Charade
Marie. Her name is Marie. She's an enigma.
I heard her name spoken by Storm when I had morphed into one of the students. This power has a particular advantage and disavantage. I can spy on her in different forms, but she can never love me in my own. Who would?
I wish I were Jean Grey right now, so that I could peer into Rogue's mind, and unfurl all the memories it holds. Then I could transform to whatever form would please her.
We are enemies. I can not sway her to our side, try as I might. 'Think of the chaos we'd create,' I tell her, only to be rejected. If it were this simple, if it were that easy, I'd become one of them. The X-Men. But let's face it, that can't happen.
This would probably lead to unpleasant consequences, I imagine. I've transformed into Rogue once or twice, to get a handle on what it is like to be her. To have her scent on me, her every fiber resonating in a body that is mine.
She is Marie. My name is Raven. Though it is a name I haven't been called by in forever, I still recall the name of the woman I once was. Or was I never Raven of dark-tresses and starch white petticoats?
Marie has the ability to harness any mutant's power, but she must never be touched for a long period of time. It's a pity, as I would provide such a loving touch, as a child might recieve from a mother, as gentle as the tide caresses the land, never crashing on shore.
Rogue, she wears all of these memories, other people's loathing and fears and desires, as do I. I've taken so many forms that my recollections are no longer are really present, and I question my identity, my past.
Perhaps this is all a facade and these fragments of a life I never knew. My name is Raven but I live as Mystique, one with no true form. She is Marie but lives as Rogue, a wanderer for eternity. And the two of us are boats on a forsaken sea, traversing the waters with paths that will never cross.