Answering the Summons

December 13, 2016:

Nate Grey brings the elusive Illyana Rasputin to a meeting with Storm. Gambit cameos.

Xavier Institute


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Cyclops


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

As usual the blonde sorceress appeared and disappeared of his sight in the blink of one of those weird stepping disks. Nate has not seen Illyana since she went to find Rogue during the Apocalypse mess. Until now, when he found her spying on the grounds. Well, not technically spying, since she was recognized and authorized by the security systems. Maybe a little lost? Not that she would admit anything.

A quick trip to the cafeteria later, he is taking her to see Storm. "Since Storm is now in charge of the field teams, I think she is the one to go to catch up with what is going on. Besides, she wants X-Red back to the grounds due to the… well, you'll see. The other Illy was with the Reds, got some public attention and probably even some fans." Smirk. Deal with it. He knocks at the office's door, although he has already told Ororo they were coming telepathically.

Illyana was certainly not lost! She'd simply teleported onto the the grounds, rather than right into the Institute proper, just in case the security systems took exception to her presence. She is, after all, not /quite/ the same Illyana that last visited the X-Men's traditional home.

As for spying, though? She might have been doing that. She does so hate to be taken by surprise.

One trip to the cafeteria later, one improbably large burger consumed by the slim demoness, and she's following Nate deeper into the Institute. See how well behaved she is. "I'll see?" Illyana picks up on what Nate doesn't say more than what he does say. "What aren't you telling me, Nate?" She asks in a friendly enough fashion, but there's a slightly sharp look in her eyes as they narrow on him. "Am I going to like it?" There's a sense that she might blame him if she doesn't.

"Fans? Really?" Illyana rolls her eyes, but she doesn't sound /completely/ displeased. "I'm not signing autographs for fat old men claiming it's for their kids."

"Fans?" The one word echos from the room as the doors open to Illyana and Nate. Storm is seated upon the couch in a non-cerimonious fashion. Unawares of the visit her feet are on the seat, ass upon the top of the back-rest. But with a fash those topaz eyes alight and lift to them, the book in hand clipped shut with a snap.

"The children to the fat men are what matters. The rest," A flick of fingers and wrist while Storm slides from the couchs' rest.

Booted feet hit the Persian rug beneath the olde couch, her own leather clad form seeming more like one meant for casual, even with the strap of belting low upon waist, or the mohawk that brings the fall of pale hair only to one side.

"That's what we're here for, anymore."

A brief smile to Illyana and Storm is closing the gamp between herself and the duo.

"Like it, hate it? Good question. No idea, lets find out," Nate pushes the door for the blonde to go in soon. "I brought an elusive one to you, Storm," he assumes the woman know each other, though, so makes no introductions. "Oh yeah, fans, we are talking about X-Red fans. I will poke Wanda about it too."

Illyana's icy blue eyes narrow a little more when Nate doesn't really answer her. "Being mysterious doesn't suit you, Nate." She tells him tartly, and, taking the door being opened as no more than her due, tosses her head and marches past him into the office.

She's aiming to be the very picture of confidence and unconcern, but her eyes dart keenly around the office - and over Storm herself - as Illyana compares her surroundings to her expectations and files away the differences. "I'm not convinced the fat men really HAVE any children." Illyana replies with a quiet snort, before glancing back toward Nate at his 'elusive' comment. "Hey, I always turn up in the end." She smirks knowingly at him. "More or less."

Returning her attention to Storm, Illyana decides to satisfy her curiosity right away. "Nate tells me you're gathering the troops." She begins. "Of course, he won't tell me WHY." She adds, with an accusing glance in Nate's direction… and possibly a faint smirk as well.

Just before the approach of the duo, Storm folds arms over her chest, the silver-on-gold bracers that loop her arms glinting in the lighting, a flash of their own accord despite the form already present within the room itself by the meet. Goddesses of their own rites, one new the other newly here. But it does not stop the meet that has the blondes' face to face and blues' eye to eye.

"I heard of your backing of one team, I heard of your legacy. Of your trials. Of your triumphs. I am gathering our people. Not troops, as we seek no war - only end it." A narrow of her own eyes and her chin rises slightly with the smile.

A look towards Nate and she lowers her chin to sweep between the two. "Past is past. Shall we move on and forward?" A drop of one hand and it is extended towards Illyana for a formality.

"Nate has an Uncanny sense for bringing us together where my letters and calls fall short." A brief smile of appreciation is flashed his way.

"Yes, 'cause you always tell me your secrets," replies Nate to Illy, leaning against the desk. " Not that it is going to be a secret soon, but I guess it is better if you learn it official like," he nods to Storm. "It is true, it looks like I am playing messenger lately. But I guess it actually was bad most of the X-Men lost touch with former students and… the more independent of us. I am gonna blame Scott for that. And that time is over, I think."

Illyana grins sweetly at Nate. "A girl's got to have her secrets, Nate, or where's the fun?" Double standards? Of course. She's almost disappointed that she's about to get the full story from Storm. Now she'll have to find something else to needle Nate about, but she's sure she can manage.

Illyana doesn't correct Storm's assumption that the Illyana who apparently had some sort of small fan club as a member of X-Red is the Illyana who's standing before her right now. Far easier, at least in Illyana's mind, if she just steps into the space vacated by her predecessor and avoids as many awkward conversations as possible. Although, speaking of awkward, there's a hand extended toward her, and Illyana's not the most touchy-feely person. Still, it'd be rude to ignore the gesture, and she does want to be invited back. "Sure." Illyana says, taking the offered hand briefly. "Let me know if I can make myself useful."

Illyana smirks a bit at the idea of Nate being reduced to her personal messaging service. "I check up on him now and then. Keeps things interesting."

"What we blamin' on Scott dis time?" Remy inquires as the door to the office pushes open. Unruly mop of dark hair does nothing to hide the red-on-black gaze of the Cajun, his smile gracing the shadows underneath it. A wall is immediately taken as a post, a post the thief leans casually against. His attire is field gear, magenta, blacks, greys, a trench coat. Would appear he was out making himself busy this fine night (or day).

"Petit Diable, Stormie, Nate." Each in turn given a brief friendly to lukewarm acknowledgement.

The keyword is 'heard' hen it came to Illyana. The extent of hand being a dare between them, being who and -what- they are. The mention of Scott brings a brief electrical spark from the corner of eyes. It dried up other emotions and the missing of family. Nate does not get warning glance with it, the reaction enough in and of itself as the hands clasp and then part with Remy's own entry and intro.

"Making yourself useful is not the fitting phrase. You already are. Just be ready." There is nothing eluding to the exact needs, but what requisite is there in situations as inclimae as what has occurred lately? "Can you?"

Just like Illyana, Storm cuts to the chase with a crack as sharp as a whip or that of a lightning strike.

"Come now, the blame has to be passed," Storm states between Nate and Gambit as she returns to her uncerimonious perch upon the antique sofa, backrest a place for leather clad, seat a place for booted feet while hands clasp before her and the long spires of white descend between.

"But let's pass it on those deserving of it and make use of the benefits. Family needs to reunite somehow." A small smile and she looks between them all, now. "Coffee to warm?" The query finalized with a brief gust shutting the office door abruptly.

Nate eyerolls at knowing Illyana is again spying on him. That feels… awfully familiar. Form other places, other times he can't remember too well. "Tell her about the school reveal, please, before she pulls a voodoo doll of me or something," requests the young man. "Coffee is a good idea, but I will go get my own - I need to hunt down another elusive one." He heads out, nodding at Remy on his way out, "Cajun."

Illyana dips her head in a nod. "Sounds like you have something in mind for me to be ready for." She suggests, in a conspiratorial tone. "Should be fun." She muses. "And I can always be ready for fun." Although she directs a mock-pout towards Nate. "Although I suppose this means I'll have to give /you/ a way to /call/ me, and not just scoop you up when I want some news."

As Gambit arrives, she glances over her shoulder and favours him with a grin. "Anything we like. He's not here to defend himself!" She subsides when Storm calls them to order, but Gambit still gets a quick smirk before she turns back to Storm. Petit Diable. She rather likes that.

Illyana clicks her tongue at Nate's little bit of character assassination. "As if I would." She says, all innocence. "I'll come up with something far more interesting." There's a thoughtful, and possibly slightly unnerving look in her eyes all of a sudden. "I won't be long." Illyana announces, before a stepping disc swallows her up.

OOC Note: The scene ends a bit abruptly because the European players needed sleep!

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