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Lying, robed in snowy white, that loosely flew to left and right, the leaves upon her falling light, thro’ the noises of the night, she floated down to Camelot: and as the boat-head wound along, the willowy hills ad fields among, they heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, a mournful, holy, chanted loudly, chanted lowly, till her blood was frozen slowly, and he r eyes were darken’d wholly, turn’d to tower’d Camelot; for ere she reached upon the tide, the first house by the water-side, singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, by garden-wall and gallery, a gleaming shape she floated by, dead-pale between the houses high, silent into Camelot. out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, and around the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near, died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear, all the Knights at Camelot; but Lancelot mused a little space he said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."-Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

No one can ever find the easy way out, and live happily ever after, suicide and wronging leaves you rootless for an eternity.

~**~

It was on the verge of rain in the land of Munroe, as she made her way home from her voluntary service at the soup kitchens. If she hadn’t been arrested all those months ago, she probably wouldn’t have been here. Community service, Great. Not that she minded of course, she wanted to help people, she just couldn’t get her lazy ass of the couch.

It hadn’t really been her doing, “I mean it had been me, I can understand you saying so, it just wasn’t me, you know what I’m trying to say, you see, it…wasn’t…me...oh forget it.” Or so she put it. No one really understood what she meant, except maybe…Jean. The girl had come out of nowhere, in one heck of a bad mood, and melded into Ororo’s body, so she could pick up objects, and smash a few windows, and to have someone framed. Hadn’t she gone yet? Her widowed husband really needed to get a life.

Fumbling through her bag, she pulled out the apartment building key, and unlocked the main doors. Her fingers gently worked the alarm system, putting in her PIN, and soon after making her way to the stairs.

“Hey Sugah, you been somewhere?” Her southern accented neighbour, and long time friend Anna-Marie asked, as they crossed on the stairs. Bad luck, baby doll.

“Hey you going somewhere. I mean look at you, your all dressed up.” Ororo answered running her fingers through the material of Anna’s dress. “You got a manicure and everything.”

“Yep, got me a date.” She squealed.

“No, never, you a date…” Ororo said sarcastically, her mouth open. For humour se brought up one of her thumps to push the bottom jaw, creating a clang of the teeth.

“Uh-huh. With no other than Remy Lebeau. Who Ah might add is scrumptious. Ah could eat him.”

“Mmmm I know what you mean,” They stood there in thought for a moment, until Ororo snapped her fingers “Better not keep him waiting.” Anna nodded, a nervous smile on her face.

“I thought you were supposed to keep them waiting?”

“Yeah, when they purpose.”

“Yes please.” Anna waved over her shoulder and bolted her way down the stairs, as Ororo found her apartment door.

Upon getting inside, she pressed her back to it and slumped slightly, taking in a deep breath. ‘A nice warm bath would be good with bubbles, and don’t forget the scented candles.’ she stamped her feet like a child and sulked, “Why can’t I have a date with Remy Lebeau?” She shouted, loud enough to scare the birds from their perch on the window sill.

“Hello!” She jumped at the intrusion. Male voice, deep, ‘I recognise that voice’.

“Forge!! What the hell are you doing here!” She bellowed, at the top of her lungs. Yeah she was pissed off.

“I said I’d come down, and I came down, what the problem?”

“The problem is that I asked you to come down last week to help with all the boxes.” She smiled sweetly, “But as you can see,” She swiped her hand around the room, “I’ve already done that.”

“Hey look I’m sorry. How about to I take you out tonight?” Was he sorry? He sounded sorry, but he was a good liar. ‘Hey Forge how’s that Rayne, no Raven?’

“Can’t busy, washing my hair. Oh and it’s a school night, so you’ll be working tomorrow.” Ha, eat me you prick. ‘I can be as persuasive as the next person.’

“I’ll take you out to dinner tomorrow then.” ‘Damn!’

“Can’t, working.” ‘My hand will be giving me more attention than you this week, asshole.’

“Blow it off!” He was frowning, and pouting. ‘Ah, so Raven didn’t give him any, English teachers!’

“Naw, she’d rather blow you off bub!” Ororo smiled, company. At least someone was on the same page as her.

“Yeah, tell me about it, ha” She stood there laughing to herself, why? He had no idea. Great, she was talking to herself again, not a good sign.

“Tell you about what,” She stared at him with that ‘what are you talking about’ face, “Never mind.”

“Is this guy of yers crazy or just oblivious?” The voice broke through again, Ororo nodded her head, and looked at Forge deeply, as if searching his soul. She raised both eyebrows, and turned around. She jumped, some random, but hot guy was in her apartment and it wasn’t Forge. Oh god.

“Ororo, is everything okay?” ‘He’s oblivious, of course everything’s not okay, there’s a man here and your just standing there…wait…your just standing there.’

“Could you leave, please.” She asked or more over told the stranger, the ghost, or more profound term supernatural being.

“I was just going to!” She snapped her head around to be met by a breeze and a blur.

“No Forge not you, him, Forge…Come back, I didn’t mean the hand thing honest!” She said catching the door in one hand and shouting after him, “Fine don’t listen to me…Fuck you too!”

He waited for her as she came back into the apartment. He watched her as she steadily came back into the room. He rubbed his hands together and said, “So what’s the deal with yer hand?” She groaned at him in response, “Fair enough.”

“Who the heck are you?” She asked as nicely as possible, “And what the hell are you doing in my house?”

“First things first, it was my house before ya came, and two who I am is none of yer business.” She nodded in agreement, or so he thought. ‘Blue eyes-odd, white hair-very odd, cinnamon or mocha coloured skin-even weirder. Beautiful and perfect all the same. that’s what I don’t like, too innocent, the young ones always are.’

She smiled, “Your Logan Howlett.” ‘How the fuck did she know that’ “You’re here for your sketch book right?” He nodded. “There good, your good. To be honest, I stole some of the ideas. I’m an artist you see.”

Ororo made her way over to the next room, he followed. The room had changed dramatically from when he last saw it. Half finished canvases’ were dotted around the room, different coloured paint lay everywhere in the appropriate jars. Near the large window stood an easel light shone on it, reminding him of how Mariko left. ‘The dead can die twice’ he thought.

Ororo bent to her knees and opened the bottom draw of the wooden dresser, that stood alone, but not abandoned. She dug her hand in the pile of loose papers, and sifted some of the old albums. Photos were great when it came to painting people, you could recapture it, of how you felt in that frozen memory. Once her hand felt an object of a distant texture, she carefully tugged, pulling the book from it’s security.

“Here we go.” She stood, and to make it more dramatic she blew air over it to remove the ‘dust’, before handing it over. He snatched it from her hand and opened it, checking everything was okay. He smiled.

“I’m Ororo by the way.” She said holding out her hand, he looked at it but he didn’t take it, formal introductions weren’t his thing. Besides he knew who she was.

“Yeah I know. I do live here, so I’ve seen ya ‘round.”

“How come I haven’t seen you?”

“I keep my self contained in the walls. It’s an old parlour trick.” His smile widened, as his eyes drifted down her form. She shuddered the good kind.

“What? Why are you looking at me? It‘s unnerving.”

“If were to live together, I think you can tell me ‘bout ‘the hand thing’.”

She laughed, and to him, it was the nicest laugh he’d heard in years. It was at that moment that Mariko‘s words echoed in his mind, ‘Trust can be a good thing, Logan, remember that. I love you.’

‘Love can go along way to Mariko, I’ve remembered that too.’





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