Release

[Pyro]

John headed straight from the meeting hall to the outdoor training compound. It was still the same old disaster area as ever and there weren't many oil drums left to blow up given his last foray out here, but that was fine. He hadn't come out here with the intention of destroying.

He'd come out here intending to create.

He stood stock-still for several minutes, his eyes closed, gathering his composure and his thoughts around him. He was drawing energy from the world around him, visualising that the more he drew in, the more he could release.

Strangely, this almost meditative state brought the headache to a brief crescendo and then it faded out to its perpetual throb.

John's eyes snapped open and he flicked his wrist in the downward motion that would ignite the glove. A small spark blossomed into a fireball in his hand and he looked directly ahead of himself. So far, he'd worked only on tendrils, looping ribbons of fire that could reach out and grab things.

Time to increase the stakes.

He loosed a plume of fire onto an old packing crate which burst immediately into flame, giving him a source of fire to draw from. The initial burst was easy, almost entertaining. He used his powers to draw streams of fire from the create that inched their way across the compound slowly and steadily, like fiery snakes.

Beautiful. It was so beautiful. Mesmerised by his own creation, John's awareness of the world around him began to fade into obscurity as all that mattered was his creation, his fiery baby.

The ribbons of fire converged and with a supreme effort of will, they burst upwards in a column of fire. John held out one hand in front of him, unconsciously mimicking the way Magneto had used his powers and began to construct.

A little more here, a little more...there...

The column of fire ebbed and swelled, changing shape and form, becoming something altogether more...

...avian.

An eagle. A fire eagle. Beautiful in appearance, deadly to the touch. So easy to create in truth, but sustainability?

John wasn't even aware he'd fallen to his knees as he focused on the glorious creation in front of him, feeling a peculiar sense of exultation racing through his body, a surge of adrenaline that kept him able to keep the bird there amidst that column of flame.

The second, however, that he tried to make the eagle move, it burst spectacularly into a thousand tiny fires and dissipated into the air.

John let loose with a low moan of frustration. He had come so close. So close to releasing the true potential of his powers...

The world around him slowly drifted back into focus and it was only then that he discovered he was lying face down in the tarmac of the compound.

He still couldn't do it. He still didn't have what it took.

Slowly he got himself back up into a sitting position and drew his knees into his chest as he composed himself once more, and tried his hardest to put aside the feelings of contempt and failure at his efforts.

[mystique]

Mystique watched him from the doorway, leaning against a boulder and admiring his new skill. Fire was a beautiful thing, deadly, hard to contain... but beautiful. She could identify with that.

She realized in the few minutes she spent observing him then that he had not been lying when he told her he'd discovered new power since they had last met. She wondered if he knew how impressive it truly was. Where he knelt feeling only failure, Mystique's heart leapt as she saw triumph. He was already so much greater than mutants twice his age.

"Eric was always proud of you." She spoke into the morning air, her voice low and smooth. "But I don't think he would have believed his eyes had he been standing here just now."

[Pyro]

He uncurled from his tight little ball of angst and looked up at her. He got slowly to his feet, knowing that the dizzy spell would come, but not wanting to display any more weaknesses in front of her.

...there it was...

All that was visible externally was a quick closing of the eyes, a deep swallow of the bile that raced into his mouth. "It was a failure," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone. "What earthly use is a fire construct that breaks up the second you try to move it? It's little more than ostentatious artwork."

He moved back so that he could lean against the wall in what he hoped looked like a nonchalant pose, but which gave him support.

[mystique]

Mystique walked towards him, taking a slow breath and looking around. She'd had her own failure there, so she understood the sentiment. Almost.

Her golden-yellow eyes fixed on him. "I am beginning to think you wrap yourself in your disappointment as an excuse."

How dare he doubt himself. It made her stomach turn. She grabbed his arm, less strength in her own than she was used to, but she was still plenty strong. Pulling him to his feet, she stepped behind him, and slipped one hand around him, palm on his chest. She held him up.

John couldn't fool the woman schooled in reading nonverbal signals.

"Now. Try it again." There was no request, no encouragement in her voice. Only expectation.

[Pyro]

He thought for a moment that he was going to throw up all over her, the suddenness of the movement disturbing his shaky equilibrium in a way that almost literally sloshed the barely existent contents of his stomach from one side to the other. He took several deep breaths and stared unblinkingly at her.

Her tone, an order almost, broked no discussion and certainly no argument.

John swallowed back the nausea, and closed his eyes again, once more channelling energies. This time, he kept his eyes closed as he drew on the remaining flame smouldering from the packing crate. He could almost taste the ash in his mouth this way. When he focused his thoughts on fire without the benefit of sight, he stopped guiding the flame.

He was the flame.

The construction of the fire eagle was swifter this time, the necessary mental building blocks were now in place. He could put the thing together with expediency, like a bright child who had put together a jigsaw puzzle so many times that they could do it by sheer touch alone.

The huge fiery bird took shape in the centre of the compound once more and she felt his body tense under her hand, felt the physical toll this was taking on him. She could actually feel his heart rate increasing through his thin chest, realised that his back was drenched in sweat.

Then, in a sudden moment, he burst from her grip, both his arms outstretched in front of him, his eyes still tightly shut and the eagle took flight.

This time, it didn't immediately dissipate, but flew once, twice, three times around the compound before settling on the packing crate and simply absorbing itself into the flames there.

John's eyes opened and he swayed slightly, ready to collapse to the ground again.

"I did it," he said, and his tone was wonderment. "I did it."

Then he fell to his knees again, but this time with a shout of laughter.

"I did it!"

[mystique]

Mystique smiled, lifting her chin a bit as she looked down at him.

Once upon a time, someone had done the same for her. But she was not born with the sort of abilities John Allerdyce had been. Not nearly.

As he knelt in the center of his own world, Mystique took a few steps away. Why was it this place, this empty yard of rubble and dirt, seemed to capture her unaware and yank on her heart. It was very easy to pretend she was still the same creature after the cure raped her of her identity... but at her soul's depth, she knew that was not the case.

Raven Darkholme looked up at the stars.

Such a shame, she was so beautiful...

She swallowed hard, and looked back at Pyro. What she might not be able to do for herself, perhaps she could do for him. She'd spent a century becoming what she was. Maybe, she could save him some time.

[Pyro]

[[Exit John to thread Instructions ]]