11064/When Ramsey met Piotr-y

When Ramsey met Piotr-y
Date of Scene:	14 February 2020
Location:	Breakstone Lake - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	It could have gone much, much worse.
Cast of Characters:	Cypher, Colossus, Magik

---

Cypher has posed:
Back at the school. Back in the snow. And Doug is doing something that few men in the world would dare to do.

He's sneaking around, waiting for the moment where Illyana is paying the least amount of attention, and he's pelting her with a snowball. Then he runs like hell, only to sneak around from a new angle to do it again. She'll catch him... eventually. Or tell him she's had enough. But for now, his wool cap pops up from behind a low stone wall, and he lets fly at her.

Who else would dare pelt the Darkchylde with a snowball?

Colossus has posed:
    The trip for supplies often draws Colossus away. Sometimes it is another, so tasked and sent into town. Sometimes there is a delivery that arrived with some measure of pomp and circumstance with people milling around curious what the delivery people have brought on that day. But there is ever something forgotten, and often a secondary list develops. And it is this list that brings Piotr back home from Salem Center, the dark black SUV he drives belonging to the school pulling into the garage.
    After a bit of time he emerges, shouldering a cardboard box and tucking a few bags of groceries under his arm as he leans against the garage door button to get it to open. Once he's fully raised he slips out before the time delay shuts it again. And it's then that he sets foot on the walkway leading him ahead.
    Of course then the sound of the nearby /splut/ is heard as one snowball makes its impact. And for an instant he smiles, recognizing the sound and imagining children playing so.

Magik has posed:
The evening is not a casual one for Illyana. She does not have casual evenings of kicking back to watch a movie, read a book, or worry about whether the ombre effect of her nail polish is identical. The effervescent violence enshrouding her in a dark halo requires refinement, and most of the time the Danger Room doesn't satisfy for these needs. Not in the same way as they might.

She dances in the wilds, or as close to the wilds as the sprawling grounds of the school allow. Foregoing the yellow-based uniform that rarely finds her nowadays, she wears no more than a pair of black leather pants and a black base layer with the neck carved with an X. The Soulsword carves the air in twain, lightning that strikes relentless as she pivots through the forms of a dance probably not much practiced on earth. Doubly because her enemy is herself.

An identical version spins with a brutally wide sword compared to the glistening sabre carried by the t-shirt wearing variant. Creaking leather and clashing snow flies in the air where the brutal overhand strikes brings to bear the petite Russian sorceress's strength. That one's in the leather crop-top. Snowflakes whirl around them with the temptation of the wind.

The double clash of striking blades come together as Doug flings a snowball. Splut indeed.

The projectile sails straight through the unseen guard, one of the Illyani spinning. She's the first hit. The second crackles with a green-gold aura and hisses. An extremely sibilant sound. Considering the Darkchylde /was/ around here the other day...

Cypher has posed:
Whoops! He can generally tell the difference between simulacra and the real deal, but his aim? Ah, if his aim is bad, that's something else entirely. He missed.

But, there are generally ways to defuse the situation, which is why Doug climbs atop the low stone wall and sits, before he starts juggling snowballs. One, two, three, four, five, six of them. "I surrender." He says, plain as day. "You win."

He lets one of the snowballs land on his head. Splop.

Colossus has posed:
    Around the corner comes the brother then, of course. Taking the long way around and the straight shot into the kitchen from the back door. But it's on the side walk way that he takes the turn and finds that the source of the sound is none other than... his sister...s sisters. And in her darker form as well, somewhat. It draws him up short and for a time he stands there, the paper bags under his arm and the box on his shoulder.
    Then he catches sight of Douglas, eyebrow quirking as he considers what this may be that he has stumbled upon. Especially as the snowball plops on his head. Clearly it should be understandable, explainable.
    Yet he seems compelled to explain himself. "Greetings. I am..." A pause as he looks between them. "Groceries. You see." His accent a little heavier than normal.

Magik has posed:
The double image of Illyana is human. The children running away from gremlins in the backyard the week before? They carried the stories of Illyana with the curled horns and the devil's smile, a promise overwhelmed by wading into hacking up multi-limbed monsters wielding too many weapons. Blonde and blonde, the twinned vision includes one who is undoubtedly familiar in the external form. One tilts her head, the larger of the two blades humming rather violently at her side. She brushes snow off herself.

The other one smirks, stalking off to the trees. A wave over her shoulder for Piotr is brief, acknowledging. But with the sabre in hand, she might seem the more real of the two. Nimble and purposeful, instead of the death marchioness looking flatly in Doug's direction. She carries on towards the trees.

"Was the kitchen low on bread again?" Illyana plants the radiant point of the sword down and doesn't lean on it, unless she wants to fall facefirst into the snow. "Hello, brother. We both seem to be snowy over here."

Cypher has posed:
Doug's response is to... wink, and then go back to juggling snowballs. "Oh, Hello, Piotr." He says, before he drawls "Must be low on a few of the important staples, huh? Or is Logan out of beer again? Hey Illyana, did I ever tell you about the time that Sam, Berto and I tried to use a fake ID to buy beer...?" He's GOT to be making that one up. Someone would've ratted them out. And Sam would've never gone for it.

"We would have gotten away with it, except Berto put 'Thomas Magnum' as the name on his fake ID..."

Colossus has posed:
    A look between the two and Colossus gives a nod somewhat as he murmurs slowly, "I daresay. I agree?" As if not entirely trusting for whatever reason. But indeed, snow. They have been splutted, that much he can accept. That said he starts forward again, carrying the items and pausing as he draws closer to Douglas.
    "You both are faring well, yes?" He tilts his head one way, then the other, looking finally upon Cypher with a curiousity in his gaze.
    Then his lip twists upwards a little. "Ah..." He looks over at Illyana, then turns his blue-eyed gaze back upon Doug. "And which one of you was Higgins?"
    That said some small barrier is passed and Colossus resumes his walk, moving to the back. "I trust you are both well. And nyet, these are... some notebooks I believe. And some test sheets, and in the groceries it is mainly juices. And the Gatorade, little Thomas is sick."

Magik has posed:
An illusion out on the loose or maybe they are talking to the illusion while the actual Illyana sits on a branch, preparing for the inevitable crater. Well, she at least knows how to look casual standing around with a legendary weapon out of myth.

"Gatorade?" It's evident this girl often does not shop for such beverages, or she lives off black tea and very little else. "This is a medicine? They will call a doctor before it becomes too serious?" Her pale brows rise beneath the thick fringe of golden bangs traced almost platinum around her nose. They need a good trim. "I am well. Preparing." Always preparing. It's needless ot say for what. She rests on her heel, oblivious to the cold, her gaze moving from person to person. It lingers on Doug for a moment longer. "Why did he not use Ricardo Magnum?"

Cypher has posed:
"Well yeah, Gatorade's great when you're sick, it's easy to digest, it hydrates you and... you know, salt, electrolytes, sugar, everything a fever depletes you of --" Doug ticks off on his fingers. Then he glances up, and says, "And I am doing my best to distract her." He turns his head to Illyana, and beams. He's also trying to distract himself. "I don't know if we would've had better luck with that name, beautiful."

Colossus has posed:
    "It is to help with hydration, I believe." Piotr looks between them as he offers explanation, still holding his burden effortlessly as he looks between the two. But then he shifts his attention fully to Illyana and frowns a little, though he then adds. "Is most likely just a cold, for that rest is best." Though assuredly if a doctor is needed they will take Thomas to one.
    He straightens up a little at this point, however. "What are you both doing out and about at this time?" Not that the hour is too late, but more there is definitely the strangeness in the air. Which might just be Xavier's brand strangeness. Illyana flavor.

Magik has posed:
Just because she has a terrifying degree of the Oxford English Dictionary and Roget's Thesaurus enshrined in her skull does not mean that Illyana necessarily follows exactly all the components spoken in detail by Doug. She does and she does not. How much actually penetrates the clouds to reach the surface far below? "Hydration from a cold. I see, then something that ought to brighten his spirits." A small nod affirms the approval or acceptance for the task. Because who knows better what it's like to be a sick child than the one who dropped dead under Xavier's care? Right, not going down that road.

"More entertaining, maybe. Where has Berto been, anyway? I have been slowly encouraging his chef to consider dual employment." And totally not by terrorizing her kitchen with demons and reflections meant to frighten in every reflective surface. She saves that for immigration officials and pesky social media influencers. "We are waiting for you, naturally."

Cypher has posed:
"Oh, uh." Doug rubs the back of his neck, and then shrugs, once. "We're still trying to figure that out. But I'm sure he's fine."

Doug glances back to Piotr, and then back to Illyana, before he shrugs, once, and lets out the white elephant in the room. "So. Piotr. Illyana and I are dating. I mean, I won't speak for her, but I'm having a great time... and she can take me to all the best Russian places. The ones where they don't speak English."

Colossus has posed:
    "Waiting for me?" Piotr half-smiles half-smirks as he starts walking again, moving toward the back door of the mansion, around the side of the good manor and stepping foot on those hexagonal tiles that lead him toward the small back porch area where he climbs the steps leading to the door.
    The cardboard box is set down as he reaches for his wallet and brushes it against the sensor there to disengage the locks. There is the faint click-ca-click and he pulls the door open, reclaiming the box and starting his way into the kitchen.
    "Ah, waiting to tell me of that." Once in the house now he stomps his feet there near the rugs, letting some of the snow sluice down the side of his shoes. He holds the door for them then and asks, "For what reason? Am I to grant my blessing?"

Magik has posed:
"Irkutsk, Tolyatti, Perm, Ufa, Rostov-on-Don, Vladivostok, Petersburg." A ranked litany of possibilities, past or future, making it somewhat difficult to establish how serious the normally contained sorceress really is. She smiles up at Piotr. "He needs culture, nyet? It will not be found eating chips in front of a screen or pacing through the side streets. Yekaterinburg next, I think. Once the winter loosens its grip a little."

She waits for Piotr to finish opening the door up to the manor, probably anticipating him dropping the supplies off and coming back in. Shifting on her heel, she still has the sword planted between her feet but she still needs to move. Glancing over to Doug, a somewhat blank look of alarm possibly creeps into her eyes. "Did you ask him--"

A beat. "That we?"

Cypher has posed:
"Well I mean..." Doug shrugs, before he glances to Illyana, and raises his eyebrows, before he says, "You know, we abscond to tropical locales. I read her love poetry. Byron. Tennyson. Keats. Sappho." The corner of his mouth curves up in a grin, and he slips his hands, pink from throwing snowballs, into his pockets, before he rocks back on his heels. "You remember how I used to read poetry to Kitty, right? Well, Illyana's a little more fond of Shakespeare..."

He puts his hand on his chest, and declaims to Illyana, from memory,

"Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find."

Colossus has posed:
    "Culture is good, though..." Piotr looks over in Douglas' direction and hrmmms to himself, then back toward Illyana as he offers, "There is some to be said for popular culture., yes?" That said he smiles a little as he reemerges, now free of burden and so now stands before the door with arms folded. He presents himself as a dour sentinel, casting his gaze upon his sister and her paramour, those blue eyes perhaps as heavy as several anvils, they are leveled so heavily upon him.
    And then the Shakespeare begins to which he listens. And listens. And purses his lips. But also listens.
    Then he looks over at Illyana with an eyebrow quirked asking a silent question of her that is likely only capable of being shared between brother and sister.

Magik has posed:
Illyana nods without the least impressions of emotion touching her face except that stoic kind of regard. Expression will eventually find its place to sit suspended among Slavic features. "We went to the ice festival on the Neva. Beautiful creations that are fleeting, and the sky as pure and cold a blue as home. When the White Nights come, we ought to go and experience them. Teatime at an hour after midnight, but none of those dry biscuits. The ones that taste like cardboard stiffened with glue." A quick shake of her head follows. Clearly this is an experience she expects Piotr to understand. "But we might run into trouble from the Metropolitan for reading Sappho. He does not approve of such things. Ancient women poets, ancient stories like that." A mild wave expresses exactly what she thinks of this opinion.

"At least it has me reading, not only fighting. The library only has so much." Arctic blue eyes meet the warmer ones of her brother's. "But I remember Pushkin." That smile is faint, slow. "You paint with a thousand shades for a thousand poems. He uses a thousand words in a hundred tongues. What else am I to do? I could wage a war?"

Cypher has posed:
Doug stops, and then he rubs the back of his neck, before he says, "Well, my voice is all I have. When I get Laryngitis I'm reduced to signing frantically and angrily..." He gives a faint grin, and says, "...Where you go, I go."

Then he sighs, and looks back at Piotr. "Look." He says, "...Teasing aside? I am... kinda in love with your sister, big guy. And I don't know what's going to happen in an hour, let alone tomorrow. So I'm just..." He holds up his hands, "Along for the ride. She does what she wants. Sometimes she wants to be around me. She's the boss."

Colossus has posed:
    A long deep breath is taken by Piotr as he inhales sloooowly, then holds it there for the space of a handful of heartbeats. The way he simply holds his tongue, watches, listens, it might perhaps signify some endorsement of the course of warfare, as if that might make more sense in some ways than this particular pairing. The incredulity expressed in his eyebrow is enough to lend credence to that consideration.
    But then he exhales just as slowly and flares his hands open, gesturing wide as he murmurs. "You are both young." And he is so old, so wise. "If you both take enjoyment, happiness, then who am I to object to the state of such things."
    He uncurls a hand toward Illyana, "And in truth, the weight is off my back for if there is a moment that passes that makes my Illyana cry, she assuredly will render reprisal greater than anything I could imagine. Yes?" That last said toward Douglas.

Magik has posed:
Maybe, just -maybe-...

The Illyana seated in a pine quite a distance away is staring holes into the great stone pile that wishes it were somewhere on the River Cam. Never a jaw-drop for that one. A crooked look. Is she the illusion, or is the Illyana right in front of Piotr the right one?

Well, that one actually gives the hugs to the much larger man so that one probably would be the real one. The illusion is still trying to parse through a dozen possibilities. Transference by spell takes a bit. So, slim arms and a hop up anyway to hide behind the man who can turn into living steel the same as her armour likes to do when threatened. So far, no sign of that, but the abandoned Soulsword -still- stands upright by itself, looking ludicrously bright.

Beacon to the soul there, Doug?

"I will ride around on your shoulders if you think that weight will go away, Piotr. You will not bring up how old I am. From this side, /you/ look like the young one," she admonishes him. Other Yana has not fallen out of a tree. She /is/ still headtilted. "I don't know what is right to say like this. Are you going to give him a bag of grain now and tell him he has to buy a house?"

Cypher has posed:
"Well, I was thinking of buying one anyway. I owned a cabin in Washington state, but I sold it to Kurt." Doug says, sheepishly, "I want a little house on the coast, someplace cold, someplace where there aren't a lot of people... where I can see the ocean." He looks wistful for a moment, for his little house on the coast.

"But when would I be able to get out there?"

Colossus has posed:
    A low rumbling chuckle is given as he slips one arm around Illyana's shoulders and holds this one at least close, though he does stray a glance toward the other Illy as if juuuust to make sure. But he looks back down and ruffles up her hair before turning his gaze back toward Douglas. "I have no grain."
    His nose crinkles and then he steps back, motioning to the door. "As for a house at least give me some warning before you move in together." At that he winks at Illyana though, perhaps signifying something else. But for now.
    "Come inside. I shall make cocoa and you shall tell me all the very very cute little things you wish to tell me about the other and I shall attempt to keep a straight face, da?" That said he moves to make it so, the door being pulled open for them all.

Magik has posed:
"How about a sheep?" Someone has totally played Settlers of Catan. Piotr apparently has an advantage when it comes to agricultural products, no doubt. The division of labour and resources is an important business. "Cocoa sounds better. Let's go inside, then, and find all the marshmallows. See which of you can build the bigger tower with one marshmallow and twenty pieces of spaghetti."

This is why she's the demon queen. Illyana comes up with cruel games. Holding out a hand to Doug, she bounds up the stairs. As for the Soulsword?

It winks out, headed off somewhere for strategic sheep herding purposes.

Cypher has posed:
"What can I say, Piotr. The woman knows me." He reaches out to take her hand, and says, "And just think, we became friends in the first place because both of us had a crush on Kitty!" He grins, brightly.

"Hot chocolate sounds good." He murmurs to Illyana, "You want me to brush your hair tonight?"