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dorksidefikerTitle: Sacrament
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Jono, Cessily, Apocalypse, some OCs
Prompt: 14. The Sacrament
Word Count: 267
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which we get a look at the head of the resistance.
Author's Notes: I own nothing. Part 22 of Bitter Homecoming.
Jonothon Starsmore held the crystal goblet delicately between his fingers, pretending to watch the thick red blood as he swirled it around, while in reality he watched Clan Akkaba gather.
They watched him right back, of course. One did not survive long in this family if one did not keep a very careful eye on The Fittest. And one did not stay The Fittest long if one did not keen an eye on one’s rivals.
In this case, that was Esme Starsmore, one of the few close relatives Jono had amongst the Clan. Theirs was a long standing, festering dislike that occasionally erupted into bouts of epic violence.
Today, she glittered with the technology she’s grafted on to herself to make up for her lack of useful mutation. A big believer in self improvement, our Esme, Jono thought with dark humor.
The last to come in was Cessily, her own skin glittering softly in the light of the chamber. She caught his eye and nodded briefly as she took her place at the table. Jono returned the nod, then rose to his feet, raising his glass in a toast to the withered body of Clan Akkaba’s mad god. Apocalypse watched him with fevered eyes, the only thing that still showed any sign of life, as Jono drank deeply of the old mutant’s blood.
Fandom: X-Men
Characters: Jono, Cessily, Apocalypse, some OCs
Prompt: 14. The Sacrament
Word Count: 267
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which we get a look at the head of the resistance.
Author's Notes: I own nothing. Part 22 of Bitter Homecoming.
Jonothon Starsmore held the crystal goblet delicately between his fingers, pretending to watch the thick red blood as he swirled it around, while in reality he watched Clan Akkaba gather.
They watched him right back, of course. One did not survive long in this family if one did not keep a very careful eye on The Fittest. And one did not stay The Fittest long if one did not keen an eye on one’s rivals.
In this case, that was Esme Starsmore, one of the few close relatives Jono had amongst the Clan. Theirs was a long standing, festering dislike that occasionally erupted into bouts of epic violence.
Today, she glittered with the technology she’s grafted on to herself to make up for her lack of useful mutation. A big believer in self improvement, our Esme, Jono thought with dark humor.
The last to come in was Cessily, her own skin glittering softly in the light of the chamber. She caught his eye and nodded briefly as she took her place at the table. Jono returned the nod, then rose to his feet, raising his glass in a toast to the withered body of Clan Akkaba’s mad god. Apocalypse watched him with fevered eyes, the only thing that still showed any sign of life, as Jono drank deeply of the old mutant’s blood.