A Perfect Palette
He could almost pinpoint the exact moment it started. Over the rush of waves against the shore or the rustle of the breeze through palms, his thoughts audibly clicked into place in his head, one by one, drowning out all other sound.
The horrified blonde girl at the government compound. The Shaw-but-not-Shaw that distracted him from a kill. She was there now. But not as he knew her before. Now she wore a skin so blue Azazel thought that the night sky had fallen and taken fleshy form. And what a blue! Deep and inky like midnight on the open ocean. The sunlight reflecting off of her textured skin twinkling the light like stars. God help him, that red hair and those golden eyes. He'd never seen another of his kind, a mutant, so rich with color. He wondered what magic those three colors could create, that perfect palette, mixing and swirling.
The one Emma had called Lehnsherr stood now, pontificating in the sand, extolling the virtues of mutantcy over that of humanity. True enough, Azazel admitted, that he would never be welcomed at the table of Man, nor did he ever wish to be. Unless….
He watched her limp toward the one who controlled metal but an unseen line drew her to the man on the ground. The pacifist. Would she stay and fight to live alongside those that would fear her beauty? He willed her up, to stand with Lehnsherr. Azazel had made his choice when Shaw's body had been dropped to the sand. Really, what choice did he have? He wasn't made for the human world. But for a fraction of time he had considered a change. A change that would have him following that indigo form wherever she might go. But the telepath kissed her hand and she stood. Had they been lovers? Something else, perhaps.
She took a place beside Lehnsherr as he glanced to Azazel and what remained of Shaw's own brotherhood of fighters. A knowing look between the three and they walked over to form their own line in the sand, as it were, taking hands with one another.
Azazel looked down the row and caught Lehnsherr's eye who gave a simple nod, but it was just beyond there that Azazel's attention was drawn. Individually and all together, he felt the group as he pulled them away from the beach, slowly at first then snapping like a slingshot, to someplace else. At the end, he felt her. In the heartbeat space of the in-between, Azazel saw her through the smoky, burning haze and smiled to himself. Silently he thrilled at the colors they would make.
AN: I had no intention of writing this but PragmaticHominid's fic "Devil" inspired me...just a bit. You should go read that. Then fave it. Put it on your alerts. And leave a review. It's freaking fantastic! BTW, if you liked this, a review wouldn't be such a bad thing.