Amelanosis (Sascha)

[axelle rosa]

Crystalline dew drops covered every plant in sight. Every blade of grass, every tree, every flower, shone with the brilliance of colored diamonds. The sight was breathtaking, one that any artist would find themselves at home in.

Axelle, too, was blown away by the sight before her. Even with the students trampling over the grass on their way around, the courtyard still managed to be stunning. Sitting down in a rare bit of shade, the French girl was leaning over a sketch pad, a pencil moving across the paper like a ballet dancer across the stage. She bit sharply down on her lip, studying her sketch of the scenery around her. Faintly, she could hear other students asking about her: who she was, what she could do. It would be concerning for any other person, but Axelle was used to it.

The reason was melanin.

Melanin was the pigment found within the cells of animals, responsible for the coloration of skin and hair. As an albino, her body make very little melanin, making her monochrome in a world of rainbows. She had never met another like her, the gene responsible being incredibly rare. But of course, another rare gene was found within her body as well: the one that allowed her the power of chlorokinesis, the mutant gene.

<<I'm strange. I've always known that, though,>> Axelle thought, returning to her sketch. Something was missing from it, something she needed for the sketch to be ready for shading and inking. Someone, perhaps? Axelle pondered that for a moment.

While some mutants, like Gambit and the Lapin, looked mostly human, many others did not, such as the Goron-looking one who introduced himself as Santo. Who could possibly fit in her sketch, completing it's first stage? As it was, the page, although filled, seemed empty.

Axelle looked into the crowd of students, searching for someone different enough to work.

[SASCHA DESRAKAHL]

Jean Grey was an impressive school, no matter who you were. The students too, were as unique and different as the school itself.

‘I’m one of them,’ Sascha reminded himself as he walked along side a sturdy wall. Lambent mutants walked throughout the courtyard, interacting normally and without much thought to others. The colors that concealed them glimmered back at him, shining with the radiance of their emotion. The myriad information that he received from his now overwhelming nose alone made him reel, and the surrealistic sight of iridescent people still bewildered him.

A particularly violent shade of orange walked near by with a sharp scent that could have perhaps resembled something floral if not for the acrid, cloying smell of cheap perfume. The girl’s voice sounded unnaturally high, as though she were on edge, and he scowled slightly as she flounced passed him. Not the first to avert him, he paused for only a second before continuing along the wall, fingers trailing on the rough texture. Occasionally he thought he perceived a head turn back to face him in a double take, but while in the shade of the wall he went largely unnoticed. Watching the flux of colors around him while scents – some pleasant, some alarming – assaulted his senses, he peregrinated carefully towards the boys dormitories.

He quickly reminded himself why he was here as another particularly offensive aroma coasted by. The dog that he had found by his old apartment drifted through his head, along with the life-changing experience afterwards. An echo of pain flickered briefly at the base of his horns as if to remind him they were there. It wasn’t as though he would forget any time soon. While they didn’t stick out quite as much in a crowd of mutants, some of whom sported growths themselves, they were the sole factor of him leaving home so promptly and without hesitance.

But the bone like protrusions from his otherwise human skeleton were not the reason he had been invited to attend the school for ‘higher learning’. No, the plethora of scents now invading his world and the colors that danced only for his eyes were what he was there for. They said it could be possible for them to make sense to him, that he could eventually read and interpret the new information now available, instead of simply being baffled by everything. Something inside of him needed that, to not be any more disadvantaged than the rest of the world than he had to be, and with that motivating him, he chose to abide within the school without feelings of regret prevailing his mind.

[axelle rosa]

Pale eyes slid over the crowd, bored with what they took in. Axelle sighed, looking back down at the sketch. What was missing? What was making the sketch so dull to look at? She looked back up, searching for some sort of inspiration. She found it, in the form of horns.

The horns belonged to a young man, no older than her. His white hair was spiked in all directions; his horns jutted out from his forehead and shoulders. She wasn't close enough to see his features, but she was close enough to see something far more important: he was like her. Not just a mutant, but an albino. It was the only thing that fit his bone white skin and snowy hair.

"Who would have thought?" Axelle thought, excitement bubbling up within her. She had never met someone who shared that gene before; how different were they? She wasn't foolish enough to believe that they'd be the same person in different bodies, but the chance to share in something so basic? That was what she had always wanted. "Besides," she figured, standing up. "I bet he's all sorts of smoking."

Clutching her pad and pencil to her chest, the French chlorokinetic bounded over to the horned albino, a slow smile working its way onto her face. With her eyes locked on the boy, who was running his hands against the wall, perhaps due to blindness, she didn't realize that she was going to walk straight into someone. Her shoulder bumped another girl's, causing the girl to whip towards her, an arm snaking out to grip Axelle's upper arm.

"Watch where you're going." The girl's voice was pitched high, reminding Axelle of an American woman her friends had often made fun of. Kim something, she believed.

"Mimi," Axelle began, using the French word for *$&cat. The girl was attractive, if one were into the Barbie doll look, but far from the French girl's type. "Get off."

Axelle didn't hear a response, if there had been one, for the next thing she knew, the girl was throwing wild punches. The French mutant dropped her pad and pencil, bringing her arms in front of her to block the hits as they came. In her mind, Axelle could practically hear her brother's voice, informing her which block would work and which wouldn't. It was reassuring, to say the least, that her memory of Saul hadn't dimmed with his passing. Instead, she could remember every moment with him far more clearly than before. She let herself smile, lost in the thought, only to be knocked off her feet, landing on the dew covered ground. She looked up at her attacker, frowning as she thought, "I never was good for a fight."

[SASCHA DESRAKAHL]

Sascha's mind was refocused onto his surroundings when he heard a commotion behind him. A couple girls seemed to have a conflict, as one was a bright red-orange, the other a yellow quickly fading to an amber gold. The darker of the two colors reprimanded the other, and he recognized the voice as the girl with the particularly strong perfume smell who passed him not a minute ago. She sounded rather on edge, and by the color of the other, neither of them seemed about to back down from their defiant hues. He was proven right as the now golden girl retorted with a little bit of an attitude.

Several more people had stopped, most likely to watch the interaction as the girl with the perfume attacked the other, letting go of the arm she had a hold on in order to punch angrily at the newcomer. He thought he perceived something drop as the girl tried to defend herself, raising her arms to meet the hits. After a few moments, she seemed to become distracted for a split second, allowing the repugnant girl to slip through her defenses and knock her down. The whole confrontation took no longer than half a minute, but in his old school, the fight would have been broken up already. However, the two of them still outshone the other students, bright figures of aggressive colors disrupting the sea of mediocre hues - most of which had stopped and were probably watching the conflict with interest.

The attacker seemed ready to charge again, so Sascha looked around for a more authoritative figure. When one didn't seem to be coming from either direction, Sascha focused again on the squabbling girls. While on one hand, he wasn't the best man for the job, on the other if they didn't stop soon then there could be a bit of damage the school nurse would have to see to. None of the other students seemed to be concerned, though, as the standing girl advanced on the other.

With a dark thought sent to the people who were entertained by watching such a slanted fight, Sascha stepped forward. He felt the comfort of the solid wall slip away and the sun warm his skin as he approached the pair. He could feel people look at him in surprise as he passed them, but diligently ignored them. They weren't any bit his concern.

The perfume girl appeared to have a hold of the other and was about to club her again when Sascha reached the pair. Acting solely on instinct, he lunged towards the vibrant figure and grabbed a hold of her, a hand on each of her upper arms. With a jerk, he pulled her punch back, eyes glaring. She released the other girl with a curse and in the same motion turned around and made to punch him in the face. Getting into her space was easy, and he stepped close as he let go of her arm to send an open handed strike to her driving shoulder, stopping her punch. Acting quickly, he stepped between her and the other girl, shoving her away at the same time. "Chill out," he commanded taking an undaunted stance as he faced the girl. He doubted she had any training, and was just a rather volatile individual.

It seemed as though she relaxed, her aura lessening and her weight shifting back to a more neutral position. "Freaks!" She called, spitting at the ground before turning with a huff and stomping off. Sascha stood and let himself relax and compose himself for a moment before turning around to inspect the other girl. "You alright?" He asked, offering a hand to the undefined blob of color.

[axelle rosa]

Axelle was really starting to hate America. Everyone was on edge, ready to attack at any given moment. Everything back home was much calmer. Ironic, as there was a new strike every week in Paris, but true nonetheless. She didn't understand how people could be so angry, so rude all the time. Supposing that it was simply a crude stereotype, it seemed to be proving quite true in this case.

She groaned as the girl sneered at her, mentally preparing herself for the next round of attacks. The girl launched at her, gripping Axelle's shirt, and raised a fist to hit her. Axelle closed her eyes, waiting for the punch.

It never came. Pale eyes opened to see the horned boy pulling the girl off of her. Axelle watched him, surprised as he obviously knew what he was doing. He moved with a fluid ease that showed that he was trained in at least some form of fighting. She watched him, eyes trailing his form until: "Easy there, Axe. You don't even know him."

The horned albino pushed the other girl back, ordering her to calm down. He then turned to face Axelle, offering her a hand up. At that moment, she was struck by his appearance. Small horns jutted from his cheekbones, accenting them sharply, and giving the boy an animalistic beauty to his face. Longer horns curved out from his forehead, mixing in with the spikes of his white hair. But his eyes were stunning. They were each split in coloring, one part the color of freshly spilled blood, a color she knew all too well; the other an icy blue. Axelle gave him a small smile, before turning her gaze to find her pad and pencil. She found them with ease, although her sketch was probably ruined due to the dew. Picking them up, she accepted the offered hand. Upon standing, she flashed him a far more charming smile, "Thanks for saving my life, Cher. May I be huhonored with a name for my knight in shining armor?"

[SASCHA DESRAKAHL]

The girl shuffled around a bit – he thought he heard the rustle of paper - before taking his hand and pulling herself up. With her standing about three feet away, he could see very general contour lines making up her person through the color, becoming a fraction more visible as the excitement of the confrontation died down. Her hair seemed to be a lighter shade than others, although with everything, it was hard to tell. She was a bit shorter than him, but didn’t seem to be out of shape. She seemed to be holding something, perhaps a book, which Sascha connected it with the paper he heard earlier.

A softer, more natural scent emanated from this girl, smelling almost like the typical rose if not for slightly musky human overtones. Her aura had faded to a more passive lavender, mixing in with the other chroma. However, instead of answering his question in a simple and effective manner, she went off in a much more dramatic tangent. Perplexed by the French accent and melodramatic persona, Sascha’s eloquence left him momentarily. “Huh?” He asked, blinking a few times as his brow furrowed. “What did you just call me?” He clarified, bringing to topic the first part of her confusing speech that confused him.

While if left untended the fight could have gotten rather messy, he by no means ‘saved her life’, and found himself mildly uncomfortable with the idea. Although the headmaster of the school as well as many of the staff could be considered heroes, the mutant had no intention of becoming one, and to be called a ‘knight in shining armor’ not even a week in threw him off quite a bit. Never having had such a positive reaction before, Sascha found himself prone to thinking the girl a bit unhinged. He fully expected her to brush him off or even become offended with him, but not this. He momentarily forgot the question hidden within the theatrical reception of his actions.

[axelle rosa]

"Aw, poor thing. He seems confused." Axelle frowned at the thought, studying him. She had come on too strong, that much was now clear from noticing how much of the confusion had been directed at her words. Europeans were rather affectionate as a part of their culture. Hugs and kisses were exchanged with little thought, a social norm in her area, and many compliments tended to be over the top in wording. More...fanciful, perhaps that was the word for it. "Maybe," Axelle thought, looking away from the boy as he questioned what she had said. "I should apologize."

"I am sorry. I was unmindful of the culture differences, and that seems to have made you uncomfortable." Her tone was apologetic, even as she looked up to meet his multi-colored eyes. "It translates to darling, and is a term my people use freely. I suppose here it is inappropriate to use such words as openly. I apologize for your discomfort."

The boy seemed to be lost in thought, possibly not even having heard her. Axelle studied him, feeling like she should say something else, something that could possibly show her gratitude for him helping her. Gently, she began speaking, "I am alright, thanks to you. If there was someway for me to show my thanks, please do tell."

She smiled at him, before reflecting on the fight. The girl hadn't been a trained fighter, but she had been smart with the few attacks she had landed on the French mutant. Most of them had landed on her stomach, knocking the wind out of her, but not causing much damage. The punches weren't hard enough for that. Axelle placed a hand to her stomach with a frown. It didn't hurt anymore, but she shuddered to think of what the other girl would have done next. Although smoky-eyes were a popular form of makeup, she wasn't keen on having it on in the form of a black eye. The boy before her had broken up the fight before it had turned serious, even though he didn't know her. He had had no obligation to help her, yet he had. And because of that fact, Axelle was grateful because of it. How could she repay him? The only thing she could thing of, which wouldn't freak him out or get them expelled from school, was an offer of friendship.

Offering him a kind look, she spoke again, both in English and in French, "Je m'appelle Axelle--my name is Axelle, and I am a chlorokinetic. What is it that you can do?"

[SASCHA DESRAKAHL]

The confusion must have shown strongly on his face, as she quickly apologized, her mannerisms taking on a very polite tone. The switch from very romanticized almost in your face to reserved and overly formal sent him for another loop, although he put more of an effort into concealing it. He gave a noncommittal hum of agreement absent-mindedly as she apologized, but she went on before he could take a quick exit. She seemed very sincere, and if it was another person, they might have been worried about how heartfelt the apology was. However, Sascha stood there feeling mildly uncomfortable as his actions had been enacted more to keep things smooth and without trouble, not because of any feelings of justice or compassion.

A slightly awkward moment passed as Sascha debated how to get back to the wall and to the dormitory without seeming overly rude, then the girl spoke again, introducing herself. "Je m'appelle Axelle--my name is Axelle, and I am a chlorokinetic. What is it that you can do?"

The first thing that came to mind wasn't entirely what she probably meant, but it was out of his mouth before he realized it. "Lot's of things," He muttered in perverse sarcasm, but before the words had soaked in, he responded in a more full voice. "It's kinda complicated."

He stood slightly on guard, as the girl seemed prone to changing attitudes much more quickly than any other normal person he'd met, although her aura stayed in a range relatively near what it was when she had calmed down from the scuffle earlier. In truth, his powers weren't all that complicated in the end, although they certainly complicated things for him. However, the girl didn't need to know that, nor did he feel the need to explain them in depth. Picking up on the sense that she might ask how, he did his best to clarify in the most general way possible. "I guess I could be considered a psychic."

It came to his attention that they were standing in a main traffic area, and he jumped at the excuse to move back to the shade, back to his wall. After another group of colors walked around the two of them, he gestured subtly to one of the less populated spots in the courtyard, conveniently closer to where he was trying to go in the first place. It didn’t particularly concern him if she didn’t see the slight nod to the area, but he felt slightly responsible to being at least a bit more polite than his usual callous self.

[axelle rosa]

The boy was very different from others she had met. The Lapin had been all too willing to show off, smirking as he ran up walls and sped around her. This one seemed more comfortable with a dark sarcasm, which he was attempting to hide from her as he spoke.

'Lot's of things.' Axelle grimaced at the words, not the sarcasm within them, but at the vagueness of the answer. In less than a few seconds later, the boy amended his words: 'It's complicated.'

"How?" She thought, her lips parting to ask that exact question. His abilities couldn't be all that complex. Did his horn emit electromagnetic frequencies, or something of the sort? Before her question could be asked aloud, however, the boy spoke again.

'I guess I could be considered a psychic.' She giggled quietly at his words, realizing that he had clarified a vague answer with another vague answer. As she laughed, a group of students walked past them, joking and messing around with each other. She smiled as they left, missing the feeling of companionship she had once had. She didn't really have friends at the Institute. She knew people, nice people, but not well enough to consider them friends.

"Perhaps, this could be different," Axelle thought, turning her attention back to the boy. Only, he wasn't there. "Huh? Where did he go?"

Pale eyes scanned the general area for him, finally spotting him in the shadows against a wall. She started towards him, smiling as she stepped into the shade. It felt nice to be out of the sun's direct rays. She tilted her head at the boy, murmuring, "Do you have a name, Near?"

She would have asked him to explain his mutation, but it seemed obvious to her that he didn't wish to speak of it. In actuality, Axelle didn't think that the boy wanted to open up to people, let alone to her. She couldn't fault him for that; she too had things she didn't want others knowing. But perhaps, time could change that.

[SASCHA DESRAKAHL]

She must have been looking away or lost in thought when Sascha moved, for it took a few seconds before the scent he began identifying as her reached his vicinity again. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, since it seemed as though she was following him on her own accord. Still, she remained friendly and didn't seem to be at all disturbed by him, so her intentions couldn't be all that bad. Her approaching footsteps had him stop, albeit a little grudgingly, and turn around to wait for her to catch up. She continued with the questions and he would have sighed if her next inquiry didn't have him cringe slightly. His name had always been a little feminine, and while not the sorest of topics for him, had caused him grief on more than one occasion.

She said 'Near' as though it was a name for him, and irritation flashed through him briefly. What was with this girl and calling him names? Of course, they didn't appear to have any malicious intent, but the fact that she assigned him names without his approval was starting to grate against him a little. However he was slowly starting to get used to her odd manner of speaking, and let the odd wording fall away in his head to recognize the question she was asking. While the idea of giving his old surname or his code name instead of his current one briefly visited his head, he decided it wasn't worth it in the chance that some confusion arose later on. So with that thought in mind, it was only a brief pause after her question that he answered instead with a sarcastic 'yes' but with his proper name. "Sascha Desrakahl."

He spoke as he begun walking again, if nothing else but to have something to do. His eyes roved the courtyard again, taking in the psychedelic nature of what he saw without thought as his fingers trailed the wall and the scent of humans and wet grass hung about him. A sudden thought of curiosity crossed his mind and he glanced over at Axelle, remembering the object she had dropped earlier. He discerned she was still carrying it, and wondered briefly what it was. However, he kept his thoughts to himself in case bringing the book up would cause boring or uncomfortable conversation. Still, it did linger in the back of his mind with a slight air of mystery. Perhaps he would eventually inquire about it, should it reappear on her person at a later date.

[axelle rosa]

Her question seemed to give him pause, or at least brought up unsavory memories, seeing that the boy cringed at her inquiry. Axelle watched him, wondering if she should apologize again or take his discomfort as a cue that she should leave him alone. About to do just that, the French girl was cut off as he answered quietly, beginning to walk away, with his hand trailing the wall, 'Sascha Desrakahl.'

"Oh." Names were always sensitive subjects, even more so when they could be used against you. She knew it better than most. Axelle had often been mistaken for a boy due to her 'masculine' name and short hair. Saul had always defended her when others made fun or commented on it. She had always had someone to protect her, to help when the comments grew harsh. Had Sascha had that as well? Had classmates bullied him for a seemingly girlish name? Did he have someone to stand by him? Or did he have to learn how to fight back?

"Your name is very strong. Germanic, I believe," she began, slowly following him. It had to be Germanic, due to his pronunciation of the names. German, however, was not a Romance language, so she could not be positive. Grey eyes looked at him imploringly, as she asked unsurely, "Would you mind if I called you Dresrakahl? It is a very memorable name."

Axelle had probably butchered his last name pronunciation, but at the moment she was realizing something else. Sascha had been heading back to his dorm. This fact was now blatantly obvious to the French girl by the beeline the boy was making towards it. Perhaps he had been in the middle of something, when she had decided to follow him simply because he shared her rare genetic mutation. She stopped following him, looking down at the sketchpad clutched against her chest. Realizing that he, if he noticed her stop, might be confused, she spoke, "I suppose you'd rather I not follow you to your room."

She pulled her pad away from her body, checking on the sketch. It wasn't ruined, merely dappled with water stains. The effect was that some of the image was blurred, while other parts were crisp and clear. Overall, not the worst of her work, but not all that artistically pleasing. Axelle groaned quietly: she should just stick to drawing people.

[SASCHA DESRAKAHL]

Already on the defensive, a habit ingrained from years of shielding himself from the criticism of others, Sascha couldn’t help but sneer at the girl, but he did have his head turned away so as to keep her from seeing his distrust. She sounded as though she was trying to compliment him on something that – in his mind – had nothing to be complimented on. ‘Very strong?’ Sascha scoffed rather moodily. ‘And how the heck does she know it’s German? If my parents didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t ta known.’ He glanced over at the baby blue blob that introduced herself as Axelle. “It’s Desrakahl, not Dresrakahl. Just call me Hound if you can’t pronounce it.”

His words came out a little sharper than intended, but he had no inclination to take them back. And it was true, anyhow. If the girl wanted to be nosy then she could deal with it. Even though she had already said something about cultural differences, it never crossed his mind that her attitude wasn’t nosy for her, just normal.

Sascha was so lost in his brooding that he didn’t realize she wasn’t tagging along until she spoke and her voice was further away. Once he realized it, he noted that her scent was slightly fainter, as well. Without turning back or stopping, Sascha lifted his free hand in a lazy salute. “Might be a good idea,” He agreed, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. At least she had the sense to realize where he was going. Sascha could easily bring to mind several people who needed a written invitation before they left him alone.

Her scent slowly faded and mingled with the others till he could no longer identify it, leaving him in peace. A small smile graced his lips for a second before fading; at least he would get a more welcoming response here. He had no doubt there would always be trouble wherever he went, simply because of his fairer skin, but at least no one would cringe quite so badly now. The brief time between the manifestation and his arrival at the school was horrible, although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Even his parents were hesitant around him where they once were supporting.

One hand trailing the wall, the other stuffed into his pocket, Sascha trudged towards the boys’ dormitories where his room laid waiting. Times were changing, and he found himself hoping he could come out better for it.