Post by shanecross on Jun 15, 2011 17:22:19 GMT -5
[shadow=red,left,400]
The young mutant couldn’t have imagined feeling less exiled in his entire life.
He was hunched over on a stone bench, madras sleeves rolled up, utterly absorbed in the sanctity of the garden around him. The only word to describe the lush-ness and colorful-ness of everything was sublime. Roses drenched in margarine blood and lilies wrapped tightly in royal indigo. Towering, ancient oaks whose branches arched elegantly out to each other, kindred spirits willing to provide refuge to any needy passerby. Sticky pollen, pulpy beige seed and coppered sunflowers. Even for the greatest Nature-hater, the strongest proponent of concrete and steel, this was a sight to behold.
Sidney took off his loafers and let his bare feet step into the grass. The grass responded with an invisible crack of the whip, growing and extending, wrapping itself around his toes and ankles, around his rolled-up khaki pant legs. It wrapped around him not tightly, but with all of the gentleness of a mother’s loving caress. It was his real Mother reaching out to him, comforting him, letting him know that he was in her domain and no harm could possibly come to him.
A grapevine from a small orchard nearby curled and twisted itself around plants and trees to roll up over his shoulder and detach a fat, springy bunch of ripe grapes into his hand. Paradoxically, the old trees creaked and groaned as they moved aside to give him more sunlight, but adjusted their branches to give him more shade.
And the dirt, the dirt…! It smelt so earthy and crisp, and yet it trapped within its bounds an otherworldly convergence of absolute, unadulterated opportunity. From Canaan to the Oregon territories, this is what the settlers must have felt when they had reached their new home. Absolute, tremulous exhilaration.
[shadow=red,left,100]
He had been an Exile for a little over a year now. He had assignments, yes, and he interacted with a few of his other team members. He had risked flesh and bone for the organization, and yet he had only spoken to the leaders in passing. These were the leaders who, in the midst of the Xavier Institute’s indecisiveness whether or not to promote him to be a part of the X-Men, played to his sense of adventure and freedom. He could come and go, anytime he pleased. No silly rules or regulations, as long as he carried out the assignments.
And that’s what Sidney liked about his job. But why was it that they had come to the Xavier Institute at all? The Exiles usually never showed their face in North America, nevermind to recruit a mutant from under Professor Charles Xavier’s nose. Nevermind to tarry and trifle with individual, still raw mutants. Why was Sidney here?
The grapevine and grass which had just a second ago been curling around him intimately now retreated back to their roots, sensing his rapid torrent of negative emotion and confusion. The leaders of the team had never given him the time of day. And now with several successful missions under his belt, he’d come to get the conversation that he believed he deserved.
[/shadow]
The young mutant couldn’t have imagined feeling less exiled in his entire life.
He was hunched over on a stone bench, madras sleeves rolled up, utterly absorbed in the sanctity of the garden around him. The only word to describe the lush-ness and colorful-ness of everything was sublime. Roses drenched in margarine blood and lilies wrapped tightly in royal indigo. Towering, ancient oaks whose branches arched elegantly out to each other, kindred spirits willing to provide refuge to any needy passerby. Sticky pollen, pulpy beige seed and coppered sunflowers. Even for the greatest Nature-hater, the strongest proponent of concrete and steel, this was a sight to behold.
Sidney took off his loafers and let his bare feet step into the grass. The grass responded with an invisible crack of the whip, growing and extending, wrapping itself around his toes and ankles, around his rolled-up khaki pant legs. It wrapped around him not tightly, but with all of the gentleness of a mother’s loving caress. It was his real Mother reaching out to him, comforting him, letting him know that he was in her domain and no harm could possibly come to him.
A grapevine from a small orchard nearby curled and twisted itself around plants and trees to roll up over his shoulder and detach a fat, springy bunch of ripe grapes into his hand. Paradoxically, the old trees creaked and groaned as they moved aside to give him more sunlight, but adjusted their branches to give him more shade.
And the dirt, the dirt…! It smelt so earthy and crisp, and yet it trapped within its bounds an otherworldly convergence of absolute, unadulterated opportunity. From Canaan to the Oregon territories, this is what the settlers must have felt when they had reached their new home. Absolute, tremulous exhilaration.
[shadow=red,left,100]
A lone narcissus loitered alone by a quarry of rocks, being shoved to and fro by a succession of blustery northern gales. The sight of this flower brought Sidney out of his sleepy reverie. He remembered why he had come.
[/shadow]He had been an Exile for a little over a year now. He had assignments, yes, and he interacted with a few of his other team members. He had risked flesh and bone for the organization, and yet he had only spoken to the leaders in passing. These were the leaders who, in the midst of the Xavier Institute’s indecisiveness whether or not to promote him to be a part of the X-Men, played to his sense of adventure and freedom. He could come and go, anytime he pleased. No silly rules or regulations, as long as he carried out the assignments.
And that’s what Sidney liked about his job. But why was it that they had come to the Xavier Institute at all? The Exiles usually never showed their face in North America, nevermind to recruit a mutant from under Professor Charles Xavier’s nose. Nevermind to tarry and trifle with individual, still raw mutants. Why was Sidney here?
The grapevine and grass which had just a second ago been curling around him intimately now retreated back to their roots, sensing his rapid torrent of negative emotion and confusion. The leaders of the team had never given him the time of day. And now with several successful missions under his belt, he’d come to get the conversation that he believed he deserved.
[/shadow]