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[personal profile] againsttheworld


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Date: 2014-06-13 08:39 pm (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (fly ☢ 'cause you've given me)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
It was when he spent the first fourteen years of his life with nobody but his parents. His social skills were lacking, to say the least.

"Because I don't--" Because he didn't like showing them to people, his parents hadn't liked him showing them to people. As far as his parents were concerned, everything was much better if he just kept them hidden all the time, even around the house. He'd long gotten used to the ache of his back and shoulders and wings from keeping them drawn so close all the time. He knew about his DNA, about what the specialists and the doctors had said about his bones and lungs. He knew his wings were capable of lifting him, because he'd tried it in the back yard a few times when his parents were out. He kept his head ducked, his hands stilling on the ground, frowning again. Quieter, he continued, "Because I guess nobody ever told me I should."

Date: 2014-06-13 09:22 pm (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (listening ☢ as i'm wonderin what i'll do)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
He knew he had no reason not to believe her. As a matter of fact, he had every reason to believe her. He knew that everyone there was special like him, and Charles (and now Raven) had told him that it was okay, he was okay, he was among friends. Or sort-of friends, anyway.

He drew his hands into his lap, brushing blades of grass off on his pants. He relaxed, just a little bit, letting his wings expand the tiniest bit. The fringe of them, off-white and sleek, peeked out from the bottom of his jacket, maybe giving Raven a better idea of just how big they'd be if they were expanded completely.

"Which one's Alex?" He looked up as he spoke, eyebrows raised in Raven's general direction. He hadn't payed that much attention to everybody else during introductions. He knew a collection of names and a collection of powers, but he couldn't remember what went to who.

Date: 2014-06-18 12:42 am (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (innocent ☢ i'm down to my last dollar)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
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."

Date: 2014-06-19 01:28 am (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (serious ☢ cause if i've got nothing)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
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.

Date: 2014-06-20 03:26 pm (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (listening ☢ as i'm wonderin what i'll do)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
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.

Date: 2014-06-26 01:46 am (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (angry ☢ i don't have to worry)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
"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?"

Date: 2014-06-28 01:07 am (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (fly ☢ 'cause you've given me)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
"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 Date: 2014-06-28 01:10 am (UTC)

Date: 2014-07-15 06:39 am (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (ooh ☢ of the hell that i've been through)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
'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.

Date: 2014-08-09 01:56 am (UTC)
stopmovingthefurniture: (grin ☢ i've got nothing to hold me back)
From: [personal profile] stopmovingthefurniture
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.

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Raven Darkholme | Mystique

August 2014

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