**This story's content has been edited for those underaged Fanpopers who may read this**
~Chapter Two~
Transported
He was cold Logan realized as the fog inside of his mind started to lift ever so slowly. In fact he was too cold. The tips of his fingers and toes could no longer be felt while the rest of him was lit afire سے طرف کی the iciness. Shivers swept down his spine and the sound of his teeth chattering seemed to be lost in the howl of a strong wind. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this cold. Actually he wasn’t sure he had ever been this cold.
With a heaviness he hadn’t realized they could have Logan’s eyes slid slowly open. He quickly shut them again as a blinding whiteness pained the retinas. Another shiver passed over him this one enough to shake his entire body violently. Yet when he meant to growl it was little مزید than a pathetic groan. Sounding as if it had come from a child who was protesting the fact they had to do what they didn’t want to.
‘What the hell is going on,’ he thought, he felt strange.
But his question, though unspoken, was still answered سے طرف کی a razor sharp wind that cut into his back. It was then that he realized he was on his side curled up like a new born. Another wind this one enough to get him to open his eyes again.
It was a fight but he managed to keep them open this time. Blinking away the pain, and the gathering tears from that pain, Logan was able to take a مزید measured look around him.
Nothing but white. White as far as he could see, but with his vision so blurred he doubted he was seeing very far at all. It was a delayed effect but finally his mind was beginning to work مزید clearly. His cheeks felt like they were burning but he knew they were just freezing.
A sudden shift in the wind and a دیوار of snow hit him square in the face. Forcing himself up onto his elbow he saw that he had been lying on the ground in a foot of snow. Which explained why his shoulder had lost its feeling and yet that only led to مزید سوالات not answers.
He shouldn’t be feeling this cold, not to the point of becoming numb. That was a blessing when it came to his mutation. The healing factor his body was famous for treating whatever was wrong within a matter of minutes, sometimes longer, yes, but not this long, and not for simply being cold.
As that thought brushed through his mind again another سوال was raised. Not only was there, 'why was he cold' but how. New York had been beautifully warm. The sun was shinning there was the softest breeze in the air. The temperature had reached 76 even before noon. So why was it snowing now, and not just a small snowfall but a storm?
Years of training forced Logan to his feet even through the pain of his stiffening limbs. Staggering to a nearby درخت and bracing himself there finding he was having trouble breathing. Okay, now he was getting a little worried.
He was disturbingly disoriented. He could barely hear anything, barely see, and he could smell nothing. He was cold and hurting, and with each breath he took it felt like knives were being driven into his chest. Though he tried to fight it his breaths wouldn’t come in any better than shallow gasps.
In a brief lapse of the wind the swirl of snow settled allowing for a clearer view. Now he saw he was in the middle of thick woods. Thick tangled masses of trees twined together forming a near impenetrable field of vision. Even in Central Park the trees hadn’t been this tightly packed. He was in a forest.
The fact that it was dark, save for the full moon’s light didn’t help his sight. Though the trees made it hard Logan could make out a tall gray mass in the distance. No doubt a house of some sort, he thought.
The سوال now was, “Where the hell am I?”
The words were quickly swept away as the wind picked up again. Carrying with it the sound of something flapping against something. With his skin so chilled it took him a moment to see that the sound was coming from the شرٹ, قمیض he wore. But it wasn’t his shirt, at least not the one he had been wearing.
It was white, and puffy. The sleeves where long and the cuffs were gripping his wrists with a tie string allowing the fabric to billow in folds along his arms. The neck was a sharp V that dipped nearly to his the mid of his stomach. Extra fabric that bordered the neckline flapped against his skin in the wind. Around his chest it was full and loose tucking into a pair of pants.
The pants themselves were different too. With a wide waistband they reached higher than the jeans Logan was use to wearing. They were deep, almost a blackened red, in color. Not as loose as the شرٹ, قمیض but they still didn’t fit tightly to his legs.
On his hands was a pair of dark brown gloves. He also took note that he was wearing a pair of black boots that reached to just below his knees. None of which seemed to be helping against the winter conditions.
Logan looked down to where he had just been lying as something fuzzy within his vision caught his eye. There was a چادر, فرغل crushed from the weight of his body, and lightly dusted سے طرف کی the snow. It was black and dark brown too with two thick lines of soft سونا and amber that trailed along up and around the hem.
He quickly reached to put it on. Even with his cold Logan paused mid dressing to stare at what was obviously a sheathed sword that had been concealed سے طرف کی the cloak. With another onslaught سے طرف کی the wind Logan’s mind was brought quickly back to his freezing body. Then he couldn’t put that چادر, فرغل on fast enough. Once he had the چادر, فرغل tied and the ڈاکو, ہڈ brought up around his face his body almost instantly became warmer. It was heavy and soft فر, سمور lined the inside. The چادر, فرغل touched the ground and even spread out slightly at Logan’s feet but it fit perfectly. A deep pleasant sigh echoed through his chest as his body snuggled into the fur.
He took a glance down at the sword again. He may not know what was happening یا how he ended up seemingly in the middle of no where but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave without that sword. With the strange things that were happening to him he had to be sure to have every advantage.
The sheath of the sword had a thick leather strap that tied perfectly around the broad بیلٹ, پٹی of his pants. Once he was sure nothing else was around he headed to the only place he knew to go that large gray mass in the distance.
~ ~ ~ ~
Somewhere in the back, still functioning portion, of my mind I know I was hearing voices. Several voices coming from several different sides. Which didn’t seem all together odd considering I was in New York and had just witnessed a woman’s death. There were bound to be people gathered around.
“La-y -ore.”
I squeezed my eyes at the sound of a female voice and an incredibly fowl smell being shoved under my nose. I couldn’t understand her completely. My head was killing me like I had a hangover of the worst kind. Which was silly I wasn’t one to drink and hadn’t drunk at all that day. Actually, drinking wasn’t my thing. A glass یا two every once in a while but I had rarely got plastered so bad to explain the feeling I was having now.
As I moaned and realized the voices sounded relieved and slightly louder now but still sounding like they were coming from a barrel.
“Lady More?”
That fowl smell got suddenly stronger as I felt it being waved beneath my nose. The urge to cough was unstoppable.
“Oh thank the heavens she’s waking,” the female voice cried. “Marie. . . Lady More?”
I peered up through narrowed eyelids to be met with the rounded face of a rather young looking woman. Her hair was done up atop her head and I couldn’t help but notice the elegant, at least to me, dress she wore. Not to mention the fact that she was calling me ‘Lady Marie More.’
No مزید than a handful of people knew my real name. In fact most only knew me سے طرف کی my code name, China. I had taken it from the endearment my mother called me, my china doll. In truth I'm private person.
Needless to say this woman was not one of those people who knew my real name. Owen didn’t even know it. And why was she addressing me as ‘Lady?’ Did people even use that term anymore? Even if they did, why would anyone give me the title?
“Wha-” I blinked rather wide eyed and cleared my throat again pushing the small pouch the woman held away from my burning nostrils. “What happened?”
The sound of my own voice shocked me slightly as it sounded weak and seemed to echo somehow. My ears, though they felt normal, weren’t hearing things that way. Since a young age i had been forced to develop my powers. In short I can duplicate anything, which includes the size of my eardrums if I wished. Giving me, at least for brief moments, heightened hearing.
For a moment I panicked, as my eyes opened normally again, looking around things were blurred and distorted. Again my ability to double my eye receptors was taken from me. What was going on?
But then there was a sudden sinking feeling to my دل as if I had just lost something very dear to me. I clenched my chest reflexively. Perhaps my two heightened senses were somehow effected سے طرف کی what had happened and would return shortly. But what did happen?
“You fainted, my lady,” the woman, who I saw now, was kneeling beside me, answered.
Fainted? I had never fainted before in my life.
I must have actually spoken that thought because the woman looked at me a little strange and then went on to speak again.
“Of course, my lady,” she cooed, sounding to me like a patronizing mother. “There is a first for all things is there not?”
I frowned, I know I did because she frowned back. Why was she talking like that and with a heavily thickened British accent? Why was she now calling me ‘my lady?’ What kind of outfit was that to be wearing on a warm دن in New York? How did she know my real name? Was she a mutant too? Was she physic?
No. Telepaths could read my mind, yes, but they wouldn’t be able to understand it. I had been taught to ‘scramble’ my thoughts. So any time they tried to read my mind it would be like trying to read a book in a language آپ can’t speak. The thoughts and pictures were there but made no sense.
Still that didn’t answer why I couldn’t hear یا see like I should. And what was that eerie sense of having lost something? Why was it I felt as if a man was sitting on سب, سب سے اوپر of me?
Sitting up from the hardwood floor I was lying on, which I took note of wouldn’t have been in the middle of a New York street, I slowly glanced around me. Besides the young woman اگلے to me I was the only other female that I could see. However, there were three men in the room with us.
Wait a minute. Room?! I pressed a hand to my forehead trying desperately to figure out how I got here. Who they were? Why did I felt so strange and how could I fix that feeling?
“Why are آپ calling me that?” I asked looking to the woman who gave me a suddenly very worried look back.
“Calling آپ what, my lady?”
“That, that ‘my lady.’”
“Why, because آپ are the lady of the house of course,” she replied slowly glancing up at the men who had also become worried. “Do آپ not remember?”
“Remember?” I shot back feeling suddenly and completely lost. Not a good feeling to have under any circumstance and certainly not a good one to have with a blinding headache. “I’ll tell آپ what I don’t remember. I don’t remember having told آپ my real name. آپ want to know why I can’t remember that because I NEVER TOLD آپ MY NAME!”
“MARIE!” It was a man to shout this time. A rather short man, balding, very well dressed with an overgrown mustache that hung to cover both of his lips. The expression on his face and the آگ کے, آگ in his eyes took me aback. I knew instantly this was not a kind man. “How dare آپ raise such a tone in the presence of men. It is سے طرف کی far most unbefitting a lady.”
My anger shot up several degrees with that statement. His tone had been demeaning and it was obvious he meant every word and he meant them for me. Who was he to talk to me like that? I had drop-kicked men for less. I bolted to my feet to give him a few مزید words he wouldn’t have liked only to nearly fall back down again. I had tripped on something, something that also pulled at my waist.
The woman who had been اگلے to me had also stood and had quickly reached out to steady me before I actually did fall. I found my breathing was being restricted سے طرف کی something tightly pressed around my rib cage. It was then that I saw why I felt like a weight was over me. I was wearing a dress, too. Not just any dress, a full, thick, dress that obviously had several petticoats beneath the flowing light blue گھنٹی, بیل skirt.
The sight of that and the way I saw that everyone else was dressed in the same type of style was enough to make me forget everything I had wanted to say a moment before. I couldn’t understand any of this and for the first time in a very, very long time I felt scared.
~Chapter Two~
Transported
He was cold Logan realized as the fog inside of his mind started to lift ever so slowly. In fact he was too cold. The tips of his fingers and toes could no longer be felt while the rest of him was lit afire سے طرف کی the iciness. Shivers swept down his spine and the sound of his teeth chattering seemed to be lost in the howl of a strong wind. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this cold. Actually he wasn’t sure he had ever been this cold.
With a heaviness he hadn’t realized they could have Logan’s eyes slid slowly open. He quickly shut them again as a blinding whiteness pained the retinas. Another shiver passed over him this one enough to shake his entire body violently. Yet when he meant to growl it was little مزید than a pathetic groan. Sounding as if it had come from a child who was protesting the fact they had to do what they didn’t want to.
‘What the hell is going on,’ he thought, he felt strange.
But his question, though unspoken, was still answered سے طرف کی a razor sharp wind that cut into his back. It was then that he realized he was on his side curled up like a new born. Another wind this one enough to get him to open his eyes again.
It was a fight but he managed to keep them open this time. Blinking away the pain, and the gathering tears from that pain, Logan was able to take a مزید measured look around him.
Nothing but white. White as far as he could see, but with his vision so blurred he doubted he was seeing very far at all. It was a delayed effect but finally his mind was beginning to work مزید clearly. His cheeks felt like they were burning but he knew they were just freezing.
A sudden shift in the wind and a دیوار of snow hit him square in the face. Forcing himself up onto his elbow he saw that he had been lying on the ground in a foot of snow. Which explained why his shoulder had lost its feeling and yet that only led to مزید سوالات not answers.
He shouldn’t be feeling this cold, not to the point of becoming numb. That was a blessing when it came to his mutation. The healing factor his body was famous for treating whatever was wrong within a matter of minutes, sometimes longer, yes, but not this long, and not for simply being cold.
As that thought brushed through his mind again another سوال was raised. Not only was there, 'why was he cold' but how. New York had been beautifully warm. The sun was shinning there was the softest breeze in the air. The temperature had reached 76 even before noon. So why was it snowing now, and not just a small snowfall but a storm?
Years of training forced Logan to his feet even through the pain of his stiffening limbs. Staggering to a nearby درخت and bracing himself there finding he was having trouble breathing. Okay, now he was getting a little worried.
He was disturbingly disoriented. He could barely hear anything, barely see, and he could smell nothing. He was cold and hurting, and with each breath he took it felt like knives were being driven into his chest. Though he tried to fight it his breaths wouldn’t come in any better than shallow gasps.
In a brief lapse of the wind the swirl of snow settled allowing for a clearer view. Now he saw he was in the middle of thick woods. Thick tangled masses of trees twined together forming a near impenetrable field of vision. Even in Central Park the trees hadn’t been this tightly packed. He was in a forest.
The fact that it was dark, save for the full moon’s light didn’t help his sight. Though the trees made it hard Logan could make out a tall gray mass in the distance. No doubt a house of some sort, he thought.
The سوال now was, “Where the hell am I?”
The words were quickly swept away as the wind picked up again. Carrying with it the sound of something flapping against something. With his skin so chilled it took him a moment to see that the sound was coming from the شرٹ, قمیض he wore. But it wasn’t his shirt, at least not the one he had been wearing.
It was white, and puffy. The sleeves where long and the cuffs were gripping his wrists with a tie string allowing the fabric to billow in folds along his arms. The neck was a sharp V that dipped nearly to his the mid of his stomach. Extra fabric that bordered the neckline flapped against his skin in the wind. Around his chest it was full and loose tucking into a pair of pants.
The pants themselves were different too. With a wide waistband they reached higher than the jeans Logan was use to wearing. They were deep, almost a blackened red, in color. Not as loose as the شرٹ, قمیض but they still didn’t fit tightly to his legs.
On his hands was a pair of dark brown gloves. He also took note that he was wearing a pair of black boots that reached to just below his knees. None of which seemed to be helping against the winter conditions.
Logan looked down to where he had just been lying as something fuzzy within his vision caught his eye. There was a چادر, فرغل crushed from the weight of his body, and lightly dusted سے طرف کی the snow. It was black and dark brown too with two thick lines of soft سونا and amber that trailed along up and around the hem.
He quickly reached to put it on. Even with his cold Logan paused mid dressing to stare at what was obviously a sheathed sword that had been concealed سے طرف کی the cloak. With another onslaught سے طرف کی the wind Logan’s mind was brought quickly back to his freezing body. Then he couldn’t put that چادر, فرغل on fast enough. Once he had the چادر, فرغل tied and the ڈاکو, ہڈ brought up around his face his body almost instantly became warmer. It was heavy and soft فر, سمور lined the inside. The چادر, فرغل touched the ground and even spread out slightly at Logan’s feet but it fit perfectly. A deep pleasant sigh echoed through his chest as his body snuggled into the fur.
He took a glance down at the sword again. He may not know what was happening یا how he ended up seemingly in the middle of no where but he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave without that sword. With the strange things that were happening to him he had to be sure to have every advantage.
The sheath of the sword had a thick leather strap that tied perfectly around the broad بیلٹ, پٹی of his pants. Once he was sure nothing else was around he headed to the only place he knew to go that large gray mass in the distance.
~ ~ ~ ~
Somewhere in the back, still functioning portion, of my mind I know I was hearing voices. Several voices coming from several different sides. Which didn’t seem all together odd considering I was in New York and had just witnessed a woman’s death. There were bound to be people gathered around.
“La-y -ore.”
I squeezed my eyes at the sound of a female voice and an incredibly fowl smell being shoved under my nose. I couldn’t understand her completely. My head was killing me like I had a hangover of the worst kind. Which was silly I wasn’t one to drink and hadn’t drunk at all that day. Actually, drinking wasn’t my thing. A glass یا two every once in a while but I had rarely got plastered so bad to explain the feeling I was having now.
As I moaned and realized the voices sounded relieved and slightly louder now but still sounding like they were coming from a barrel.
“Lady More?”
That fowl smell got suddenly stronger as I felt it being waved beneath my nose. The urge to cough was unstoppable.
“Oh thank the heavens she’s waking,” the female voice cried. “Marie. . . Lady More?”
I peered up through narrowed eyelids to be met with the rounded face of a rather young looking woman. Her hair was done up atop her head and I couldn’t help but notice the elegant, at least to me, dress she wore. Not to mention the fact that she was calling me ‘Lady Marie More.’
No مزید than a handful of people knew my real name. In fact most only knew me سے طرف کی my code name, China. I had taken it from the endearment my mother called me, my china doll. In truth I'm private person.
Needless to say this woman was not one of those people who knew my real name. Owen didn’t even know it. And why was she addressing me as ‘Lady?’ Did people even use that term anymore? Even if they did, why would anyone give me the title?
“Wha-” I blinked rather wide eyed and cleared my throat again pushing the small pouch the woman held away from my burning nostrils. “What happened?”
The sound of my own voice shocked me slightly as it sounded weak and seemed to echo somehow. My ears, though they felt normal, weren’t hearing things that way. Since a young age i had been forced to develop my powers. In short I can duplicate anything, which includes the size of my eardrums if I wished. Giving me, at least for brief moments, heightened hearing.
For a moment I panicked, as my eyes opened normally again, looking around things were blurred and distorted. Again my ability to double my eye receptors was taken from me. What was going on?
But then there was a sudden sinking feeling to my دل as if I had just lost something very dear to me. I clenched my chest reflexively. Perhaps my two heightened senses were somehow effected سے طرف کی what had happened and would return shortly. But what did happen?
“You fainted, my lady,” the woman, who I saw now, was kneeling beside me, answered.
Fainted? I had never fainted before in my life.
I must have actually spoken that thought because the woman looked at me a little strange and then went on to speak again.
“Of course, my lady,” she cooed, sounding to me like a patronizing mother. “There is a first for all things is there not?”
I frowned, I know I did because she frowned back. Why was she talking like that and with a heavily thickened British accent? Why was she now calling me ‘my lady?’ What kind of outfit was that to be wearing on a warm دن in New York? How did she know my real name? Was she a mutant too? Was she physic?
No. Telepaths could read my mind, yes, but they wouldn’t be able to understand it. I had been taught to ‘scramble’ my thoughts. So any time they tried to read my mind it would be like trying to read a book in a language آپ can’t speak. The thoughts and pictures were there but made no sense.
Still that didn’t answer why I couldn’t hear یا see like I should. And what was that eerie sense of having lost something? Why was it I felt as if a man was sitting on سب, سب سے اوپر of me?
Sitting up from the hardwood floor I was lying on, which I took note of wouldn’t have been in the middle of a New York street, I slowly glanced around me. Besides the young woman اگلے to me I was the only other female that I could see. However, there were three men in the room with us.
Wait a minute. Room?! I pressed a hand to my forehead trying desperately to figure out how I got here. Who they were? Why did I felt so strange and how could I fix that feeling?
“Why are آپ calling me that?” I asked looking to the woman who gave me a suddenly very worried look back.
“Calling آپ what, my lady?”
“That, that ‘my lady.’”
“Why, because آپ are the lady of the house of course,” she replied slowly glancing up at the men who had also become worried. “Do آپ not remember?”
“Remember?” I shot back feeling suddenly and completely lost. Not a good feeling to have under any circumstance and certainly not a good one to have with a blinding headache. “I’ll tell آپ what I don’t remember. I don’t remember having told آپ my real name. آپ want to know why I can’t remember that because I NEVER TOLD آپ MY NAME!”
“MARIE!” It was a man to shout this time. A rather short man, balding, very well dressed with an overgrown mustache that hung to cover both of his lips. The expression on his face and the آگ کے, آگ in his eyes took me aback. I knew instantly this was not a kind man. “How dare آپ raise such a tone in the presence of men. It is سے طرف کی far most unbefitting a lady.”
My anger shot up several degrees with that statement. His tone had been demeaning and it was obvious he meant every word and he meant them for me. Who was he to talk to me like that? I had drop-kicked men for less. I bolted to my feet to give him a few مزید words he wouldn’t have liked only to nearly fall back down again. I had tripped on something, something that also pulled at my waist.
The woman who had been اگلے to me had also stood and had quickly reached out to steady me before I actually did fall. I found my breathing was being restricted سے طرف کی something tightly pressed around my rib cage. It was then that I saw why I felt like a weight was over me. I was wearing a dress, too. Not just any dress, a full, thick, dress that obviously had several petticoats beneath the flowing light blue گھنٹی, بیل skirt.
The sight of that and the way I saw that everyone else was dressed in the same type of style was enough to make me forget everything I had wanted to say a moment before. I couldn’t understand any of this and for the first time in a very, very long time I felt scared.