8687/Dinner with Mystique

Dinner with Mystique
Date of Scene:	15 November 2021
Location:	Mystique's Quarters
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Raven Darkholme, Azazel, Laxmi Mallick, Lydia Dietrich, Clarice Ferguson

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Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique has rearranged a few things in the room to allow the presence of a cooking unit against the wall. She could have it there all the time, but really it made little sense and it was far easier to just put it there when needed. The weapons displays were far more important.

Instead of the comfortable chairs an oak dining table has been set up, along with four comfortable chairs around it. A small fridge holds water and soda, but the bar is always open and ready for drinks. In fact, Mystique is drinking one of her usual whiskey with grenadine syrup as she makes Kartoffelkloesse (Potato Dumplings) and Schnitzel, though she is using chicken instead of beef or pork. There are a couple of German beers available as well, because why not? On the table to much while waiting are hand made pretzels, and two kinds of cheese spread. One make with German beer, the other more American with out alcohol.

Azazel has posed:
    Azazel bamfed into the central nexus to be polite, as the smell of brimstone can put people off their food. He then makes his way down the hall to knock on Mystique's door. Upon it's opening it can be seen that he's in his normal impeccable black suit with dark red shirt and a black tie. "Good evening, a pleasure to see you all again."

    He gives Mystique a quick kiss on the cheek, then moves into the quarters. A quick sniff of the air and he chuckles, "So, a return to your roots, is it? Should be quite nice."

Laxmi Mallick has posed:
    Clarice is right on time - arriving in her white dress with silver-hued accents, and a simple pendant on a silver chain that gleams with diamonds which may or may not be the real deal. She arrives just after Azazel steps into the room - flashing Mystique a broad smile of greeting. "Smells good, boss. Azazel - pleasure to see you again. No trips to hell this time, I hope? I'd rather not ruin the dress."
    Not like she couldn't afford another - but it's the principal of the matter.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia has stayed away from the makeshift kitchen in their quarters, giving Mystique room to work while she was cooking up dinner. (Of course she would pop in from time to time to sample the cheese spread and to sneak a kiss.) Once her phone dinged that everything was ready, she made her way in, prepared herself a Manhattan which she would nurse for the night, and savor the rich scents of the dinner.

She spent most of the time away in a quiet spot in the garden, centering herself to put her beast in a trance. It was easier the second time around, but she still found that everything had to be relatively calm in order for it to take.

Lydia is dressed elegantly, wearing a black evening dress that hugs her waist. Around her neck is a pendant in the shape of an ankh with a moonstone scarab set within. Her ears are adorned with diamond danglies and on her right is a silver earcuff.

When Azazel arrives, she tenses, expecting to have to battle the beast's jealousy that comes up whenever he's around, but relaxes when it doesn't rear its ugly head. "Good evening, Azazel," she says pleasantly enough. "It was something of a surprise when Raven offered to cook. I'm the one who's usually doing the cooking."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique is wearing a nice dress, nothing fancy mind you, in a dark blue. Matching her skin tone was a pain in the ass, and she loathed most colors. If she had her way she'd be naked, but one does not serve dinner in just an apron... unless it's /that/ kind of dinner. Her feet are bare because fuck shoes.

"Evening Azazel," she offers as she lets him in, returning the kiss to his cheek before moving back to the stove. "Evening Clarice," she then says without turning, hearing her enter.

"There are pretzels on the table, blue bowl cheese has alcohol," that is offered for Lydia's sake. She's still learning what she can and can't have. "I decided to whip out my domestic skills, been a while and I had a craving." She wouldn't go into the fact that the craving started the day she told Kurt who she was.

"Bar's open," she points then turns to look at everyone. "Thanks for deciding to come."

Azazel has posed:
    Once the greetings are done, he moves over to the table, waiting for the ladies to sit before doing so himself. "Well, given the cuisine, I think I'll go with the flow and go with a beer rather than wine tonight."

    Once everyone (excepting perhaps Mystique, who's busy at the cooking unit) has seated themselves, he sits down. He takes a pretzel and some of the cheese dip. "It looks like you haven't lost your touch, my dear. It smells a little like Oktoberfest in here tonight."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Well. It's nice to have a friendly little family dinner," Clarice remarks - giving Lydia a brief, one-armed hug, and letting one hand rest on Mystique's arm for a moment - she doesn't want to interrupt her cooking after all. "Practicing for a bigger, Thanksgiving feast?" she suggests. "We can invite everyone. ...or at least Theo and Pete."
    She slips into one of the available seats and tears a pretzel in half - curiously dipping one half into each of the two sauces.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia looks at the pretzels and cheese spread a little sadly. One of the things she misses about being alive is being hungry for food. Sure she kind of gets that way around blood but it's not the same thing. That kind of hunger is deep and primal and is mostly a solitary affair, whereas the human kind of hunger is part of a social event.

That and human things don't smell /delicious/ anymore. Sure they smell good, and she can enjoy the scents and the tastes of things, but they're disconnected from the stomach now and it's more of an aesthetic pleasure, like one viewing a beautiful piece of art in the Guggenheim. All this to say that she takes a pretzel, breaks it in half to dip in the cheese sauce and nibble on it.

"This cheese sauce is very good," she says, giving Mystique a smile. "You should cook more often. You're rather good at it. Chanukah is coming up not soon after. I figure I could cook you all a dinner and give you a little taste of some traditional Jewish cooking."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
It isn't much longer before Mystique is putting the items onto platters and carrying them to the table. There are a couple of types of gravy, nothing fancy in them, as potato dumplings and schnitzel can be boring without them.

"Thanksgiving is an American thing," she comments as she sets the platters in the center of the table where everyone can reach. "But yes, I can cook a turkey, with stuffing."

With everything on the table, Mystique makes a final check then sits down between Azazel and Lydia, safer that way. "I'd like that Lydia," she comments with a smile. "I remember your mother's dish that I almost got to eat before she dove off the deep end into denialville." A gesture, "Go one, serve up and eat. I don't do ceremony beyond, 'look, I cooked'. Eat."

Azazel has posed:
    Chuckling at Mystique's brusque invitation to start the meal, Azazel spoons a little of everything onto his plate and takes a bite before nodding with a smile. "You haven't lost your touch, this is very good. Apparently all that time on the run hasn't eroded your cooking skills." He takes another bite then looks over at Lydia, asking "So, since this is a get to know each other type of thing, how would you like to proceed?" He takes another bite, sitting back a little in his chair and relaxing.

    "For some reason, I haven't really done a lot of casual socialization. I've always been fairly busy when I was in this world before - limited time, you understand. And you do _not_ want to host dinners in hell. There are so few manners down there, it's quite shocking."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    That was all the invitation Clarice needed to dig in, certainly, a grin on her features as she samples each thing in front of her. "This is good," she agrees with Azazel. Cooking might as well be alchemy to her. She had a few, vague memories of her parents cooking when she was little - but that was it. She couldn't really recall trying her hand at it, herself.
    As Azazel addresses Lydia, though, her gaze flicks curiously between the pair, remaining silent as she lets Lydia kick off the conversation.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia lets out a sigh, as she takes a sample of everything. "I haven't really talked to my parents since then," she says. "My dad checks up on me, and I spoke to my mother once. I think she's gotten over the gay part of it, but she's still hung up on the 'dating a known terrorist' part, and things have gotten so hectic lately...." She scowls as she realizes she's just making excuses at this point.

She makes a couple of puddles of each type of gravy so she can dunk her schnitzel and dumplings in. The topic of Hell leaves her a bit uncomfortable, actually. Jews never really believed in Hell. Not like Christians do, and to have it be proven so flagrantly /wrong/ is another chink in her faith.

"How did you and Raven meet?" she asks curiously, trying hard not to think about the particulars of Azazel's employment. "Since you're only on Earth for a limited amount of time, you couldn't have had all that much time to romance her."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique takes a bit of each, including a pretzel. She's already eaten to of the soft pretzels, but when you have a favorite... this new one however, is dipped in the gravy, she's such a heathen.

"I don't get to cook much these days," she comments. "But thank you, nice to know I haven't lost my touch."

As the topic turns to Lydia's parents she adds, "I text your dad from time to time," but leaves it at that. Lydia's mother was a nightmare but she was not going to say that or imply that. And then the topic goes to how she meet Azazel.

"I honestly think I'd be better to answer that one," she comments, taking a sip of her drink. "I was trying to get pregnant for the Baron, and Azazel was too hot to pass up. Even when he slips into something a little more human, he's a hottie," she wiggles her brows at him, then looks to Lydia. "The relationship developed after that to be honest. I kept seeing him, we learned the truth about each other, me mutant, him devil... and we fell in love."

Azazel has posed:
    With a soft chuckle, Azazel adds, "Now now, you know very well I'm a mutant as well. I just happen to have both a knack and plenty of time to study sorcery. I suppose being the inspiration for the modern view of Satan clouds things a bit as well." He takes a sip of his beer, then shrugs a little. "It's been useful to be the Devil, for some reason people up here kept summoning me. You would think they'd learn from previous people's mistakes, but I guess that's human nature."

    He takes another bite, then continues "I may not actually be a demon, but souls are still useful as both currency and power when you have the magic that can collect them instead of letting them go on to whatever afterlife they expected. It only works on those who have agreed to it, so you need not worry about anything like that from me."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "So the 'thousands of years old' thing wasn't just a line?" Clarice asks. "Are there any other mutants as old - still rattling around the globe?" she asks in a casual tone. She nibbles some more of her food, fixing Azazel with a curious look.
    Surely she wasn't fishing for information at Mystique's friendly little family dinner?
    Nah.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
Lydia nods at Mystique, her face a schooled mask of pleasantness as she takes a sip of her Manhattan. "I remember, but I'd like to hear Azazel's side of things, too." She cuts off a bit of the schnitzel and dips it in one of the gravy puddles, and pops it in her mouth, rolling it across her tongue to savor its flavor.

Azazel must have read some of Lydia's distaste for his profession. A soul is a sacred thing and shouldn't be used as a bargaining chip. "If you're not actually a demon," she ventures, "how do they keep summoning you?"

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Another larger drink is taken as Mystique nibbles at her pretzel. There was obviously tension in the room, it was just hidden behind the schnitzel and gravy. She knew all about Azazel and the numerous levels of hell, and not one of them matched the Christian hell really, so there was no risk to religions, but she wasn't going to say any of that. Instead she stands to go and collect herself one of the German beers and give Azazel the chance to explain his side. She knew it of course, had known it after getting to know him, it changed nothing of her view of him.

"Anyone else like a beer?" she asks while at the fridge, just to be nice.

Azazel has posed:
    Azazel nods at Clarice's question, "There are, at least one that's even older than I am." He chuckles, "It's hard for some people to comprehend that kind of existence, watching the years go by and people aging as you grow no older. It effects any of us who watch it happen in different ways. It's hard to make many strong relationships when most people are so ephemeral - there one moment and gone the next."

    "There have been some who were worth the time, however. Young Alexander and I actually became close friends, to my surprise. But then, he had a hunger for conquest and power, so we had some similar goals." He pauses here, eyes going distant for a moment before returning to the here and now. "A pity he died so young, we still had such wonderful plans."

    Turning his attention to Lydia, he replies "My followers and I were banished to the Brimstone Dimension by a group of angelic mutants called the Chayaraphem. Apparently whatever magic they used was imperfect, as it allowed us to be summoned forth. Also, my powers are such that I could overcome the banishment and come to Earth on my own, but it always dragged me back after a short time."

    He looks over at Mystique, "It was on one such trip I met Raven. You see, I had discovered through various means that if I had children on Earth who would perform a ritual, I could be brought back permanently. So I spent as much time as I could siring children." He smiles a little, "With Raven, I found more than another woman to bear my child however, as she said, we fell in love. Unfortunately, the banishment eventually pulled me back as it always did."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I'll take a beer," Clarice remarks. It's not her favorite drink - but she's sat with Mister Creed to enjoy a cold one on many occassions.
    "Who's older than you?" she asks curiously, before lapsing into silence to hear the rest of Azazel's story. "...one of your children finally did the correct ritual, then?" she asks. "That's why you're here now?"

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"It's the kind of existence I have to look forward to. People like us," she says nodding to Azazel and Mystique, "won't ever have the luxury of having a peaceful end. For us the end will come violently." Obviously this is something that she'd been thinking about and has weighed heavy in her heart.

She dourly pushes a piece of dumpling around, as if she needed something to do with her hands. "So now that you're up here for an extended period of time," she eventually asks, "what kind of plans do you have?" She looks up from her plate over to the red hued mutant, "Still trying to sire as many children as possible, or has that gone by the wayside now?"

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Collecting a beer for Clarice as well, Mystique moves back to the table and sits down. The beer is offered over and her own opened. Lydia asked the same question she had, but the cobalt mutant was wondering if Azazel would answer honestly, most likely he would as he had nothing to hide.

"I made German Rum Balls for dessert," she says for no reason at all, then goes back to eating her pretzel. "Children aren't the only reason Azazel is around, they are merely a way for him to escape Brimstone when the Chayaraphem get all uppity, they do that a lot."

She finally takes her fork and knife to cut a piece of the schnitzel off, dabbed into gravy and eaten.

Azazel has posed:
    With a laugh, he says "Plans? Why, none at all for a change. It's actually rather pleasant to be able to take a break from all the plotting and scheming. Currently, I plan on perhaps buying a little island in the Caribbean, building a ludicrously oversized house and living in the lap of luxury for a bit. It will be a nice change from being surrounded by jagged rocks and the smell of sulphur."

    "As for the children, no, I have no need for them any more. They finally served their purpose, as there were two of them in the group that summoned me this time. I had them make sure the summoning was flawed and called me with no limits put on me so it would be permanent." He considers and then continues, "I'll have to set them up some sort of reward, I think."

    To Clarice he then replies, "Well, several of my followers are as old as I am, though they are all still trapped by the banishment. The only one I know for certain is En Sabah Nur, but I lost track of him about five hundred years ago. I imagine he's still around somewhere, I think I would have heard if someone had killed him."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    ...if Azazel just happens to buy //her// island and starts building on it - she will be so annoyed, but all Clarice shows at the talk of Caribbean islands is a flicker of interest, as she taps the bottle top of her beer. It blinks away in a brief flicker of purple energy.
    She takes a sip as he talks of his children, lowering it and cutting some of her schnitzel as she asks in the most casual tone she can manage, "En Sabah Nur?"

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique stares at Clarice a moment, then under the table kicks Clarice in the shin so she is certain the magenta mutants sees the warning stare. "Not... now," she then warns and goes back to eating.

Lydia Dietrich has posed:
"I would imagine so," Lydia says with a small smile at Azazel's grand scheme of taking it easy for a while. "You've mentioned that you have followers before, how many do you have? And they're all stuck in hell?"

Lydia's been aware of what Clarice has been up to all this time, but didn't want to interrupt. However, she can hear Mystique kick her under the table and she has to suppress a grin.

"How old /are/ you, by the way?" She asks their guest. "I know somebody who's about thirty five hundred years old and that's just kind of staggering to me."

Raven Darkholme has posed:
Mystique just keeps staring at Clarice while eating. She let the woman get in a few questions, poke around a little, but tonight was about Lydia's questions. She's arrange for Azazel to be 'drilled' by Clarice another night over Chinese food or something. Sometimes, just sometimes, she really wanted to punch things.

"He's definitely a cradle robber," she states in regards to Azazel's age, but she is grinning broadly as she says it. "That sounded wrong... really wrong, after the whole 'children for escaping' conversation, but I'm a Cougar, so that should put it back into perspective, right?"

Azazel has posed:
    Raising an eyebrow slightly, he says "Thirty five hundred you say? I may want to meet this person, I have very few contemporaries. It happens I'm right around that age as well." He shrugs, "I can't give you an exact number, we didn't really have much in the way of calendars in those days. I'm just approximating from the time that I finally got somewhere that kept track of such things."

    "As for my followers, they are stuck, yes. And I suppose I should call them ex-followers, as they decided that since I had not gotten them out of hell in roughly two thousand years new leadership was called for." He shakes his head, "Though if I couldn't free them, I'm fairly certain Ophis won't manage it. He's got more muscles than brains, so I doubt he's going to accomplish much."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice can't help but let out a quiet snort of amusement - a grin growing across her features, before she puts on a more serious expresion. "Fine, fine. Bad timing," she agrees, dipping a pretzel into cheese sauce once more. I mean - who //doesn't// like cheese sauce? If there's left overs at the end of the meal, she may just let the boys polish off. If you can count on teens for one thing...
    "Being outside of hell doesn't offer you any additional options for rescuing them?" she asks curiously, between nibbles.