THE AU PICTURE PROMPT MEME

[athina]

the alternate universe picture prompt meme

similar to the picture and smut picture prompt memes but intended solely for ALTERNATE UNIVERSE shenanigans. comment with your character. others will leave a picture (or two, or three...) reply to them with a setting based on the picture. link to any pictures that are NSFW, please. be aware that this meme will likely be image-heavy. that's kind of the point. link to an image: <a href=IMAGEURL>TEXT</a> embed an image in your reply: <img src=IMAGEURL> control width and height of your pictures: <img src=IMAGEURL width=500><br />OR<br /><img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

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raven darkholme | xmfc

[undeterred]

[sonars]

[undeterred]

[ the whispers that echo through london's damp alleyways do not elude her, nor do they fall on deaf ears. gypsy woman, some hiss into the air, while others seem to celebrate her with words like soothsayer. others condemn her as a witch, though she finds she definitely prefers the prettiness of the word sorceress to witch and the image it presents, as though she's sprouted a great, big, wart-addled nose. the most accurate shout comes from those that sneer their lip upwards in distaste or horror as men recount the texture and hue of gleaming yellow eyes and bright blue flesh; one man claims to have seen her dance freely in the forest on the outskirts of the city, blue and naked and free underneath the light of the moon — just as a witch would, he says. some are fascinated, but the interest they seem to take in her mutation — her condition, as some would say, spitting it out as if it were venom on their tongue — seems entirely too scientific and appalling to be flattering. and then there are those like charles xavier and erik lehnsherr whom welcome her into their fold, deeming her beautiful and ensuring her smile maintains its radiance as they gift her charming silken gowns and little trinkets.

there are those who still enter their grand mansion with the intention of glimpsing upon her and forming their own opinions — or blindly striving to get a fortune from her. while raven meddles and jests particularly abrasive or stuttering customers out of their coin, she is no prophetess as some would claim. charles often regards her profession, if one could call it such, with a hidden smile on his face as he glances to her disapprovingly, but it's erik who views it with fondness and amusement, urging her to do as she wishes. beads and feathers and shining jewels hang from the entrance and the foyer of their grand mansion, the smoke and scent from incense clouding the room nicely as the windows remain dim due to the curtains draped over them. if many don't run out in a fright, she keeps a nice deal of coin to support those that reside with them — women and men such as herself. if they do run off in fright, at least she earns her fair share of amusement for the day, laughing her way throughout the rooms with a shake of her head to cover up the slight pang that it truly does hurt to be regarded as a monster.

charles and erik had forewarned her about a new recruit coming to visit — and though the door chiming alerts her to a presence, she's not entirely certain if the boy that enters is a gawker, a new type of lecher come to peer at her, a customer, or simply the new member of their little society. but raven decides to have her fun, regardless, with a mischievous glint in her eye. her smile is reserved but bright as she lingers in the doorway, somewhat obscured by the jewels and feathers that hang in front of her, as she tilts her head to observe the boy in question. she knows that many would be appalled just by looking at her appearance, despite not revealing her true form yet; if raven were not a mutant, she thinks she would go against the very fabric of london society in a manner of other ways. she keeps her skin pale, devoid of its blue, and her hair spirals, wild and unruly rather than the primp and proper hairstyles of other upperclasswomen, around her head — shifting from blonde to brunette as her eyes try to pierce through the newcomer in front of her. her dress is just as upstanding as one might expect it to be — but much to the chagrin of those that would think of her as improper, it drapes from her shoulders, flippantly and messily, where her hair comes to drape over her bare shoulders. she cants her hip against the doorway, smile widening, and her tone light but coy. ]

Are you going to come in before the world ends or are you planning to stand there all day?

[sonars]

[sean has never seen a place like this one. the tall arches, the intricate detail that vines its way around the entire room. he's touching one of the jewels as raven approaches, nearly jumping out of his skin when she speaks to him. he stands, gawking at her at first, unable to speak. she is beautiful, and he feels like he wants to get to know her, to find out how she deals with what's out in the big bad world of london. everything about her is unique-- the way she dresses, speaks, has her hair done, her smile. she has really nice teeth, he notices, and he may be in awe as he watches her hair change, so he stares back at her just as she stares at him.

unlike her, though, he is not dressed so prettily. his clothes are a mix of middle-class clean and lower-class aloofness. sean doesn't really care about his clothes as long as they fit. he stands in a partial slouch, shoulders relaxed and hands -- which were once distracted with the jewels hanging from the doorway -- at his side. his hair is unkempt and a poof of curls and disarray, and though he may be slightly intimidated, he grins at raven, crows feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. he tells himself that he can certainly talk to her without messing it all up.]

I really like all of this.

[he motions to the entire doorway -- her included, though it's mostly by accident -- and then the room that she's in; he is leaning forward just slightly to catch a better glimpse of it all.]

I'm Sean. Sean Cassidy. Pretty sure you're expecting me, so...are you gonna invite me in?

[undeterred]

[ of all the individuals suited for this task, she thinks erik or charles would be more fitted to greet and educate a new arrival, with their composure and gentlemanly charms. as it stands, the both of them had seen to traipsing through the stables for their own little personal meeting they had chosen to exclude her from, so she supposes the responsibility falls to her. don't frighten the new arrival, charles had instructed — but if he had anticipated that she would heed his words when he had given such a command, she doubts that he knows the extent of who she truly is. sean's words assure her of his identity — unless he believes the whispered gossip of a soothsayer residing in the heart of london, but raven very much doubts even a prophetess would be able to predict the approach of certain customers.

she doesn't say you aren't really what i imagined, even if the words form on her tongue. she swallows them with a continued and persistent smile; none of the individuals crowding charles' boarding house — though mansion is certainly more apt — are as anyone envisioned them, of that much she's certain. she considers being direct and blunt, prying into the details of his own mutation — but raven knows, in a similar position years ago, she would have merely concealed her embarrassment and self-consciousness with a few sarcastic, wry quips, and she hardly feels the desire to place a stranger in that particular (and awkward) position due to an overwhelming need to satiate her own curiosity. she's already gotten him to gawk and nearly jump out of his skin, after all, and that much is enough.

she's somewhat sure his gesturing doesn't imply that he counts her as a piece of the surroundings he seems to enjoy drinking in, but raven can't resist beaming (and maybe preening, just a little, like a colorful peacock in the presence of admirers). it's rare most have the nerve to even vaguely compliment her, finding that they prefer to flee into the night to be rid of her — and those that are brazen enough inevitably become wary of the true woman beneath the silks and smooth skin that gives way to bumpy blue. she angles her head to follow his eyes to the jewels that settle over the entrance to her foyer, evidently taking pride in her handiwork from the pleased expression that flits across her features. ]

I'm guessing you mean the atmosphere.

[ which doesn't include raven herself. some are frightened by the cloudy incense and how rapidly their senses are assaulted by stepping into the dimly lit room, others are fascinated — but this sean cassidy fellow seems to take it in stride for the most part, after his initial reaction. her grin becomes crooked as she states, simply: ]

No.

[ no, she won't invite him in, simply to be a little difficult and playful. but her laugh follows, ringing softly through the room, before she spins to wander further into the abode, halting to glance over her shoulder to amend her statement. ]

Invite yourself in. Do you want the grand tour?

[sonars]

Well, [he gives her a cocky grin,] that, too.

[at any given chance he has to compliment a woman, he will most definitely do so. he can at least be somewhat smooth when it comes to giving compliments, but most of the time, they are awkward, and he thinks that as long as he tries, the confidence will get him somewhere.]

No.

[he repeats back at her, tone vaguely disappointed. he catches on to her joke, though, and he's back to eyeing the place (and her) curiously. he will never forget this moment, or any moment he has here-- he's sure of it.

so he forces himself to take the first step past the hanging jewels and feathers and into the room that is too gorgeous for him to find words for. there is truly nothing like it, he decides.]

Yeah, that would be great.

[his nervousness (at least most of it) has disappeared and replaced with excitement and blatant curiosity. he is both at awe of the architecture and suddenly cold with goosebumps. he has never felt so alive.]

Where to first?