Celebrations and Revelations

July 06, 2017:

Rachel and Illyana do some serious celebrating over individual victories.

London & Canary Islands


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Just a few minutes ago, Rachel Summers had probably the best and most indepth conversation she's ever had with her 'father'. (Though really, even Rachel knows it really isn't her 'dad', her dad died many years ago - for Rachel at least, time is such a funny thing when it comes to what is really the future, and what is the past.)

With any case, Rachel is now seeking out Kitty, who she hasn't seen yet, and is quite hoping to catch up on. As she moves up the stairs, her thoughts are on two things, celebrating her return to the X-Men, and the fact she was able to calm her nerves and not act like a four year old in front of Scott.

The last step is finished, leaving Rachel to ponder her next move. She's already actively reached out with her abilities, seeking a familiar mind, or two, and in not finding any..? Well, Rachel's left with few choices. She can return downstairs and go celebrating on her own..? Or she can find someone else to help her celebrate. Afterall, it just isn't much fun to drink alone.

No Kurt. No Kitty. Nate's not really someone Rachel feels should be drinking.. who else..? Illyana? Hmm. Now which room is hers? Or does the demon sorceress spend her days in Limbo?


Illyana's room isn't all that difficult to find. It's the only one sporting a large and very official looking sign that declares 'BEWARE OF THE DEMONS' in a particularly stern font. Not only that, but beside the words on the sign, where you'd expect to find a silhouette of a German Shepherd or a Doberman, there's something with tentacles.

Or possibly claws. Or wings. It's as if the silhouette changes when no-one's looking.
What the firmly closed door doesn't have is a sign indicating whether the demon sorceress is in or not.


A few steps down the hall, and Rachel feels fairly confident that she's located Illyana's room. Given the demon sorceress has an insanely high ability to stop telepaths cold, Rachel doesn't try to seek out the mind. Instead, she does like anyone else might - and knocks on the door. It isn't a soft, polite little knock, it's two quick pounds, followed by; "Hey? Illyana? It's Rachel, interested in going out, getting drunk, and celebrating the return of another red-head to the X-Men?"

It's bold. It's a statement, and Rachel's cocky enough to simply pull it off without a hitch.


There's no answer from the door, but…


The noise of bubblegum popping is unusually loud behind Rachel, and when the redhead turns she'll see Illyana lounging against the opposite wall, dealing with the residue of the bright pink bubble that she just blew. "Take it you survived the interview with Uncle Scott?" Illyana replies, a bit indistinctly, then chews for a moment or two with an elaborately thoughtful look on her face.

And then she grins. Devilishly.

"Yeah. All those things sound good." Illyana pushes away from the wall and crosses to her door, pushing it open - and revealing a portal to Limbo standing behind it. She turns back, the bright light from the portal causing shadows to flicker oddly across her features. "Where are we going? I need to know what I'm dressing for." Illyana smiles smugly and adds, "I'll even provide the taxi service, free of charge."


The snap has Rachel turning around, it's a distinct sound, but not one Rachel is unfamiliar with. A wry grin is offered to the blonde, especially at 'uncle' part of Scott. "I survived, and will tell you all about it - over a round." As the door swings open and the portal is revealed? Rachel doesn't blink, just offers a quick. "If that's the case, first rounds on me." Rachel begins, stepping through the portal without hesitation. There is only a single pause before she fully enters, "There's this pub, east London, near the waterfront, and close to this old Lighthouse. Full of charm, great beer, and plenty of privacy - locals tend to ignore you, if you ignore them. I think it's the British way." With that, Rachel steps on through.

Now, Rachel hasn't ever BEEN to Limbo before, and certainly isn't sure she's going to survive the experience all things considered, but she has been through enough teleporting in her lifetime, that she doesn't feel ill, at the very least.


Illyana obligingly moves aside when Rachel walks right through the door to her room - and then the portal to her realm - with equal confidence. She was surreptitiously watching the redhead for signs of hesitation, and since she didn't catch any Rachel must either be bold or foolish.

Either option is fun in Illyana's world, and her smile becomes just a little wider as she follows Rachel through the portal.

Illyana's chosen her throne room as a convenient arrival point in Limbo, since it houses her favourite scrying pool. A large, high-ceilinged chamber within her castle, with stone floors and walls, it is lit by eternally burning torches around the wall, and Limbo's excuse for daylight that floods in from the large, star shaped balcony that projects from one side of the chamber, giving a view out over the shifting lands beyond the castle's walls. Illyana's throne stands imposingly at one end of the chamber, but the blonde demoness doesn't make a move for it. "Sounds like a good place to start." Illyana remarks cheerfully, making a beeline for a large, stone-rimmed pool of what could be water and sitting down on the edge.

"Welcome to Limbo, by the way. I'd offer you the tour, but… we have drinking to do. And I don't think what I've got here would be to your taste." Again, a devilish grin from Illyana, as her hand idly dips into the pool, and the surface of the water shimmers, forming an image of a pub. "This it?" Illyana asks, as she looks at the image critically. "Not bad."


Foolish? Bold? Well, Rachel's a bit of both, and a lot more. As she steps through, Rachel's attention is on the area around her, gaze stopping at the throne. It's there her eyes remain a bit, her lips twisted into a smirk as those green gems focus there, then gaze at Illyana and return again. It says a lot about a person, really, and speaks a lot about Illyana.

Turning about to step towards Illyana as the blonde heads to the scrying pool, Rachel's powers swirl around herself. Her ripped cut-offs turn into a skirt of blood red and made entirely of leather. A pair of black leggings peak out from the skirt, and end in a pair of six inch stilettos. The tank turns into a hue of blood red as well, though it fits a lot closer to Rachel's curves. The leather shirt has a v shaped neckline, showing off just enough skin to be daring but not dangerous.

"That's the place." Rachel confirms, her gaze flicking at the images shown. It looks so much like what she remembers. "They have a great tap beer, and as you said, it's a good place to start and break the ice."


Illyana could hardly miss Rachel judging her throne, but she just answers the redhead's smirk in kind and then shrugs. Rachel's opinion on Illyana's interior decorating is filed away as a conversation for later… but not forgotten.

As Rachel joins Illyana beside the pool, the blonde cocks her head slightly as she hears the sound of Rachel's approaching footsteps change, and she smiles to herself. She's already expecting the wardrobe change when she looks up, but the extent of the changes is still enough to drive a splinter of surprise through the poker face that the Russian was going for. "I have definitely been hanging around people with no idea how to shop for too long." Illyana says, the mild disgust in her voice clearly not directed at Rachel.

Bouncing up from her seat by the pool, Illyana gives Rachel's new outfit some consideration before she delivers her verdict. "Well. I can see we're going to be taking this seriously." She smirks, and calls the Soulsword to her hand. Raising it with a wholly unnecessary flourish, Illyana magics up a change of clothes for herself.

The top is deceptively simple, all black, short sleeves, a scoop neck. That's the front. Her back is left bare to the bottom of her shoulder blades, and below that her pale skin is crisscrossed by the black lacing that's all that keeps the top in place. She's suddenly also wearing a pair of figure hugging leather trousers that lace all the way up the side of each leg, and strappy black heels. Although they're not the towering skyscrapers that Rachel is sporting. The redhead has a few inches on her already, and Illyana prefers contests she can win.

"First round was on you?" Illyana reminds Rachel, as a stepping disc whisks them away. She is at least polite enough to deposit them in a quiet side-street nearby, rather than directly into the bar itself.


"When it comes to fashion." Rachel begins. "I have a much better taste now, than I did a few years ago." Not going too much more into that, Rachel, instead, watches the flair that Illyana shows with her own version of switch-oh-change-oh. An approving nod is given to the outfit, as Rachel wiggles her fingers into the air, like a magician about to perform a stunt. "Seems we both have a love for the dramatic - and the bold." It's good to have things in common!

After being deposited onto the nearby side-street, Rachel takes the lead, striding towards the pub with the click of heels on cobblestone. The pub has a friendly atmosphere to it as one enters, there aren't a lot of people around right now, but enough to give it the sound of soft murmuring. A table towards the back is chosen, though not before Rachel draws to the bar and orders two beers on tap, dark and bitter, and frothy delicious. One is placed in front of Illyana, while Rachel downs about half of hers in a long swig and soft 'aaah' afterwards.

"So, how much do you know about my connection with Scott and Jean?" Rachel asks innocently enough, no emotion written on her features, just a question.


Never tell Illyana that you have deep, dark, fashion-related secrets in your past. She'll feel obligated to ferret them out. Not, of course, that she gives Rachel any form of warning about that.

"Tell me about it." Illyana says, sourly, as the stepping disc melts away. "Nate won't wear anything that's not armoured because most people he meets want to kill him, and Laura won't wear anything that's not 'tactically sound'. I've tried, so many times, but you just can't help some people." She sounds thoroughly disgusted about the whole thing, and if she wasn't wearing heels she'd probably stomp off after Rachel to underline her disapproval.

Illyana takes a moment when they enter the pub to look around appraisingly. Considering, well, Rachel, it's quieter than she might have expected, but she kind of likes it. Sliding onto a chair across from Rachel, she watches the redhead drink half a pint of dark ale before coming up for air, and there's something lurking in those cold blue eyes that might be approval, or even respect. "And I thought you were an American." Illyana says, deadpan.

Rachel asks a simple enough question to start with, one that really doesn't deserve the impish look that Illyana's suddenly wearing. "If this is a test to see if I'm still really me, you've been spending too much time listening to Nate." Knowing that Nate's RIGHT isn't going to stop Illyana teasing him about it. "And even if I wasn't… no-one could look that much like Jean without being her daughter." Illyana, being nice? "…and you wouldn't have had that deer in the headlights look every time Scott's name came up if he wasn't your father." Illyana grins. "Time travel's a pain sometimes, huh?"


A snort, and Rachel swigs another drink before answering. "I've lived long enough abroad to appreciate a good beer and how to drink it." With all honesty, Rachel's spent more time abroad than she has in the states! Or has she? This entire 'time line and world being mucked with' is more confusing than Rachel's own past - which is saying something.

Listening to Illyana's woes about Nate and Laura, (who Rachel isn't sure exactly is, mind you), the red-head again lets out a quiet 'heh' of sound, "Obviously we need to go on a shopping trip, a long one, with a stolen credit card. I wonder if I still have the one Brian gave us?" Rachel actually still -does- have Brian's card, it's more a 'I wonder if it's still active' than anything else.

The compliment, as Rachel is going to take it, is appreciated. Sitting back in the chair, Rachel doesn't immediately answer, instead she signals for another beer for herself - and a questioning gaze offered to Illyana for another. Finally, Rachel lets out a low breath. "It's difficult to look at them and not think 'mom and dad'." Ray takes a moment after that, gazing down at her half empty kind of beer, before draining the rest down, as she sets the pint to one side. "I act like a four year old every time I'm around them. It's absolutely pitiful, and disgusting, today was no different, though instead of Scott being a stick up his ass, he was actually pretty cool and didn't judge."

Still seated back against the chair, Rachel's thoughts are a mile away right now. "I can't tell you how happy I am to once again be on the team, though. How about yourself, celebration goes both ways, have anything to celebrate?"


Illyana is somehow most of the way down her own beer. She must've been taking sneaky sips while Rachel was talking. Something she seems content enough to do. After all, Rachel is giving Illyana all sorts of ammunition… if the demon sorceress was the type to collect such things.

Which she is. So she lets Rachel talk, and nods when Rachel offers her another drink. It's only when Rachel asks her a question that she speaks.

"You know good beer and you like shopping." Illyana says, drolly. "You must be evil and you've clearly been sent to turn me against the team. I should port back to the mansion and rat you out to Scott." Illyana makes an exaggerated show of thinking about that, then shakes her head firmly, sending her long blonde hair swaying. "Screw it. I'll expose your evil plans after we go shopping."

Illyana slouches down comfortably in her chair, a faint smile on her face. "Scott's mellowing in his old age. It's getting harder to make him turn purple. Just porting in and setting off the alarms isn't going to work much longer. So disappointing." Illyana says the last in a sniffy tone, as if Scott's depriving her of her entertainment. But then her blue eyes sharpen up, as she takes a casual sip of her pint and just as casually remarks. "You didn't have to worry. About him not letting you back on the team. He keeps me around, and we're not even related." Lips curve into a smile, just for a moment, then it's gone again.

Putting her pint to one side, Illyana sits up properly, then leans forward, placing her elbows on the table and interlacing her fingers to make a platform for her chin. "Maybe I do have something to celebrate." Illyana offers, mysteriously. "Are you sure you want to hear about it?"


While Illyana speaks, Rachel is doing her level best to enjoy the atmosphere, enjoy the drinks, and is even pondering ordering some kind of snack to munch on. Realizing that she's starting to feel a bit relaxed, Rachel does ponder stopping at two pints, but that would hardly be a night out, now, would it? So, instead, she laughs at Illy's attempt at blackmail, pointing one hand at the beer in front of Illyana, the other at the empty one beside that. "You've caught onto my evil scheme to convert everyone over to British pints and a sword in the stone, however shopping can not be done here. This particular district is ghastly as far as proper shopping stores, downtown London is much better. After shopping, you may rat me out to Scott, though I do warn, I shall act like a four year old with a temper tantrum."

Taking the second pint a bit slower, though not by much, Rachel decides her stomach could use something to eat, thus some pork scratchings and crisps are ordered. As Illyana continues, Ray's gaze settles onto the blond. "Your brother is the impressive Colossus, I think Scott is far too smart to consider going against Piotr. And until today, I didn't even know he thought of me as anything other than another mutant, he -even- stated we were related in front of Bobby." That felt good! Though Rachel really doesn't need to state that, even her impassive expressions offer glimpses into how that felt.

Tilting her head to one side, Rachel nods slowly to the last, "Yes, I would. C'mon, I just gave you enough ammunition about me than I have given to Kitty even. I would like to hear about it."


Illyana's sneaky little smile when Rachel mentions throwing a temper tantrum suggests she might just be saving that up for a slow day around the mansion. Beer is drunk, and snacks are pinched while Rachel waxes lyrical about her family reunion, but Illyana seems most interested in whether Rachel wants to hear her story or not, chin propped up by her hands, blue eyes calmly regarding the redhead while she decides. When the word is given, Illyana unlaces her fingers with a lazy look of satisfaction. "Well. Okay then." There's a teasing look in Illyana's eyes as she begins, "It was a dark and stormy night…"

Before she really gets going, though, Illyana pauses and raises an admonishing finger. "But first… you're dead wrong, you know. One word from Scott to Piotr about his 'little snowflake' maybe getting a bruise on a mission and he'd be lining up to help throw me off the team." Illyana's eyes narrow. "Don't get any ideas, though. If it happens, now I'll know who to blame."

"Now, where was I… actually, it wasn't stormy at all that night, come to think of it. Laura turned up, sick and bleeding, which if you know Laura is… out of character. She'd run afoul of a demon lord who'd been summoned to your… our… plane of existence by some idiot kids who were way out of their depth."

Yes, Illyana used the word 'afoul'. And is it a little more shadowy around their table than it was a moment before? Illyana smiles, continuing.

"The kids didn't make it, I understand, and Laura wound up poisoned by the demon's blood…" Illyana tilts her head to one side. "You're sure you want to hear this?"


"Sorry, two questions first." Rachel intervenes, "Who is Laura, and why is it odd that it is out of character for her to be sick and bleeding?" With that asked, Rachel settles back into her chair, before quickly rising back up, and ordering another round of bitters at the bar, before settling back in with an apologetic, "Sorry, next time though, you pay." Considering Rachel's purchased three rounds instead of just the one she promised.

The empty pints are moved to one side, and as the third round is given to Illyana and Rachel, while the red-head listens intently to all that Illyana has to say. Only pausing a moment to state. "Demons. Stupid kids calling them forth. And afoul. Heck, you had me hooked at it was a dark and stormy night."

Nibbling on the snacks, Rachel's gaze remains upon Illyana watching and listening with great interest.


Illyana's expression turns pensive when Rachel asks her questions. Really, how can she best describe Laura? Before she can come up with a single sentence to sum her up, Rachel's getting up. Illyana shoots her a questioning look, then nods to herself when she sees the redhead moving toward the bar. Illyana smirks when Rachel announces that she's getting the next round. Free drinks couldn't last forever, she guesses. "Sure." Illyana agrees, collecting her beer and taking a sip.

She waits until Rachel is taking one of those long draughts she seems to enjoy so much before she answers her question. "So. Laura. Imagine Wolverine as a teenage girl, and you've got Laura." Illyana so hopes that image is the perfect accompaniment to Rachel's beer, and takes another sip of her own.

"The infection was serious, and spreading." Illyana says, in a darker, quieter tone. "I had to operate." Something about that memory makes her snort, quietly, "Your brother isn't a great nurse, either, and he REALLY didn't like me stabbing Laura with my Soulsword, but hey, desperate times, right?" Illyana sounds particularly cheerful about that last bit.

"So anyway, I managed to get a sample of the demon's blood, and we tracked him down. He had a thing for turning innocents into his thralls. We had a… skirmish, but he got away."

Illyana's lying through her teeth. She, Nate and Laura were lucky to survive.

"And since then he'd been hiding. Even I couldn't find him. Finally, though, Stephen and I did manage to track him down." Now she smiles, slow and vicious. "And I have a new trophy on my wall." There's an amused light in Illyana's eyes, but she's also closely watching for Rachel's reaction as she shrugs, and lightly adds, "Everyone needs a hobby."


If Illyana is expecting a reaction from the first part? About Laura being a teenage girl Wolverine? She gets it. Rachel's in a nice, long swig and takes in a slight gasp at just the wrong time. Beer goes flying - at least away from Illyana - towards the floor as Rachel coughs out what she had just swallowed in. "There's an image I have little desire ever seeing again." Given Rachel imagined Logan, all hair, and short, as a teenage girl, still hairy and still short, and possessing Logan's trademark beard. If Illyana were more open to telepathic intrusion, Rachel would share it, as it is, Ray's still trying to get bitter beer out of her lungs.

When that finally happens, there are still a bit of coughing here and there, throughout Illyana's story, but at least by the end Rachel's able to drink more.

Listening (with the occasional cough), Rachel's brows furrow together. She gets the feeling there is much more to this story than Illyana is giving, but for the most part, the redhead is quite impressed with the idea of a trophy demon on the wall. "Heck, start putting trophy's on that giant throne chair, it'll really keep the denizens of your domain in check."

Feeling really relaxed by this point, even after choking on beer, Rachel rubs her jaw thoughtfully. "It's a good reason to celebrate though, destroying a bad guy with Doctor Stephen Strange, I'm guessing is the Stephen you're referring to? Has got to be a mark on the lets celebrate a victory board."

As the pub is starting to wind down, Rachel motions the closing hour. "I don't know about you, but I'm not quite ready to finish drinking, nor celebrating. I chose this place, your chose now."


Illyana doesn't even try to hide her glee when Rachel's struck by her sudden coughing fit. Her grin is one of complete satisfaction, and she waits until Rachel's recovered enough to appreciate it before she delicately licks the tip of her index finger and uses it to draw a vertical line in the air. One point to Illyana.

Once her tale is told, Illyana's attention doesn't really move from Rachel until she gives her verdict. Whatever test Illyana considered her story to be, evidently Rachel passes since Illyana laughs when her throne is brought up. "I saw you eyeing up my throne earlier." Illyana says, mock-accusingly. "What? Are you jealous or do you just not like my taste in interior decorating?" This is clearly not a test, because Illyana's still grinning, and is quick to polish off the remains of her pint when Rachel suggests moving on.

"I know just the place." Illyana declares, and in a flash of light, they're… somewhere else.

Somewhere a lot louder for a start, but at least it's somewhere the flash of light from their arrival will probably go unnoticed, what with the strobing lights. The club is busy without being uncomfortably packed, there's plenty of people of the dancefloor moving to the heavy beat of the music that winds around and through them like a living thing. It's warm, even with the club's doors thrown open and folded back to let the night breeze from the ocean in, and people can be seen on the deck outside, or on the beach beyond it.

Illyana's grinning again, eyes glinting when the lights catch them, and she leans forward to shout in Rachel's ear. "Welcome to the Canaries. I'll get us something to drink. Try not to have too much fun without me!" And then she's gone, vanishing into the crowd, expertly weaving her way to the bar.

Getting served is clearly not one of her problems, because she's soon back with an exotic cocktail in each hand, one of which she passes to Rachel. It's cool, smooth, and intensely alcoholic. "Is this what you had in mind?"


A snort is all Rachel gives to the 'victory to Illyana - one'. Yeah. Yeah. Take the victory while you can - blondie, Rachel has plenty of time for her own revenge.

Yet, before Ray can really adjust to the fact they're in London, the next thing she knows, they're in the middle of a nightclub, with more minds around than the redhead is initially prepared for, especially as drunk as she is.

It's this reason Rachel completely lets her hair down. Everyone here is having a good time, more than a good time, they're just enjoying life - on a damn beach in the Canaries. Their minds are filled with joy and happiness and drunken revelry. It's infecting, and delightful, and Rachel simply throws her head back and embraces all of it.

When Illyana returns with the highly alcoholic drink, Rachel is already dancing with three different individuals, all of which are enjoying the music and the location.

Collecting the drink (and forced to step to one side so not disturb the men's gyrations), Rachel finally speaks, which turns into a loud. "And they say I'm the mind reader!"


Privately, Illyana might be a little impressed at how well Rachel adjusts to being relocated a couple of thousand miles in the blink of an eye… and how quickly she manages to find company. Another day, Illyana might be disappointed she didn't startle the time-displaced Summers, but in Illyana's slightly inebriated mind Rachel is shaping up as an accomplice-in-fun… at least when she's this far away from Scott, anyway.

"And I thought I said don't have too much fun without me!" Illyana mock-pouts, but then smirks as she finds a place to wedge herself near the dancefloor where she's not -quite- in the way. "And anyway, this was easy. Coming home had you wound up - which means you're doing it wrong, incidentally - so, here we are." Illyana gets a wicked look on her face. "Sometimes you want to be where NOBODY knows your name." She takes a sip of her drink, and decides, "Not bad." She's probably not quite as drunk as Rachel. Being part demon and ALL Russian has some benefits.


The rest of the evening is a bit of a blur for Rachel, all things considered. She knows she had a lot to drink - and she had a lot of fun. The minds of the intoxicated, including herself, created a feeling of euphoria for Rachel. It's rare for her to simply let go and be completely unguarded. As a result, she danced, had fun, laughed, and got the numbers of several young men who she'll never call - but it was nice to just enjoy their company.

Still in the thralls of her alcoholic induced happiness, Rachel and Illyana have managed to stumble down to the beach. The night is still lingering over the horizon, as the waves of the ocean crash towards the shore. Getting sand into leather is really not the best thing, but try as she might, Rachel can't get the concentration going to alter her clothing. So; sand in leather will simply have to suffice.

Flopping down on the sands, Rachel settles in to watch the waves and wait for the sun to rise. Is it rising over the waves, or .. well, regardless it'll be pretty. "Twenty questions!" Rachel announces to Illyana, Ray's green gems focusing on the blonde, before turning them back to the ocean. "I'll start. What's one secret you wouldn't even tell Kitty? I never told her I killed family." In her drunken state, Rachel gets the idea behind twenty questions all wrong, rather than her asking the question, and Illyana answering.


…and Illyana's had plenty of fun of her own, right alongside Rachel. She definitely hasn't been spending enough time indulging herself, she's decided, and considering she can be anywhere she wants to be whenever she wants, that's tantamount to a crime. She'll worry about a fitting punishment for that when she's not busy making up for lost time.

For now, though, even Illyana needs a break from drinking and dancing, so she makes her slightly steadier way to the beach beside Rachel, her heels dangling from one hand by their straps. When Rachel apparently decides they've arrived and summarily collapses, Illyana remains standing, staring out at the dark sea. It's making her introspective. She thinks of one of Limbo's seas, the cliffs above the surf, the incessant greenish, oily rain that makes the rock slick and dangerous… and somehow Limbo feels far away, now, as if it's the dream and this is really where she belongs, rather than somewhere it's nice to visit while she has the chance.

Rachel's imperious announcement breaks Illyana out of her reverie and she turns, dropping down to sit facing Rachel, her legs crossed tailor style before her. Rachel's first sally makes her snort back laughter, but then she realises what the question means to her, and what her answer could be, and she stops laughing. "You have no idea how to play this game, da?" Illyana asks, her accent having become steadily thicker over the course of the night. "Do you wish you had told her?"

If Rachel was expecting a reaction beyond curiosity from Illyana at that murderous revelation, she's going to be disappointed.


"Do I wish I had told her? No. I'm glad I haven't. That's a sekrut. Shhh." Rachel states, her gaze out on the horizon, listening to the waves, feeling still that bit of euphoria, but more than that - the alcohol has dropped many of her guarded emotions. She's telling Illyana things she wouldn't tell anyone, no one. Some things she doesn't even want to tell herself, or remember.

"Am I playing wrong? Hey. Where'd I put my shoes?" Rachel's gaze draws towards her feet, which are shoeless and now buried in the sand. Sitting upwards, Rachel's fingers run through the soft particles of sand, noting with some dismay. "They're not there, or on my feet." When did she lose them!? And leather on sand is uncomfortable, but Rachel turns to sit exactly like Illyana, facing the blonde with an expression that draws towards almost dark.

"Your time. Turn. Question." Rachel lets out a soft sigh, waiting for Illyana to answer - as she does, her gaze moves away from the blonde and once again shifts towards the horizon. "I also don't think this is the world that I'm from. I think in that bit thing-time-shifted-rest-world-gone-wrong-bologna." All of which are strung together in a string of nonsense worlds and slurred most indignitly.. "This world isn't the world I was on, cause I'm thinking Kitty doesn't know me, or I know her, and Eshcal-bur hasn't eshifted."


"That's OK. I collect secrets." Illyana replies, not really sure whether Rachel is even listening to her. "I mostly keep them, too." She adds. Her own, certainly. Others? Well, that depends how much they're worth.

"Da." Illyana tells Rachel. "You are supposed to ask questions and I am supposed to answer yes or no. But this is more fun." It is when Rachel is telling her secrets, certainly. Not that the redhead seems to be able to keep her attention from wandering.

"Question, or answer?" Illyana asks, cagily, although she's unaware that alcohol has robbed her of anything approaching a poker face. "If you want an answer to your question, you left your shoes in the club. Good luck finding them again." The Russian doesn't seem inclined to offer any assistance, and groans, flopping back on to her elbows when now -Rachel- brings up Nate's favourite topic.

"Not you, too! Your brother's bad enough! I don't care if the world's gone wonky, I like it this way!" Illyana sounds rather peevish, and adds in a grimmer tone, "It could be a LOT worse, trust me."

A thought suddenly occurs to her. "Wait. Wait a minute. I would never ask NATE this, but if the world is wrong… how am -I- supposed to be? Answer that and you can ask a real question. I'll even answer it." Alcohol has the upper hand over Illyana's secretive better judgement, it seems.


"Never said it was wrong." Rachel begins, calmly enough, then realizes that she kind of did, and thus she needs to clarify her fuzzy thoughts. "Okay I did say wrong in there, but I don't mean it. Yeah, it's not the one I know, but I like it. I like it a lot actually. Dad called me family. How cool is -that-! Shuuuu.. Sure things are different, and you can be as wrong or as right as you want. I don't care. You're.. " Rachel ponders a moment. "You mean how are you supposed to be? Like a young child, or a teenager? Or an adult? Or if you're shap-posed to be good, or evil? Hell. I don't know you enough to say. You're you. I'm me. Who we are now is all that matters, who we're shap-posed to be doesn't matter. It all comes down to this moment, at this time, and this place, and we make the most of it. Timelines don't matter anymore. Realities don't matter. You find yourself in this one, and you go for it, the best way that you can."

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, and noting that she's glad she has leggings on, as the skirt is hitched up a bit, Rachel shifts her position to sit with her legs curled up beneath her instead. "So, ask a question and you answer the question, makes more sense. If that suff..sufffeye..suffices then my question is; You try really hard to have this tuff as nails exterior, you're sarcastic and biting and you try to put on this big show, but I think you're… "

As Rachel continues her thoughts suddenly betray her, as her gaze flickers towards the horizon. "More like me. Aren't you? A bad past, and you're hiding it all from everyone, ammIright?"


Illyana rolls her head back to look up at the stars as Rachel gushes, not for the first time, about Scott admitting they're related. She almost makes a cutting comment about whether Rachel's old enough to drink, since she sounds like a kid when she talks about her dad, but Illyana remembers when she tried to go home. Remembers Nikolai and Alexandra denying she was their daughter. It's an old pain, mostly forgotten, and she feels a stab of anger toward Rachel for making her experience it despite the general haziness of her thoughts. But on the heels of the anger comes sadness, and she just keeps silent instead, staring at the stars until she's sorted out the sudden mess of her emotions.

Illyana raises her head as Rachel comes to the end of her rambling speech and pulls a face as she feels her hair brush across the sand - and dump a few grains of sand down the mostly open back of her outfit. She sits up and shakes out her hair until it's as sand-free as she can get it, then looks at Rachel slyly from beneath her bangs. "And here I'd thought I'd been on my best behaviour." She says, allowing a bit of that sarcasm Rachel mentioned out to play. It's true, though.

Illyana doesn't answer Rachel's question at once, keeping her eyes on the redhead as she gazes out to sea, Illyana's eyes narrowing. Maybe she's been too relaxed, tonight. "Who says I'm hiding anything?" Illyana asks, and she sounds a fair bit more sober than she did a moment before. "Who says this isn't who I am?" Despite the defiant edge to her words, Illyana draws up her knees and loops her arms around them, almost defensively. She steals another look at Rachel. The hell with it. She's drunk, and they have to go home through Limbo. If she has to, she can take steps while they're in her domain, and Rachel will never know.

"I liked you better before you developed drunken insight." Illyana tells Rachel accusingly, but there's some amusement back in her tone, along with a hint of resignation. "I'm less like you than you think. A long time ago, a little girl got lost, and something else found its way home. You really want to know what I'd never tell Kitty? She got lost in Limbo too, and the little girl killed her." Illyana smiles, but there's a fragility to the expression, like glass about to shatter. "Not something I tell people, much. But now you know."


Silently; Rachel takes in everything that Illyana has to say, all the emotions, all the expressions, all the words, biting, sarcastic, and deep. The redhead's attention is on Illyana, and what she finds out - is pretty much as dark as you can get. Rachel's expression also doesn't register as offensive, or pity or any other bullshit attitude or emotion that one might have that hasn't been through that kind of personal hell. She just nods, "You mean more like me than even you might thank Miss Rasputina. Whether we want to admit it, or not, after this. We've murdered those we love, whether by force or by choice, and have to live with the consequences."

Rachel's head bobs up and down, her fingers unconsciously drifting towards her face where the branded tattoos rest. She keeps her fingers there a moment, her thoughts as cloudy as they are - focus on the past of a hound, then Rachel just sighs. "But enough bullshit meloncholy past revelations." With a great deal of concentration, and a few broken bottles afterwards, Rachel successfully manages to snag a bottle of something dark, red, and expensive from one of the closed bar's top shelfs. Uncorking the top, Rachel takes a swig then hands the bottle to Illyana.

"A drink to the past, may it forever lie in its shallow grave." With that, Rachel falls silent, there really isn't anything else to say right now. She flops back onto the sand, crooking her arms above her head, and resting her head there, as her gaze lifts to the sky.


At Rachel's nod, the sense of fragility about Illyana, the strange feeling that she was about to fall and shatter, melts away as if it never was. "After this?" I'm admitting nothing, and neither are you." But there's no threat in her tone. "And I'm never going drinking with you again. You don't let me avoid questions." She sounds disgruntled, but just as clearly she's lying.

There's a certain freedom to admitting your sins… even if it's only one, out of so many.

Illyana watches Rachel reach toward her tattoos. I can take those from you, she doesn't say. In Limbo, I can make those go away, she doesn't say either. She and Rachel aren't the same. The marks on Rachel's face don't make her any less human. The marks on Illyana's soul… do. And revealing them to the world wouldn't be strength, it would be surrender.

Illyana starts a little, lost in her thoughts. Then allows herself to smile. "Yeah. Enough bullshit." Illyana agrees, and takes the bottle, tilting it up for a long, long drink. When she's done, she puts the bottle in the sand between them, digging the base in a little way to keep it upright, then lies back, propping herself up on one arm. "Tell you what." Illyana says speculatively. "If your past rises from the grave, I'll help you stuff it back in. But you'd better do the same for me, or I'll tell Scott his little girl stayed out all night and got herself smashed." With that, Illyana flops onto her back.

It hasn't been the night she expected. It might prove to be a mistake. But she hopes it doesn't.

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