1446/You Were Warned It'd Get Weird

You Were Warned It'd Get Weird
Date of Scene:	30 April 2020
Location:	Doug's house, ME
Synopsis:	Doug takes Julio to his place in ME. Illyana visits. Doug makes plans.
Cast of Characters:	Douglas Ramsey, Julio Richter, Illyana Rasputina

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Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    Doug's house turns out to be a really nice house on the rocky coast of Maine not far from the border of New Brunswick. He even has a car. The nearest town is a blink and you'll miss it affair.

"I don't spend much time out here, but I bought it so I could get away." Doug said. "So you should be able to sit tight here for a little while. The freezer's full." A cursory inspection shows the place is completely off the grid, run off of solar panels, a windmill, and batteries.

"For right now I have to go back to New York."

He has a lot of books, too. There's a well-thumbed copy of 'Don Quixote' out on the coffee table along with a well stuffed library with a plethora of books in any number of languages. "I have to go take care of some stuff, but I'll be back tomorrow morning so we can figure some stuff out. All right? Sit tight."

Julio Richter has posed:
As Julio steps through the portal, he almost immediately staggers to the side, barely managing to catch himself on a bookshelf before he topples over completely. "Ay," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. Before he's even fully righted himself, one hand comes up to wave off assistance. "Que mierda." He wobbles back upright and lets go of the furniture. "Sorry, sorry. I just had... ah... Vértigo?" He gives his head another shake. "I'm OK now, I think. Just give me a second."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    "Oh, yeah." Doug says, "That's because we were in Hell for a second. ...Hell-adjace." He sighs, sheepishly... and then unwinds the scarf from around his neck. After a moment's hesitation, he takes off the leather gloves he's wearing, revealing that one hand is black, shiny, and threaded through with gold circuit filligree. Then he shrugs off his pea-coat, revealing A) He's jacked, B) His 'Tyrranosaurus Flex' T-Shirt, and C) ...He's jacked, in a way well-heeled millennials of his type usually aren't.

Julio Richter has posed:
"We were in hell," Julio echoes in flat disbelief. "Like... devils and fire and. That stuff." After a pause, he wrinkles his nose and asks: "Jesucristo, you aren't Catholic, are you?" This better not be an elaborate conversion attempt, his tone warns.

Finally, the visitor starts trying to take in his surroundings, but he's almost immediately distracted. He catches himself staring -- hopefully a second before Doug does -- and covers by staring at his host's artificial hand. Wait, no, that's worse! Floor. Floor is safe. He stares at the floor. Perfect save.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Let's make very clear the experience of jumping into Limbo is unpleasant. Unpleasant on a scale most humans will never experience, the idea of their body being torn in countless directions, their feet flung on one axis upward while their head snaps back and their innards try to race along the resonating super-strings of the universe. It makes a bad LSD trip look like a cuddly afternoon reading while it rains. The jarring return to bodily form while stepping on the sulphur-laced black granite of a floor in Limbo hurts, just as much as landing in dense, dying skin and sluggishly circulating blood back in the next side in Maine. No matter how nice the evergreens are, there's something weightier, ponderous, to being mortal.

The blonde hangs back for a moment, the world behind her garishly bright compared ot the predominant sepia and grey landscape where winter has its claws in a little longer. She tilts her head, the forked black crown framing her pale gold locks glinting slightly. Certain no one is making a mad dash for it, she pinches shut the dimensional-spanning portal. And then, it's all a matter of calm; deathly quiet, her, still and motionless. Her hands clasp together. "Nyet." This to question lands a bit abruptly. "Russian Orthodox tenuously. But Rasputina, da?"

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"No, I was Mormon. But I gave that up when I was... fifteen?" Doug says, before he hangs up his coat. He raises his eyebrows, and then says, casually, "Go ahead. Ask." He flexes that black and gold hand, "But I told you... the answer's weird. Everything I've got is frozen.

Then he gestures, with a thumb. "And that would be Illyana. I'm going to heat up some frozen waffles. You want syrup? Fruit?"

Julio Richter has posed:
A second ago, Julio didn't believe in hell. Now he is perfectly willing to believe that he just passed through it, or even that he's still in it. On the plus side, at least he knows where his eyes should go, now. He steps back a few feet as Illyana makes her entrance, jaw slack for a second before he remembers himself and clicks it shut "Rasputina. You must be Doug's ang-- Doug's girlfriend. I didn't mean to stare, I just--" He stops and takes a slow, deep breath. "I haven't seen anything like this before."

Turning back to Doug and making very deliberate eye contact, he points out, "I just had two dinners. Even I can't eat AGAIN again."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The demon queen doesn't outwardly display any signs of being totally corrupted other than the black, backswept barbs of metal bracketing her temples. Rather like a cool headband or a crown, it gives Illyana a bit of edge her Russian origins otherwise take care of by simply breathing. Her fingers hook through the top loops of her pants, though the inkstain shadows might just be painted on for the effect they have. "Fast route isn't cheap," she acknowledges, giving that incline of her head. Not the first or last time someone has gone white, hidden, or vomited from jumping through the byroads she walks with such ease. Julio's reaction is taken in calm stride. "Da, Illyana. His cabin is something, mm?"

Doug's offer for food is met with a shake of her head. "Nyet, just tea will do. Piotr and I had too much soup."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    "Right." Doug says, before he leans in, and kisses Illyana on the cheek. He opens up the freezer, and then sighs. "I forgot... I didn't buy more waffles anyway. Tea. Okay." He gets an old-fashioned charcoal samovar sitting in the kitchen going, and then he glances up at Julio. "Illyana, this is Julio. I found him in Mutant Town."

He finds some almond cookies he had stashed away, and he puts those out. "He's in a bad spot, and a long way from home, so I'm helping him out. Illyana and I went to school together. We started dating not too long ago--"

Julio Richter has posed:
Thankful for the distraction from his own awkwardness, Julio takes a second to absorb his surroundings, and gives a slow, appreciative nod. "Yes, it's very nice. And things are very weird, so far, just like he promised." When he hears Doug introduce him, Julio nods and adds sheepishly, "He caught me stealing dinner and then gave me more dinner. I hope it's OK that I'm here -- I don't want to be a problem." He eases out of his own jacket and hangs it on a hook next to Doug's. Julio is not jacked. He is not jacked enough that it bears repeating. His shirt is green and baggy and could use a wash.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana shrugs her shoulders, as young and effective a gesture as someone can be. For all the apparent cusp of adulthood she physically occupies, things align wrong. It takes a bit to notice, but the longer someone is around her, the more profound the culture clash might be. She carries herself with a profound stillness uncommon to any teenager, and the flat pallor of her frost-pale eyes forge an impeccably mirthless window that make Logan seem like a light-hearted party person. Not wise to stare there too long; the Abyss did, and look what happened to it. She tilts her head to accept the kiss, which for her is the equivalent of a marching band running through Red Square on a military parade in honour of the Motherland. Gliding in like a shadow, she takes up residence by the door. "Piotr found Boris the same way."

The even gaze regarding Julio sizes him up, and she doesn't project cuddly or playful one bit. This, however, is social. "How are you a problem? Who would tell you such things?" A mystified sound, that, or as close as she gets. "Are you still hungry?"

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Having set the Samovar to boil the water and make the tea, Doug proceeds to leap up and grab the doorframe, before he starts doing pull-ups. One, two, thee, four, five, six... "We're the same height, so I should have some pajamas that fit you until we can get you some new clothes." He huffs, as he continues to lift himself, "So Julio, why don't you explain your powers to us a little better? What exactly *happens* when you try to use them?"

Julio Richter has posed:
As Illyana sizes him up, for a second Julio wishes he still had his jacket on. Those eyes -- brrr. But when she, too, offers food, his humor returns to him and he laughs, shaking his head. "Jesucristo, am I THAT skinny? Maybe I'll have a snack in an hour or so. For now, I'm full, but thank you." He gives Doug a sidelong glance -- envious, probably -- as he starts effortlessly busting out pull-ups, but his eyes snap back to Illyana and his shoulders hitch upward as he answers the question. "My powers. Right. I can feel a power in the Earth, kind of like" -- he searches for the word, then finds it with a snap of his fingers -- "tension! Like a rubber band, stretched out and ready to snap. The first time I used my powers, I did just snap the band and all the power came out at once. That was really, REALLY bad. But later I tried just feeling for it and letting it out slower." He pantomimes the stretched out rubber band between his hands, then slowly brings his fingers together. "That let out a kind of shaking. I was trying to break through a wall. And I did! But most of the building also fell." His expression is complex -- he's not happy about the lack of control, but doesn't exactly seem to feel bad about the destruction. A touch of righteous contempt -- like whoever's building he smashed got what they deserved.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug pauses and hangs there mid-pullup. "It's like I thought, his powers are a LOT like Magma's, except whatever they're touching on, she taps into geothermal magma flows, and not not so much tectonics." Then Doug adds, "Illyana and I are both mutants, too." He lifts himself again.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Stealing food to feed the empty belly, da? Unless you enjoy the thrill. But few hotheads take food. They go for something actually worth the effort." Laconic as she often is, Illyana uses up the pool of words she prefers, burying the needle when it comes to transitions from sudden vocalization to utter silence anew. Her watchful gaze takes in the pair of them, both men observed like a hawk, though no peregrine ever quite reached such breakneck speeds as she has. Pull-ups in the doorframe force her to move aside, since she was leaning in it. "We are all the same size," she points out.

At least in height. Russian pyjamas probably just mean putting a knife under the pillow. Or a very large, very powerful metallic brother standing by the headboard to judge anyone coming nearest his beloved snowflake. It takes her a few moments to parse entirely what Julio says after making way for Doug. "The pent-up force of the locked continental plates. Usually tectonic motion is restricted to active boundaries or faults. Rarely in the craton. But you can pull on this anywhere, da? Tap into it, make it all shimmy around the surface or do you make it move deep? Release the energy at once as seismic waves."

Hey, she knows about earthquakes. A lot.

Julio Richter has posed:
"Si, You mentioned you were," Julio responds to Doug. "And I figured she was, too, what with the whole..." he waves a hand vaguely at Illyana, makes a 'pfwooosh' noise, then halos her in expanding spirit fingers. (It /was/ quite a spectacular entrance.) "I would like to meet... you said her name is Magma? Maybe she can help me get more control of the power."

"The thrill I could live without," he goes on to tell Illyana. Then, with a rueful twist of his lip: "The food, not so much." His brow furrows as he listens to her description of his abilities -- he doesn't seem to catch all of the more scientific terms (not to mention some of the slangier ones), but enough gets through for him to understand. "When I traveled, I noticed there was not the same amount of power everywhere. But yes, I could always feel it. I think I can do both of those things -- I can pull it up to me, like I did with the wall. The first time, though, it was that deep, big wave. I was lucky I lived through it."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug drops down, and then says, "The official term for it is 'teratokinesis' - the ability to, through various means, exert influence over geographic formations, with possible variations including the extension of one's senses through them and the ability to manipulate them in ways that defy established physical logs, e.g. levitation." He brushes his hands off. "In other words, you're really powerful. Illyana's mutant power is the ability to open portals to and from another dimension. I am... hm. How to put it." He glances back to Illyana. "Last time I got rated I was a specialized hypercognate with possible metapsionic powers."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Too much energy drawn will end badly. Usually." Illyana nods firmly with that thought, and she rolls her shoulder again. "Talk to Amara. She knows the fire in the earth. I hear it differently." Whatever that means, though she rakes her fingers through her blonde mane and leaves it somewhat organized about her shoulders. With those lidded eyes simmering with a pallid storm, she inclines her head. "The simple part of it. Just a teleporter," she adds dryly.

Julio Richter has posed:
"'Te-rrato-kin-aysis,'" Julio echoes, rolling the R and feeling out the word carefully. He seems to miss a lot of the rest of what Doug says -- maybe another time Cypher can repeat himself in Spanish -- but he does get a look of consternation at one point and interject, "Levitation? You think I can /fly/?"

He nods along with Illyana, looking somber. "A lot of people died. After that, I try not to use my power if I don't have to. If Amara or Magma can help me to use just a little bit, maybe I can use it more." Finally, as she finishes, he gets a funny look and responds: "A teleporter through hell, I am told. A Helleporter."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug coughs. "Hell-adjace." Then he gives Julio a thoughtful look. "You might be able to. Amara can. It tends to either develop right away or way later, depending on a Mutant's powers." But then he says, "I need a second opinion, Illyana. He's plainly crazy powerful. And he's a long way from home. And... after what happened in Genosha..." He sighs. "What do we do here?" He seems genuinely consternated about it. "How much do you know about mutants? And why did you come all the way to New York?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"More complicated. Hell is not one place." Illyana doesn't complain further on that, but she doesn't particularly feel obligated to express the cosmology of the world around them. She replies dryly, "Tell Jean and Scott. She is not a dinosaur anymore. Then you have a choice, how you wish to handle it. Do you want to learn, do you need another direction. Walk if you want to walk. It will not be judged."

Much. But then, she's the ultimate wrecking ball on that theory since not much /can/ halt her from stepping sideways out of the world when the mood takes her. "I am going for a walk." That much said, she slips around Doug out into the woods. Abrupt, but hey, Russian. Communing in the woods with them is a time-honoured tradition.

And she's a Rasputin. That counts for something. Ask Nicholas II.

Julio Richter has posed:
At the mention of Genosha, Julio's chin tips downward, he crosses his arms, and his shoulders sag. "I knew mutants existed. I knew about the X-men and the Brotherhood from the news. When I realized I /was/ a mutant, I tried to apply for asylum in Genosha. But..." He grimaces and trails off just as Illyana leaves. He gives Doug a curious look, having little experience with Russians in general and none with this one in particular, but if anything, just having one person to tell seems to make this next bit easier. "The DFS (Day-Effay-Essay) was looking for me. Probably the cartels, too. I had to be very careful and very quiet and not let anyone know who I was." He takes a slow breath and bares his teeth. "I never got to Genosha, and now I guess I never will." His arms, still crossed, tighten across his chest. "I came to New York because when I saw the X-men and the Brotherhood on the news, it was here. But it was not an easy trip. Or a direct one."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"There are black bears and moose out there!" Doug calls after Illyana, "...Try to make noise so they know to run away!"

Then he rubs the back of his neck and glances at Julio. "I told you, she's intense. But don't worry, she was actually in a pretty good mood." Then he stops. "I was in Genosha. That's where this came from." He flexes his hand, and then lets it drop. "...We didn't want to think we were soldiers, you know. But we are. Now the question isn't that we're going to have to fight, it's 'what the hell are we fighting for?' Because we have to figure it out, and fast." Then he sighs. "...I was trained by the X-Men, Julio. I'm not one -- not yet -- I hadn't made that commitment. But now I think I'm going to have to."

Julio Richter has posed:
Julio gives a nod and just a little bit of a shrug. "I think I get it. She's dangerous maybe, but on-your-side dangerous." Then he breaks into a tentative smile. "I guess that's what having mutant friends is like, right?" He bows his head and, also tentatively, reaches out to grip Doug's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance and solidarity. "I'm so sorry about Genosha. When I heard, I felt like I had fallen, like the earth had swallowed me. I can't imagine what it was like to be there." He takes a moment to let that sit, then continues, "You have been very kind to me, and so has Illyana. If we are soldiers, well..." He offers a bracing smile. "I would like to be dangerous, and on your side."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug looks back at Julio, and then nods, once. "I appreciate that. I figure it's only a matter of time before Magneto pops up and goes through his usual 'I'm going to use the rhetoric of telling people to fight for their rights in order to make everything worse' spiel. I have an ambivalent attitude toward the man but... I know how the boomerang flies." Then he adds, "It'd help if you didn't look like something I fished out of a drain before I introduce you, though..." He rubs his chin. "Hm. You ever think of wearing a mohawk?"

Julio Richter has posed:
Rictor stays quiet at first, taking the hint that now probably isn't the time to mention how much fighting for his rights appeals to him. After Doug finishes, though, he gives a genuine laugh. "A mohawk? Is that supposed to make me less street trash, or am I just leaning into it now?" He pulls back the hair on both sides of his head, letting the waves on top stay free. "I don't know, what do you think?" Then after a second, he looks down and admits, "I take your point, though. I do need to clean up."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug snorts, and then says, "...It's not that I don't get it? I do. But past a certain point it's never about YOUR future... it's always the future Magneto will create FOR you. It's about him... it isn't really about us. And until he can get over that 'I' and embrace the 'We', he's just going to get people killed. So we have to do it for ourselves." Then he shrugs, and says, "I don't mean to insult you, I apologize."

Julio Richter has posed:
"Please don't," Julio says, giving Doug a genuinely perturbed look and holding up both hands, as if to hold the apology at a distance. "I'm not insulted, believe me. Nobody has cared what I look like for a long time. It's... refreshing. And you dress yourself well. I don't mind taking advice." He shakes out his hair, which is still stuck in a bit of an odd shape from his 'mohawk,' and gives Doug a lopsided smile. "I like 'we," he agrees, to conclude. "I have done a lot of alone, and alone? Fucking sucks."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug gives a faint grin. "In the meantime, before I go talk to some people and bring you to meet them, I'll start putting you through some exercise routines to give you an idea of what life as a Mutant paramilitary is like." ...Hell. It's like hell. The stuff Doug does could make a Crossfit champion cry. That's the super-hero life. "But, uh -- some of these people? They're the absolute coolest. At least one of them was worshipped as a *goddess* and if you ever meet her you'll understand why."

Julio Richter has posed:
"Ay, you're serious," Julio answers. "A goddess. Really?" He doesn't seem sure how to take that, but it certainly does sound impressive. "I can't wait to meet them. But! If I'm seriously going to be joining you in your workouts" -- he lifts one finger and gives Doug a pointed, skeptical once-over -- "I should probably have that third dinner after all."

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"We'll get started tomorrow morning." Doug says, "So make sure you get plenty of sleep." He claps Julio on the shoulder. "It's a good thing we're friends now, because by sunset you're going to rue the day you met me, buddy."