
        bed, the teddy bear I'd given her next to him, dirty shoes messing up the
        dark blue sheets of her bed. I completely ignored the fact that I'd done the
        same thing countless times. I noticed Rogue wasn't in there with him, though
        her faint sleepy scent still lingered.

        I laughed at her flirting/insults geared towards him. I sneered at his
        cockiness. It was sometime ago that I understood I was a bit jealous of their
        relationship, not because I wanted Rogue, though now I know I did, but
        because I was unwilling to share. She was my little paradise, my drinking
        buddy, my Kung Fu movie partner.

        One night when she was 18 and I had just come back for the second time I
        found her walking out the door, dressed for something that came out of a
        really bad S&M flick...or a really good one. Long streaked hair curled and
        but up in a messily artistic manner, shiny vinyl panties and bra and the rest
        of her covered in a shiny black film I would later learn to be liquid latex.
        Her legs long and slim, lightly muscled from long hours in the Danger Room,
        ample cleavage incased in sex shop fantasy clothing.

        The X women are notoriously beautiful, each in their own way, Jean was that
        sophisticated type, Ororo's the exotic one, Betsy's that aggressive beauty I
        used to find extremely attractive, but Rogue's the one with the innocent
        beauty. Though standing before me dressed like that she didn't look very
        innocent. She blushed and instantly the purity was back and I briefly
        entertained the mental image of her with a whip and some stilettos.

        "It ain't polite ta stare, shugah" she said fetching her keys of the black
        '67 BTX we rebuilt together last year.

        "Ain't ain't a word, and you ain't goin out dressed like that."

        "An' why not?" She looked slightly offended.

        "You look like a hooker" she flinched, I didn't regret it.

        "It's Halloween, I'm going to a party with Gwen" Gwen was a mutant she'd meet
        outside the school, worked in a tattoo parlor and had given her, her first
        tattoo, a black lotus on the small of her back. I'd accidentally seen it when
        she'd bent over to pick something up and the hip huggers she had been wearing
        allowed for a peek. I'd mentioned it and she proudly displayed it to me.

        "You couldn't dress up as a witch?"

        She sighed, "Halloween is about dressing up as you aren't"

        "I thought it was a pagan holiday celebrating the dead."

        She giggled and said "You've been hangin 'round Hank to much" With that she
        left.Two weeks later Remy showed up.

        I remember so many things. Most about her. She became a regular firecracker
        once she'd come out of her withdrawal. Full of life, but brimming with that
        purple logic that would have made Lovecraft proud. She cared for me, she
        cared for others. I don't think she cared for herself though, not for a long
        time. That's one of the few things I'm willing to credit Remy with. He made
        her care about her self because he cared about her.

        I continue to walk the massive acreage of Xavier's estate. I can smell the
        oriental tang of blooming flowers in the Japanese Gardens. I ca also hear a
        car or two traveling the somewhat far off Graymalkin Lane. I'm getting close.

        I remember her final night clearest though. We were on mission, Rogue, Gambit
        and I. Storm had revoked her original order that I stay at the mansion as a
        "modicum of contact" her words not mine. Remy flat out ignored Rogue's plea
        that he remain behind as well. Dangerous mission. But we are dangerous
        people.

        So we made it to this house that was rumored to hold the third volume of
        Irene Adler's Diaries. So we go in, everything's pretty quiet didn't like it.
        The house was in the middle of the sticks in Northern Florida, kinda swamp
        kinda forest. I didn't smell anybody as we entered, there hadn't been for
        some time, so we proceeded.

        The house was dirty, and I realized while scooping out the living room that
        the lamp shades were made of skin. I sniffed and frowned. Human skin. I
        remembered a story Rogue had told me once a long time ago, when she went
        through her detective phase, about a man in Wisconsin named Ed Gein. He'd
        skin women and dry their flesh into leather use it at furniture. Same thing
        here. We split up because the house was monstrous. Rogue headed for the back,
        Gambit down the hallway I assume lead to bed rooms. I scooped out the front
        and middle section.

        I found a several razor blades from a package stained with rancid sepia
        blood, dried and cracked, in a small file tin that had been spray painted
        black. Gambit later mentioned he'd found Kiddy Porn in the closet. We never
        found out what Rogue found in the back.

        I heard a screen door slam against it's jam, and looked up and caught the
        malodorous air, underlined with a masculine odor. I shouted for the others to
        get out, Remy appeared first out of the hallway he'd begun to search. I heard
        Rogue's heels click on the terrazzo flooring as she made the long dash to the
        front. She finally appeared, pony tail barely holding on to the razed auburn
        and white curls she hadn't had time to straighten.

        She was almost to us when he stepped out of the kitchen next to her. Declan
        Wilona. An androgynous man with feathered black hair, I knew was dyed from
        the chemical smell, and white irises. Mutant. Never figured out his power
        don't care anymore. Blood dripped down his face from where he'd peeled his
        eyebrows of with a razor. Dressed in a leather tunic that buckled across the
        chest and sleeved his spider thin arms. Declan shoved Rogue against the wall.
        She kicked back with her boots, I dimly recognized as the ones she bought
        last year in the summer. He moved fast and I don't know why I didn't move
        then, I could have helped her. Saved her. He moved behind her and Rogue
        stopped fighting back. Her eyes dulled and focused on the two of us, but
        without concentration. He pressed a bare hand to her face, his skin almost as
        pale as hers.

        "Pretty, pretty" he muttered in to her neck, before he wrenched it to the
        side violently. Her body tried to follow, but failed, and she hit the floor.
        Her skull making a loud pop sound against the hard floor leaking blood from
        the temple, but she was already gone. Her eyes never closed though.
        Chartreuse and scared. They had to use a glue like substance to keep them
        closed I could smell it at the funeral, faintly acrylic. She'd been laid to
        rest holding scarlet chrysanthemums, that Storm and I'd known she liked. I
        don't know why she didn't get one of those instead of a black lotus for a
        tattoo. I also don't like the fact that they'll rot down there on top of her
        chest, I don't think I can picture her rotting. I wonder if I dig her up in a
        year if she'll still be as fresh as the day I kicked her out then invited her
        back into the truck.

        I lunged at Declan my middle claw extended only. It slide into his cranium
        with a slick slide and retracted pulling with it gummy hard gray brain
        matter. I was shuddering at killing him so fast, should have drawn it out.
        Remy was pulling her up. And I winced at the twisted condition her neck was
        in and then I saw a familiar dull metal chain. The dog tags. I reached down,
        pushing Remy out of the way, he was dumb founded and probably in shock. I
        grabbed her by jaw and yanked, straightening out the contorted column and
        hearing the unnerving sound of grating vertebra.

        I'm here. There a small dead-end path adjacent to the Japanese Gardens that
        is secluded and surrounded by large trees that stand as sentinels. At the
        bottom of the dead end is where we buried her. After several people began
        occupying her hiding place on the roof, she started coming here instead. Remy
        thought it fit. He was right. That's where I found him. standing on the
        freshly turned soil, a richer brown than the rest. Fingering her sapphire
        ring. He'd kept it. I couldn't fault him. I might have done the same thing if
        I'd thought about it. Instead I had my tag returned. Ororo had brought it to
        me last night, she'd traded that for a pretty antique garnet and silver
        necklace.

        I wonder for a moment if he'd given her the ring but then disregarded it as
        the memory returned of her complaining as she got the ring snagged while
        trying to take off her glove. That'd been before Gambit showed up.

        He was perched on his haunches twirling the ring around in gloved palms.
        Duster spread out around him. He looked up at me, already red eyes surrounded
        by tear scorched skin. He rose to his full height, a little taller than me.
        It was then I realized how tiny Rogue had been she only reached to my
        shoulders and I'm 6'1. He frowned.

        "You should've known he was in dere, homme" I stared saying nothing because I
        knew it was true.

        fini




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