16177/And What Do YOU Want to Be

And What Do YOU Want to Be
Date of Scene:	26 October 2023
Location:	Sanctum Sanctorum
Synopsis:	The Stranges decide to make party plans for Hallowe'en.
Cast of Characters:	Stephen Strange, Illyana Rasputina

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Stephen Strange has posed:
The Sanctum Sanctorum is usually quiet. It usually has all of the characteristics of a library. There is the public area, if people visit. There is the more private section, reserved for the rare items. There are items that are on display and certainly not for touching. And, above all else, it is usually quiet. The sort of quiet that is almost oppressive...the sort that almost gives shame to whoever might be daring enough to break the pristine silence.

Usually....but not this evening.

This evening, a playlist is sounding off. And it is in almost every room. It is almost as if there was a series of smart speakers, set to play the same song in every room. If there was actually a need for a network of smart speakers. All of the rooms sound off with the same song

'I don't know what color your eyes are, baby
But your hair is long and brown
Your legs are strong, and you're so, so long
And you don't come from this town

My head is full of magic, baby
And I can't share this with you
I feel I'm on top again, baby
That's got everything to do with you

I'm alive, huh, huh, so alive.
I'm alive, huh, huh so alive'

Someone is enjoying the 80's. And...is that singing from somewhere? It might very well be...

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana Rasputina is not a brunette, and practically incapable of being anything but a platinum blonde. Her impressive fringe falls past her chin in places, and the blunt chop of that long mane maintained in a messy bun to stay off her neck while she struts through the hallway holding the Soulsword like a scruffed cat.

Head full of magical studies and demonic thoughts, because they always are, she makes no secret about her presence. Not exactly stamping her boots against the ground, as that would be awful, but she treads enough to be heard. Her stalking gait slows slightly hearing that. Him.

Stephen's life differed from hers, and in some ways, their relationship could be seen as an oddity. The lack of her pop culture knowledge to go with his is one point of divergence, but she can appreciate a song. Especially certain dark-ish pop. Someone rang?

She pokes her head around the corner, tilted sharply to the side, possibly confirming he isn't inebriated, casting a strange song or possessed by... the urge to sing? Summer? Stars?

Stephen Strange has posed:
Well, it is certainly not the sort of song that one would picture the Sorcerer Supreme to be aware of, much less singing it. However, Illyana is privy to the person behind the Sorcerer Supreme title. And yes, at one point in time that particular person was into alternative rock fusions. And, with the season, darkish pop songs are in.

The song shifts, even as the blonde pokes her head in to ensure that Stephen does not have his wits impaired. And...as the song shifts, so does the singing. It seems it is another song Stephen is aware of.

'Under blue moon, I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms, too late to beg you
Or cancel it, though I know it must be
The killing time
Unwillingly mine

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him'

Grey eyes catch the perplexed expression of his paramour, causing Stephen to stop singing. Clearing his throat, Stephen looks properly sheepish. No, he was not cleaning or anything of the sort. It was just a rare moment of musical indulgence. "Hmm, well, hello there, Illyana dear."

No...not smooth at all.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Is Stephen *dancing*? That moment will be etched in her memory in liquid detail if he is, and not dancing with her. A solitary dance is something entirely different than whisking someone around the dance floor or losing yourself to the beat along with twenty or thirty of your nearest friends or companions at a club. Illyana really knows something about a club, and less but some about ballroom dancing, and even less about this side of her husband.

Far be it for her to interrupt him. She tosses the Soulsword to the side for it to skitter off or evaporate into dust. It certainly doesn't hit the floor or carve a hole through the wall, spinning out and around in a clank of metal.

This one, though...

"In starlit nights, I saw, you,

So cruelly, I kissed you," -- yes, she alters it. He can't do cruel anything.
"Your lips, a magic world,
Your sky, all hung with..." Something. "Spells.
The killing moon
Will come too soon."

Okay, it's not perfect but her best effort will do, and so much for duetting. Hands rest upon her hips, ensuring she can open her stance and her breathing goes down to her diaphragm or at least the vicinity.

Stephen Strange has posed:
There might be a hint of a blush on Stephen's cheeks as Illyana catches him singing. Not dancing, no, not that. Not even Stephen's ego is big enough to convince him he is any sort of dancer. But vocally, it does seem the doctor can carry a tune, should he want to. But yes, caught in the act. Illyana should feel proud.

A wave of the fingers and Echo and the Bunnymen drop in volume. Not completely silent, but quiet enough to facilitate conversation at a reasonable level. "Hmm, yes. I didn't hear you come in." Way to speak the obvious there, Doc. "I was just taking a break from studies."

That...seems to be an exaggeration, if not an outright lie. There isn't any study materials and even the ensemble, which speaks casual comfort, does not support the study vibe. No...Stephen was definitely just vibing. No studying involved.

Still, he is not surprised that Illyana knows The Killing Moon. Though, he smiles when he picks up the slight alteration to the lyrics. He can be cruel if he wants to! Well...maybe not. Illyana knows him rather well. And spells. "Interesting choice. Spells for jewels. It does seem appropriate, though."

There is an attempt to change the subject. Yes, let's not dwell on the performance. "I trust your evening is well?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
An expert in martial arts studied at Kamar Taj can just approach dancing like another form of combat. That's what Illyana does most of the time. What are four steps in a box other than katas performed with an opponent extremely close? He should not find any particular difficulty following the music if he thinks of it as very slow and choreographed combat, lacking the expected wild arm wheeling most of the time.

"You do not need to turn that down. Please, carry on." Rarely does she have to say please, though the amusement burning in her pale winter-blue eyes could be assumed as up to no good. At someone else's expense, except that she doesn't actually turn that onto others she actually cares about. Him, for example. "Much more fun than studies."

A look around confirms there is space, and then she grandly bends in a flourish of a bow with her arms out to the sides. "Unless you study me in very elaborate and deep detail. I can pull out a comfortable chair. Yes? Then you can be as expert as you are in medicine. Very enjoyable when done right, yes?"

Her sedate blink is much like a cat; vulnerable or an invitation to get closer before a ball of trouble launches itself at the unsuspecting hand. She does tend to bare her stomach with short shirts...

..."I had to put some word in there."

Stephen Strange has posed:
In response, Stephen's index finger traces a lazy circle to the right. The volume rises, though not enough to drown out conversation. Just a bit louder to appease. And...about studies. "Oh, I am sure you are well aware I was not in the throes of study at that particular moment." While it is true that Strange usually is studying one thing or another, it is also true that he has nothing of the sort in mind.

Oh, Stephen caught that invitation. And the feline implications. Does he dare to reach in and take his chances or does he play the cautious route and keep at arm's length. "It is true...that sort of research would be rather enjoyable. Perhaps later."

As if on cue, the internal playlist seems to pick up on the shift. Depeche Mode starts to play.

'There's a new game we like to play, you see
A game with added reality
You treat me like a dog, get me down on my knees

We call it 'Master And Servant'
We call it 'Master And Servant

Stephen actually breaks his gaze from Illyana, the attention diverted to the Sanctorum with its choice of musical interlude. "Very cheeky. You picked that on purpose." No...not Illyana. The Sanctum itself.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Monday you can hold your head,
Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed,
Or Thursday watch the walls instead.
It's Friday, I'm in love
Saturday wait
And Sunday always comes too late
But Friday never hesitate!"
Another song comes into rotation and this one Illyana can manage better than some others, since it's so well-played and a staple of Friday nights at just about any club catering to people under 90 or pretending to be thereof. Her singing voice isn't nearly as good as Robert Smith's -- whose is? But she can weave through it rather than hissing Black Planet in a perfectly seductive, rasping gasp like Sisters of Mercy gets around to.

The musical interludes switch back and forth, and she cannot command the radio or streaming device or evil mask from Lesotho to play whatever she wants. But she can respond this way, clapping her hands for emphasis.

"Later? You have something more pressing to deal with?"

Her heel slides against the ground, and then for the hell of it, she smirks. Dropping down to one knee is an effortless action, one practiced often enough to kick the feet of an enemy out. Or accept a knighting all of never. "We want to play rotten, do we? You go to Hellfire Gala for Hallowe'en with a devil on your arm or in your arcane whims?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
Really, as if Stephen had control of the musical interludes. Still, he knows The Cure....and that gets a chuckle.

As for the question Illyana poses? Yes...that is a trap if ever Stephen saw one. And, instead of answering what is more pressing, he instead shifts to answer another question. What to be for the Gala. "I had thought to go to the Gala. Normally I wouldn't, but with you, I thought I would make an exception."

As far as what to wear....that is the question worth asking. "I feel that, should we go, we are dressed in such a manner that we compliment each other. With you being the highlight, of course." Then, those eyes of his focus upon Illyana's. "That is, should you wish to go. Perhaps I shall be your accessory..."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Those icy eyes cast a dagger-sharp look upward, since the Russian cannot very well have any other direction to go unless she wants to look at Stephen's feet. "You do not walk into a den of iniquity without me? Smart man, da. You know." She taps her temple casually and then drops her hand back into her lap.

The ground is not comfortable but she is not bothered, either. Her knee presses flat, shin supporting her weight, a delicate balance.

"Help me, I've got no soul to /sell/." It's a minor change, but she contemplates the question, humming a grungy, twisty bassline, almost swaying despite everything. Music slides and slithers in wandering paths, meandering to coil around the ears. "Help me, the only thing that works for me--"

A costume idea, mm? She nods to that measured inquiry and then smirks. "Help me get away from myself." If he hs idea about what he wants to do, then so be it, she's all ears.