9110/Making an Exodus

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Making an Exodus
Date of Scene: 16 December 2021
Location: Greenwich Village
Synopsis: Paris Bennet makes his appearance and Monet is told to take a message to Xavier.
Cast of Characters: Monet St. Croix, Paris Bennet




Monet St. Croix has posed:
The Village is a busy place. Too much for the taste of Monet St. Croix. But in the recent years the area has been gentrified, likely, and if one had to ask her what her opinion was having never been there, it would have lost some of it's character. So today, the Moroccan mutant is walking along, wearing a more subdued outfit than usual consisting of a purple blouse and green pants. Making more of an attempt to not stand out (which is her eternal default). She's keeping up a good enough pace to make sure any pedestrian hopefully gets the hint and stays out of her way or risks being walked over.

Paris Bennet has posed:
Ignorance can take many forms.

The defining difference between it and stupidity is that the former can be helped, and is very often not the fault of the bearer. It is the nature of those lacking experience that they are ignorant until the process has been endured.

Such a process is taking place presently, and those of psychic ability will be keenly aware of this particular case as a soccerball sized field of energy manifests over the street and rapidly expands into a field of perfectly circular shape.

The field is a portal to elsewhere, but where is uncertain. What is more important is that a man of glowing and slightly violet countenance hovers through. He is clad in black and purple, with a white cloak over all. His hair is salt and pepper and slightly more than shoulder length. Gold within gold eyes survey his new location, and he observes,"I can feel...someone. Not unlike myself. But who...where..."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
And someone is coming out of nothingness. It takes a moment for Monet St. Croix to identify a massive psionic signature, and another for her to grasp that someone was teleporting. Or in this case making what seemed to be a small wormhole and apparating into existence.

A far more inefficient method of transit, but all the more indicative of raw mental power. So Monet St. Croix is immediately going on full defensive mentally, going to brace her mind and put up her mental defenses as deep as possible. Withdrawing her mind into itself to try and conceal it in the background.

Her somehwat better than normal hearing making it indicative that she was too late.. Even as she's taking several steps back to try and lose herself in the crowd.

Paris Bennet has posed:
The wormhole sizzles shut behind him with the sound of frying bacon followed by an electrical pop.

Likely onlookers would be confused by the man with the strange countenance. As much by his appearance as by his methods. A trained psychic knows the difference between a scalpel and a cudgel, and this man is a wrecking ball as he sweeps the vicinity looking for...someone. Brash and effective but lacking completely in finesse as he scans the vicinity causing more than a couple of nose bleeds in his wake.

Bennet mutters in a French dialect that is truly archaic, then declares,"I know thou art here. Reveal thyself..."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix is rapidly analysing the dialect. She can speak French fluently and several African languages and is broadly fluent in the history of the region. So when Exodus would start to speak she would take a moment to adjust her wording and dialect, and then speak roughly while trying to match it.

"Who are you, and what is the reasoning for your presence here?" Monet's voice is form, even as she's going to full analysis mode, mental shields on full.

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet elevates his altitude, brows furrowing in consternation. He hasn't had the pleasure of dealing with a fellow psychic of any ability, so this is novel for him. He knows that one is present. He can almost taste the defense. But the artistry...

At least compared to himself, lacking in proper instruction and literally flying by instinct...

He replies in proper chivalric manner,"I am Sir Bennet du Paris. I seek the knowledge of the presence in this vicinity. Another who is strong of mind, cease your hiding and reveal thyself!"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Now there is caution over in her tone as Monet St. Croix continues to maintain her distance, weaving in and out of the crowd while reviewing her knowledge of chivalric tones. Not having an idea of his order or time period (lack of specificities, another thing to loathe) she would speak, once again attempting to match the dialect.

"And yet you come to here in a highly visible manner, Sir Knight. I would have you give your word upon your order first that you mean no harm and will not do anything unless provoked or circumstances require it."

Paris Bennet has posed:
The alleged knight chuckles sardonically as he folds his arms. By now, people would likely be fleeing. The sight of so many bleeding ears and noses in his wake would be very understandable cause for panic.

The flying psychic replies,"You would have me swear upon a dead letter. Wouldst thou have me approach as an assassin? I was no ordered knight, I was the champion of his majesty King Philip the fair! By his mouldering corpse, no harm shall befall ye this day."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Oh lovely. Now at least she has a name, which lets her narrow down the range of possibilities and timespan. The name of the king, the mention of his death.. And she seems to have inadverdantly struck a nerve. There's little more she can do upon risk of revealing herself which would antagonize him further.

Monet St. Croix would walk out of the crowd, still full on mental defensive and with her arms in front of her in a defensive posture.

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet hrms upon laying eyes upon his quarry. This also means that the focus of his energies is brought to bear, which can be uncomfortable for most given his lack of refinement. He lowers his altitude along a diagonal descent to stop short of her, his cloak somehow scarcely fluttering with the movement.

He offers,"Most curious. I know there is more to you, but you hide it with great cleverness. It does not matter. I know there is a place somewhere near with many more like us. The Strong. Where is it?"

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The psychic energies pouring off him are painful. Monet St. Croix has to relayer her shields and not visibly wince, though it takes some doing. "That is not for me to say. They have given me succor, it is not my place to state where or to invite another to it. I am a guest, it is not my place to make a judgement as to how to grant such an invitation."

Monet stands up straighter, and makes a point of ensuring she is physically relaxed.

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet hrmphs with some annoyance at Monet's response. Unfolding his arms to let them hang at his sides, he replies,"I have given my word that no harm shall befall you this day. Elsewise, this would likely go differently. I will state my purpose that you may deliver my words."

Exodus regards her for a moment at this declaration, perhaps noting her discomfort. It's not a thing he knows fully how to help, but his features to grow milder at the observation. He delivers thusly,"I know there is another great mind, one that protects this place. It is called Xavier. It opposes the man to whom I am endebted, a man worthy of being called king. He is Magneto. Lest your lord doubt the veracity of my claims previous, the Eternal Pharaoh declared me the Way and the Light bridging the chasm from an ancient past to an inescapable future and dubbed me Exodus. The Eternal Pharaoh is an evil liar, but if your lord is worthy he will learn of whom I speak as mine did. I would parley with him at a place of his choosing."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Lovely, she's being pressed into messenger duty. Ordinarily Monet might go on about how such a thing was beneath her, but for now she held it in. Even she could realize some things were not the time nor the place. "I will do what I can, but I make no promises on the part of how it's reception will be. I may speak only that the message has been delivered on the matter."

Honest, at least. And extremely wary. The.. Eternal Pharaoh is something she has not heard before. "And what is this individual you call the Eternal Pharaoh? I would do with a name before I speak of a myth to anyone. It wastes time."

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet growls softly at the impertinence, but he's somewhat reasonable and recognizes a point when he hears it. Therefore he replies in something of a snarl,"Il s'appelle En Sabah Nur."

With that, Bennet elevates ever so slightly in altitude, turning his gaze about to the mostly clear surroundings. A few linger snapping photos or recording the interaction with their cellphones. Bennet mutters,"Such base trifles. They know not that they profit by the trinkets of their ruin."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
And Monet St. Croix files that particular information away. Her hands ball into fists, and her facade breaks some. "You are the one that is making a spectacle. If you don't want attention, at least take the initiative to keep a low profile."

Her arms still in that halfway defensive stance. "And your word shall extend to them as well to not harm them."

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet laughs as the spark of defiance finally surfaces, face dancing with unpleasant mirth,"You misunderstand completely. I don't hide because I have nothing to hide. Of course I am spectacle."

Bennet then drops his tone a threatening rumble,"And they are unworthy of such a promise, do educate them to not flail at the whirlwind."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
He's close to the point of threatening civilians. Or at least not caring. "You would break your word already given? Xavier protects not only his own but those of the city. You would grant an ill impression should you violate the safety of those that his house cares for." Monet would give her best argument.

Paris Bennet has posed:
The pause between argument and rebuttal is proof of his consideration, but the rebuttal does come,"The trinkets of which I speak are the toys that they use to house memories of this moment. Their cameras, their pocket abacci, their time keepers. It has all made them soft. Misplaced values leading to decadence and ruin under a delusion of worth. They are weak and think they are strong because they are wise in the use of toys. They are beneath contempt, therefore may sleep safe from my ire."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Not wishing to sully himself with the lessers is something that Monet can work with. "And yet you lack perspective. You call them soft with but a glimpse." Monet St. Croix calms herself. "One should not leap to a conclusion before one has learned." Not snapping further at this man that she liked not in the least.

Paris Bennet has posed:
The man narrows his gold within gold eyes a touch before folding his arms anew. Glancing to one of the rubberneckers with a cellphone camera, he plucks the device from the man's grasp. He starts to yell and protest, but his buddies pull him back and talk sense into him as Bennet proceeds,"This device, built to house memories and short circuit the challenge of knowledge acquisition while making a mockery of the talents of such as we is a plague on the senses. It is un exemple parfait of the ruin I speak of...and yet it is enshrined as an idol to this era by these...people that your lord wishes to protect. I leave you with that consideration."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
And now they're getting to the point of conflict. Monet St. Croix would rise up several inches in the air and have her fists in front of her. "You have made your point." Her teeth would grind together and her fists would be balled up. "If you have nothing more to pontificate upon, begone. Your message will be passed."

Paris Bennet has posed:
Bennet du Paris is positively charmed by the defiant spark of Monet, and rewards her with a smile from his luminous countencance before extending an arm straight out to his side.

There, it is as if he is touching the stuff of space itself as a small white field like static resonates from his fingers. The effect is very much like before, to include the sudden widening of the ball of energy around a view of a very different place.

Bennet then glides through, and vanishes as the field collapses with a loud pop. Again, much like before.

The moment the field collapses, the mental weight of unrestrained presence vanishes completely.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
And he's gone. And Monet St. Croix is left alone with just the crowd of passerby. "Haven't you seen enough? Get going already." She's not telepathically prompting them to. She's got a migraine from the telepathic kickback of someone teleporting by wormhole and simply goes to fly up and away, moving to zoom along through the air to somewhere nearby to compose herself.