12879/Promised Meetings

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Promised Meetings
Date of Scene: 23 March 2021
Location: Masonic Cemetery, Sunnydale (TBD)
Synopsis: Just a chat in a graveyard among friends. Kurt owed Xiang tea. Now why Xiang and Tala hang in graveyards at 3am? That's a tale for another time.
Cast of Characters: Xiang Zhao, Tala, Nightcrawler




Xiang Zhao has posed:
Sunnydale. A cemetary. Perhaps not the smartest place to be wandering around at night, but then Xiang Zhao doesn't have any idea of the place's history. The hour is late, or early, nearing three in the morning. Overhead, the moon hangs full and bright. A light breeze blows, causing tree branches to creak in the relative darkness. Their shadows in the moonlight move with a creepy sort of motion. The lower places of the cemetary are partially obscured with pooling fog, but the higher places are as yet clear of the creepy stuff.

Xiang Zhao wanders the place. Curiousity perhaps getting the better of him. He's looking over the headstones, one at a time. His people have cemetaries, but for the most part, their honoring of their ancestors occurs in personal shrines, so being out in such a graveyard is a somewhat novel experience.

Xiang Zhao comes to a stop near a larger tombstone, a pedestal that is waist high on him, witih an angel atop it. The angel's arms are spread, one raised higher than the other, and he looks to heaven. His feathered wings flare out from his back, as though he's about to take flight and make his way to heaven.

"Ni shi shen me? Ni shi hu bu shi ye gi bu xiu de huo yi ge shen..." Xiang's is quiet, tone such that he could either be talking to the statue, or to himself.

Tala has posed:
He might feel it before he sees her. That echo of power that is around her, expanding to the world at large around her. She's not trying to hide. Not at this time of night. The only beings out this time of night are the monsters. Those she would like to have feel that power since it may deter them.

As she walks, feet bare on the grass covering the entire cemetary, there is no sound. But the fog seems to move out of her way.

She moves slowly, white on white eyes scanning her surroundings as she slowly walks along. Then she pauses, head tilting to the side as a voice floats to her on the breeze. It's that signature she felt before. The one that mirrored something she had sensed in New York City.

She walks toward the sound, a smile on her face but there is still an otherwordlyness about her that wasn't there in the Magic shop. "I knew we would meet again. It was fated to be."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
The monsters. And Xiang Zhao. He.. doesn't seem to be a monster. But to those who can feel such things, his spiritual energy can be felt. And seen, by those who can see such things. He might be a tasty buffet, his energy appears to be pure and rich. Like being able to see to the bottom of a clear pond. He's standing on a high enough spot that no fog is there. Not yet, at least.

The robes he wears appear to be silvery white in the moonlight. They are likely pale grey. A subtle pattern of ebroidery in white can be seen. It is sewn such that it resembles the way wind blows snow in the mountains. Light and whispy, like the snow might be a playful spirit playing with the wind.

Though Xiang appears to be wholly occupied by the statue and his study of it, that doesn't turn out to be the case when something alerts him to a presence nearby. His head turns, and his eyes scan his surroundings, trying to see in the darkness what or who might be there. Though his eyes are adapted to it, he has nothing to allow him to see better in the dark than a normal human. He does, eventually, spot her, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a faint smile. "It would appear we are fated to meet, you are correct," he replies, tone soft but not quite as soft as it had been toward the statue. He nods to the statue. "What is this? It is not an immortal. Nor a god. Is it some sort of..." He pauses, head tilting ever so slightly as he pulls the desired word from memory. "Mutant?" He says the word carefully. He's still not entirely used to saying it.

Tala has posed:
She can feel that purity of him. It was unusual. Very different from what she had felt from other users of magic. There was no doubt it was magic but what type. Was he even aware of it outside dabbling since he had been in a magic shop. Perhaps one of those new age types buying crystals.

Tala continued to walk toward him, stopping when she was a few feet away and looking toward the statue. Her brow furrowed slightly then she looked back to the unusual man spending time in a cemetary. As once was said, she herself was strang and unusual. Like recognized like, in some ways.

"It is an angel. A belief in many of the religious faiths. A being that does the will of God." She pauses and tilts her head. Something there. The hint of a memory but like a will-o'-wisp when she tried to catch it, it was gone.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's the purity of one who has never used dark magic, or used anyone else's blood as a source of powering spells. It also probably hasn't ever been used to kill humans. And there's also something that says he only has access to a fraction of that power, that the rest is bound, somehow.

Xiang Zhao does look the type, with his flowing robes, that would buy crystals. He might well recognize a soul akin to his own in the woman. The teacher. He considers her answer, and then nods slowly. "Ah. So not unlike the heavenly emperor's subordinate gods. This makes sense."

Slowly, Xiang Zhao turns to regard the rest of the cemetary, robes swirling around his legs and feet. There's something under the robes on his left side that doesn't allow the robes to swirl as freely on that side as on the right. Though the fan in his right hand hadn't been open, he flicks it open with a small movement, accompanied by the soft hiss of silk on silk, and starts to lazily wave it, though it surely isn't needed in the present time. It's not precisely hot, and a breeze is blowing already. His left hand is tucked at the small of his back, something that seems like it might be as much a habit as the fan waving.

Curiously, despite the location and the hour, and the strangeness that is the woman beside him, Xiang Zhao shows nothing but calm. Even the waving of that fan is slow, and utterly calm.

Tala has posed:
They are in the city of the Hellmouth. Monsters and magic hold sway here. Yet both of them seem not the least bit concerned that they are out in the middle of a cemetary at three in the morning. Neither seems to find it odd that the other is present.

Like beings but perhaps opposite sides of the coin.

If his posture is curious, she doesn't seem to realize it. She isn't even one to be aware of the oddity in the movement of his robes, simply not observant in that way. For her it is that gentle flow around him. Like the calm waters of a stream. Did he know how those soft waters could be channeled, turned into a raging flood of destruction? That purity told her no.

"You have power. Yet you do not tap into it. You limit yourself." So much for small talk as she goes to what has her curious. Of course in doing so, she lets him know she can sense some things. Perhaps she isn't some strange new age woman buying crystals either.

"Why?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Opposite sides of a coin indeed. Xiang Zhao really isn't the slightest bit concerned with anything, from the looks of things. Not the location. Not it being the middle of the night. Nor that another is out at this hour. Afterall, if he is out at this hour, why shouldn't another be? He really is like the calm waters of a stream, though. Flowing on, nothing causing ripples to the surface. What might be under that calm surface, one might wonder. Chances are she is correct. He has almost certainly never turned those soft waters into a raging flood of any kind.

Quite the opposite, likely. Something about him says that he uses his magic as an aid, a tool, an addition to ... something else. The grace of his motions says martial arts, but it could be anything.

His dark eyes come back to her, though his body remains facing the way it had been. Slightly to the side. "It is not I have have placed a limit. Fate has placed a limit. Without the proper knowledge to unlock that power, I do not have the wisdom or experience to control it."

Ah. So he knows that it's there, at least. There seems to be a bottleneck, of sorts. He is allowed, or has gained, access to some of it. But not even a tenth of his true potential. If he keeps going as he is, he might reach his full potential around his three hundredth birthday. Of course, normal humans don't live that long, do they? So he likely won't reach but half of his full potential, if that, before the day he dies.

Tala has posed:
"Ah." A simple sound but it sums up her response. She understands limits on powers, keeping one from reaching their full potential. Doesn't she? Wait, she's not experienced that yet she knows how it feels. Her frown was back as she looked toward the angelic monument he had been regarding previously. She takes a step toward it, splays her hand on one of the wings as she fights to get that memory.

Gone again. Mist burned off with the rising of the sun. Perhaps someday she might understand. It would not be tonight."

Tala dropped her hand and turned to face him again. "I could offer to teach but I fear I do not understand this kind of magic. It tastes...strange." Tastes? Odd choice of words.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao watches her, his expression holding thoughtfulness to it. Thoughtfulness turns to concern as she leans on the statue. "Are you well?" The concern in the question is evident in his voice. And when she turns back around, he remains standing in the same place he had been before. Fan still lazily waving a breeze at his face that wasn't needed.

Taste. A word that is oddly fitting. "It is very old magic," he says. "It is magic that was gifted to my clan by the heavenly emperor many thousands of years ago." That might explain the taste! There really is an old scent to it. Ancient, even. Though, not as ancient as the other magical signature that had come to New York City nearly two months ago. His is definitely the newer scent. That there's something older... that might be a cause for concern.

Tala has posed:
There is a brief nod of her head in answer to his question. "I am fine. Just a thought that is proving difficult to capture when I focus. Nothing amiss."

When he explains his magic, that helps fill in a lot of blanks. He doesn't seem like the typical American, and his mention of the heavenly emperor. Old magic indeed to have such a source. Though, there is often a lot of fable in such family stories yet the fact he does have magic gives some weight to the story.

"Thus impossible for one such as I to teach. Pity."

Tala tilts her head to the side, her raven hair sliding in front of that bare shoulder with a whisper of sound. "There was something else though." She takes a deep breath, as though smelling something savory. "Older. Stronger. Near you."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Ah." Xiang Zhao sounds at least passably familiar with the phenomenon of elusive thought. He puts it from his mind, for the moment at least.

He also doesn't sound like your typical American. Though, many Chinese Americans sound just like him, as far as accent goes, but they use more... normal words. God, and Jesus, and.. they would predominently know what an angel was.

Xiang Zhao considers her for a moment. "Perhaps if I show you what it is I can do, it would help?"

And then she mentions that older, stronger something that had been near him. Xiang Zhao goes utterly still. Even the fan stops moving. "Huli Jing," he whispers. His face lifts as though peering into the heavens. "We have tales. Tales of animals who cultivate power. For so long that they learn how to take human forms. Jiu wei yin huli. It takes a hundred thousand years of gaining power to learn a human shape." He takes a breath and drops his eyes back to the woman. "If it is who I think it is, she is very powerful and very dangerous."

His hair lifts partially from his back as the breeze swirls around them. "For some reason I can not fathom, she likes me." That sounds like a somewhat fatalistic statement, but Xiang Zhao sounds utterly serious.

Tala has posed:
"Beings of power and age are often fickle. That is a dangerous being to have 'like' you," Tala says as though she has experience with such things. "I suppose the fact you are not dead likely proves you are liked. If she found you dull, you may not be here."

A statement of the obvious after what he told her. "Huli Jing." She tastes the name, giving it a place in her memory. Something to learn more about, these cultivators of power. Could such a thing be tapped into somehow? Or allied with at the very least.

"I would be curious to see what you can do, even if I cannot help you gain more mastery of it."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao breathes out a barely audible breath. "If she found me dull, I would not be in this city. I would be home." He takes a breath, a deeper one, and straightens his shoulders. "But, I am here. This is where I am fated to be or Huli Jing would not have managed to bring me here."

It's very possible such a thing could be tapped into. Or even learned. Possibly. Allied with certainly. If the fox didn't decide Tala was a toy rather thana. person.

Xiang nods. "I am Xiang Zhao. This is the easiest to show you." And he lifts his left and and begins to paint something in the air. Faintly glowing pale gold hanzi, Chinese characters or letters, appear. And then Tala can see it. The power starts at his core, golden and shimmering inside his body about halfway between his sternum and his belly button. It spins every so slightly, slowly like the languid waving of his fan earlier.

From that core it flows down channels that appear to be much like veins within his body. It flows, circulating in a rather orderly fashion. It might be like watching the flow of blood, were one to be in a situation to do so. The flow all circulates, winding up getting stronger in his left arm and hand. And as the hanzi disappear, a glowing ball of flame appears, hovering over Xiang Zhao's palm. It's small, about the size of a nickel, but is easily enough to illuminate both of them, and around them for a few feet distant.

Tala has posed:
Rapt attention is given to the display. Her odd eyes tracking the flow of his fingrs in the air as though he were painting. The figures glowing as they hang, created from nothing. Then that golden glow starting at the center of his mass and flowing out to all of his limbs, so many trails of golden light it is impossible to follow just one.

Up to that arm, stronger, then the flame coming to life. Tala's smile is brilliant as she brings her hands together in front of her, in a praying position as though she might have been about to clap.

She flows forward. It's the only way to describe it her movements are so smooth as she takes the few steps to close the distance. She reaches out a hand toward the flame. A purple glow appears around her own hand. Not touching that flame but seeing if it acts like a normal flame. If there is heat and if the brushing of air as she moves her hand over it will make it dance.

"While I can make flame such as this, the mechanics to doing so differ. I am very curious about your kind of magic."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Perhaps curiously, now that she's seen it, she'll always be able to see that the golden core is there in Xiang's body. It's probably the mutation that allowed his people to wield their odd type of magic. And while he holds the flame, the energy within his body continues circulating. Draining slowly, but steadily out of that pool of power that he can tap into. But only the unrestricted part, and she can see that this size flame he can probably hold for an hour or more without problem. But if he were to do something stronger, the drain would be immense. It doesn't help that the flame fights his control. That causes worse power drain than, perhaps, other spells would. If Xiang is bothered by how she flows forward, he shows not a single sign of it.

As she reaches toward the flame, it does indeed act likea normal flame. It is hot, and dances, within the allowed constraints, with the brushing of air. And, a side effect, as it dances, it strives more to escape, to be free. And the power drain grows that much worse.

"I am happy to show you as much as you wish to see. Everything I do works the same way, even the talismans. The only difference is in how they are written, and the intent I have in my mind as I am forming them." For the moment, the power drain seems tollerable. "I can do many things, but none of them is overly powerful. Even summoning souls doesn't take that much power, and it is the strongest, and most dangerous, of my spells."

Tala has posed:
"Summon souls? Out of someone's body?" Because automatically Tala thinks worst case scenario. Taking souls out of a living body to kill them. It would be an effective strategy. A bit extreme but effective.

She tilts her head a bit as she leans back, sitting atop one of the tombstones as though it was a chair. Or a stool. Not really showing respect for what it is and represents. Or perhaps she simply realizes it is a marker and nothing more, the spirit long flown from that box below in the ground and there was no reason for her to worry they might be offended.

"It this normal for Eastern magic or something specific to you?"

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao immediately shakes his head. He concentrates for a moment and the flame winks out. It is night time. The fog in this cemetary gathers like pools in the lower spots. Xiang Zhao and Tala are near a mausoleum with an angel statue in front of it. A higher place where no fog has reached yet.

"No, not out of someone's body. To summon a soul which has fled back to its body. I... had not ever thought to try summing a live soul out of a body. I do not think I have the power to do so." Well. At least he's honest about it?

Zhao considers the question and then shrugs his shoulders. "It is normal for Xiang Clan. Beyond us, and those we teach, some of it is normal for Eastern magic, and some of it is not. Talismans, for example, are fairly common down the mountain."

Nightcrawler has posed:
There is a square type of tombstone to mark one of the graves. It is the sort that has a wider base than what it is at the top. The sort which often has a statue atop of it. This one, however, has lost its statue. There is a BAMF of air being displaced, and there are tendrils of purple and black smoke that slither through the air. The odour of burning brimstone is carried in that smoke.

That's not all that the smoke seems to have brought, though. There is a figure that is left in the wake of it clearing. He wears a pair of blue jeans and a grey t-shirt, and there's a leather sort of satchel that he's carrying along with him. Glowing yellow eyes take a glance about, and one of his pointed ears wiggles slightly. Furry and blue, and his tail swishes lightly behind where he crouches atop of that particular tombstone.

Tala has posed:
There is a sound, one that draws the attention. A BAMF which is not a normal noise that most people would recognize. After all, that sort of displacement of air was not heard daily. Then immediately with it was the stench of brimstone.

Tala turned her head in the direction of the sound even as she waved a hand in the air. Purple light flowed behind that hand then expanded out and disappeared. A simple ward between her and the new person, though it was insisible to the eye. She focused her white on white eyes onto the new arrival, blinking once in surprise.

She drew in a deep breath of that stench, something most would find acrid and something to avoid. Drew it into her lungs and breathed out a sigh that one might if they had smelled roses. Or homeade cookies. "Welcome."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao turns his head as the sound and scent reaches first his ears, then his nose. "Hello Kurt," he says, eyes alighting upon the blue dude with the pointy ears. "How are you this night?" He doesn't react to the scent of the brimstone but for a slight flare of his nostrils. And then it is ignored. Entirely.

His dark eyes shift to Tala at her reaction. "He is a friend," he reassures. Those dark eyes move then to rest on Kurt. "She is a friend." Zhao goes back to waving that fan of his. A lazy motion. Almost habitual. Maybe it helps him think.

Nightcrawler has posed:
It's not a common or an everyday sort of sound. Lightly, Kurt swishes his tail behind him, the movement sinuous and almost lazy in nature. Lifting his free hand, he lightly tussles his hair a bit, not seeming to be bothered at all by the slight fogginess of the night.

As the welcome is offered, those pointed ears perk up somewhat. Kurt turns his head in the direction it had come from, his glowing yellow gaze lightly passing over each of them in turn. "Oh! Gute nacht, to you both," he says a bit brightly, sounding pleased. Lightly, he turns his body and then lightly hops down from atop of the tombstone, landing softly on the ground before approaching them. "Ah, I've been looking for you! I'm well, thank you, Zhao. And for yourself?" he asks, his ears staying perked up, a glance givento the woman to include her in the questionas well.

The satchel is in his left hand, carried there. His attention turns to the woman that he doesn't know, a moment taken to simply give her a brief look over, and he steps closer as he offers his right hand. "I'm Kurt," he says with a smile.

Tala has posed:
This night gets more interesting by the minute. At the reassurance from Xiang, Tala waves that hand again. The wall of purple appears in front of her, though transparent enough to see through, then shifts to what seems like smoke of the same color. The smoke reverses itself back into her hand and disappears with the closing of her fingers.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Kurt. I am Tala." When she speaks it is with an obvious Russian accent.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
It's a little more than slight fogginess, in fact. The fog in the lower parts of the cemetary is so thick, were one to enter it, they would not be able to see their hand in front of their faces. It's just... clear. Here. On the high places. But the dips and valleys, not so much.

Zhao looks curiously at the blue dude. "Goot nokt?" It's a creditable imitation of what Kurt had said. "Good night? No. That cannot be right. Good evening?" At the blue man's words, Zhao looks even more curious. "You have been looking for me? My pardon. I seem to not have been to the forest in some time." Which, really, is true. It's been easily weeks since he'd last been to the forest near Xavier's school. He pays little mind to the satchel Kurt carries.

Zhao's attention is caught firmly by Tala as she dissipates that barrier. "That," he says, "Was interesting. My magic.. does not go back in. It..." He raises his left hand in a motion upward, fingers waving. It seems to be him trying to describe what his magic does. "Fades? I am not sure this is the correct word."

Nightcrawler has posed:
There's a soft swish of Kurt's tail as he watches the woman, his gaze following the motion of her hand with a flicker of curiosity. He doesn't recognize what she's doing, but can only presume it to be magic of some variety. He smiles as she introduces herself, and gives a nod to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Tala," he says. He seems at ease, and rather calm.

His glowing gaze turns to Zhao, and he titls his head to one side before grinning and giving a nod. "That's very close! It is German. Ja, it means 'good night'. 'Good evening' is 'guten abend'," he says, willingly sharing the knowledge. He chuckles softly and shakes his head. "Ah, it is not your fault that I've not been able to find you. But ja, I have been. I promised you tea, and I have it," he says, sounding pleased. With the words, he offers the satchel towards Zhao. He doesn't seem to have a comment about the magic -- he's not a mage, after all.

Tala has posed:
"This was a different type of spell. It was a ward and I have to remove it but to do so, I have to draw it back. It simply was the type of cast I use. The power does not return to me truthfully, as I used nothing that was my own. I used what is in the air." She raises a hand as though indicating the graveyard, though she means the world in general instead of their precise location.

If the oddity of a German demon elf man appearing doesn't phase her, apparently not much will. She isn't even nervous discussing magic in front of him.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
"Mm." That's all Xiang Zhao says for a moment. He seems to be thinking about it. Then, "It sounds like good night," he says. The fan continues waving lazily, creating just a hint of a breeze wafting up toward his face. It makes the two midnight strands of his hair to either side of his face waft up with it.

"Well. Perhaps. You may have been able to find me if I had been where you were expecting me to be." But he hadn't been. There had been... things. Things happening. And he hadn't been able to be there.

There's a slow blink as the tea is mentioned, and his dark eyes shift to rest on the satchel as it's offered. The fan stops waving and snicks closed with a soft snap and the quiet sound of silk upon silk. He keeps it in his right hand, folded closed now, as he reaches for the offered satchel. He accepts it with an air of reverance.

Both items are juggled, satchel and fan, as he puts his hands together in front of him and bows to Kurt. "Xiexie ni," he says. Then, "Thank you, very much." Zhao is clearly very touched by the gift.

Zhao looks to Tala again as he rises from the bow and lowers his arms. "That makes sense. I can only use what is within myself. I cannot use anything around me without first drawing it into myself. And that takes meditation and time." Xiang Zhao doesn't seem to be any more nervous of discussing magic in front of Kurt than Tala happens to be.

Now, he looks down to the satchel and opens it, looking within.

Nightcrawler has posed:
"That is rather interesting. I have no magic, but it does tend to make me a bit curious when it's used," Kurt says, a thoughtful note to his voice. Well, no magic in that sort of way but he has his teleportation and that's always been enough for him. "So you basically released the energy to do as it was doing before," he comments. His tail lightly swishes behind him, the end of it flicking with a bit of interest.

His attention turns to Zhao, and then he gives a nod. "Some German words are like that. Others, well... schmetterling is rather far removed from butterfly," Kurt comments with a grin and some amusement, his ears wiggling a little.

"It is no harm done. The tea was not damaged at all for waiting a little bit longer to be given. I'm not worried over it. I have found you, and it's all good," Kurt says, giving a nod. He glances towards the fan when it's closed but then his gaze lifts back to Zhao's face. "You're very welcome, and I hope that you enjoy all of them. There are a number of varieties there for you," Kurt says with a smile. And there are all of the varieties that can be found in Zhao's home, a fair amount of each one.

Tala has posed:
"Magic is a gift. Thankfully, one I was given the ability to use. If you have it within you, you could learn as well. Sadly, not all are born with the ability." Tala glance over as Xiang starts sorting through his assortment of teas, giving a small smile.

"Though some like our friend Xiang have a very different kind of power from what I can do. And you? What is your story, Kurt? "

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao glances to Kurt. The way the blue elf man explains things from his perspective of understanding. Released to go back to how it was. He blinks at the German word for butterfly. "That.. does not sound like butterfly. But the Chinese word does not either. Hudie." Nope. That doesn't sound like butterfly. What it sounds like is a hoodie someone wears. Not Zhao, of course. He doesn't wear hoodies. Nope. Nopey nope. He is looking through the satchel as he talks. Well, looking at the things on the top. He closes it up again and then tucks it under his arm, with the shoulder strap over his shoulder, on his left side.

Zhao nods to Tala's words. "Mm. Not all of us of the Xiang Clan can develop cores. Have to have a core to use the magic. Else.. cannot touch the magic within." That gives the impression that the magic, whether accessible or not, is within each member of Xiang clan. He looks curious as to what Kurt's answer might be to Tala's question. He flicks the fan open again with the soft sound of silk on silk prevalent, without the sharper snick that closing it had produced. His hand goes back to lazily waving that fan back and forth. The motion is curiously graceful.

Nightcrawler has posed:
"Ja, magic is a gift, for those who have it," Kurt says, a smile coming to his features and some of his pointed teeth showing. "Some have it, some do not. It is what it is," he adds, lifting one of his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. He doesn't seem to be particularly fussed over the fact that he doesn't have magic. "I don't think it is within me," he says, giving a soft chuckle.

One of his eyebrows quirks up at the questions from Tala, and he tilts his head to one side, studying her for a long moment. Then he lifts one of his shoulders in a bit of a shrug. "I was born this way. I used to be part of a circus, in Germany," he says, a smile easily coming back to his features. "'The Amazing Nightcrawler', they called me," he adds, giving a small nod. "I was a trapeze artist," he comments.

Kurt turns his attention to Zhao, and he chuckles. "Exactly, right?" he suggests in a bright tone. "Although... I have to agree. Hudie doesn't sound much like butterfly. Japanese is 'batafurai', so it's not too far off. French is 'papillon', and Romani is 'fluture'. Some are closer than others," he muses in a thoughtful tone. His ears wiggle a little bit as he listens to Zhao explain about his magic, curiosity in his features.

Tala has posed:
"So it is something in the Xiang bloodline but not every member develops it. That's quite interesting. I never explored bloodlines and the abilities." Not knowing her own past, she never had the option open to track her own after all. "Though I know the Justice League has Zatanna, daughter of a formerly famous stage magician. Perhaps he was not just using tricks and sleights after all."

As Kurt gives his story, she gives him another nod. "So a mutant? I hope that term is not offensive in any way. I understand it is the term for those born with abilities. You are quite beautiful actually. Truly blessed to have such a gift."

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Just like the blue elf, Zhao doesn't seem to be bothered that he doesn't have things that he doesn't have. For instance, he can't teleport. And that's okay. His feet are good enough. Though buses? Quite handy for getting places quickly. Yes. In his experience, buses are a quick mode of transport. They are, afterall, faster than horses. And they never get tired.

Xiang Zhao listens curiously to Kurt explain his youth. His brow furrows. "Trapeze? This is what?" He nods about that single word, butterfly. "Fluture, sounds a little like flutter. I suppose that could be used to describe how a buttefly flies."

His dark eyes shift to Tala and he nods. "Yes. However, it is not exclusive to the Xiang bloodline. People from outside the clan come to learn, and are able to learn." He is quiet for a few moments, eyes wandering amongst the gravestones, waving that fan. He seems to be thinking, now. There has been a lot to take in, new information. "I do not know what a Justice League or who Zatanna is." His eyes move back to the woman, curious as to what is being spoken of.

Nightcrawler has posed:
"Magic is a very beautiful mystery," Kurt says, giving a small nod. One of his eyebrows quirks slightly at Tala's words, and he gives a nod. "Ja, a mutant is what I am," he agrees, a smile coming easily to his features. He doesn't seem offended in the slightest. "I have no reason to be offended at all. It is what I am, and it is the correct term. The powers, for most, seem to manifest when puberty happens," he explains. His own were slightly different, but there were... certain extenuating circumstances. Then his chin ducks shyly at the compliment that he's been paid, his tail flicking forward around himself, and though it can't be seen on account of his natural colouring, there's a blush in his cheeks. "Ah, it is very kind of you to say. Very kind, meine dame," he says softly, sheepishly.

Kurt's attention turns to Zhao, and he tilts his head a little bit. "Ah, I will have to show you, at some point, perhaps. It is a horizontal bar that hangs from two ropes, usually high up in the air. It swings, and there is often more than one of them, sometimes at different levels. Acrobats, they use them to swing on, to hang from, to leap from one to another. Sometimes there is just one acrobat,and sometimes there is more than one. They will dangle from them, catch each other, throw each other. It is a beautiful thing, with music," he says, doing his best to explain it. It's easier to demonstrate! But he lacks the opportunity to do so, here.

He takes a moment, to consider the time, and he lifts a hand to tussle his hair a bit. "I should return, alas, I have an appointment early in the morning. It has been good to see you again, Zhao. I'll have to see about finding you here again, if it is somewhere you frequent," he says with a smile. Then he looks to Tala. "It has been a pleasure, truly. A good night to you both," he adds, looking to each of them in turn before he BAMF's to... somewhere, leaving behind burning brimstone scented smoke.

Xiang Zhao has posed:
Xiang Zhao listens curiously as this... trapeze thing.. is described. "It sounds like it would be a good thing to train on, for martial arts," he says, tone thoughtful. "I will take you up on your offer to show me, some time. It sounds interesting and good." He lifts his hands to cup them before him, and bows to the blue fuzzy elf man. "It has been good to see you again as well, Kurt. Please, do not be a stranger. I am often in Sunnydale these days."

He straightens from the bow, and turns to Tala, bowing to her as well. "And I as well, need to depart. Be safe, Tala. It was good getting to talk magic with you." When he straightens, he turns and walks away. Curiously, down into the dips and into the fog and.. then he's gone. That fog, it swallows even sound, muffling it until it is no more.