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[againsttheworld]

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[dismissed]

[ once upon a time, erik ruptured a family — left one on a beach with a bullet wound, and took the other by the hand. there are moments, split seconds in time, when regret creeps into his muscles, tensing them until he clenches his jaw to dispel it. erik has never pretended to be anything other than the monster shaw made him; it was charles ( and raven soon after ) who draped the wolf in sheep's clothing.

he doesn't hold charles responsible for this, just simply labels him an idealist — something that causes the corners of his lips to tug downwards whenever he thinks of it. charles wants to see the good in everyone, taught raven to do so, too. erik only knows what evils men are capable of, only accepts that homo sapiens will mutilate and destroy what they don't understand.

the time he spent with raven ( a time in which humanity became increasingly aware and agitated with their presence ) is time erik wouldn't have spent anywhere else. he's not given to sappiness, or even the sporadic croon of affection. erik's careful adoration lies in actions, instead. charles teaches her tolerance and gentleness — erik offers her that safety, freedom, and maybe more importantly the will to push for more than just "tolerance".

( but they still part and it's inevitable. erik isn't capable of giving her what she wants, something that's understood on both ends. funny, then, that he still mourns her absence in his own way. ) ]

An understatement. [ but there's a cant of his head, gaze heavy as he takes her in, looks at her as though he's trying to tally the differences. she's grown more into herself, more confident. his lips quirk, just a little. ] You look well, Mystique.

[ not raven. ]

[againsttheworld]

[ in some ways, she's happy to hear him referring to her not by her name, the one she owned years back, back when she was an innocent, a child, a little girl still in Charles' care; in others, it reminds her of that sharp split of identities she feels when she really thinks about it. It's fairly fitting for her life, she thinks: she's always been made of dualities, right from the beginning. One face, natural but cringeworthy to most; the other, a mask, a facade, a disguise that's considerably more acceptable. She's never quite known which was Raven and which was Mystique, but neither does she want to let go of either. Not really.

[ she doesn't think of Erik as a monster, not really. She can see where he's coming from, she can see why he makes the decisions that he does. They're two peas in a pod, and it's why they're drawn together and it's why they're forced apart, she thinks. But she's not a mind-reader, and she can only speculate; only Erik knows for sure.

[ there's still a girlish flip in her chest at the way her name sounds on his lips, though she does her best to ignore it. They're not in public, not really - she feels free to have abandoned the disguise for now, a smile curving her lips in response to the way his quirk. ]

Right back at you. I guess not even prison life could chew you up and spit you out. You're a lot more resilient than that.

[ a compliment. There's something in her eyes that's almost reverential, but not quite - respect, that much is for certain. She's always respected him. ]