Oh wow, thanks so much to the wonderful few who reviewed, especially those who gave me ideas for more. This was inspired by phoenixqueen, who suggest a drabble about "why Raven chose her blonde haired form when she's out in public". Hopefully there will be many more drabbles to come; bear with me, as I said, I'm a horrible procrastinator when it comes to fic-writing!
Marvel and Fox owns; I'm just borrowing the toys. I'll try to have them back before curfew.
"First off, we need a plan of action," Charles declares as he plants his hands firmly on the kitchen table, looking for all the world like a miniature general, preparing his latest strategy. Raven stares at him, yellow eyes wide, from the other side of the table. She clutches an enormous sandwich, made of anything and everything she could find it the cupboards, holding onto it like she's afraid it will disappear if she lets it go. The little girl is quite obviously still hungry, but has paused halfway through eating to devote her full attention to Charles. And his heart breaks for her.
"In order for you to stay here, my parents have to agree," he continues. "You'll need some sort of disguise. How long can you stay... changed?" Raven swallows.
"It varies," she answers shyly. "But I can usually stay like that for as long as I need to."
"Good," Charles smiles at her, pleased. "In that case, you'll need to pick a form that..." he hesitates, unsure of what to say. 'Normal' seems both too accurate and too cruel a word to use, but he can't think of anything better. Luckily for him, Raven beats him to it.
"Something that looks normal?" she supplies helpfully, any hurt masked. He nods.
"Yes, something like that. What would you like to pick? You wouldn't be able to change it once my parents see; it'll make them suspicious."
Raven thinks for a moment, pondering all the different faces she's ever seen, all the different faces she could choose. She could be old, or younger, white or negro, even a boy. Looking around the kitchen, Raven spots the picture on the refrigerator, the one of Charles' mother; the picture that got her into all this. She doesn't quite know what to make of the woman. She appears quite beautiful, though the black-and-white photograph fails to do her justice; there is, however, a certain hardness to her, from the sharp angles of her cheek bones to a glint in her eyes. This is the woman who, by tomorrow morning, is to be her mother. And Raven doesn't even know her name.
What Raven does know, is that she'll have to work hard to make this woman like her; the first step to that, is picking a form. An idea comes to her, and she concentrates on the woman's face, holding it in her mind. She analyzes, then begins to change it; the jaw softens, the crows feet wipe away, the blonde hair becomes young and shiny again. A familiar itchiness comes over her, as every cell in her body does her bidding, and changes to match the image in her mind. By the time she finishes, the strange little blue child is gone, and a blonde, rosy-cheeked girl sits in her place.
Charles watches the transformation, astonished. Despite having seen it once before, he is enthralled, and doubts he will ever become entirely used to his new friend- new sister's- abilities. That's fine by him; she's much to extraordinary to become accustomed with.
"How do I look?" Raven asks, shifting awkwardly.
"Fantastic!" Charles replies, quite honestly. In fact, she looks remarkably like his mother might have looked as a child. And that's good, isn't it? Maybe Sharon Xavier will be more likely to accept Raven as her daughter if she looks like her.
Maybe.
The two children smile happily, giggling as Raven devours her mess of a sandwich, dribbling chocolate sauce and pickles on the table. Things will be better now, Charles promises; she'll have a roof over her head, she'll never go hungry again, and she'll finally have a mother who'll love her like a mother should.
Morning rolls around, proving Charles wrong about one of the three.