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=XS= Great Hall - Lv 1 - Xavier's School
Training done, and a Wesley, still damp with sweat after a long training session down in the gymnasium, slips upstairs a few paces ahead of the others who are scattering to their various evening activities. A few more feet and he'll be to the door and gone, out into the rainy trek back to the city.
He is not permitted that escape when, following behind him and catching up with a quick jogging step comes Piotr, looking similarly the worse for exertion. "Will you come and get a drink with me?" he invites pleasantly, his ulterior motive of seeing how his friend is doing not particularly well hidden.
Illyana is off to the side, searching the faces of those getting out of training for her brother, and she smiles and starts forward when she sees him, but then hangs back, worried about interrupting anything when he speaks to someone.
Curses. Foiled again. Wesley slowly turns, gym bag knocking against his leg. "Uh...sure, Pete," he shrugs. "Guess I can catch the next train." His hand drops from the doorknob. "Here?"
Spying Illyana and sending her a smile, Piotr answers Wesley with a light, "Unless there is somewhere else you would prefer to go? I wonder--" He extends a hand over towards his sister, beckoning to join them. "Illya, this is Wesley, Wesley, my sister Illyana, I do not know if you would remember one another. Is there anything in the kitchen you could tempt him with, Snowflake?"
"Wesley," Illyana repeats, frowning in a vague manner that suggests she's not sure herself if she remembers him. "Hello. How are you?" She ponders her brother's question for a moment. "{There is stew left. And also more scones. That I made. There is quite a lot of food I had nothing to do with.}" She grins, and then yanks herself back to English for the other participant in the conversation. "I am being happy to have people to eat things I was baking--baked."
"Illyana," Wesley offers a smile, nodding recogition. Enough overlap at least recognize the face. "I'd heard you were back. Welcome back."
"Ah," Piotr says with a smile at Illyana's inventory of the kitchen, gesturing with a tip of his head towards that very place as he begins to make his way there. "You should come and try the scones that Illyana made. She is an excellent cook, though she will claim she is not." He sends a look of teasing challenge towards her.
"Mr. Wagner was liking my cooking," Illyana is forced to admit. She nods to Wesley. "Thank you." She also starts for the kitchen, gauging her steps to take her a little ahead, so the other two can talk without worrying about including her for the moment.
"Scones." Wesley brightens at the word. For a 20-something male, food can break through the most melonchaly of moods. "I've heard good things about your cooking, and not just from Pete. Guess I can help be a tiebreaker vote," he says, starting to make his way toward the kitchen.
Smiling at the ease with which his cunning plan is falling into place, Piotr follows after Illyana, turning to Wesley to ask his friend in a harmlessly mild tone, "How are you doing? I did not get much of a chance to speak with you earlier."
"Keeping busy," Wesley evades. "Lot of hours at work, lot of hours at the station. With that and a bit of training here, I'm never at my apartment anymore." And that says, likely, more than Wesley intends to say.
"Well, keeping busy can be a good thing," Piotr says quietly, with a look of concern that offers support should Wesley want or need it. "It is better than simply sitting around and doing nothing. That can--" He stops, and consciously reforms the smile that has slipped a little, "It is best not too think too much, sometimes."
"Or at all," slips out before Wesley can think better of it. "Sorry," he adds with a forced chuckle. "It's just...easier to try to forget it all."
"I understand," Piotr assures him, "though that will not work forever." This is, apparently, the extent of what he has to say on the matter, as they reach the kitchen and he heads for the fridge. "Would either of you like something to drink?"
Illyana goes in search of her scones, returning with a half-empty plate (students have been here, apparently) to offer it first to Wesley and then to her brother. "Milk?" she requests from him.
"Milk's fine, thanks," Wesley nods. This /is/ a school, after all. He takes one of the scones with a smile, then hops up onto one of the bar stools. "Your english is getting really good."
Dutifully, Piotr brings out milk, closely followed by his own customary orange juice before pushing the door of the fridge shut with his elbow and placing the drinks down on the counter. He too takes a scone with a smiling, "Thank you," before fetching glasses for all.
Illyana takes a scone for herself, and leans on her elbows on the counter and breaks off bite-sizes pieces with her fingers before eating them. "I am not saying--say-ed much," she points out, but brightens noticably at the compliment. "I am studying hard."
"More than you used to," Wesley points out. "Not sure I heard you say two sentences last time you were here," he says, before biting into the scone. The smile grows wider, though he manages to finish chewing before adding, "Final vote is in. Excellent cook."
"There, you see?" It is with a look of considerable triumph that Piotr turns a smile on Illyana, setting the glasses out on the counter and pouring the drinks, milk first, to offer out to the others.
Illyana sticks out her tongue at brother, and takes her milk. "Thank you," she tells Wesley, happily. "My English is not better, but I am being not scared. Here is not scary--{in comparison.}" Illyana wrinkles her nose, but doesn't bother to flail her way to the English meaning of her laziness.
"Yeah, well, once you've seen the fools we all can make of ourselves," Wesley says, a half smile as he slides the remaining glass of milk toward him. "It's hard to be intimidated."
"We can certainly make fools of ourselves," Piotr agrees, with a jokingly grumbling scowl as he continues, "I should find the DVD of Kurt's pirate game for you. Did you ever see that, Wesley?"
"Pirates?" Illyana asks, polishing off her scone, and wetting her finger to pick up and then eat the crumbs she created. "It is good not to being serious, yes?"
Wesley pops another bite of scone, washing it down with milk. "No," he says absently, then shakes off trying to recall where he was instead. "I heard it was fun?"
"Fun." Piotr remains somewhat grumbly. "Yes. For the students, at least. And Kurt. And Jean. And Kitty." There is a name conspicuously missing from this list, but he seems at least relatively entertained by it. "I will show you," he promises to them both.
Illyana nods, looking intrigued, but frowns at her brother. "You were not liking?" she asks with nosey curiosity. She takes another half a scone, and then remembers to offer the others more too.
Wesley pops the last of his scone in his mouth, his hand darting out to reach for another. Chew & swallow. "Did you ever even see the movie, Pete?" he asks suspiciously.
It is only now that Piotr, drink in hand, can make a start on his scone, and he tips a wry look towards Illyana. "You will see when you watch it. You will laugh," he predicts. "Kitty made me watch the movie. It was quite funny, I thought."
Illyana finishes her third half, and then starts on the crumbs on the plate. "Good," she agrees. "I was meeting someone new," she comments to her brother. "Julio." She glances over at Wesley, and tries to broaden her topic choice. "There are being many new students from when I left," she comments.
"Heck, there are a ton of new ones since /I/ left, and that was only last year," Wesley shrugs. "Keeping everyone's names straight--and I'm horrible with names anyways. Are you in school again then, Illyana?"
Piotr smiles approvingly at the mention of that new acquaintance, nodding and speaking quietly. "Julio is a good person who can feel a little out of place," he says with a pointed look towards his sister. "The two of you could be good company for each other."
"His earthqu--quakes are feeling--" Illyana shivers, and laughs. "I am watching classes, but I am not studying until summer, yes?" She shrugs. "I am trying names and meeting, but it is hard to be talking to people at all." She grimaces.
"Yeah, well, don't feel bad. Even people who grew up here speaking English---me, I mean---have a hard time keeping them all straight," Wesley does washing down the last of his scone with the milk at the bottom of his glass. "And you're /here/ here now?" he asks. "Able to stick around, I mean?"
Looking mildly encouraged at Illyana's positive reaction to Julio's power, Piotr's smile grows still more at Wesley's question, his glance tripping over to his sister with immense fondness. "We will not be losing her again, I do not think."
Illyana draws herself up, very slightly. "I am good in control," she says. She suppresses her reaction to bristle after a moment and smiles in apology. "I am not getting lost again," she says. "I was taking /three/ people back. I can be doing a lot."
"Wow," Wesley is visibly impressed. "That's great. /Really/ great. It's great to be in control, instead of the other way around. 'Specially with powers as cool as yours."
"Yes, certainly," Piotr agrees with a vehement nod, finishing the rest of his scone in a sizeable bite that keeps him quiet beyond this for a moment. "It is a wonderful thing."
"Three is hard. One is better," Illyana hastens to clarify, but she flushes slightly at the flattery. "Cool? You are thinking this?" She laughs. "Many are saying this, but it is not being as my cooking. It is still having danger for others."
"Eh, probably half the people here could be dangerous," Wesley shrugs, not all that concerned with the danger. "S'kinda why we're here in the first place. Make sure we understand what we can do and that we're in control. But say," he says, glancing at the clock above the doorway. "Now I really /should/ get going, if I'm gonna make my train. Thanks, Pete," he adds a fraction of a second later, not really clarifying what it's thanks for.
"Your world is something quite special, I am not the only one to see it," Piotr tells Ilyana, reasserting Wesley's statement before turning to his friend with a tiny inclination of his head as his only response to the thanks. "If you need anything, just call me, yes? After Friday I will have a lot more free time."
"You are going far?" Illyana asks in idle curiosity. "{Too bad I have not been to the place he needs to go,}" she jokes to her brother, as she gives Wesley a nod of farewell.
"Into the city. Midtown," Wesley says, hopping off the stool and snatching up his gym bag. "Not too bad, but if I miss the train, I'll hafta wait another hour for the next one. Good to see you back. Cya guys around. And yeah, excellent scones."
Raising an eyebrow, Piotr looks across at Illyana, then to Wesley and back again. "You know," he hazards, "Wesley does not live so far away from that little park we found in the city, where we went to-- two weeks ago? Three?"
"I can be taking?" Illyana offers hopefully, turning back to Wesley. "I am remembering this park. It is being faster."
"Tak--Ooooh," Wesley says, eyes widening, instantly more than curious. "Uh...you're sure? It's not...any trouble?" Which might not be /just/ the word he was thinking of, but close enough.
"It would be faster," Piotr agrees, "and I think that between the two of you it would be as safe as any train journey, yes? Keep your eyes open, Wesley. There are many things there that you will not see anywhere else."
Illyana grins, bounces up on her toes in anticipation, and opens the red disc she needs beside her before offering a hand to Wesley.
Wesley glances at the disc, then back to Pete. Then with a nod, his puts his actions where his mouth is and takes her hand. "K, let's do this."
"Have a good journey," Piotr bids them with a smile and a nod of farewell to Wesley.
Illyana nods to her brother, and then pulls them both through.
Illyana pulls her guest through into a land filled with moonlight. Stars prick the sky, adding to the wash of light that only only pushes the darkness back to metaphorical arm's length, enough not to stumble too badly, but not enough to see into strange depths of the shadows that hug the curves of path and trees around it. "{If you give me a moment, I will get out the lantern, but that needs both hands, and I need to keep track of you for the moment,}" Illyana says, squeezing their joined hands.
Wesley just nods, caught up in the experience and peering into the darkness beyond them. "Wow," he finally says, voice unconsciously falling into low tones. "So...this is Limbo, huh?"
"{I just think of it as my place,}" Illyana says, shrugging at the name. She draws in a deep breath and then lets go of his hand. She swings a pack off her shoulder, and pulls a lantern from inside, taking a few moments to light it. When she straightens, the light reveals that she has several posessions now that had no analogues in the real world--a sword at her hip, and boots a blouse over her jeans that belong more to this world than the real one. "{It is a shame you cannot see more of it at this time of day,}" she says, starting down the path.
"So...it's like the same time as back...home?" he finally settles on a word. The light is quickly appreciated, then depended on, and as he falls into step beside her, he studies the sword--admiring it as any self-respecting male would. "That is /sooo/ cool."
Illyana notices the admiration, and offers over the lantern so she can draw the sword, in a smooth, practiced movement. It glows with a faint crimson light, not very noticable in daylight, but clear now. "{I am not sure about times,}" she admits. "{The seasons are definitely different. Those here change unpredictably on their own whim.}" The dirt path is starting to become uneven with exposed tree roots, though Illyana steps over each like she doesn't even notice them.
Wesley takes the lantern, holding it with just a bit of amazement. For something not real, it certainly feels it, and he runs a finger along the edge. But then, SWORDS. Cuz they're sharp. Attention is drawn right back to the glowing object. He's not as practiced at avoiding roots, especially with such shiny distractions, and he a foot snags on it, and he just manages to catch his balance before tumbling. "It's so...real. Not at all like I expected."
"{It is real,}" Illyana says, sheathing her sword. "{In its way.}" Her lips quirk. "{I still have my scar in the other world.}" She coughs, and pauses to turn back and look at Wesley more directly. "{Which my brother knows nothing about, and is not going to, please.}" She starts walking again, ranging at the edge of pool of warmth the lantern provides. Vague somethings rustle in the bushes as if pushed aside by that edge.
"Won't hear a peep outta me," Wesley says, raising a hand to his lips. If the rustlings give him cause for worry, he doesn't let it show. After all, can't let a girl show him up there. He's very careful not to let Illyana wander very far, though, keeping right up with her. "So...can you, y'know, do anything to it? Or does it just happen?"
Illyana laughs, turning back a grin on him. "{I am hoping that it does not 'just happen' to you. The crows, at least, will not be out in the dark, so we need not worry about them. I cannot control it except by my skil, if that is what you are asking.}" She pats her sword. A thoughtful look that had entered her expression at her mention of her brother seeps back into in the wake of the laughter. "{You are one of my brother's good friends, yes?}" she asks.
"Crows?" Wesley instinctively looks to the sky, despite the assurance. Nothing moving blots out the stars, and he finally finally gets around to answering her question. "Yeah, guess I'd like to think so. I mean, we kinda were when I was still in school here, but we were pretty different. Still are, I guess, but been through a lot of the same stuff. Nice to know someone's got your back, y'know?"
Illyana skips instinctively over a root that might just have moved--or it might have been the light. She doesn't seem to notice. "{Yes,}" she agrees, and the hesitates. "{He has told me of something that happened while I was gone...and Piotr can sometimes feel so much guilt when it is not necessary, I wanted to talk to others about it, though perhaps I should not.}" She bites her lip. "{And in the other world, I obviously do not have the words for it.}"
"Not necessary..." Wesley repeats the words, in English, chewing at his bottom lip. He starts to continue, then the realization hits. "Not have words. Hey, you're not...not talking English?"
Illyana shakes her head. "{When I bring people here, they seem to understand my Russian,}" she says. "{Unfortunately, I cannot drag someone here just because I have forgotten a word in English.}" She laughs lightly. "{You know what I am refering to? About my brother?}"
Wesley allows a half-smile begins to form at the thought, though the last question keeps it in check. "I do," he finally says. "I didn't at first. I wanted to...well, I just didn't until--aw, heck, half the school probably knows by now already. Until the same thing happened to me. Only different. And it doesn't really matter if people /say/ you shouldn't feel guilty. Cuz I just do, and I can't help it."
Illyana stops to examine Wesley's expression in the uncertain light worriedly. "{To you, also? I am sorry, I did not mean to pry into something sensitive. I only wished to find some way to assure my brother it was not so bad as he thinks.}"
"Heh," Wesley says, slowing his step but not exactly stopping. "Don't be. It's just...something I gotta deal with. But yeah, I'm probably not the best person to give you assurance there. Maybe Jub--" he cuts himself off, not quite able to get the name out. Instead, he lifts the lantern higher, trying to see a bit farther down the path.
"{Jubilee?}" Illyana asks, frowning harder as she tries to figure out the reason for the hesitation. "{I do not wish to make everything worse by pestering those who do not wish to speak of it, of course.}" In the light, a root visibly lifts itself from the ground and snakes down to a slightly different position. Illyana, looking over her shoulder at Wesley, does not see.
Wesley squints, then shakes his head. Roots don't move. The extended lantern is just wavering in its light. Or something like that. He frowns as well. "It's just...it's not easy to forget everything that happened. Or pretend it didn't, or whatever it is people seem to think I should be doing."
"{Difficult,}" Illyana agrees, sympathetic. "{I cannot pretend nothing happened here--}" she gestures around her. "{Though sometimes I wish I could to fit in better.}" This time she sees the root move too, and she stops, hands on hips, following it back to its tree with her eyes. "{You are feeling childish tonight?}" she addresses the tree. Taking advantage of her distraction, a root slides out to twine around Wesley's ankle. Tightly.
Wesley gives a shout, stopped from trying to move forward, and this time he does go down, falling flat on his face, lantern clattering out of his grip a few feet beyond his reach. He thrashes his leg, trying to kick it free.
Illyana whirls, sword coming out. "{Apparently!}" she hisses, stalking the root. Before she can find an angle to chop without endangering Wesley's leg, the root tries to drag him just fair enough to be out of her reach, mostly off the path. "{Can you reach to cut yourself free--?}"
Wesley digs one hand's fingers into the dirt, trying to keep himself from being dragged off, while the other alternately pounds at the root around his ankle and attempts to pry it off. "Nothing...to...cut with," he grunts out, slamming at the root with clenched fist.
Illyana growls under her breath, frustration blooming as she's confronted with her Limbo-based assumption that everyone would at least wear a dagger. She sheathes her sword and takes a quick stride forward, and offers a hand to Wesley to at least stop his slide while she fumbles at her belt for her own dagger. "{I am sorry,}" she says, through a glare she is directing at the offending tree.
Wesley might own a dagger. For show. With the added weight, keeping him from sliding further, he's able to think a bit more clearly, and a watery rope shoots from his hand. "Two can play this game," he mutters, snaking it around the root, and beginning to tug the loop tighter and tighter around the plant.
Illyana blinks in surprise, and stops with the dagger halfway to being reversed to point the handle towards Wesley. The closest tree shivers, dropping needles down on both of them as it shakes angrily. The root beyond the loop writhes, but the curl around Wesley's ankle slowly begins to lose strength.
Wesley will take the dagger still! He yanks harder on his rope, glancing and letting go of Illyana's hand to take the knife with that hand. A quick twist, and he's slashing at the root with one hand, strangling it with the other. "Let me go, you...you, tree."
The tree doesn't wait to be cut, too, but makes an undignified retreat, the root whipping back into the darkness of the underbrush. With the sound of crumbling dirt, the path is also suddenly much, much smoother. Illyana braces a hand on her knee to bend over, and offers Wesley a hand up. "{You would do well in this world,}" she says, with impressed laughter.
Wesley takes the hand, hefting himself back to his feet, a real smile appearing on his face. "Thanks. I think," he says, wiping the dagger off on his jeans and offering it back to her. "Have to say, this has to be the most exciting trip back to the city I've ever had."
Illyana puts the dagger away, and goes to rescue the abandoned lantern. "{It should not be much farther,}" she assures him, looking anxious. "{I am sorry this was not the shortcut we had told you it would be.}"
"Well, at least I still have my wallet," Wesley grins, after patting his pocket to make sure it is still there. "Better than getting mugged in a dark alley, I suppose. Bobby'll get a kick outta this."
"{You will warn him not to accept, if I ever offer to take him anywhere?}" Illyana ask with reasonably good humor. "{Perhaps it is not the most efficient method of travel, except for me. I will have to warn people to come only for the adventure.}" She exhales in amusement with herself.
"I like adventures," Wesley says, confidently. "Well, most of them. So long as I don't /really/ get eaten in the end. "And it's not every day that you almost get eaten by a tree. They should totally do that in the Danger Room sometime.""
"{It was not going to /eat/ you,}" Illyana says in some suprise. "{It would just throw you around, to enjoy your fear. Perhaps hold you for Baba Yaga.}" Her expression darkens. "{/She/ might eat you.}" As they walk, she stands noticably closer, eyes alert for any threats.
"Baba Yaga?" Wesley asks, voice catching slightly, and he hurries his pace just a bit. "Who's that?"
"{A very evil witch,}" Illyana says. "{But do not worry, I would know if she was near. I tricked her once, and promised her my heart, which I hid, so she searches for that. She knows I would not have it with me, so she leaves me alone.}"
"Say...what?" Wesley just blinks, and gapes. Then cleans out his ear. "Your /heart/?"
"{Not--}" Illyana struggles to articulate the concept. "{Not the muscle that pumps blood in your world.}" She places a hand on her chest. "{But my /real/ heart. If you concentrate very hard, you can see yours glowing, in its proper place, where mine is dark.}" She points to Wesley's chest, and then pats her own again.
Wesley glances down, studying the front of his shirt until whether it's a trick of his eyes or not, he does see some faint glowing. He peers over at Illyana, concentrating on her--ahem, chest. He looks away suddenly, grateful for the dim light hiding his reddening face. "How...but what..." he stammers just a bit, "How do you take out your heart? Isn't it...weird not having it there?"
"{Carefully.}" Illyana smiles, slightly. "{I would show you, but--}" She flexes her fingers against that spot and then drops her hand, shrugging. "{I can still feel it. It is safe with a very dear friend, too, so can feel him, too.}"
With as many strange things as Wesley's encountered, he's to recognize the Stuff Wesley Just Doesn't Get. And removed hearts, Indiana Jones aside, are one of those, so he finally just shakes his head. "If you say so. Is it...y'know, still gone when you're back...in New York?"
Illyana looks up at the stars, silent for several moments. "{I do not know. I know I feel a powerful pull to return here, even after I spent two years trying to get back. Perhaps that is the reason.}" She coughs, uncomfortable, coming back to earth. "{Nevermind.}"
Well, after she was kind enough not to push with his awkward topics, Wesley could hardly do any less, and lets it drop. "Sorry," he mumbles, glancing around in the darkness. "'Most there?"
"{Yes,}" Illyana says, and pauses for a moment, as they round a bend in the path. A red point of light appears in front of them, garish in the dark, and widens into a full disc. "{We should arrive out of sight, I hope,}" she says, offering her hand.
Wesley takes the hand, a mix between ready and hesitant. "This time of night, yeah. Okay," he says, taking a deep breath.
"{Good,}" Illyana says, and pulls him through. She does not step all the way into the park herself, leaving one foot behind in the open disc as she gestures Wesley forward. Her Russian is incomprehensible again, and after a moment she realizes this, and smiles in apology. "Sorry," she says, generally. "Thank you for coming."
"Thanks for the...uh, ride, I guess," Wesley chuckles, stepping off the disk as he lets go of her hand. "And for showing me your world. Adventure, huh?"
"Adventure," Illyana agrees with a smile, and waves farewell as she steps back into her world, and takes the light with her.
Peter knows how to prod Wesley from his moroseness--sic Illyana on him.