4553/Love is a Battlefield.

Love is a Battlefield.
Date of Scene:	31 May 2018
Location:	Andrea's Condo in Manhattan
Synopsis:	Andrea and Mason have the talk that was two years in the making. Her powers are finally revealed.
Cast of Characters:	Rage, Mason Steele

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Rage has posed:
It's mid-afternoon and Andrea is at home making some lunch. She gave Mason a few texts to try and lure him over to hang out. After last night, she was still riding a giddy high of being able to spend time with him, even at times it was a bit awkward. Being a celebrity in the public eye makes it hard to be 'normal' and enjoy some chill and conversation.

This morning though since she woke up, all she could think about is the set list for Tony's party coming up. It's going to be huge, a big deal and she wants to make sure this wil be pulled off without a hitch. She has a stack of papers on the kitchen table of various songs and compliations to inspire her. Dresed in a pair of snug denim jeans with some destroy upon them and a baggy NYU top that hangs off a shoulder, she is making a triple decker PB&J in her ktichen, humming along to the music from a speaker dock. She /may/ have Mason's album up and playing one of her favorite songs from it.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason, while he is dressed fashionably, is hardly dressed to impress. He has a pair of cargo shorts and a white Mets jersey on with three buttons on the collar. He rings the doorbell, having brought only a thin 2 in 1 tablet with him. His phone is blowing up with texts, and he pulls his phone from his pocket to look at it, frowning.

Rage has posed:
The door opens up to reveal a grinning Andrea as she steps to the side to let him in. "Hey!" She calls out as she taps the volume down on her phone so that the speaker can cut out the music. "I'm making sandwiches if you want one." She leans in to give him a quick hug, then trots off to the kitchen on her bare feet that plods along the smooth marble flooring. "How you doing today?"

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason doesn't return the hug, shoving the phone back into his pocket. It dings again. "Uh, sure," he says, following her in. "I'm doin' fine, y'know. Just been workin' on a piece for composition class, trying to figure out how we both got invited to Tony Stark's birthday party." He glances down at her bare feet, "Looks like you haven't been going far today," he comments, and pauses. Is she playing his album?

Rage has posed:
"You really are trying to figure out how the two biggest popstars in the industry who just had over three million impressions on the Internet in the last two days got invited to Iron Man's party?" Andrea giggles as she picks up her plate of stacked sandwich and a glass of milk. "Maybe because we're sorta a big deal and he's rich and he likes to go over the top? We're not the only two acts there. So I'm not trying to pat myself too hard on the back. Anyways, what's your composition like? Got it on you?"

Mason Steele has posed:
    "Yah, thanks for that," he says in regard to the impressions and her move that put them together in the spotlight again. Sarcasm is thick. He moves on, though. "Piano," he says, "I know it," of course, he very rarely needs to follow music for a piece of music. "But, I left my piano at home, y'know?"

Rage has posed:
There is a bit of a wounded look upon Andrea's face at his sarcasm and she gives a motion of her hand towards the living room where the beautiful grand piano waits next to her cello and an autographed guitar with signatures ranging from Taylor Swift to Britney Spears to Miley Cyrus. She even has a scribble from Pat Benetar and Stevie Nicks. "There you go, use mine. It's tuned. I'd love to hear you play."

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason, being evasive in conflict by nature, looks at the piano, and looks back at Andrea's hopeful request. He was always really bad at saying no to what she wanted, so he shrugs. "Not sure it'll be really your style," he says, "But okay." He goes over to the piano. "A real grand," he says, petting the top. Pianos have always been his favorite instrument. While he usually plays a keyboard on stage, it's no secret to her that he much prefers a real piano.

Rage has posed:
"Yup, a real grand. One of Sir Elton John's restored actually." Andrea says with a small smile on her face. "Mom is obsessed with him and I bought it for her birthday. I love playing it. Really helps take the edge off a long day." She heads over to watch him, sliding down into a chair and reaches over to pluck her guitar up and pull it into her lap.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason arches his brow. "Really?" he says. He doesn't have one of those. He glances at her, notices the guitar, and a slight curl of a smile pops on the left side of his mouth. He gives her a look, indicating that he knows something she doesn't. The chords come in weak, but intense, followed by a complicated progression of melody. This is not a pop song. This is not even a song that is likely to have words to it. It's much more of a classical piece that he is starting. He's played a few times for more cultured scenes, but it's not what most people know him for.

Rage has posed:
As he begins to play, Andrea closes her eyes to soak it in as she drums her fingers along the body of her guitar, tapping the acoustic wood slowly. Her breathing is soft and steady, as if she was meditating through the music, but he would know that this is her way of searching through the notes, to find the story behind it. Her fingers find the strings of her guitar and she begins to play along with him, a slow, gentle plinking to create a whispery tempo in the background of the piano

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason continues to play, and the music starts to transition from a sweet musical introduction to become more aggressive, it becomes tense like a storm gathering before returning to a sweet melody with complications in the chords. It happens again, and the complications increase once again. Mason starts to focus more, as he commonly does when he is particularly thoughtful, watching the front of the piano, not the keys.

Rage has posed:
As the storm rages on, Andrea's breathing takes a hitch and there is a tremble beneath the surface as her fingers pause along the guitar. The top of her skin goosebumps and the hair rises up on end as she looks to smooth it down with a slide of her hand.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason doesn't even seem to notice that she has stopped playing. With each aggressive interjection, the aggression becomes more intense, and the melody, originally sweet, becomes hindered, more accidentals, more minor chords. He starts to sweat a little, hands flying across the keys as if they were a part of his body, his foot pumping the pedals as the piece climaxes with rage, dissonance and fear. It ends abruptly with a staccato that is like leaping from a cliff. The final minor chord echoes as only a grand piano can properly communicate, his breath is hard by now, and he doesn't move for a moment, letting the silence finish the piece.

Rage has posed:
There's a wet, audible sniff from Andrea as she brushes the top of her hand across her cheek to wipe away a couple of tears that has slid down to her chin. Biting on her bottom lip, she gives a few blinks and glances upwards and away to the ceiling, looking as if she is holding back a dam of emotion in her chest. Her hands are trembling as she pushes herself up from the chair and heads for the kitchen.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason turns as he hears the sniff, knitting his brow in confusion. "What?" he asks as she gets up and walks to the kitchen. He didn't even say anything. He slides off the bench, and stands back to his feet, and hesitates, not sure if he should follow or stay where he is.

Rage has posed:
Taking in a deep and shuddering breath, Andrea reaches for a paper towel and wipes at her face and a quick squeeze of her nose. "Nothing, it's nothing." She says in a raspy voice. "Just that it was beautiful, your piece. I was right there with you in it." She takes in a deep breath, then scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. ".. Sorry."

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason seems uncertain how to respond, so he just says, "Thanks." His hands hang slightly out to the sides, as if not certain whether he should be ready to run. "You sure you're okay?" he asks, not entirely convinced he wants to know the answer. He stays rooted where he stands, as if a landmine might be nearby.

Rage has posed:
"I'm fine. Just a bit emotional, that's all. You know how I get around music sometimes. It's why we're artists. We connect. It's what makes it really good." Andrea says as she gives another dab at the corner of her eye, then heads over to him again. "You're so talented, Mason." She says with a smile touching her lips.

Mason Steele has posed:
    "Andy," Mason says, scratching the back of his neck. "I know you want 'us' to be together again. I don't know why, you still think I cheated on you. I'm not your type. I made you break with your values, I'm the corrupting influence. I don't know what to make of.../this/." he gestures the space between them. "I'm just not good for you. I'm not good for a lot of people. I don't stand up and fight for the downtrodden. I don't do big charities unless I'm told I'm supposed to." He shakes his head. "I'm a shallow jerk, you don't want this. You really don't."

Rage has posed:
As he speaks, Andrea's brows raise upwards a bit higher. "Okay, I don't know where /that/ came from, just because I wanted to give you some positive reinforcement of your music. It was a beautiful piece. Sometimes a compliment /is/ a compliment. But, since you went there, let me correct a few things. You don't know what my type is, Mason, and you didn't break any values of mine. I knew /exactly/ what I was doing when you and I got together and things got heavy and then we did al that extracurricular stuff. You didn't push me to do anything I didn't want to. We were both two, young, wound up teens under Disney's thumb living a sheltered life and we rushed into something crazy fast.

There is a long sigh from Andrea, then she says, "And you keep saying that, that you didn't cheat on me. And .. maybe I wasn't fair to you, to listen to your side. I saw what I saw and I jumped to conclusions. I /saw/ you with her. Your mother let me into the house, told me you had a guest over and I went upstairs and I saw you in bed with her. You... you /smirked/ at me, with this shit eating grin on your face. Your mother didn't even look concerned when I ran out of the house. I know she never really liked me .. but .. you'd think.. I don't know..." She trails off. "And you are not a shallow jerk. You're sixteen and rich and successful. But that song you just played." She points to the piano. "That is the real you. That is who you are. Not .. this facade." She makes a motion of her hand. "And I knew who you were back then too. I'm sorry I fucked it all up with that stupid song. A song I refuse to play at any concert. A song that I feel sick and guilty about. I didn't know it would cause that type of wave. I didn't. I was fourteen, Mason. I was mad. I was upset. I was in love with you. I'm just.. I'm sorry."

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason stands like a rock for several seconds, so still he might be mistaken for a mannequein. There is something unnatural about it, something not human. When he moves, it's almost like a stone coming to life. "I know what happened that day," he says. "You don't. I can't even tell you what actually happened, because you wouldn't believe it. I was afraid then, and it feels too late to bother now."
    He knocks his knuckle against the edge of the piano. "But what the hell, I'm tired of the truth not being known, and now that you..." he inspecifically gestures to the world around. "Are a mutant..." the word isn't said with distain, but a certain resignation. "I guess I don't have to worry about you writing another song about it." It's not designed to be a cutting remark, but knives can cut whether you intend them to or not. "My mom is a mutant." He lets that beat strike. "A telepath, to be more specific. You're right, she never liked you. Thought you would get in the way of me focusing on music. I wasn't home when you came by that day. I was out getting ice cream with Brandon." He shrugs. "So there it is. I don't think she expected what happened. She just wanted you out of the picture."

Rage has posed:
As she listens to him, Andrea's fists curl up tightly as she wheezes out a loud breath. "But.. but ... w... why didn't you tell me? God.. Mason.." She says with a whimper in her throat. "I knew I was a mutant since I was dating you. If you would have told me.. if.. " Her voice breaks into a sob as she sinks down to her knees. Her entire body gives a shudder as she clutches at her head, fingers sinking deep into her hair. The news seems to have really shaken her up as she squeezes her eyes shut. Her breathing has grown heavy and quick as she begins to hyperventilate. It seems that the entire universe just dropped on to her shoulders.

Mason Steele has posed:
    "I didn't know you were a mutant!" Mason answers in frustration, diving down to his knees in front of her and taking her by the shoulders, as if to catch her. For some reason, there is a whiff of topsoil for just a moment. "If I told you, would you have believed me?" He shakes his head. "Would you have written a song about her instead of me? What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, my mother mind controlled you into thinking I was kissing another girl. That really didn't happen.'" He shrugs his hands helplessly. "Would you have believed that? I wouldn't. It sounds too convenient an excuse. And if you did believe it, I was afraid that you..." he gestures to the platinum records on the wall, "Might do something drastic. I couldn't tell you. I just couldn't. And so I didn't say anything, and...well, we both know the rest."

Rage has posed:
Throwing her arms around him, Andrea leans into him as she cries, burying her face into his shoulder. Her entire body is shaking, her voice trembling out to him. "I would have believed you." She says in a strained voice that borders on a growl. He can feel a ripple tremble in her body from beneath her clothes. With a hiss, she pushes herself back away from him, stumbling to her feet as she starts for the hall that leads to her bedroom. "This is my fault. This is all my fault." She rattles off in a growling tone in her throat.

Mason Steele has posed:
    "Andrea," Mason says, scrambling to his feet after her. "I know you didn't know." He feels an odd role reversal from what their dynamic has been. "If people found out that my mother was a mutant. Was a telepath that used her power to get her son into the limelight? Do you have any idea what people would do to her? What she did was wrong, I just couldn't tell anyone. You know I couldn't." Perhaps an insight to just how he was so devastated by the situation, and an insight as to what drove him as far as attempted suicide. He stops at the bedroom doorway, putting both hands up on the doorjam and hanging his head.

Rage has posed:
As she bursts through the room, Andrea lets out a shriek of pain as she hits the ground, curling up into herself as her body gives a visible shudder, her voice coming out as a growl. "Run." She croaks out as she looks over her shoulder to him as black fur sprouts along her body, her face and body starting to twist with loud, painful cracks that causes her to cry out. She is losing control of her body as her hands dig into the ground, becoming long black talons as her body begins to rapidly bulk up, causing her clothes to stretch, then split. "Rrrrrruuuunnnnn." The voice becoming less human and more monster.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason freezes, "What? Andrea?" Mason stares at the transformation, like a bad car wreck that he just can't look away from. After several seconds delay from the command, he reaches out, trying to grab the door to slam it shut.

Rage has posed:
Within those seconds of him staring at her, Andrea's body contorts visibly as her clothes shred away to reveal her naked frame with fur curling along her body swiftly, a tail jutting out behind her as she gives an arch of her back as the large werewolf ripples into sight. Gold eyes whip towards him for a moment to lock eyes with until the door is slammed shut. There's a couple of loud noises from within the room, followed by a heavy thump and a creak of the bed as loud, pained whimpers are heard carrying through.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason, wide-eyed, just stares at the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He hears the sounds, and then the creak of the bed as he presumes she collapses upon it. He puts his back against the door, running a hand through his hair. He doesn't have a category for what he just saw, and now he's also shaken.

Rage has posed:
A few minutes goes by of nothing but silence from behind the door. There is another creak of the bed, followed by slow, heavy steps towards the door. He can hear heavy breathing from behind it, followed by a light scratching at the door. "Mmmmaaaason..." The guttural snarl comes out from the other side softly. There is a bit of a thump against the wall next to the door, followed by the sound of a heavy body sliding to the floor. Seems that she is leaning against the wall, back to back with him. "Sorrrrrrrr-eeeeee.. I. am. a. frrrrrrrreak."

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason's heart starts to slow a little when he hears her speak. "I'm sorry." He answers. "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't know." He sits for several seconds. "I...do you want me to go?" he asks, feeling awkward to stay or to leave, he's not sure which idea he likes less right now.

Rage has posed:
"No. Please.. don't go." The doorknob gives a bit of a rattle, then cracks open a half inch. ".. This is what I am." Each word she speaks is slow and forced out in a growl, as if the vocal chords were not made for it. "I am calm now. Don't be scared. Please." The growling voice is pleading. If he turns to look, he will be able to see the large black frame peeking back at him with gold eyes. She's large, covered in fur, with shining gold eyes.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason does dare to look. He pushes the door the rest of the way, slowly, and he gets up to his feet. He looks over the wolfish figure, "I...I didn't know," he says. "Does it hurt?" he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. As if by instinct, he reaches out to pet her on the head slowly.

Rage has posed:
The large lycan is crouched on the ground to try and not be as imposing over the smaller form of Mason. Andrea leans her head down into his touch, rubbing her snout in against him as she breathes in his scent. "Yes." She confirms to him. "Hurts. Bad." She reaches out with a large, powerful arm and draws it around him, pulling him in a bit closer so that she can push her cheek against his chest and hug him gently. She makes sure to keep the razor sharp claws away from his skin. As she breathes, she sighs out a soft whine under her breath as she nuzzles him.

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason blinks as he is dragged in for the hold, but he doesn't fight it. He doesn't figure he could. He gently pets her head, "It's okay," he says. "It's gonna be okay." Mason has never been good at being serious, and to attempt to lighten the mood, he makes a joke. Probably an inappropriate one. "When everything happened, I did think you were a bitch," he says. "I never knew just how right I was."

Rage has posed:
Jerking her head backwards, Andrea's ears flatten against her skull. Her lips curl back into a bit of a growl, then she leans in and gives him a long, wet lick along his cheek, huffing out hot breath against his skin. "Mine." She growls to him. "Claimed." Is she being serious? "I need to shift out, it will hurt and I will be naked. Close your eyes. Do not peek."

Mason Steele has posed:
    Mason winces as the giant tongue licks his face. "What was that?" he asks, wiping his face. "Did you really just lick me?" He shakes his head. "Okay, I'll just, you know, go back out here," he says, trying to step out of the door. "You can...do your thing."