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

FIC: "Brotherly Love: Interludes" PG-13 (4/6) [Scott angst fic...guest starring Storm]

Expand Messages
  • TrinityVixen@aol.com
    This chapter features my take on Ororo s back story in just another effort to bring to light her background as it pertains to the Summers brothers history...
    Message 1 of 1 , Sep 10, 2000
    • 0 Attachment
      This chapter features my take on Ororo's back story in just another effort to bring to light her background as it pertains to the Summers' brothers history...

      Disclaimers etc. can be found in part one...


      Ororo Munroe stood naked in her room. The skylight to the attic apartment of the mansion was wide open. The beautiful sun warmed her skin as no blanket or shirt had ever done. Her door was never locked, but all the mansion's inhabitants respected one another's privacy, so intruders would always announce themselves first.

      Sunshine. She was happy. No, not happy, but vented. The night before, Ororo's rage and pain fell from the sky in a thousand tears whereas she had only physically shed one of her own. The Professor discouraged wanton lapses of control, especially when a mutant's powers were as fierce as hers, but he had allowed her to rant and cry.

      A cold shower of rain and lightening always improved her spirits and purged unpleasant thoughts away and into pockets in her mind. Ororo closed her eyes and held her hands aloft. Small gray clouds hovered just over her chocolate fingertips. Electricity danced at the edge of her fingernails as the miniature rain clouds opened a warm shower just for her. Closing her eyes and twirling in the sun shower, Ororo could almost imagine herself back in Kenya enjoying the storms that had combed her former home.

      The clouds rumbled, and lightening streaked around their surface. Her childhood had been happy until her powers had surfaced. All along, she had known herself to be special, but not until the earth spoke to her as its mutant mouth to the world did she understand what she was meant to be.

      The others in her village had never understood the way she had.

      //// The sky was so beautiful. The blue was that of mother's eyes, the blue of her eyes, too. The child with the white hair danced in the tall grass, blissfully at peace with the beautiful day. The clouds, which shared their color with her hair, formed shapes for her to see. Cloud lions stalked cloud zebra over her head.

      She never saw the rock that tripped her skipping feet. As she fell, terror filled her young heart. All she wanted was to avoid the fall, to be unhurt. Wishing it in the half-second she had before impact would never be enough, and she steadied herself, ready to land on her arms instead of her head. She closed her eyes and waited for the ground to rush up and bite at her skin.

      After a minute of waiting, she opened her eyes. Instead of ground coming closer, there was only ground flying away from her. Her hair flew around her eyes, whipped by a gale that propelled it and her entire body away from the earth. New panic struck a staccato beat in her heart. How would she ever get down? What if she were to fly away and never see her village again? What if the nomads found her and stole her from her family forever?

      As if to calm her, the wind died a little, dropping her gently to a few feet above the ground. Wild-eyed and frightened, she cried out for help. Her scream thundered in her ears and echoed through the valley.

      "Ororo! My love! Where have you got to? Where are you?" The loving and concerned tone of her mother gave her comfort. In the same tongue of her thoughts, she called out again. Her mother appeared at the crest of a hill, her eyes frantically seeking out her lost child. When they rested on the young girl's floating body, her eyes seemed to roll back in her head. Seeing her mother stagger, she reached for her. She would never make it; her mother would fall as she was supposed to have done.

      The winds stretched out around her; she saw the invisible wings of current. They enfolded her mother's body as they had hers, tossing her into the air and towards her. She clung to her mother, crying, her feet dangling in the air. She wanted to be on the ground again, even if it meant falling with her mother crushing on top of her.

      Obeying her commands, the winds drew away to fly over the distant plains; she plummeted to the ground with her unconscious mother. The jarring pain made her cry; it woke her mother rudely from her senselessness. Suddenly, they were back, together, on the ground, with neither sure how or what had brought them there. ////

      A loud crack of thunder stirred Ororo from her disturbing memory. Sighing, she focused on retracting the clouds that had spread from her attic. The small puffs of condensed water that had been bathing her had grown while she had immersed herself in her past. They now spread out over the mansion like the dark fingers of some ancient deity. Regaining control was a matter of calming herself and retreating into her placid countenance.

      Satisfied with her result, Ororo tried to focus once more on her shower, but her mind refused to obey any commands with which she instructed it. The memories of Kenya, her first connection to the elements, they all inevitably drew her to the final ending, the same event that had caused her to ruin the weather the night before.

      //// "She's possessed by a demon!"

      They all stared now, eyeing her mane of colorless hair. Her white hair was not so unique. There were legends of white children born to dark parents. They were all white and had red eyes. They were not demons; they were cursed children. So why was she then a demon and not merely a victim? Her mother had brought her to the doctor, her tongue exaggerating the incident with the winds. The doctor's superstitious fear had convinced him to bring her abilities to the attention of the village as a whole.

      And now the adults insulted her while she stood a ways away from them, standing where she was bidden. Under no circumstances was she to call the winds again; her mother forbade it. She heard the doctor say the winds were spirits she had stolen to give her power. That made no sense to her. It had been wind, glorious and free that had lifted her up just like the vultures that soared overhead.

      "Demoness!" A rock hit her squarely on the back. She turned to see its owner. Several children stood behind her, all them clutching large stones. Facing her was a different matter than just throwing the rocks. They all gulped down fear, even as she tried to look helpless.

      "Spirit-stealer!" They let the rocks fly. Their aims were poor, but still she felt the sting of the rocks cutting her skin. They closed in, taking switches to her, raking her with the dead branches. She prayed, as she had done that morning, prayed for protection from injury.

      The clouds formed around their heads, but still the children came at her. Their parents were afraid of her; _they_ were afraid. Black clouds blotted out the sun. The rumbling of the mighty skies was nothing compared to the children's shouting. She called to the clouds for help, and she heard their answer. The clouds buzzed, the power locked within them speaking directly to her brain. They were coming, coming down from their safety in the sky, coming to carry her up to their haven in the heavens.

      They came as droplets. She felt the cool water slide around her body, and yet knew that none of it had touched her. The clouds dropped onto those around her. They beat her until they noticed the water. Yelping, they ran, shouting for their parents to come and save them. They saw how the rain missed her skin. Their fear increased the volume of their cries.

      She felt the winds draw her up. They cradled her as her mother once had. The bravest children threw more rocks, but the wind drove them away. One imbedded itself into the ground with enough force to shake the earth itself. Another whipped right back at the child who had thrown it, the crack of the impact breaking his arm. Parents' screams joined in with those of their children. They all stared at her. What had she done wrong? They had tried to hurt her. Her only friends, her only _true_ friends, had reached out to protect her, nothing more. She had no pact with devils. The winds were not evil, nor were the clouds or the rain.

      The others did not understand. Her mother shouted for her to be released. Her mother did not speak to her but to the wicked demons that held her child prisoner. The doctor and the holy man clung to pages of text and cited prayers together, prayers that were meant to sever her ties to the dark forces. She was scared, and all they would do was tell her she was in league with wicked creatures. She cried; the clouds rained her tears a thousand fold.

      At what point they stopped praying for her, she did not know. They scattered before her, running from the driving winds that swatted at them and their dwellings. She wailed until she could barely breathe. The winds cut themselves off as she fainted away. She only remembered falling and wishing that she had done so earlier. If only she had fallen, then none of this would have happened.

      They did not want her any more. She was a devil. She had eaten Ororo's soul and inhabited her body. Evil, fiendish, wicked, demonic creature. They hurled stones at her; her mother shouted at the heavens for having taken her good soul away and for giving her body up to malevolent spirits.

      She felt their stones scrape and tear her skin, but she could not summon the winds to drive them away, to protect her once more. Beyond her grasp of understanding, there laid the winds that had obeyed her command. Why weren't they coming to her aid now? A mile away from the village, the last child turned and ran from her for the safety of his parents' dwelling. She was alone, now, with only the winds and clouds for friends, and they were hiding, too.

      How was she to survive this way? Was she truly evil? She felt no different, save for her connection to the natural wonders of the sky. Was that the wickedness? Then why did it feel so natural...so right? Perhaps the holy man knew better; he was the wiser being.

      *Then I must be the fiendish spirit they say*. Resigned to her failing, she did not notice the winds return to sweep her off her feet and farther away. They tried to whisper to her, to make her listen to their rhythm as she had done before.

      All she could do was weep for a home she no longer had. ////

      The thunder rumbled louder, and rain fell, once more in the place of tears. Ororo crouched down as the downpour opened upon the mansion and rushed towards her. At the last minute, she realized she could not allow the rain to simply flood into the mansion through her roof. She blocked it from falling on her through the open skylight.

      Staring up at the dark clouds, Ororo relived the terror that had once possessed her child's heart. To be different was to be feared. For years, as a mutant and an X-Man, she had learned this but never accepted it. But if her tribe had not been the least of those who would forever curse and hate mutants, how could they ever combat the human tide? She had been driven from her home by hatred, hatred in the hearts of those she had trusted and loved and who had once done the same unto her.

      Would that song be true for all mutants? When the Professor had rescued her from the streets of Cairo, he had promised that such would not be the case. Scott had told her so when she and the Professor returned from Africa. Scott's confidence had been hers at the time. Now she knew that Scott's confidence had been hope and only that. He had no reason to believe any of the promises if his past had been anything akin to her own. So why did he believe?

      *Or more importantly: Does he? Do I?* Ororo shivered. The goose bumps on her flesh attested to the cold and damp weather above her sheltered head. Sighing, she reached for her robe and pulled it around her lithe frame. As she walked over to work the machinery to close the skylight, her mind called out to her mentor.

      [[[ Professor? ]]]

      ***To Be Continued in Part 5****
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.