19104/A Day in Nottingham

A Day in Nottingham
Date of Scene:	17 September 2024
Location:	Amara's Apartment (College House)
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Amara Aquilla, Kurt Wagner

---

Amara Aquilla has posed:
"Welcome to the Grand Nottingham Faire! Step into the Land of Legends and Join the Merry Adventures Awaiting Within!"

Morning sunlight filters through a canopy of maple and oak trees lining the gravel path leading to the medieval faire's entrance. The crisp air carries the scent of pine and a hint of woodsmoke from distant hearth fires. Ahead, a grand wooden gate stands open, adorned with wrought-iron accents and flanked by towering banners that flutter gently in the breeze. Each banner displays vibrant heraldry -- golden lions, crimson dragons, and silver unicorns -- adding splashes of color against the clear blue sky.

The sounds of the faire begin to reach the pathway: cheerful melodies from lutes and flutes, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer on anvil, and the occasional burst of laughter from early attendees. A jester in motley attire balances on a wooden barrel near the gate, juggling a set of colorful balls while tossing witty quips to amuse the gathering crowd. His antics draw smiles and the occasional coin tossed into his upturned hat at his feet.

Vendors have set up stalls along the approach to the gate, their tables laden with handcrafted wares. One merchant displays an array of intricate leather goods -- belts embossed with Celtic knots, pouches adorned with brass fittings, and journals bound in soft suede. "Finest leather in all the realm!" he proclaims, his voice rich and inviting. Next to him, a glassblower carefully arranges delicate ornaments that catch the sunlight, casting tiny rainbows onto the faces of onlookers.

A group of children darts between the adults, wooden swords clutched in their hands as they engage in playful duels. Their laughter rings out, a joyful counterpoint to the deep toll of a distant bell marking the hour. An elderly woman pauses to adjust the flower crown atop a young girl's head, earning a grateful grin before the child rushes off to rejoin her friends.

The path's gravel gives way to smooth cobblestones as it nears the entrance. A minstrel leans against the stone archway, fingers dancing over the strings of a lute as he sings a ballad of knights and enchanted forests. His voice is clear and melodious, drawing the attention of those passing by. A small crowd gathers, some tapping their feet to the rhythm, others humming along with familiar refrains.

On one side of the gate, a falconer stands with a majestic hawk perched on a thick leather glove. The bird's sharp eyes survey the surroundings, its feathers ruffling slightly as it adjusts its stance. "Care to meet Sir Talon?" the falconer asks, gesturing to the hawk. He offers informative tidbits about the art of falconry to those who show interest, his passion evident in every word.

A nearby stall emits enticing aromas of freshly baked goods. Loaves of crusty bread, fruit-filled tarts, and spiced pastries are displayed in woven baskets. "Warm yourself with a treat fresh from the oven!" calls out the baker, a rosy-cheeked woman dusted with flour. She hands a warm roll to a passerby, who bites into it with an appreciative smile.

The entrance itself is a hive of activity. Guards dressed in period armor stand at either side, halberds in hand and expressions friendly beneath their helms. They greet incoming guests with courteous nods. "Welcome to the faire! May your adventures be plentiful and your purse heavy!" one says with a wink.

A signboard near the gate lists the day's events in elegant calligraphy: jousting tournaments, archery contests, storytelling sessions, and performances by acrobats and magicians. An artist sits nearby, sketching quick portraits for a few coins. Charcoal smudges stain his fingers as he captures the likenesses of patrons eager to take home a memento.

Overhead, the rustling of leaves accompanies the chirping of birds hidden among the branches. Sunbeams break through the foliage, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the ground. Wildflowers peek out from the grass at the path's edge -- bright blues, yellows, and purples adding to the tapestry of colors.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
A woman dressed as a medieval noble strolls past, her gown's rich fabric trailing slightly on the ground. She carries a basket filled with lavender sachets, offering their calming scent to those who wish to purchase one. "A touch of tranquility for your travels," she says softly.

As the guests approach the gate, the energy of the faire envelops them. The mix of sights, sounds, and scents creates an atmosphere brimming with anticipation. Just beyond the entrance lies a world where the past comes alive -- a place of wonder waiting to be explored.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
The start of the semester at Xavier's School for the Gifted means that the long, lazy days of summer rather swiftly come to an end. The quiet of the mansion, of the grounds is rather swiftly disrupted by the activities of dozens, hundreds of young mutants and the need to both teach and supervise them means that free hours can be a little hard to find, depending on the day.

But there is still the weekend, right?

While Kurt Wagner may very much appreciate his job, appreciate the work he gets to do with young mutants, he is not disappointed at all to be able to get away from the campus for the day either. Admittedly some of that has to do with hiscompanion for the lovely autumn day, but it is an undoubted needed break no matter what.

The first hints of autumn are very much in the air and despite the days still being very much on the warm side, color has already started to creep into the tree leaves that rustle in the breeze, flickers of reds and oranges and yellows mixing with the greens that still predominate. Occasionally that light wind even tugs a leaf or two free from it's perch, sending it swirling through the air, carried aloft for a time before it comes soaring back down to the earth.

A grin slides over the fuzzy blue elf's expression as he nears the entrance to the medieval faire that is their destination on this particular weekend excursion, bright golden eyes taking it all in. Sure, they could throw a much more accurate representation of medieval or Renissance life together in the Danger Room. There would not be all the people in 'modern' clothing wandering about, enjoying the pleasant day and exotic sights and sounds. But it wouldn't be quite the same either. No matter how good the simulation, it can't capture the feel of certain things.

Even in this crowd, Kurt stands out. At least a little. Of course, that was always going to be a given. While they might not be the only mutants present -- there are at least a few others from the school wandering around -- the indigo fuzz that covers Kurt is certainly striking under the sun. As are those vaguely devilish features and the tail that flicks in lively fashion behind him as he walks.

He certainly has gotten into the spirit of things, after a fashion at least, and while he might not be dressed as a medieval peasant in some homespawn tunic, the puffy white silk shirt with laces at best loosely done and the tight black breeches show a certain old timey flair. A bright red sash circles his waist, complete with the scabbard for what appears to be a rather elaborately hilted rapier, and a similarly red scarf is wrapped around the top of his head in rakish fashion.

Someone clearly fancies himself a pirate.

Those bright eyes sweep over everything, taking it in with an undeniable delight. From the children that scamper about, playing with their mock swords, to the various hawkers that attempt to entice the passersby to stop at their stalls, to grab a bite to eat or pick up a souvenir or even some of the much more elaborately made and crafted goods of various sorts, from leathers to hand crafted wooden bits and baubles. The possibilities seem positively endless.

"You know that we are going back to the mansion positively laden down with all sorts of these things, right? I may have come in one costume, but I think I'll be going home with at least three or four possible new ones," he points out with a grin.

Oh yes, this is one outting that is right up Kurt's alley and clearly he intends to make extremely good use of his day off.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
Unbeknownst to Kurt, Amara had been planning this trip for about a month, walking a delicate balance between putting too much pressure on their budding relationship by planning something so far out (Was it presumptuous to assume they'd still be together? Or just optimistic?) and waiting so long to tell him that he made other plans.

In the end, she'd decided to wait until about a week before the event to invite him. She'd already gotten the costume she intended to wear, and some part of her was as excited to see his reaction to her take on 'Robin Hood' as she was to spend the day with him.

It's not as if the costume is indecent, per se, but it's doubtful Robin would have worn it around any of his Merry Men -- too much of a distraction on those already dangerous raids.

Layered in white, green, and brown, a rouched, ruffled, and lace-trimmed white mini-dress clings to her slender frame, its off-the-shoulder sleeves leaving her shoulders bare. It falls to the flirty length of only about mid-thigh, the lace detailing swishing around her bare legs when she walks. Over the dress she wears a forest-green tunic vest, open in the front but belted around the waist with various small brown pouches added for accent and small items like her phone. Slouchy brown boots rise up to just below her knees, each with low, blocky, feminine heels, and atop her head sits a feathered cap tilted at a jaunty angle, allowing her golden hair to cascade over her shoulders in loose waves.

After all, if Kurt can be a pirate, isn't it only fitting that she plays a bit of a scoundrel, herself?

Whatever reaction she was hoping to provoke from him with her obviously-fantasy-inspired outfit, however, the reaction he gets from her is... well... blatantly appreciative. Her eyes rake down over his billowing shirt, taking in the sash, the scabbard, all with a slow pull of a smile across her lips.

"Oh, I'm counting on it," she muses, her arm tucked into his, and her gaze cast up to him with a flicker of warm amusement in her eyes.

There's a lot going on -- from the vendors to the children to the couples and families walking around, but Amara's smile has been turned mostly to Kurt more often than not since they arrived.. like she kept checking to make sure he was having a good time. Or maybe like she just couldn't get enough of smiling at him. Those eyes do wander out sometimes, though, as they stroll forward.

"Oh! There's jousting!" So says one of the signs. Still two hours until it begins, though. "Isn't that dangerous for something like this?"

And maybe it's apparent at that point... she's never been to one of these. In fact, she doesn't seem to really know what to expect from any of it, but it's yet another in a long list of new experiences.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
It is, to be sure, a fair concern. Just what is appropriate, just how far into the future they should really look. That little summer fling does not seem to have paled in the least now that the weather is turning slightly cooler, the days getting a little shorter and the nights a little longer. It has even survived that transition back to the day to day routine, to the fact that Kurt actually finds himself teaching one of her courses in what could have been awkward fashion.

And yet they seem to have done an excellent job of avoiding all of that. It doesn't feel awkward in the least. It feels right.

So Kurt's reaction when Amara sprung this little surprise on him? Well that would be delight. Which perhaps is not really a surprise. He has a love for history and a certain love for the dramatic. Any excuse to dress up is generally considered a good excuse, and this is a far better one then most that might be provided.

Of course, that delight is definitely very much in evidence too when the blonde shows off just what she has in mind for her own costume for the Faire. Which is perhaps a given. Really, is there anything that she doesn't look good in? But the very fetching take on the stereotypical 'Robin Hood' garb seems to especially work. And not only does it rather fit with his own choice in costumes, making them sure to be the outlaw duo of the even, but Kurt's love for classic movies, for the swashbuckling adventures of Errol Flynn or Douglas Fairbanks only adds to the appreciation.

Though it is quite likely that the fuzzy blue elf now has his own, new favorite take on the Sherwood outlaw. He might be a little biased in that respect.

Her comment draws a laugh from him, and Kurt slips an arm through her own, entirely unself-conscious despite the looks that they manage to attract. Even in a crowd full of people dressed up in all manner of costumes they definitely stand out. "I'm sure we'll be able to find you a few things as well. I fear you're destined to spend more then a few of your free evenings in the Danger Room with me, playing dressup," he teases lightly. "Though if it helps ease the pain any, it does give me pretty good incentive to make sure that you aren't overloaded with homework," he points out slyly.

Then his gaze is flickering back to all the sights and sounds and scents of the Faire around them, lively music in the air all around them while the aroma of cooking meat and sweet treats lingers nearby as well.

"We will definitely have to go see that. Though I think you will be able to count on the fact that it isn't quite as cut-throat as it might have been in true Medieval times," he assures her. "Though anytime you risk getting knocked off a horse I suppose there's some risk involved," he concedes. "Much of what goes on here is more show, more done for fun, or play, then a real historical recreation," he offers up. "You'll see it in the food available. And the fact that they don't expect everyone to dress up," he says.

While there are plenty of those about in costumes -- some more fitting them him at least -- there are even a few more that simply seem to be enjoying the experience.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
Amara can't help but laugh, the sound bright as her gaze lingers on Kurt's playful expression. "Oh, don't worry. I'm more than up for a little dress-up in the Danger Room, especially if it means an excuse to go shopping... or even just wear this outfit again," she teases, giving a little spin to make the hem of her skirt flare. Her cheeks flush slightly at the thought of more of their private adventures, but it's clear the idea excites her as much as it does him. "You know me. As long as it isn't going to get you in trouble you can't get out of, I'm game."

She spends a fair amount of time worrying about Kurt... maybe because, in her eyes, he doesn't spend enough time worrying about himself. Much of her life has been controlled by worry of one form or another, after all. In New Roma, her father lived in such worry that he sent her away. Living with the tribe in the Amazon, she worried about the new dangers -- both natural and unnatural -- that loomed over her life and when she might go home. After the New Mutants found her, she worried about Selene and the decision to leave her father behind.

Now she worries about what's next in life. She worries her relationship with Kurt will negatively impact him -- after all, he has more to lose than she does. She's essentially on her own, in her last year of college, and tied to nothing.

Well... tied to one thing, now. One gorgeous, fuzzy, blue thing. And very happily tied.

She tucks herself back into his side as they continue walking, her arm wrapped comfortably around his. The colorful sights and lively sounds of the fair buzz all around them, but it's Kurt who keeps drawing her attention. The joy in his eyes, the way his tail flicks with excitement -- it's contagious, and she finds herself grinning more than she ever expected to.

"Well, I'm excited to see what they do with it, then," she muses as her eyes dart between the various stands, vendors, and costumed faire-goers, her curiosity gets the best of her. "So, you're the expert. Is there anything we have to do while we're here? Something we can't miss? Sword fighting... is there sword fighting?"

She tilts her head, her eyes bright with anticipation as she looks up at him.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
The various little stalls and carts that line the cobblestone path add plenty to the ambience around them, though the approach of the respective vendors can vary widely from those content to let the onlookers approach them, to the more boisterous hawkers who make their voices heard over the chattering of the crowd, over the music that fills the air with their cries promising the most spectacular of crafted goods.

As much as Kurt's gaze might dart about, taking it all in, they never stray long from the woman at his side. Understandably so. Particularly when she gives that little spin making that skirt flare enticingly up over her legs and thighs. "I heartily endorse doing a little shopping and seeing what we can find," he agrees with a grin, those golden eyes perhaps lingering a little over long on the expanse of leg that her current costume choice shows off in most appealing fashion. "And I can practically guarantee that I am going to find all manner of reasons to get you back into that outfit, I promise you that," he notes lightly.

One suspects that there will be Robin Hood themed Danger Room sessions in their near future to be sure.

Slipping in close to her side once more, Kurt offers that ever ready grin, arm looped through her own. "Ahhhh, but the one thing that you can count on is the fact that I both excel at getting into -- and then back out of -- trboule. Never fear," he assures her, leaning over to brush a kiss across her cheek before straightening once more.

He knows some of what she has gone through of course. Some of those sources of tension, of worry. And the fuzzy blue elf seems to have made it something of a mission to do what he can to show her the flip side of that life. To have a chance to be free of some of that worry -- to the exten that any mutant can in the current state of the world. Despite all the problems out there, Kurt at least doesn't seem to be willing to let it get him down.

So as they stroll, he points out the odd brightly colored sign, gestures towards a pair of jugglers who toss pins back and forth in simple but quick circles, at a pair playing what appear to be lutes, perched up on barrels beside one of the food stands.

"I suppose that all depends on where you'd care to start. If you're hungry we can certainly grab something easily enough. Or I believe there was the falconry display starting soon over there," he says gesturing down one of the paths that runs away from the main strip. "We can start looking at some of the crafts, see if anything catches our eye. Or there is probably a sword ring somewhere around here. Though I suspect you and I could put anyone of them to shame," he notes with a wicked little grin. Someone plans to show off.

Taking one of her hands in his own, he slips out in front of her before claiming the other as well, backpeddling nimbly through the crowd. "The day is ours so we can fit in as much of it as you feel up to!" he promises brightly.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
That kiss warms her cheek... just like he knew it would. It's subtle, though, just a rosy pink blush. She's not sure she'll ever get used to being with Kurt and how easy it is to just exist with him -- if it was his intention to show her that, he's done an absolutely amazing job, thus far -- but she has gotten better at keeping herself under control. Why, there hasn't been an earthquake in... at least a couple of weeks.

Amara's laugh comes easily as she watches Kurt backpedal through the crowd, his grin irresistible. Her heart feels lighter than it has in a long time -- especially after a week of classes and responsibilities that never seem to let up.

"I'd say we could show off in the sword ring, but let's be honest, we'd make it look too easy," she teases, slipping her fingers more firmly into his as he guides her through the crowd. "We'd end up getting ourselves banned from every faire in the state." There's a twinkle in her eye, a mix of mischief and warmth, as she imagines the scene: the two of them effortlessly parrying and thrusting, showing off their skills just a bit too much.

There are already eyes on them, even if Amara doesn't seem to notice.. or specifically isn't noticing. She's not wearing the outfit for them. She's wearing it for herself and Kurt. And as for her fuzzy blue boyfriend? Well, they can get over it. God forbid one of them actually say something to him and have to deal with her wrath. They'll have to hope all she does is decide to pummel them with a fake sword.

"But the falconry? That sounds amazing. I've never seen it up close." Her eyes widen at the thought. "What do you think? Should we start there and work our way back to the sword ring?" she asks with a grin.

She steps closer to him, their hands still linked, and for a moment she just lets herself take in the easy joy of the day -- his playful confidence, the music filling the air, the bright colors of the stalls around them.

It's so easy to feel carefree with him.

"Besides," she adds, leaning in just a little closer, "at this point, I'm curious to see just how much trouble you _can_ get us into. But you know I'm holding you to that promise of getting back out of it." Her tone is light, playful, but there's a deeper sincerity behind her words. Being with Kurt, letting herself fall into these carefree moments, makes her feel safe in a way she hasn't allowed herself in a long time.

...maybe ever.

"Let's start with the falcons. Then maybe, maybe, I'll let you win in the sword ring later," she teases, giving his hand a gentle tug, her excitement barely contained.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
It is not that Kurt is incapable of taking things seriously. That he deliberately avoids weighty subject matters. But he doesn't tend to be someone that wallows in them. He generally remains positive, no matter the circumstances. And he has a knack for reading the room and recognizing when someone might just need a little bit of a mood bump, something that the fuzzy blue elf is always happy to provide.

It is perhaps a tendancy that is only heightened when he knows somebody well. When he cares about them. He, unsurprisingly perhaps, wants them to enjoy themselves. To enjoy their time around him. So perhaps he goes a little more out of his way to insure that they do so.

Admittedly it is a little easier on days like this, out in the sun and the warmth, amongst the bustling crowds with so much to see and so much to do. To watch children scamper about excitedly under the watchful eyes of their parents. To watch other couples circulate through the crowd. Groups of friends garbbed for the day out.

Really, what's not to love with all of that?

Maybe he goes just a little more out of his way to insure that Amara is having a good time. But then she has more of the greater world to experience then many of them. Though that also comes with her fair share of experiences that even a world traveller like Kurt can barely conceive of. But then that is perhaps another of those things that draw them to one another. One more thing to delight in the other.

So he flashes that smile when a hint of color creeps into her cheeks, not teasing, just that same, customary delight that he can provoke that sort of reaction from her, that she enjoys his company that much. A low laugh escapes him at the mention of the perils of venturing into the sowrd run and he tips his head her way. "Mmmmm, you might have a point. Though it would *almost* be worth it to show everyone how it's done, he adds, keeping a firm hold on her hands and continuing to back peddle through the crowd without apparent concern, his tail flicking and swishing behind him, perhaps alert for any potential obstructions.

Just one more thing that it is good for.

Those golden eyes glint merrily under the bright autumn sun and as she leans in a little, the fuzzy blue elf certainly isn't shy about closing the distance, hands sliding along her forearms before slipping free entirely, instead moving to frame her waiste. "Is that so?" he murmurs. "Well, I shall have to find an excuse to show you just how it's done. Perhaps on the dance field later," he adds before abruptly beginning to spin her off into something of an impromptu dance, weaving with that near supernatural ability in amongst the crowd, drawing a few startled looks but only laughing as his hand slips back into her own.

"Falconry it is then," he enthuses before holding a hand up to his chest, clutching at that white silken shirt. "My pride, my vanity, it would never recover if you were to find a way to best me. Fortunately I have you looking out for my oh so fragile ego," he says with a playful wink her way before turning down that side path.

"Alright my dear, the falcons await!"

Amara Aquilla has posed:
Amara lets out a soft laugh, her heart fluttering as Kurt spins her around effortlessly, the sudden dance pulling her even more into the moment. She has always been in control, always anchored by responsibility or the weight of her past, but being with him -- especially like this -- makes her feel lighter, more carefree than she ever thought possible. It's a feeling she's slowly learning to trust, even when it feels almost too good to be real.

Her smile lingers as he takes her hand again, the warmth of his touch grounding her in a way that makes her forget about everything else -- the crowd, the stares, the world beyond this vibrant faire. She can't help but marvel at the way Kurt moves, his playful grace. "Oh is THAT so?" she teases, "I -- "

Whatever she was going to say trails off into a squeal (certainly a very proper, noble squeal, rather than an undignified, girlish one) as Kurt leads her, but she follows without even a note of hesitation or resistance. Her hand squeezes his as they weave through the crowd. There's no rush, no pressure. Just the two of them, moving through the day like they've done this a hundred times before. It feels easy, natural -- even when everything about their lives is anything but.

How is it so easy to trust him -- to give herself over to his whims, even when it feels like he might be flinging her off into a crowd? Whatever that connection is that has kept them together past the 'obvious' expiration date on their relationship of the end of summer, it shows itself boldly in that moment. She doesn't go flinging wildly into the crowd. She spins with him, moves with him, immediately taking on that dancer's drame -- rigid enough to give him something to lead, fluid enough to enjoy the dance.

Laughter fills the space between them, heedless of the startled looks of Robyn Hood 'recklessly' waltzing down the with the path with the Fuzzy Blue Pirate. But it isn't reckless at all. The only reckless part was how fast and how hard she'd fallen for him. Now, all that's left is to hang on for the ride... literally and figuratively... and she didn't mind being his dance partner even one bit.

When he brings up his 'fragile ego,' Amara can't help but snicker softly, her fingers threading through his as they walk. "It's one of the many services I offer... but only for those I truly care about," she says airily, her hand rising to touch her chest with a crooked smile and a dip her of head that's a bit like doffing that pointed green feathered cap she's wearing. It's a little too small for her head, pinned into place, and adorable for its slides.

Her eyes dart ahead as they near the falconry display, excitement bubbling up inside her. "I've always wanted to see something like this," she admits, her voice a little softer, more sincere. Many of the seats are taken by the time they get there, but there are a couple still left in the back!

--

The falconry show begins with a grand, ceremonious introduction. The lead falconer, a tall man dressed in rustic, medieval garb of leather and wool, steps into the center of the field with a large, regal falcon perched confidently on his gloved arm. His voice booms across the crowd, welcoming them and explaining the ancient art of falconry -- once a noble pursuit of kings and queens, used for hunting and sport. He gestures to the handlers behind him, each holding a different bird of prey, ranging from sleek falcons to majestic hawks and powerful eagles. The crowd falls into a hushed silence as he shares stories of the birds' history, their role in medieval society, and the special bond between falconer and falcon, before signaling for the first bird to take flight. The energy shifts, and the air fills with anticipation, setting the stage for the spectacle to come.

As one of the falconers raises his arm, a magnificent peregrine falcon launches into the air, its wings beating with graceful power. The crowd gasps as the bird soars high above, cutting through the sky with ease, its sharp eyes scanning the ground below for the lure the falc

Amara Aquilla has posed:
As one of the falconers raises his arm, a magnificent peregrine falcon launches into the air, its wings beating with graceful power. The crowd gasps as the bird soars high above, cutting through the sky with ease, its sharp eyes scanning the ground below for the lure the falconer swings. In a matter of seconds, the falcon dives, a blur of feathers and speed, before snatching the bait mid-flight with incredible precision.

Each bird displayed seems more impressive than the last -- hawks, eagles, and owls -- all showing off their unique hunting skills.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
There are times when she can be so serious. So studious. Perhaps it has a little something to do with the kind of life she has had to lead, being exiled from her own home, cutoff from her family and forced to grow accustomed to a world that bears very little in common to the one that she left behind in Nova Roma or the Amazon.

Or maybe it has a little to do with all the hardships that she has to endure despite her relatively youthful years. Or perhaps it is part and partial of being a 'noble', that belief and committment to the ideal that her rank and priviledge come with certain obligations too. Certain responsibilities.

Under the circumstances it would be easy to overlook the fact that she is just barely past her twenties, with a great many things still to experience.
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And Kurt, it would seem, is extremely committed to making sure that she gets a good, healthy dollop of living in just about every thing they do. Not that he doesn't get plenty out of it as well of course. Things like seeing the world through her eyes for a time, or even experiencing something again for the first time.

But most of all he gets to spend that time with her.

Really, the fuzzy blue elf would scarcely believe that attraction would bloom so quickly or run so deep that mere months later it is almot impossible to imagine not having this. Not having these outtings to look forward to. Not sharing meals, or stealing moments betwen classes and assignmnets. Or even just coaxing that secret smile that she only has for him in the middle of class.

So yes, of course Kurt lives for moments like these. When he can make her forget her cares for a time. When she doesn't have to worry about the politics of her home that has sent her into exile so far away. Where she doesn't have to about what it means to be a mutant and how that in turn might make her life a challenge here in the greater world. Where she can just worry about having fun for a few hours.

That's worth a lot. That's worth everything.

He is not shy or reluctant to acknowledge his feelings. And the fuzzy blue elf is very much aware of just how much she's come to mean to him in a very short time indeed. And he has a pretty strong hunch that the feeling is very mutual indeed.

So he grins and gives her a bit of a reprieve from the wild galavanting as they head down that side path, head towards the open clearing a little way aways from the various stalls, from the many and varied distractions that might otherwise capture the attention of even well trained birds of prey. "It's pretty interesting! It almost makes me regret not being about to fly," he agrees lightly before gesturing towards the pair of empty seats they spots.

And then promptly cheats, vanishing with her with a soft *bamf*, suddenly reappearing an instant later only a step away from those seats to better lay claim to them before anyone else can.

Even seated he keeps a hold on her hand, simply enjoying the warmth of it in his own and he ocasionally sneaks glances her way, getting as much enjoyment out of her reactions to it all -- fresh and unvarnished -- as he does from the elaborate display in and of itself.
    hough in fairness it is not very long at all until he is joining in with the little, rapts murmurs of amazing ment as the various birds -- more then just falcons despite the name of the sport -- offer their own takes, circling above or diving down to snag lures tosses for them before returning to those leather bound wrists to take perch and collect their treats.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
"I _can_, but not like a bird. It's more like a... bottle rocket?"

Amara can't help the laughter that bubbles up when Kurt teleports them to the seats. The familiar smell of sulfur lingers briefly in the air before it fades, leaving her slightly breathless from the sudden shift. She never quite gets used to that -- _bamf_ and suddenly they're somewhere else -- but with Kurt, she finds herself welcoming the unexpected. It can be disorienting (and she doesn't just mean the bamfing), but there's a thrill to it... the unpredictability that comes with being close to him.

"And you can do that."

As they settle into the seats, her hand still firmly clasped in his, she finds herself glancing over at him, warmth spreading through her chest. She watches his golden eyes sparkle with that ever-present mischief, but there's something more in them too -- something softer, more profound. She's watched him care deeply about making sure she has moments like this -- moments where the weight of her past and the looming responsibilities of the future disappear, leaving only the present.

But the 'present' is exactly what she was missing the most. Her past wasn't just _her_ past... it was THE past. No computers. No television. No radio. No cars. No social media (unless you counted the social gatherings and the rumor mills, which Nova Roma has in abundance). In just a couple of months, Kurt hadn't just entered her life as someone she wanted to spend more and more time with. He'd gone out of his way to give her new experiences, to want to spend time with her, and that led to moments like this, when she reciprocated... an historical event that was both past and present combined!

Much like both of them are: one foot in the past, one foot in the present.

She leans into his shoulder slightly, watching as the falcons take flight one by one. The power and grace with which they soar is mesmerizing, each bird moving with a purpose, its eyes locked on the lure below. Amara's breath catches in her throat as a peregrine falcon dives, cutting through the air like an arrow, the crowd gasping in unison as the bird snatches the bait mid-flight.

"This is incredible," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft murmurs of the crowd. She glances at Kurt, her expression filled with awe. "The control, the focus..." She trails off, captivated once again by a hawk's wide arc through the sky before it descends in a blur to catch its prey.

And it's moments like these, when she's lost in the present with him, that she realizes just how much Kurt means to her. Maybe she doesn't have to say it. Maybe he already knows, but it fills her with a quiet, deep warmth. For now, though, she lets the smile tug at her lips as she watches him, her fingers still intertwined with his.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
While flying certainly does sound like it would be a great deal of fun, Kurt admittedly probably wouldn't trade his ability to go from one place to another in a blink of an eye. It is something that he has learned to utilize to rather great effect afterall and even with it's limitations he can't imagine not being able to do it.

"I'm sure that soaring like a bird would be rather spectacular. Looking down on everything, just enjoying the wind currents carrying you aloft," he muses as he settles in next to her, murmuring quiet enough not to unduly disturb either those around them or the performance in the center of those assembled bleachers.

Those eyes glint merrily as they seek her out once more. Even in the midst of all these distractions, she's the one that he craves, the one that he just can't help but return to time and again. "But flying like a bottle rocket? Now that sounds exciting."

Of ocurse that would hold some appeal to Kurt. He might appreciate the quiet and the calm from time to time. But adventure? Excitement? Those are the lures that draw him back time and again. So naturally the idea of hurtling through the sky at an unknown trajectory would have appeal to him. Of course, it probably helps if worse came to worst he could simply bamf them right back to safety. As far as catch-all, safety outlets go it is a pretty tough one to beat.

As her fingers lace with his own, as she leans in to rest her head against his shoulder the fuzzy blue elf instinctively dips it a little and leans back against hers, cheek tilting to rest pressed to that blonde hair and for the moment he simply falls silent. He simply drinks in the muted appreciation of the crowd, of the periodic cries of the birds as they sweep down and snag those lures in turn, talons gripping them hard as they return to their handlers, treats give and hoods reapplied to keep them calm despite all the distractions that surely most come from performing in front of crowds.

"It is pretty impressive, isn't it? I imagine the training time, the detail that they need to go through is pretty significant," he agrees. "Not exactly the most peaceful or equitable of sports admittedly. Certainly something of a dying artform. But really interesting to see in action," he agrees as each bird is loosed in turn, taking their moment to perform.

And the best part? He gets to enjoy it all with her.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
"Impressive and dangerous," she agrees.

As Amara nestles against Kurt's shoulder, the warmth of his cheek resting against her hair gives her a sense of feeling grounded, secure in a way she never anticipated. She watches the falcons and hawks glide through the air, and as she draws in a deep breath, she realizes... she doesn't want to fly. Not right now. Right now, she is exactly where she wants to be.

She turns her head slightly, glancing up at him as her mind drifts to a question that's been swirling around since they arrived. He's so passionate about history, about the past -- she can't help but wonder what part of it speaks most to him. So, with a soft, teasing smile, she decides to ask.

"What's your favorite period in history?" she murmurs, her voice gentle, but with a playful lilt as she taps his chest lightly with her free hand. "Let me guess, though. I bet it has something to do with swashbuckling pirates or musketeers, right? I mean, I can see you swinging from the rigging of a pirate ship, sword in hand, or dueling in the streets of Paris." Her smile widens as she throws him a teasing glance.

She pauses for a moment, her gaze lingering on his golden eyes, studying his reaction. "But then again... maybe it's something a little more refined. The Renaissance? You strike me as someone who'd appreciate the art and innovation of that time. The drama of it all, the clash of cultures, the rise of new ideas... a mix of tradition and adventure?"

Amara tilts her head back to look up at him, her expression softening. "Or maybe I'm completely off. You're always surprising me, so I wouldn't be shocked if it's something I never would have guessed," she adds with a chuckle. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze, her curiosity clear. She wants to know more about him -- not just the Kurt she shares these beautiful moments with, but the Kurt who's been shaped by his own passions and dreams.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
there is no doubt that, should those birds be directed against prey of a different sort they could be surprisingly deady, with those razor sharp talons and beaks. Chances are good that through the course of history, they have indeed be used for such things before. HUmanity tends to be rather good in corrupting almost anything and finding a means to utilize it to kill afterall. Why would birds be any different.

"That is very true," he murmurs in agreemnt, thumb idly stroking over the back of her hand, letting those fingers linger in her own. "Though if you think these birds are worrisome, perhaps I should introduce you to the works of Alfred Hitchcock when we get back to the Mansion tonight," he suggests.

As much as he loves history, he is even more of a cinephile. All the drama and romance, all the boring parts cut out. Or at least most of them, depending on the movie. The swashbuckling adventures might be his favorite, but it is probably only a matter of time before Amara finds one of her weekends purloined to watch a Film Noir festival.

It might not always be a thrill a minute, but there is a good chance that he will still surprise her often enough.

The question is a good one and he tilts his head in consideration, leaning in close to her so that their little discussion doesn't disturb anyone around them. Or equally as likely just because he is more then happy to seize upon even the slightest of reasons to keep close to her. He would hardly deny it. "That is a tough one," he murmurs thoughtfully.

"I might still be full of a surprise or two, but I think you know me increasingly well. I must admit, the age of Pirates or the French Musketeers does have it's appeal. And if we were playing in the Danger Room I think you can definitely count on those scenarios coming up often," he agrees.

"But the Renaissance? All that art, all the learning? And it isn't like there wasn't the rise of duels of honor too, even if it didn't truly take hold until later. It's hard to pick. I think each period offers something. Something that's fun to look deeper into. Something that would be interesting to study."

Then that grin broadens a little and he lifts joined hands to press his lips to the back of her own. "Of course, I have found good cause to be much more intrigured by Roman history as of late..." he adds, eyes glinting merily once more.

Amara Aquilla has posed:
Amara's lips curve into a soft smile at the movie suggestion. She can already picture it -- him beside her on the couch, arm draped around her with that infectious enthusiasm of his. It's the little things that make her happiest, those quiet moments where they can just be themselves. "I think I'm looking forward to movie night," she says softly, her voice carrying a warmth that matches the smile she gives him. "Though, let's be honest, any excuse to spend time with you is a good one."

But then, he lifts their joined hands and presses a soft kiss to the back of hers. It's such a simple gesture, yet it still catches her off guard. Her breath hitches just slightly, and before she can stop it, a flush of heat spreads across her cheeks. She knows Kurt well enough by now to expect the flirtatious, gallant touches, but each one feels like a delightful surprise, like he's unraveling her defenses bit by bit. And then, of course, there's his sly comment about his newfound interest in Roman history. The blush deepens, creeping all the way to the tips of her ears.

For a moment, she's too flustered to respond, her mind racing as she searches for something witty to say in return. Her heart flutters in that way only Kurt seems to make it do, a mix of warmth, excitement, and the dizzying feeling of being completely caught off guard. She opens her mouth to speak, perhaps to make a playful retort, but the words catch in her throat, tangled in her lingering blush.

Before she can even gather herself, the crowd around them erupts into applause. Amara blinks, startled out of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized the show had ended. The birds, once so magnificent in the sky, have all returned to their handlers, and the audience is clapping in appreciation. She lets out a small laugh, the sound soft and self-conscious as she realizes how wrapped up she'd gotten in their conversation. It's as if the entire world faded away, leaving only the two of them in that moment.

Still blushing, she joins in with the applause, though her hands come together a little belatedly, her cheeks still warm. She glances at Kurt from the corner of her eye, a playful smile lingering on her lips as she claps along with the rest of the crowd. "Impressive and dangerous," she murmurs, echoing her earlier sentiment, but it's not the falcons she's talking about this time. It's the effect he has on her. Even in the midst of the show -- and though there had absolutely been moments of awe and joy as she watched -- it's Kurt who kept stealing her attention over and over.

"Come on, D'Artagnan. You owe me a duel," finally rising from that seat, though she never takes her hand out of his.