18042/We're Friends Now. No Biting.

We're Friends Now. No Biting.
Date of Scene:	23 May 2024
Location:	East Bushwick (Mutant Town)
Synopsis:	A chance encounter between two Queens gives Mystique's newest addition to the Brotherhood's roster of allies a chance to take stock of Lorna Dane and her raw, red passion for protecting her people.
Cast of Characters:	Mary Seward, Lorna Dane

---

Mary Seward has posed:
New York, New York. Finally, after Gotham was starting to feel like such a drag for the Queen of Blood, that little blue vixen Mystique bargained her way into a partnership and a free ride to the city she and her cult had their eyes on. Mary couldn't help but admire herself for how easy it was for her to get her way without even trying.

Though, now here she is, an "associate" for the brotherhood of mutants. Vampire revolutionary buddying up with Mutant Revolutionaries.

Here she was, walking through the busy streets of these Mutant ghettos, surrounded by people she was contractually obligated to not feed on if this partnership would work. Might as well get to know them, if she can't eat them.

Easier said than done.

She slides off a pair of shades she was wearing, black. The black jacket she had on blew in the wind.

"...This place kinda sucks."

Lorna Dane has posed:
For a few years, this was where Lorna Dane called home. After the destruction of Genosha, Mutant Town and neighborhoods like it were the closest thing the Mutant diaspora had to a home to call theirs in a world that hated, feared, or just plain didn't give a shit about them.

So where else was the Queen of a shattered nation to settle but among one of the largest concentrations of her remaining peoples? There are rooms on distant Asteroids, dormitories in hidden enclaves for the Gifted, plenty of infinitely safer places for her to lay her head-- but her people were concentrated here, and places like it. So 'here' is where she stayed, until Genosha healed enough for those who wished it to live there once again.

She still visits. Still spends a few nights a month in her quarters at the Genoshan Embassy; still comes to check on those among her people who chose to continue living in the world proper, rather than abandon it. Sometimes --

-- like tonight --

-- tangling herself in the fabric of Mutant Town means shedding her royal seeming as best as she can. Green hair is only so much of a distinguisher in New York at large, much less in Mutant Town; still, her voluminous waves bear several winding black streaks to match the deep, dark, smoky eye look and black lips she's adopted to go with her leather-forward ensemble. The ring around her bottom lip's real platinum (alloy); the attachment's pure magnetism, straight from the source.

Maybe half a block from Mary, tucked just inside of an alley, she's studying a mural depicting a tragiheroic Magneto simultaneously dying and ascending into the heavens at the hands of enormous Sentinels rendered in heavy shadows as much as anything else. There is a frown on her lips that's been growing ever since she first slid into the alley and started looking, closely, at the mural-- taking all of it in and weighing what it says about her father's continued, outsized presence in the psyche of Mutantkind at large.

"... such an asshole..." breaks containment, slipping from her lips in a barely audible growl. Seeking a break, she turns her attention anywhere else, paces--

-- spots the pale woman with bright hair and a dour attitude watching her people, bristling--

-- and stares, for several thoughtful seconds, before finally sliding her hands into her pockets to approach. By the time she emerges from the alley, the outward, brow-furrowing suspicion's pretty much gone; it still takes her until she's just about in what she assumes to be earshot to actually put a friendly smile on as she offers, "Black's your color," with a cursory scan and a hand drawn from her own black leather jacket's pocket for a brisk wave. "Love the shades..."

The scan ends with Lorna's eyes settling on Mary's.

"... are you new here? I don't think I've seen you around-- I feel like I'd remember seeing you around."

Mary Seward has posed:
Looks like dear Mary's gotten some attention. Whether that's good or bad remains to be see. She twirls her sunglasses around on her finger, as she turns around to face the approaching Mutant. Playing it cool, it seems.

"...Thanks...I don't look too bad in Red either." She places her shades back on. Maybe, she thinks it makes her more appealing to Lorna or maybe the sun's starting to get into her eyes.

"...I am new, actually. A guest of Mystique's...Trust me, if you'd seen me before, you'd definitely remember it." She holds out her hand to Polaris, expecting a nice friendly shake. "Mary Seward, Queen of Blood, at your acquaintance."

Lorna Dane has posed:
'... A guest of Mystique's...'

A green brow arches, slowly. Lorna takes the offered hand in hers firmly and shakes--

-- ah.

Now the other brow starts lifting: Lorna hardly could've expected to find herself in the presence of royalty in the middle of Mutant Town, but if this one's a guest of Mystique's...

"... Yeah?" she answers, a touch more taut now that she's dealing with-- well. Something more than a random encounter with a stranger. Still shaking the vampire's hand - albeit slowly - she folds her other hand around Mary's, capturing it in subtle, pulsing electromagnetic warmth. Her eyes are still set firmly on Mary's; now, of course, she is quietly appraising the redhead. Considering her, pale skin and all--

"Would I have remembered it more in red," she wonders after a soft exhale, trying to balance protective instincts against her faith in Mystique's judgment and give Raven's guest -- their guest, for all intents -- a warm welcome, "or black, do you figure?" The handshake stops-- at least, on her end, it does. She keeps her clutch firm around Mary's hand.

"Polaris," she then murmurs, leaning a touch closer and dropping her voice to a level where - even at this close range - most anyone else would be hard-pressed to hear her, "Queen of Genosha.

"... but I'd rather be cool about it tonight," follows at more conversational volumes as she leans away, "so 'Lorna' is just fine."

Now she lets go.

"How do you and Mystique know each other...?" she wonders, head canting slightly.

Mary Seward has posed:
Lorna goes straight for the eyes, a bit naive to do for a vampire. Mary however makes no attempt on that mind of hers. She had a deal with Mystique after all. What kind of precedent would she set if she broke it so quickly on the first day?...

Best to play nice. While she has the opportunity to.

"I doubt it'd make all that much difference. You'd definitely remember me in nothing." A little tease from her. Just that, a tease. Not that she couldn't notice all that 'appraising' Lorna was up to.

"Oh, two queens in one place! Aren't we just a pair? Sure, we can be cool, let's be cool."

She steps back, her hands going into her pockets. Suppose it's time for a proper introduction to one of Raven's other partners. Good to get a little thing like that out of the way now. "Well, we actually just met not too long ago. She reached out to me, brought some dinner with her, we had a nice chat and well...She talked me into becoming an...associate of sorts for the Brotherhood of Mutants."

She smiles.

"Simple as that, really."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Naivete, ignorance, or confidence: one way or another, there's no hesitation on the Genoshan Queen's part when it comes to meeting her fellow royal's gaze. Her manners are-- rough, all things considered; that much, however, she can manage.

"An associate," she replies, evenly; thoughtfully, "huh?"

Rather than press, she turns aside from Mary and extends her arm, offering it for the taking and inviting her, implicitly, to join her in walking through Mutant Town. "And you're... ..."

Her eyes shift sidelong for a brisk, but pointed scan.

"... I don't, you know," comes with some wry levity as Lorna makes vague, circling gestures with her other hand, "wanna just assume that the pale, red-haired Queen of Blood is a vampire, but.

"You know--" follows softly, the mutant cracking a small smile and gesturing towards Mary herself with her free hand, now, with a quick vertical sweep.

"I have been around the block a couple of times-- and. I mean, obviously: it's fine, you being a vampire! I'm just curious, I guess: what're you planning on bringing to the table?" she finally concludes with a thoughtful lift of her brow. Her voice is back to barely audible by now, trusting that Mary'll hear her regardless.

Mary Seward has posed:
The Queen of Blood accepts the Queen of Genosha's arm, and grips on. "Oh, thank you."

Lorna breaks the silence with her inquiry, while Mary just stares at her incredulous. Tipping her shades down, as if Lorna needed to see the bafflement in them, let alone in the rest of her expression.

Her head is thrown back as she has a laugh.

"Really? Me? A vampire? Don't be so silly." Each word she speaks, she makes an effort to show her fangs. Especially, in the nice big grin on her face at the end of her sarcastic tirade.

. "...Nah, but, seriously. Yes, I am a vampire, and I'll have you know, I'll bring quite a lot. I've got a nice posse of my kind at the ready, and well...you guys have no shortage of enemies...I figure that we could help take them off your hands...and at the same time...We get a steady food source. Win-Win." She waves her hands around, playfully.

"...But, you know, it's not just that...see, I resonate with the whole thing you've got going on. I really do..."

Lorna Dane has posed:
"Now and again," Polaris softly says, folding her hand over her fellow Queen's, "I've thought about where postmortality intersects with posthumanity-- there are a lot of ghosts on Genosha, you see."

She says this without a hint of irony or mirth.

"And we've taken some pains to make them comfortable, right? As much as we can, anyway... ... but that, ultimately, is because we reasoned that a citizen of Genosha lingering after death was still a citizen of Genosha," comes with emphasizing gestures. Given the chance to talk, think about the question of what it means to be human and the many permutations of such, excitement dials her pace up and puts a distinct twinkle in green eyes.

"But:" the gesturing resolves into a single raised finger skating towards Mary until it's inches from her. "It's more complicated than that, isn't it? A Mutant is a human whose body, or mind, or-- some intrinsic part of them's been altered beyond the human baseline. Traditionally, we deal with genetics, because that's what's most common: magic genes and science accidents changing people's DNA around," is accompanied by the fingers of her gesturing hands shuffling around demonstrably.

"I don't know how your, you know. Genes work," comes with a brisk, self-aware smile, "but you were fundamentally, permanently altered from the human baseline..." Lorna trails, letting her free, gesturing hand fall to her side for now.

"So are vampires Mutants...?" she concludes, compressing the energy of the conclusion she's been building to into another private whisper as she tries to catch Mary's eye. "Are we parallels--? Natural allies, in a world that isn't quite ready for us to be a part of it?"

She allows the question to linger for a beat, then:

"They're very sharp, by the way," follows, just as quiet.

Because while she isn't sure that this is what passes for a compliment in vampiric cultures, it does, at least, feel rude not to acknowledge someone very pointedly showing her fangs off. That must mean she's proud of them-- right?

Mary Seward has posed:
She was absolutely proud of her fangs. That acknowledgement of their sharpness just gave Polaris a nice sport in her 'Good Book.' "Thank you!" They look even sharper as she smiles.

Now the girl was questioning her on the nature of vampirism. How rare it was for her to get on that end. Usually, anyone who wanted to know more was really just begging them to turn and asking basic generic stuff: How does it feel, does it hurt, is it like the movies? Yet, this girl wanted an honest to god biology lesson. It was cute.

"Are vampires mutants?..." Such a peculiar question. "...Well...I mean, I'm sure there are some mutants out there that have gotten turned at some point. We're not really born, like you are...For the most part." The Queen of Blood shrugs her shoulders, looking upwards as she takes her time to actually think on this. How best to explain the nature of a vampire. She was wise and well beyond her years, yet she was never one to read up on genes or that sort of thing.

"We're not born this way, like you are...A vampire is often something you must become...Now, some of us manifest in differently. The Assholes from Hungary are very much different from me...and are probably more in line with what you'd expect a..mutant-y vampire to be...Still, if we fit under your general definition of what a mutant is...That's fine by me."

"What we can agree on...is that we are fundamentally different from humans...and they hate us for that. They fear us..." Her positive demeanor turns quickly bitter as she starts to talk more serious.

"...I want to change that for my kind...just as much as you wish to change it for yours.. On that end, we are most certainly linked...That Magneto, he's a big inspiration to me. You see those posters, those t-shirts, saying 'Magneto was Right'. I want that. I hope my immortality stretches far enough that I get to see someone wearing my face with 'Mary was Right' in big bold letters underneath."

Lorna Dane has posed:
"We believe that Mutants can be made as much as they can be born," Lorna notes, slipping into the cracks of Mary's explanation. "But it's a complicated distinction, still--"

She's happy to quiet as Mary takes a distinctly grave turn, edging half an inch closer and listening intently. At first, she nods: familiar sentiments coming from a stranger's mouth have a way of bolstering one's faith in one's own perspective, and obviously she empathizes. The circumstances may differ - there are crucial details separating their two peoples' ways of surviving, after all - but the spirit of struggling to survive a world that would rather you didn't...?

That can't help but hit home.

-- and neither could the source of Mary's inspiration. In fact, that hits so hard that Lorna actually stops in her tracks, recoiling slightly-- clenching every muscle in her body, as if struck.

It takes a couple beats for her to release a long, carefully measured breath through her nose; another to unclench her jaw and shift her eyes sidelong towards Mary.

Another still for, "Magneto's a land of contrasts," to come out as even-toned as it does, low and taut. "He's a brilliant man, but as inspirations go... ... just make sure you're paying attention to all the things he's gotten wrong along the way, if you want to do right by your people in the long run." Even through her best effort at control, grave tinges match the serious turn of Mary's own thoughts on her condition. "It's dangerous, putting someone on a pedestal so high that you can't make out their faults anymore."

Another brief, quiet moment passes as Lorna lets out a quick, agitated breath.

"... not to lecture you," she then tacks on, softly.

Mary Seward has posed:
"Nah, I'm different and I'm me and not him, so I'll be fine, I think." She puts it as plain as that. As if it's not even just a certainty, but an off-hand fact. "Listen, don't take it the wrong way, I like what he went for, but I'm more in the business of succeeding than he is." From praising the man to almost dismissing him in hardly no time. Seems she was also a land of contrasts.

"Nevertheless..We are both defined by how through action, we will end the long, long oppression of the human...It's basic Intersectionality, right? I'm old but I know the hip social justice lingo." She claps her hands together. "What's good for me, is good for you. Trust me on that."

Lorna Dane has posed:
"Fair enough."

The small, sardonic smile says that there's very little chance of Lorna taking much of anything negative said about Magneto the wrong way.

"Then I'll have to get to know you on your own terms," she adds as the edges of her expression soften. "He's my father; I'm not particularly interested in being judged by his standards either."

The casual, strolling pace resumes, now that they've gotten past that speedbump. Unless Mary breaks the silence, she's content to let it linger between them for a block or so of walking past the mishmash of shops, homes, and hangouts that make up so much of Mutant Town. The exterior's rough; for a host of reasons, this is one of the last pieces of Brooklyn that gentrification hasn't quite gotten a hold of yet. What this means in practice, though, is that the heart and soul of a people who've had to make do with the scraps they could extract from the society that so often shuns them beat clearly through the patchwork threads of the neighborhood. Eventually:

"So what is good for you, then?" she wonders with a glance and an arched brow. "In the short term?

"What do you figure'll be good for us?"

Mary Seward has posed:
"Like I said...I take care of the nasty little enemies that are constantly getting in your way and stomping on your fun. Me and my people feed, and are free to go about our business. A mutually beneficial relationship." She smiles, putting a hand around Lorna.

"I'm old and I'm powerful. My vampires are fearsome killing machines...No one will want to screw with this place once they know our might. We're the best friends you could ask for and the worst enemies you could ever make."

Lorna Dane has posed:
An old, powerful apex predator wraps an arm around Lorna and promises her all the dead enemies she could want. In return, Lorna leans inwards as her eyes narrow, and her lips press into a curious smile.

"And Mystique's talked to you about ground rules, I'm assuming-- about how there's no biting any of our people who don't consent to it?"

Her heart palpably skips a beat, even as she stands firm in confirming that her people's interests are considered. Audibly jolts, thumping anxiously in ears adapted for hunting in the darkest of nights as a young, inexperienced Queen gives a wild, ancient, lethal one her surest face.

"As long as your people are on their best behavior around my people... we'll get along great," she concludes. Shortly afterwards, the smile slips away-- softens into something more neutral.

Thoughtful.

Green eyes narrow just a bit further--

"... as far as enemies go," she ultimately murmurs, "how does it work for you, and yours, and..."

A few circling gestures, "... y'know..."

turn into quick, sloppy, criss-crossing lines in the air: "... religious stuff?"

Mary Seward has posed:
"Yeah, that's the agreement...Mutants are off-limits...save a few exceptions. Namely, those who make themselves a threat to us all." She pats on Lorna's shoulder, as if she's trying some means of faux-reassurance. "...Don't worry, we'll play nice. We're friends now. No biting..." She leans in.

"Unless you ask, of course."

Then she quickly pulls away.

"...It'd be appreciated if you'd refrain from that...Now, as for things like the sun, that won't kill us, just...hurts. Don't you dare try garlic on me. Screwing up like that's a good way to get eaten."

Lorna Dane has posed:
Lorna quickly stops, splays her black-tipped fingers out-- squints at her palm for a moment--

"-- sorry about that--" she quickly mumbles as she jams her hand into her pocket.

A brief, apologetic smile flashes before melting in the face of burning, wrathful need; it is only just caged behind a flattening expression.

"We've got a particular bunch of pains in our asses who we could use some back-up against, but their whole fucked up thing is mixing religion with hating-- well, us." Beat.

"-- I mean, and probably you guys too, honestly, if they even know you exist-- they're not really the discerning type of racist, religious zealot--" lowly snarls before she catches herself.

"Anyway," she exhales, flicking her eyes up from the pale face of murderous adaptation briefly as she steadies herself, "These witch-hunting fucks: they're getting their hands on gear they shouldn't be anywhere near-- these people are usually miltech, maybe low-to-medium end AIM, max, and they showed up at a bookstore to murder everyone inside with magic-fucking-guns-- so."

She releases another, longer breath as her eyes settle on Mary's again.

"If you can - if it's even safe for you," she continues, low and seething, "more eyes and ears to figure out what's going on... and more hands to rip the fuckers apart would be greatly appreciated. And if not-- ... I mean, we're friends, right?"

Her harmlessly spread hand leaves her pocket so she can show Mary her palm as she steps back in.

"There's no pressure; we'll figure it out. There are plenty of people out there asking for a taste of karma, after making their livelihoods on our backs, from our blood... we'll find plenty for you to do, one way or another," she promises.

Mary Seward has posed:
Mary Seward grins. "...We can certainly arrange something along those lines." All that bloodlust in Lorna's eyes, in her voice, in her face. Mystique already made a good impression, but if Lorna here set an example...She was gonna like her time with the Brotherhood.

"...This has been a good talk, Lorna. Let's hope we get many more...Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go grab a bite to eat...so to speak." She winks, as she begins her departure. "...Catch you later."