It was a little after nightfall and Skydancer was slowly making her way back to The Mansion. It had been an especially difficult afternoon of training as she tried to pick up a new skill for use in her soon to be debut at the circus. Her skin, amazing as it was, might not have shown any of the numerous bruises that would have shown up on the skin of any normal person, but just underneath every one of her muscles ached abominably and she couldn't count the number of times she had fallen and crashed to the ground. Everyone agreed, however, that it was all part of the process of getting good and it was just something she had to accept.

The rooftop trip from the circus training facility back to the Mansion was something Skydancer made regularly and had become second nature. Tonight, however, she just didn't have the energy for her usual breakneck adventure home. Thus, instead of choosing a novel path back and following it as quickly as possible, she chose to take a much slower pace. Her muscles were simply protesting far too much for any other option.

A purple tube shot out and wrapped itself around the bar of a balcony in the building across from Skydancer. She leaped and allowed her momentum to work with the strength of the tube in order to make it possible for her to swing onto the balcony. Normally she would have been off to the next building a mere moment later, but tonight all she wanted to do was rest. Deciding that, so many feet above the ground, there really wasn't that much of a risk of people interrupting her, she sat down on the balcony, tubes splayed out around her. She would only rest a moment before continuing, honest.

Persi’s parents were incredibly stupid. All the time, but sometimes they were even stupider than normal, mostly by virtue of talking more than normal. Today, for instance, they’d decided to wake up, and wake everyone else up, and start talking, instead of either letting everyone sleep or, if they had to inflict their insane lifestyle on everyone else, at least being intelligent to shut up until noon, when Persi might have had the patience to put up with them.

Instead, of course, they’d woken Persi and Irri (and Ace, but Persi wasn’t bothered by that) up at six thirty AM, insisting that they get up and say goodbye to dad before he went to work and talk about what they were going to do that day and stay up until mom left for work too. Because there was such a point to all that. Neither had known, of course, so Persi had been forced to tell them so, and suck up Ace had started preaching about how being polite doesn’t have to have a point, and blah blah blah, and their parents had agreed, and since pretending Ace was right meant pretending Persi was wrong, they had to get mad at Persi.

There was no actual reason to be mad, though, so of course Persi hadn’t done anything as stupid as waste the day on summer reading assignments. He could always do those later once he’d gotten sick of the heat, anyway. But Ace was still a suck up, and a spy, and told their parents that he hadn’t seen Persi reading--because, of course, he hadn’t, because there was no reason for Persi to read. So they punished Persi--again--by having him stay at home instead of go to the church game night.

Stupid.

So Persi was at home, stretched out on the couch across from the balcony, flipping through TV channels and sketching idly when something landed on the balcony.

...A very large something. And, in fact, a human-shaped something. Persi blinked, stood up, wondered over and slid open the door to the deck, letting light stream out and cast dramatic shadows over everything.

Including a mutant. With… tentacles, or something, and purple skin. That was new. And also really dangerous, though it’d be at least fifteen minutes before Persi’s family got home.

Still. “It’s kind of dangerous for you to be here.”

...Kind of, in the sense of his dad kind of had a gun.

Sometimes there was nothing more wonderful than being able to sit down and relax. So what if said relaxing was dozens of feet above ground on some random balcony, that didn't change any of the relevant facts. The facts were, Skydancer was tired and didn't feel like being on her feet anymore. Of course, things would be even better if she also had a chair up there with her and some way to levitate said comfortable chair back to the Mansion without any physical effort at all, but one couldn't expect miracles.

“It’s kind of dangerous for you to be here.”

Skydancer jumped and may or may not have let out an 'eep' depending on how willing she was to admit to such a sound coming out of her mouth. Clearly, in her exhaustion, she wasn't paying nearly as much attention as she should have been and, if she wasn't careful, that kind of inattention could end up with her getting seriously hurt or worse. Even if, for all intents and purposes, no one should be able to get up there with her.

Skydancer jumped back up to her feet and spun around to face the voice, tubes wrapped protectively around her. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was home." That sure did sound stupid now that she said it out loud. Why had she thought it was a good idea to just park on someone's porch again? "I just needed some place to sit down for a few minutes." Didn't make it sound any better, but at least it had the advantage of being true.

The… woman? Persi thought she was a woman, anyway, looked… weird. Purple, and with tentacles, or whatever they were, and… just weird. He could kind of see why mutants freaked his parents out, sometimes, some of them just looked freaky. They didn’t all act freaky, though, and Persi was a better person than his parents and a better person than Ace, so he only stared for a moment--and only because the light was making too many shadows to see well--before stepping out and mostly closing the door behind him to keep out bugs.

He shrugged. “A few minutes’s okay. My parents won’t be home for a bit.”

The TV flashed in the background, left on some cable news channel that droned on about the tragedies and crimes and horror of the world.

By now Skydancer was used to people staring at her. How could she not be, when she had rather obviously purple skin? Sure, it was possible to hide her skin with excessive application of makeup, but usually she didn't even bother. Finally, after many months of fighting it, she was starting to come to an acceptance of the way she was, purple skin and all so unless there was some exceptional circumstance, it just wasn't worth it to hide it.

"Sorry for choosing your balcony to rest on," Skydancer replied. At least the guy didn't seem too mad at her nor did he seem to care too much about the whole mutant thing, aside from a bit of curious staring, that is. She took that as a very good sign.

"I guess you probably don't get too many mutants camping out on your balcony, do you?" Skydancer asked with a light laugh. "I'm Skydancer, by the way." She may as well be polite and make the best of a somewhat weird and awkward situation.

“Not really. S’cool, though.” Persi tilted his head, considering the woman without paying much attention to her introduction, though answering was automatic. “I’m Blake.”

And he was also, really, not the most polite person ever, but then, he thought being polite was kind of stupid, anyway; most of the time it was just lying, and lying wasn’t helpful. If you didn’t tell someone you didn’t like them, how could they fix what you didn’t like about them? Bluntness, then, was a common habit for Persi, and anyway, it wasn’t like he’d see her again anyway.

“You’d make an awesome battle angel. Can I draw you?”

"Nice to meet you Blake," Skydancer replied. It still felt a little strange to her when non-mutants reacted positively to her. Maybe she had just become jaded since her skin turned purple, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that she had previously been hunted by angry mobs, kidnapped and otherwise had more than one person attempt to kill her for being a mutant. Then again, who was to say that he wasn't a mutant and just hid it better than her?

"Battle angel?" Skydancer blinked at the guy, feeling a little confused. She thought vaguely that it might have something to do with the phenomenon of anime, although that wasn't something she ever had the chance to learn about. Then again, there were many things she never had the chance to learn about or experience for herself.

"Sure, if you want to draw me, how can I say no to that?" It was a bit of an odd request, sure, but also kind of flattering in its own way. "I don't think anyone's ever offered to draw me before. Or called me a battle angel, for that matter. Or an angel anything else."

Persi grinned. She might not have been complimenting his drawing skills yet, but she was happy to have someone draw her; that guaranteed she would soon. “Be right back!” He spun, his hair momentarily flaring in a circle around him (like a skirt, almost, but he’d punch anyone who said so), and didn’t bother to close the door behind him as he ran inside.

A moment later he returned with a box of pastels, skidded past the couch and had to backtrack a step to grab his sketchbook, tucking the pastels under his arm and flipping the sketchbook to a new page as he walked the last few steps to the door. “Back.”

Persi eyed Skydancer again, then edged over to the opposite side of the doors, slid the pastel box open, selected a decent shade of purple and began sketching.

He had an interesting look about him, Skydancer decided. Perhaps it was the bright and rather unique hair that did it. Maybe it was something to consider, the next time she decided to switch up her own wig. That was one of the advantages of wearing a wig; one could change one's hairstyle as often and as radically as one desired.

Skydancer waited patiently for Blake to return. He was, she was pretty sure, a bit younger than she was though probably not all that much younger. "So, uh, do you need me to pose or anything," she asked upon his return. She had some familiarity with posing for a camera, due to her past Olympic aspiration and her current circus aspirations, but this was a whole other thing entirely.

Skydancer watched curiously as Blake began to sketch her. This was a new experience and, unexpected or not, she intended to make the best of it. Maybe this was the type of attention she'd have to get used to, with the whole joining the circus thing still in the works. Still, it wasn't really so bad and certainly a lot better than the usual murderous attention she all too often tended to attract.

“Nope,” Persi muttered without looking up. “Posing people looks fake.” It took minutes to fill a page with small studies, letting the purple pastel and a charcoal crayon indicate shapes, shadows and movement that wasn’t but could be. A second page was half filled with similar ten-second miniatures, and a larger, more detailed sketch of her face on the other half of the paper before Persi was satisfied, and flipped to a third blank page to begin an actual drawing.

The drawing, too, was less than realistic, letting the purple and charcoal contrast to outline shapes and mood; tension, drama, power, and will. The lighting really helped with that; Persi didn’t have to adapt anything, really, to get the effect he wanted, and only had to dive for the box of pastels for one lighter purple pastel for highlights at the end before showing it to Skydancer.

Not posing was definitely better than posting and looking like an idiot and something told Skydancer that an attempt would pose would definately end with her looking like an idiot. It was one thing to perform in front of an audience, another to perform to an audience and another thing again to pose for a picture. The first she had done in plenty, the second she was learning to do and the third, well, that was new territory entirely.

"Do you often get to draw strange mutants," Skydancer asked, both because she was genuinely curious and to avoid awkward silence. "I can't imagine too many would randomly decide to park out on your porch." She grinned over at him, not afraid of a little self deprecating humour.

Watching as her portrait slowly started to take place, Skydancer had to admit she was rather impressed. Her own busy life had never left her time for learning art, but it was something she had always had some admiration for. "You're pretty good."

“Not really.” Persi’s response was less than attentive, but that was because he was working. No one could fault him for not being totally attentive when answering the person he was drawing. “Parents don’t like mutants. Neither does my brother. Me’n Irri are alright, though.” The drawing was taking shape, developing detail from the broad shapes he’d first established.

Persi looked up and beamed at the compliment. “Thanks!” He… actually had no idea how to respond other than that, so after a second he glanced back down. The darkness would probably hide his blush. “I’ve been practicing for a long time. Still not as good as I want to be, but I’m getting better.” The drawing was almost done. Not the detailed image he could have produced with proper light, and time, but sort of better for that. Art was about emotions, originally; skills and techniques were just ways to make the emotion show up better. And as useful as those techniques were, it was good to not bother with them and just create sometimes.

The drawing finished, Persi held it slightly farther away, studying it for a moment, then returned his pastels to their box, carefully wiped his hands (relatively) clean on his pants, and tore the page out, offering it to Skydancer. “You can keep it. If you’d like.”

Skydancer knew all about the need for concentration when dealing in one's personal art of choice. Some might have argued that neither gymnastics nor acrobatics was proper art, but she disagreed entirely. If the nature of the project and the medium was different, it was still art. When she was performing, it was her body that was the paint and the rings and bars that were the paper. She also knew what it was like to constantly strive to be better.

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents." Skydancer found it unfortunate just how many mutants had to grow up in such families. Maybe it wasn't so bad if one didn't turn out to be a mutant themselves, but it nevertheless sucked. She hadn't appreciated just how fortunate she had been to have mutant friendly parents growing up until she had discovered that she was a mutant and actually been forced into the world. It was a disturbingly common thing, from what she could tell.

Amber allowed the boy to complete the rest of the drawing in silence, watching was the image slowly manifested itself on the page. It was a good talent to have. "Are you sure you're willing to give your work up? I do like it a lot though." Some artists were a bit strange about hanging onto their work, from what she had learned.

Blake choked at Skydancer’s comment, looking up with wide eyes and an expression somewhere between shocked and scared, before ducking his head back down to stare at the drawing. It took a few seconds for his hands to stop shaking so he could draw again. How did you know? I didn’t say anything, I know I didn’t. Gaydar seems too stupid not to be a myth, what if it’s real, what if mutant-dar exists too? What if someone says something when my parents are around? How did you know?

The thought of Blake’s parents finding out was… terrifying. Never mind that he couldn’t do anything scary, or even potentially scary, or even anything that normal people couldn’t do, they couldn’t tolerate it. Wouldn’t want to, anyway. Probably shouldn’t; Blake had heard of mutations changing before; who knew what his or Irri’s could turn into. Who knew when they’d lose their minds and try to kill someone, or just lost control so it didn’t matter whether they wanted to hurt anyone or not? (How did you know?)

Okay, fine. Blake would just have to… figure something out. Get it under better control. Or maybe just never, ever use it, and it would go away. (He could still be a tolerant person without wanting to actually be one of the ones he tolerated, right? He was pretty sure he could….) Maybe both. Control it into nonexistence, and… and keep it secret in the meantime. Somehow. He’d figure it out. (How did you know?)

Later, though. Right now, he had to get the drawing done and Skydancer away from there before his family got home. That was easier. He could do that. Pretty easily, too, really. The drawing had almost been done already when she’d… surprised him, it only took a few minutes to finish it completely.

Blake nodded, managing a decent smile at the compliment. “Yeah. I’ve got the sketches to work from, and Irri’d be able to tell the drawing’s of someone instead of made up. Dunno if anyone else could or not, so.” He shrugged. “You should keep it. It’ll be safer.”

Blake meant the drawing. Or he told himself he did, anyway.