round 3 overflow post

[starkmodistries.livejournal.com]

Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

FILL: Everyday Love in Stockholm 136/?

[tahariel.livejournal.com]

“Is that what she actually said?”

“Not quite, sir.” Shadowcat bites her lip before continuing, and she looks so young it’s physically painful. “She said ‘tell him I want to talk to him about this before he raises merry hell again.’ Sir.”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward, amused, and he gets up from his desk, shaking his cape into place. “No need to paraphrase for me, I can take the unpolished version. I’d best go see what she wants.”

Shadowcat leads him along to Emma’s office as though he might not know where it is after all this time, glancing over her shoulder every so often to make sure he’s still following. She’s a wisp of a thing, even when she’s fully tangible, and the constant looks make him feel like she’s waiting for him to do something, but he doesn’t know what. It’s almost a relief when she lets him into the room at the opposite corner of the building from his own, closing the door behind her.

Emma looks up as he comes in, laying down her pen with a smart click on the surface of her coffee table. She’s sitting in one of the smart white chairs she has arranged faux-casually by the large windows, taking advantage of the daylight and the view; it’s calculatedly informal, as though she holds mother’s meetings in here instead of running half of the country. Everything is white or cream, from the carpet, laid specially, to the paintings she has hung on the walls, white on white, and the vases of pale flowers spread around and filling the room with fragrance. Emma herself is pristine as ever, her white pantsuit elegantly tailored to her best advantage and her beautiful, crisp-cut features as bland and clean of emotion as they always are, though she raises an eyebrow at him as he comes over to join her. “She’s always staring,” he says as he takes a seat across from her, feeling far too large for the finicky furniture.

“Oh, honey,” Emma drawls, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again, somehow pointed rather than sexual, “I could tell you, but it’ll make you uncomfortable.”

“Not much does.”

It earns him a slow smile, devoid of humour but somehow soft, nonetheless. “Kitty is Jewish. She desperately wants to ask you about your time in Germany, but she doesn’t dare.”

He’s… not entirely sure what to say to that. Magneto tries to keep his gaze level and his expression the same, and if he doesn’t quite manage that then at least she can’t pick his reaction directly out of his head when he’s wearing his helmet. “Hmm,” he says eventually, and glances toward the door, toward a girl he couldn’t have said two things about before and now has too many thoughts about, all of a sudden. “Probably for the best. It’s not pretty.” That, at least, is public knowledge, and safe.

“She’s a strong girl,” is all Emma says, still unusually gentle around the edges, before reaching for her own file, its bright red sleeve stark against the paleness of the rest of the room. “Now. Japan.”

Magneto nods, relieved despite himself to have changed topic. “I’m assuming we haven’t had any direct contact?”

“Not as yet, and frankly I shouldn’t expect any. They seem to be handling themselves.” Emma hands him a sheet of paper, which he scans quickly, glancing at the photograph clipped to it without recognition. “This is unconfirmed, though I think it fairly likely to be accurate. Their leader is a mutant called Sunfire, and he’s not much of a team player. I wouldn’t anticipate him calling for aid.”

“Another fire-related mutant,” Magneto murmurs to himself, looking again at the photograph and the ridiculous mask the man is wearing, which covers his entire face, like some kind of comic book character. “They do seem to be popping up everywhere.”

“He’s very powerful. In effect, he’s taking up your banner.” She hands him another sheet, this one so fresh that the ink smudges a little when his thumb rubs across the words. “The Japanese mutants are all falling into line behind him, and he’s declared himself for ‘Magneto’s cause’. Even in Asia your name is a conjurer’s trick, sugar.”