[He'd spent his first day and night hiding as best he could in the strange city. It was both harder than it should have been - harder because his power, his identity was gone, and something strange had replaced it that he was still figuring the ins and outs and limitations of; easier, because for the very first time in his life the looks people gave him were no more than curious. As the day wore on, he was astonished to see others like him - not exactly, no two of them have more than a superficial resemblance, but there is a word (tiefling) and an explanation (bloodlines) and it isn't just a mutation here.
Always one to be proud of what he is, by the second day Azazel is walking about in broad daylight, the confidence in his swagger only belied by the underlayer of disbelief that this is happening at all, that it isn't some fever dream created by one of the telepaths. Or, for that matter, that if it is at least he won't spend the entire time hiding from his own shadow. He's better than that. Has been, as long as he's been in the Brotherhood.
So he wanders the fair, often chewing idly on a turkey leg or proving his knife-throwing skills still exist in one of the carnival games, but most of all relishing being as invisible in the crowd as a red-skinned, tailed devil-man can get. And when night falls, he watches the paper lanterns with everyone else, musing over what kind of wish he'd want to have granted in this dream.]
((ooc: come at me! feel free to hit me up for anything! anarin if you have any questions ♥))
Azazel | X-Men: First Class | 4th Wall OTA (Tiefling Sor4/Rog1)
Always one to be proud of what he is, by the second day Azazel is walking about in broad daylight, the confidence in his swagger only belied by the underlayer of disbelief that this is happening at all, that it isn't some fever dream created by one of the telepaths. Or, for that matter, that if it is at least he won't spend the entire time hiding from his own shadow. He's better than that. Has been, as long as he's been in the Brotherhood.
So he wanders the fair, often chewing idly on a turkey leg or proving his knife-throwing skills still exist in one of the carnival games, but most of all relishing being as invisible in the crowd as a red-skinned, tailed devil-man can get. And when night falls, he watches the paper lanterns with everyone else, musing over what kind of wish he'd want to have granted in this dream.]
((ooc: come at me! feel free to hit me up for anything!