889/A Friend In Need

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A Friend In Need
Date of Scene: 31 March 2020
Location: Kitty's Room
Synopsis: A worried Lockheed summons Doug and Illyana to check in on their friend.
Cast of Characters: Kitty Pryde, Douglas Ramsey, Illyana Rasputina

Kitty Pryde has posed:
It's late in the evening on a Tuesday night. School is in session though people are starting to think about summer, or graduation depending on the individual. Many of the students are hanging out in their rooms, while some are down in the Rec Room still playing video games until one of the staff come along to kick them out. At which point they will probably go back to their own rooms and play video games.

The hour winds on past eleven o'clock. It was a nice day outside earlier, though the wind has picked up and is howling against the solid frame of the old mansion. Occasionally rattling windows or whistling through the eves.

Another sound makes itself known. A scratching that after a moment of listening, can be heard coming from outside the door of Doug's room. There's a bit of a thumping sound against the wood, and then more scratching.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug looks up, from where he's doing push-ups with Illyana sitting on his back. "...Whazzat." He says. "Illyana, get the door, would you?" He reaches for a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.

"It's open!" He calls.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana makes an exceptionally good weight, distributing her weight just so. Sitting lotus-form makes this a bit kinder on Doug, though not by much. She currently has a book contraband in nine dimensions on her knee, heavy and full of ophidian swirls of ink that realign and sketch themselves in murky ways in response to her reading, which has to be uncomfortable. Her t-shirt is sketched in black, with Supreme written across the bust in jagged gold and red letters, with some open diamond glyph right beneath it for fun. With the scratching at the door, her gaze rises, the Isis tear of black eyeliner dancing on her pale skin. "Mmmhmm. Inakhta!" The book slams shut, covers shrinking down to what looks like the tawdriest romance novel one can buy on Amazon. A blond confronts perils most foul with gallant ease. She steps up to let Doug regain his grip on the towel and not so much an aching back.

A quiver in the fabric of reality might just set off the bells that lead her to stalk to the door, slipping to the side of the jamb where anything coming through has to pass her. And maybe not even see her at that. Habits die hard. Slipping the handle open, she glances to Doug and nods, looking at the floor. "Too soon for the mephit of impermeable flame to be back. No one's found that one yet." Much to her disappointment and amusement. Still, a carnelian and swirled copper d20 with tiny little spikes on its tail isn't sitting there waiting for her, is it?

"Da?" Ooh, see, they're not alone.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Outside the door is a little purple dragon, with yellow eyes, horns sprouting off the top of his head, and a little snaggletooth fang jutting up from his lip on each side of his mouth. Lockheed's wings give a little flap as he looks inside the room and sees Doug and, after a moment of peering to the side, Illyana.

Rather than come in, the small dragon gives another flap and then turns and trots a few steps down the hallway. He pauses there, looking back to them in as expectant a manner as he can manage, and then takes another few steps before stopping again to see if the follow.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug looks up, and then he stares after Lockheed, and says, "He wants us to go with him." Duh. Way to go, Doug.

Then he's following along behind and he says, "You know you could just TELL me what's going on, Lockheed--"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Look, Illyana owns a freaking oven mitt that looks like Lockheed. She probably has a weathered blanket with him on it as a patchwork from the days when she was four feet tall, and an imp with golden curls and shy smiles looking around the huge bulk of her big brother. "I know," she tells Doug when he speaks of the obvious, the book banished by portal that snaps open and shut underneath it with a wink. Nope, that's not one she is willing to leave on Doug's floor for just anyone to pick up. The blonde steps outside into the hall and pads after the little violet love-bug dragon. "We go wherever you need us, Lockheed." Disregard the chiding tone from the omniglot, hers has that element of frost fire and rare glimpses of real affection. Hey, if he'd let her wear him as a hat or a scarf at cuddle time, it might just happen.

The thin gleam of the Soulsword's profile is totally -not- present. Not yet. But the way her fingers ride at her hip, practically ready to wrap around nothingness and produce something, indicates just about where her mind is at. Maybe someone has a lovely black forest cake to cut! Then she'll be prepared.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
As the pair follow Lockheed, he gives them what Doug could read to be a grateful look. He takes flight, though moving at only a quick walking speed for a human. It isn't very long of a trip either. Just down to where Kitty Pryde's old room is. She's reclaimed it since returning from Oxford.

Speaking of Kitty, she's been hard to find around the school. Or if not hard to find, not often seen since Genosha. When she has been, she's had a smile-shaped mask on her face and acted genial enough to people. Though those smiles don't touch her eyes like they did before her father died in Genosha.

Some, such as Doug, probably know she's spent a lot of her time in a room down in the X-men base near their server farm. One she commandeered and put up a "Restricted" sign on the door and has kept locked ever since. Mostly only seen coming and going from it for food. Or frequently heading out of the school and off who knows where. They might have heard from the Wellness office of her coming in with bruises or needing stitches on one or two occasions.

Lockheed leads them right to her door, which is ajar just enough to have let the dragon out in the first place. He pushes hard on it with flaps of his wings, swinging it open.

Kitty is sitting inside. She sitting on the floor, back leaning against her bed. Wearing a pair of sweats and a Xavier's t-shirt she cropped above her stomach. To the senses, Kitty looks like she hasn't slept in two days, and the nose might suspect she hasn't showered in three. She's just sitting there with a blank look on her face as Lockheed moves to land at her side, and look back to Doug and Illyana.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug moves quickly enough. They all took basic first aid, tricky as that can be for mutants -- he checks Kitty's pulse at her wrist, counting silently against a clock in his phone before he checks her eyes with it - which she probably wouldn't appreciate but he checks anyway. "Kitty," He snaps his fingers in front of her face, "Kitty!"

Then he looks up at Lockheed and says to the Dragon, "Go find out if Sharon's here, Lockheed, quick!" He leans back down and says, "Aw, buddy... how long have you been *in* here?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Blonde hair dusting around her shoulders stirs in lazy circles once Illyana comes to a halt. With her, the transitions tend towards sudden. One moment she walks, the next she is at a dead halt. The threshold to Kitty's room doesn't hold her back like a barrier to the undead; few of them seem to have the weakness to sacred thresholds, and neither is this sealed Ancient Rome. Her hand slips away from her side, moving across her stomach and swept up to catch her elbow. Fingers curl briefly, and she ignores the skirling wind outside that sings its mournful lament. "Say no if you want the window closed." A warning in Kitty's direction, really, even as she slips past dragon and boyfriend to find the window. Blinds are pulled, sash thrown if need be, and the window hauled open unless it has literally been nailed into place. A rush of freshened air slipping through is only the first part.

Old lessons under a poisoned tree have their virtue here. They hurt to remember, crystallized in memory, but always there for the taking. She draws a deep breath, unpleasant as it may be; Limbo has far, far worse. "Wait." This to Doug, as her eyes start to lose their focus and the sharp, crisp motions etched by her right hand produce the softest murmur. "I need to See." See has its emphasis, and part of that constant attunement banishes outside distractions. She might not be seeing anything in the mortal world at all. "Lay her down slowly. She pushed herself too far, and her body is at its limit." The faintest of smirks shows, barely, as she approaches the brunette with fingers to sweep away dark hair from her brow. "Ah, Katya. When you need that, you come to me."

It's almost wistful in its way.

"Healing hurts. No interruptions if we must, da?"

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Lockheed looks to Doug and he takes wing, flying nimbly across the room and out of the door, banking hard and apparently buzzing past someone as there is a soft, "Hey, watch out!" from a student who keeps walking without looking into the room.

Kitty sits motionless for the first few moments as Doug starts checking her vitals. They seem fine. Other than however many hours she's gone without sleep, she's physically fine. Emotional state might be another story.

Kitty's eyes finally shift from their blank stare after a few moments, to look over and focus on Doug. "I... not sure," she says quietly. She looks around as if she needed to in order to tell where 'here' was.

The wind comes in from the newly opened window, as if glad to finally be able to enter the building. Some papers on her desk are blown across the room, but otherwise the cool moving air just swirls about and carries away those accumulated scents that come from exertion without stopping to bathe.

Kitty's eyes go over to Illyana. "Illy," she says softly. Kitty swallows. "I can't find him," she says, her eyes dropping down to the ground. Other than the lack of sleep she looks like she's in decent shape, though there's a pair of bruises made visible by the cropped tee leaving her midriff bare. One on each side of her body, like someone hit or kicked her on each side.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"Oh." Doug pauses, and then says, "...You're blue-screening because of your dad." Doug gets up, and says, "All right. First--" He glances up at Illyana, "She needs some water."

He kneels down and says, "Kitty, I--" He pauses, and then he internally wrestles with the desire to comfort versus the desire not to give false hope. He clenches his black and gold hand into a fist, briefly. "...He wouldn't want you to do this to yourself." He decides on, finally.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Bruises are an ugly thing, but nothing that so shocks Illyana she fails to act. The vivid saturation of light in her gaze fades out, giving those pale blue irises their normal shade again. Rare, but there it is, even as she sketches a look all the way down Kitty's body and back up again to assure nothing is jarringly out of place. Field medicine with the Demon Queen of Limbo is a rare and strange thing. Following Doug's lead, she sits next to Kitty and nudges the young woman lightly with her elbow in a gesture of olden familiarity.

"You have friends who find lost things," she reminds in that soft tone of voice. Nothing demanding, but her usual blunt Russian way of talking is, well, blunt. Less like a sledgehammer. "Listen to him. Doug speaks the truth. You can tell us what you need, we can help you investigate. Or put your thoughts to rest. But to run yourself into the ground will not achieve what you want. It slows the process down." She thumbs one of the rings around her thumb, the only finger at all with any such additions and even those are pretty rare occurrences for her to wear. Jewelry? Yana? Blame another suspect.

She almost taps Kitty's temple, a gentle reminder. "Do not make me try to whip up a big bowl of borscht. You look like you need it. I /will/ go to Katz's and stand in line and come back with a sandwich even he could not cram in his mouth." No, not sticking out her tongue at Doug, but she looks his way. "Or is there something else?"

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The suggestion of water is probably a good one. Days of subsisting on way too much coffee will lead to dehydration easily enough, and that might also seem like part of what is ailing Kitty along with the lack of sleep.

The eighteen year old brunette girl's hair is half in her ponytail and half has managed to slip free, giving her a bit more of a haphazard look than people are used to seeing her with. She looks slowly back to Doug. "He's somewhere. Has to be," she says in a voice dull and mostly devoid of emotions.

There are more bruises hidden up under her shirt, and one down on her thigh inside of her sweats. Stitches in the back of her head, hidden beneath her hair to most sight, but not to any magical senses that are used.

As Illyana nudges her, Kitty looks over and then leans over against the blond who used to be the much younger girl Kitty had once befriended, and now has become so much more. Kitty rests her head against Illyana's shoulder. "I just thought I'd find him by now," she whispers to them. Kitty sees Doug's hand clenching and she slowly reaches out to rest her hand on top of his.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug sighs, and he squeezes Kitty's hand. "You need water, and you need to sleep. And then you need a shower, because pee-yew."

Then he sighs, and runs his other hand through sweaty hair, before he says, "You've been running yourself ragged. You're *hurting* yourself, and this stops now. So you either take our advice," He says, "Or we go get Scott and you wind up in the vat." He teases, "Rememeber the Kitty Emergency vat? You hate the vat."

He looks up at Illyana, more than a little helplessly.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"I may have." That is not the answer anyone in range of Illyana probably wants to hear, offered as it is with that tenebrous quality disconnected from the young woman of so very, very few years. No, Illyana may be on the physical side of nineteenish, but that voice belongs to a much older, much harder presence wrapped up in a glittering mask that proves nature is harsh, beautiful, and a deceitful liar with intent to maim the unsuspecting come in too close.

Just you wait, pretties. Still, she drives her fingertips into a widening splay while wrapping her arm around Kitty, lending that support as though the aeons of time are no matter at all to her. They might as well just stay there until the next great glaciation buries the remnants of New York under a mile of ice and clogs Long Island Sound with enormous megafauna penguins again, and auks the size of dumpsters.

Her eyes narrow at the threats, playful as they are, and she says nothing to it. Instead, she takes in a deep breath through her nose, holds for three seconds, and releases it through her mouth in a longer beat, five achingly stretched seconds. "I can reset you, Katya. I will. But you must promise me you will rest. Who concussed you?" Ooh, the vocabulary of Charles Xavier finally makes its belated appearance! "A fair trade. To be mended, you stop wearing yourself thin. And you tell us who is responsible."

That dark hair covers the dark gaze from the frosty sorceress, which is a good thing. Writ large in that, justice.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Some of that gets through to Kitty. She manages a small wince. "Hate the vat," she agrees. Maybe more than anything, just that talk about normalcy and past events seems to pull a bit more attentiveness out of her. Her soft brown eyes seem to register more as she looks at both of her oldest friends.

"Sorry... didn't mean to... to worry anyone," she says, and tries to slip an arm around Doug to hug him. She's already leaning gently against Illyana. Indeed, not worrying anyone has been why she's had that emotional mask in place around everyone at the school.

"I should probably get a bath," she mumbles in agreement, before Illyana's question pulls her attention. The strong breeze continues to blow in, stirring her hair. Kitty reaches up to touch the back of her head. "Mutant Town," she says quietly. "Since Genosha. People been causing problems there. I've been dealing with them," she says, her eyes at the end looking a little harder than usual. "Don't tell Jean, ok?" she says. "Was baiting a group I thought had been attacking mutants. And... ran into a totally different ambush," she says.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"The bath can wait." Doug says, "Maybe second, or third on the list, but it can wait." Then he adds, "Oh. You've been playing vigilante and you haven't been telling anybody. Not even Logan?" He flattens his mouth into a line. No, now is not the time to be judgey. "All right. Up! Off the floor," He says, moving to pick her up.

"We're going to get you some water and then we're going to have Sharon take a look at you and make sure you're all right, and then you're going to get some sleep." He glances back up to Illyana, "Though I guess as far as medicine goes, I concede ground to our resident sorceress."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"Damn straight you are." Illyana runs her fingers through her hair and disengages from Kitty long enough to stand from the bed, shaking out her wrists lightly at her sides. No hug pile for this particularly thorny icicle, though her hand gazes up the length of Doug's back and slides along the margins where his shirt slips over his arm. Her palm rests there, cool and steady, a presence defined by its overt message. "Vigilante, and we are left out. Tsch, the things I do for people." Now is not the time to be judgy, but damn straight she can be. "I will remember the next time /I/ go hunting and someone accuses me of bad things."

She draws back further, still keeping her fingers lightly steepled against Doug's nape. Nothing uncomfortable there, just a light touch. "Stay put, volchonok. You make a better grounding focus this way. I would like my blood not to leak out my ears."

Nope, it'll just run down her nose instead, but that matters little. Ororo's oldest lessons have never gone astray, but fighting the lens of Oshtur's magic through the besmirched hue of her soul isn't easy. Long as those bloodstones are out there, she is a vessel cracked. The glow starts almost immediately to tap in, the flickering motions of her hand inscribing orbits of ancient purpose, doubly nested upon themselves, whirlwind motes following the diurnal turn of the sun. Hence the bleeding from the sorceress; it's as pure as one can get, healing, dipping into the wellspring of energy around them. The channel hop-skips through Doug himself, forking through living tissues and banishing aches, then spreading out in a glowing wave tinged white-gold all the way around Kitty. In this, Illyana is absolutely ruthless, sustaining the flow while her lips will eventually gain a crimson line bisecting them. Very Gautier, 1993. But where bones ache and minor lacerations exist, they're set to true and energy topped off better than Red Bull could possibly achieve.

Take that, modern medicine! No one tell Strange.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
At the mention of Logan, Kitty gives a small shake of her head. "Probably grouse... but... quietly be proud," she says quietly. "Just didn't see the one coming, took me a bit... before my head cleared and I could phase," she says. She doesn't mention her other trips to Bushwick.

As Doug picks her up, Kitty's arm goes about her old friend. She's weak with fatigue and tiredness, with dehydration. But mostly with the emotional pain she's harbored away inside.

The warm wash of Illyana's magic flows through her. The teen's injuries are not great, pains and inconveniences mostly. To laugh for the first day or two was to hurt. But that rush of healing energy has Kitty Pryde mended, finishing its work almost before the soft gasp that Kitty gives has faded from the room.

"Sorry," Kitty says to her friends, her tone genuine. "I just... I needed to do these things myself," she says. Trying to explain. And her face showing she knows the explanation is not enough.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
"Water. Sleep. ...Shower. Food." Doug says, as he helps Kitty to her bed and sets her down. "Everything else later." Doug sighs again and runs his hand through his hair before he mutters, "...We all have to deal with this in our own way." He exhales, and then says, "...Or not."

Then he puts his hand on his chin and scuffs one foot against the floor as he thinks about something, his expression thoughtful. "...And maybe next time you decide to go out and kick hoodlums in the face in Bushwick... leave a note?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Doug's healed right along with Kitty; the spell doesn't care about the difference in them, putting them both back to tip-top shape. And when Illyana steps back, the right answer is pinching her nostrils shut while the bleed continues. Ew. Well, she ought to have a tissue on her or maybe Kitty has one she can borrow. No apologies are given as she ghosts away and manages not to run into the wall or such. "Mmhrm," an agreement comes close-lipped to Doug's suggestion. No point in adding to the ghoulish appearance.

This would, of course, be the time that Piotr /would/ normally just walk by and see bloody sister and the hug monsters, a new band name if there was one.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty knows better than to argue. Ok actually she doesn't, but at the moment she's too tired, so Doug's caregiving is going to win by default this time. Kitty does know what it costs Illyana though, and a bit of guilt shows in her face. She motions towards where the box of tissues is, unable to reach them herself.

"Thank you, both of you," she says. About then is when Lockheed comes flapping back in. He sees Doug supporting Kitty and moves over to land on his shoulder. Kitty reaches up to give Lockheed a fond horn-rub. "And thank you too. Guessing this was your doing?" she tells the dragon.

It's good to have friends.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug still looks unhappy, but he's swallowing it for now. In the meantime he finds some tissues and begins daubing at the blood on Illyana's face. "And you," He says, "Quit playing Florence Nightmaregale, you know what it takes out of you..." He stops fussing for a bit to look out the window, and then he adds, "It's going to be a long, ugly summer, guys."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Blame Lockheed. Illyana wave a non-bloody tissue at him, heralding the good work done by everyone's favourite violet scamp. No secrets are being told there, even as she helps Doug wipe up the worst of her face. Ooh, bloody death mask. Not quite so impressive but it does bleed pretty well, noses being like that. When he turns away for a second, she presses her lips to his cheek. A micro-PDA by the best of things, but it's clear how dizzy and vertigo-ridden she must be. Right? That's a look. She puckers her lips up in the reflection of the window, then curls her lip and throws devil's horns at herself. Gnar.

"Shut up and let me try being good for once," she grouses in Russian, dark and harsh clashing syllables murmured thus. "Summer is hard."

Kitty Pryde has posed:
The peck isn't lost on Kitty. She looks between her two old friends, who she has seen so little since that night at the Sailor Pub in Mutant Town. "Yeah... so... I guess things are good then?" she asks, voice tired but not dimming her interest in the matter as she glances between them. "I hoped so. Just... I hoped," she tells them softly.

Kitty doesn't say how the thought of them working out is a small balm on what she's feeling inside. Though Doug surely can read it from her face as easily as if she said it. And Illyana probably wouldn't have too much more difficulty reading that herself, even without Doug's mutant flare for such matters.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug reaches down and takaes hold of Illyana's hand. "We're figuring it out, and taking it one day at a time, but we're enjoying each other's company." Doug says to Kitty, hoping that that perhaps makes her feel a little better. "And I'm guessing you and Bobby decided you weren't really feeling the romance?" Well, now's not the time to play Yenta.

"Water." He reminds her. "Then sleep."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Aww, holding not quite bloody hands. Exchanging the tissues to balled up doom, Illyana tosses them freehand for the basket. It's close enough not to miss, though she is going to so be carrying that out with her to incinerate somewhere on site. The mere idea of burnination of her bodily fluids is almost drawn in golden flames in her eyes, but not quite. Another assessment of her predicament in the window assures she isn't too ghoulish for most of the student body, just some. "You need a bite," she adds to Doug, gesturing to his neck. "So they think the right story applied." The brief smirk is toothy, which is clearly how one handles holding hands, like the most alien situation a girl could ever be in.

Besides, Kitty is watching and that means meeting her best friend's look head on. "You are supposed to rest. Rest is not being on the computer, either." It needs to be said. "Mutant Town can be cleaned up later." This, a nod to Doug, leaves few doubts of her plans.

Kitty Pryde has posed:
Kitty gives a slow nod at her instructions from her friends. "Right. I should sleep," she agrees quietly, glancing at the bed. Though when she moves, it's to the bathroom, filling a glass of water and bringing it back, sipping it. That was one of the other doctor's orders.

Kitty does manage a soft smile, and though tired, this one reaches her eyes unlike so many the last few weeks. "Good. I'm glad," she says to them, before she considers the other question. "Roberto's a good guy," she says softly. "He's been there for me, but yeah, not sure I'm the right one for him," Kitty says with a shrug. "But it was fun that night. We should all go out again sometime." She moves over to sit on her bed, and Lockheed flaps over, headbutting her as if to encourage her to keep moving and get under the covers. "Sorry if I worried you. I'll... I'll try not to," she tells them.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
Doug gives Illyana's hand a slight squeeze. "Later," he says to her out of the corner of his mouth.

Then he says, "No, it's fine. We all look out for one another pal. We always have, and we always will." He shrugs his shoulders, and then says, "But for right now, quit worrying about upsetting us, willya?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Someone's getting nudged with an elbow, since Doug is already glowing with the aftermath of the spell that chips away at any fatigue from working out. Maybe because a Rasputin by name is sneaky. "You can do a few more laps," she asides to him. Not quite letting go of his hand, either, fingers curled around his.

"Da, that. You get some sleep. Then we can go from there." The blonde sorceress gives a little poke of her finger in Kitty's direction. "Lockheed, you are keeping watch on her. Rat her out when she is trying to run away and be busy." Sass dragon!