X-23 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cutting_edgex23) wrote2012-04-02 10:34 pm
cutting_edgex23) wrote2012-04-02 10:34 pm
I sing in the reaches, we'll see what we find
The plains of hell stretch on forever, constantly wracked with sun and sand and heat.
X's feet have cracked and bled a thousand times over, yet still she walks.
There will be a way out of this place.
She only has to find it.
Is it days that pass? Weeks? Or merely hour upon endless hour?
She can't tell.
It is not relevant.
All that matters is the glimmer near the horizon, the first sign she's had that something is changing, that she is getting somewhere.
That glimmer gets closer and closer, resolving at long, long last into a woman of about X's height.
A woman made entirely of stars.
X startles once that image becomes clear, rocking back on her heels as if to avoid the heat that must \accompany a figure of such brightness.
But the light is cool, instead, a balm against her burned and re-burned skin.
"I. I know you? Why?"
X's voice is rough and almost soundless when she musters up the air to speak.
The figure across from her is silent, merely reaching out one star-laden hand to grip X's, fingers folding together until their edges can barely be distinguished.
"Come, little brightness. You don't belong here, and well you know it. A soul such as yours is meant for far, far brighter places."
A -- soul?
X's eyes are wide, though she doesn't tear her hand away from --
"Don't tell me you can't see it. Look."
The glittering woman lifts their linked hands, taking a half-step forward that X matches unconsciously, even as the center of her palm begins to burn, too pure and clear to really be called pain.
"Mirrors. You'll understand someday soon, little avatar. But now we must go. There will never be a better time."
"Okay," X says, quiet and sure and safe, so very unexpectedly safe. "We can go."
And as the blasted plain around her fades to white, X-23 says one thing more, at the very last.
"I will not forget."
That will always be true.
X's feet have cracked and bled a thousand times over, yet still she walks.
There will be a way out of this place.
She only has to find it.
Is it days that pass? Weeks? Or merely hour upon endless hour?
She can't tell.
It is not relevant.
All that matters is the glimmer near the horizon, the first sign she's had that something is changing, that she is getting somewhere.
That glimmer gets closer and closer, resolving at long, long last into a woman of about X's height.
A woman made entirely of stars.
X startles once that image becomes clear, rocking back on her heels as if to avoid the heat that must \accompany a figure of such brightness.
But the light is cool, instead, a balm against her burned and re-burned skin.
"I. I know you? Why?"
X's voice is rough and almost soundless when she musters up the air to speak.
The figure across from her is silent, merely reaching out one star-laden hand to grip X's, fingers folding together until their edges can barely be distinguished.
"Come, little brightness. You don't belong here, and well you know it. A soul such as yours is meant for far, far brighter places."
A -- soul?
X's eyes are wide, though she doesn't tear her hand away from --
"Don't tell me you can't see it. Look."
The glittering woman lifts their linked hands, taking a half-step forward that X matches unconsciously, even as the center of her palm begins to burn, too pure and clear to really be called pain.
"Mirrors. You'll understand someday soon, little avatar. But now we must go. There will never be a better time."
"Okay," X says, quiet and sure and safe, so very unexpectedly safe. "We can go."
And as the blasted plain around her fades to white, X-23 says one thing more, at the very last.
"I will not forget."
That will always be true.