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theatrical_muse] 287 - Prison
Jun. 12th, 2009 02:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stoicslim287 - Prison
For the first time in his life, Scott found himself wishing that the mansion had gotten destroyed this time. Again and again, they had rebuilt the building on Graymalkin Lane and the grounds around it and the massive complex that lay beneath it. It would be improved and upgraded against whatever catastrophe had leveled it, and then a few years later, something new would find a way to blast the mansion to pieces.
Pieces. Scott's stomach lurched.
Oh, God...
He didn't want to see the walls. He didn't want to be surrounded by the lacquered wood paneling and the warm, muted wallpaper of the hallways or the precisely designed classrooms shaped to focus the notoriously capricious attentions of young mutants. And he didn't want to see the tall, lead-framed windows looking out into the courtyard.
Scott wanted it gone. He wanted to be surrounded by smoking rubble and broken wood and twisted metal. Then, at least, he would accept how it had happened, and the place he called home wouldn't feel like a prison anymore. It would be gone.
He'd been half a mile away, working in the boathouse by the lake. Humming quietly and happily, it had been the smell of brimstone and the inverted pop of mass suddenly filling a space that hadn't been there before, the unmistakable bamf that catapulted Scott's instincts into battle readiness. Scott blinked, his uncovered eyes-- restored control over his powers a gift of Emma's from not long ago-- having trouble picking the form of an old friend silhouetted against the bright sunlight outside.
"Kurt--?" Scott snapped.
"It's Phoebe," the dark-furred acrobat answered tersely, gravity plain in his tone.
Without a thought, Scott sprang forward, putting his hands firmly on Kurt's arm. With another rush of air and disorienting moment of displacement, they teleported to the foyer, where Hank was leaning his bulky, catlike frame over the prone form of one of Emma's daughters, the other two standing nearby.
Scott closed the gap in a few long steps. "Mindee, Celeste, what happened?"
"It was the news, Mr. Summers--"
"--it warmed her heart."
Warmed...? It took a moment before the implication struck Scott like a hammer-blow. Oh, no... Oh, God, please... no...
"Emma?" Scott whispered.
Hank pointed towards the windows. "She was headed to the courtyard the last I saw."
Scott ran. He ran faster and harder than he ever had before, his mind clicking through the facts of the situation, settling them in a logical order so that his instincts could quickly form the best tactical response. But he knew there was little to nothing he would be able to do, at least right away. They weren't dealing with any other outside attack. This was the Phoenix.
Hoping that somehow, Emma would be able to distract the Phoenix Force from its intentions long enough for them to contain it again-- how, he had no idea-- Scott burst through the doors that led him outside. He had to put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the brightness of the sun.
No. Not the sun.
Emma stood, glittering and chillingly beautiful in her diamond form, lit and blazing from within with the red-gold fiery glow of the Phoenix Force. Two slow-motion steps later, Scott could see the cracks. He heard a word that sounded like his name, and then it happened.
What had once been Emma Frost, former White Queen of the Hellfire Club, former super-villain, current X-Man, current co-head of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, current lover and recently fiancée of Scott Summers, exploded. The sound was like terrible music, every fractured organic crystal of her diamond form resonating in dissonant pitch.
The force of it slammed Scott to the ground. A moment later, Scott raised his head, and the clear blue sky was raining diamonds.
"No. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
Scott's body twisted, his mind blanking with shock... and the world went red. Unable to look at where Emma had been, he was facing away from the spot, away from the mansion. Unbidden and unchecked, energy stirred in his body. A red, crackling glow surrounded his eyes and then burst forth. Optic beams of devastating concussive force lanced out of Scott in their rawest, most unbridled form.
When someone appeared behind Scott and struggled with him, Scott fought back. Scott felt fur and claws on his face as the familiar weight of his visor with its ruby quartz lens was forced down over his eyes by pair of hands. The visor slipped for a moment in the tears wetting Scott's cheeks before it was settled on.
Hours later, the world was still red. The glasses that imprisoned his powerful optic blasts were again in place. Scott knew somehow that even if he cared to stop and try, he wouldn't be able to control them any more. Experimenting with his mutant ability, though, was the last thing on his mind, not when he was standing in Hank McCoy's lab, staring at a stasis pod--
Hell, it looks so damn much like a coffin...
Under the clear dome was a layer of sparkling diamonds, the crystals that made up everything they had been able to find of Emma's... remains... in the first two sweeps. Hank had sworn to Scott that they would find even the smallest crystal, but the feline head hung low as he did. "We don't have a telekinetic of Jean's caliber on call any longer," he reminded Scott.
When Jean had died, Scott had run. The mansion had felt like a cage, and he'd run. Scott had gotten on his motorcycle and gone as far and as fast as he could.
But it had been a different time. The X-Men were caretakers for the future of the entire miniscule mutant race, and there was no escaping that responsibility, no matter what he did or where he went. There was no choice but to stay, to endure.
One day, maybe even to hope. Scott wanted to be able to hope. He wanted to if only for the girl who stood beside him, arms wrapped around his waist and ribs, tears warm and wet against his shirt. He looked down at the despondent girl, heart aching as he catalogued every similarity, everything familiar he could find, even through the red curtain. Phoebe sobbed, her newly restored heart broken.
Scott gave the girl a kiss on the head, with a warmth he didn't feel. When Phoebe's body seemed to run out of tears and sighs, he walked the girl back to her room and left her in the care of her sisters. Returning to the room he had shared with Emma, he walked back into the cell that the needs of others and the responsibilities of the world had built for him and closed the door behind him.
(1137)
OOC Note: This prompt reply is based off RP, not comic-canon, and any muses used were ones that are not in TM presently. It is the companion piece to Emma's response which can be found {HERE}
For the first time in his life, Scott found himself wishing that the mansion had gotten destroyed this time. Again and again, they had rebuilt the building on Graymalkin Lane and the grounds around it and the massive complex that lay beneath it. It would be improved and upgraded against whatever catastrophe had leveled it, and then a few years later, something new would find a way to blast the mansion to pieces.
Pieces. Scott's stomach lurched.
Oh, God...
He didn't want to see the walls. He didn't want to be surrounded by the lacquered wood paneling and the warm, muted wallpaper of the hallways or the precisely designed classrooms shaped to focus the notoriously capricious attentions of young mutants. And he didn't want to see the tall, lead-framed windows looking out into the courtyard.
Scott wanted it gone. He wanted to be surrounded by smoking rubble and broken wood and twisted metal. Then, at least, he would accept how it had happened, and the place he called home wouldn't feel like a prison anymore. It would be gone.
He'd been half a mile away, working in the boathouse by the lake. Humming quietly and happily, it had been the smell of brimstone and the inverted pop of mass suddenly filling a space that hadn't been there before, the unmistakable bamf that catapulted Scott's instincts into battle readiness. Scott blinked, his uncovered eyes-- restored control over his powers a gift of Emma's from not long ago-- having trouble picking the form of an old friend silhouetted against the bright sunlight outside.
"Kurt--?" Scott snapped.
"It's Phoebe," the dark-furred acrobat answered tersely, gravity plain in his tone.
Without a thought, Scott sprang forward, putting his hands firmly on Kurt's arm. With another rush of air and disorienting moment of displacement, they teleported to the foyer, where Hank was leaning his bulky, catlike frame over the prone form of one of Emma's daughters, the other two standing nearby.
Scott closed the gap in a few long steps. "Mindee, Celeste, what happened?"
"It was the news, Mr. Summers--"
"--it warmed her heart."
Warmed...? It took a moment before the implication struck Scott like a hammer-blow. Oh, no... Oh, God, please... no...
"Emma?" Scott whispered.
Hank pointed towards the windows. "She was headed to the courtyard the last I saw."
Scott ran. He ran faster and harder than he ever had before, his mind clicking through the facts of the situation, settling them in a logical order so that his instincts could quickly form the best tactical response. But he knew there was little to nothing he would be able to do, at least right away. They weren't dealing with any other outside attack. This was the Phoenix.
Hoping that somehow, Emma would be able to distract the Phoenix Force from its intentions long enough for them to contain it again-- how, he had no idea-- Scott burst through the doors that led him outside. He had to put a hand over his eyes to shield them from the brightness of the sun.
No. Not the sun.
Emma stood, glittering and chillingly beautiful in her diamond form, lit and blazing from within with the red-gold fiery glow of the Phoenix Force. Two slow-motion steps later, Scott could see the cracks. He heard a word that sounded like his name, and then it happened.
What had once been Emma Frost, former White Queen of the Hellfire Club, former super-villain, current X-Man, current co-head of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, current lover and recently fiancée of Scott Summers, exploded. The sound was like terrible music, every fractured organic crystal of her diamond form resonating in dissonant pitch.
The force of it slammed Scott to the ground. A moment later, Scott raised his head, and the clear blue sky was raining diamonds.
"No. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"
Scott's body twisted, his mind blanking with shock... and the world went red. Unable to look at where Emma had been, he was facing away from the spot, away from the mansion. Unbidden and unchecked, energy stirred in his body. A red, crackling glow surrounded his eyes and then burst forth. Optic beams of devastating concussive force lanced out of Scott in their rawest, most unbridled form.
When someone appeared behind Scott and struggled with him, Scott fought back. Scott felt fur and claws on his face as the familiar weight of his visor with its ruby quartz lens was forced down over his eyes by pair of hands. The visor slipped for a moment in the tears wetting Scott's cheeks before it was settled on.
Hours later, the world was still red. The glasses that imprisoned his powerful optic blasts were again in place. Scott knew somehow that even if he cared to stop and try, he wouldn't be able to control them any more. Experimenting with his mutant ability, though, was the last thing on his mind, not when he was standing in Hank McCoy's lab, staring at a stasis pod--
Hell, it looks so damn much like a coffin...
Under the clear dome was a layer of sparkling diamonds, the crystals that made up everything they had been able to find of Emma's... remains... in the first two sweeps. Hank had sworn to Scott that they would find even the smallest crystal, but the feline head hung low as he did. "We don't have a telekinetic of Jean's caliber on call any longer," he reminded Scott.
When Jean had died, Scott had run. The mansion had felt like a cage, and he'd run. Scott had gotten on his motorcycle and gone as far and as fast as he could.
But it had been a different time. The X-Men were caretakers for the future of the entire miniscule mutant race, and there was no escaping that responsibility, no matter what he did or where he went. There was no choice but to stay, to endure.
One day, maybe even to hope. Scott wanted to be able to hope. He wanted to if only for the girl who stood beside him, arms wrapped around his waist and ribs, tears warm and wet against his shirt. He looked down at the despondent girl, heart aching as he catalogued every similarity, everything familiar he could find, even through the red curtain. Phoebe sobbed, her newly restored heart broken.
Scott gave the girl a kiss on the head, with a warmth he didn't feel. When Phoebe's body seemed to run out of tears and sighs, he walked the girl back to her room and left her in the care of her sisters. Returning to the room he had shared with Emma, he walked back into the cell that the needs of others and the responsibilities of the world had built for him and closed the door behind him.
(1137)
OOC Note: This prompt reply is based off RP, not comic-canon, and any muses used were ones that are not in TM presently. It is the companion piece to Emma's response which can be found {HERE}
