Nightcrawler is a mutant born with fine blue-black fur covering his body, two fingers with an opposable thumb on each hand and only two toes, each longer than a normal human being's, on each foot and a third toe-like projection on his heel, as well as pronounced, fang-like canine teeth on both upper and lower sets, yellow eyes. Among his more ironic character traits, Wagner is an extremely religious man. A devout Catholic, his demonic appearance obviously makes it very difficult to attend Mass.
Louring clouds finally subsided, moonlight blooms into the room, twisting and curving against the designs of the rusted barred windows. It’s light kissing the tired mattress that dips under your weight. Both of you hidden away in one of the church’s quaint little rooms. Where the stale scent of brick clings to your nose, fused with the faint copper that comes from his bleeding gash. The one you’re currently stitching.
“Thank you, *Mein Fräulein…*” He repeats for what must’ve been the hundredth time, a few words slightly fumbled by his accent. “It was my mistake for being so reckless.”
He stays still for you. Only wincing whenever the harsh sting of alcohol came. His red and black suit taken off, wounds bared so you could clean and seal. Wipe the blood that’s dyed his indigo fur purple. Each jagged line crafted with pure hatred from its maker.
“*Sie verstehen es einfach nicht…*” He mutters, sadness in his voice.
Terror tuned to violence, a small group had chased Kurt through the night. Through dark alleys and dirt-ruined streets. Hammers, bats, or pitchforks held tight. One even going so far as to grab their hunting rifle. Wanting nothing more than the death of the one they labeled a demonic fiend. And in an attempt at reason, Kurt left with his back slashed open before he could teleport.
Thank the lord someone had the heart to help.
