15640/Birthday Pony Rides

Birthday Pony Rides
Date of Scene:	18 August 2023
Location:	Warren's Penthouse
Synopsis:	Here we fade, and you have to imagine how good it was.
Cast of Characters:	Warren Worthington, Kitty Pryde

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Warren Worthington has posed:
On her way over Kitty might have noted the presence of numerous military/utility vehicles parked on the street and the side walk of the towering building. Some of them where private security, others where official and owned by the police and their specialist divisions. All through the lobby, a sea of people in uniform, many of them tall and imposing their eyes concealed by dark sunglasses and names displayed by badges.

Many of them talking to each other in small oligarchic circles, others interviewing the staff, some just cutting off access to key areas that Kitty would have been wordlessly shown through.

"There was an incident, we're cleaning up now, I've been instructed to allow you through." She'd have been escorted in the lift by a pair of men so broad, and so tall, like dolls or a child's imagining of what a cop would be.

When the elevator doors opened on the penthouse, an entire unit of people and their equipment would be waiting. When she stepped out, they crammed the elevator in quasi clown-car fashion and disappeared from view leaving alone in the hall.

Warren was standing near the middle of his sunken living room, looking rakishly disheveled. Black tie undone, collar open, dinner jacket cast onto the back of a nearby couch. The cover of the panic button on the far pillar was up, exposing the shiny silvery surface that begged to be smashed the palm of ones hand. The doors to the balcony open with a cool breeze intruding into the otherwise climate perfect environment. Some scuffling of the fibers in the rug and one tipped over wine glass, a shattered decanter on the tiled floor that marked the transition to the kitchen in the open floor plan. Signs something went wrong.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The sight of the situation outside the Manhattan skyscraper had caused Kitty's concern to grow with each step. Her pace quickening until she'd reached the entrance and the cadre of first responders and others so much more numerous than the building's normal security.

Once off the elevator, she'd hurried through the entry room and into the rest of the penthouse to look for Warren. Finding him, Kitty's eyes quickly took in the state of the rest of the room, her only pause before hurrying over to him. "Warren, what happened?" she asks.

Her eyes anxiously sweep over his body, looking for any signs of injury. As if not trusting just her vision, or maybe just needing to touch him to assure herself that she's ok, a hand goes over to rest on his chest up near one shoulder.

Warren Worthington has posed:
"They where in here before I arrived, not sure what they where doing." he admitted taking her in to his hands and his proximity, he still seemed a bit distracted too much to embrace her properly but make the effort to connect their bodies and allow the unseen electricity they shared to begin flowing. "Then at some point as I was trying to get to the panic button over there...they sort of coalesced together over there by the chair; and then something...my best guess some kind of warp or teleport or, some sort of beam me up Scotty-business happened and they where gone."

He wet his lips, and then explained "There was some kind of effect when I looked at them, I had to fight through it to move and act of my own free will. It was like, like having some kind of psychotic episode where I heard voices telling me things. Sort of hard to describe." he took a breath and then continued, "I could tell they where upset that I walked in when I did."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty Prydes frown grows as she listens. And with it, the amount of physical contact. As if Kitty's hands sliding over Warren's touch could undo the lingering emotions. Or maybe it's just wishing she'd been there to keep him safe.

"Coalesced? Like they came together into a single being?" she asks. Kitty glances over her shoulder to make sure no one else is nearby. "Sort of like Jamie absorbing back one of himself? Or, did they end up different after they came together? They otherwise looked normal?" she asks quietly.

One of Kitty's hands moves up to brush lightly through Warren's golden hair, as if that touch too could help to gently stroke away the mental aftermath of what he was put through. "Any idea what they were looking for or focused on?"

Warren Worthington has posed:
Warren went silent for a moment, as if reviewing mentally the events; his eyes wandering away from the exceptional beauty as she comforted him and into the recent past. "Maybe...I'm not sure. Its like it didn't even happen. Starting to wonder if I just imagined it. I've been under a lot of strain lately, well, not that much...maybe it just accumulated. You know, sometimes self care takes a back seat."

But no one would be fooled by this, his memory had been tampered with, because the only thing that would have driven him to slap that silvery button would be something he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could not handle on his own; a man who would have foolishly tried to handle just about anything on his own in most situations.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty Pryde's fingers caress soothingly along the edge of Warren's hair, and down over his temple. "Not something you imagined," she tells him. "The place looks something went on. And you know how easy it can be for the mind to struggle to make sense of someone being in it," she says of their training resisting telepathic influences.

Kitty moves in closer then, sliding her arms around Warren, the young woman hugging her slimmer form to the older man. "I'm glad you're ok," she tells him softly. "I don't know what all we can do to prevent their... technology or ability, whatever it is they left by, from getting in or out. But we can see if we can come up with something. If nothing else, Hank can probably whip up some sensors if it was an energy manifestation. Something that will give an alarm should they try to return," she suggests, looking up into Warren's blue eyes.

Warren Worthington has posed:
Warren refocused on her now, there was a glint in his eyes like he was only really just now acknowledging she was here, or maybe only now giving her the attention she deserved. "Hey." he said amiably. "Yeah." he said, "Hanks a smart guy." he explained as he suddenly grasped the woman, hoisted her off her feet and placed her on the back of the couch, bullying his way between her knees so they could be close, and face to face. "Isn't it a holiday or something?" he said, eyes glistening with amusement. "Special occasion?" he wondered. Reaching for something in his pocket, producing a small box that looked agonizingly like it might have an engagement ring inside it.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty always gets a little thrilled sensation at being manhandled, lifted and set on the back of the couch. That she's tended towards larger, rugged men isn't a coincidence. She looks up at Warren, shining a loving smile at him.

Her hands make their way to his cheeks, holding Warren's face there as she leans up to kiss him. Slow and gentle and tenderly. The emotions that grew in her before their split are still somewhere inside of her, and this is an occasion where she lets them out unfiltered. Letting her presence do as much as it can to push the lingering effects of his home invasion from Warren's mind.

She lets the kiss break finally, hands moving down to rest on his broad shoulders. A finger teases over some of the feathers of his wing where she can reach it. She looks down in surprise at the box. "I'm sure it is somewhere," she says, eyes lifting to eye Warren with a smile. A smile that his thoughtfulness with the gift has brought to life on the younger woman's face.

Warren Worthington has posed:
Then they were huddled over the little box, a shining star inside, captive on a chain. Too simple a gift for Warren to give, when his lips parted still wet from her kiss he spoke in a low soothing tone, the masculine edge of his voice filling her world, blotting out all other sound.

"A gift to a little boy in 1885, in 1896 it went to Zurich." he glanced to her eyes, trying to see when it would they would light with knowing; she was smart and it would not take long. "In 1915 it was present in a pocket when Eddington confirmed what everyone had hopes and the little boy became a star. In 1921 it met the inventor of trinitrotoluene." he kissed her cheek as sweetly as he could.

In 1923, Jerusalem, in 1925 India." and now with awe, "In 1933, Princeton." another kiss, this time her other cheek. It was pure love that would never be named in that kiss, that would never be admitted to in words, it would frustrate, and confound, but be knowable. "1939." he whispered into her ear, "A letter to Roosevelt. In 1940..." he articulated, tickling her ear with his enunciations, "It came to the United States, and now its yours."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty Pryde looks down at the necklace as the box is first opened, shining at the pretty charm and chain. It isn't quite at the level of tasteful extravagance his gifts normally have. And so perhaps Kitty is wondering if there is more to it as she looks up and casts her soft smile at Warren as he begins to give the explanation.

"Aw, Warren," she says softly as she does indeed make the connections. She reaches down to touch the charm gently with a fingertip. "Probably belongs in a museum more than around my neck," she says to the man. But Kitty leans up, her hands sliding along Warren's shoulders to meet behind his neck. And she kisses him again. This time longer. Letting a little passion inject alongside the emotions that she's let out before.

As much as the gift means, the man's presence means even more, and Kitty basks in his arms as she expresses her feelings for the handsome mutant. Long her teammate. More recently her lover.

Warren Worthington has posed:
"You belong in a museum." he murmured, speaking into her lips and tossing the box carelessly onto the nearby counter. The box landed on an odd stack of well thumbed pages, prints outs, oddly blank. The toner and ink having been stripped off by some power that briefly visited, combed through everything, and took something away with it.

Finally, he slid his arms around her. Finally he took her in as close as she would tolerate, pressing his chest and hips into hers.

He had not forgotten how to kiss, nor forgotten how much he enjoyed her love, the riot of their sex, and the tiny world she created when she visited; the world that made so much sense.

He picked her up off the couch, she could wrap her legs around his waist or let them dangle like a manowar; it would not matter much as he transported her to the center of everything; the rug in the lowest point of the living room, where once placed on her back she could see the Sun's eye in the ceiling; a complex crystalline form that served to bring in natural sunlight during the day and spread it like rays from heaven at noon. Shafts of light so bright and real that they almost seemed like partitions and glowed faintly with tiny, lazy motes.

He laid her down, and laid down on top of her, and loved her even as he imprisoned her with his strength and weight.