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This is a double response and doesn't
entirely fit either challenge, but it's what came out. No
it's not, Mel.
CONTINUITY: None.
MONEY EARNED FROM THIS: Definitely none.
CHARACTERS MINE: Also none. They belong to Marvel,
who doesn't love him nearly as much and me and Alara
do. <Looks over at comics and shudders.> Magneto war...
Noooo...
FEEDBACK: Craved.
STORY OWNERSHIP: Mine.
"I don't care."
Rogue had looked at him strangely when he'd said that. "You
sure?" She didn't believe him. How silly.
"Yes. Honestly, you cannot expect that I had not realised
it would end like this. I can't say that I won't have a few
fond memories of the might-have-been, but at the same time
I can't say the reality will be missed."
Liar, hissed an inner thought. It was ignored.
I don't care.
Magnus politely excused himself from the gathering of mutants,
pleading tiredness. He had 'saved the world' just last week,
after all. Once safely in his own rooms he sighed and walked
to the mirror, making sure that none of his depression showed
on his face. No, not really. A little resigned, perhaps. The
eyes were too sad though, he turned away from the mirror.
Even his own scrutiny was unwelcome. The desk was comfortingly
familiar, and as always covered with peaceful work to do.
I don't care.
The glass vase from the desk hurtled across the room with
all the force a strongly-built, well-toned man can muster.
It shattered with a satisfying crash. Several other things
followed. Then Magnus reined in his anger, crushing it determinedly.
He banished all thoughts of turning New Orleans into rubble,
Gambit hadn't seen her in a year and probably had nothing
to do with it. Instead he tsked quietly to himself and cleaned
up the debris, attributing the childish display to bruised
ego.
I don't care.
The few unhappy tears were somehow necessary, probably his
sense of drama. A few moments to grieve Might-Have-Been. Then
Magnus pulled on a pair of headphones and opened a complicated
history book. That way he wouldn't be able to hear himself.
I don't care.
His emotions had been pushed and squeezed into a box. Magnus,
calmly lying in bed, was now philosophically resigned to the
fact that they were both almost certainly better off this
way. A little lonely, a little sad. He'd get over it. He was
Magneto, aloof, unassailable. Unbreakable. Inside, a mocking
lie echoed endlessly through the emptiness the suppressed
emotions had left.
Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare...
He didn't attach any importance to the fact that he now habitually
slept with his arms wrapped around himself, his own security
and comfort.
Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare...
Magnus paid absolutely no attention to the cold, heavy weight
on his soul. It was rather familiar, and not worth noticing.
Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare...
He was Magneto, the Master of Magnetism, the Mutant Messiah
and many other M words. He didn't care.
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