7742/Blonde Sorceress needs Sustenance!

Blonde Sorceress needs Sustenance!
Date of Scene:	05 June 2019
Location:	Kitchen - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Magik, X-Man

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Magik has posed:
The kitchen. Everyone had to come here sometime, and in this case it's Illyana's turn. After spending a good amount of time in her room meditating, and then being bored, she finally emerged to seek sustenance that wasn't related to her magical side. Tugging the fridge open she does what all do at some point in their life... She stands there and stares at it hoping to find some solution to her problem, wants, and desires while letting the cold air wash over her.

At least that part was nice. It was rather warm so that wasn't bad. Wasting the energy likely was.

Sighing she reaches in to grab a container of sliced salami to peel it open and pop a slice between her lips. "Mm. Not bad," she mumbles chewing on it half in her mouth, half still slowly working it's way inside through the motions of lips and teeth.

X-Man has posed:
    It seems that Nate, too, was of the same mind as Illyana, as not long after she slips the salami into her mouth, the door pushes open to allow the young, two-toned hairdo sporting Psionicist entrance. From the looks of things, X-Man has just been working, as he's foregone his usual shirtless neo-hippie or slob look. Instead, he's donning a form fitting blue leather jumpsuit, bearing a white X shape across his lithesome torso, that meets below his hips and above the shoulders to form the same pattern across the back, along with white stripes that run down the outside of each arm. He's left the upturned collar unzipped, along with a healthy v-shaped sliver of his torso, which all looks to be holding the faint, glistening sheen of sweat, along with his matted hair.

    Taking a few steps into the room, Nate's head is downturned, casting his gaze at the ground as he heads towards the fridge and almost bumps right into the blonde sorceress. Coming up short, he comes to an abrupt stop and looks up, his eyes widening with a bit of surprise.

    "Hey."

    He lifts one hand, pointing at the open fridge, as if begging her permission, before just helping himself to reach inside and retrieve a bottle of water that he holds against his forehead with apparent relish.

    "I think that meat is my fath--Scott's."

Magik has posed:
"Oh?" Illyana glances down to the container of Oscar Myer sandwich meat with an uplift eyebrow. A step further is taken back to let him have enough room to dive further into the fridge if he wants more than just that bottle of water. As for her? She peels off another slice, folds it into a little triangle, and pops it into her mouth with a salacious grin.

"So do you want some or not?" Another piece is offered up toward him with amusement as she apparently doesn't care whose it was. They didn't put their name on it and she had the munchies. Besides, she could always replace it later with a quick trip to the store.

Unlike him she was dressed rather casually in, of all things, a light pink sundress that showed off her shoulders. They were toned, even muscular, for someone her size. Then again she'd have to have some strength to swing around that sword of hers with any skill.

X-Man has posed:
    Still holding the bottle of water to cool his forehead, Nate peeks open one eye to look at Illyana as if she had insulted his very ancestors with her offer of a piece of ill gained lunch meat.

    He reaches out, snatching two conjoined slices out of the container, shoving them whole into his mouth and chewing defiantly, his stubble-bearded cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's.

    But, not willing to speak with his mouth quite that full, Nate just moves to the counter, turning his back and nimbly hoping up to seat himself on the ledge of it. His booted feet idly kick in the air, heels tapping the cupboard door. His gaze doesn't leave Illyana, though. He looks her over, in that sundress, letting his stare slide down those sweeping shoulders, and the toned musculature of them and her arms. When he looks back up to her eyes, he puts on his best, most charming smile with his cheeks still stetched out to max capacity. But he uncaps his water bottle and tips his head back, drinking deep to wash down his food.

    "Nice dress," he says, without a hint of teasing or irony in his voice, as he lowers the bottle and screws the cap back into place.

Magik has posed:
Illyana Rasputin takes another slice, and then puts the package back into the fridge. She does snag a can of soda herself though. Just a Sprite. Nothing overly special there, but it seemed a nice little refresher to go with something sort of like sausage. "It's almost like Summer Sausage, but not quite. I ought to get some at some point," she muses as she cracks the soda can open to take a long sip. Leaning back against the fridge she watches as he perches atop the counter in that manner with a faint grin.

"I do dress up on occasion. Not as often as I used to, I admit, but it is comfortable. And cool." She pauses a moment before asking, "So what are you doing tonight? Besides getting all stinky." If he could tease she could too.

X-Man has posed:
    "Well," Nate says, tucking his chin in and looking up at Illy with a slow, impish grin forming on his lips. "It belongs to Scott, so, it actually is, technically speaking, Summers' Sausage."

    Yes. He went there.

    As she explains that she does do girlish things, Nate smiles and shrugs one shoulder, lowering his gaze to his dangling feet, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. She justifies it, though, with comfort and temperature control, and Nate shakes his head. "I mean, it's great that it's comfortable and cool and all, but I'm not trying to make you self conscious. It's a nice dress. It looks good on you. The color is a surprise. I always picture you in my mind wearing cool colors. Blues and whites."

    He just openly said that he thinks about her and what she wears. He didn't mean to say that aloud. His mouth snaps shut, lips tucking in on themselves in that embarassingly white people kind of way. Thankfully, she teases him, but about something completely different.

    "Stinky? That's the smell of a real man who's been doing real work, I'll have you know. Someone has to teach these kids how to use their powers. I'm better equipped to do so than most."

    Smirking in a wolfish way, his eyes gleaming with a bit of mirthful mischief, Nate reaches up to the zipper that runs down the front of the costume, and tugs on it, easing it down, past his chest, and down over his ribbling, stone carved abominals. Lifting that bottle of water, he pulls the top off and pours a bit of its contents across the top of his chest, letting it wash down his impeccible, sunkissed form.

    "There, is that better?" He asks, his voice dipping low and deep, almost breathy.

    And then, he snorts. He tries to hold back the laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, but it winds up escaping through his lips in a sound of flapping fart noises before he lets it spill out into open, ringing laughter.

    "Sorry... Man. I... Tried... Hur hur hur, let me wash myself off for you, baby..."

    More chuckling, before he releases a heavy, contented sigh and shrugs a single shoulder. "I got nothing going on tonight. A shower. Obvs. Then... I don't know. It's not like I've got any sort of real life or real friends, you know. I'll probably just chill out in the rec room watching television. Pathetic, I know."

Magik has posed:
With antics like that there's really only one response: A derisive snort at the mention of Summer's Sausage, and a roll of her eyes. Puns. Oh lawd what was she getting herself into? It does earn a smile from the Russian woman though.

"Mm, I used to love dresses when I was younger," she admits. "All colors. Pink, yellow, blue, white. Anything pretty and cute." Ah, but that was long ago and there was a current distraction in front of her currently unzipping the front of his shirt to give himself a water bottle bath.

That earns a laugh from her as she turns to snag one a roll of paper towels off the counter to lob at him. It wasn't a pillow, but it was perhaps more useful in this situation. "You are ridiculous, Nate." It doesn't stop her from smiling though.

"There's nothing wrong with TV. There's a lot out there to keep one occupied. I have been trying to get out more myself, though. Enjoy nature. Go for walks. Meditate. Hunt."

X-Man has posed:
    Nate catches the paper towels in one hand with the smoothness, and peels two off to pat himself down, drying his soaked flesh as he listens to her speak about what it is that she does to pass the time. He does note that she, too, only lists solitary activities. Though perhaps less miserable than his own. She might think there's nothing wrong with it, but it's a symptom of a deeply rooted malaise. He doesn't have a life. He doesn't have friends. He doesn't even know what kind of hobbies and interests he might even have, because he's never had the chance to explore it. He's an outsider. An alien. He feels completely isolated and alone.

    Part of him sees that in her, too. But walking. Meditating. Hunting? Those seem like they might be more healthy than what he does. Maybe. He doesn't know. Looking down as he finishes drying his stomach, he says, "Do you really hunt? Like... actually kill animals? Man, I don't think I could do that as a recreational thing. I've had to hunt to survive before but with my powers..."

    He can feel the pain, the terror, and the moment of death that his prey felt as they breathed their last.

    "They make it hard to deal with."

    He lifts his chin and looks down at her, appraising her as he puts on a small smile. "Still, all of that sounds kind of lonely. Don't you do anything with your friends? Your brother? Do you dance? Play an instrument? Television pretty much tells me that all Russian girls either do ballet or play the violin. Is that true?"

Magik has posed:
"Not as recreation, no. It's..." Illyana looks off a moment out the window as if trying to find the best way to explain it even as she listens to his own remarks. "No. To practice skills I once needed. I don't have to kill them to know I can. But to track, to follow, to get close... Logan does this too. It's not about killing. If you get close enough, that's enough."

A slight smile tugs at her lips as she looks back with a shake of her head. "It's difficult for me to fit in with my friends, even now. They are all so welcoming of course, but I've lived lives outside of this world. My brother..." Again she falters. "It's difficult."

She looks back toward him once again spreading her empty hands out at her side in a helpless shrug. "I spent half my life in Limbo. I was eight... then when I returned, I was fourteen. In the blink of an eye I was no longer his little sister. My parents do not recognize me. I can't go back there again. My brother, Piotr, he has tried but it hurts him to see what I've become. Nearly a monster in his eyes."

"But I go swimming with my friends. We sit and talk. Drink tea with Ororo. I do not dance though nor do I play an insturment. I did not have need of such things in Limbo."

X-Man has posed:
    He listens to her speak of why, and how, she hunts. Just to get close. He could do that. But then, it seems a moot point, when he could just go out into the forest and have the animals come to him like some sort of Disney princess. But for her... Why would she want to keep the skills she needed to survive? He rather enjoys NOT needing to keep his survival skills sharp. Being able to just Door Dash food to him, and have water ON TAP is just like the epitome of luxury.

    She begins speaking of her experiences, and how they've affected her relationships with her friends, and notably with her brother and the rest of her family. As she bares that piece of herself to him, his smile fades, replaced not with pity, but mourning.

    "I'm sorry," he says, taking a step towards her and reaching out. His hands stop, hovering just above her shoulders, before he just balls his fists and lets them fall back to his sides. "That... has to be hard, I'm sure. I guess... I guess I'm lucky, really. I never had a family. Or, well, not like that. Being a literal test tube baby, I never knew my parents. My first father was just... my creator. He made sure to give me things, yes. He wanted me to be a loyal weapon, but I was never his son. And after... I had Forge and the troupe, and Sonique, but..."

    He shrugs, sliding his hands into the pockets of that jumpsuit. "I guess, really, I kind of have it easy. It's just difficult, you know? I've seen all these things... things that people like... Well, like most of the other people here, cannot imagine. I've seen the breeding pits of Sinister, and the bubbling vats of soup that were once human beings, subjected to McCoy's experiments. It's just hard to relate to people."

    He looks down, scuffing on boot on the floor. "But I do know what it's like to feel like the people that mattered to you before now see you as something... else. Something that they can't recognize. It's good that you've made new relationships and friends. It's good that you have your swims and your tea."

Magik has posed:
Illyana Rasputin reaches out to catch hold of his wrist when he pulls away from that touch and stuffs his hands in his pockets. It's held, and she gently tugs it out to let her fingers slide down to his hand catching hold of it in her own. There's still distance between them but the gesture is there as her thumb runs over the back of his hand. "I've had time to adjust. You... have time too, now. That is what's good about this place among many other things: They welcome us all. Even those of us that don't quite fit in. We have a chance to try again."

Her lips quirk into a small smile. "I will always have a part of my soul tied to that place. I can't escape that. What happened, happened."

"I watched my friends be corrupted, and used, and killed for his pleasure. And he who called me his daughter. Apprentice. Consort." Her face twists with a sudden surge of hatred filling her eyes. It was like that first time, when he thought she might yell at him, but didn't. It's beaten down again with her eyes slipping shut to breathe deep.

She's calm when she speaks again.

"You're not as alone as you think, you know."

X-Man has posed:
    When she takes his hands, drawing them out of his pockets, Nate surrenders to her, allowing her to hold them, to explore the ridges and lines of tendon and bone. His fingers lightly curl, gripping back, and he keeps his head down as she speaks, his face largely hidden behind that shock of silvery white bangs. His lips do arc with a small smile, however, when she speaks of how this place is welcoming of the weird, of the outsiders. He gives a faint nod of his head. "I don't feel like I'm not welcome. It's just... I still feel... apart. I'm certain that you mean what you said literally, but... A part of my soul will always be tied to the place where I'm from, as well. It is infused within me. It shaped my very being. It'll never leave me, even if... even if it doesn't exist anymore."

    With her speaking of the things that happened to her, he lifts his head then, so that he can look into her eyes. To see the play of emotion, and even hatred, that washes over her face. His hands gently squeeze hers, and this time it is his thumbs that explore, brushing the backs of her knuckles in tender, tight little circles.

    He remains silent for several long seconds after she proclaims that he's not alone. And then, slowly, he leans in, tilting his head to one side to press his lips to hers in a kiss. Tender and warm, barely even touching at all, as if he's unsure of his actions. A bit on the chaste side. But, he'll linger there, if she allows it, for a few seconds, before he'll slowly break away to open his eyes once again and stare at her, questioningly.

Magik has posed:
Illyana Rasputin sucks in a quick breath that's held as Nate leans down to kiss her. Her hands still hold his as they stand there locked in that moment. It's soft, it's gentle, it's testing. Her eyes slide shut as she just enjoys the moment of it. It was almost innocent in it's way even if she knew there was far more that was far less related to kisses. This was sweet. Soft. Gentle. Something refreshingly unexpected after the life she'd lived. Maybe it was the same for him.

When Nate pulls away her eyes blink open again regarding him with those sharp blue eyes that roam over his face drinking in his expression. Then a slow smile spreads over her. That genuine sort of smile again, sort and warm and full of so much potential to care. Perhaps opening herself up wasn't so bad.

It's her who closes the distance in a quick step that brings the warmth of her body in contact with his. Soft breaths press her against him then ever so slightly back, and then again, and again, as her breath grows quicker with her impulsiveness. A hand breaks from one of his to lift cupping the side of his cheek as she leans in again to deepen the kiss. Just a bit.

After another moment she pulls away again ducking her head down with an almost sheepish blush. "I suppose you're right. I do like you."

X-Man has posed:
    At first, Nate is uncertain of what kind of reaction he might get from the Russian princess. Those sharp, icy blue eyes always look so hard and fierce. Of course, that is actually part of the appeal. As she studies him, he cannot tell if she's about to praise him or throw something at him, and he feels the flutter of that excitement of the unknown in his chest. But then she smiles, and his gaze fixates on her lips as they adopt that expression and dimple her cheeks. And he breathes a sigh of relief.

    As she steps in closer, Nate's spine straightens and his freed hand slides around her side to rest in the dip of her lower back, holding her body to his as she leans in to favor him with further kissing, to which she'll find that he's an eager and willing recipient.

    All good things must come to an end, though, and as she breaks from him once more, looking away with that shyness settling in, Nate still holds one of her hands within his own. Her confession to liking him might have come with an expectation of some light hearted ribbing about it. Some sort of cocksure jest to indicate his unerring confidence. But that never comes. Instead, he lifts that hand that he holds and brushes one more kiss to curves of her knuckles, before lowering it once more.

    "I like you, too."

Magik has posed:
Illyana Rasputin squeezes Nate's hand again with that grin still in place as she regards him. There was no teasing now. Not right now at least. Later there would be... But for now it was too pleasant a moment to ruin with the playful banter she often shared with her friends such as Kitty, and Doug, and the others who had become a second family to her. This was something not to disturb in that manner. Yet.

"You asked earlier, but I believe *this* means we are dating," she points out with a light tease as she just... slides her arm around his back holding lightly, and being held, and nothing more for the moment.

"This is nice."

"Even if you are still damp from the water bottle."

X-Man has posed:
    Yes. This is nice. It's not just that he's kissing a pretty girl after stealing some of his distant psuedo-father-genetic-donor's lunch meat. Nate's been with pretty girls and he's stolen many a slice of salami from the fridge. This is nice specifically because, for the first time, he actually feels like there is someone who, on a really, true and deep level, can understand him. To get him. And that he can feel like he can provide that for them, as well. A real sense of companionship. To say that this is nice is actually a ludicrous understatement. This feels like some sort of levee has broken, relieving a pressure that he had never known he had been bearing.

    He breathes a sigh that sounds content from the depths of his soul. And he gives a slow, silent nod of agreement. He chuckles when she does tease him about being damp, and this prompts him to draw her in closer, wrapping both of his wiry arms about her arms and shoulders, crossing around her back to crush her to him. One hand combs through the poker straight platinum hair at the back of her head, guiding her head to his shoulder. His other hand slowly drifts down until it rests just above her hip, on her side. And he begins to sway and rock, leading her into the movement with him so that, provided she relents, they'll wind up just slow dancing to no music at all there in the middle of the kitchen.