One Armored Bikini

June 06, 2015:

Poolside discussions can sometimes get serious.

Xavier Institute - Pool

Xavier's Institute grounds are located on 1407 Graymalkin Lane in
Westchester County between Graymalkin Lane itself and Breakstone Lake (30
miles outside of NYC itself). A large portion of this is acres upon acres of
woodland forest. To the farthest eastern portion of the Institute's grounds
there is a stretch of low foothils.
Upon entering the Institute grounds immediately past the heavy gated
entrance one finds themselves on a carefully paved road that splices in two
directions, west and east.

The west leads to the School for Higher Learning where gifted youngsters are
educated and taught to use their unique talents. Here almost year around
children and teachers are housed.

To the east miles away lies Xavier's Mansion where Professor Xavier himself
and some faculty members of the school live. These "special" individuals are
those aware of Xavier's more clandestine operations, the adminstration and
training of the X-Men.
Beyond the neatly walled mansion's yard in those foothills is an obscure
landing strip that leads to a hangar complex and a subtly hidden facility. A
facility that houses underground sublevels, a danger room, Cerebro and the
training halls of one of the most advanced mutant fighting teams in the

An underground monorail connects the School for Higher Learning with the
Charles Xavier's Mansion and the X-Men's Hidden Complex. Security is tight
in this region, by means of limited magical warding, advanced future tech
security systems and telepathic sweeps. Tread carefully.


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The pool on the X-Men grounds was back up, still cold due to the freshness and lack of summers full heat to warm its depths, but it had no effect on her and pushed Rose to exert herself to warm - although the advanced physiology had her metabolize it faster as well. A discussion with Nate that was much needed was had, and when he finally wandered off she lapped the pool several times and climbed out of its depths to gather her towel from a bench and dry off, starting with the wringing of her hair.

I was early, so early the sun had yet to rise and the silent hour had crept in. Stars still visible but birds are starting to chirp and foretell the rise of the sun before it ever breaks the horizon. These hours were the best, the world is still and your thoughts could be heard or serenity could be had.

Rose is clad in a black and silver bikini, red strings keeping it tied at hips and criss crossed along her back like crimson marrings on an already heartily scarred canvas. Despite her age it is aparent she has been tried, and every memory permanent like tally marks.

Lunair, on the other hand, totally lacks an advanced physiology aside from the ability to contemplate Rose being part polar bear or something. At an 8th grade level. That's pretty advanced. Nevertheless, she totally accidentally binged on video games and is now considering crawling literally back to her room. For now, the crawling is metaphoric. Or symbolic. She fell asleep during that lecture.

Also, she's college aged and keeps weird hours. What she gets up to is anyone but a telepath's guess. Either way, she has on a fuzzy purple and black wizard robe and is blearying her way to greatness— and by greatness, she means sleep. Somehow, she gets turned around and wanders in to the pool area. There's a long pause, noticing Rose. She kind of double takes, blinking slowly. Looking around. Blinking again. Back to Rose. Eyerub. "Oh. Oh WOW. I am so sorry. I totally interrupted your zen moment." Hawkward. "Hi!"

Rose does not stop toweling through her hair, even as mismatched gaze darts up to Lunair and remains on her, a partial smile touching lips while she straightens and gives aonce over of Lunair's attire, a single brow hiking up with an unasked inquiry, the assumption already made.

"I never figured a walking arsenal watches Cute Kittens (tm), and has fuzzy wizard pj's. But then again, I kind of like Fuzzy Puppies and an oversized cashmere sweater." Rose handles the moment like it was nothing but ordinary, and to her, it was. Life is handled casually, and if Lunair can kill people with her, Lunair can see her having a personal moment in a bikini.

Lunair blinks, and smiles back. She looks quietly amused a moment. "I like kittens," She agrees. "I think I like things because I couldn't before." And she just likes them. Plus, it beats thinking about HYDRA and work as usual. Who knows? She rubs the back of her head a moment. "It must be an awesome sweater." She smiles wryly. It is more ordinary than her shenanigans in Gotham, at least. Progress!

Lunair takes a lot of joy in many thiings. It's just how she rolls. "That bikini is awesome on you," She offers. Lunair does think it's pretty cool. "How are you?"

"Aside from the usual? I am well." Rose could empathize with many things Lunair could, but she can also be left in wonder to the girls own broken history. There's a kinship in picking up the pieces sometimes. Or a rivalry, one that begs the question….

"When I mentioned who my father was, The Terminator - The look on your face." Rose pauses, a moment of thought and a flush at the compliment passing beneath the veil of slick strands of white. "I noticed the look on your face. You know him. How?"

Let the pasts be the pasts, as sordid as they are or may be, but here, Rose did not have one, and this was new grounds for so many questions.

When she asked though, that gaze of ice and static snow settles on Lunair without that hard edge, instead a curiosity lacking accusation or a hard edge.

Lunair empathizes in her own way, though she's also desperately stunted in a good number of ways. She's got to forge her pieces and figure it all out. She doesn't seem to see a rival in Rose, probably because she figures Rose is aces at face stabbing and also she's a friend. Lunair is odd sometimes.

A lot of times. Then Rose starts talking and Lunair listens. There's a headtilt. Her eyes widen a bit. Rose noticed. Then again, that too, is a downside of having resting neutral face. Her poker face is abysmal. She pauses at the question. "… yeah. Yeah." She rubs the back of her head. "Well, for one, his reputation. I d—" Hesitate. "Diiiiiiiid a lot of mercenary work. Nowadays, not so much." But she didn't stop completely. Ahem. "So the dude is serious business and quite frankly I hope never to be on the target list," She holds her hands up, palms out. Seriously. Not a list she wants to be on. "Also I miiiiiight have shot a laser cannon at him when he was chasing a friend of mine. Just a little." Pause. "A lot. Kinda. And I saw him a time or two." She's trying to remember. Think, Lunair, think.

Rose's look is unmoving. She has a natural resting bitch face #r.b.f, but it seems as Lunair speaks moreso, and how she does it slowly begins to dissipate a huff of laughter finally and she shakes her head, pulling the white hair over her shoulder just before she wraps herself in the towel, tucking the ends to hold. "You should take up swimming, it kills the time between jobs, and helps me regroup." A slight gesture towards the pool and then she claims the bench, leaving ample room for Luna if she so chose.

"Did? You sound unsure." A wry twist of Rose's lips in that lopsided grin while those eyes assess her, from toe to head. "I still do. It is, afterall, in my blood." A light tilt of head and she thinks, then proceeds. "So then nothing has changed here all too much." Beat. "Don't shoot to kill him. I like you, and I'd like to stay friends."

Well, there's laying it out on the table, at least… Until she sees him for herself and affirms things… Depends on the day, she may do it herself.

Lunair figures Rose is just more serious. Sure, Lunair is serious when on task and generally handles specific directions. But left to her own devices, she tends to cause a bit of mischief. Still, she tilts her head at Rose and grins as Rose laughs just a bit. "Really?" She seems genuinely curious. She will move to sit nearby, as offered.

"Well, I did. And blood is strange. Is it our origin that defines us? I don't even know if I exist as people who are born do or if I am a laboratory project," She admits. "I don't know anymore," She seems uncertain. "But I can see the resemblance. I mean, you both really like swords." Pause. "But you are Rose." It's meant, in an awkward way, in a cheerful way. Then a beat. "I think I'd more have to worry about getting stabbed in the face. A lot. So don't worry. I'd probably just run off," She promises. "And I would like to stay friends, too. Just mind his taser. It looked pretty bad. I feel bad I got my friend zapped." Sad.

One leg crosses over the other and Rose leans forward, her hand gripping the edge of the bench, white hir hanging in long damp vines to slide over bare shoulders and arch from the cascade to the place down her back. All the while that mismatched gaze wanders back to Lunair. "No, it is about knowing who you are and being comfortable with where you fit." Pausing Rose mulls over her words to Lunair before she goes on.

"What you were meant to be never turned out because you have the freedom of choice and a mind of your own. If my mother had her way, I may have ben a very pristine whore that could kill people bedouin style. If my father had his way… Where I was from… I'd be like him. Exactly like him. We are what we are, but what I am comfortable with is simply who I am. I have my own code, I wont stop being me. -MY- blood. It's why I am curious about my father here, but think this team I proposed, would fit. With you."

Nate's return has her leaning back slowly and accepting the beer to open the can with her teeth, following it up with a long pull. "The joke was Lunair shooting at my… Deathstroke with a laser cannon.

Glancing back to Lunair both brows rise and she /has/ to ask. "Did your friend piss hisself?" Tasers and people make for funny end scenarios… "I mean, hope they're okay." Eyeshift, sip.

"No one," Lunair replies to Nate, pausing. "Yet. I think she's still unarmed," Lunair offers helpfully. That's obviously being wry. "And I haven't started making bad puns, either." Not /yet/. Then again, she looks back to Rose. "I don't really know that. I have to figure it out," She admits. "I lived in a room or a lab, with negative air pressure. I remember really wanting to see what the sun felt like on my hands." And that might be part of why she takes so much joy out of just /being/. Her fingers wriggle.

"I hope so. The idea of being someone's pet lab project is unnerving," She admits. Then she tilts her head. "How does a pristine whore work? Like, this whore is in mint condition but that one has a bent corner, so you should keep them in the plastic cases…" She seems baffled. "… what's a Bedouin? I can google this safely?"

Baffling! But Lunair seems sympathetic. She looks to Rose, "Oh." She looks thoughtful. "Well. It's brave of you, and I'm glad." She really is. She does seem quietly fond of Rose in her own way. Also, the idea of Deathstroke being a noun and a verb makes her giggle. "Y-yeah, sorry. I'll just - grab my friend next time." Then a pause. Lunair's eyes widen. "I - … didn't check, I was in power armor at the time. I think checking just would've made it weird. How does Iron Man even handle that sort of thing?" She contemplates this.
"And hi, Nate. How are you?"

"Oh. Deathstroke." Nate has yet to have the pleasure. But he is already rather wary about it. The influence Rose's father has over her is startling considering how little time they have actually been together. "Hey, Luna," he directs the brunette. Then he takes a seat at Rose's side and opens his own beer can, leaving the rest close by. They will go over them sooner than later. "I see it is one of those conversations, hmm?" He is just going to listen, seriously.

Rose is mid-sip when Lunair starts inquiring about the whore-preserving system works.

*SPRAY* "Oh god…" Rose's hand is over her face while she is untucking the towel to wipe off her face and mouth. "It's in my sinuses.." *Sniff* But Lunair keps going and doesn't help it, instead Rose just sits there with the towel over her face and beer can clasped between her knees. The bits of laughter are shown in the tremble of shoulders.

"Hundreds of years ago kings' queens would hire the Bedouin whores to slowly kill the king if they were displeased with him while they slept with him. Very discreet, very tactful. Not what Deathstroke is.. Mostly."

Though Nate's tone has Rose flipping the subject, it's a touchy one there, and one she cannot even fully define in familial relationship. "It is also basically summing up this team I proposed. The one for people like us, the ones that do have a code be it morally wobbly," A waffling gesture with out-held palm. "But we do what we must and what is right…. At least by our standards. I know you may be what you are do to your past, but that day on the front lawn when CADMUS attacked, you reacted out of necessity with force, no hesitation. Can you do that more regularly?"

Seriously. There's gotta be a whole system and rankings there. Lunair giggles. "Sorry," She looks apologetic. "I just hadn't heard of that and it sounds really complex." Pause. She doesn't keep going, not wanting poor Rose to lose more drink. Then she listens. There's a blink. "Wow. That's one hell of a complaint box," Seriously. Owch! She doesn't push the subject.

Instead, she waves to Nate. "My moral code… I dunno, I never really sat down and defined it," Lunair considers. "Other people seem more bothered by things than I do and I try to respect that. But in the end, people aren't as far from animals as they'd like to think. We simply decide which one of us achieves our goals. I too, will one day be killed. Probably violently. That's how it goes, I guess. But I'd prefer violence to something awkward like choking during sexy times or something. Even if I'd be in a better mood." Chintap.

Nate laughs when Rose does the beer spray thing. Oh look, the things you learn every day. Bedouin whores. Oh wait… Rose can do what? Maybe he shouldn't be laughing. No. It is funny. Even with the choking in sexy times.

"I don't know…" the whole killing, not killing. "I have done some thinking about it lately. But it is some about how much you are willing to forgive, some about how much you really think people can change, and mostly if it is worth the risk to leave some scumbag alive in the chance he can become a human being worth shit. I guess the place where I'd put the line is pretty vague right now."

"I am not asking you to define morals. I cannot even define my own at times. But I do know when to act, how to act, and what needs to be done and will do it. what I am asking is, will you?" Now Rose sits back, dragging the towel of herself and discarding the beer-spit covered cotton off to the side after snapping it at Nate for good measure… Because he laughed at her choking misery.

"Everyone dies, but ti is their choice and decisions they make on how. You do stupid shit that earns you enemies, or has you chasing people where children are concerned…. You sign your death warrant. Darwinian law prevails. We'll just make you into one of his grab bags if you fuck up."

Tugging her hair back and over one shoulder, the whole process comes to a stop when Lunair mentions being asphyxiated with pizzazz. Slight throat clearing. "I'd die that way. Sign me up. Don't tell anyone what happened, just let my obituary write itself by imaginations."

Looking at Nate, Rose tips her head and nods slightly. "This is not about killing willy nilly, its about knowing when it is simply time to bring and end to something, by whatever means necessary. It's not just someone elses life at stake, its our own. The ante is just… upped."

Lunair smiles as Nate laughs. She tries not to giggle. Maybe he has to worry about that more than she does. Ahem. Still, she settles quiet to listen. "Life is kinda vague," She notes. "I tried really hard, so hard, to live a normal life but people kept coming to dart me and stuff. A part of me does not wish to accept it, but a part of me realizes I will always be fighting." Pause. "They even darted my pizza." Seriously. Trials and tragedy here!

"A lot of it is context. I got in trouble for double tapping with a rocket, but Mr. Plasma Sunbutt didn't." SIGH. "So who knows? I think making enemies or being a slaughter monster is absurd, that is true," She seems to agree with Rose on that. "Sometimes, Mr. Wolf needs to die." That's ominous. Then a giggle at Rose. "Okay," She promises. "If we have to write one, we'll try to make it awesome. But I hope it never comes to that."

Nate smirks at being snapped. "Have another?" He offers. He brought the beer, some gratitude would be nice, too. "Dunno, Rose. If it is just my life it is at stake… ah, I think we are overthinking. Each case is going to be different anyway." He stands up, "no swimsuit, Luna? Tsk." He steps forward and dives into the water.

Gratitude?? What planet did he grow up on?? Tch. A small smirk plays upon lips as he makes his way back to the pool.

Leaning towards Lunair Rose mutters. "The path we take is just not easy to define. It didn't start right, and we just do what we have to. In the end, we know it is what -had- to be. We are animals, afterall."

Rising the scar riddled flesh of Rose's is far more visible in the black and silver bikini, life does that to them though, and she is basically signing up to make more, and asking for friends and those trusted to be there when it happens. "Got an armor swimsuit?" Rose inquires casting a glance back to Lunair before she dies her own small dash to handspring off the edge of the pool and flip into it, cannon-balling Nate.

How's that for gratitude?

Lunair looks quietly amused by Nate. Then a pause. "Wait, I can make clothes." Oh duh. Fortunately, she's smart enough to make a vintage one piece, complete with bow /before/ anything comes off. "I think it's tough for a lot of people," Is all she offers. "I wouldn't know," She admits. She shrugs. Lunair doesn't seem bothered in the slightest by Rose's scars.

She doesn't seem to have quite as many, though some look more medical than battle wounds. She doesn't know why they made her live. She doesn't. "And I don't tell people I can make clothes and keys because then I can't get in trouble for it." She giggles as Rose cannonballs Nate.

Lunair, however, steps in. Carefully. One toe at a time.

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