1386/Happy Birthday: Segue

Happy Birthday: Segue
Date of Scene:	26 April 2020
Location:	Main Foyer
Synopsis:	No one is yeeted out of Xavier's. Thank Dani.
Cast of Characters:	Illyana Rasputina, Danielle Moonstar, Piotr Rasputin

---

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Dichotomies. Nine and klatuverata*muffled*teen-sort-ish. The girl who vanished as a child younger than most of the students ever crossing Xavier's doors and returning as a near adult is bound through the foyer with an artful stalk. Her shadow laps at the walls and paints across the floor, measured in human terms. Still. Illyana's blonde hair sways as she carefully plucks the party hat from her head, unpeeling the stretchy elastic strap from the metal holes punched into it. The paper doesn't stand a chance from being torn and unraveled neatly, a small but satisfying act of destruction. Ahead of her, the doors lead out to the grounds. No signs of power out of control, things gone wrong: she isn't a teenager with their hormonal tantrum pouring molten cheese or shaking up the walls.

Danielle Moonstar has posed:
Shortly after Illyana leaves the kitchen, Dani follows. She follows with not one, but two slices of cake in hand. She's not following with the urgency of one concerned about powers going out of control. No, she's following with the completely mundane concern from one friend to another.

"Illy," she calls as she moves away from the kitchen. Not running, but moving swiftly enough to try to catch up. "Wait for me."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr comes busting out of the room, a horror far worse on his face than the one when he realized he forgot a gift, the haste of which brought about this situatino. He calls out, in Russian "Little sister! I am so sorry!" He covers ground as quickly as he can, feeling crushed as he moves forward quickly.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Far be it from Illyana to ignite the party hat like a makeshift Molotov. She does, however, halt to crumple the ravaged colourful paper in her hand and grit her teeth hard enough that her jaw flexes, muscles aching to the pressure exerted against them. When she looks back over her shoulder, the pallid heights of features cut like a statue in the Hermitage rather than one of the tourists outside gives something of an uncanny impression. What little blue tinge her eyes normally muster is absent, drowned in the fading ice of a long winter. "Dani?" she asks. It's never easy to tell if her direct tone is a thing of Russian nature or purposefully burying her mood. "Jenny will not like people bailing on her party."

She nods to the door, though she isn't running from Dani. Piotr is another story and the smaller of the Rasputins holds firm like she rather expects to be plowed over. "Brother."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Dani's in pursuit of Illyana with two pieces of cake, because no world problem cannot be solved by birthday cake. Piotr moves at speed to close the distance. Illyana, predictably, has ruined her party hat. Nothing is on fire!

Danielle Moonstar has posed:
That Illyana isn't running makes it easier for Dani to catch up and the woman approaches and offers out one of the plates. "You forgot your cake." She knows the blonde didn't, but still. It's something. There's a small smile offered for her and she gives a shrug. "Jenny will get over it. You're my friend. You looked like you needed... well, a friend and she had plenty of people around. Plus-" she leans in as if talking conspiratorially. "I forgot to get a gift."

Settling back on her heels, she lifts her other hand, holding her plate... and that lantern. "Also, I think this is one of yours and I didn't want it left sitting around in the stables."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
"What I did was wrong," Piotr says, a little emotion breaking through into his tone, "I did not mean to ignore you, I was in haste and I was not thinking." He sighs and rubs his forehead, "I... I am so sorry."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"It is Jenny's party. Why should I not get over this?" Logic, however circuitous, closes a gap that might be a very real inquiry rummaging around in Illyana's head. She is reluctant but takes the plate of cake from Dani with her left hand, the right reserved for destroying party hats and expressly not littering on the floor like some card-throwing mutants. "Thank you." A touch hollow and definitely ten degrees below standard response, she still nods with a supple abruptness for the offer. Her frosty gaze slides to the lantern. Its shadows quiver in response, ultraviolet edging dimmed down. Oh, yes, that lantern /knows/ her. The dice-sized daemon within isn't very happy about the proximity. "The daemon was left as an invitation to a game. You earned it. It will stay until you want to give it back."

These facts are easy to address. The wounded psyche can address them, but addressing the much older, much lionized brother takes a kind of fortitude forcing her scarred, fractured soul to bleed a little more. To bleed when she so very much fights against ever showing that vulnerability. The air around her has a crackling static it shouldn't. "Da. The gift came first. You were distracted, brother." Clipped words come out at a soft volume, which gives their cutting power a subtler force. The plate of cake quivers again. No, no squishing the plate. "<<Just like the stupid tractor>>," comes out a little more bitter sounding than it should. Yeah, pissed. She knows it's petulant, and it comes out anyway. Even if it makes her stare awfully hard at the wall and grimace after saying it.

Danielle Moonstar has posed:
"Because emotions are what they are, Illyana. We don't always control them." Dani remains calm, voice even. She even offers a small smile. "Yes, it is her party, but you are you. You are your own person. There are things that are very important to you, such as your brother-" she looks over toward Piotr. There's a lift of brows. "And family is very important."

The lantern gets a little look, a little bit of thought. "Mmm. An invitation to a game? So long as it isn't dangerous." Though dangerous is always... debatable in this place. "I'll hold onto it, then." She balances her plate carefully in her hand. She's not eating the cake yet, but she does take a step back to let the two siblings talk. Particularly when they delve into Russian. It's all Greek to her.

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr appears visibly wounded by the Russian commentary, the large Russian humbled by it, and responds in Russian <<That is fair. I failed you then, as well, though I swear I had no intention of ignoring you, in either case. I am so sorry. I will try to prevent failing again in the future.>> He slumps, losing a significant amount of his heigh as his eyes are aimed at the floor, the sadness not even from the lack of cake for himself. <<You are my only sister, and someone I would fight tooth and nail for, and have crossed an ocean for. But I understand the anger, and I deserve it, and beg your forgiveness.>> The lantern bit catches Piotr's attention and he reaches into his pocket, "I had thought Warren left one of his baubles in the hangar when I found it, turns out that it was for your game." He pulls out the clockwork pendant.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"<<The other time. When I called you and called you and you were with the stupid tractor. Not like Father was out there doing anything useful with it.>>" It is a stupid tractor because it tried to squash her, and it will always be the stupid tractor despite being directly responsible for feeding the family in Siberia until her brother proved himself superior to tractorkind and fiercely metallic. Illyana probably can't call it 'a tractor' without a negative adjective attached there. The New Mutants probably /all/ know her Russian curse word of 'tractor' by this point. She drags in a breath like moving half a mountain off her chest, and says, with painstaking slowness, "I would not put you at risk, Dani. Games are supposed to be fun." A small stress there, fun. Fun meaning her fun, not Illyana's grade of fun. Different childhood experiences will do that.

She shoves her hands out with the cake offered to Piotr, her eyes full of blue fire welling up through the consternation and the anger, the bundle of emotions that have no good outlet other than blowing the roof off proverbially. The unhappy curve of her mouth is forcibly flattened again. Emotions are /horrible/. No, no, no. "Eat something. You will need the whole cake at this point," she tells Piotr. And now it's the cake's fault. "Warren would leave his wings somewhere if no one was watching. Da, you have one? Well. You owe me... FIVE hugs then. Dani owes me no hugs because she brought the cake."

Danielle Moonstar has posed:
Thus, to Dani, the conversation is 'Da Da Russian Da Tractor Da Russian Tractor Da.' Or some variant thereof. It's the Russian version of 'Hon Hon Baguette Croissant.' Just another flavor of white people nattering on at each other. But she'd never voice that out loud and at least in -this- case it's two people she considers very good friends working something out and other than the inherent awkwardness, she cares very much about seeing it worked out.

So when Illyana assures her it's a game that's meant to be fun, she gives a grave nod and dips her head to the blonde in understanding, but does not further interrupt. Her lips do quirk in a smile at the talk of the cake and she lifts her slice in turn to offer it out to him. It's not a whole cake, but it's -some- of a cake. "You can have a hug from me if you want one, Illy."

Piotr Rasputin has posed:
Piotr's eyes well up a little, as well and he gives a smile. Being very careful not to dislodge the cake, the middle Rasputin embraces his sister in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground, giving a laugh of relief, "Oh, cake is in order, little sister. But I would not steal yours, and I will ensure that you are properly repaid." He gives her a smile and sets her down.