Dark Phoenix


A/N : Eira and Ben are characters dear to my heart, from the very first blog serial I managed to see all the way through. (Next to Raising Rachel, of course). I couldn’t resist writing them again, a few years in the future, after their harrowing adventures have settled to a tolerable minimum. In this snippet, they are married and the specter of Ben’s Phoenix transformations aren’t lingering. I am working on a few serial with them and can’t wait to share it with you all–Soon! 

“Eira? Have you seen my cloak?” The Dark Phoenix—Ben—strode through the tunnel connecting the house to their favorite practice arena.

He’d been searching for the blasted thing for nearly three hours and only the thought that perhaps his darling wife had borrowed it, had granted him some measure of peace.

Until it had occurred to him that a certain, disgruntled portion of his famed powers may have been a tad unhappy with his recent absence. He sighed.

“Eira?” he tried again.

“…Coming!” Her voice floated down from the far end of the high, observatory ceiling.

Ben stared. He was reasonably sure that the practice arena had distinctly looked as one should—and most certainly did not resemble a planetary observatory in any way, shape or form.

To his relief, Eira was indeed wearing his precious travel cloak as she descended in a flutter of black fabric, gliding down to his outstretched arms.

She beamed up at him and he stole a kiss, just to see the way her eyes lit up from within.

“I see my cloak has taken on a life of its own,” he said, mildly.

“It’s cold up there,” Eira said, matter-of-factly. “Like it?”

“I might, if I knew what you were doing.”

Eira’s grin widened. She wriggled to be set down and straightened out the cloak, once she was upright. “Keep thinking, it’ll come back to you.”

“Oh?” He followed her back through the tunnel to the house. “Should I be worried?”

“Of course not,” she stepped out into the mudroom, toeing off her boots and unclasping the cloak.

He blinked in surprise when she whisked it off of her shoulders and expertly onto his.

“Happy birthday, love,” she kissed his cheek. “Dinner’s in an hour. Go meditate.”

He put a hand to his cheek, watching her all but dance off to the kitchen. After a moment, a slow smile blossomed, stretching across his face.

(c) S. Harricharan

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