9559/X-Gossip Marks the Spot

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X-Gossip Marks the Spot
Date of Scene: 10 January 2022
Location: X-Lounge
Synopsis: Emma, Jean, Kurt, and Rogue debate the theological ramifications of existence, the end times, angels, the cycles of life and death while under the strong influence of alcohol.

Aka 'When Rogue saved Jean by throwing a spitball at her'.

Cast of Characters: Emma Frost, Rogue, Jean Grey, Kurt Wagner

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost is heading into the X-Lounge towards one of the couches. Emma is wearing something that many might assume would be un-Emma'ish depending on thier point of view, consisting of a long set of thick corduroy pants and a white blouse (if only as the clothes don't look expensive enough to buy a sports car for). She's sitting down on a chair,a nd is moving to adjust a laptop over on her lap that's precariously perched, a goblet with no wine in it, and no bottle around her to be seen.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is standing in the kitchen area of the lounge, wearing her green and gold X-Men bodysuit, with a brown and black leather trench coat on over it. She has her phone held in her hand in front of her, and is checking messages from her social media when the door opens up.

A grin spreads across her lips at the sight. "Emma." She says with real mischievously fueld pleasure behind it.

"Nice t'see ya around." She adds as she sets her phone down on the counter in front of her, her yellow gloves folded up on the counter beside it, leaving her hands bare to lean on the counter's surface.

"How was your New Year?" Rogue asks of the White Queen.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would give a glance up at Rogue, "Anna-Marie." She would offer, "And well enough. I spent my time sober and attempting to catch up with the logistics going on with the coming evacuation of Manhattan and reviewing logistics." Emma, hardly the sentimental type.

"And while it seems the evacuation has gone well, little else has since then." Emma looks tired for just a moment, even in a circumstance she was not directly involved in. "I hope that you had a better one than I did and got to do something relaxing."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue purses her lips at this response, then leans down to cross her arms on the counter, leaning down on them beside her phone and gloves. She shrugs her shoulders inside that leather coat she's wearing. "Oh, you know... Just sorta hung out around the house. I'm on watch duty now, makin' sure this place stays safe while whatever goes on, goes on." She says with a brief grimace.

Her green eyes glance toward the door of the lounge, before looking back to the other woman.

"If things go south though, I'm gonna hit the skies, and bust some heads, ya know?" She says in that thick Mississippi Belle accent of hers.

A quick grin is shown to the blonde though. "How about you? Wanna be big damn heroes?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would let out a sigh at Rogue, "I'm glad that you were able to indulge yourself some." From the way she holds herself, she woudl be wistful. "Not the worst sort of thing to have. Appreciate those days as much as you can. For there are too few of them."

Then as Rogue would offer, Emma would glance at her, "Oh? Do consider me quite intrigued. Of the things that I have been referred to as, a 'big damned hero' has not ever been one of them. Do tell."

Rogue has posed:
"Well." Rogue says then as she straightens up again, then walks around the kitchen counter corner toward the rest of the lounge. "You're a capable mutant, t'say the very least, right?" She asks, as she stands beside the pool table now, and moves to sit upon it, floating up in to the air gently and lowering back down to use its edge as a chair.

"Ya got the mind powers, and more, right?" She asks, her legs crossing at the knees now, her chin up just a little as she talks, green eyes on Emma.

"I'm just sayin', if whomever is doin' the defendin' on whatever it is goin' on out there... does a piss poor job? Folks like you an' me gotta step up, and put the threats down. So t'speak." She then shows a ghost of a grin.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would smile at Rogue, "I do like the way you phrase things. May I call you Rogue? Or do you prefer Anna-Marie? Or something else?" She would inquire over so to be more informal than her usual 'Ms. Marie'. "I do quite like the way you phrase things. And do consider my assistance available at whatever level it best suits however you plan to.. reset the equilibrium."

Rogue definitely had Emma's attention, and the blonde flashing her a fully engaged,a lmost sadistic smile. "Do tell. Don't keep a lady waiting.."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just softly laughs at this as her hands go to either side of her on the table's edge. "I just mean... ya know. Us types with skills.... the big skills.... the kinda skills that can tip the tides on actual big threats. we gotta stick t'gether." She says in that bubbly happy way of hers.

"And Rogue or Marie is good with me, whichever someone prefers t'use. Anna.... I dunno. Doesn't settle with me so good."

The Belle eyes the laptop then before upnodding at it.

"Ya come down here t'find some peace'n quiet t'work on stuff?" She asks then.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would nod, "Of course. Whatever you are comfortable wtih." She would smile. "And yes, we all do our part. You quite more.. Effectively and directly than most of us. You are quite thorough at it as well." Sh would smile. "And we are all on the same team. We want to make the world a better place and safer."

At Rogue stating what she preferred.. "Marie it is. Please do tell me if you prefer otherwise. And I come here to think and work. And to.." She would close her eyes.

"Remind myself sometimes that we are not alone."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue laughs softly at this response. She dips her chin in a single nod to the other woman from her perch on the edge of the pool table. Her eyes glance back to the door, then back to Emma. "Yeah, this place is kinda hard t'find any peace'n quiet. I uh... I dig it down here cause the wifi is strongest. Plus, I mean..."

She motions to the television, then the kitchen.

"Ya got everything ya need down here, minus any'a the damn loud mouthed fat kids like upstairs." She says with a broadening grin for the blonde.

"Want me t'leave ya be though, so you can get your work done?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would smile, "No, it's fine. This is your home moreso than it is mine. And if I wished to isolate myself in quiet there are plenty of locales. It is.. Quiet here. The studetns up above are a reminder of what we fight for, and the other teachers here are.. Calming. If I wished to be alone I have my office. If I wished to be with others there are the common areas of the Club." The Club implicit where she meant.

"HEre I have some semblance of everything without it being quite so leaning in any direction."

Rogue has posed:
This gets a gentle pair of nods from the Belle.

"True, true." She says softly back before she glances toward the kitchen, then back to Emma. "Well, all the same, it's good t'see ya hauntin' the halls a bit more. Like I said, we seem t'be in a constant state of emergency these days, so havin' some backup is always welcome."

Rogue uncrosses her legs then and slips off the table once more. "Ya want somethin' t'drink?" She asks, motioning toward the kitchen. "We got a good selection down here, away from all those grabby hands upstairs."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would hum contentedly, "I'm always fine with being on call. I might not always be here and with the hellscape that sit he modern traffic network I can't always get here quickly, but I'm always available. I'm more than happy to spend more time here. And.. the constant state of emergency has me worried."

Glancing over at Rogue she would sigh, "Please. Whatever you're going to have. Nothing too strong thank you, I'm a Bostonian."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue smiles lightly as she passes back in to the kitchen. "So you're back at that Hellfire Club now?" She asks over her shoulder as she gets two glasses. "Did you sell that hotel off in Mutant town? It was so pretty, I imagine it'd bring in a pretty penny..."

She grabs a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet, pours them both a glass, then puts the bottle back.

"I always meant t'come down to the Hellfire more, but everyone tells me I should avoid it, cause it's trouble." She offers the glass to Emma with a grin.

"These people don't realize that just makes me wanna go more though." She adds whilst raising her glass up for a sip.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would nod, "I was too.. Inactive with it. For the good of the community it served it needed someone that was a part of it. Not someone who was barely there caring for things and micro-managing. I did.. Not wish to make it cater to someone else's tastes that did not know the area."

She would go to hold out her glass and chuckle. "THey would have the right of things, Marie. They would have the right of things. But, you would get in trouble no matter where you went."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue and Emma are both enjoying glasses of bourbon from the cabinet. The Belle in her green and gold, Emma in a nice business casual attire. Rogue leans against the pool table, folding one arm over her stomach, her other hand holding her glass. She grins at Emma.

"Well that much is true." She says back then. "I mean... it's not any fun unless ya try'n make it so. That's the problem with most folks... they want fun, but they don't know how to /get/ the fun, ya see." She says before sipping her drink once more.

"Me? I'm no know it all, but I got a fair understandin' of the line between trouble, and fun, an' how t'walk it... like a tight rope, ya see."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would nod at Rogue, "The Club has a reputation. Well earned. But for the.. Purposeful intent of fun." The wy she would say 'purposeful intent' would imply of a rather negative connotation. "For my own mental health.. I'm far better that my standing with them has removed me from the Board. The club occasionally does need new things in it.."

Glancing at the television that was shut off. "Or sometimes burnt down to the ground. I think moreso that that would be an improvement on the eyesore that it is."

Jean Grey has posed:
"What is Rogue burning down now?"

Jean only heard snippets, it sounds like, and she ASSUMES THE WORST of the resident troublemaker. Naturally! Or at least teases her with that characterization.

Jean arrives, rather casually attired as well. Normally, during the school week, it's rare to see her shed the Librarian look, but the weekends do ease things up a little. So she's got on one of her typically warm and comfy dark green sweaters, over baggy sweatpants and fluffy slippers. Definitely full-on 'cozy' mode as winter has finally arrived in Westchester. Of course, its nicely temperature controlled down in the base. But why give up on slippers?

Approaching, she greets both with a quick finger-wiggle and Emma with an extra 'ping' hello in her head, grinning as her eyes slide to their drinks. "Looks like you've got a nice head start, someone catch me up!"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is sipping her drink and smiling softly at what Emma says about the Club. "Well." She starts. "If ya ever need any help around there, I'm curious, so..." Oops, there's Jean.

Rogue stands up from the pool table and just grins at the casual looking redhead. She gives her a happy look before walking toward the kitchen. "You want a bit'a bourbon in your life too?" She asks of her.

"Emma an' I were just talkin' about the things that keep an Emma busy. She's out there livin' that fancy life. I'm tryin' to get glimpses of it... Her an' Betsy are our rich an' famous lifestyle members, after all."

Once in the Kitchen, Rogue goes about getting another glass prepared to Jean. Doesn't take her very long either... She's already walking back with it to offer it to the Fire Girl.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would lean back over and then respond to Jean's ping, "Hello Jean." She would call out to the redheaded telepath, going to take a moment to sniff appreciatively at the bourbon. "The Club might call itself classy and to appeal to the normal nature of humanity.. But it's still somewhere that is built upon suffering and controlling the flow of miseries to others. An unfortunate part of the human experience.."

How jaded even those of the rich and famous and old money got. "The Club prides itself upon the spirit of ribaldiness for the sake of it so long as the right people are enjoying it. While they won't tolerate something that might openly disrupt it.. Well.." She would let out a sigh. "One can sometimes hope." Oh, how that place needed to be excised with fire. Or if it was up to her.. PUtting that damned Selene on the stake and throwing a match.

Jean Grey has posed:
"It seems like she has a new project, venture or master plan every time we see her," Jean echoes back at Rogue, as Emma seemingly becomes the center of attention for them both. When she comes a little closer, she casts a speculative sidelong glance at the blonde. "So what is it this time around?"

It's probably not much surprise that her face scrunches up a bit when 'the Club' comes up as part of the answer on that topic, although at least it seems like everyone is on the same page for once. "Sometimes it surprises me you ever went back there, after everything they were up to, everything they've done. But I guess... well, maybe it's like that adage. What is it, keep your enemies close? It's not like any of the rest of us can do that the way you can."

She beams a truly thankful look at Rogue, patron Saint of Booze when her drink arrives, taking it happily. "But, speaking of our rich and glamorous friends, at least we have Betsy's place for when we want to misbehave -without- the worry about waking up later in a dungeon."

Then, with a more focused concern, "So is she causing more trouble? Her and the other hellspawn, out to have fun while everyone is more angry at angels?" Sort of a genius plan, in an evil way!

Rogue has posed:
Rogue walks around behind Jean and settles down on tothe arm of one of the sofa chairs. She had refreshed her own drink, and takes another sip from it. "What if I wanna wake up in a dungeon?" She says with a grin back at Jean, before her stare goes to Emma.

"The Hellfire Club has a bad history... but, what place on this earth doesn't? Ya know?"

She shakes her head side to side then, her loose white bangs flowing gently against the sides of her face. "I been listenin' to a podcast t'get t'sleep at night, and its all this macabre shit from the past. It's relaxin', but is just teachin' me how dirty every single corner'a this world is. Everything is built on the foundation'a blood. So it seems anywho."

Her glass is lifted again, but she quickly adds. "This is why ya gotta inject even more fun in the world, before time's up."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would go to lean back, "Yes. A truism. Even then with myself not on the Board I'm mostly following things through some of the intermediaries. Which probably is just as functional so long as I'm not an active participant. I think that Shaw's mostly dismissed me as any part of the games from now on beyond a mere annoyance not worth his time. And I'm quite content to let him think of me as that." She would lean back.
    "And of course she is. I merely know of her making presumptions at one. I presume there are many others." A light, amused telepathic 'tweak' would be sent to Jean <<I believe I even forwarded you the one that I was aware of, or did you not read that memo>>

Emma would 'ah' at Rogue, "I see. So the macabre events of the past as opposed tot hose of the present?"

Jean Grey has posed:
"Well, ask Betsy if she has a playroom hidden away. It wouldn't surprise me," Jean echoes back, slyly, while falling into step to drift after Rogue toward the couches. For greater relaxation in her very comfy clothes! Still, she takes a rather aggressive stance toward any attempt to minimize the Club's reputation. "There's bad histories, and there's... a pattern of mutant kidnapping and slavery. Anything good about the place is just a front, as far as I'm concerned, meant to hide whatever it's really up to- and it's never anything good."

Finally, she flops down, the motion the sort of thing that would be absolutely unwise to do with a glass in hand - so she momentarily leaves it floating in the air, and then snatches it back again once she has collapsed into the cushions. Emma gets the mental equivalent of an eyeroll back: <<That's exactly what I was referring to.>>

Quickly enough, she makes this verbal, so poor Rogue the flying brick isn't left out of their highbrow sophisticated telepaths-club business. "Apparently Selene's teamed up with some devil woman to go looting magic goodies while everyone runs around chasing angels. And it does sound like trouble, although I'm always a little concerned at trying to take on that kind of thing without someone in-the-know. You ought to tell Illyana." Then she tilts her head. "Do we even know what place they were talking about?"

Rogue has posed:
Rogue watches Jean's little trick with the glass, and smirks at it... even shakes her head gently at the display of it. Her eyes then go from the redhead, to the blonde, then back again. "God." She says softly, as she slips backward off the arm of the sofa chair and lays sideways on it now, with her knees up on one of the arms, her head going back against the other side of the chair.

"My Aunt used t'make me dress up on Sundays and take me t'Church. She made us get there at the crack'a dawn, and I just... hated it. Sunday school. Sermon fro ma crazy Preacha' fella... It's part'a why I was always wantin' t'run away. But now here we are..."

She indulges another sip of the drink, then lowers her glass again. She looks over at the two of them.

"Angels, demons, and what else causin' troubles? Maybe they were right. Maybe this /is/ the end'a times..."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would let out a sigh, "Yes, yes as she will. I'm sure that she's found plenty of other damned things to do in the interim and more we can't even comprehend. Best I fear we can do is pass along what we can gather.. And I fear that only serves whatever schemes she does as well. Never let it be siad that with age came grace." Her looking irritated over.
    "And I'll leave to your discretion if and when we have something to pass it along more specifcially. If it was as simple as blotting Selene out like a tick beneath a boot.." Well, maybe the angel invasion would be good for something. There would be a happy look on her face for a moment.
    "No, Rogue, this is not that. This is merely another pressing irritant that will be dealt with in time, with loss and unnecessary suffering. But it is not the end."

Jean Grey has posed:
"Are they any harder to believe in than a flaming cosmic bird spirit?" Jean gives Rogue a MEANINGFUL look.

"Besides. Remember that little imp we had to wrangle? And the uh, bigger version..." The GIANT DEMON ARM. That Rogue DUMPED on the local football field. "Point is, take your pick, but none of us are in any position to be surprised by much of anything, these days. And you know, I've thought about it, heading into the city to... see this creature, try and get a sense of what it wants?" She shakes her head. "But I'm a little afraid what would happen. Not for my safety but... I don't know. The kind of talk, that they were reporting in the news? Destroy it all, so you can remake things and start over? Sounds AWFUL familiar, doesn't it? So I'm not even sure..."

That the Phoenix wouldn't be on the Archangel's side, and not theirs?

She shrugs this off, and turns back to the matter of a foe slightly more recognizable in her motives. "Well, you're in the best position of any of us to keep an eye on her. So I appreciate it- and if there's any opportunity to act against her... well, let's say I don't exactly share Rogue's laissez faire view of those people. We have the chance to move? I say we take it."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue is laying over a sofa chair in her green and gold bodysuit, her legs up and her head back on the arm of the chair. She's got a brown and black leather trench coat on too that is draped down the front of the chair under her. In her right hand she holds a glass of bourbon.

"I know we've run inta a lotta weird stuff in the past few years... I'm just sayin' it feels like its rampin' up. Like the walls are bein' pushed against, and the full doors t'Hell wanna burst open any minute." She takes another sip of her drink after tipping it back toward her lips, then looks over at the two of them again.

She just grins at them both as her booted feet bounce up and down idly.

"You're not goin' t'visit any weird evil creatures less you take me with you, Red." She reminds Jean. "I went all the way across the universe t'help bring ya back once already this past year. Not gonna see some new jerk drag ya off with'em again."

Emma Frost has posed:
And as Jean would go on, Emma Frost would incline her head, "Selene isn't so much a person as she is a -thing-. A wretched abomination, a monstrocity. As near as anyone can tell she's at least ten thousand years old, very likely far older. She lives on the devoured souls of others that when she consumes them shrivels to a crisp. However many she has had.. Selene is evil. Simply that. Nothing more." Some things simply -are-.

Letting Jean go on about the Bird, and she would incline her head for a moment. "I'l lbe sure tos hare anything I can. Betsy may also have.. Subtler views than I would so she might notice things that would be out of my ability to discern."

As Rogue would go on Emma would go to wince.. then going to start to break into laughter. Going to bring her glass of bourbon up in a toast. "I believe Marie has put matters to proper perspective."

Jean Grey has posed:
"I'm not afraid of her either," Jean replies to Emma, in something of an even monotone. "And I don't mean that like... I probably should be more scared, of some of these things, all of these things maybe. But the place where those feelings should be, it's like-" She shakes her head, as if shaking it all off.

"Obviously, it's a serious matter," she concedes, regardless of any strange cosmic apathy. "So we'll have to stay alert. I just wanted you to know that I'm happy to commit the X-men to dealing with the situation. Frankly, everyone seems ready to take up arms against these angels, but if there are other beings lurking in the periphery of their attack, looking to take the opportunity to wreak their own havoc... then maybe that's the BEST thing we can do, to help. Deal with those other threats so they don't compound the problem for anyone else."

That all said, she turns back to Rogue, smiling a bit more warmly. "You're cute when you get all protective, you know that. But I'm fine. And... I won't. Part of me wants to, but I just don't think it's a good idea. At least, not as less than a last resort."

Kurt Wagner has posed:
Speaking of 'full doors t'Hell'? Kurt, too, has felt things 'ramping up', which in turn has put him into something of isolation with his prayers and his own search for his soul. He's got one, that he knows.. and by all tenents of his religion, washed clean of the sins of the past, and renouncing the murders of his mother, is made clean.

So why doesn't he quite feel it?

It's the sound that precedes Kurt, that soft pop of a *bamf* with the distinct smell of sulfur. Of, well.. hell? Where he lands isn't quite as obvious, however, as there are shadows in the room. Yellow eyes blink from his hiding spot, and soon enough, Kurt drops to the floor, landing gracefully and easily into his 'three point' before standing, or rather, slouching in his usual posture.

"Tell me you are not visiting evil creatures? They should remain where they are." His tones are gentle, fond, if not a touch distracted and .. they hold a tinge of just something else on the edge. After all, by all counts, Kurt's been acting vaguely un-Kurt-like, though not out of character. (He hasn't gone and slaughtered a village or anything!) Being a recluse is something of a shift for the normally gregarious elf.

Greeting each now in turn, he inclines his head towards Rogue, reaches for a hand to kiss for Jean, and to hear the description of a .. creature from Emma, yellow eyes widen somewhat, and that tail takes a quick back and forth whip. "Such a thing should not exist." Though, from the raised brow comes the silent 'uhhhh' in regards to fighting a heavenly host. "I am certain there are some that believe this to be the end of times, and they will happily be taken to heaven by angels.." he says softly. "Fighting that may prove difficult."

Rogue has posed:
As the two other women speak, Rogue ends up rolling over on to her side, and curling her free hand up under her head to lay on the chair like a sofa lounger sort of. She keeps her glass of alcohol readily available though. She smiles to Emma and Jean, before Kurt arrives.

Right after he bamfs in, she flutters her eyes a little, then points at Jean. "I'm always cute." She says to her with a glimmering grin before she then points to Kurt.

"And I agree with him, whatever he says on this matter out there..." Her glass holding hand now points toward the lounge door. "He's the expert on all'a this, far as I'm concerned."

Now her glass goes to her lips for another drink, though its kinda hard at this angle... she's managing though! Somehow!

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would go to twitch he rlips upwards in a smile at Jean, "There will always be catastrophies running rampant. Part of the issue of this new, interconnected world is how aware we are all of them. Imagine if things happened at the saem rate they did today thirty years ago? When no one had the faintest concept of what international phone calls. We'd all sleep much better at night." Exaggerating.

Was Emma attempting to crack a joke tht was not at someone's expense. "And yes. Als the whole.. Too many cooks spoil the meal. We throw too many assets at it, we make the issue all the mroe dangerous by disrupting one another or leaving openings that our adversaries would exploit. We've maintained open lines of communication with one another and we can redirect forces quickly. We are available. But for the students it's also importnat they have a sense of normalcy. We can't.. Maintain eternal paranoia and lockdown with no end in sight."

Her further comments cut off as Kurt would enter. "Mister Wagner, a pleasure." Emma would hold her glass of bourbon up in a casual salute. "And we are making plans to deal with said creatures if they interfere with things. The situation is well in hand." As Kurt would g on, Emma would glance at him sympathetically. "Then they need to have their perceptions corrected."

Jean Grey has posed:
At Kurt's arrival, there's an unmistakable look of delight on Jean's expression... at least once they get past the burst of sulphur part and on to the chivalrous hand-kissing, which she very much indulges. "And where've you been, hmm? Well, don't worry. Join us. We're drinking to the end of the world! Or at least, the newest version thereof." Is this blasphemy, to be so unimpressed at the threat of apocalypse? Or just familiarity.

But there's something to Kurt's own caution that does catch her, and she nods immediate agreement. "The civillian factor is a big concern, and probably worse of one for us, if we tried to involve ourselves too overtly. Can you imagine? The lot of us 'abominations' there to quibble with the true faithful? Well-" and she tips her drink in the blue elf's direction, "-of course, you of anyone can imagine. We'd almost surely be the real demons, in any of their eyes." All of these are rapidly piling up on an increasing stack of 'reasons Jean does not want to deal with any of this shit, thank you very much.'

Briefly, she looks over at her always-cute drinking buddy on the couch, but then back toward Kurt. "Rogue's right, though. You know this stuff pretty well. Do you think it's really legit? For varying defintions of the term. I'm hardly in the position to be a real atheist, any more... but I can't help but frame these things in terms of my own experiences. I can easily believe an Angel is real, and that it's here with business. But I can't really 'see' the religious side, if that makes sense? I look and just see, feel even... well, another BEING of some kind, out here in the cosmos, following its own vague agenda like so many others. If that makes any kind of sense."

One thing that helps make sense of a world gone mad is alcohol, so she takes another good sip from her glass, before finally echoing a thought of Emma's: "I've actually been considering options for removing the students to an even greater distance. Just in case. Obviously, if the world ends or the universe implodes, the 'where' doesn't matter much, but short of that... well, an hour's drive from the center of the action isn't much."

Kurt Wagner has posed:
Kurt shakes his head slowly, sadly, his tail adding to the expression in his tones as he releases Jean's hand after the brief meeting of lips to skin, "It is faith. There is no correcting of that. Und, what would you say if I told you that I believe in such a thing as well? Millions believe it. So, while all gird themselves for war, there may be those who honestly believe this is the day that they are taken to heaven. It is to those, then, that I may be of best service."

Now that he's on the floor rather than the ceiling, Kurt's in 'casual wear', that is, sweater that hearkens back to the holiday, but only in snowflake motif, slacks that have the proper hole in the back for his tail, and a pair of sneakers, again specially designed for the specially designed feet.

He smiles at Rogue, inclining his head in her direction in thanks. "I am no expert, but I do know something of what these creatures represent to the faithful."

Kurt stalks towards the kitchen area, with each step, then, a smaller *bamf* can be heard, showing off one, two, three little cherubic blue creatures that are rarely (but sometimes) seen in the mansion. Kurt's own imps. They sit on the counter, on the table, and one is eyeing the coffee ground, and with a disgusted *sniff*, utters his "bamf.." of rejection, closing the top quickly with a three-fingered hand. "'In hand' is a strange definition of this, Fraulein Frost," in keeping with the courtesy. "I have heard nothing of the protection of faith and souls. St. Patrick's cathedral has not stated a position of faith, leaving all in doubt." Of course, the rectory is remaining in the City, to work with those who do not leave.

Once he reaches the little kitchenette, he jumps onto the counter, only to have two of the three little blue imp bamfs to appear upon each shoulder like a parrot.

"Angels of the bible are not the kind, cherubic creatures one hears about in media. They are warriors of God. Powerful creatures who, in some cases, were quite jealous of the relationship of man with God. They believed they deserved the closeness, and not mere mortals. Some fallen angels only wish to be loved as we are, and others are too consumed with anger."

There is a fond, affectionate smile, rueful though it may be, given to Jean, his friend of so long. "Is it legitimate? If they are behaving in such a way, I am afraid," and here, he shrugs, causing a little spade-tailed bamf to hold on and chitter in complaint, "it may be. So, to predict their actions may be in the Good Book."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue sits up on the chair then when the little bamfs make their appearances. Something about them give her the willies! She contains it though, and just sweeps her legs around to sit normally in the chair now, her legs crossing again at the knees. "Mmmh." She says after another sip of her drink.

"I dunno. Aliens. little imps that are kinda cute..." She eyes one of Kurt's. "Somethin' about this thing makes me feel more nervous. Like it really is punishment from the heavens, or somethin'."

She shakes her head then, before smiling over at Emma. "We just gotta stick together, and punch anythin' that comes by here...."

Her eyes go to Jean and she upnods at her. "What about Moira's place in ... where was it? Scotland? She's an option to retreat to, right?" She asks then, before she looks to Kurt and grins at him.

"Get yourself some some bourbon, Mistah Snowflake." She teases him for his sweater. "Relax a bit."

She knows he won't though! Drink anyway.

Emma Frost has posed:
The bamfs themselves fascinate Emma, even as she makes not as large a deal as watching them. She would eye the still very full shot glass of bourbon, and take another light pull from it. "So what we have is popular association versus intent. Forgive me Kurt for making presumptions of those whom don't read the good book and make judgements.." Emma would rub her fingers over the bridge of her nose.

"This is marketing, darling." TO Jean. "All marketing. Public relations. All these things of how you present things, hwo they get observed.. How they get reacted to. You can get an ad agency that can do focus groups on it if you like. But it mostly comes down to the obvious elements and they're quite depressingly obvious." Emma would not take another pull.

"So we have the comfort of knowing that everyone will make the same assumption that we expect them to and very little we can do will convince them otherwise, and no matter what the circumstances will be taken in the worst possible light." That backupschool did sound better and better now didn't it?

Emma would look at the bamfs. Ending her distressing chain of thought with something a bit more jovial. Much in the same way as anything seen on Gabby's phone would no doubt end in the same way as.
    "But, let us unless necessary save the historionics for later. We have one another's company, there appears to be no immediacy to whatever prophecized calamity that will end existence and remake it unto a new one this evening. We have one another's company and most importantly a lovely vintage of alcohol that we are not obligated to restock."

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean shows just the slightest bit of a wince, and shakes her head. "I know you do, Kurt. I didn't mean to suggest those people are wrong for thinking this might be, well, everything they've always been told it will be. I just suppose... we have a little more experience with certain things, enough to look at this and say that, well, maybe there's more to it? That the live-action version is a crazy thing in comparison."

The bible didn't mention a band of wizards, flyimg aliens with capes, and a dude with a Bat fetish showing up to punch God's angels, after all.

"One way or another, we're off script. That's the bottom line. I can believe he's an angel here intent mto judge us, but, well, maybe he's a little off script too?" She listens, and then nods along, gesturing an empty little circle in the air as Kurt describes those more jealous, fearsome warrior-angels. "Right. Maybe it's something like that. I know... The cosmic order isn't as orderly as might be comfortable for humans to think about." Frolicking mini-Kurts seem as good a represetnation of THAT concept as anything, so she again gestures vaguely toward their antics.

"So if it's judgment and punishment, I can't readily accept its quite so unviersal as all of that. After all, he's here to judge a bunch of humans, when there are... what, trillions, maybe quadrillions of intelligent beings scattered across so many galaxies, stars, planets?" She shakes her head. "And if that judgment is indiscriminate, biased, well-" Ultimately, she defers to Rogue's advice with a hand upheld toward her. The 'punching' method.

"Muir island is a possibility," she then quickly concedes, changing topics. "I'll ask Charles to give her a call. See what things are like over there. And until we have that sorted..." Well, she tips a glass up to Emma, and then knocks what's left in it back. Another sign of agreement!

Kurt Wagner has posed:
The moment Rogue mentions that the imps are cute, one disappears from Kurt's left shoulder, and reappears atop the back of the chair in a little cloud of rotten-eggs. "Bamf?" He hangs down slightly, blinking little yellow pupilless eyes at Rogue. "Bamf.. bamf.."

"That is Larry," Kurt offers in explanation. He thinks you are also cute," is added with a hint of a smile breaking through. Of course, that means that the little imp is also reaching for that brandy glass...

"Punishment from heaven?" Kurt shrugs again, though this time, the bamf that had complained is now gone from his shoulder, and the other one has learned to ride the waves, as it were! "Maybe. But they are coming to punish sin and take those saved home. Perhaps that is something that can be used?" Kurt doesn't know, he really doesn't. "If they were sent by God, then I would believe such a thing. After all, there was flood, plagues und.. cities that burned and fell in the past." Catechism, 101.

Kurt reaches up a three-fingered hand to touch his crucifix that is always present before he lets it drop. "In other words, Fraulein Frost, ja. But it makes it easier, because it is predictable."

Kurt looks to Jean and nods once in her direction, and as if in answer to one of his own thoughts, "It would be easier for one like Jean to predict, und thus, be ready."

That said, however, Kurt shakes his head, "I am not leaving. I will be at St Patrick's, if none of us joins me. If some do to aid those in greatest need, they are most certainly welcome. Sadly, however, this is not 'off script'. This is very much in keeping with the stories."

Kurt shakes his head again; he's the peacemaker, fighting only when there is nothing left. And even then...

"Muir Island, I am certain, will be open. If you like, I can call also. It will be nice to hear her voice again."

Rogue has posed:
Rogue just listens to the three of them, all of them a bit more in the know on this kidn of stuff than she is. But she does look over to Jean when the punchy part is brought up. "I'm ready for it... gettin' more ready with every sip." She says then as she takes another sip indeed.

That's when the Bamf shows up behind her, the scent making it obvious. She looks back over her shoulder at him, pale green eyes locked on his. "You got good taste then." She tells him before he makes a play for her drink!

"Ah ah ah... don't you dare, lil fella." She says next before putting her hand over the drink and moving to stand up. She reaches out to flick one of his ears lightly before walking toward the kitchen herself now.

"I'm ready t'get out there and mix it up with some random more assholes, be it 'on script' or 'off script'. I'm just so sick'a this crap. Can't we get even one year of just... bein' like... Zen?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma Frost would take a breath, "Well,w e all live in interesting times. And let us hope we add to those interesting ones." She would muse. "And I guess that this particular incidentw asn't something that was propheciszed in whatever incantation was written down or taken from word." Emma seems to have reached a happy medium over with her alcohol and would look much more relaxed now as she would consider.
    Not knocking this one back yet, enjoyig the sensation of perfect equilibrium of mood and alcohol and savoring it while it would last. And her mood would bubble over. "A good one. I like the idea of backup facilities. For the future they could lways be used as satellite campuses or mor especialized ones as the student body expands and more room is needed." A way to look towards things hpefully.

Emma is watching at Kurt now as he would speak, inclining her head and then she would take a breath. "Helping to those in need is our greatest calling, along with protecting those under our care. Do what you feel is best and gives you the ability to help the greatest number aid." At the mention of St. Patrick's.. Well, Jean would pick up from Emma's mind a suppressed thought over 'reconoitter the enemy position' that would be brushed aside. That wasn't appropriate to ask Kurt to do.

Emma would sigh at Rogue's comment, "Don't make that specific request. Philosophically or metaphorically." Equilibrium upset, Emma returns to alcohol to try and find it once more.

Jean Grey has posed:
"Is Batman in those stories?" Jean asks Kurt, although now, she's clearly teasing, making a quick joke in the midst of more serious contemplation.

"For my part, I reserve skepticism that he's here on... higher orders, as it were. If only because that suggests a clarity and predictability to the cosmos that runs contrary to my own recent experience. I know, it's rather heathen, pagan, polytheistic, whatever other blasphemy you might want to call it... but I've seen things, Kurt. Experienced things. Met the man in the tower of the white city, stood in the room at the-" As she speaks, her words get increasingly dreamy, her tone distant, until she suddenly snaps back, shaking her head.

She looks at Kurt, giving him a helpless smile. "I'm sure they are angels. But the God of Thunder lives on 5th Avenue, and the incarnation of life's perpetual cycle lives in my goddamn head- ah, 'scuse the language." But her expression actually suggests she finds the slip funny, cheeks dimpling, and also reddening a bit by now. Just what everyone needs, a drunken firebird.

In any case, this declaration is met with her rising to her feet as well. "I think its better if you go and, well, do whatever you need there, without us." At the same time, her mind is echoing back at Emma in the negative, or in agreement with her own later negation. "Well, without -me-. Maybe we both have things to ask this... being, but I think we speak two very different languages."

Kurt Wagner has posed:
"It is, in fact, written in the Good Book," Kurt whispers, his voice loud enough to carry, but still a soft sound. Even the bamf that sits upon his shoulder perks and ear to make sure he hears correctly.

An exhale exits the elf soon after, however, and he slides down from the counter, his tail hanging down, the spaded end almost touching the ground.

Larry, for his point, *bamfs* from his spot and makes to land upon Rogue's shoulder. She's got the little guy until he finds himself singlularly unwelcome. There's a soft sound of disappointment, then a *beh* as he makes to sign that he didn't want it anyway. In those amber yellow eyes, expressive even if there are no pupils, marks the intent of gaining drink.. that drink later.

"I don't think that 'mixing it up' will result in a victory. Particularly if they are bent on saving those of kind heart and soul." Though, as far as he's concerned, the mission and objective of the X-Men go hand in hand helping 'the least of these'.

"I would love 'zen', though, Rogue," Kurt smiles; he's finding his own peace in the midst of chaos. It's where he lives, where he's happiest. "I will take you sailing. You und me against the sea. Perhaps sail to Scotland when this is done?"

Jean's basic 'parting of ways' where this is concerned does give him a sense of heaviness, a touch of sadness tinges those yellow eyes, and he nods. "God does not say there are no others, He simply says 'me first'," is reminded. It's the way he works out the entire cosmology in his head and manages to keep his faith. The one thing that has saved him time and time and time again. He does offer up a genuinely affectionate smile before his feet touch ground again. "I will be there. I will also let Daytripper know," his foster sister and best friend who is now in New York City, "Und Logan. I may convince him to join me."

With that suggestion, he looks to his smaller, naked versions, and nods before *bamf*, he's gone. For those who know, who can follow his presence when he lands, he's found his destination upon the parapets on the roof of the building, perching with the gargoyles, looking out onto the grounds of Xavier's.

Rogue has posed:
Rogue wads up a paper towel and lobs it at Jean when she gets starry eyed and distant speeched! "Hey!" She says, snapping her fingers. "Stay here, with me." She orders the redhead. Jean has helped Rogue a lot with her mind problems, and the Belle is damn sure gonna pay it back, one way or another.

When she leans back from the throw, she sees that Larry the Bamf is on her shoulder. It makes her smirk but she just turns around, downs the rest of her drin,, then pushes her hair back behind her shoulders. "I would love t'go sailin' with ya, especially if its sunny an' warm..." She says to Kurt as she turns around, but he's already gone.

"That guy..." She mutters with a heavy exhale.

"I'm gonna go to the Danger Room, bring up some stuff t'punch. I feel like workin' off some steam'a my own, come t'think of it." She says then with a sly grin to Jean and Emma, checking to see if Larry is still on her shoulder as she goes for the door now, her trench coat swaying behind her as she walks.

Emma Frost has posed:
The back and forth at this point has Emma following the dynamics of the conversation in silence. Her tracking the mannerisms of the redhead telepath.. Well, likely due to her state of inebriation or distraction means she gets very little from it that's not caught up in Jean's body language. And also possibly the common sense to not try and pry on the mindscape of one with a soused cosmic passenger in tow.
    Life keeps on becoming more difficult, doesn't it? And Emma would let out a sigh and glance at Rogue with a 'do you need help' expression on her face.. But ultimately it was not her place given the friendship between the two and her own sense of.. Not having the same sort of friendship with the others. And here it was.. The others going about and her too damned sober as they would depart.
    So Emma Frost would close her eyes, look at the bottle, look at her glass.. Sigh.. And then go to put it away. Then going to take teh seat where she had started the evening.. Pulling up the laptop once more, her mood passed, and continuing on that which she had started with.
    The devil was in the details, after all.