Passions of a Violet Flame

-Chapter Four-

John walked around the Xavier Institute, his classes having ended a while ago. He sighed, wondering where Violet was, his friend had been less than socialable this week. She didn't talk, she refused to place her thoughts in during Debate and she was never around during breakfast and lunch. The month slowly drifted into October, the leaves finally turning beautiful tones of gold, red, orange and brown. He glanced out of a window as he walked by the Lounge Room, when he noticed Violet was outside, standing under a tree. The gentle winds carried the lonely leaves in a dance around the grounds of the school, swirling in a beautiful tornado of color. John enjoyed autumn, just a little under summer, but he couldn't help but notice how lonely his friend seemed, sitting under the tree, eyes closed.

He left the warmth of the Xavier Mansion and walked outside, his hoodie protecting him from the cooling temperatures as he approached his childhood friend. He sat down beside her and after a moment he noticed, every once in a while, a gust of wind would dance around them, softly playing with their hair as if invisible fingers ran through them gently.

"Is something wrong, my lovely Pyro?" Violet asked suddenly, breaking the peaceful silence around them.

John never like silences, but for some reason, he never felt awkward around Violet. He felt like all he had to do was sit there and she would understand him. Was something wrong? He wasn't too sure. He was more worried about her. She didn't seem herself lately.

"I was going to ask you that question," John replied, the girl never opening her eyes to meet his. "Ever since the memorial, you've been quiet."

She stayed silent, but John continued, "I'm sorry you're still grieving. I know how close you and Angela were. I wish I could get some sort of sign from you that will tell me you'll be ok?"

"Did you hear about the Halloween Dance the Professor decided to throw?" Violet said so suddenly, John became confused. She finally opened her silver-violet eyes and looked over at him, "I was actually thinking about what to wear?"

John should've known. Violet was crazy about her personal style, reminding John of another fashion fanatic named Jubilation Lee. Violet often crafted up the craziest styles for parties.

"Yeah, what are you going as?" John asked.

Violet grinned over at him, "You'll have to see when the time comes." She stood from her spot and sent him a wink, "If you don't mind, my dearest pyromaniac, I'm going to go for a walk around the lake. I need to clear my mind a bit."

John nodded as he stood before him and his friend turned in opposite directions. Violet sighed to herself, the wind still dancing around her. She slipped her hands in her black hoodie, pulling the warmth captured within it closer to her body.

'Violet...there's something up ahead. I feel...tears.'

Violet grew confused. No one ever came to this side of the lake, at least not since she's been here. She walked forward before she noticed a familiar brunette, the white bangs framing her face made her stand out almost instantly. Violet noticed she had been crouched to the ground, her knees pulled to her chest as her chin rested on her knees. Her tear-stained eyes stared out at the lake that reflected the dancing leaves as if it was a crystal clear mirror.

"Rogue?" Violet spoke softly, her voice passively rang through the air.

The brunette looked at her from over her shoulder before cursing to herself, wiping away the tears from her face. Rogue tried to gain composure as the ebony-haired girl sat beside her, landing in a comfortable pile of leaves. Violet laid back, her hands resting behind her head as her eyes stared at the sky.

"What's wrong?"

Rogue glanced at the cold girl, "Nothing."

"No one cries for nothing," Violet responded.

"You wouldn't understand," Rogue shot back.

Violet glanced over at the beautiful brunette with toxic skin, "Does it have to do with not having complete control over your mutation?"

Rogue nodded, which made the girl continue, "Let me guess, you can decide what you absorb, but you still can't touch without absorbing something?" After another nod, Violet sighed, "Well, how do you control what you absorb?"

"I have to concentrate. Xavier said there is a part in our brains that triggers out mutations, so I'm still trying to figure out how it works," Rogue replied.

"Can I ask what has you wanting to touch so badly?"

Rogue sighed, "Well, watching you with Marcus and I knew that I could never touch Remy the way I want to." Rogue wished Violet wouldn't think she was being stupid because of her jealousy.

Violet let out a huff that sounded like a 'hmm' but Rogue wasn't too sure. When the girl spoke, Rogue jumped, not expecting it, "Did you know there are two types of mutations? One that deals with inward powers and one deals with outside powers. Like absorbing, your touch is toxic, as you say. That is an inward power, like telepathy, telekinesis and like Piotr's shifting abilities. Outside mutations deal with powers like John's and mine. We are able to control something that isn't inside us."

"I didn't know that," Rogue said softly.

"Well, with inward powers, there's a sort of on-off switch. How else would Professor Xavier go around without hearing voices all day? Outside mutations work with concentrating on the outside force that you're able to control. Your mind works to wield it to your every whim." Violet glanced from the sky and over at the girl, "Let me guess, the Professor believed it was an outside force since you absorb other powers?"

"Yes."

"Well, on your next session talk to the Professor and see if he can set up a mediation schedule for you. When you get to the point, and you find that switch in your mind, your mind will remember where it is every time you need to use your powers," Violet replied.

"How do you know so much?"

Violet grinned, "There is a telepath at my home. The little boy who was with Corona the day we arrived. He was telling me how, before his parents died, they had taught him control so he didn't have his headaches anymore. He told me about the differences and it made sense."

Rogue stood up, "How can I ever thank you, Violet?"

Violet tilted her head to the side, a chin to her finger before she held out a hand, "Friendship works fine."

Rogue ignored the hand and hugged the girl. It was no wonder why John adored her. She let things be what they were. With a smile, Rogue ran off after promising to see Violet later. The silver-plum eyes watched as the brunette ran off toward the mansion.

'That was kind of you.'

'...I know. She...she reminded me of you.'

The wind danced around her again, 'Don't be friends with her if you want to replace me.'

'I'm not replacing you. It's just...she's so...lonely...like you were when you arrived at the orphanage.'

The wind died as Violet heard footsteps from behind her. She noticed it was Professor Logan. She nodded respectfully before she turned and walked off. She made it back to the school and silently peered into the Game Room. The entire group was there, John laughing with Piotr as the two played some fighting RPG video game. She smiled softly when she saw Rogue curled up on Remy's lap, the man's red-on-black eyes gazing in admiration at the girl in his arms. She noticed apart from the group that Kitty and Bobby were in there as well, at a foosball table on the other side of the room. She figured she might as well join them, so she Drifted to her room, grabbed her sketchbooks and Drifted in the corner of the Game Room, right behind Kitty and Bobby. The two were obviously done playing foosball as their tongues danced in a heated embrace. Violet thought she was going to be sick.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you two battle it out to see who can get their tongue the furtherest down the other's throat, I would appreciate it if you move," Violet said suddenly.

She heard the sound of teeth hitting each other as the pair jumped at the sudden voice. The broke apart and Violet moved around them, taking a seat at a table not far from John and his friends. She placed the sketch book, that had silver scripture words saying, 'A Pinch of your Brother, a teaspoon of you- with the head of your Sister would make a great stew.' down on the table, to the side of her. She opened the sketch book that had the same scripture style that read, 'In a World So Cold.'

John glanced from his friend, who began sketching, and looked over at Remy, "Come on Remy. It's time for you to play me."

Rogue calmly climbed off Remy, and with Piotr, the two walked over to Violet, who stared intently at her progression of a sketch. Rogue cracked a smirk at the title of the sketchbook she wasn't using; feeling like it was so like Violet's sarcastic wit to add a line from Stephen Lynch. She glanced over at the girl, asking if she could look in it. At the shrug, Rogue opened the book, feeling a Piotr, a fellow artist, stood behind her.

The first page was a picture of two large eyes, the irises matching the color of the artist's. The detail in the picture was so finely done that you could see the small, silver ring that surrounded the irises before being surrounded by a black ring. The eyes even depicted no emotion, just stared at you.

Rogue turned the page and gasped at the beautiful portrait before her. A ten-year-old girl stood in the pouring rain, long black hair pulled into a long ponytail, loose hairs dancing as rain pelted them. The girl stood before a gravestone, a single red rose placed on the top of the tombstone. In the sky, depicted in the clouds were a pair of amber-gold eyes, tears leaving the golden-rod eyes. The thing that caught the pair's eyes was the small amount of color used. Red- the rose. Gold- the eyes. Black- the hair. Everything else was black and white.

Rogue turned the page and gasped at the horrid picture before her. It was of Violet, the girl no different looking than she was now. In the picture, her pale skin and silver-grey tank top were splattered with blood. Streams of blood trickled down her face as if they were tears as the girl in the portrait stared at something in the air. In the air, a body hovered above her head, blood seeping from the pores of the body, trickling down on the girl below. Rogue felt like she was going to be sick.

"It's called Blood from the Unforgiving Light," Violet said.

Rogue turned the page and fell silent. It was of Violet again, but this time, in her arms was Angela. The beautiful blonde was dressed in a white summer dress, the white outfit tainted by the blood. Violet's eyes, in the picture, were silver and glaring up at something that wasn't shown in the picture. Silver? Rogue glanced up to see Violet's silver-plum eyes focused on whatever she was drawing.

Rogue noticed the rest of the pages were blank and sighed, setting the book down and open, the last page showing, "All of my other pieces are in the room Corona showed us."

Rogue nodded and stared at Piotr, who gazed at Violet with respect. Violet suddenly ripped the picture out of her sketchbook before handing it to Rogue. Rogue peered down at her hands, Piotr looking over her shoulder, and the two gasped.

In the picture, Rogue sat with her knees drawn to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. Rogue felt guilty when she noticed the somber look on her own face in the picture, the tears shown with a glinting of light. Leaves of red and gold seemed to tangle in her brown hair, her jeans were darkened with mud and around her leaves continued to dance. Rogue felt tears poking at her eyes when she noticed the faint outlining of a hand that the leaves created. At the bottom corner, where the lake met the side of the paper, words were written in the water, "An Untouchable girl who has Touched the soul of so many."

"It's beautiful," Rogue heard Piotr whisper from behind her.

John and Remy moved to see what the big deal was. John's eyes looked down at the picture of Violet and Angela when he noticed something no one else noticed. There, in the shadows, the faint outline of black wings displayed from her back. John shook his head before gazing over at the picture of Rogue. He smiled at his friend's personal way of cheering people up.

The group then began talking about the upcoming dance, everyone curious as to what Violet was going to go as. She just wouldn't tell anybody. As the night drew closer, the group headed up to bed, John and Violet parting from the group as they made their way to their room. John couldn't help but grin at his friend, who was oblivious. John didn't realize how much he envied Marcus for having Violet. John couldn't tell himself how many times he wished he was in Marcus's place, the love of a friend wasn't enough. Nothing stopped his heart from pounding every time she smiled, which was rare, because she normally smirked.

He followed her into their room, the girl immediately stripping herself of her hoodie, the shirt going with it. John couldn't help as he gazed at his friend's back, her creamy-white skin flawless except for two narrow scars covering her shoulder blades. He didn't comment as she bent down to pull off her pants, her creamy-white legs seemed never ending as the black boy-shorts panties and matching bra set seemed to contrast off her skin. He fought hard to keep the blood in his brain flowing south. This always happened when she changed in front of him. He sometimes felt that she was too comfortable with her skin.

She was soon dressed in black tank top and her boy-shorts. She washed off her make-up before collapsing on her bed. John turned and went to the bathroom, taking a nice cold shower. He shouldn't be thinking about this. She was getting married to his friend. She was his best friend for fuck's sake. She was his best friend with...a gorgeous body. John felt his blood travel south and wished the water could get colder than it was.

Thirty minutes later, John re-entered the room hearing to soft breathing of Violet and fell back on his bed. He glanced one more time before drifting off to sleep.