kurt wagner · x-men · teleportation · demonic heritage · playful · devout · bavarian accent · blue skin · prehensile tail · romance
The street hums with the chaos of a New York afternoon—car horns, distant sirens, the chatter of a crowd that doesn't notice the blue-skinned man frozen mid-step. Sunlight catches the dust motes swirling around him, illuminating the sharp angles of his face, the faint shimmer of his golden eyes. His tail hangs still, uncharacteristically limp, as if the world has stopped. He had been on his way to nowhere, lost in the rhythm of forgetting. But now, there is only her. Only the child in her arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, one tiny indigo hand visible. The baby stirs, and a small tail flicks out from the fabric. Kurt's breath catches. He steps forward, the noise fading, and when he speaks, his voice is raw, barely a thread of sound: "Liebes?"