“Don’t,” she said, stalking towards him. Watching the illusion falter, the pale, human-like visage stutter over the jewel-blue truth beneath it. “Don’t,” she said, her own form flickering, human to mutant and back again, fluid and pointed, and settling, in the end, on her own. On her base, true form, cobalt blue and fiercely, defiantly proud of it.
“Don’t?” he asked, a vicious sneer fixed on his (yet blue) lips, turning to her. God, prince, villain. Monster. Child. “Don’t what? Cover up my nakedness?”
She smiled. Thin and fierce, a sultry curl. “That either,” she agreed, lifting a hand, caressing the air over the jaw that flinched back from her. “Don’t hide,” she explained, low and savage. “Let me see. Let them see.”
All those stunned, desperate mortals around them, those helpless, mocking faces. Let them see.
He blinked at her, mouth fixed in a snarl, those red eyes hot and desperate in that icy, deep-toned face.
“Let them see the monster, you mean,” he hissed, low and vicious, his body shaking with it, with his hate, his rage, his pain. “The thing parents whisper to their children. Let them see what monster walks among them?”
And Raven, Mystique, nodded. Smiled, thin and hard and fierce, as she curled her arms around him, twined herself about him, into the aching, bone-deep chill of his skin and the molten, desperate pressure of his gaze. She pressed her blue hand to his blue cheek, her thumb dark and rough over the pale arch of his cheekbone.
“Yes,” she growled, low and rough. “Let them see the monster. If that’s what they see, then let them have it.” A grin, dark and devouring, feeling the eyes crawling at her back, feeling the hate, the fear, the blind rejection. Defying it, with everything she had in her. “Be the most beautiful, the most terrible monster they’ve ever seen. Show them, how little their fear means to us. When we are … as beautiful as we are.”
She had been afraid. For so many years, she had been afraid. Not now. No more. Not for them. Not ever again.
And he smiled, against her. Leaned close, wrapping his own arms around her, blue on blue, armour shielding her nakedness. Dark god, and raging, fragile man. His lips brushed hers, and he whispered. “Blue is beautiful, hmm?”
She laughed, and crushed her lips to his. Laughed, and crushed him close, drank him down like ice, and electricity, and all the power in the world.
“Always,” she murmured, deep and dark and jewel-toned, feeling her strength humming through her, and his behind it. “Always.”
Deep and dark, and too rich for all the world to touch.