Hey there! I'm zanfandel, and (obviously) I'm new around here! I have a big love for Kurt and all things about him. This here is a little fanfic I wrote not too long ago. It's written from Nightcrawler's perspective as he discovers something about his daughter. I'm also a big fan of TJ, and it features her too. Hope you like
She really can sing, I’ve heard her once before. It’s such a strange thing, because it‘s not what anyone, let alone myself, would have expected. Yet, if one were patient, steadfast in their resolve, their efforts will not be barren of the fruit of their toils. Talia preferred to scream and howl like a zealous animal, allowing that ghastly din to curl and float about the rafters. The guitar would screech and whine with an irritated hum, crying out in what seemed like utmost ache and anguish. There was a reason her band has a hard time finding venues.
Like an unforeseen encounter with providence, my opportunity to unravel the enigmatic, hauntingly sweet, song presented itself. Balmy, the summer evening stuck to the velvety texture of my fur like a faint residue. Starlight gleamed beyond the recesses of my imagination, jeering and jostling about with that shining medallion known as the moon. The darkness of night swaddled and swerved across my form, ears perked, softly cupping the providential melody. It was a most wondrous snare; like the lilting leid of a Siren’s cadence, it drew me ever nearer, so that I may better revel in the intoxication of it all. The tendrils of tone and form beckoned me in my hypnotized state, and as though with a gravitational pull I relented to its coaxing.
A muted illumination emanated from the recesses of the kitchen, the chrome fixtures of various appliances were glazed with ribbons of light that swirled and convoluted across their edifices. Talia scuttled across the tiles, clasping jars of peanut butter and jelly in the crook of her arm. A pristine, crystalline vessel housing creamy milk already lay prepared for consumption. Fishing for small portions of each ingredient, she proceeded to smear them upon soft bread. With each swipe of the utensil, the thrumming rhythm rose and fell with timed precision. She toiled tirelessly, dripping mystical verses from her lips;Os iusti meditabitur sapientiam,
Et lingua eius loquetur indicium.
Beatus vir qui suffert tentationem,
Quoniqm cum probates fuerit accipient coronam vitae.
Ah, Latin! A language befitting such a full, regal vocal display. A melody that I’m sure rose toward the heavens, pleasing the auditory units of Gott
Himself. The cryptic words bowed and bent about like hallowed specters. A smile curled across my lips and my eyes closed in reverie. My bewitched mind could never fathom how such a thing could possibly be so strikingly lovely, for such wondrous things, I imagine, are only reserved for the heavenly realms. Truly it was a sin to listen to; such a gentle swerving and swooping of lyrical prowess was beyond worthy of a mere mortal audience.Kyrie, ignis divine, eleison.
Her voice rose to a climactic height; swelling, climbing ever further into the celestial plane, filling the hallowed void with this a cappella wonder. There was no need for music to accompany the lone songstress, her own livid cry toward the ceiling, or more specifically, what lay beyond, was enough.O quam sancta, quam serena,
Quam benigna, quam amoena,
O castitatis lilium.*
With faintness like that of a musing, or the brush of wingtips, the spell faded into the night. Still enamored, the last remaining traces still resounded within my ears. She sighed, and then uttered nothing more. The air that surrounded us now was naught but a ghastly quell, eerily silent.
“Das war schÃƒÂ¶n
. That was beautiful, liebchen
My daughter jolted, seemingly brought back from the aroma of mystical conjuring. Pointed ears perked in an alert fashion, and brow furrowed in what seemed like shame and embarrassment, she turned to perceive me.
“Dad” the rising inflection in her voice inferred that she was not pleased. Her glowing eyes shot a pointed stare. “what are you doing here?” she queried, her mouth curled into a defiant scowl at my presence.
“listening, obviously.” I matched her in heated resolve. “You should sing like that more often, instead of all that screaming you do. I‘m surprised you haven‘t lost your voice yet.” I continued to amble toward her, my voice injected with a soft grumble. “Maybe if you actually sang more often, the Baboon Butts would gain more popularity”
It seems, in my old age, I am losing my charm with the ladies, especially those who are related to me. TJ glared at me, fueled by a strange breed of insubordinate hatred that lay reposed like a venomous serpent within the hearts of all teenagers for their parental units. She crossed her arms and huffed “well, that’s not our genre” she scoffed. “and it’s Butt Monkeys, Dad. Get it right for once.”
It seems that everything I’ve been saying, and doing for that matter, has been deemed wrong.
“I’m just saying-”
“Well you can stop
saying. I‘m going to bed, see you later.” came the snide reply, abruptly interrupting my line of reasoning. Feet softly slapping the obsidian-hued tile floor that humbled itself before her, she hurriedly and unceremoniously decided to excuse herself from my presence, as though adding more offense to the insult. “At least Aunt Kitty understands me.” her last slicing statement trailed off into the swallowing darkness.
I sighed a lamentable exhalation, brow furrowed in sorrow and confusion. A child she once was, but apparently, is a child no more. I could not help but smile in amusement at the thought. Her plate of victuals still lay reposed upon the tabletop. Grasping the sandwich, I proceeded to devour it. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich tastes worst when eaten alone. I then turned my attention to the portion of milk, my mind spilling about with various thoughts.
“I just wanted her to stop all that screaming.” I sighed lugubriously.All Characters Ã‚Â© Marvel
* The song TJ sings is called Lilium, originally sung by Kumiko Noma
[Edited on 14/3/09 by zanfandel]
Storm: Sometimes anger, can help you survive.
Nightcrawler: So can faith.