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Strange holds his head in his hands as he sits at the small kitchen table. It's pushed to one side in the room, which isn't all that big in and of itself. He still wears the red silk bathrobe because he couldn't bring himself to leave Illyana alone and change. He reveals his face as he reaches for his half-finished glass of Metracal and it's currently reflecting a tired frown. The liquid is still cool, not cold, and he takes another sip with a grimace.
Breakfast had been a minor fiasco. His 'apprentice' was now likely up in the Rose Room, likely still fuming about something, and likely as not trying to part the wards of the Sanctum to escape yet again. He throws back the rest of the nutritional shake, much like a shot of rotgut liquor, and gags slightly as his stomach reluctantly accepts it. He needs tea. The chair scrapes against the white marble floor as he rises and slowly walks over to the sink. It takes another minute or two for the kettle to begin boiling and he leans against the counter. He's weary in spirit now. This has been an immense challenge for him thus far. For the first time in a /very/ long time, Strange is considering asking for help.
The tea is steeping when a glimmer of an idea comes to his mind. The thought was triggered by the tea itself. He hasn't spoken to the man in a while now, but perhaps…just perhaps he would be open to assisting Strange. Hope makes Strange's eyes brighten and the corners of his mouth turn up as he blows the steam from the tea cup. Maybe is good.
He manipulates some aspects of the Sanctum's acoustics and says loudly, not quite yelling,
*
"Illyana! Please come down to the kitchen, we have an errand to run." He doesn't wait for her to respond before he begins readying himself.
*
Strange holds his head in his hands as he sits at the small kitchen table. It's pushed to one side in the room, which isn't all that big in and of itself. He still wears the red silk bathrobe because he couldn't bring himself to leave Illyana alone and change. He reveals his face as he reaches for his half-finished glass of Metracal and it's currently reflecting a tired frown. The liquid is still cool, not cold, and he takes another sip with a grimace.
Breakfast had been a minor fiasco. His 'apprentice' was now likely up in the Rose Room, likely still fuming about something, and likely as not trying to part the wards of the Sanctum to escape yet again. He throws back the rest of the nutritional shake, much like a shot of rotgut liquor, and gags slightly as his stomach reluctantly accepts it. He needs tea. The chair scrapes against the white marble floor as he rises and slowly walks over to the sink. It takes another minute or two for the kettle to begin boiling and he leans against the counter. He's weary in spirit now. This has been an immense challenge for him thus far. For the first time in a /very/ long time, Strange is considering asking for help.
The tea is steeping when a glimmer of an idea comes to his mind. The thought was triggered by the tea itself. He hasn't spoken to the man in a while now, but perhaps…just perhaps he would be open to assisting Strange. Hope makes Strange's eyes brighten and the corners of his mouth turn up as he blows the steam from the tea cup. Maybe is good.
He manipulates some aspects of the Sanctum's acoustics and says loudly, not quite yelling,
*
"Illyana! Please come down to the kitchen, we have an errand to run." He doesn't wait for her to respond before he begins readying himself.
*
Strange holds his head in his hands as he sits at the small kitchen table. It's pushed to one side in the room, which isn't all that big in and of itself. He still wears the red silk bathrobe because he couldn't bring himself to leave Illyana alone and change. He reveals his face as he reaches for his half-finished glass of Metracal and it's currently reflecting a tired frown. The liquid is still cool, not cold, and he takes another sip with a grimace.
Breakfast had been a minor fiasco. His 'apprentice' was now likely up in the Rose Room, likely still fuming about something, and likely as not trying to part the wards of the Sanctum to escape yet again. He throws back the rest of the nutritional shake, much like a shot of rotgut liquor, and gags slightly as his stomach reluctantly accepts it. He needs tea. The chair scrapes against the white marble floor as he rises and slowly walks over to the sink. It takes another minute or two for the kettle to begin boiling and he leans against the counter. He's weary in spirit now. This has been an immense challenge for him thus far. For the first time in a /very/ long time, Strange is considering asking for help.
*
"Illyana! Please come down to the kitchen, we have an errand to run." He doesn't wait for her to respond before he begins readying himself.
*
The tea is steeping when a glimmer of an idea comes to his mind. The thought was triggered by the tea itself. He hasn't spoken to the man in a while now, but perhaps…just perhaps he would be open to assisting Strange. Hope makes Strange's eyes brighten and the corners of his mouth turn up as he blows the steam from the tea cup. Maybe is good.
He manipulates some aspects of the Sanctum's acoustics and says loudly, not quite yelling,
*
"Illyana! Please come down to the kitchen, we have an errand to run." He doesn't wait for her to respond before he begins readying himself.
*
"Illyana! Please come down to the kitchen, we have an errand to run." He doesn't wait for her to respond before he begins readying himself.
*
Using a familiar low-energy spell, he gestures broadly over his body and flicks his wrist. There's a quiet 'whump' of warping reality, along with a subtle ripple in the air, and he's wearing his blue leather garb, the usual get-up for errand-running. The Cape would have been a bit much. He hurriedly finishes his tea and feels much more human now.
*
Illyana, like every teenager ever, is incapable of walking like a human being when aggravated. THUMP. Thump thump thump. THUMP *SLAM* *drag drag drag*.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP down the stairs and a long-suffering sigh.
"There. I have clothes on. Happy?" Illyana is wearing her rough burlap/wool dress, muddy brown and sewn like a sack. It's still wet in places, and looks as if it were washed in a sink, wrung out, then recently donned again. "If I had other clothes, I'd wear them."
She eyes the man when he swirls his hands and garbs himself, making careful note of the gestures for another time. "Where are we going? Off to get real food? I thought you were going to poison me with those vegetable shakes."
*
"If I wanted to kill you, they would be straight vegetable shakes," he responds coolly. He stares at her for another few seconds before looking up at the ceiling pensively, as if offering some sort of prayer for his sanity.
"Would you like to change into proper clothing before we leave or are you going to wear your gunney sack?" His steel-blue eyes settle on her again. He can't help but look her up and down before shaking his head.
*
Meanwhile, in Westchester, Xavier has only just realized that it is August 4th and that the school year is fast approaching. Where did the summer go? Not having a class this summer was supposed to extend the break and make him feel rejuvenated. He is anything but. Currently he's heading down the hallway on the way down to the Danger Room in order to get some training done. To be honest, he's not big on this sort of thing. He's not as athletic as most of his students, and worries that should the time come, he may be some hindrance to them on upcoming missions.
Rather than mope about it, he resolves to change the situation.
*
"Change into what? All you've got in that closet are dresses for a woman who's…" Illyana looks Strange up and down. "Six foot something and built like a rake." She sniffs and walks to the door, bare, dirty feet whispering on the floor.
"Where are we going then, huh?" she asks, her tone one of cool disinterest.
*
Strange watches his apprentice walk to the front door with slitted eyes. He is /not/ going to have his reputation sullied with any implication of uncaring on his part, even if he has literally nothing to do with the choices of his apprentice.
"We're going to visit a friend of mine, Professor Xavier. He is the headmaster of a private school and I believe it's high time that we spoke with him." He raises his hands, halfway through forming the thought and gathering willpower to cast the same clothing-manipulation spell on Illyana, and then pauses. He must keep good faith with her if he is to be her tutor. The Ancient One always allowed him his choices as to teach him the consequences. He aborts the spell and instead, opens a rift to the front gates of Xavier's mansion. Through the window in reality, he can see the silvery metal bars of the mansion's walls and the rolling green expanse of the front lawn. "Illyana, over here. We aren't walking there." He sighs and adds, "I will ask one last time: are you wearing your gunney sack or do you want my assistance?" He will change her clothing into whatever she sees fit. Let Xavier do what he will with her afterwards.
*
"What's the point?" It seems to utterly elude Illyana why she'd need anything more than the mean gunnysack, and she falls into step next to Strange. Maybe even a half pace ahead, as if trying to prove to him that she doesn't just HAVE to follow him everywhere— though she does hang a half a pace when he so effortlessly portals them from the Sanctum's front door to… a rather posh sort of mansion?
Illyana steps on the greenery very timidly. "This won't cut me, yes? What is this green stuff?" she inquires. She inhales through her nose, sharply— sniffing like a wild animal catching a scent. "That smell, what's that /smell/, it's… fantastic," she says, eyes wide. "It's clean. I've never smelt something so clean."
Off in the distance, a young mutant spots two figures simply *blipping* into existence on the Mansion's front yawn, and scampers off to find An Adult. As it happens, the first adult the kid finds is Charles.
"Prof'esr! Prof'esr! There's some weirdos on the lawn!" he shouts, in a high pitched voice not quite ready to crack.
*
Charles stops in his tracks and tilts his head in confusion. His pace picks up a bit in order to head off whatever mystery this might be. But when he reaches out with his mind, he realizes a familiarity with a man he's not spoken with in some time. "It's nothing of concern. It is a friend."
A few moments later, Xavier, dressed in grey sweat pants and shirt, smiles as he walks along the lawn. "Stephen Strange. It has been quite some time. And a guest?" He turns toward Illyana and gives a nod, "Hello."
*
"It's grass," Strange says quietly as he takes his place beside Illyana on the mansion's front lawn. He's hoping that Xavier won't be too offended at the intrusion. He meant for them to step out onto the drive /outside/ of the front gates; it shows that one must really be focused when opening rifts in reality. But really now - grass. She doesn't know about grass? His brows dip in a pensive manner as he entertains the flush of pity that colors his thoughts now. Poor thing. He is more certain now than before that Xavier can aid her transition into society.
He feels the brush of the Professor's identification of him along his psyche and glances up towards the mansion. At first, he's somewhat surprised that Xavier is showing such nonchalance in his clothing and bearing, especially with his status in not only the mansion, but the world of supernatural humans itself. Then Strange smiles to himself. Xavier would know best how to approach them, especially if he'd managed to glean even a bit of an impression of Illyana's psyche.
"Professor Xavier," he calls back as he walks towards Charles. They stop short of each other. Strange gives the man a curt nod of greeting. "It has been some time, yes. May I introduce my…" he pauses, glancing at her, and then continues with a huff; "My apprentice, Illyana."
*
Illyana is a ragged, tattered little wisp of a thing— blonde hair badly in need of a wahs and comb, dirt and stains clinging to her bare feet. Her dress is the meanest of bags, barely a sack with arm holes and hanging to her knees.
But she turns a cool blue eye to Xavier, looking thoroughly unintimidated by either of the men now bracketing her. Still still has to look /up/ at Charles, which rankles a little, but she passes it off as no concern. There's some muscle in her forearms, though, and the calluses on her hands that you don't get washing pots and pans.
And the fact that to Xavier's exquisitely honed senses, Illyana reads as… null. Strange is human, if a profoundly complex and complicated one, but there's almost no sense of Illyana at all. Her thoughts, memories, emotions, all blanketed by that cooly superior look in her cornflower blue eyes.
"Don't get hung up on the apprentice thing," Illyana tells Xavier, eyes flicking once to Strange. "Neither of us are happy of it." Her English is a bit… odd? Correct, but not precise, and there are strong Slavic angles to the ends of her words.
*
Xavier doesn't readily make an issue of her hair, her dirty exterior, or bare feet. Indeed, he seems to pay it no mind at all. Instead he gives her a smile and nods. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Illyana." As she mentions the apprentice thing, he cannot help but chuckle.
"Well, call it what you wish. Your business is your own. That being said, how can I help you two?"
*
A highly-arched eyebrow is Strange's only response to his apprentice's tart comment. He's glad for Xavier's light-hearted take on the whole thing. Personally, he can't wait to hand off Illyana to the man. This particular teenager girl is something beyond his realm of current understanding and patience.
"I'm hoping you'll indulge us, Professor." He hates asking for help and it shows in his fidgeting. He finally ends up in a stiff-kneed stance with crossed arms. "Illyana is new to our…world. I can't provide her with certain necessities in order to acclimate her to…this." He gestures broadly at everything around them. "If you could offer her a brief stay with your students, I feel she would benefit greatly from it."
*
Illyana remains silent for a beat, for once. Her bare toes curl into the grass, betraying a bit of anxiety, and her eyes flicker towards Strange when he says 'brief stay'. Brief could mean anything. Brief could be code for 'I'm not coming back'.
Unconsciously, she steps half a pace closer to the towering sorceror. Despite her antipathy towards him, it's clear that she's uneasy about the idea of being simply turned over to someone else's notional custody, no matter how the argument might have played out even a day prior. She glances to Xavier uncertainly, as if trying to get a read on the fellow.
*
"Well, we have plenty of students and young people who stay here in all different varying degrees. Illyana, you may stay here as long as you wish. If you would like, I can have a room made up for you. Dinner is…" Charles looks at his watch. "In about 3 hours."
"Our school is a place where mutants or students in bad situations can come to live or stay for a short time as they come to grips with themselves. Some come to learn their powers. Others come to lay low. Still others come to avoid terrible situations. If your circumstances are something you wish to share, please feel free. If not, I understand."
*
"My name is Illyana Rasputina," the girl tells Charles, squaring with him a little. Not hostile, just… ready. For whatever. Oh, she's a fighter, this one, even if she's putting on a bit of a brave face.
"I don't know this word, mutant," she says, glancing at Strange. "I don't have home. Not anymore. Family is gone. I was prisoner, but I broke free and killed him," she says, eyes flashing. "And then this one-" she tosses her head at Strange— "Said he must tutor me. I understand tutor, but…" She stalls, her face twisting. She can't quite find the words, and it's tripping her. She's lonely. It's written into the grief lines near her eyes, and it explains the way she remains in Strange's proximity despite their visible antipathy.
*
While Illyana is explaining her circumstances, Strange is slowly relaxing in every line of his body. Thank Vishanti and all of the dimensional deities that the man is allowing her to stay for a time at the mansion. He ponders, very briefly, asking if Xavier will allow Illyana to stay there permanently, and then logic catches up to his ego. Agamotto didn't have to mention consequences in their past discussion about tutoring Illyana. They are always implied and always horrible beyond reason. Regardless, he wants - no, needs - to get back to the Sanctum and meditate. He clears his throat after Illyana peters off.
"As I mentioned before, I believe you to be the best and most expedient way for Illyana to become less of a menace to society." Even as the words left his mouth, his brain was railing at him to take them back. He paused, mouth half-open, before his ears flushed bright red. His half-step away from Illyana was stilted and he averted his face before muttering to all in hearing range, "Forgive me. That was uncalled for." He inhales and faces everyone again. "For Illyana to become more comfortable in her own skin."
*
Xavier nods at Illyana's words. "I see. It seems you have been through a great amount of stress. Should you decide to stay with us I hope you find this place a source of refuge in your life. As far as tutoring, that is something we can provide should you need it. I cannot really tell you ways we can offer to help you until we know each other better."
Charles nods to Strange, "Well, getting her to feel comfortable in her own skin would certainly be one of our goals."
*
Illyana turns red at Strange's cutting commentary. Then, literally red— her skin glows with diffuse saffron energies as her ire manifests as actual sorcerous frustration.
With a seething, low breath, she exhales through her teeth and unclenches her fists. He's not /wrong/, of course, but she's visibly contemplating slugging the tall sorceror.
She looks at Xavier, blowing away the rest of her ire, and nods once, a bit curtly. "I'm… trying," she relents, finally. "This is new. Strange and I have had four fights already. It's clear one of us" she looks daggers at him "or both of us aren't able to handle things well." She looks back at Charles.
"I'm here because I have to be. But I'll live in the forest before I'll be anyone's scullery maid again," she says, bluntly.
*
Strange is honestly worried for a moment when he sees how Illyana's skin literally changes color before him. His hands are rising from his hips to the space before him, ready to cast a suppression spell, when he sees that she's controlling it /herself/. She's breathing in a cycle, willing it all away. For the very first time, a litle sprout of pride blooms deep within him. She isn't wrong though, with her comment about handling things.
They're both wrong and clearly, both will benefit from some distance.
"I doubt Professor Xavier will let you sleep in the bushes," he says with faint cajoling amusement in his voice. He's still aching with embarrassment from his earlier comment, though he's hiding it much better now. To Xavier, he nods once again. "I shall check in with you later on this week. Until then, don't hesitate to contact me if any intervention is needed." And Strange means /any/ sort of intervention, from his mere presence all of the way to a need for containment. With that, he turns and walks back to the open rift leading to the Sanctum.
At the edges of the crackling golden-laced opening, he pauses and then turns back to address Illyana.
"Do not hesitate to contact me as well." And he walks through the portal on that note, sealing it behind him.
*
"Well, Illyana, I do not intend to make you do anything you do not wish to. Therefore, if you would prefer to live in our woods, that can be arranged. I feel that our beds are much more comfortable, of course, but the decision is yours. I do not think anyone here has any desire to control you. That being said we all do have our chores here. Myself included. So there is that." Charles shrugs his shoulders as if to say that there's not much he can do about that.
"It was good seeing you, Stephen. I will let you know about her progress."
*
Illyana watches Strange leave, standing there staring after the portal for long moments after it fades. "I can do chores. I pull my weight. But I won't be a servant." She looks back to Xavier, squaring her shoulders, and nods. "All right. Let's go see this place." She eyes the mansion, padding on the soft grass and making no bones about enjoying the feel of it on her bare feet.
*