againsttheworld | open rp post ▶

People who could be friends, and who wouldn't tell him he had to change any part of him. It was something Raven was adjusting to as well, after having realised that maybe Charles had actually been getting her to hide all along. It had stung, just a touch.

Her eyes shifted down as he moved, widening just slightly at the peek of wings she could now see. Part of her wanted to move and see if she couldn't tempt him into expanding them fully, but she figured she was better off gaining his trust first. One thing at a time.

"Havoc," she explained. "The one who can shoot off energy blasts."

Maybe it would've been a little easier to believe and adjust to if he bothered to willingly have conversations with everyone else. But he was too anti-social and socially awkward to approach people himself or simply hand out information. Not that that was entirely his fault, either, considering he could count on one hand the amount of times his parents let him out of the house. Such little human interaction had seriously stunted his social growth.

He fiddled absently with the lines of his jeans, hands unable to stay still for even a moment. He was so used to building things. Not things like wooden things, or mechanical things. Not really. He was a self-taught self-proclaimed explosives expert. It was his parents' fault, really, for leaving him alone so often.

"Oh, right." He looked toward the noise of the others, trying to pick out the voice that matched the name and the power. "I remember him being particularly douchey."

Raven was probably only one or two steps above her, having been mostly kept away from the world for the duration of her growing up. She wouldn't claim that it was to the same extent, since at least Charles had her best interests in mind, even if he went about it sort of poorly. Whatever the matter, though, she did want to help Iggy get involved: he was one of them, and there was no reason he shouldn't be proud of what he was born with.

She wondered exactly what was up with all that fiddling, but she figured he had his reasons. She could speculate until the ends of the earth, but she didn't think it would do a whole lot of good. Not like just flat-out asking, at least.

"He can be. But he's not all bad." And why she was defending him was beyond her. But oh well. Alex as as much one of them as the rest, no matter how harsh he could be to Hank sometimes. "He's got his moments, at least."

He was sure his parents loved him. Just in the way that you love your new girlfriend's kid; because you have to. He was sure they loved him, but he was also sure they would've loved him more if he were normal.

He popped his knuckles absently. The sound was a little off, not quite the way cracking bones were supposed to sound. They were hallow, more thunks than snaps. After a moment of listening to the other's talk and train and goof off, he looked back at Raven. Or at least in her general direction; his sightless gaze was actually aimed somewhere over her shoulder. "Why are you talking to me?" It was an abrupt question, but instead of sounding rude, he sounded honestly curious.

She knew that feeling well. All it would take is one simple (or complex, whatever) modification to the genetics, and then you'd be totally normal. No blue skin, no wings, no nothing. Just a person.

Mutant and proud, though.

She didn't notice the difference in sound as he cracked his knuckles, nor did she entirely notice the way he looked over her shoulder instead of at her. Instead, all Raven did was smile, letting her appearance shift back to her natural blue hue, the girl completely unaware that he couldn't see it. He could likely hear it, though; the odd sound not unlike scales rattling against each other, perhaps. "Because I know what it's like to hide your entire life. And I wanted you to know that you don't have to any more."

He could hear it, perhaps better than anybody else ever could. The rattling, sliding sound of the scales, so out of place and unlike anything he'd heard before. He stiffened a bit, not sure what to expect, not sure what was going to happen. When nothing did happen, he frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion, and he relaxed some again.

He was still frowning, though. "What was that?" he asked, sounding somewhat apprehensive but not at all affronted or freaked out.

Raven's eyes remained on him for a moment, going a little wide. Everyone else knew exactly what happened: it was obvious. The fact that he had to ask at all meant that his wings weren't the only thing about him that was different.

"My ability; I'm a shapeshifter. Are you blind?" She asked, the question not sceptical or sarcastic, but legitimately interested. Curious, really. Probably too much, in fact, given that he hadn't been all that open about the whole flying thing.

"Yes," he said flatly. He still hadn't gotten used to people asking him about it. He never got the opportunity to learn not to be touchy about it, since he grew up solely around his parents. It annoyed him to have to explain, even though he figured it was a completely reasonable thing for people to ask about. On the other hand, she didn't sound scathing or sarcastic, so his tone wasn't sharp, just blank.

He shifted, flicking his gaze back down. "The specialist said it was probably a result of my body trying to compensate for my ability. I have wings, I can fly, so God made me blind to make up for it. Great, huh." He sounded bitter by the end of it, biting down hard on his lower lip. After a moment, he asked, calmer, quieter, "What did you shift into?"

"Huh," she remarked softly, studying him carefully. She managed to resist the urge to wave a hand in front of his face to see how completely blind he was; it didn't seem respectful, and he was already having a time of it, it seemed. "How do you not fly into things?" Raven asked next, still completely curious before going on to answer his question:

"Myself. Most of the time, I wear...a different face. A disguise, I guess. Blonde hair, blue eyes - it's a lot easier for people to deal with than what I usually look like." A beat, as she pondered how to describe how she normally looked. "I'm blue."

"I don't fly." He realized that didn't make any sense. He had wings, why wouldn't he fly? He started laughing a little, mostly at himself. He had wings and he didn't fly. What the fuck. "I mean, I have once or twice, I guess. My parents never let me, so I tried it a few times when they were out. It was in my back yard, which I know the layout of perfectly, so I didn't have a problem with it then. It only takes me once or twice to learn the layout of the place. I know exactly how to get from here back to my room without running into anything. Unless someone moves the furniture. I freaking hate it when people move the furniture. Even after having a blind son for a dozen years, my dad would forget and adjust the coffee table or the couch or the armchair, and all it takes is the tiniest adjustment to throw me off. Having to remind your own dad that he can't move shit around because you can't see it is stupid."

He quieted abruptly, realizing that he'd started rambling. He didn't know he did that. He didn't know he rambled; he never had somebody to ramble to. He tilted his head at her, forehead crinkling. He'd been blind since he was two; he didn't know what a great number of things looked like, because he couldn't remember that far back. Sometimes things would come to him in broken little images, the tiniest flashes of memories, but for the most part? He didn't even know what blue looked like. All he had was his sense of smell, touch, hearing, and taste.

"Can I touch you?" Only a moment passed before he realized how weird that sounded, and he scrambled to clarify. "I mean, your skin. Can I touch your skin? Is that rude? I just want to see what you feel like. What it, your skin, feels like, since that's really all I have to go by. I mean, I guess I could smell you or taste you but that seems even ruder than touching you. Just your arm or something?" He paused again, then said, a little quieter, "I'll let you see my wings."

Holy shit, he sounded like an idiot.

Edited 2014-06-28 01:10 (UTC)

She frowned. That definitely didn't make any sense, but she'd wait. Hear him out. And sure enough, he started in on an explanation.

"That sucks," Raven told him simply, unable to imagine if someone was that out of it that they'd forget their own son's needs. Then again, it wasn't like Charles' mother had been all that attentive. She only made that mistake once, and it had been learned quickly. All things considered, the fact that her brother was so attentive and caring was almost a shock.

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts as he moved onto explaining himself again. A small smile curved her mouth, and she scooted a little closer to him, wondering if he was aware that he was terrible at flirting. He probably did.

Raven just reached out, gently taking him by the wrist, and lifted his hand so his palm was pressed against her cheek. "It's not rude, don't worry. Smelling me is sort of weird, and I don't think we're quite at the point of tasting, but yeah, you can touch me."

'That sucks' was sort of an understatement, but Iggy didn't care to voice that. They all had their demons and tragic back stories and he wasn't about to pretend like his could be any better or worse than anybody else's. After all, he couldn't imagine it was easy being blue.

He sucked in a breath when she took his wrist. He'd heard her scooting closer, so it wasn't like he didn't know she was near him. He wasn't startled by it. He just wasn't used to it, the contact. It'd been a long time since anyone cared to touch him. He couldn't remember the last time his mother hugged him. He blinked his sightless blue eyes at her words just a second before pink tinged his cheeks. He hoped she didn't notice and simply focused on his fingers on her skin.

It felt weird. It wasn't smooth, like his skin. There were little bumps and ridges and patterns. He discovered a long time ago that he could feel a person's fingerprint. He could feel it and memorize it, like a fucking human database. He could feel all the fine fine lines and crinkles of her skin, the same way he could feel his fingerprints on his desk at home. After a moment, he brought up his other hand to touch her other cheek, fingers tracing across her temples and hair and cheekbones. And just like that, he looked downright awed, like this was the best thing he ever participated in.

"Whoa. You feel so cool."

Awkward wording, awkward wording, but despite the slight deepen of his blush, he's almost too thrilled to care.

He was pretty young - way too young for her to think about anything untoward - but he was sort of adorable, in a little brother kind of way. She wanted him to feel at home, because he was, for all intents and purposes. Charles had made a point of taking her in and giving her a proper home, and now - in lieu of him bringing Iggy into the fold properly - she was going to do it.

Raven was quiet as Iggy felt her face, looking away on principle, because staring at someone while they touched your face was a pretty weird thing to do. Weirder than what was already happening. Of course, his appreciation of her natural form was better than most people's, save perhaps Erik. But Erik was in a class all his own.

"Thanks," she replied happily, grinning at his blush; it was probably able to be felt under his hands. And hopefully he could tell the difference between a mocking grin and a genuine one.

He could feel it, the rise of her cheeks and the way her lips curve. He could feel how bright it was, how real it was, and it, accompanied by her happy tone, made him grin back in response.

Once he finished tracing the line of her nose and the edge of her jaw, he dropped his hand back to his lap, his smile finally starting to fade. It didn't fade because he was unhappy, but maybe because he was a little nervous. He hadn't shown his wings to anybody but the doctors, and that didn't really turn out what he would've considered well. After a moment, he went ahead and unzipped his jacket, abandoning it on the grass. Slowly, he pulled in a breath, rolled his shoulders, and let his wings start to expand. He didn't stretch them out all the way (he wasn't sure if he had room), but she probably got the idea; the were huge, an off-white cream color, and had he extended them fully, they would've been fourteen feet across.

She remained silent for the time being, let him finish up his exploration of her face and skin - and thus, of her mutation and how it made itself known. Her own smile faded slowly away, settling back into something a little more normal and demure. His nerves didn't go unnoticed; she was very good at noticing things about others, not least of all because she could turn herself into them at the drop of a hat.

And so she noticed the way he steeled himself as he began to let his wings out. It gave her plenty of time to scoot out of the way, making sure that he had a little bit of room to show them off. Though she very much doubted 'show them off' was the right phrase, given how nervous he seemed. It was close, at least.

"Wow," Raven breathed quietly, leaning forward a little as she reached out, almost to touch. She caught herself, looking at him first. "Can I touch them?"

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