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20 June 2006 @ 07:37 pm
Jean/Phoenix ficlet  
Hiya! I'm new to this comm (as in, literally just joined when looking for somewhere I could throw this tidbit) - been perving over at x_slash for a while, but never written fics for this fandom before. Also never written something kinda femslash-ey before, so be kind.

Title: Inner Shell
Disclaimer: I don't own the Marvel comics, or X-Men, or the cartoon...or the movies...I own nothing, 'k!
Pairing: Jean/Phoenix, Jean/Scott, Jean/Wolverine (none explicit)
Rating: OT (older teenage, for disturbing imagery)
Story Type: This is a songfic, and a very abstract piece of introspection. Basically, seeing X-Men 3 from Jean's POV. To some music lyrics.

Summary: How much of the events in X-Men 3 was Jean actually aware of? What was it like, being out of control like that? Be prepared for very little sense...

Song: Slither by Velvet Revolver



A wisp of a dream.

The waves roar in my head, churning murky blue crashes upon itself. Folding sheets, never writhing, only snapping, vicious as only the inanimate can be. It knocks me. The pain…not receding, yet no longer immediate. A place outside of time. The hurt is in here, with me.

Someone once told me phantoms feed from fear. If you can have phantom pain, would this too feed from fear?

Cold. Shivering and chattering in a huddled ball of pale – moonbeams are envious, and yet it is dark. Shock? Yet there can be no shock when there is no body. Dead limbs flash in movement, and the place is empty.


When you look you see right through me
Cut the rope, fell to my knees
Born and broken every single time


Red hair rushes over my skin, the sound akin to dry scales across the dryer sand, and yet it is as water. Tipped in blood.


Always keep me under finger
That's the spot where you run to me
Might see some type of pleasure in my mind


Boom! The sound echoes – disturbing my rest – yet as soon as it was heard it was gone, the vibrations vanishing as if swallowed into darkness once more.

The warmth of a caress, trapped by the rage. Fire burning my eyes…eyes of burning flame, open in wonder…

Gone.

Did it really happen, as I lay in my haven? Was there really something more? Why…why can I not form the question I can feel floating in the ether?


Yeah, here comes the water
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I
This time you see


Pain bursts upon the body. Not a phantom, but like a thousand needles pricking the flesh. Muscles awakening, yet when did they sleep?

A familiar soothing presence eases the pain, but-
Rage.

And the blue begins to churn, and make like the water – fresh drops of life acting as a stain.


When you seek me you destroy me
Rape my mind and smell the poppies
Born and bloodied every single time


I feel eyes in the darkness, seeking something. Why do they not show themselves? What is it they seek, that I can not lead them to?

Satin lips open round a whisper, yet the words are like a shout. They no longer want you.

So I sink into the warm water, and in the darkness it almost looks pretty. The red highlights lap my skin, banishing the renewed cold.


Always keep me under finger
That's the spot where you might linger
But I see some type of pleasure in my mind


The rocking continues. I hear occasional voices, catch a drift of emotion…thought. Yet soft skin, persuasive lips and beguiling scarlet lull me.

This is no stranger to me. How could a stranger breach my sanctuary? Why would an intruder then improve this home? Render it sweet by the darkness-hidden touches, the sense of love…caring…desire.

I want you.

But like the sense of struggle, my interest lingers.


Yeah, here comes the water
It comes to wash away the sins of you and I
This time you see
Like holy water
It only burns you faster than you'll ever dry
This time with me


Flexing curls the fingers inwards, and they touch the palm. Nails lightly scraping the skin. Dig them in.

Crimson droplets. My turn to bleed for this.


When you look you see right through me
Cut the rope, fell to my knees
Born and Bloodied
Every single time


Harsh eyes are for once gentle. Yet the blades are ferocious as they bite.

Someone once told me that conviction comes in many forms. It is my belief that in death that person would’ve learned what I now know.

Darkened lips split open like an overripe fruit, glistening. Yes, blood has its uses.

Love. The flame to fuel our deepest convictions.

Smile, lover, the red bleeds away.

And now, no one can separate us.



Hope someone enjoys this, and if this isn't the kind of thing you want on here, feel free to kick me off! (letting me know beforehand would be appreciated though) ^_^
 
 
Current Mood: hopefulhopeful
Current Music: Moby: Evening Rain
 
 
 
JadeLotus: Jeanlotusflower85 on June 22nd, 2006 12:20 am (UTC)
I really liked this - wonderful abstraction, and a great insight into what Jean might have been feeling during X3 and what she was aware of. The imagery is beautiful and haunting. I especially loved this line:

- Red hair rushes over my skin, the sound akin to dry scales across the dryer sand, and yet it is as water. Tipped in blood. -

Wonderful. I was a bit disappointed that Jean wasn't really given much actual character development in X3, so it's great to see fics like this.
Sarahskysha_tranqui on June 22nd, 2006 09:37 am (UTC)
Thank you!^^ Glad you liked it, and I completely agree with you about X3 - I was really disappointed with it tbh. Still, it sparked an idea!!