#Paradyse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

judyprincess · 4 months ago

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Too Pink For me - Logan Howlett

01: The eyes of paradyse

Mutant.

It was the only word I remembered when I woke up on a hospital gurney. I was a girl of barely seven years old. The memory is as distant and blurry as a blind man without his glasses.

I couldn't even recall anything about my family or what had happened. How did I end up there? Who had said that word to me? All I saw was a man, his hand warm, his body wrapped in an expensive, elegant suit. The man who had chosen to save me from the wreckage-where the sea that drowned me was inside my own head, a storm of thoughts that made no sense, waves without memories.

"Ross"

That's what the man called me, addressing me by that name. But... was that really my name?

"Her mutation is strange. It deeply affects her body."

"It alters the melanin in her hair and eyes."

"Her eyes... they're the greenest I've ever seen."

"She's changing... her..."

Voices... the voices faded away. The white coats became nothing more than blotches dissolving into darkness as I closed my eyes once again.

_______________________________________

In a corner of Venice, the beautiful Italian city, the sun shone radiantly in the sky, signaling yet another warm day in ancient Europe.

In a small, colorful building facing the shoreline that encircled Venice, murals could be seen painted across its walls. Every house was vibrant, but this one in particular was painted white, adorned with intricate artwork that formed a cohesive mural, much like a tattoo on a person.

If you were a visitor, you might think the house belonged to an artist, or at the very least that an artist lived there-and you would be right. In this small Venetian town, there was an artist beloved by the local people. A girl who occasionally strolled through the village, and whenever she did, she was showered with compliments and kindness. Many spoke of her to visitors, as her house had become a sort of tourist attraction-a house filled with paintings reminiscent of the old art that once flourished during the reigns of kings and queens across Europe.

People came to see the house, took photos, and if they were lucky, they might even catch a glimpse of the artist herself, painting on her property. And in the whispers of the crowd, you could hear them say that this girl was as surreal and otherworldly as the very paintings she created-a vision plucked straight from fantasy.

And those were the words that Ororo and Jean-both women from the X-Men team-heard as they wandered through the lively town in search of the girl whom the locals seemed to know so well, yet not at all.

"Eh ciao..." Ororo attempted to speak a bit of Italian to get the attention of the flower stall vendor. "La casa della fantasia?"

Ororo cursed her foreign accent, hoping the man understood her, while Jean let out a small laugh at her attempt with the local language.

"Oh... Vuoi vedere la casa della Rosellina." The man smiled, realizing they were tourists eager to see the town's main attraction-the house of the artist. "Ah, la bella Rosellina. You need to follow this path and at the end, turn right."

The man gestured to Jean and Storm, his Italian accent thick but still understandable. Ororo thanked the man for his kindness in pointing them toward the artist's house.

"Grazie mille."

Jean expressed her gratitude as she and Ororo headed down the street.

Rosellina.

That's what the locals called the artist who lived in the house that resembled a living canvas. The name meant "Little Rose," a name that both mutants found intriguing-just as intriguing as the way the townspeople spoke of the girl with such affection, despite the rumors that she wasn't someone who roamed the town often.

When they reached the end of the street, they were greeted by the sight of the sea-though that wasn't difficult to find in Venice. The shore was adorned with beautiful flowers, a well-kept dock, and small canoes. Ororo thought to herself that she would love to live in a town like this, a place untouched by danger, where no one seemed to care about appearances-a place straight out of a fairy tale, where people came to escape from it all. Jean, on the other hand, couldn't imagine living anywhere other than the mansion with the rest of the team.

"The professor seems to have been right; this is a place far removed from everything. No one here seems to mind having her around. In fact, they adore her," Ororo remarked, taking a moment to appreciate the sea.

"Yes, I also found it curious how much affection they have when they speak of her. Mutants don't usually get that kind of reaction, whether you're in China or America," Jean responded, voicing her own curiosity.

What was it about this girl that made the townspeople cherish her as Rome was cherished for its magnificent ruins?

Following the vendor's directions, Ororo and Jean turned right and soon spotted, at the end of the short street, a white house decorated with beautiful hand-painted artwork. As if the house itself were a canvas, the paintings came together in perfect harmony, despite each one telling a different story. Somehow, they made sense together.

"I can see why tourists are amazed by this house," Ororo murmured, her eyes following each painting, captivated by what she saw. Was this the Casa della Fantasia?

It was a stunning sight, and for both women, it made perfect sense why so many people came to this little Venetian town just to see this enchanting house-an art piece not housed in a museum.

Rosellina must possess extraordinary talent. Could her mutation be connected to it? Ororo wondered. The fact that the house drew so many people and brought money to the town could be one of the reasons why the mutant was so beloved, but something told the silver-haired mutant that it went beyond that. The people adored her for something else.

But what was it?

"She's incredibly talented..." Jean commented with admiration, her eyes tracing the paintings that grew clearer as they approached the house.

As if the heavens wanted to answer Ororo's unspoken questions, a voice called out from the balcony.

"Do you like it?..."

A soft voice, like a melody. Ororo and Jean looked up, both surprised to see the girl standing on the balcony.

Now, Ororo could understand why the people adored this mutant, why she was the source of such admiration and the whispers of tourists who had caught a glimpse of her. Standing on the balcony was a young woman, certainly no older than 25, watching them. She had pastel pink hair, soft and delicate like silk, cascading down to her lower back. Her skin was pale as milk, her face beautifully doll-like, but what stood out the most-what fascinated both Ororo and Jean-were her eyes. They were large and the most stunning shade of green, brighter than any emerald Ororo had ever seen, glowing like the gem itself.

It was as if she were an illusion, not quite real. She looked as though she was part of the paintings themselves.

Was this the beloved Rosellina?

It took Ororo a moment, as it did for Jean, to break free from the spell of her gaze.

"My name is Ororo, and this is my colleague Jean," she introduced herself with a warm smile, looking at the girl. "Are you Rosellina?"

The girl smiled softly, kindly.

"That's right, signorina," she replied, nodding her head.

"We came to talk to you, if that's alright?" Jean stepped forward, getting to the point of their visit.

The girl observed them and laughed, as if she knew that Ororo and Jean weren't ordinary.

"Of course. Come in, the door is open," she gestured toward the door below.

The door was painted in such a way that it looked like the entrance to a forest, creating the illusion of stepping into a magical realm. What kind of mutant was this girl? Both women could only confirm more and more the words Charles had told them before their journey to Italy.

She is special.

Once inside the house, Ororo and Jean admired their surroundings. The interior had a farmhouse decor, adorned with plenty of plants and flowers. It was just as cozy and beautiful inside as it was outside. As they entered the living room where the girl was already waiting for them with cups of tea on the table, they noticed the stunning paintings in various well-known artistic styles. There was also an unfinished canvas on the open balcony, waiting to be completed. The scent of fresh oil paint mixed with a strawberry fragrance from one of the nearby tables, meant to keep the smell of the paint from overwhelming the space.

"I apologize for the smell of paint," Rosellina said with a small, embarrassed smile as she sat down on one of the sofas in her living room. "I hope you enjoy the tea-it's apple, a specialty of our little town."

Ororo and Jean thanked her for her hospitality. She was as gentle as her appearance suggested.

"Don't worry about it, and please excuse us for the intrusion," Jean said as she took a small sniff of the tea. The aroma was wonderful, and the taste did not disappoint its presentation.

"To what do I owe the honor? Are you looking for a painting?" Rosellina asked, taking a sip of her tea as she crossed her legs. Both women could see paint stains on her arms, evidence of the unfinished piece waiting for her on the balcony.

"No, well-let me say, you have extraordinary talent, hard to miss-but our visit actually concerns your mutation," Ororo quickly clarified their purpose.

Rosellina paused, lifting her gaze to look at them both.

"Mi scusi?" She raised an eyebrow in their direction, wondering if she had heard correctly.

"Your father, Mr. Wilson, is a friend of our mentor, Charles Xavier. Does that name sound familiar?" Jean joined in, gently guiding the conversation into sensitive territory.

"No, I didn't know... I'm not very aware of my father's friendships," she responded softly, with a smile.

Ororo didn't need Charles' or Jean's powers to know that behind that smile was a sea of melancholy, like the sea that embraced Venice itself.

"I believe you've noticed that neither of us are normal-we're mutants, like you," Ororo said, to which the girl nodded and smiled, as if pleased to have guessed it.

"Your father reached out to Charles. He told him about you," Ororo continued.

Rosellina looked more interested now, clearly surprised. Her father, Jackson Wilson, was a politician who worked for the Pentagon-the constant hotbed of mutant hunters.

"He mentioned that you were here alone in Venice and that he would like you to attend the school Charles runs, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Jean added, noticing the girl's silence.

"A school?" Rosellina's emerald eyes gleamed at the mention of her father's message to his friend. "With other mutants?"

They both sensed the excitement in her voice, and Ororo, for what she thought was just her imagination, saw her eyes grow even more vibrant in color.

"Yes, that's right. There are other mutants-Jean and I are teachers at the school," Ororo responded. "Though, of course, you wouldn't be a typical student."

Rosellina tilted her head in confusion, like a lost kitten. Ororo couldn't help but chuckle at this girl who seemed plucked right out of a fantasy book. She had never met anyone like her.

"You're quite a bit older-you probably know most of the things we teach the younger students at our school. Our oldest students are around 18 at most, before they can join the X-Men team," Ororo explained further as she took a sip of her tea.

"Charles envisions you staying at the mansion, learning a few things and honing your abilities," Ororo concluded.

Rosellina felt a flutter in her heart. Could she really train her abilities and be surrounded by more people? Was she ready for that after so many years alone in her small home, isolated from everything?

"Recruit me as an X-Men?" was her response after processing all the information.

"Essentially. But we'd also like to see what your abilities are. Would you mind giving us a small demonstration?" Jean asked.

Rosellina smiled and gazed intently into both their eyes. They were both mesmerized by the brilliance of her green eyes.

"Do you enjoy the view?" she said.

Ororo and Jean were momentarily puzzled until suddenly, as if reality itself had warped, they found themselves surrounded by a beautiful forest. Ororo recognized the scene-it was the forest she had seen painted on the door before entering. They were inside the forest. But how? Jean looked around, hearing the clear sounds of the woods; everything seemed and felt so real.

"What...?" Ororo moved and her foot collided with something, causing her to wince slightly in pain. She knew what it was-the table that had been in front of her. Was this all an illusion? When had she created it, and how? The illusion was so realistic, she could even feel the sun's rays warming her dark skin.

"An illusion," Jean said.

The view around them shifted back to the living room of the house, as Rosellina watched them with a small smile, her eyes glowing faintly.

"Your eyes... it's your eyes that hold your power," Ororo realized. It had been when they had looked into Rosellina's eyes that they were transported to that forest.

Neither woman had ever seen anything like it-not on this level. But something told them this wasn't all the girl could do.

"That's right. My eyes are where the mutation is most present," she confirmed Ororo's observation.

"But you don't just create illusions, do you?" Jean asked cautiously.

That level of control over the mind required an incredible amount of power, which, if misused, could cause extreme mental damage to the person experiencing the hallucinations that Rosellina could create.

"No." She clarified, "My powers continue to evolve over time-or at least that's how I think it works."

She laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at not being able to give a clear explanation.

"My eyes give me excellent vision-sometimes I feel like I can see through walls, and other times I can't, probably because I'm not fully aware of my range. In general, I can see from quite a distance. Also, they're very quick-sometimes I can anticipate small actions before they happen. They allow me to read books quickly, and I have a photographic memory. I could say that if I see something I've never done but observe how it's done, I could replicate it."

Rosellina explained her powers in part, and Jean understood that this was because the mutant wasn't even fully aware of the extent of her abilities or what they could do. This made it more difficult to classify her, and what worried Jean even more was the potential danger she could pose.

Mutants with mental control abilities were always dangerous to some degree. And the fact that Rosellina herself said her powers were still developing only gave Jean more reason to believe she urgently needed to attend the school so that Charles could help her, as he had helped her.

Ororo, on the other hand, took on a more protective stance toward the girl. After hearing a bit of what she was capable of, she better understood certain things-like how her paintings seemed to be created by some renowned artist from another era. They were perfect. Furthermore, she was a girl living alone in this house for who knows how long, rarely leaving to visit the town, living isolated in her own home. In a world of her own fantasies.

Compassion. That's what Ororo felt.

Even her father, a man with resources and influence, didn't seem to visit her. Rosellina wasn't even aware of what her father did or didn't do, aside from what little she might catch in the news. Ororo thought that meeting new people, living among other mutants, and making friends would do her a world of good. Rosellina was so kind that she was sure people would adore her at the mansion just as much as the villagers did.

"Come with us to the school. You'll be able to learn more about your abilities and put them to good use. The Professor can help you," Ororo offered warmly.

Rosellina looked at Ororo-the dark-skinned woman was offering her the chance to learn more about herself and her abilities. Her heart pounded with such intensity, like a drum at a carnival.

Leaving her small town embraced by the sea, leaving Venice, leaving her home... Going with these two women who offered the cure to her loneliness and the mystery of her powers.

All those thoughts flooded Rosellina's mind.

"Really?"

There was nothing but excitement in her voice as she uttered those words, as if her very appearance became even more vibrant.

"Of course," Ororo said with a smile towards her, seeing the excitement in her eyes.

Rosellina rose from her seat, her face lighting up with a vibrant smile as she looked at them.

"I'll go get my things."

She announced before leaving them, almost running. She didn't ask questions or anything; she simply went to gather her things, thrilled at the thought of leaving with the two mutants.

Jean and Ororo glanced at each other before bursting into laughter at the young woman's enthusiasm.

"She's so adorable," Ororo let slip with a grin.

As they waited, Jean and Ororo strolled around the place, eager to explore before departing for America. Naturally, the girl needed some time to pack. Jean wandered to the balcony, where Rosellina's unfinished painting awaited her.

I guess Rosellina won't be able to finish you, Jean thought as she gazed at the painting, still half-done. Only a path could be seen-a trail through a forest, a path without a visible end.

Where did Rosellina intend for that path to lead?

It seemed they would never know, as Rosellina would leave with them, and that path would remain unfinished.

Ororo wandered past the walls, smiling with each painting she saw. The canvases were so beautiful-dancing muses, lively meals, places that seemed too incredible to exist. She was sure Charles would love it if Rosellina could contribute some of her works to the mansion. He was a man who appreciated art and history.

As Ororo turned, she noticed a slightly ajar door up a small staircase. Through the crack, she could see more paintings. An attic? Ororo thought. It felt improper to indulge her curiosity, but curiosity won over common sense.

Ororo climbed the stairs cautiously and pushed the door open a bit more, just enough for a small peek. A little look wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

Her eyes widened at what she saw. She had expected old or unfinished paintings similar to those that adorned the house. But no. These paintings were... eerie. The magical, fairy-tale-like forests that seemed to be the hallmark of her work had turned into a living nightmare.

Creatures born of nightmares, people fleeing from visible horrors. Red, fire, terror, blackness.

In an instant, pink had shifted to black.

Ororo scanned the paintings quickly. Why were these paintings hidden away in the attic? The darkness hidden within the pink that decorated the rest of the house, an unseen shadow that seemed absent from Rosellina's bright eyes.

She felt slightly uncomfortable but impressed. The style reminded her of that romanticism movement, of how Charles had once shown her the paintings of the Spanish painter Goya, who lost his mind over the years. After the war, and with his hearing gone, his art had changed as he became exiled to France in the 19th century. That memory led Ororo to think that artists often had their hearts tied to their hands, painting what dwelled in their minds, letting those thoughts spill out.

Could this be a representation of Rosellina's loneliness?

She wasn't sure, unable to draw solid conclusions. Perhaps a visit to Goya's works had inspired her to create her own collection of dark art, copying them with her gifted eyes. Perhaps she had hidden these paintings for herself, knowing they were not the type of art most people would enjoy. But these paintings must have meant something. Still, Ororo decided not to ask Rosellina about them. It was private, after all, and she shouldn't be here. She wouldn't give the girl the bitter taste of knowing she had snooped into something she kept hidden.

But it was something small that she would definitely mention to Charles upon their return.

Once Rosellina had everything packed, the three women stood outside the house. Rosellina turned to look at her home one last time, her gaze lingering on the balcony where her unfinished canvas still rested. She closed her eyes as if saying goodbye to her sanctuary. She looked around at the sea that had always surrounded her, the same sea that sang lullabies to her during the night.

I'm ready.

She thought, smiling one last time at her beloved town. At least she knew that the house would remain, bringing happiness to tourists who visited. Her contribution would remain as a treasure to the town that cherished it. She would miss her golden Venice, though she knew she would return one day.

"Shall we?" Rosellina heard Jean's voice behind her.

She turned her back to her house and looked at both women, nodding confidently. Ready to take that path into the unknown.

"Yes."

______________________________________

Paradise was granted to the innocent soul, free from greed, sinless, endowed with wonders.

But when does the blessing turn into a curse?

When does the paradise shown become the depths of hell?

#fanifiction #fanfic #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #james logan howlett #wolwerine #x men #oc × canon #hugh jackman #booklr #xmen fanfiction

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