14155/Sinister Invites You To The Estate

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Sinister Invites You To The Estate
Date of Scene: 21 February 2023
Location: Sunny Victorian Mansion
Synopsis: An auction is done of old things from an old Man Sinister. Lessons are learned from those who judge and may need to be judged. In the end, Mystique burns it all down the way it should be.
Cast of Characters: Monet St. Croix, Raven Darkholme, Rhona Lauren, Illyana Rasputina, Joan Wright, Iara Dos Santos




Monet St. Croix has posed:
The Quires were an old family that had set in roots in Boston in the middle of the 1800's. English immigrants, and enthusiastic propagators of what would be called charitably at the time 'the White Man's Burden'. In the early 1900's they were fierce funders of eugenics and sterilization programs. The family's reputation had further suffered over the Second World War and their firm Nazi sympathies.
    A wide collection of artifacts and 'research materials' related to the early eugenics movement, pamphlets, and surgical devices (by surgical devices we mean torture implements). For the children inheriting the place, it was a 'get rid of everything' moment. Whether out of disgust - or just likelier to clean the place out before they sold it ot a developer.
    Many, many things were out on display. Including a number of early research papers, personal materials.. And other personal experimental items by one Nathaniel Essex. A name no doubt familiar to many.
    It was the middle of the day, things within the Mansion were lined up as if it was a yard sale within the interior, and various exhibitors would be going through places as if 'hawking' things. And no.. There were not many buyers.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
The arrival of a vivacious red headed human in a finely tailored, expensive looking suit, to an event such as this was not at all unexpected. She carried with her a shoulder bag of Italian leather that matched her shoes and nothing else. The make-up on her face is perfection, not even a single eye lash out of place. The diamong earrings dangling from her lobes match the necklace and the bracelet that peeks out of the sleeve of the jacket. Perfection, business, and ready.

The brief tour that had been offered was taken and now this woman found herself in the main dining hall with the other 'customers', sipping on some white wine and waiting for the business at hand to get started.

Rhona Lauren has posed:
A three hour drive from the School... for a super weird yard sale that they found out about online?

Rhona, and a few other students from Xavier's made the trip using Rhona's car... being a Junior, but having a nice car means you are popular, sort of.

The three girls, and one boy all exited Rhona's fancy electric vehicle, after Rhona found a suitable parking spot near to the address provided online.

The group of four walked the rest of the way to the house, and soon found their way inside. The boy-girl pairing were in the back, holding hands, and making little in-jokes as the other two, Rhona and her friend lead them along. Dressed in a red tee-shirt with a black revolver printed on her chest, a dark green hoodie half-zipped up to her bustline, a pair of dark grey jeans and a shiney silver belt, with black shoes, Rhona looked the part of a kid her age.

She eyes the various odds and ends strewn out on display, taking some pics of some of them with her phone, getting a instant history lesson on the item from an app, while the other 3 kids with her were doing mostly the same.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
If anyone in this city knows a thing or two about family reputations falling pre- or post-war, it's the inheritor of Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin. Likewise, if anyone in this neck of the woods would possibly know what half the torture devices masquerading as scientific equipment is, it's actually Raven Darkholme but the Russian Hell Lord probably comes out nearly neck and neck.

The yard sale or auction isn't the typical event that Illyana appears at, but she happens to be here all the same in her austere black coat with the collar turned up, a vision of icy gentility. So generally cleaned up from her monastic forebear and typically Russian, with cheekbones that could cleave subatomic particles and a typically unwelcoming air of the incredibly rich. Or haughty. Or something of both.

Her family name isn't known for wealth, only destroying the ancient Russian imperial house. It's probably an act, the way she floats in a distant, unimpressed way among this junk and that junk and that artsy junk over there.

Xavier's crew ought to recognize her, even without her uniform, and for the average joes... well, her unimpressed stare at a lobotomizing table is probably telling.

Joan Wright has posed:
There's a thing about history. One can't learn from it if they only pick and choose the parts that they agree with. So, while some may decided to try and ignore it, others will come inspect it.

Although Joan has a general respect for learning from history, she is not here to investigate. Well, not in the manner that others may be doing. While yes, there is some horrible history behind those who lived here. The home itself has its own.

Joan is dressed semi professionally. The satchel she has slung over her shoulders stands in for a few of the pockets she'd normally be wearing. While not wearing anything advertising who she works for, there's always a need to acquire spare parts for the older buildings under her employer's care. And perhaps there may be architectural pieces that could be preserved or find redemption in another location with a need for it. Stepping out of the hired car, she makes her way in. Taking her time to process the various forms of architecture present.

Iara Dos Santos has posed:
     Iara is, for a change, in human form as she walks through this estate sale with the others, wearing a ruffled gold skirt and a teal blouse that sort of reflects the Carnival she just came from back home in Recife yesterday, contrasting nicely with her brown skin. Gold shark-shaped earrings are the only indulgence she made here, for the most part she would sort of blend in on the streets of New York, if in need of a haircut, though her curly dark hair being a bit wild is still pretty fitting for her.

     Pity then, that they are not in New York but in fact Boston and a racist old white man's house, and looking over the old journals and papers is decidely less Adams Family fun-macabre and more uncomfortable history. It's what she has to work with though, with X-Men and eventually back home too, what with there still being Hydra remnants in Brazil... somewhere. She smirks at one collection of old newspapers and scientific journals, saying "Hey guys, look at this!" in her portugese accent, holding aloft a newspaper titled "THE SUPERMAN IS AMERICAN" with not Superman, but Captain America on it. A red pen's been written all over it with bitter notes. Held long enough to let the others see, she soon tosses it aside and then starts going through boxes, saying "Stupid, but fun to think whoever lived here was really mad about how World War II went... Man, I bet Magneto would just tear this place apart without looking at anything..."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Over on display in the auction room is an old, tattered copy of 'Origin of the Species' cy Charles Darwin being put up. It's encased in glass. The auctioneer is going, "This item will be up shortly. It's the personal copy of an early researcher into genetics. A Doctor Nathaniel Essex that the family was rather fond of." The auctioneer has pale skin and is wearing a suit and bow tie. A set of red glasses cover his eyes and he takes a bite out of an apple. "The book was used by him occasionally jotting down notes and his personal thoughts and reviews. It gives a rather personal feeling to it. Like you're looking at something a man used while he was figuring out the way the world worked. For his era, he was.. Ahead of his time." ANother bit eo fthe apple.
    For Rhona and the other girls there are a variety of things on display. Preserved organs, body parts.. A number of dissected brains with notations on them. Purporting to be those of chimps, monkeys, and various 'minorities' of the era, comparing brain size to that of the 'superior'. Scraps of paper showing measurements.
    A man walks voer towards Rhona, shaking his head. He has two lightly sharpened looking ears. "What a freak." He says, while looking over at hte things up on the wall. Then over at Rhona, "And what are you doing here?" He would ask. "This doesn't seem the type of thing that any responsible parent would take kids to. If they're buying sneak outside." Light grey strekas in his hair.
    A man walking along on a cane with a limp would casually amble over towards Illyana. A bowler hat on his bald head, bow tie around his neck. "You look like you've seen better." HE would drawl in a southern accent. "They don't have the good stuff up and out here. This is what they'd put up for the carnival. When they were showing the investors around." He would grin. "Looks real freaky. Cutting up brains and stabbing a knife in and seeing what bits they could cut out." An exaggerated drawl.
    The house appears to be as cookie cutter as the designs from the era had been. Someone with a lot of money trying to build something that would measure up to a house built by someone with even more money, but not quite pulling it off.
    A mopey looking girl would walk past Iara, having on combat boots, a large dark green trenchcoat, and coke bottle glasses. "Whatever. They're just going to sell it and make condos. Suburbia's coming. That might be even worse."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mentally Raven is smirking over the comment made about Magneto, the girl was wrong really. Externally however, there were no signs of a reaction to the words. She moves along looking at at the smaller items hidden behind glass, recognizing most of them for what they were and how they were used.

As the auction begins in earnest, she takes another zip of her wine and moves to settle into a chair. Pale blue eyes shift to look at the first items lining up to be sold as she crosses right leg over left and smooths her knee length skirt.

If she recognized anyone here she gave no signs or indications that she would be interrupting their perusal of things, but she also did not give off a cold, 'stay away' from he vibe either. After all, these things were the past, right? Who cared about history in this day and age?

Rhona Lauren has posed:
Rhona separates from her 3 friends a bit, wandering down the aisle with the creepy bodyparts on display, be it in jar or otherwise. The 17 year old has her dark brown hair tied up in a messy arrangement on the crown of her head, with long bangs loose on either sides of her face. She's wearing a black leather choker around her slim throat too, and reaches a hand up to adjust it some while she stares at the morbid trinkets.

The man's voice makes her jump just a little, as he came out of seemingly no where. She looks over at him, and just stares for a moment before she speaks... in a London accented voice.

"Oh... uh... I'm with them." She notes, motioning to the 3 other teens across the room who are laughing and messing around, just a little, not overly so! "We're from a school. We... uh... got this trip cleared with one of our teachers. History. We're just taking some photos to make a presentation with...." She explains, eyeing the man over for a second before she goes back to browsing....

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
One does not simply walk into an auction. Or do they? That kind of locale among the Boston Brahmins usually requires a deep expense account and a safety deposit box with the serial numbers for the Caymans filed off. "You look old enough to have babysat the victims," Illyana replies with the utterly bored tone of a pink-haired psychic mutant known all too well. Minus his penchant for manifesting psychokinetic bazookas that shoot fears or pepper anxiety everywhere, anyway.

The best defense to social maneuvers may be already showing up armoured like a hedgehog. "Now you say where the good stuff is and expect to lead me down a hallway to see rusty tools and dull books maybe written, maybe forged. These things are always overstuffed and so overdramatic, //begging// for attention, someone to sit up and say 'How very, very smart and forward thinking you are!'"

Yes, she has indeed heard the auctioneer, especially as she glides towards that end of the room. "Can't a girl just want to spend a ridiculous amount of money on a tchotchke and make a drunken scene on the ballroom floor?" She mimes a gesture with her hand, fingers stretched ear to jaw. Call me, Mr. Auctioneer.

Joan Wright has posed:
Joan looks to the item up for auction soon for all of a second before looking back to the house itself. Her head tilts up, looking to the light fixtures, studying them. Certainly in a home as uniform as this, they have spare fixtures somewhere... With her quest in mind, she wanders around, giving the auction items another look through. Come on.

SOMETHING be useful...

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The auctioneer goes to talk over to Raven, nevermind the glare she's giving him or anyone around, "They started with the scientific method. Have a theory, test a theory. Essex was ahead of his time in figuring out how the bodies worked and changed, and what things were for the era considered superior and better. His research methods were ahead of the time. Not everything was accurate.. But that's the way it went over in those days. That's the way science goes. Have a hypothesis, test it. If it doesn't fit, then the hypothesis is wrong." Speakign so cavalierishly about a monster that cut people up and stitched different body parts back on.

The man with the slightly pointed ears would nod. "Ah. Poor you. Humanity's barbarism goes far, far back from this. Have you learned in your classes about how the Nazis got many of their ideas from the 'brave new world' of the American eugenics movements? Sterilization, throwing people in 'asylums', calling it purification.. All that changed with this was the latest fad of science they used to justify it." Looking over at things comparing brain size. "Monsters. All of them. Forgive me. Something I get caught up a bit in sometimes." Him taking that moment to give Rhona space if she pushed him away. But eyes that spoke of some degree of experience.

The man in the bowler hat would laugh over at Illyana, the bands of fat on his chin jiggling. "I do declare they should hire you for this sort of thing. You look like you know what you're doing. Slasher film fan? You work in a mental hospital?" how very, very forward of him. "And I'm just a fan, really of these sorts of things in general. There's so -much- to see. Everythign is so clean. They restored it.. Or they just got the ones they never used and polished them for display. The real ones will have blood, guts, and bone seeped into them. You can smell it." As she would go on about tchockhe he would look blankly over in a 'what does that word mean'.

A tall, arrogant seeming woman wearing a chiq cut dress goes to look over at Joan, "You look like you're staring and drooling." She would smirk over. "This place? There's nothing to it. The things inside look like they were grabbed out of someone's garbage, polished, and then upcharged a few thousand dollars. But, oh, where are my manners?" She would offer a hand out absently.

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Many often wonder how it is that Raven maintains herself in situations like this, how it is that the former terrorist managed to infiltrate places and work along side people she loathed. One hundred and forty years of practice, of observing humans and learning to mimic them, of pretending to be everything she wasn't. As the auctioneer spoke to her one brow lifted slightly, the pretend of interest in the words the man spoke while keeping inside the desire to stab him repeatedly in the left right... yes, very specific, the left one.

"Science does indeed take time," she says smoothly, another sip of her wine before offering the faintest of smiles toward the man. Clearly he was attempting to provoke people, even as he moved on to the teenagers, he was poking, testing, seeing who he could get a rise out of.

Iara Dos Santos has posed:
     "Oh yeah." Iara replies to the girl in the glasses, "I've gotten a crash course in suburbia and United States zoning laws, that shit's terrible. Hopefully if they do development here they make the place uh... Walkable? Like those... what did they call it. Streetcar suburbs I think the term for it is. I can't watch three videos on Youtube before there's a mini-documentary on how great Latverian city planning is..."

     She sniffs the air, even in her human form she has a superior sense of smell these days. Maybe not as keen or as practiced as Logan's, but it's still something, making a face as she smells the musty scents and preservatives of the place, and then shaking her head as she looks across the people gathered, a particular sidelong glance at the pointy-eared fellow to see if she can discern what manner of pointy-eared fellow he is. Atlantean? She has a tiny bit of experience with Atlanteans by now...

Rhona Lauren has posed:
Rhona lets her eyes drift around the room as the weirdo with the pointy ears talks further to her. She notes Illyana is here... though she's never spoken to her, she's seen her around Xavier's School before. But, that's not too surprising, this auction was being talked about at the school a lot prior to its big day.

What the pointy eared fellow says to her though, does draw Rhona's eyes back to him. "I don't think there's a corner on this world that Humans have existed in, that they there-by haven't been awful to one another in." She fires back, adding a sweet little smile for him as she takes another step down the aisle and snaps another picture with her phone, of a weird hand in a jar...

"If there is any true lesson to learn in life, that I've managed to learn in my extensive existence... is that Humans suck." She says whilst she checks the picture she'd just snapped, and furrows her brow a little before moving on to the next one.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The man in the bowler hat earns that most tedious measure of anything that a Gen Z can contrive: the bored near eyeroll. Near, because honestly, Illyana refuses to commit the necessary energy to complete the action. A mere implication will have to do well enough, thank you everyone.

"Best hurry. That woman will buy everything." 'That' being Joan or the impressive lady performing airs of how unimpressed she is at the quality of the implements on display.

She doesn't linger nearby, the slant look from those ice-pale eyes enough to make even the most strong-willed person reconsider their immediate choices or proximity to her. A slip of the mask, sufficient to remind that what lies beneath isn't a sweet little angelic sister to Piotr Rasputin, but something with teeth and claws.

"Everyone sucks," might be the droll phrase of the day, but she has other matters to be disappointed by. Notably whatever someone bid on Darwin.

Joan Wright has posed:
As the woman of arrogance approaches Joan, the architect turns her head to look to her. The smirk flashed to her is rewarded with a small smile in response. Unassuming as she listens to the woman speak of the items within.

"My interest is more with the items used for the building itself. Both in structure and detailing." She responds, glancing to the hand being offered without the name to go with it. One of the estate managers perhaps? If so they are doing a piss poor attempt at making money.

But still, manners.

She reaches over to take the offered hand, giving a firm, but not at all unhumanely strong shake. "Joan Wright. And you are?"

She idly wonders if the uppity woman would be putting on such aires if she realized Joan was dating a rich guy.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The auctioneer smiles over at Raven, "So what brings you here? You're a lovely lady. You have an interest in the past and the advancement of humanity? It's all these small steps in science that will make us better. Bit by bit. They improve us in small bits by letting us know how we improve. But every now and then you get something exponential way beyond what we can understand. Homo sapiens superior. Such huge leaps and bounds above the rest of humanity. So many flavors. So much potential. So much wasted on the idiots that make up humanity. Forward thinkers realize what the next step in evolution is." That might be disturbing. Even as his eyes didn't show the slightest awareness of who he was talking to, or there being the slightest change in his posture to remotely indicate he might have some powers of his own.

The dull toned woman talking to Iara goes, "Whatever it is, is a waste. Now tehy're getting to the suburbs of suburbs. It's walkable if you want to go out to your car. Or you can take a scooter to the garage." Her tone virtually a monotone. "Stay here and see immaculately kept lawns that they all hire out to a company to do."

Iara's keen eyes do, in fact, make out those slight indications in the man that he has some level of Atlantean heritage. The slightly pointed ears, the way he handles himself.. And as Rhona goes to speak to him, he breaks out into laughter, "That's the truth of it. But why extend it to just humans? I'm pretty sure it adheres to pretty much every species in the cosmos. With sapience comes a willingness to propagate misery and suffering on others on a cultural level. You want a society free of prejudice? Have it be made up of single celled organisms. Humanity doesn't seem particularly special in that regard." His tone bitter.

The next picture that Rhona would get is a series of organs that were preserved over in jars. Something was a bit off about them though. Heart, lungs.. Oversized. A bit more solid. Larger chambers. Definitely not something one would expect to see normally, even if one didn't have any sort of medical or cadaver experience.

The man that Illyana is speaking too pffs, "Tryin' a bit too hard there. If you want something nice to put up on your wall.. Well.. Pretty sure they got uh those babies in a jar. Not sure where but if this is anything like most they'll have 'em. Maybe some heads." He doesn't say 'shrunken heads' which may be more or less disturbing as it implies he's been to quite a few of these. "Think they might be cheating a bit. Things look too well preserved.. Ah well, fucking display pieces when the guy had funders drop by to show 'em what he was doing."

The woman has pale skin and a razor sharp smile as she talks with Joan, "Claudine. Claudine Renko. It's always sort of fun to come to one of these things and see what sort of street trash drops by to come in for the spectacle. There being no sign in her eyes that she knows that Joan is dating a billionaire. Then again, she might not care. "Come for the freaks, stay for the freaks."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Raven shifts slightly in her chair, merely making herself more comfortable as she looks up from her seated position to the man standing near her speaking. She could guess at what he was, perhaps another mutant, but clearly not entirely human, but none of that really mattered to her.

"I'm here to see who else might be interested in history," she takes another sip of her wine. "Whether good or bad, the victorious write the history that ends up being taught. Since the Nazi's lost, and Essex work failed, there is very little of documented in the history books, so it falls to the common person to remember the pain and suffering that advanced science."

It left a bad taste in her mouth to say it so smoothly, so calmly, as if she herself believed the words she spoke and thus was completely convincing. She still wanted to stab the male in the left eye, but she was beginning to think he might be up to something more, so she offered him a little bat of her own to see if he'd take it.

Rhona Lauren has posed:
With the pointy ear guy still talking to her, Rhona glances over to her three friends she'd come with, but they're busy cracking jokes in the medical instruments area. She frowns, having no backup with this guy talking her up. "Well, you're not selling me on becoming a space traveler, if all I'd have to look forward to is everyone, everywhere being awful. Of course, I do believe in exceptions. They're just super rare..."

She crouches down beside the table then, putting her left knee on the floor as she raises her phone up to take a picture of an enlarged heart inside its green foggy fluid filled jar.

A second of appraisal is given to the picture before the teenager rises back up to her full height and uses one hand to adjust the hem of her hoodie around her waistline.

"This place just makes you focus on the bad seeds within Humanity. Seems like it just sadly comes natural to a place filled with so much... unnatural."

Some of what Raven says of Nazis and the like, garners a glance from Rhona, since she's close enough to where Raven is now to overhear her conversation, at least in part.

This whole trip is turning out to be even weirder than the kids joked about in her car on the way up here...

Iara Dos Santos has posed:
     Iara nods a bit with her wild afro hair bobbling about like she's in a music video for Earth, Wind and Fire. "Yeah." she says in agreement to the bitter Wednesday-type girl in the glasses, "But hey, there's movements these days that are working to change that. If you hate it so much, why not put that energy towards positive change, y'know? Go sit in on the city council and tell 'em to allow for multi-use zoning in this area. I think that's the term they used in that one video, anyway..." as she looks over at the Atlantean, putting her hands on her hips and pursing her mouth.

     She's been wanting to meet Namor for a while now, they never do let her near Atlantis as she is technically an up-worlder and whatnot, so she has to wonder if this guy is Namor in a thin disguise or something. Probably not, but it never hurts to get a closer look right? So she does, walking over to him and ignoring the fetus in a jar right by her head as best she can.

     "With sapience comes the ability to understand, even if there's still conflict. With single-celled organisms there's only eat and fight, with sapience there's room in life for liesure and art. I read a book once that... shit, how does that translate. A arte e qualquer coisa que nao esteja relacionada a sobrevivencia... Art is... anything not related to survival. Without sapience we don't have beauty and understanding, just endless strife. Yeah, things suck, but they could be worse, and unlike an evolutionary dead-end things have the potential to be better, which is why we have to fight for it."

     She exhales in a huff after her rant, the african-descended brazillian looking up at the atlantean, shorter than him in human mode, and then bluntly says "You better not be Namor with an attitude like that."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
There ought to be a chair somewhere about here, and if there isn't, she fully makes do with knocking back against a wall and slouching with the grandiose elegance of those who truly needn't wear a cape or crown to show their confidence. Illyana departs from the company of any bowlered- or bowtied people who cling to her like a burr, and if they insist on bothering her, there shall be a very short visit at the end of a short hallway that ends in a significantly long ride back to, say, Mumbai. By way of four different neighbourhoods in four different planes of Hell, possibly interspersed by a nice visit on the sides of a green mountainside where man-eating Furies wave cheerfully from under their leopard-spotted dresses.

She drops where she will, comfortably so, and proceeds to observe the business of the auction in vague earnest. Someone might even be foolish enough to hand her a paddle.

She might be dangerous enough to use it.

Joan Wright has posed:
As Claudine goes through her introduction, Joan pulls her hand away at the completion of the handshake. Fortunately she does have hand sanitizer in her satchel somewhere, which will come in handy after the greeting she just got. "Claudine Renko..." Joan repeats, giving a glimpse to a portrait elsewhere, "One of the relatives, I presume?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The auctioneer lets out a soft sigh, "Well, history is doomed and all. But it also goes in cycles. The better, the more advanced species are the ones that will take over the earth and prosper. Human erectus, homo sapiens.. The strong survive and prosper, the weak fade out. Might take a few hundred years, but things get weeded away." As Raven would go on about 'history' there would be just a little twitch over in the auctioneers eye.

"Well, perhaps. You seem to know quite a great deal. I find quite often there's not a lot of appreciation." Did someone have their feelings hurt here?

The seeming Atlantean talking over to Rhona goes on, "Oh?" Glancing over at them, "Huh. And you have more faith in beings that are alive than I do. But I'm an old, bittered young man." The way he spins those words together sounds decidedly false.

The lungs are too big. More than the normal number of air sacks. The person could breathe in and hold more air. The larger heart.. It could beat faster, drive more air into the bloodstream. Definitely not something that would be natural.

The emo'ish girl speaking ever so flatly would shrug at Iara, "You're giving humanity a lot more credit than it deserves. But what do I know? I'm just sitting on the sidelines watching the cars crash. It makes for a spectacle. But why bother to stand out? Don't make waves." She says again in that totally flat, cerebral tone. Moving to adjust her trenchcoat.

The Atlantean would turn over to Iara, "Forgive me, I don't know.. Ah.. Is that Spanish? Do forgive me. I'm the last person to speak about beauty. And culture and art is in the eye of the beholder. One man's great thing is another man's garbage. Then again anything from here is going to be put up on a display somewhere in someone's home, so we know what kind of person that will be."

As Illyana goes over to sit, there's a somewhat creepy looking teenager going to approach her. Bowl haircut, thin reed suit. Going to make a pass in her direction, "So what brings you to monster science theatre here?" He's holding an old video camera that's switched off ? the type one would have bought in the nineties and put a VHS tape in to record.

As Joan goes to take out her hand sanitizer.. Claudine's hand feels ever, ever so cold. Like it had been freezing in the weather. Like wax. It's pulled back. "Oh, hardly. I'm a biologist. It's fun to come to these carny freak shows and see what people trot out and use big words to make themselves sound smart and erudite."

Iara Dos Santos has posed:
     Iara narrows her eyes at the Atlantean, saying "Portugese." before turning back to the little goth girl, saying "Humanity's got a bad track record yeah, but there's steps forward, even if there's stumbles. Just don't give up. Life's no fun if you just watch it pass you by, you gotta be that change you wanna be!" Iara the life coach today, Iara who killed who knows how many people last year in her first few missions with Angel, Iara who loves being a self-described monster. Her smile is infectious either way, but she seems to have reached a dead end with the two here, so she wanders off to mingle and make more problems, walking over towards Raven and the Auctioneer with a shake of her head as soon as she leaves their personal bubbles.

Rhona Lauren has posed:
Rhona snaps a picture of that fetus not far from Iara's head, and as she does so she just affords a smile to the pointed ear man, so old, so weird. The teenager takes the distraction of Iara talking to the Atlantean to do a casual 'spin move' and she's off again, walking back toward her friends who are a handful of displays over.

Another glance down to her phone though, and Rhona pauses to look at a stack of books, taking another photo of their spines to get all their titles captured in one image...

She approaches her friends from Xavier's School then, and takes a few moments to listen to their silly banter that was ongoing...

Raven Darkholme has posed:
A soft smile is offered the pointy eared, annoying, took the bait, possible Atlantean. "I've done my research," is all she says regarding his come back regarding her knowledge. "I have faith in homo superior and homo sapiens, I believe we will find a way to work together and make this world a better place... now if only we could get all the beings on this planet to work together..."

She lets that last little thing hang in the air. Iara's comment about Namor not missed and so she had to poke once more, just to see what would appear.

Joan Wright has posed:
hands cleaned and sanitizer back in the satchel, Joan finds herself still engaged with the Claudine. The proclamation of being a biologist gets another tilt to the head. The expression of how she likes to spend her time gets a brow raise. "...Oh. Good for you I guess. Unfortunately, I do have work to do, so as tempting as it may be, I will be unable to join you in the ever so popular practice of 'trying to improve one's self esteem by looking down upon others. Do enjoy that."

Joan gives a sweet smile before she turns, going back to inspect the fixtures and to seek out someone at the estate that can actually help her track down what she's looking for.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Rhona's left to her pictures as the group seems to be congregating over in the auction room. Claudine gives a final sneer over at Joan, having apparently -missed- the rather subtle insult given and goes to stalk off as the conversation ends, seemingly having been aware she was insulted but for all her smarter-than-thou airs having completely missed it out of sheer arrogance. One for Joan.
    The books that Rhona takes pictures of are all disturbing ones. Of the Eugenics movement, of Social Darwinism, of the supremacy of specific people and races and the inferiority ofo thers.. The sort of things that need to be burnt away and never heard from again.
    THe auctioneer gives one final, twitching glare over at Raven while going to rub over at his goatee with a sign, "We all can't be patrons of culture and change then. I look forwards to seeing what you bid on. I'm sure it will be quite itneresting."
    Outside the place, Claudine goes to leave and skulk away.. And then as she does over there's a loud scream from outside as she realizes what was saida bout her..

Raven Darkholme has posed:
The mansion lights are dim, the doors closed, all the participants in the auction have purchased their wears and gone home. Everything would be delivered tomorrow, but for tonight it was all locked away safely. The family have locked the doors and slipped away into the night, either ashamed to have sold off monstrous items or off to celebrate the hideous amounts of money they just made.

A lone figure stands in the shadows of the building, yellows eyes narrowed to tiny slits as she looks toward the single light on in the attic. There was no longer a need to conceal herself, or play the part of a human, no need to hide away her anger and disgust. Words like monster weren't strong enough to describe Sinister or Essex, the human language had no way to express the levels of nightmare those two had created.

"No one profits from them," she announced into the night. "No one needs to own a piece of their legacy! We have suffered enough when just their names cause a chill to run up our spines. I refuse to risk it, I refuse to allow it."

The smell of gasoline was beginning to escape the mansion now, sneaking out through the gaps in the old house. Mystique walks along the side of the house, a slow steady pace before pulling from her boot a single road flare. "There is an entire generation of mutants who have never heard the name Sinister or Essex," she says to the house. "And I intend to keep it that way and ensure that no one ever pick up where they left off."

Twisting the top off the flare to light it, she performs a spinning kick to break out the glass door leading to the dining room. Watching the chemical burn of the flare for a moment, a smile plays across her lips before she tosses it into the now gas soaked mansion. "Good-bye."

The news would report it as arson with no leads, the mansions old sprinkler system had been contaminated with gasoline, a flare used to start the fire in the dining room. The truth of what happened would never lead anyone back to the cobalt mutant, but then that was her specialty, and for once her "act of terrorism" was more an act of mercy for all mutants who suffered in the past and were still suffering... and no one was hurt that night as a result.