if words could make wishes come true

[morethanhuman]

"Would you stop that?" Erik said, the exasperation in his voice not quite enough to cover over the laughing undertone it held. "You're the one who was put so out of sorts by my levitating an olive jar, and here you are nearly setting the hotel on fire."

Jordan shot him a look, an arched eyebrow and a pursed mouth that were somehow unmistakably her own, despite appearing on features that had yet to become familiar. She also ignored his request, and continued to pass a ball of flame back and forth between her hands with little flicks of her fingers. The fire was self-contained, but every now and then a little tongue of orange would fizzle up into the air, hissing as it dissipated. He hardly noticed them; his eyes were fixed on the fiery sphere and the corona of flame that clung to Jordan's palms as she tossed it back and forth. Incredible. He could barely contain his excitement.

He hadn't believed it at first— neither phenomenon, and Erik couldn't decide which was more preposterous: that passing through one of the hotel doors could grant mutant powers to someone who hadn't been born to them, or that going through another could send a person back out with a completely different body than the one they'd gone in with.

Well— not completely different. Jordan still had neat, dark hair and bright blue eyes, pale skin and a wry, soft mouth. But they looked very different on her usual body than they did on the trim, smartly dressed man currently sitting beside Erik, playing catch with a handful of fire. "Don't be such a killjoy," she admonished, but she was laughing too, and it was still Jordan's laugh, even if it was an octave or two lower than normal. "I'm not going to set anything on fire."

"You say that now," Erik teased. "But when the arboretum goes up in flames, don't think for a second I'll stick around to share the blame."

Comments

[incurablydishonest]

"I should set you on fire, might make you a bit more lively," Jordan was quick to reply, a teasing tilt to her mouth as she lounged back against the bench, watching him. This new body she was still getting used to, but the core of her felt the same, new flesh on an old frame, and her bearing was unaltered—Too masculine to be entirely feminine, and now too feminine for masculinity. Either way, she liked it.

"I don't simply start fires, darling, I control them," she continued, watching Erik as he watched her hands, licks of fire now leaping from finger to finger, reflected in his wary eyes. With a quick flick of her wrist, she clamped her hand shut, and when she splayed it out again, there was nothing but a wisp of smoke in her palm.

"Or perhaps you could be more lively without it." Blue eyes still fixed upon him, Jordan arched one aristocratic eyebrow and gave the slightest nudge—Just the hint of a suggestion, really—and waited to see what Erik might do.