My Turn

April 02, 2019:

It starts with angry prunning (Rachel has a chainsaw!) and ends up with them talking about their current problems in turn. It was one of THOSE days at Xavier's

Xavier's School. Outside


NPCs: None.

Mentions: Doctor Strange, Ravager


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Xavier's Estate. After the events in New York with Tony Stark and the Sentinels, really - things have seemed to calmed down, ever so slightly. Yet, that single event, and some of the things leading to it and afterwards, is enough to give Rachel a great big headache. Not the least of which is her nightmares at night. The fact the morning takes away everything has Rachel in a bit of a snit. She should be remembering things, and she's not. Is it the past she's trying to recollect? Is it a possible future? With her background, anything is possible.

So on this lovely Spring day, Rachel is getting out her aggression. During the Winter the heavy snow has caused several trees to need some severe pruning. Limbs on the ground, widow maker limbs hanging from the taller trees. Pine needles are spread throughout the forested areas. Things are in a mess, and rather than waiting on the grounds crew to fix it, Rachel is taking things into her own hands.

It's this reason, one red-head is on the ground currently with a chainsaw in one hand, goggles on her eyes, in a flannel long sleeved t-shirt, hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail, thick, steel toed boots, and a pair of jeans.

It's the sound of the chainsaw that sings through the air that would be the first thing noticed, as Rachel uses the massive gas guzzling item to its best and is currently slicing through a large fallen trunk, making quick work of the huge tree, and creating nice little round firewood in the process.

Her expression? At least what can be seen behind the goggles, is absolutely as intense as can be.

There are Sentinels doing weird things out there. The social media are full of anti-mutant hysteria and fake stories. The government is flailing around and denying everything. The X-Men seem scattered and leaderless. Genosha is thriving, with thousands of mutants arriving every month to the ports despite the UN still being very slow with the lifting of trade restrictions.

And what is Nate doing? Nothing much, it seems. In fact, he spends much of the day in Gotham. Comes to Danger Room training and some updates and checks Mutant Town briefly. It is the most lazy and easygoing version of Nate since he got to Xavier’s four or five years ago. Not that most students know him well.

Well, today he is around and he spots Rachel as he leaves the mansion building, waves from the distance, and then decides to walk closer to talk with the redhead. And for once there is not a mug of coffee with him.

Illyana leaving the mansion without a word is hardly anything new. Illyana leaving the mansion in a cab, rather than under her own power, is a bit more unusual. Illyana leaving at the crack of dawn is even more unusual, and in a sharp business suit, rather than her usual semi-goth attire? Almost unprecedented.

A cab draws up at the mansion's gates, the fare is paid, and soon the cab's pulling away, leaving the X-Men's resident blonde-haired sorceress to walk slowly up the mansion's driveway. When she left this morning she hadn't been entirely sure she'd be coming back, and she took the cab back to the mansion to give herself time to think about her meeting with Strange.

Plenty of time to think, and no conclusions reached. And now the sound of a chainsaw is cutting into her thoughts, as much as it's cutting into… whatever else is suffering its attentions. Illyana's steps slow to a halt. A glance at the doors to the mansion, then a shrug, and she angles away, towards the sound of wood being abused. Her neat skirt suit and heels aren't the best choice for venturing into the mansion's grounds, but she'll deal with that as and when it becomes a problem.

So intently focused upon the chainsaw cutting through wood, Rachel doesn't initially notice Nate's wave. In fact, she's so intently focused upon her own thoughts, she doesn't pick anything up until Nate is practically within talking distance. (Or considering the loud roaring of the chainsaw, shouting distance.) It's the quite.. happy… thoughts coming from her 'brother' that stirs Rachel's attention. Considering her very foul mood, the onslaught of a more 'happier' attitude sends the red-head into even more of an unpleasant scowl.

The tall red-head holding the chainsaw and looking like a lumberjack slows back on the cutting of the large limb, the chainsaw simply held in a humming state of idle.

Goggle covered green eyes shift towards Nate, as one eyebrow arches itself upwards, a scowl dampening the corners of her lips. Rachel has never been one to mince words, "What has you in such a good mood?"

As Rachel's attention is focused upon Nate, she is also witness to Illyana - in a business outfit - trying to traverse the uneven ground (made worse by Rachel's 'cleaning' efforts) in a skirt and heels. If Rachel could facepalm, she would. As it is. She's in a - mood.

So rather than waiting for Illyana to make it here on her own, Illyana will find a gentle telekinetic 'hand' sweeping about the blonde, plucking her up and moving her within a bubble until Illyana is then set, gently, down on top of a larger and flat stump. "Is everyone going crazy or are you in a pencil skirt?"

Now, Rachel being in a poor mood is not new. But usually Nate easily matches her in the anger issues department. Today, he just smiles briefly. Briefly due to Illyana's appearance, which causes a double take.

Illyana is wearing a business outfit. There is a moment of cognitive dissonance. Wince.

"Yeah? It is going to be one of -those- days, right?" He gives Illyana a once over. "You okay, Illy?" Because she is so much harder to read than Ray. Ray is in the warpath, clearly, and the trees are being victimized. And Nate is not sharing his reasons for feeling good easily, as he is ignoring his 'sister' question and instead trying to focus attention on the blonde.

There are decent walkways through the gardens closest to the mansion, and Illyana gets a look at the source of the deforestation before she really has to start hiking. Even dressed like a lumberjack, it's impossible not to recognise Rachel. And Illyana doesn't need to be a telepath to recognise her foul mood, either.

It's almost like she works out her temper through destruction as well. Although with her, it's usually demons that suffer, rather than the comparatively inoffensive trees.

Another person would leave Rachel alone, but since Nate is already heading in that direction to stick his head in the lion's mouth, Illyana just smirks and steps off the path, navigating her way through Rachel's trail of destruction. She's really not doing all that badly - all things considered - when she's telekinetically swept off her feet.

Instinctively, she glances toward Nate, but relaxes a fraction when she realises it's Ray who's got her. Even so, by the time she's placed on the treestump, about three feet higher than she really wants to be, she's got her arms folded to show she's not entirely happy about being grabbed. The faint frown accompanying the pose smooths out a bit when Rachel questions her choice of outfit. "Everyone's always going crazy." She tells Rachel primly. "But I am in a pencil skirt." She smirks. "I thought I looked very professional." Ray's in a mood, so Illyana's not taking things seriously. This can only end well.

"When isn't it one of those days, Nate?" She asks, leaning forward a bit to judge the distance from the stump to the ground, and deciding to remain on her pedestal for now. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Rachel's mood does not improve in the slightest at having her question avoided? Ignored? Though, rather than push the question further, the red-head is just not in a mood to do more than scowl. Prying into her brother's business is just not something Rachel does. Err. Too often anyway. If he's happy, she should be happy, but honestly, Rachel can't bring herself to even smile, in the slightest.

No, Rachel's darkening mood only continues to gain ground. Her mouth fully curved into a permanent scowl, the radiant aura about her almost crackling with anger, annoyance, and almost villainy like intensity.

Illyana's given another quick glance over, as Rachel tries to fathom why on Earth the sorceress would be walking around in a business outfit, in the early hours of the morning. Without any clue on either Illyana nor Nate, Rachel gives up and shuts the chainsaw off. The loud humming of the machinery fades into nothing, as it's placed on the ground in front of the red-head.

"Well, since I have you both here." Rachel begins with an ominous tone, "And I can't readily start beating up particles of wood." She continues, her arms now crossing over her chest. "And neither one of you are going to open up." She states with a good stare at each, then finally caves and just flops onto another stump not quite as high as the one she placed Illyana on. Seated there, Rachel lets out a gust of air from her lungs. "Lets -talk-."

When it is not one of those days? Weeeell. Okay, point for the demon queen. But 'why wouldn't I be?' That one is easy. "When are you…?" But Rachel gets off first. He listens, a frown in his brow. And yet, she says 'talk'.

Oooh. Talk. That is a four-lettered word in some circles. Nate never gets these two ladies to really talk with him. "Deal," he accepts a bit too quickly. "You can start, Ray, since it is obvious something is eating you alive beyond the usual shit with the world at large. "Want to do it right here, among the wreckage?" It might be the proper place, though. Maybe something about their lives resonates with a bunch of angrily half-pruned trees, fallen branches and whatever. He leans against a still unmaimed tree.

Illyana shoots Rachel a mock-hurt look when she accuses her of not opening up. It's spoiled by the smirk she's not trying very hard to banish. She HAS answered Rachel's questions, after all. She just hasn't volunteered any useful information.

Illyana's enjoyment of the situation tarnishes slightly when Rachel picks out a much more practical treestump for her own perch. "You couldn't have given me THAT one, could you?" She complains, but makes the best of the situation. Kneeling down, she swings her legs around to sit on the edge of her treestump, crossing one leg neatly over the other and bracing her hands against her wooden seat. And at some point during that surprisingly graceful evolution, she even managed to shoot a dark look at Nate for his backchat. She's not surprised that he agrees to Rachel's… request? Even if it sounded more like a threat.

"Why not? It's appropriate." She comments, but she's looking at Rachel. Silently inviting her to speak.

Oh good grief! Rachel hates being the one to open up first. She should have just kept her mouth shut and told everyone to get lost, she had work to do. Yet, here she is, seated on a stump, the one to actually state, 'lets talk', and now the first one to give up whats bugging her, or at least expressing what is going on. It isn't fair! It's just. Dammit. Rachel does gain a bit of amusement at Illyana's predicament, and could help - but the sorceress has things well in hand, so Rachel just nods her head in approval.

"Ugh." Rachel's single expression sums up everything going on with her mood right now. "Right, if I go first, you both have to give something too!" And Rachel means it! She's going to be in even more of a foul mood if 'talking' doesn't end up all three expressing something at least. Man will Rachel pout.

"Nate, I..I think I need you to go through my thoughts while I'm sleeping." And Rachel is fucking dead serious here. Her gaze moves towards her brother, eyes narrowing intently upon him. "At night, when I dream, there are these - images. Thoughts. Nightmares. They're troubling, but the moment I wake up - in cold sweats mind you - they're gone. I'm USED to nightmares, but this is something else, and it's really making me mad. I can't go back to sleep after that, so I've managed to go through the entire series of Angel over the past few weeks."

So. There. Rachel's expressed her reason for her more than ticked off attitude, watching the entire Angel series is enough to give anyone a bad mood, but having nightmares to boot, that just tops it off.

Nate struggles not to smirk at the pouting Rachel. Would she kill him if he takes a picture with his cell? She probably would. Ah well. Also, he should be a good brother and try to help.

Nightmares. Yes, those are familiar problems. And not something another telepath can really help, except if there is an external cause. "Of course I'll help," he replies after a moment of consideration. Mostly because he is not the best telepath for this kind of thing. Xavier, Jean, even Betsy or the Cuckoos, they are all subtler, more skilled. But he has been improving with the years; he is quite sure he can do a light monitoring and avoid synchronizing with Rachel's powers.

The Angel series bit, he will let comments on that for Illyana. Nate has gaps in his pop culture and very broad tastes. Meaning he will watch anything and like it. No critical sense.

"Okay, my turn?" Yes, they better leave Illyana for the last, so she is properly guilted into talked. "Rose is alive. She was displaced into other timeline after Genosha, but she survived and managed to return. We are kind of living together again. It is… complicated. But I am optimistic, I guess," and taking things slow, which is a novel approach for them.

Illyana can't help herself, and a smile flickers across her lips as Rachel realises that she's volunteered… and now she's trying to extract a promise that Illyana's going to share, too. "No promises." Illyana tells her. It's not that Rachel isn't her friend, she is. It's not that Illyana doesn't want to help, she does. But she's Illyana. It's never that simple. "I'm not sharing if this turns out to be boy trouble." She might be trying to lighten the mood. Or she might be trying to be a pain. Probably it's both.

Illyana's amusement vanishes as soon as Rachel makes her pitch to Nate, her fingers tightening on the rough bark at the edge of the tree stump she's perched on. Her eyes latch on to Rachel's, and she's frowning. The icy blue gaze might be saying 'are you sure?', but it's more likely 'are you crazy?'. The idea of having someone rummaging around in HER thoughts doesn't appeal in the least.

"And you didn't ask me to watch them with you. That's it, I'm keeping my late night movie sessions to myself from now on." She manages to get that in first, as a cover for her concern. "Unless… whatever you find - whatever it is - you'd better not leave me out." She offered Limbo as an alternative, to test whether these dreams could still find her there. She's not surprised Rachel went a different route.

Illyana's leaning forward on the treestump, waiting for Rachel's response - and doesn't expect Nate to switch the subject as quickly as he does. With a final glance at Rachel, she settles back with an effort. "I thought you were in a better mood." She tells Nate. "I should have guessed. Try not to lose her this time." She's evil, but she's smiling as she says it.

Well, that would explain Nate's good mood - having Rose back is not only important, but a very good sign that maybe things aren't quite so dire. Rachel's head bobs in a 'yes' kind of manner once, her scowl forming a thin line, ALMOST a smile, then back again. "That is - really good news, Nate. I'm… happy for you." That hurt. In the mood Rachel is in, saying something like that was painful. Though. She did mean it. As a slight after thought, however, Rachel does offer a quick, "And while other telepaths might be better suited, Nate, you're the only person I trust, to understand - what it is you're going to see in there. I don't want strangers or even mo— Jean to see inside." And Rachel's hand lifts upwards, idly tapping her head with a finger. Nate is the only one, other than Illyana of course, that Rachel trusts enough to see everything and not judge. (The judging part is the most important.)

"I did leave Buffy for us to binge, Illyana." Rachel offers with a flicker of another grin crossing her features, before fading just as fast. Rachel's gaze remains upon Illyana for a bit, "I want to find out what this is, and the best way to do this, is for someone I trust to be there with my unconscious state." In other words, Rachel can't bring Illyana into her mind, and still be unconscious to experience the - what Rachel is assuming - is repressed memories. "If the Sentinel situation is causing repressed memories to emerge, I don't want them to overwhelm me suddenly in the heat of battle. I want to face this head on, as soon as I can."

Nate mock-glares Illyana when the blonde fails to deliver any bit of what really goes through her head. Which caused her to wear a business suit and no leather. Because no one is going to believe it if they didn't see it. He wouldn't.

His attention returns to Rachel when she explains the reasons of picking him, which surprise him and make him feel strange. Really? He won't judge. Maybe. Probably. He won't peer into her memories at least. What did he agree to do anyway???

Well, anything Rachel needs. Even if they weren't (kind of) family without her he would be dead. Nate owes much to the time-displaced young woman. "Well, then…" he looks back to Illyana. "Talk."

Illyana's given up digging her fingernails into the much-abused treestump and has her arms folded again. Tightly. It's clear what she thinks of Rachel's plan to let Nate - let anyone - into her head. She hears Rachel's arguments, of course, but she's not really listening. If her own secrets hadn't been painfully exposed to all and sundry, there's no way she'd be volunteering them to a telepath.

The peace offering of Buffy gets a nod that's a bit stiff, and it seems like she's about to say something for a moment. She doesn't say there are other ways. They all involve black magic, parasitic demons that feed on the negative emotions of traumatic memories, or both. She forces a smirk. "You'd better make sure everyone else is at a safe distance when you do this, then." She's seen what Rachel can do, when she lashes out. The mansion might never be the same.

Compared to her reservations over Rachel's choices, finding herself put on the spot is less of a concern. She tilts her head to one side when Nate makes his demands. "You need to work on your interrogation technique, Nate." She tells him, and for a moment or two it seems she might not say another word, but finally she relents. Uncrossing her arms, she shrugs. "I've been studying with Doctor Strange. A long time before everything…" She looks around at Rachel's chainsaw-related devastation, and smiles. Appropriate indeed. "…happened. I'd had enough time to put my affairs in order, so… it was time to face the music." She wrinkles her nose. "He let me go. Honestly, for the man whose job it is to defend the world from things like me… I think he's slacking." She waits a moment. "Happy?"

Really, did Rachel expect Illyana to open up about anything? No. It's just not her way. Though when the blonde /does/, and gives an explanation, well, Rachel is happy about that. At least initially. At least. Until Rachel fully begins to understand what Illyana means. Then. Then. The red-head stands up, and just gapes at Illyana. "WAIT!? What? You were going over to Doctor Strange's to be - judged? To what? Stand trial? Be executed? And you didn't even bother saying anything to me?"

To say Rachel's bad mood returns is an understatement. Her arms cross over her chest again as the red-head stares at Illyana. Rachel's own brows narrow downward, until finally, she just can't stand it any longer. This isn't the last Illyana is going to hear of Rachel's annoyance in this. That stung. A lot.

With a shake of her head, Rachel turns towards Nate. "Thank you. We should have dinner sometime, all of us, Rose, you, me, Illyana." Even if Rachel's currently pissed at her friend right now. "Something good and normal."

After that statement, everything around the area begins to lift upwards, the debris, the logs, the wood, the chainsaw, the particles of dust and chips and tree limbs, as Rachel plucks it all upwards in a powerful display of telekinesis and begins to storm off towards the distance, the bubble of plante life trailing behind her. She does offer a quick - "I'm going to go make a compost site with this, and cut up the remaining fire wood. I'll see you both later."

That's pretty much all Rachel is going to give, and that's as snipped as she can make it, as the red-head storms off into the distance.

"Was he blaming you for the demon thing?" Asks Nate, indignant, at the same time Rachel rants. "There was a fucking dragon the size of a helicarrier there. What the fuck? Who does he think he is?"

Besides, y'know, that Supreme Sorcerer thing. NEVERMIND. No one gets to judge Illyana if he has anything to say about it (but he doesn't). Illyana is her own harshest judge, anyway. "He 'let you go' means you are cleared or something. I know it wasn't your fault!"

Then Rachel is picking up the pieces and hovering off. And Nate hrms. "I can stay tonight if you want," he offers. As for the invitation to dinner. He would like to, definitely, but Rose's association with the X-Men was never mended. Then again, maybe it is time to attempt to fix that too.

Wherever these two get their tempers from… it's safe to say it's not from Scott's side of the gene-pool. Illyana weathers the firestorm of anger from the time-displaced sort-of siblings without her air of cool calmness cracking even slightly. She meets Rachel's eyes first. "You watched Angel without me."

That's right, Illyana doesn't even attempt an apology. She knows what her friend's temper is like. But more than that, she's not sorry. Rachel would have tried - and failed - to talk her out of it. Then she would have wanted to involve herself and that could have been… messy.

Illyana simply chose the path with the least collateral damage.

The same goes for Nate, although Illyana senses that he understands her even less than Rachel. "It's done, Nate. Let it go." Small chance of that, she knows. Better to do as she always does, as they always expect. "Some other time." She says, and slips down from the tree stump, vanishing into the glaring brightness of a stepping disc before her feet hit the ground.

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