Mystique. (hertruecolors) wrote in thedoorway, @ 2015-07-21 23:24:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | kurt wagner / nightcrawler(616), raven darkholme / mystique (movie) |
Who: Blue mutants on a roof (Mystique and Kurt Wagner)
When: Around the 6th?
Where: The X-"Mansion"
What: Kurt and Mystique compare lives. It actually doesn't go terribly!
Rating: TBH, a little high, child abandonment and abuse are in their backgrounds.
With only a few exceptions, this version of New York City was just like Kurt’s. There were some new buildings rising in the skyline, and some of the businesses were different, but the layout of the city streets were exactly the same. And so, when Kurt found out the location of the X-Men’s mansion, the first thing he did was teleport outside, high above the city, to get his bearings, before teleporting in rapid succession in that direction. In this way, it didn’t take Kurt long before he found himself comfortably crouching upon the roof of the old, brick building. It was a far cry from the Mansion he knew in his universe, but Kurt wouldn’t let this get him down - as long as he was here, this would be home. Later, he would enter and check out the place, but for the moment, he remained perched upon the edge, waiting for Mystique to emerge. This was where he told her to meet him, and in the shadows, he was nearly invisible. Mystique wasn’t sure what to expect from Kurt. She was supposedly his mother in another life. But if Azazel was dead where she came from, Kurt would never exist for her. All the screwing with timelines made her angry. Couldn’t they have gone back further-- to save Angel, Banshee, and Azazel? To save all those mutants that gave their life for nothing? She came out onto the roof-- in her blue form with a blanket draped around her. She stood there for a few moments before realizing Kurt was there. “Hello.” Kurt had spotted her long before she did, which was a good thing. It gave him a few moments to steady his breath to calm down, remembering that this Mystique had nothing to do with the one he knew at home. He didn’t need to carry over the same baggage he had from his world. So why was he meeting her to discuss his history with this other Mystique? Well, for one, she had wanted to know. But also, Kurt felt like if he wanted to have a decent relationship with this other Mystique, he would have to face the ghosts of his past head on, so that he wouldn’t always be blaming her for things she had nothing to do with. She must’ve noticed his glowing yellow eyes peering at her. Kurt leaped from the ledge and stood straight, walking closer, holding himself stiffer than he ordinarily would, guarding himself by out of instinct. “Hullo,” he replied, once he came out of the shadows and into her vision. “I’m Kurt Wagner. Mystique stared at him for a moment. She then pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. He was breathtaking, she thought. And to know that someone else looked like her-- so much like her, not just like Hank. Someone that could be her family-- well, it was a bit much to take in. Her whole life she was told to look ‘normal.’ Her whole life she felt she didn’t belong anywhere. And now this man stood before her. “What’s your other name?” This was a question that Kurt hadn’t really anticipated. He’d noted her astonishment by the expression upon her face; it wasn’t like the fear and horror he’d often seen when people, unaccustomed to his mutant form, would react. Mystique’s reaction was something else that he couldn’t quite place, and for some reason, it made him nervous. This was stupid, Kurt thought. Why should he be nervous? It was all in his mind. Shaking these thoughts, Kurt held his arms down limp at his sides, his tail swaying slowly behind him as he took another careful step closer. And then another. “My code name is Nightcrawler.” Kurt smiled, then chuckled. “I’m named after a worm,” he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but his smile quickly faded. The closer the got, he noticed the scales on her face, her body. Was she even wearing clothes under the blanket she’d wrapped around herself? “You’re able to shapeshift?” he asked, confirming what he only assumed once she introduced herself, online. She noticed the look on his face-- he wasn’t comfortable. No, this probably wouldn’t go smoothly. Mystique knew what she was capable of in her own life. The things she did to survive. It made her wonder if she had hurt this boy-- this man. He was probably the same age she was now. (Then again, she was older than she looked). God, it was so obvious to her now. She was a horrible mother to this person. Maybe she could make up for that now. “No, I like it. Nightcrawler. It’s… it’s beautiful.” When he asked if she could shapeshift, she dropped the blanket. She shifted into him-- then into the blonde girl she often took the shape of. The girl wore pajamas that you’d see on a man in the 50’s. Light blue. “I’m also light on my feet.” Kurt had witnessed Mystique change form before in his world - it was done smoothly, like one of those computer generated programs that seamlessly morphed one person’s image into another. In contrast, the way this Mystique’s scales shifted and rearranged themselves, looking almost like feathers at times, or perhaps mosaic tiles, was so artful and amazing that Kurt couldn’t help but smile as he watched. “As am I,” Kurt revealed, continuing her train of thought about being light on their feet. “Please, return to your true form, he asked, waiting to continue only after she’d done so. “You wanted to hear about my birth-mother.” He slowly shook his head. “You don’t have to worry. You’re not like her. Even the way you shape-shift is different.” He extended hand for her to take. “I understand it’s natural for you to make that comparison, but I think…I know, you would’ve made a better mother than my own.” The fact that she told him she had mistrust toward Magneto and had faith in Charles was the clincher, in Kurt’s mind; anybody who thought that couldn’t be as bad. At least not as bad as his universe’s Mystique. She considered staying in the form of the blonde girl. But when he asked-- she smiled at him. Mystique returned to the scaly blue girl. She crouched to pick up the blanket and held it with one hand. The other, she put into Kurt’s hand. She immediately felt closer to him, as he admitted he thought she would have been a better mother. It made her wonder if he was right. Maybe being raised alongside Charles changed her. The other Mystique didn’t have him. “Yes, I would like to know about her. Out of curiosity. And maybe so that I might not make the same mistakes she made.” Kurt returned the smile and with Mystique’s hand in his own, he walked over to the ledge of the building where he sat. “You wanted to know… what she did to me.” After a thoughtful moment, he continued, “She’d used her shape shifting to disguise herself around ordinary people. After she gave birth to me, looking the way I do, they immediately assumed I was a demon child, and that killing me would be the merciful thing to do. But her labor was so hard, that she lost control and took her natural shape, so they also accused her of being a demon, as well. She fled with me, the townsfolk at her heels. Then she made the decision to disguise herself again, to avoid being caught. However, I was a burden to her, so she abandoned me in a river, left me to die.” There was no malice reflected in his voice when he told his story, and once finished, he glanced over at Mystique with a small smile. “But God had other plans. I was found by a sorceress, who was working in a circus as a fortune teller. She raised me along with her two other children, as if I were her own. I was raised with love, free from prejudice and shame, around circus performers, who were accustomed to people with unusual appearances. By God’s grace, it worked out for the best.” With her hand in Kurt’s hand, she listened to the story. A few times, she wondered if she should take it back and keep it far away from him. The other Mystique-- well, she did what she had to do. This Mystique… she didn’t think she could do such a thing. She would have escaped with the child hidden. Her own flesh and blood treated her awful. She couldn’t have done the same thing to Kurt. Mystique studied Kurt’s face before responding. “I’m glad you found a good home. I’m sorry… if it means anything, for what she did. I don’t think I would have done the same thing. But it’s hard to say. ...When I was born, my mother died. My father was terrified of me. He… wasn’t a nice man to me.” “You were abused.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of acknowledgment, laced with empathy. Kurt squeezed her hand. He’d been lucky while growing up, but as an adult he’d seen his share of abuse. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.” If it was too emotional for Mystique to discuss, he didn’t want her to become upset. Kurt thought to ask her something that might’ve been more uplifting, and since she mentioned her relationship with Professor Xavier, he asked, “When did you meet Charles?” Mystique nodded at his remark. Better to not speak of it. She never understood what was good about repeating things that were awful. Why relive such a thing? “I was about … I don’t know how old I was. Charles was about ten or eleven. He told me I’d never have to steal food again. He made his family believe I was his sister. He took good care of me…” She trailed off before sharing a bit more, “When we got older and we’d go out, he’d keep me from drinking-- so that I didn’t accidentally shift in front of people. He kept me well hidden…” She sounded sad at that. The fact that they HAVE to hide, not that he did it for her. Kurt didn’t need to tell her how sad he felt over her childhood situation, his long face spoke volumes of empathy. “That sounds like Charles, alright,” he said, mustering a smile. “Coming in for the rescue. He did the same for me, freezing an entire angry mob who was determined to kill me. That’s when he recruited me for the X-Men. And in my world, he directly or indirectly saved many, many more mutants like us, gave them a place of shelter, to be educated, to find acceptance. If I trust anybody in this world, it’s that man.” Mystique looked down at her hand still wrapped in Kurt’s. She hadn’t touched anyone so tenderly in so long. She missed Charles-- it had been so long since she had seen him until he appeared to before she went to kill Trask. She thought she’d never see him again. It just didn’t feel the same, he was from a different point in time. He was like a photograph. “I trust him, too-- I’m glad he saved you, Kurt. And I’m sorry for what ...what could have been me.” Flashing her a smile, Kurt told her, “It’s nice that you’re apologizing, because it shows you have a conscious and a good heart. But we shouldn’t focus on what might’ve been, or what our alter-egos have done in another dimensions, since there’s nothing we can do about it, and only will drive us mad. We start now, with where we are in the present moment, and move forward from there, okay?” He gave her hand another squeeze. “How about you give me a tour of the mansion?” |