19372/Rien in the Rec Room
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Rien in the Rec Room | |
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Date of Scene: | 27 October 2024 |
Location: | 19372-Rec Room, Xaviers |
Synopsis: | Drinks and Portals oh my! Aisling get's taken on an adventure to her home nation thanks to Rien's portals. The ensuing bar chat ends with the two starting what may become a promissing friendship. |
Cast of Characters: | Rien D'Arqueness, Aisling Caroll
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- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien leans over the pool table, her gaze locked onto the final ball as it teeters near the pocket. The room, filled with the low hum of murmured conversations and the faint buzz of a video game on one of the big screens, seems to quiet as she draws her cue back. She smirks as she lines up the shot, a little wildness in her eye, and in one fluid motion, she strikes. The ball clacks against the edge, rolls once, and finally drops into the pocket with a satisfying thunk.
Standing up, she winks at her opponent, a younger mutant who's clearly trying to hide his disappointment as he hangs his stick back up. "No more?" she teases, feigning disbelief as she casually leans against the table's edge, crossing one boot over the other. "I'll even spot you three balls this time..."
The kid laughs, shaking his head. "Sorry, Rien. I've got to get to class." His tone is half-apologetic, half-relieved, like he's grateful to have an excuse to escape her casual mastery of the game. Rien rolls her eyes, but it's with an easy, understanding smile.
"Spoil sport," she sighs, a note of mock regret in her voice. But there's a warmth behind her words as she waves him off, the sort that only comes from someone who's spent years drifting through life, finding comfort in these stolen, fleeting moments of play.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"Indeed you do" says a very irish and feminine sounding accent from behind Rien. "Off ya pop me boyo" she adds, that lilt is all the way out front.
"Sure sure Miss Caroll" he adds with a wave and a nod as he heads out.
As Aisling moves in she can /feel/ that comfort and read everything it says about the other woman. She keeps her mouth shut though, it's not polite to just read people and spout off. Instead she steps forward and holds a hand out, "Aisling Caroll, New Nurse, pleasure" she adds smiling warmly as her mismatched eyes give Rien a good look over.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Xavier's isn't 'home' to Rien. It's a way-stop -- a cozy tavern along one of the 'old roads' where one can get a tankard of mead and sing stories about battles won and lost. A gathering of friends.
And of family.
Which doesn't make her any less sure of herself than she always is, of course. If anything, being among friends and family means that she's even more in her element than the way she normally spends her life -- as a vagrant who's purpose in life is to hunt down and banish demons. It's a messy job. A brutal job. A dangerous job. And it's made her who she is, for better or worse.
So when Rien turns to face the ginger, her blue eyes slide down and up again, her nose twitching faintly as she draws in a quick breath. Scenting the woman, and not at all displeased.. in the vaguely predatory way she has about her that lurks under that beauty, blonde hair surrounding high cheekbones. Her leather jacket has been tossed aside over a chair, a ruffled blouse cinched around her waist by a corset and left to drape just over the top of a pair of leather pants and heeled boots.
"Rien D'Arqueness," she answers smoothly, her French accent coloring every sound she makes. She reaches out to take that hand in hers, gentle but somehow at the same time firm, holding Aisling's gaze with a small, warm smile. "The pleasure is mine. Can I interest you in a game?"
She's still holding Aisling's hand. And it's not entirely clear that she means pool.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Aisling to her credit, is dressed as /professionally/ as one can be. From the white button up full sleeve blouse that is tucked in to black slacks. To the black boots that push her over six feet. Six one to be exact. She cuts a figure of a tall, athletic, and incredibly strong woman. Then there's the freckles, the auburn red hair, and those eyes... the impossibly blue one and the impossibly green one. Eyes that are staring and speaking volumes when they are aided by blushing cheeks.
"I uh..." cough, "Sure. What did you have in mind?" she adds looking down at her hand and back up to Rien. "Nice, to meet you Rien" she adds, almost forgot that one by the looks.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien, by contrast, is only 5'3". Petite, they call her, and if it weren't for the heels of her boots, she'd be an entire head shorter than the red-haired woman she's STILL holding the hand of -- not so firmly that Aisling couldn't pull it back if she wanted, more an intentional invitation to leave it right where it is. As it is, the top of Rein's slightly wild blonde hair -- not at all messy, but long and cascading in waves that might be best described as 'untamed' thanks to her Howlett blood -- comes up to about her nose.
A fact that's exaggerated when Rien takes a step closer.
"You accept and _then_ ask what game... you're a brave woman," Rien muses, her eyes sliding back down over Aisling shoulders, slipping down her arm to find their still joined hands and turning them just a little to make the contact more obvious. More deliberate than something forgotten and dismissed.
"Action ou Verite," she says smoothly, her eyes still on their hands, fingers curling to drag her nails slowly along the sensitive flesh of the other woman's wrist. That smile curls a little more. "The Americans call it.. Truth or Dare."
They're not alone in that rec room. There _are_ students gathered around, some of whom look up as Rien pushes just a little further into Aisling's personal space.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
When she takes a step closer, her feet plant and she holds her ground. It's a good fake, a decent attempt at hiding her nervousness. That is all it is though, a fake out, a bluff, a mask.
Though, the next statement, and the fact students are near by somehow sees some small measure of courge crawling up this diaster lesbians spine.
<"There, are, students, present.">
Brave, is an understatement. They don't call her Paladin for nothing. That and courage is not the absence of fear, but taking action inspite of it. Being an Empath also helps that she can sense Rien's feelings.
"Truth, but maybe we talk somewhere else?"
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"A ton gre, belle," Rien muses with a sly twist of one corner of her lips.
She lifts one hand, and the leather jacket hanging on the back of the chair springs into it as if yanked by a string. Folding the jacket over her arm, she snaps her fingers, and everything changes in the blink of an eye.
They're no longer standing in the rec room at Xavier's. Now, they're outside a tavern on a quiet street. A simple, hand-painted sign that reads 'The Harp & Thistle' hangs above the door, swinging slightly with the evening breeze and illuminated by a single wrought-iron lantern that casts a soft, golden light over the cobbled walkway. Ivy creeps along the stone walls, their leaves rustling faintly. The wooden door, weathered and carved with Celtic patterns, stands invitingly ajar, allowing the faint hum of laughter and music to drift into the night. Around it, the street is still, with only a hint of mist curling along the ground.
Rien, finally releasing Aisling's hand, takes a single step to the side and opens the wooden door for the taller woman.
Inside, dark wood paneling lines the walls, and beams crisscross the low ceiling, giving the place a snug, old-world charm. A few tables are scattered about, most of them empty save for a couple of patrons nursing pints near the bar. The bar itself is a sturdy, polished oak, its surface worn to a soft sheen from years of elbows and spilled drinks. Behind it, rows of bottles are displayed on narrow shelves, their labels faded and well-loved, each filled with rich whiskeys and deep amber ales.
The air is filled with the faint scent of peat smoke mixed with roasted barley, a warm, earthy aroma that lingers in the air. Soft, low Irish folk music plays from an unseen speaker, the gentle strum of a guitar and a lilting fiddle blending seamlessly with the occasional clink of glassware and low murmurs of conversation. A fireplace crackles at the far end, casting a cozy amber glow over the room. The place feels timeless, almost like stepping into a pocket of peace, removed from the bustle of the outside world.
"After you."
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Well, so, anyone in this brand new place is going to hear a woman scream at the top of her lungs. That woman of course being Aisling, as she not only screams but right after the /After You/ comes out, she steps back and starts looking around rather rapidly. If Rien knows what a panic attack is, this little stunt just sent Aisling in to one. Very, obviously, so.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
There are times when Rien either forgets or simply doesn't seem to have as much concern for other people's... fortitude. Jumping through portals -- sometimes to Hell -- and literally launching herself into the chest cavities of giant demons was, to her, another Tuesday. A quick teleport to a quiet pub in rural Ireland might as well be a spa day.
And yet, that's obviously not so for Aisling. There's a moment where Rien seems to write off the initial screaming as 'just what happens' when someone isn't used to being teleported -- she wasn't the only teleporter at Xavier's, even -- but when Aisling doesn't immediately settle down, when panic starts to take hold, Rien releases the door to take a step back wards her.
"You're okay... we're just in Ireland." 'Just,' she says, in the same exact way that someone might say, _we're just across the hall_. "You said you wanted to talk somewhere without students, I..."
There's a little nod of her head towards the tavern door as she holds both of her hands out, palm up. In offering? In sympathy?
"..I thought you might like a change of scenery."
There's sympathy radiating from her. Compassion. A little... disappointment, but it's not clear if it's directed inward or outward.
"I can take you back to the rec room, if you like."
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Meanwhile, the screaming apparently stirred some amount of interest from inside.
Even as Rien is standing there, practically pleading for Aisling to calm down, a burly man with ginger hair that looks vaguely intoxicated pushes open the door and looks at the two of them.
"Oi, now! What's all this racket, then?" he slurs slightly, his voice rich with a thick Irish lilt. "Ye two alright out here? Sounded like banshees wailin' from where I was sittin'! Bit late fer hollerin' in the streets, don't ye think?"
He gives them both a once-over. "Need a hand or a place t'catch yer breath, maybe?"
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Step one? Continue freaking out.
Step two? More freaking out, followed by... "Gods be bloody well good, /Just/ in Ireland? /JUST/ in Bloody Ireland?"
Step Three... what comes after step two? Oh, yet more freaking out. "I" inhale, "Did" exhale, "but" inhale, "did'na mean" exhale, "Half way round the planet!"
Step... Oh yeah, this would be four. Even more freaking out. Though, the hands offered, and easily read emotions that say, /She didn't mean to hurt ya girl/ causes Ais to start to calm down some as she takes the offered hands.
Step... aww, who cares. "No, no, it's..." inhale, exhale, holy crap that is NOT like Amy's portals at ALL. "It's, it's fine." Forced smile.
To the Irish man? "Ta me ceart go leor. Go raibh maith agat." With what ever she said, said, she waves him off with a faint smile. It's dissmissive, but nice dissmissive.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Well... yes."
Really, what else was Rien _supposed_ to say? They were _just_ in Ireland. It was, perhaps, a bit of an excessive use of power, but she hadn't felt any stirrings (other than Galactus's impending arrival and his herald's attempt to crash the moon into the Earth), she wasn't saving up for anything particularly taxing. She could afford a trip to Ireland and back.
Though, perhaps she should have asked first...
"I didn't mean to upset you..."
It would take more than the moon being shifted out of its orbit to shake Rien's confidence -- certainly more than mis-reading one woman's ability to handle the 'surprise' of being teleported to the other side of the world -- but in the place of that bald superiority, the comfort and knowledge that she could handle anything that was thrown at her, there is increasingly a softness... a gentleness that creeps in around the hopeful smile on her lips as Aisling starts to recover.
"I'll take you back whenever you like," she promises. "It wasn't my intention to hurt you. I am... sorry, I misread."
Finally an apology, even.
But then there's the shift of attention to the man that pokes his head out of the door, and Rien shifts her attention back to his response.
"Bi liom agus le mo chairde, mas maith leat," the Irish man offers with a more leering grin.
"She said she's fine. Not that she wanted company," Rien says, her whole body turning to face him more directly. "Go sit down. Before you hurt yourself."
So much for compassion. She had a temper about her, and nothing resembling fear.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Blink. Blink. Blink. "Well... yes? I..." deep exhale, gather yourself ais, she didn't mean it.
"I know, I know" she adds softly as she sqeeuzes the other womans hands. "I, appreciate that, thank you" she adds taking her hands back and giving herself a moment.
THen, there's a man being a man. To hells with it, she leans in and plants a kiss on Rien and then pulls back and smiles at him. "My girl and I were just having a spat at her choice of transit. If you'll excuse us?" Yeah, she just did that. Holy shit she just did that. Welp, the blush is going to be bright red and ovbious. Way to light up the place aisling you walking disaster of a lesbian you.
<"I am SO sorry.">
<"Also, I forgive you, it's okay.">
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien's quiet during that moment Aisling takes to steady herself, just holding her hands and returning the little squeeze with an easy smile on her lips.
Hope. Hope that Aisling will actually be okay. Their initial meeting had been so... promising, and Rien would by lying if she said that things like this weren't, to some extent, a test -- a compatibility test, if even purely for friendship. Being close to her often means a kind of constant trial-by-fire, and over the hundred-and-twenty-or-so years she's been alive, she's learned it's best to keep those with weak constitutions at arm's length.
It's not their fault. She doesn't begrudge them that. But it does often mean that they're in more danger just for being near to --
Whatever the end of that thought might have been is abruptly silenced by Aisling leaning in, and as if on instinct, she's tilting her chin up, returning that kiss with an approving glint in her eyes.
The man? He's forgotten. Which is just as well, because though he spent another few seconds _gawking_ at them, he does finally clear his throat and give a resigned, "Aye," before going back inside.
Which leaves Rien standing there, looking up at the redhead with a renewed spark of interest and an smiled curl of her lips.
"Shall we call it even, then?" she asks in that thick French purr, but there's laughter in her voice. Perhaps 'even' would be a stretch, given that Rien seems to think she came out ahead in both cases. "Would you.. like to go in for a drink?"
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
If a blushing face this bright could be measured, hers would power a small city. Not to mention the absent mindedness of the finger the rises up to start playing with her hair. Twirling it around in little circles. "I..." cough, "Don't normally do" pause, "That."
Aisling inhales and exhales and despite looking like she's hot enough to melt metal ala Anime Protag Blush, she forces a smile and nods. "Even" nod, "Yes, even, that's good with me."
"Oh umm, sure..." Time for drinks then.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Kiss? Embrasser? Pog?"
After rattling through the English, French, and Irish forms of the same verb, that smile on Rien settles into something more playfully taunting.
"You really should try it more. It's quite enjoyable, with the right partner."
There's no shame. No embarrassment. No self-consciousness at all from the petite blonde, who seems, if anything, to be warmed by Aisling's naivety -- or at least her shyness.
Once more, Rien moves to the door, drawing it open and gesturing inside -- to an old-world style pub with only a few visitors, lots of tables, and a short bar.
"After you, ma cherie," she offers once more.
That man from earlier and his friends are at a table in the corner, and they all look up when the door opens again, but none of them say anything. Not except to each other -- and there's a lot said to each other in whispered words, laughter, and slaps of the table. Maybe it's about the two women. Maybe it's not. Either way, it doesn't seem to phase Rien in the least.
"Shall we sit at the bar?"
Faster drinks that way. Farther from the group in the corner. And the added benefit of sitting side-by-side instead of across a table.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"I uh, well, just randomly kissing a stranger to get a creepy dude to leave me alone. It's not something I normally do, or have had to do, in a long time. Doesn't always work, at least not on the streets I was living on, anyway..." she trails off and then snaps her attention back at the /try it more/ comment. "I, well, I have a partner..." pause, break, "we're not, exclusive or anything. Far as I know."
Social Anxeity. That thing what happens when you have a lot of experience being alone or a shut in.
"Oh, okay.." and in she walks, mist matched eyes glaring at the men at the table. "Sure..." she says, her attention not really on Rien at the moment. The way she tenses is like a spring coiling. Something that Rein, being the type of fighter she is, can see plain as day.
Aisling, is a Fighter, as well.
Though, as they go back to chinwagging with each other she relaxes and heads to the bar. "Aye, drinks are faster."
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Oui. I suppose it depends on the quality man, c'est vrai?" Rien muses, still watching Aisling with that warm yet amused smile on her lips. "I've found many Irishmen, especially here at this establishment, have barks far worse than their bite."
But then there's the mention of the partner, and Rien's sensual chuckle rises out of her throat warmly.
"I will keep that in mind," she says warmly, voice seeming to float airily along as she follows Aisling in, "and I won't tell a soul that you found me so irresistible that you simply couldn't help yourself..."
Oh, she's laying it on thick, now.. as if Aisling wasn't blushing enough as it is? Now, Rien seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself, but somehow not at all truly at the other woman's expense. There's something so warm and inviting, like she just wants Aisling to relax and play along with her, to laugh a little.
And as Aisling tenses up, watching the table, she'll feel Rien's hand slide gently down her spine to the small of her back, coaxing her ever-so-gently forward. "Leave them, ma cherie," she whispers gently. "Men will be men, wherever you go, but you are absolutely safe. You have my word."
And, with Aisling being a telepath, that word comes with absolute confidence. It's not an empty promise. There is nothing that Rien can see in the bar and nothing that she can see realistically happening that she couldn't protect Aisling from.
"So, back in the rec room, you chose truth... why are you a nurse?"
And as she arrives at the bar, she withdraws a stool for Aisling, then takes one for herself, sliding one thigh across the other.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"I, it was just a way to get them to leave us alone! Honest!" Yeah, sure Ais, real smooth that one. Not like you're a walking natural disaster when it comes to women. "But uh, yeah, thanks..." she adds as she moves to sit at the bar. She raises a finger and orders, "Jack and Coke, straight fifty fifty."
Playing along might not be something Ais can do, she'd have not to be utterly oblivious in the first place. Happens when you're intentionally walling your powers off with someone you don't want to read. "Oh, umm, because I can heal people and as an empath and telepath" she adds tapping her temples, "I can read pain, emotional responses, as well as phyiscal body responses and pinpoint damage." She exhales, "That, and no one was ever my hero when I needed them, so I want to be someone elses."
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Ahhh... _that_ is the truth," Rien points out at the very end. "You have the power... I don't doubt that. But the _why_ isn't because you have the power. You're a nurse because you choose to be."
The blonde is thought for a moment before she looks back to the bartender and smiles, "Redbreast Fifteen and a rocks glass. Leave the bottle."
And finally those blue eyes are back on the redhead beside her, eyeing her appraisingly again -- the tension that never seems really to relax. Here, some might say that they're sorry that no one was there for Aisling. Some might offer some other kind of sympathy or empathy.
"It's noble, wanting to be the hero. But it can be a lonely life, and it requires a certain... boldness that not everyone has."
Is that a judgement? Or just a casual observation?
"It's my turn," she says, then, smiling. "Ask me a question. Anything you want to know."
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Aisling nods, "I do. Afterall, if I have the power to good and I choose not to? What am I then?" she replies rather plainly as a hand reaches out to grab the ice cold glass of jack and coke she gets served. Joys of ordering first.
"I lost my entire family at Eight. I spent my childhood in abusive foster homes, save one. I have spent the last several years of my life homless." The look she shoots with her mistmatched blue and greens, is full of determination. Full of fire. "All I've known is being alone. So, trust me, I can handle it" she adds taking a sip.
Sip number two, "Who are you?" it's the single most basic question in the world.
"Really" though the addtional modifier makes it the single hardest for a lot of people. Who are you? Really? She asks because she wants to know.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Merci," Rien offers softly when both the bottle and her own, empty glass are set down a few moments later, still listening to Aisling as she pours herself her first glass.
"Ahhh. Alone. That, I understand. And to that, I will drink."
She lifts her glass, the amber liquid sloshing a bit as she offers it towards Aisling in toast. "A ta sante."
Then she brings that glass back to her lips, tilts it up, and drains it. It was only about half-full -- easier to handle without spilling -- but it was straight Irish whiskey, and she shows only the faintest hint of it even burning as it slides down her throat, merely wiping at the corners of her mouth with the pad of her thumb.
"Nothing."
It's answered so easily, even after that 'really.' And as if expecting Aisling to protest, she even waits a moment before smiling again.
"Really. I wasn't even given a name. Just called Rien. Nothing. All I had," past tense, "was purpose. One, single purpose that I was brought into existence for -- and it wasn't even for this world."
She shrugs one shoulder lazily, like it was no big deal.
"My mother was a witch. And my father..."
Her eyes trail off as that smile softens. She loves her father.
"Well..."
One hand lifts, forming a fist, and abruptly three bone-claws almost the length of her forearm spring forward between her knuckles, but each of glow faintly, mystically blue. There's a suddenly startled reaction from the men in the corner, but none from the bartender, who wanders over and leans on the counter beside them for a moment.
"Rien, ye' know the lasses don't like it when you jus' whip it out," he tells her, amused.
"Perhaps yours just isn't impressive enough," Rien counters, tipping her glass towards him in a toast as she draws those claws back in, the wounds they left behind healing very nearly instantly.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"Yeah, alone, most of my life" she adds as she lifts her drink in reply and takes another sip. "Slainte" she adds in reply toast. A tradtional Irish one to boot.
""Your name, means, nothing?" that, that takes her off guard. "That is, heartbreaking and I am sorry. Have you thought of changing it?"
The claws get a look, she's tet Logan, so, that's a pretty easy click there. "Oh..." she just replies and nods.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Oh comes the response from Aisling, and the bartender makes a little motion with his hand in front of Rien, like 'See?'
"Don't you have a counter to wipe down or some glasses to clean again, Bryne? You could at least give us the _appearance_ of privacy," Rien sighs, flicking her fingers away to 'shoo' him off and then taking the bottle to re-fill her glass once she's moving.
With her attention back on Aisling, Rien gives a little shake of her head that moves blonde hair around the shoulders of her blouse.
"It is who I am. It is _what_ I am. I don't begrudge my name. I am my family's payment for an act that was committed in desperation, but my task is done. It is behind me. Now I grow, and adapt, and find new purpose."
She tilts her glass slightly towards Aisling, the amber liquid shifting in the glass.
"As do you."
A sly smile curls her lips as she brings that glass back to her lips and tilts her head back, draining the entire contents again.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Aisling just watches her and Bryne the Barkeep talk and she can't help but let out a light giggle as she takes another sip.
"Like me?" the confusion on her face is easily readable. As is the slight backwards lean she takes. That sorta body language that screams you might as well have just smacked her. "Pfft, I'm an orphan with no family, and no real education. I can help people, and I try to, but I don't even know who /I/ am." She slowly lifts her glass and swirls the rest of it around slowly. Staring in to it like she's staring in to the abyss before she just downs it and sits the glass down.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien sets the glass gently down on the bar. It's not the hard-slam of some heavy drinkers that are suffering the burn of the alcohol down their throats and need some way to either release the intensity of it or celebrate their victory over the drink.
It's a gentle thing. If not dainty than at least... polite.
"Oui, chere. Like you," the blonde woman answers with a little roll of one shoulder.
But then there's that list of... what? Reasons they're different? There's warmth in Rien's eyes -- and the general, emotional sense about her -- as she tilts her head.
"And which of those things do you believe makes us different?"
She raises one hand slightly.
"To be clear, I've lived a hundred and twenty-four years. For most of that time, Logan had no idea who I was. I was raised by my clan -- trained to fight demons. A rigorous routine which started at five years old. So while, yes, I knew my mother... to assume that I had a traditional childhood would be a mistake."
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
Aisling shifts slightly so she can lock her mismatched eyes on Rien. The smile that forms on her face seems to allude to something else. Something like, /Maybe I've found someone like me finally?/
"Honestly, none of it" she replies sighing, "Just habit I suppose. I don't particularly like myself all that much. Or see that I bring much if any real value to the world."
"That, doesn't sound like a normal childhood at all, no" she adds shaking her head. "It's hard to believe, but I think I might have actually finally found someone that really is capable of getting me" the slight head dip and motion with her nose saying, /You./
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien pours herself another glass and sets the bottle aside, then reaches out to set her hand gently on top of Aisling's. It's warm. Like... really warm. Her metabolism must be incredible, because for having downed two rocks glasses of straight Irish whiskey, there's not a hint of that common fog of intoxication in her eyes.
That combined with the way those wounds in her knuckles healed themselves instantly is more than enough evidence that there is a _lot_ going on inside this woman, to say nothing of her ability to teleport across the world on a whim.
"Aisling," she finally uses the woman's name instead of a more generic endearment -- and for those paying close attention, they might notice that those casual uses of 'chere' and 'ma cherie' might just be her way of keeping people at arm's length. "You bring value to the world -- and to the people around you -- by existing. You bring warmth. And kindness. You may not like yourself, but I think that's a shame. I like you, and after all this time, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character."
Her smile quirks a little more -- a hopefully little ray of optimism.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
There's a lot going on inside Aisling as well. A lot behind her blue and green eyes. She looks down at the hand and back up and smiles warmly. She does take a moment to watch that healing factor kick in, she'll have to mention her own later.
What comes next though, seems to hit home. She can't help but just sit and listen to what Rien says, and it hits so much a little silver river starts to run down her cheeks.
"I, thank you..." she adds with a return smile so bright it could light up the night sky.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Je t'en prie." The words float from Rien's mouth with such softness, but that smile quirks a little more when she realizes she may not be entirely understood. "You're welcome."
The hand on Aisling's lingers just a moment longer before lifting, stretching up to the other woman's cheek, and using the pad of her thumb to gently brush at the trail left behind by that tear.
"Now let's drink. And talk about the things you do enjoy. Grands dieux non Bryne discovers I have a soft side. My reputation might be ruined forever. Do you know how hard I've worked to make him just a little afraid of me?"
Her blue eyes shine with mirth a she draws her hand back to her glass, lifting it in front of her.
"So tell me about Aisling now. What do you know you like? What do you want to try? We all have those things that make our heart flutter when we picture them, oui?"
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"Oh, I can imagine" she replies, her top lift turning upward in a smirk. A light giggle following shortly there after. "You're /very/ scary" she adds with a sage nod of acknowledgement. "Very scary indeed."
"Oh me? Umm, well, we share some things in common" pause, beat, "though my ability to heal is about a tenth the speed of yours. It also still hurts like hell..." she adds and she means that. Something that Rien might share with her?
"Outside that, in terms of what I like?" She pauses her to tap a finger on her lips before focusing back on Rien. "I love to ride. I can sing, dance, play three instruments, and I love martial arts and gymnastics."
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien laughs, the sound so rich and... genuine. Not the appeasing or condescending laugh that might one day be heard from her at a social gathering, but light and true. A sound of actual enjoyment that reaches all the way up through her lips and into her eyes.
"Touche," she muses as she brings that glass up for a smaller drink, this time, settling in to listen with interest.
Gone is that overly forward and false familiarity, replaced instead with sincerity in her expression and her posture. She seems more relaxed, not leaning in as much like a predator waiting for an opportunity, but like a friend -- a new friend -- who wants nothing more than a sincere connection.
"Oooh. Are you in a band?" Rien asks, a renewed, exaggerated spark of that earlier 'interest' widening her eyes, though it seems to be there entirely to tease -- you know how women can be about lead guitarists and singers.
But wait. There's more.
"And what do you like to ride? Horses? Motorcycles?... Men?"
And from down the bar a little ways, the barkeep suddenly coughs.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
The smirk that draws across her lips screams, /hahaha, I win./ The touche she gets showing that yes, in fact, score one for her. She also reaches out to grab some of that whiskey and pours herself some.
At the same turn, also gone is Aisling's social anxeity. It to, also replaced by her just being happy and joyful. The kind of joy that just radiates the warmth of a cloudless summers day.
"I, ya know, I'm not" pause, "I should think about that! Though I play the flute, the guitar, and the piano" yeah, all three. She also leans in forward, the familiarity of it would make anyone think they were already dating, or really old friends.
Then, there's the spit take as she's in the middle of taking a drink. "Men? Fuck that" she adds rather plainly. "Motorcycles for one, and for two, I like women."
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Might be a good way to blow off steam. I'd come watch you play... I'll be your very first groupie," Rien muses, laughter still lingering in her eyes.
It's the spit-take that has Rien actively laughing again, thoroughly amused by her ability to still provoke a reaction from the red-haired woman, even after everything they've shared about each other.
"Ahhhh. Two more things we have in common." That French accent is so rich and fluid, casual, coloring every movement of her mouth and her tongue within. "Though I'm admittedly less... confined to those choices. What do they say? Variety is the spice of life."
Which likely says a lot about Rien all at once. She was never looking for anything serious. In fact, she hadn't really gotten 'serious' within their conversation until she spoke Aisling's name, and now it seems more to be about the sincerity of companionship than any quest for 'variety' in her life.
"But I didn't start riding until later in life, so I have a lot of time to make up for."
She's talking about motorcycles, right?
But that slow smile tugs at her lips even as she brings her glass up for another sip.
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"I'd like that" Aisling replies adding yet another smirk to the tapestry of facial expressions. A light giggle escaping her lips shortly there after as she takes a sip of her drink in turn.
"Two more?" blink, blink, blink, "wait, so, but less confined huh?" Her head tilts like a little lost puppy dog. Aisling on the other hand, wants real, deep, meaingfull connections.
"You uh, motorcycles yes?" she does ask it, because well, might as well.
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Two more?
"Don't tell me you're surprised I like motorcycles," Rien teases, the playful humor still alive in her eyes.
She rolls her shoulder in a shrug when Aisling questions her desire for variety, though, lazily tilting her glass in a way that just manages to not spill any over the rim. Everyone had their own goals, desires, and preferences. Hers... did not involve stability. They had never involved stability.
You uh, motorcycles yes?
"Those too." It seems to be far too hard for Rien to resist trying to make Aisling blush.
"So why Xavier's? Are you... looking for a place to fit in? I know the world isn't exactly a welcoming place."
- Aisling Caroll has posed:
"No, not even remotely" she adds laughing. "Just, the other thing" might as well toss that out there to. "I am yes, though, speaking of.." pause beat, "I think I should be getting back there. I am the new school nurse and you did just sorta, snacth me." The last part is said as matter fo factly as one can.
"Though, I want to meet again and talk more, can we, do that?"
- Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Speaking of...
"Ahhh, oui, say no more. I would love to, and I'll make sure you have a way to reach me... I wouldn't want to miss your first gig, after all."
Rien smiles, then finishes that last bit of whiskey in her glass, sliding it and the bottle back across the counter.
"Bryne, cher, you'll put this on my tab, oui?"
The barkeep wanders back over to collect the bottle as the blonde-haired woman is standing. "D'ye expect ye'll ever be payin' that tab, Rien?"
But Rien puts on a little pout. "Bryne, you wound me. Are you trying to get rid of me? If I didn't owe you, what reason would I have to keep coming back?"
Which is not at all how that's supposed to work, and yet the barkeep just rolls his eyes and seems to accept it, leaving Rien smiling in his wake.
"Shall we?" she offers to Aisling, one hand moving towards the other woman's back to offer her the lead to the door. And once they're outside? Well, at least this time, Rien pauses for just a second, looking at her companion warmly. "Ready?"
Then, with a snap of her fingers and a flash of light, they're standing right back in the rec room of Xavier's where they were a few moments before. And the students? Well, a few of them look up. But, let's face it, it's Xavier's. Students did way worse than teleport around this place, and Aisling and Rien weren't even students. Soon enough, they're back to whatever else they were doing.