7985/Sonnets for the Arcane

Sonnets for the Arcane
Date of Scene:	26 September 2021
Location:	Bar With No Doors
Synopsis:	Drinking interruptus.
Cast of Characters:	Illyana Rasputina, Stephen Strange

---

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
What do wizards do in their time off?

Don't ask Magik for she is no wizard. Sorcerers get up to no good, however, without the moderating influence of a pointy hat. Just ask an assassin, who knows such facts and can confirm their wisdom.

"We are going out," is her announcement after entering the Sanctum Sanctorum, maybe like she owns the place. Does she? Of course not. Stephen Strange may passingly make that claim, but not the blonde Russian. "We will have drinks. It will be a date like people have sometimes, da? Except not at Olive Garden, even though that is very much a good date spot."

He might be cringing at the notion of a date, the setting, or the possibility she considers Olive Garden to be fine cuisine. There could be much worse to take into account from saying no, such as asking for better suggestions. One way or the other, though, she intends to haul him out from the better part of whatever the Doctor does on a Saturday night, other than save the world.

It counts, keeping her entertained?

Stephen Strange has posed:
"Olive Garden? Is that the quasi-Italian restaurant most frequently seen at shopping centers?"

It does seem that Stephen is at least familiar with the franchise. The fact that he is questioning it, however, is proof that he really hasn't been there before. A beat...then a comment. "A date, hmm? With drinks. Well, I am sure we could do better than the Olive Garden if we are considering going out." Note that Stephen said considering. Illyana has already decided that they are going out.

Obviously, Stephen is not quite realizing that he has little hope. They will be going out.

"If it is drinks you wish...then I know a place. And, the convenient part is that it is both out-of-the-way and highly assessible. If you wish, we could go there..."

There...is not stated specifically. But, that's part of the fun, though.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"We went there for Tabitha's birthday. We had all the soup we could eat, and the breadsticks, they are an addiction, da? Something terrible in the dough to make us eat so many," Illyana replies. She might be a little defensive of the place, but it holds a cherished position in her world.

Stephen knows of Olive Garden, then he shall be regaled of its breadstick delights. He probably ended up at some tony Italian restaurant in Little Italy or one that cost $500 a plate during his neurosurgery days or even now. It's not like the Demon Queen has a clue. "Da, we will have a date. Unless you want to stay in and subject yourself to date night here? My place? I should check in on it, now and then."

She is dressed for the night, at least in some degree, black leggings under a ballet dress pinned at the waist by a belt decorated in a thorn motif. That might be a tad macabre, if not for the dangling rose swaying lightly at her waist. See, there is an element to trying to dress up, even if it happens to be in her peculiarly Russian way. Or sensibilities that direly need help from, say, Ororo or Kitty. Oh well. "Show me," she says, not leaving any doubt for Stephen to proceed.

Surprises? Always welcome.

Stephen Strange has posed:
Surprises are fun. Well...most surprises.

This one should be at least moderately enjoyable. "I am not sure if I showed you the particular place in mind or not. But...if so, then we can always leave and see where we end up." That...is a particular way of saying things. But, hey, if Stephen is willing to go out...

A wave of the hand, and Stephen's ensemble shifts to a more sociable selection. Grey turtleneck with black jeans and a pair of comfortable shoes. Nothing dramatically flashy, but still good looking. One hand extends out to take Illyana's own...while the other spins in a rather familiar way.

Sparks fly in a circle, until a portal opens. And...beyond the portal, a Polynesian theme awaits. Tiki figures and palm leaves on full display. Certainly more colorful than the usual environs.

"After you, my dear."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Surprises can be fun. The kind involving vampires, not so much for the vampire, but always fun for her.

The patience required to discern what Stephen has in mind demands a little more of Illyana. She nonetheless looks down at herself and then up. Jeans, turtleneck, shoes. "Do I need to be less memorable?" she asks.

This proves to be unnecessarily, really, considering where the firefly portal leads. Sparks flash and she peers through, already baring her teeth a little in thoughtful regard. "These masks are familiar. They leer in such a way..."

After him? Old world manners acknowledged with an upnod, she steps through the portal and the wards slide over her skin, crashing back into place as they probably realize what kind of mystic they're dealing with: the dark one.

How... friendly. Effervescent.

She hisses at it.

Stephen Strange has posed:
A laugh escapes Stephen before he could stamp it down. A chuckle that speaks to his amusement as he catches the hissing. "Well, now. You did say you wanted drinks. Or did you have something more...monochromatic in mind?" He steps in closely afterwards, as the fireflies dissipate into nothingness, the formal and stern Sanctum disappearing, giving way to polynesian effaces. If one didn't know any better, the two could have easily teleported to the Tiki Room at one of the many Disney-owned resorts.

But...the wards they passed would say otherwise.

"Too colorful? Shall we find something more suitable? A dance hall, perhaps?" Dance hall? Stephen is showing his age...

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Colour is... what people like," Illyana chooses her phrasing carefully. "They see such excess as a good thing." Does she? The monochrome world of Russia is hardly real, not with the jewelled splendour of its Orthodox churches and the many sumptuous pieces of art squirrelled away in the Hermitage. Neither is Limbo free of colour, often lurid.

Her expression hardens as she faces a leering, grinning Polynesian mask almost as tall as she is. "Hmph." Shoulders lift and square, forcing her to address the spirit inside. "We come as guests, it is all well. You will not see me drink from a coconut."

Bullshit. Give her an hour, maybe.

"Let's sit. Bar? Table in the middle? Ceiling?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
Yes. Colour can be a good thing. The fact that Stephen even thought to come here means that he does do more than just study. Either that, or he has a wicked sense of humour. Either way, the two are here, and he is enjoying seeing a different side to Illyana. Just as long as she isn't too uncomfortable.

"Oh, but I was looking forward to seeing you drink from a coconut. Perhaps with a little umbrella on the side and a crazy straw? No?" Oh...yes, now that is definitely a tease.

Maybe he is enjoying the situation just a little too much.

"Bar. That will do. Unless, of course, you do not care for underwater antics. Then...the table will do nicely."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Dangerous drinks, and dangerous colours, no wonder he brought her here. Illyana nibbles on her lower lip, barely indenting it, for even showing that degree of contemplation could mean the gig is up. Better to keep the Doctor on his toes to his reaction.

"An umbrella and a plastic rapier with which to duel cherries. Or whatever other dangers show. Spiders of crystal, bats from a black hole?" she asides to him. Her eyes narrow slightly.

They have a mermaid's pool in here, after all, though neither of them are going for a dip. It's better to seek somewhere to sit, which she does after a moment. "I did not bring my tail. It will have to wait, da?"

Stephen Strange has posed:
Stephen Strange says, "Oh, you have a tail? I suppose I should see that sometime." Is Stephen calling Illyana's bluff? Maybe. For all anyone knows, he may be rather sincere.

But yes...perhaps it is best to not just jump into the deep end on the first visit. Or is the second? Who knows? "Yes, though. A place to sit would be ideal. " And....perhaps in consideration for the Russian at his side, Stephen finds a table that is not out in full light...but in a corner with at least a modicum of shadow for her to hide in. Not that there is much shadow in the place."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
A /tail/.

As a matter of fact, Illyana does. Her head lifted, she gives him a somewhat sharp look through pale lashes. The long sweep of her bangs hides most of her expression, the lift of her brows and the elongated smirk of those dark lips.

"You want to try that sometime, da? I wondered when you would ask. Thought maybe you needed two or three drinks, or would save it for a holiday when you could sleep in," she replies without so much preamble.

What was that about the deep end?

"Order something that glows, I will sit here and look dangerous." She drops into a chair, one leg crossed over the other. Maybe she can shrink the Soulsword down to be small enough to look like a rapier.