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It's still summer in New York, and even if the temperature is starting to drop, it's far more than what Rory Sinclair is used to. He's spending a lot of time outdoors in his wolf form trying to beat the heat and avoid burning his rather fair skin used to cloudy Scottish days. And right now, he's running around the grounds of the Xavier School, a red wolf chasing some of the resident squirrels up trees around the Mansion.
*
Illyana watches with a fascinated expression, sitting on the roof overhanging the Institute's west wing porch— technically a 'sheltered walkway', as upscale New England mansions don't have something as provincial as a 'porch'. Still, it's where kids sneak off to smoke and make out away from prying eyes, so, a porch it is.
Naturally, Illyana's more comfortable on top of it than under it. She sits with her ankles crossed and hugging her knees to her chest, chin resting on a knobbly patella, and watching as Rory yips, twists, and generally has a hell of a good time chasing squirrels.
In truth, it looks like a ton of fun, but Illyana lacks the requisite number of paws to participate.
*
After his latest target scampers up a tree, Rory sits on his haunches, scratching behind his ear with a hind leg. And then, his canine nose detects a faint scent. It's not woodland critters, but something more (or less) human. There's also a trace of the feminine in the scent, and Rory slowly turns to look up and find the blonde girl watching him. Wincing inside, Rory swallows hard, and shifts back to his human form. Rory is blushing hard, his cheeks almost as red as his hair as he sheepishly looks up at her.
*
Illyana doesn't seem surprised by Rory's shapeshifting, watching with wide-eyed and frank curiousity. It's a bit unnerving, really, particularly as she lacks any sense of the social scruples that would normally spare someone from such intense observation.
"You didn't catch any," she says, voice carrying across the short distance between the roof and the wolfboy. "It looked like you were trying, but they kept getting away. Are you a bad hunter?" she inquires, in a perfunctory tone that's somehow lacking any malfeasant intent.
*
And Rory blushes even harder now. "I…I wasn't trying ta catch 'em," he admits. He's soft spoken, but he raises his voice to be barely heard by here. "I've hunted deer before," Rory offers in his defense. "I just don't like huntin' for sport. Food's a 'nother thing, though." He can't help but stare at her for a while, then he coughs and looks away. "Ah'm Rory," he says as an introduction.
*
The lanky blonde girl sways her knees back and forth, considering him as if debating whether or not to speak.
"Illyana," she says, finally, as the silence approaches awkwardness. "Illyana Nikolevina Rasputin. You probably know Piotr, my brother," she says, chin still propped on her knees. "Big and silver. And big."
She unfolds her legs and rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forward to examine Rory critically. "You are new to the Institute?"
*
Rory nods. "Aye. I met him th' other day. And aye, I'm new to th' Institute. Just arrived here, and to America, last week." He keep looking up at her, now looking a bit uncomfortable. "D' ye always have conversations like this sittin' all th' way up there? Seems a bit daft to be shoutin' all th' time."
*
"You should have been chasing squirrels on the roof. Then I wouldn't have to speak up," Illyana points out, in a perfectly reasonable tone.
"I am new, too. I came to America only…" She counts on her fingers. "Six weeks ago. Brother Piotr here, so, I come to America to study at Institute with him. And with Dr. Strange, but— that is more side thing," she says, in a thick but very articulate Russian accent.
*
"How d' ye like it here in America? And here at th' school?" He looks a bit happier that she's new here as well. "I think it's grand, m'self. Not even Lord MacTaggart had a home like this! It's a palace, sure enough." Yelling up at here is getting a bit tiresome, and he sighs. "Well, I can'nae get up there," Rory complains. "D' ye think ye can come down here? For a proper chat?"
*
"Sure." Illyana takes a big step and jumps off the roof, then tucks into an athletic roll, and fetches up to her feet after impacting the grass. She comes up with a few stains on her short grey dress, and peers owlishly Rory.
"Is not a palace. My home is a palace, and is fifty times bigger than this," Illyana tells Rory.
"Well, maybe ten times," she amends, a beat later. She's a feral little thing, hair tangled and her dress wrinkled with a bit of disdain for propriety.
*
Rory's eyes go wide at both Illyana's athleticism and her claim of housing. "Really?" he asks breathlessly. He looks over the girl again, noticing her appearance and frame. "Are ye…are ye a fairy princess?" In the wilds of Scotland, the fae are very much alive and well in the minds of the locals. "I dinnae know that the Fair Folk lived in Russia," he muses. "I don't think th' Queen of England herself lives in such a fine house, so if yours is bigger, it has to be magnificent an' magical."
*
"Princess? No. I am Queen of Limbo," Illyana says, correcting him with a meticulous (and poorly feigned attempt at humble) air. "Mine by right of conquest— spoils of war," she explains, quite proud of her assertion and not at all minding how insane the statement sounds.
Then again, she /is/ talking to a modern-day werewolf, so…
"What of you? Are you from this land of Scots?" she guesses, giving her a wrinkle-nosed once over.
*
"Aye," Rory says with a smile. "Scotland. It's just right north of England, on the same island. I lived my whole life there until Lord MacTaggart sent me to America." His shoulders slump and his smile fades. "Folks there…after I first changed…they said I was a demon. They were lookin' to burn me alive." He shudders at the thought. "But Lord MacTaggart, he protected me. Sent me here to get an education an' learn about mutans an' the like." Rory looks back to Illyana and gives her a curious glance. "Is Limbo in Russia? I really dinnae know much about Russia. But I heard they once had kings an' queens there too. Are ye related to them?"
*
"No. Well, maybe," Illyana amends. "Piotr would know."
She gives him an odd look as he conflates Limbo with Russia. "Limbo is not of Earth. Is dimension of chaos and intent, not of physics and consequence. You must be powerful sorceror to access Limbo, or be able to walk between the veil between worlds— or be Queen of Limbo," she says. "I may travel there as I please."
She gives him a brief up and down again. "You are too short to be lupinius. And most demons are decidedly unattractive. You smell like wet dog" she sniffs the air "but are not hard on eyes. Still, would probably get eaten quickly. Is fine— Limbo dangerous place."
*
Rory listens to Illyana in rapt attention as she speaks of her power. "So, you're a witch, then?" he asks her cautiously. It's never wise to offend a witch. "But a good one? I mean, a nice one? Ye seem like a nice girl…" And then, with tha compiment and with Illyana saying he's not hard on the eyes, Rory's back to blushing, lowering his head like a dog trying to hide. "I…ummm…I…thank ye?" He's really not sure how to reply to that, except by looking back at her shyly, shoulders still hunched. "Ye…ye look really pretty yerself."
*
Illyana seems unaware of the fact she turns a shade of pink at the praise, keeping her chin authoritatively raised upwards. "No. Sorceress," she corrects Rory, like it makes all the difference in the world. "Witches… er… do… things differently than I. I, am Sorceress Supreme of Limbo, as well as Queen."
"I am still working on my magic, here," she admits, a bit later— someone's managed to force a core of honesty in her at some point. "But someday, I will become Sorceress Supreme of Earth as well."
*
"Oh," Rory says as if he comepletely understands what Illyana just said. "But, if ye're…this..Sorceress Supreme of Earth…can ye still be th' Sorceress Supreme of Limbo?" He scratches his head, looking very much the same as when he was scratching his head in his wolf form. "It sounds like quite a lot to handle. Or, would ye give the…the job in Limbo to someone else? An' do ye have to beat the Sorceress Supreme on Earth to take her job?"
*
"His job. Maybe!" Illyana says, cheerily. "I killed the former Sorceror Supreme of Limbo, and then Limbo became mine. So, I imagine if I killed Dr. Strange, I could become Sorceror Supreme, here! Which is a shame, because I rather like him a little," she admits, "but— someday someone will possibly try to kill me and take over Limbo. Is all a beautiful, violent cycle," she sighs, happily. "Still, if had to chose— maybe Earth. Better food than Limbo, and demons are not constantly irritating me and then getting shoved in giant wasp nests for irritating me."
*
Again, Rory looks all agog at Illyana, clearly impressed with her. "Are ye really as powerful as all that? Ye actually command and punish demons?" There's a small part of him, the part raised by Reverend Craig, shouting alarms and warning in his head; she'd a tool of the Devil and not to be trusted! But, the greater par of him remembers being called a demon himself. Sometimes, dealing with demons doean't make one a bad person, he decides. "If ye can do all that, you must be very powerful already. Maybe ye could use that power to make Limbo a better place?" He gives her a shy smile. "Maybe a place with better food, aye?"
*
"Of course! Demons are mine to command. Watch!" Illyana steps back two big spaces, and slams a heel into the ground, the grass erupting into a blazing font of white light five feet across. She strikes her heel into the ground again. "S'ym! S'YM! S'YM!" she bellows, quite loudly, the circle thirty feet across and blazing with yellow energy.
"GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!" she shouts, the ground quaking and ultrasonic noises well beyond human hearing warping the air.
There's an eruption of air pressure being exchanged, the sweet grass of Xavier's lawn swapping with something that reeks of petrichor and ozone. A towering demon's head roars out of the aether, vast and behorned with jutting, fanged maw and dark aubergine flesh. It resolves into something over a dozen feet tall, with a vaguely humanoid form but over-long limbs with flesh-ripping talons that drip with black ichor.
"MISTRESS CALLS. S'YM ANSWERS. IS IT TIME FOR MY PUNISHMENT TO END?"
"See? Mistress!" Illyana says, flinging her arms up at the towering monster in the circle.
S'ym rolls his eyes a little, and looks a bit… put out at being summoned.
*
The display of power is impressive. Very impressive. So impressive that Rory jumps back a bit in shock. And he's shocked enough that his reflexively activates his powers. And by the time S'ym answers Illyana's call, Rory is gone and in his place is a 9 foot tall, red furred human/wolf hybrid, growling and claws out ready to fight in case this S'ym attacks Rory or Illyana.
*
"Wow!" Illyana cheers when Rory transmutes himself, and kips in the air and claps wildly. "Oh my goodness! You can transform! That's amazing!" she cheers, giggling madly.
S'ym emits a heavy, long-suffering sigh, like a great bellows below a smithy— full of flame and black hate. "MISTRESS. I MUST MANIFEST BEFORE I CAN EAT YOUR PET," he reminds her.
"Da, da, another time— was showing off. Back you go, S'ym! You may have one hour's reprieve from the wasps," she tells the demon. "Eat anyone you like but don't mess up any of my property or my lovely mushroom forests."
"AS MISTRESS COMMANDS. S'YM IS GRATEFUL." Looking entirely unimpressed by Rory's transformation, S'ym disappears into the glowing circle as if the ground gave way below him, and the light flickers and then goes out, leaving two cloven footprints seared into the grass.
"Such a pretty trick! How do you do it?" Illyana says, moving to Rory and prodding at him with little concern for her personal safety.
*
Rory growls in a deep, rumbling tone and bares his fangs. Gone is the shy boy; this is a predator facing down another predator in a display of dominance. After S'ym leaves, Rory stares after him, still growling. For a moment, when Illyana starts poking at him, Rory reflxively turns to her and growls. His panting breath is hot on her face as he looms over her, and for a moment, it looks like he's going to attack her. But then, Rory starts shrinking, his limbs and body contorting back to his human form. Once back to normal, Rory looks at Illyana with panic in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he starts. "I'm sorry. Lord, I'm so sorry…I'm just glad I dinnae hurt you!" The panicked look starts fading after he confirms that Illyana isn't hurt or even cringing in fear. "It's my mutant power," he explains. "I can transform into a wolf. Or…that thing. I can control myself when I'm in that werewolf body. Barely. I can get…angry." Hopefully, that's all the explanation she needs.
*
There probably aren't many humans who can stare down a werewolf, but Illyana does it utterly fearlessly. Then again, with the cowed deference S'ym showed her, it's pretty likely she really /can/ handle herself. Either that, or she's insane— or has a death wish.
Probably insane.
"Is a very good mutant power," Illyana tells Rory, vaguely sensing his distress. She pauses, then with the grace of a newborn seal, reaches out and pats his shoulder with a stiffened palm. "There, there," she says. "I am not mutant," she says. "No mutant power— just Queen of Limbo."