2540/Hisako Ichiki and the Suppurating Arm Wound

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Hisako Ichiki and the Suppurating Arm Wound
Date of Scene: 22 September 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Armor, Magik, Marvel Girl




Armor has posed:
Hisako Ichiki has been hurt before.

No, not like, emotionally, that much is obvious when she's had at least one X-Man Crisis Moment due to having her mother and brother die in a completely arbitrary and random car crash back home. She has not really dated while on campus but that is not the only way to feel pain.

But not like this.

"This" is more emotionally involved than most. Once the adrenalin and Rachel's psychic opiate induction faded, Hisako had to get actual medical treatment for her arm, which has been messed up thanks to Mad Harriet of the Female Furies. In addition to several EXTREMELY PAINFUL hairline fractures, she has a huge burn on the back of the arm. Most of it is second degree with a nice strawberry-sized third-degree patch right where whatever the hell Harriet did had its epicenter.

She's lucky, it'll heal, many people had worse, yeah, she knows that. And she could claim she is asking this so she can fight again faster. But that is a little white lie.

It's going to look like garbage. Hisako likes not wearing long sleeves.

And where medical care kind of falters and where you can't just borrow someone's healing factors... you must turn to

MAGIK!

"Hey, Illyana?" comes Hisako's voice from outside of the mostly disused room. "I know you might not be here but, can you, hear me?" She knocks with her free arm. (The other is bandaged and in a sling.) "I wanted to talk to you for a minute?"

She tries the doorknob a moment later, just to confirm whether or not it's empty and she'll have to further her chase.

Magik has posed:
    The door is unlocked - rarely if ever is it locked, simple virtue of the fact that it is Illyana's door being enough to ensure it is avoided by most who live in the mansion and do not happen to share her surname or are, at the least, named after Monster Magnet songs.
    And, inside, it's not quite what most would expect (for it would be difficult indeed to fit columns of flame, demons, AND a throne inside of so modest a space) - it is instead home to a wardrobe, a closet too filled to be shut, a number of bookshelves, a dresser (stacked on top of which are several cartons of cigarettes and it seems a modest pharmacy), and a queen-sized bed.

    Upon said bed are Rachel Summers (likes: red leather, spikes, age: it's complicated) and Illyana Rasputina (likes: black leather, spikes, age: oh god why does my head hurt all of a sudden), a crystal ashtray set between both fully-clothed women (Illyana, for her part, wears too-tightly-fitted pants of obsessively polished black rubber, full-length gloves of same, ballet boots with nine-inch heels, and what could charitably be described as a halter top).
    Illyana takes a recently-lit cigarette from between black-painted lips, smoke billowing forth from flared nostrils as she turns her head towards the door and, tactful, she asks:

Magik has posed:
Illyana says, "What do you want, Hisako? We are talking of time travel and also boots.""

Marvel Girl has posed:
    Events at the Halls of Justice had ended up hitting too close to home for Rachel Grey. Very literally. Stressed as she was, she didn't help herself by staying around after she was sure Jean and Hisako had gotten the help they needed, to continue the fight in Metropolis. She vented her frustrations, her anxieties. In the end? She just felt worse.

    So here she is now, finding ways to forget.

    It's part of why, when Hisako opens that door, she'll find Rachel already there, sitting next to perhaps one of the only people with a childhood as fundamentally traumatic and terrible as her own. Dressed up in a white, sleeveless white button-up shirt with a red necktie hanging loosely across the front, a black, pleated mini-skirt, and a pair of thigh-high, red leather boots, the girl seems to just be quietly winding down a cigarette of her own as Hisako comes in. Green eyes lift, shuttering in a brief blink of surprise and recognition at the sight of the other girl.

    "Uh. Hey, Hisako," she offers eloquently, legs drawing up just a bit as she tilts her head to the right. "We were--" she begins to explain, before Illyana very diplomatically does it for her. "--yeah. Right. You know... important stuff." She taps that cigarette against the edge of the crystalline ashtray, smoke spilling from her lips as she watches Hisako for a quiet, considerate moment. "What d'you need? Is something up?"

Armor has posed:
Hisako blinks in momentary surprise that the room is occupied; blinks again to see it is being occupied by both Illyana in semi-full effect and... Rachel?

Hisako looks at Rachel momentarily. In her deepest heart, Hisako thinks: I knew it.

Then she purses her lips as she looks back to Illyana. "I need your help," she tells her. "Um. Can I come in?"

Into the room that smells like rubber and cigarettes?? Well, it's not like that was hugely different from significant parts of Tokyo. Kind of nostalgiac if anything. Hisako is way more declasse in her outfit, although her Doop World Tour T-shirt is pretty flattering.

"I messed up my arm," Hisako tells Illyana then, even as her eyes go down to the magnetic appeal of -

"What are those?" she says finally, having decided that Illyana is actually wearing boots and they aren't like evil rubber hooves again. This inquiry comes carefully balanced between the poles of 'I'm genuinely impressed' and 'is this a sex thing?' - not a mean feat, but that might be her secondary mutation.

"Anyway, Rachel, tell her about the thing?"

Magik has posed:
    "You are already in. What does it matter if I give you retroactive permission? If I say no, will you not have entered?"
    Her expression is, as is its wont, blank; her inflection offers not even the slightest hint that she might not actually be answering a question so thoroughly preposterous as the one she just asked. And, in any event, the proffered shrug seems to be a sign of assent.
    (The room doesn't JUST smell like rubber and cigarettes - it also smells of ozone, and what could easily be mistaken as lubricant by someone unfamiliar with the fairly extensive procedures needed to actually keep clothing-grade latex supple and shining and to prevent it from beginning to tear like an old rubber band.)
    Illyana rolls the tip of her cigarette against the bottom of the ashtray, then lifts it back to her lips and breathes in until her breasts force the material of her top to expand. "They are boots, Hisako. Have you not heard of them?" Well, that time she's joking - she's smiling a little, and she only does THAT when she's being mean to someone.
    To Hisako's suggestion, she turns her head to Rachel; thin brow arched up, tone suggestive, she says - "Yes, Rachel, do tell me about the 'thing'."

Marvel Girl has posed:
    Hisako stares at her like someone who's thinking about something topical. Rachel's response is the inward knit of her brows and the slight purse of her lips, as if to just ask 'What?' without asking it.

    But as Hisako's attention shifts back to Illyana, the time-displaced redhead seems content to just be left with her own thoughts; paper crinkles into little orange embers and ash as Rachel takes another drag of that cigarette, the smoke of her last exhale still lingering in the air as the wisps of the next spill free. Her eyes lift back to Hisako. Wander downward, for a moment. Her brows lift.

    "... What the hell is a Doop?" she wonders, as if baffled by the very word. Forgive her. She's not from here.

    The wondering statement, though, is soon followed up with the slow roll of green eyes and the heave of a weary little sigh as Illyana continues on. "Take it easy on her, Illy," she says simply, head tilting Hisako's way. "She's still fresh-faced." Her expression softens in silent apology for Hisako, a faint, awkward kind of smile to complement it. "Er, don't worry about her, okay? She's just... like this. Always. It's okay if you don't know what boots are."

    Not that she's much better at people, either.

    She's in the middle of another drag of her cigarette when that pointed question is levied towards her. She blinks, sucks in a breath -- and then coughs in irritation, smoke spilling out of her lips as she shakes her head and stubs out that stick of tobacco. "It's not--" she begins, before clearing her throat. "I mean... ugh. She got hurt during the mission at the Halls of Justice. A bunch of..." She'd call them hunting dogs but she's already trying to shove those memories back beneath the surface again. "... freaks from the invasion attacked. One of them got through Hisako's armor. She's got a pretty bad burn on her arm." She looks Hisako's way. "... Are you here for that? That's the thing, right?"

Armor has posed:
"Jeez! I know what boots are, god! Those things look like some kind of space boots," Hisako says defensively, even as she looks at Rachel with an expression of mild betrayal. Et tu, Rachelle? Et... tu? "I've never seen anyone WEAR boots like that. Can you even stand up in them?"

She almost raises her injured arm up to sweep her bangs back. Her face blanches and tightens.

She uses the other hand even as she looks back to Illyana.

"That is the thing," she confirms to Rachel. "They told me it's not going to like, just get better over night, and if I have to beat someone off, it's probably going to bust open and get, like... neutrophils all over things."

And so Hisako looks back at Illyana, the tight moment of pain in her face fading out. Gradually. The congested and synthetic smells in the close room, now filled as it is with /three/ people, war with her for a moment. This puts a note of pleading in her voice.

"I thought you might have some kind of... healing magic or something. I'll owe you one if you can help me out here. I don't want to be sitting on my butt when Dark Side or whoever shows up and stabs Young Aquaman to death."

Magik has posed:
    The unspoken urging from Rachel, and plea from Hisako, is apparently:

    It is, in ten-foot-tall letters that flash in neon lights, "DON'T BE A BITCH, ILLYANA."
    Such sage advice is, of course, accep-
    "You are often beating someone off, hmm, Hisako?"
    Oh. Oh, never mind, then.

    And then there is a click of her tongue and smoke billowing from her nose and she says, "Darkseid is the Tiger Force. He would take you to a hell without exit or end, and there would murder your soul." The little wave of her gloved hand, the roll of her cobalt blue eyes, both are dismissive and her tone is as flat as if she were reading off a press pamphlet.
    Illyana's legs swing off the bed - rubber pulling tight against her thighs, creaking softly - and she stands, calves and ass both tensed to a rigidity very nearly so impressive as Rachel's default, relaxed state. It's an inevitable consequence of boots that hold your feet straight downwards, your weight supported by faith in fetishwear as much as anything else.

    "Yes, I will heal you."

    She bends at the waist; she places her cigarette in the tray.
    "I am not so good at it, so there might maybe be a scar? Mostly, I learned to heal myself and to kill everyone else. Show it to me, let me see the damage that is done."

Marvel Girl has posed:
    Of course Illyana would take that advice, and artfully--

    Completely ignore it.

    Rachel Grey just heaves a sigh to the heavens and rubs her temples. "God dammit, Illyana," she mutters, because it makes it easier for her to try not to laugh at what is very clearly a serious situation in need of serious attention. "Sorry, Hisako. ... But, uh, you can't just... soft ball them in like that."

    Not that she's much help.

    Hands planting into the mattress beneath her, Rachel leans back a bit, one boot-clad leg crossing over the other as she turns her gaze ceiling-wards. "She's not wrong, though," she amends, after a moment. "Darkseid is, like... the Alpha-Predator of the cosmos. His power is great." Her eyes squeeze shut, leather squeaking on leather as her legs shift. "You need to be more careful. Okay? This is the kinda stuff that gets people killed. You were..." How does she put this without sounding dismissive of Hisako?

    "... you were really lucky," no, that doesn't sound much better, and she just curses herself and tries to find a way to soften the blow.

    And stays relatively quiet, because she can't.

    So, the redhead just watches with a perpetually wary kind of stare as Illyana bends over, her stare tracking back towards Hisako to nod in the Russian's direction as if to quietly urge her over. "... Yeah. Mending's not really much of a specialty for me either. Sorry. Illy can take care of you. Probably." That ought to inspire confidence.

Armor has posed:
Hisako's face gets even more stony and disapproving when Illyana discovers her inadvertent confession(?). "Gh," she says, lacking a rebuttal more coherent than the one Rachel might be able to pick up in her head: 'that's what your MOM said!'

Why does THAT occur to her?

3.5 YEARS AGO, IN THE BACKGROUND OF HISAKO'S HEARING

"I can't believe Wolverine's being this rough on us."
"I hear Wolverine was rough on your mom!"

3 YEARS AGO, SAME

"I'm really starting to get hold of this."
"Like I got hold of your mom!"

2.5 YEARS AGO, DITTO

"Limbo... it was like this vast spreading plane of fire and choking stench."
"So did it remind you of YOUR MOM?"

1 YEAR AGO, STILL IN THE BACKGROUND

"I can't believe Miss Grey is dead -"
"Yeah, like your m-BLUHHH!!!"
"... ah, thanks, Hisako -"
"Don't mention it."

NOW

Hisako listens even so. Illyana seems to know more about this Darkseid guy than the Justice League did, although, Hisako reasons to herself, she mostly spoke to that weird green guy and Aquaman, and they were both busy, and also she has no idea what Aquaman thinks of mutants, even if he didn't obviously want to be rude after things.

Illyana gets up and /forces/ Hisako to look up at her by virtue of being in calf-murdering heels. HOW CRUEL. "OK," she says.

"They said it was going to be bitchingly nasty without surgery so a scar is already an improvement," Hisako then says, unfastening the velcro restraint and setting it aside on the bed, off to one side. The bandages take a while to come off and they add the smell of chemistry and cold, wounded flesh to the air.

"It's also like, kind of -" There is a flicker and then a strut of red force beneath it, with tight loops at wrist and elbow, which seem to ease Hisako's momentary rise in pain. "Broken? But that's probably easier." The dressings are picked carefully off; a lot of iodine and one particularly nasty white patch on the back.

I guess they're going to get smoke on it no matter what, Hisako thinks queasily, before she looks at Rachel then, attending to her, like a good schoolgirl, as she explains the power of Darkseid.

"I understand," she says to her then, with a calm steadiness that is not flirtatious at all.

Back to Illyana, Hisako says, "So I guess you can see - like, where it was worst? I kind of splinted it like I'm doing now, but in the full armor, so..."

Hisako trails off. Rachel can clearly see the look of consternation mingled with shock and awe as she sees just how these boots and pants are assisting Illyana's backside, like some sort of booty-englobing secondary mutation.

Magik has posed:
    "There are those," Illyana says while she watches Hisako undress (her bandages), "Who would have you believe that magic is language. Say the words, cast the spell, tweak your silly little mustache and let the world marvel at your cape. That is a lie."
    There comes the scent of ozone and a flash of light, and the world is gone; in its place, there *are* columns of flame, there *are* demons skulking about, there *is* a throne. Rachel finds herself on a throne sofa of black leather; Hisako, well, just finds herself standing there in front of Illyana.
    Who is now clothed, so-called, in what amounts to white silk draped loosely around her buxom form, white gloves of rubber, thigh-high boots with ballet heels shaped as cloven hooves.
    "Magic is fire and sweat and tears and pain and fucking. That this is my domain will spare you the brunt of it, lucky Hisako." The tips of Illyana's gloves are formed against long, sharpened nails; she tips a finger against the bottom of Hisako's chin. "For now."
    Without a moment's notice, she has taken hold of Hisako's wrist (the rubber is cold, despite how very thin and how very tight it is) and is pulling; the Japanese girl feels the grind of her bones moving until aligned as before broken, and a cold burn radiating outwards as they fuse together.
    Letters of fire flicker in the air, there and gone so quickly it's hard to say they are anything but a figment of the imagination. Illyana's lips are overdose blue, a shade impossible to mistake for any other - she leans down, fanged teeth biting open the inside of her mouth; her blood flows out to cover Hisako's forearm, molding like a cast before it grows thick, congeals, flakes away to leave only a patch of flesh that yes yet to see sun behind.

    Blood trickling down her chin, Illyana releases the girl's wrist and rests her hands against the dramatic swell of almost-completely-revealed hips. "There. I am a good X-Man, yes?"

Marvel Girl has posed:
    Rachel reads thoughts. That's not so much a declaration of her capacity to, so much as a declaration that she sort of actively does it all the time. Part of it is just a lack of fine control; the other part is just the simple fact that when you know what someone's thinking, you can see what's coming before it does. Simple survival instincts in a world where survival is key.

    All this to say, Rachel sees every little thing that's passing through Hisako's mind -- she's just too polite to say anything.

    "... What? That's what your mom s--"

    ... or she just hasn't heard anything worth commenting on until now.

    But before she can finish her thought, there's a spark of light, a twist of magic along the seams of reality. It takes her by surprise enough that her reaction is almost completely subconsciously inspired. By the time they fine themselves amongst boiling flames and skulking fiends, Rachel is already perched on the edge of what is now a throne of leather, flames sprouting at her limbs, ruby lips twisted in a violent sneer, and eyes pure white for a few flickering moments.

    And then it settles in where they are about when she sees Illyana in all her rubbery ballet-heeled glory. A second of silence passes.

    "You didn't see--" she begins as her eyes blink, and green irises return, "Nevermind. Just -- ignore me. Dammit, Illy. Next time... warn me or something, I seriously can't--" Her sentence breaks with the shake of her head as she just falls back into that sofa, trying to reassert that relaxed veneer she had so just managed before as her nerves stand on edge. "... whatever. Just... fix her already."

    And so she does, and Rachel watches as Illyana goes about it in the most visceral manner possible, red brows lifting as that blood pours and heals in turn. Lips pursing in consideration, she edges across the sofa slowly to get a closer look.

    She doesn't comment about whether Illyana is a good X-Man or not. She just asides, mildly, "Hisako is really into your boots. Like... really into them."

    Again. Probably less to do with politeness.

Armor has posed:
Mission success! part of Hisako thinks. She's going to be able to get this done. She won't be helpless, nor will she be left at a disadvantage even if she does end up in the Mansion during the rest of this crisis.

Hisako looks at Illyana as she speaks. There is a certain polite incomprehension as Illyana explains the nature of magic, and then comes LIMBO! HOT AND THROBBING!

Hisako was in Japan during the last incident. Her eyes widen as she looks around, the sight of demons and the sight of Illyana appearing in the form of a silk-drapped rubber-gloved queen of fetish Hell competing to make her look all the more shocked. Then Illyana touches her chin with a nail and it feels

weird

and she tries not to think about it. "Ah," she says, but then her arm's been gripped and held. The skeletal lattice of an arm brace she put together with her mutant power disappears, and Hisako closes her eyes and tries not to think about the stink of sweat and sulfur and polished rubber in her nose as her arm is pulled back and OUT and oh fuck she's ripping it off, Hisako thinks, her muscles tightening, thighs clenching, back knotting to steel suitable for Illyana's brother - at least, to Hisako's feeling -

And it passes. Hisako breathes, eyes half-opening.

Then Illyana bites her lip and leans down to bleed on her.

It's warm, thick, dripping. The skin there screams for a moment before there isn't really anything for a fleeting period but that /blood/ feeling, a couple of stray droplets plopping on the ground. Hisako makes a fist suddenly, after the blood coagulates with such speed, and the scablands of unsanitary sorcery rip apart. It flakes off like rust from a machine left in the rain for a human lifetime.

Hisako feels dirty; it isn't in a bad way. She raises her arm up, the creamlike pallor of the skin underneath way better than the huge hideous weal she had been half-fearing, a twisted red hell-smear. Her other hand comes up to touch the skin there, gingerly, but -

It doesn't hurt at all.

"Yeah," she answers Illyana breathlessly annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd there's Rachel.

Hisako's face turns red. "Rachel, jeez!"

Back to Illyana. The spell has, in a sense, been broken, or at least put into abeyance. Maybe she did that on purpose, Hisako thinks, but why? Is she jealous or something??

"Thank you," she says to Illyana.