Chapter 1
The snowdrops land softly on cars' roofs, parking unprotected as if kissing gently. A hurdle of people hold their own hands and close their coats tightly. Many houses in the area are slowly gaining a white aesthetic so charmingly. The windows of many houses are tightly closed, cars on the road are passing fast, and even so many eyes are paying attention to the news display on the TV thanks to the electronics shop.
It's broadcasting about one of America's latest hot topics. One no-full-blood American can't stop opening.
“They need to return to where they come from!” A voice berates and scolds as hateful eyes are on the image.
“But they saved the kids…if they weren't there…”
“They aren't like us!”
“They are heroes!”
It's a heated debate in the News Channel as a professor of Michigan's Univerisity is trying to educate people on the matter, yet, some of the other guests have strong opinions as passionate as she. Outside the TV, many onlookers can't help but add their own 2 cents.
Meanwhile, in a modest suburban area. A house is not only being hit by snow, slowly but surely covering their balcony has a big spacious, cozy, and warm living room.
The living room is dotted with a red couch, with comfy pillows. Many photos and paintings of the residents and a modest TV show a blonde woman talking and pointing, rather comically, about the green screen.
“The winter is coming…They always say the next winter will be worse” A man with a prominent mustache announced heartily as the TV Show entered in a small break for commercials. His eyes scan his companion, his wife. “Do you think…”
His wife has a channel hairstyle, a round face, and brown eyes. Her lips are pink but there's no smile ebbing. Her eyes are vacant as she stares at the window, there is just snow.
“The news may be overreacting. Last year they said something similar. Much panic for naught” The man's companion forces a chuckle as his eyes are rooted on her form. The woman didn't respond for another moment.
The woman sighs. “I know…it's just…I'm scared…Cameron, I'm afraid…we don't know enough. What if they hurt us? Or Kitty?” the woman looks up at the ceiling as if could sense what is happening on the second floor. Her face is steel, as she is back looking at her husband.
“Terry, listen to me,” Cameron asks as he puts his remote control down. “Everything will be safe. Our daughter…is safe. There's no….” Cameron struggles to find words as his eyes are staring at the ceiling contemplatively. “Muties won't hurt us nor our daughter…we’ll be fine” promised as if his words can't be challenged.
Terry is wary. “Those folks in Texas thought the same…and their son was lynched!” The story is horrible. The crowd serves justice, per se, but what console can be offered for the family? Terry muses, rather darkly, how would play out if her JEWISH daughter was on the receiving end. Hate is a feeling that never really stops, it may change the target but is always there.
Terry then speaks remembering others' stories. “I saw that case…of the girl who killed her parents. She had some power, forget what it was” It feels as if is a faux pax on her part, in an age where powers are real how can YOU forget how a teen murdered her family? “All I know is…she is on the loose. I also heard about a mutant who controls the weather…”
Cameron is feeling like a comedian now. “I think muties like this have more to worry about than invade our house” Cameron jest, holding her hand, his smile dying off. “We can't live as if something will attack us…this is not life! Plus, we are completely average. It may sound an insult but in the grand scheme of things where people can fly and control the weather…us being run of the mill is an asset” console Cameron is rewarded with his wife nodding her head.
The commercial break is over. Now, the movie is playing.
Everything shall be set for this to be a lovely night. Snow is dropping so candidly, that everything suddenly looks better. Terry has a lazy smile all of a sudden on her lips. Yes, everything will be fine.
The movie is playing…and Terry cannot remember the name, all she knows is that everything will be fine. Her eyes lazily move up to see the ceiling as if she can see her daughter in her room, safe and sound.
Everything will be fine.
In the room on the second floor, there lays a room with a big Star Wars logo, which is the room of Kitty Pryde. A young girl in full girlhood as she lays splayed in the bed. “Could you …cancel the winter?” asked somewhat petulantly while scrubbing her nose.
Her room is richly decorated with Garfield and Star Wars merch, some of which do mingle like a mock poster where Garfiel is a parody of Star Wars.
Her question is directed to the ethereal being in her room, hovering above the flooring, with no feet but her shadow allows small flowers to grow. Her form is covered in a color barring from green to blue, her hair is covered with leaves, some small creatures are hanging there- it appears one or two ladybugs are on the top of her head- and her giggles are in a melodic sound. “Hm, I could…but no one would have liked that. Kids love snow days!” informed the being in an amusing tone.
The bedsheets have flowers draw sunflowers. There are daises in many colors birthing in the leg of the bed covering slowly and moving to another leg. Kitty Pryde´s hair is spread on the fluffy pillow resembling a halo. Her doe eyes are on the ceiling and snap to the window, the snow is increasing. “But…I´ve nothing to do, nothing.” Kitty´s right check puffs.
Kitty looks back to her door to see covered in flowers. Green, blue, pink, yellow, and purple. It´s a knowing fact that there are no daises purple in the world. Kitty comes forth, gingerly touching the flower sprout in her bed. “You can create flowers even in my bed. Like, my bed is nothing remotely close to a garden…” Kitty holds her chin with her thumb. “I thought your powers work if you are in the ground”
Zaorva giggles. “You´re trying to understand my powers but you´re still going on the wrong way” confesses in good humor as Kitty studies the flowers, even the perfume is wonderful. The ethereal being continues her explanation, now crafting a flower crowed between her fingers. The flowers appear to look like Lillies, except, they are way bigger than a normal lily should be and the color is a shade of purple…Kitty can´t remember if she ever saw it before.
Zaorva gently puts the flower crowed in her head. It´s as if she´s crowing her indeed. “My powers work simply, if I think in create…it shall do. Life will find a way,” and adds in an afterthought way. “I can create life if I want to, I just have to think…but I can also just think of life and nothing happens” Zaorva smiles at Kitty´s miffed expression.
Kitty admires her flower crowed, knowing damn well how the weather will be proved impossible to craft a cover story for said flowers if her parents ever see it. “Zaorva…” Kitty now feels as if she needs to ask this question. “Why are you here?”
Zaorva hummed an old song or maybe a modern song, unclear to say as Zaorva sometimes likes to give small spoilers of the future to Kitty. For example, when the prequels were announced Zaorva spoiled the whole idea and how Anakin Skywalker and Sand is a huge turn point, or in other cases, Zaorva sings songs that will still be written. Britney Spear´s songs still don´t exist and Kitty knows the lyrics.
So…Kitty can assume this particular song may be from the future.
Zaorva smiles. It's comforting. “Hm, I told you before” Zaorva creates more as she slowly turns Kitty´s small room into a small creek, in a literal sense. Her tone gets sweeter. “I´m here on vacation and…working at the same time” There is a space in the now creek room where one can see Garfield merch hovering in the air. “I´m really good at my work, my family says I never miss a paperwork…” and pauses to mull her words. “We don´t actually use real paperwork, but is a nice way to explain, I guess. I´m efficient.”
“Perks of not being able to sleep,” Zaorva reveals with such giddy energy matching her eyes, which now are in a soft blue hue. The room is getting a small river. The water in the river not only is possible to drink-as Kitty rose from the bed to drink a nice glass of water- but it´s so crystalline.
Kitty´s face lit up. Turning to Zaorva and feeling bold and even secure to ask more. “You hardly talk about your family…does the fair folk, hm, work a lot?” Kitty asked enchanted by her friend´s origin.
Zaorva contemplates such a question. “Yes, They do…they have their jobs, if we can call as such” informed calmly. “I don´t like to talk much about them…it would be a very difficult topic for you to understand as….they aren´t humans” Zaorva concludes much to Kitty´s chagrin.
Kitty is downcast. “It´s just…you know so much about my family…can you tell me something about yours?” pleads a very curious Kitty.
Zaorva gazes into Kitty´s eyes. Kitty had the feeling she could see herself through Zaorva.
“I´ve a twin sister…her job is death” Zaorva responds with a tone of finality and creates trees now. Each tree, crafted in a span of seconds, has fruits in man sizes, shapes, and, of course, colors.
Faes can't use each other's names…so I guess she is very tight-lipped about her sister's name. Also, faes don´t work like us, I mean…maybe her sister is the equivalent of a killer or a warrior.
“Ok, so…can I ask you something else?” Kitty asked as her feet were touching the softest grass one can imagine, it almost felt like cotton. “Why did you pick me?” Kitty scratches her head and speaks her mind. “I´m not exactly a magical user nor have any relation with magic…The Avengers have the Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver…why me?”
Zaorva hummed again as she snapped her fingers and the room was nothing more than a regular room.
Kitty remembers oh so vividly how she met the impossible aka Zaorva. Some bullies, in the camping, wanted to play a mean prank on her. Kitty would certainly fall through if Zaorva hadn´t intervened.
But …Zaorva never specifies what type of fae she is.
“Oh, you want something complex and nuanced. I know you do, but Kitty this was all aleatory” Zaorva flashes a friendly grin. “A classic case of right place, right time. Nothing more or less, you´re not the chosen one” Zaorva laughs amused as Kitty sighs in relief. “Nor is a long lost princess. It´s a probability, the chances of a human meeting a fair folk are 1% in this world, but 1 is not 0”
Kitty blinks and relief washes away as her back lays on the bed. “Thank god. I´d hate to be a missing princess…” Her eyes focus on Zaorva. “Being a chosen one is …not great, kids often, in those stories, have miserable lives. I don´t like it. They obey so blindly to the status quo. I don´t like that”
“Many of those stories, Kitty, are designed to sell, of course.” Zaorva rolls her eyes slightly peeved. Muttering how creativity suffers under capitalism. “But it also serves to inspire you, yes, we can be mad that the wizard kid became a cop” Zaorva feigns lamenting. Kitty rolls her eyes “Harry Potter sucks” is Kitty´s only response.
Zaorva continues. “My point is, no one is writing your story aside you. Do you want changes? You can make it. No need to be a wizard cop” Zaorva amends by saying ow the future is uncertain but is up to Kitty to make her choices, it won´t be easy and it will have obstacles but she can do it.
Kitty is carefully absorbing those words. The future is hers and Kitty Pryde can decide what she can be or do. It´s refreshing as it´s frightening.
A question pops in Kitty Pryde´s mind. In all her 13 years of maturity, facing such a powerful friend, the girl has to ask one essential question. “Will I be pretty?” Kitty asked feeling pangs of shame. There is so much more in her future to worry about than whether she is pretty or not.
Except Sarah Jonson´s comment on Kitty´s looks is still ingrained in her mind. Kitty is not ugly, she´s plain, average, and boring.
Everyone thinks Sarah is pretty
She is so popular.
And I´m hm…just there.
Such a quintessential thing for a girl to ask, especially if her friend can see the future. Zaorva is gazing into her form, into her soul. Kitty gulps but never breaks eye contact. A part of her tells how she can never break eye contact even if her room suddenly is on fire.
But Zaorva wouldn´t ever put me in danger….
“Changes are inevitable, they will come whether you are ready or not. Puberty will be a new thing for you, it´s already new now.” Zaorva commences knowing all too well this is not what Kitty asked. “As for your looks, yes, you´ll be a very pretty woman…but there is a detail to consider” Zaorva pauses as Kitty whimpers. “You know what I´m talking about…”
Kitty closes her eyes but still sees Zaorva gazing upon her. “I´m a mutant” lifts her hands and gently phases through the bed, returning to put her hands above the bed as if nothing is ever wrong. “What…what does this mean for me?” her voice is small, her eyes are fearful and hopefully waits for Zaorva´s response.
“Like I said change is inevitable, but you won´t be alone. Your powers also…won´t hurt you nor you ever hurt anyone,” Zaorva promised playing with Kitty´s hair. “Good things are coming your way, Kitty, bad things are coming your way too.”
No more questions.
Kitty is still trying to grasp what she just heard. Admitting she is a mutant at least for herself is a big step. Life won´t be easy but Kitty is Jewish, a woman, and a mutant now. When life was ever easy?
People will label me as…
Zaorva shakes her head. “Don´t let others label you, actually. Labels are one of the silliest things you, humans, could have created. No one can be defined with one word, it´s impossible. You´re Jewish, identify as a woman and a mutant but there are more on Kitty Pryde than those 3 words, ok?”
Kitty nods weekly. “Can you tell me more about my future?”
“No! If you know too much…won´t be able to handle what will come through, trust me, I´ve seen precog who were driven mad by wanting to see the future, case point, Irene Adler, she lost her marbles, as you humans say, by wanting to see everything. She is blind and insane” Zaorva gives the shortest introduction regarding this woman.
Apparently, Irene Adler is a mutant who can see the future…she wrote diaries about the big events but…in her pursuit to see more…ended up losing her mind. She is in a relationship with a mutant known as Mystique…whose goals are up to anyone's guesses.
Kitty can taste the uncertainty and can only imagine how her life will play out. Phasing is a lame power, if you ask her opinion, but it is her power.
“Do you want me to train you?” Zaorva asked noticing how stiff Kitty was. “I can´t spoil the future for you, but I can help you” promised Zaorva.
Such a promise makes Kitty smile at ease. “Will you? I´ve no idea what to do” confessed not even feeling shame about it. Kitty primes for being a smart girl and always getting good grades but being a mutant is not the same as taking an exam.
Zaorva nods. “Have I ever lied to you? No. We´re friends and I want to help you. Friends do help each other”
Kitty agrees grateful and asks when they can train. Zaorva can´t train Kitty now…she needs to return to her office-it´s not a literal office, but is the best word to describe for a human- but promise soon she´ll return and train.
“You'll return tomorrow?” Kitty asked already knowing the answer. It almost feels as if Kitty, in all the ridiculousness of such an idea, is casting a spell.
“Of course” Zaorva promised ruffing Kitty's fluffy hair gaining a soft chuckle from the teen girl.
I can't wait for the future. The future is coming whether I want it or not.
An oval office in the centerfold is taken by flooring, the rest is devoid of flooring. A man in a wheelchair has his eyes rolling through his skull, his mouth is frothing and drooling and many sounds of beeps are echoing through the area.
Charles Xavier’s helmet is emitting a red light. “Professor!” a worried voice screams. “PROFESSOR X CAN YOU HEAR ME!” asked again slowly attempting to disconnect the helmet - one Professor X wears every night- and is rewarded by Charles Xavier's blue eyes return.
His breath is ragged and uneven, cold sweat is dripping from his entire body even from his now-naked bald head. His name is shouted more than 2 times and still the man can't answer.
Grogrilly, with his mouth dry. Xavier speaks still feeling his heart beating as if it would explode. “Beast. Hank MCcoy. I hear you” Xavier promised now seeing his fellow student clearly. “I…felt something…” it's his words and it dies on his lips.
What was that? What could possibly be that?
Scarlet Witch's magic is powerful sure but….no, it doesn't register as magic.
I don't know what was that.
What I saw…have no idea.
Beast wants to move Professor X's wheelchair and shield him away from the damage. It's illogical, Charles Xavier is one of the strongest mutants I know. This can only mean… “I think we should take a look at Cerberus” Beast frowns directing his hard gaze to the machines. Cerebrus is connected to computers, which in turn, connects the X-men to the world.
“The machine is not the problem, Hank,” Charles spoke moving his wheelchair with his mind. Professor X moves forward and Beast follows behind. “I felt something way above the regular classification”
Beast raises his eyebrows. “You felt an omega?” Hank inquired mulling some theories. The last omega we had was Ororo Monroe but while her powers are impressive…it never led to such a reaction. “A new telepath, perhaps?”
Professor X considers this hypothesis. Jean Grey has such massive power. She can grow even more … but doubt would be anything like that. “I don't know…maybe” concedes.
“It felt as if this source would open my mind and then sew it, several times” Professor X explained perplexed and utterly fascinated. This power…who is this person? Jean Grey is powerful even if I had to block some of her memories and powers. Emma Frost will be powerful…but whoever was this? It's another level.
Beast is left with his own theories. Professor X will share with him if necessary. Beast inwardly wonders if his fearless leader was here…if then Professor X would open up.
(Edit)
Professor X is busy theorizing and plotting. I felt for a second a human presence…Did I? His thoughts are usually powerful, his thoughts are absolute but …tonight his thoughts are nothing more than mere synapses of a mere man, nothing more.
“Beast, you'll not talk about this to anyone” Professor X speaks in a cordial tone. Friendly even as his wheelchair is not touching the ground. “Whatever happens here must be a secret”
Beast grimaces. “You've my loyalty. I won't tell a soul” promised promptly and proudly looking up to Professor X. Meanwhile is speculating on Omega mutants. Such mutants could, in theory, be on a God level. Wanda Maximoff could reach such a level even if she is just a girl. Even if she is the same age as Jean now.
“I know…but I can’t take any chance!” Professor X said albeit a tab bit remorseful as his blue eyes are fixated on Beast. In less than a second, Beast’s thoughts were ripped away from him.
“That's why I think we need more adjustments on Danger Room” Hank concludes his presentation. Professor X is not very knee on upgrades but surely after Hank McCoy’s dutiful research, it persuades the man to see reason.
“I trust you, Hank. Do the upgrades you feel it's needed” Charles Xavier agreed as if he really heard such a presentation. As if he were the audience of pros and cons of why Beast must be the one to handle Danger Room.
Beast is pleased as well relieved. “I believe our fearless leader was correct in the assumption we need to train more. The last battle with Magneto was …won by sheer luck” Beast wastes no time to go to Danger Room's moodboard.
Professor X says some pleasantries and leaves.
What is this? What could possibly be that?
Jean Grey is entering womanhood. Her mother once said that it is a wonderful thing. Her mother never accounted for Jean being such a powerful mutant nor leading the life she does now. I can't complain…I can’t complain.
Jean lays in her bed…staring at the ceiling. Flashes of a beautiful creek play in her mind. In her childhood, Jean often played in a lovely creek…Guess my childhood was good.
She shifts position and is now sitting on her own bed, watching some photos of her friends and family. Scott Summers is not an easy person to make smile and yet…there lays a proof her fearless leader can smile.
The photo in question has Scott and Jean eating pizza. Nothing fancy, nothing her parents would envision for her- that goes for a lot of things- but is a nice moment. A nice date.
Her fingers touch his face gently. His smile is so rare and so precious.
Her throat is dry. Sleep seems to have escaped her for now and memories of the past won't feed her. “Better get my glass of water…the old fashion way” jokes as her bed desk has no water for her to use telekinesis.
She does rise from the bed.
Her green eyes locate her slippers and…see a pair of flowers. It's a flower similar to a lily. No note, nothing. Just a strange flower in her room in perfect state.
“Lilies usually mean goodbye…if this is a Lily” Jean takes the flower and…nothing ever happens. Jean rolls her eyes. “ Must be a joke from Bobby”
The image of a beautiful creek assaulted her mind. Her childhood was indeed lovely…and Jean doesn't get why she is taking tonight to reminisce about her past. “Maybe the jokes are right and I do need to take Ibuprofen”
__
Wanda Maximoff is a young witch, far too young. Yet, her mentor, Agatha Harkness, instructed Wanda to always meditate. It helps focus on her magic and clear her mind.
“Sister! Wanda?” Pietro, her twin, calls for her. His voice is alarmed. Wanda doesn't see why he is so concerned. He has seen her meditate before.
Wanda opened her eyes to see…she was hovering.
Oh, this is new.
There are a few drops of blood coming from her nose.
This is also new.
“I…felt something,” Wanda says as she slowly comes down. Her nosebleed was long gone saved by the few drops on her SCARLET outfit. “I felt something…” She spoke again with more excitement.
Pietro runs and in a blink and you miss, has napkins to help his sister. “Yeah because people who nosebleed usually feel something” his tone is snarky but his eyes are full of worry. “meditations are usually like that?”
“I felt something…a source of energy…I never felt it before. Pietro, my brother, that was raw power” Wanda explains amused and gulping a little more. Her brother cleans the bloodstains and Wanda doesn't use spells to do faster.
Pietro’s eyes are full of concern. “You said something like this in the past”
Wanda tilted her head. “I did? When?”
And her lovely eyes turn into the dark abyss, Pietro quickly holds her, shaking, and …her eyes are once again as lovely as ever. “Are you…ok?” She asked now mirroring his worried eyes.
Pietro takes a deep breath. “Enough of meditation. You need to eat. Let's eat a nutritious meal. I cook” prompts as he takes Wanda away from her meditation room.
No resistance on Wanda's part.
I love it when Pietro cooks us dinner.
Pietro can still remember their childhood.
That thing….can't return…oh god, please.