9843/Pierogis, Portals, and Problem-Solving

Pierogis, Portals, and Problem-Solving
Date of Scene:	26 January 2022
Location:	Yuri's Borscht Hut
Synopsis:	Sharing news and warding the best Russian restaurants.
Cast of Characters:	Illyana Rasputina, Kurt Wagner, James Proudstar

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Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Manhattan hasn't fallen, merely proven emptied of those who can leave. Those who cannot suffer unknown but easily guessed fates. Westchester County stands beyond the line in the sand at least. No thanks to SHIELD or angry mutant teenagers. Probably has something to do with the whims of an archangel.

Though today, a Hell-Lord might make the difference. Yuri's is a quiet place and the gentleman serves up borscht and pierogis with Russian black bread. Therefore, a haven for the Siberian blonde sitting outside in the cold with the bowl filled with hearty borscht. Illyana wears a light coat and long boots, spooning the soup to her lips. It might be piping hot, but she barely notices.

After a few mouthfuls, the bowl is set aside on the snowy picnic table that no one's bothered with since the last snowfall. Then she rises, her pants supple and faintly glossy, as she reaches for a handful of pebbles from her coat pocket, and a sprig of fir. Breaking the needles produces a heady resin scent to the air, and she throws them in a fan.

Horrors! Littering!

Kurt Wagner has posed:
Kurt has taken many, many.. many trips to St Patrick's in the meantime, in search of.. something, anything that might tip him off. Ever watchful for the Angel, he has remained, at least for now, quite under the radar. Who knows for how long? And, that assumes that the Angel wants anything to do with him. How is he a threat? Why would he be a threat to the Heavenly Host to whom he's asked for favors over the years?

The empty threats have been made to the bamfs; they're to remain home, unless, of course, they're called to act as babysitters for the small Russian army that is Yuri's brood. Kurt is dressed in winter coat, jaunty scarf that looks like it's there for show as much as it is for warmth, boots that are cut to his standard when he does appear with a *bamf*, the opening and closing of that teleport ring that he is known so well for. A few trudging footsteps are taken through the snow, and when he meets with Illy, he's got a warm smile on his face. "You know, you are allowed to be warm. Mein pierogi will freeze the moment they come outside." There's a pause as he considers exactly //what// came out of his mouth, but he continues, "Und the gravy will congeal. Not a pleasant fate."

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar is not a Kryptonian but he does alright especially where Russian Hell-Lord's and Kentucky Cannonballs and a few others are concerned. That is what leads him to the Borscht place in Westchester on a cold Wednesday morning. He is wearing a down vest, long sleeve thermal henley, raw denim and of course workboots. He looks a bit drawn, tired. He gets coffee and the Colossus platter, it is nice to be understood. He is still healing from his recent run in with a Wendigo, showing scrapes and a few bruises.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana sprinkles the broken evergreen needles in another line that intersects the first as an irregular arc. Her head turns when the portal etched in brimstone opens, and with her palm extended and two fingers curled, the gesture could be greeting or defensive. Forth comes the blue elf. Any principled spark of magic hauled from the black abyss swivels to another purpose. Her frosty eyes look past Kurt's shoulder for a moment, then track inward to his face. With an upnod of greeting, she says, "Balmy, da? The borscht will be fine."

A couple of steps convey her away from the restaurant, giving a wide berth to the steps, and she drops the first pebble. It lands in the snow, innocuously occupying a chilly den alongside last year's leaves and this year's dirt. A second palmed from her pocket ends up tossed up against the restaurant. Littering, for shame. Not that this remotely seems to concern her as she saunters according to her Russian whims. Do Russians /have/ whims that aren't mordant and dark as the earth of the motherland? Her gaze ticks after James heading inside, another upnod for him not meant to interrupt the man seeing to the essentials. Food is food.

"You going inside or staying?" is asked of Kurt. For no questionable reason except the fourth and fifth scattered pebbles link up the nigh-invisible lines of a geometric ward.

Kurt Wagner has posed:
There has never been anything that has followed Kurt from the Brimstone other than his own bamfs, and they're usually attached to the big blue bamfer like little fuzzy, naked demon-shaped remoras. The greeting is pretty much along the lines that he's come to expect from his 'once young and now older than the universe' charge, and his warm smile doesn't falter. His tail does, however, slouch a little and curl around his legs for a little bit of body-heat warmth. "I have grown soft since coming here. I like heat. Und, if we are to be outside, then a fire is in order?"

Though, all this sort of begs the question, and pupilless amber eyes narrow in prelude to his question even has his hands are shoved into coat pockets. "What are you doing? The answer to that will decide my answer to yours."

James' somewhat rough manner, that is, fatigued state gains a look of empathy from the good elf. "Guten Morgen, mein freund," is given as the man enters the restaurant. Out of the cold.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar returns with coffee for everyone, and small smile, "Morning Kurt, Ly." He takes a deep breath, and nods, "You warding the place for yourself or for Yuri?" He tilts his head with the question and sits on the snowy bench without remark on the weather.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana's tolerance for the bamfs extends wherever Kurt may roam, since they prove relatively harmless to her. Wisely so; the Demon Queen isn't an epithet for her. Her thin grasp on her humanity still shapes that cool and restrained way. No fidgeting here from her, that watchful nature enduring even when at rest. Hint, she lacks any 'at rest' setting. Poor conditions for cold weather and numbing temperatures might make it easier to slouch by the restaurant, to gain a little of the ambiant warmth.

She raises her wrist, flicking a gesture that leaves a deep blue glyph hanging in the air. The edges bleed, shimmering as reality coalesces to her unspoken command.

"A no trespassing sign," she says. "Like they have in flowers." A spin of the little grey pebble leaves it floating above her palm, reflecting the light of the rune. "Here, da. Maybe half the county."

Kurt Wagner has posed:
Kurt is more than familiar with warding magic; his foster sister/best friend is a sorceress. It's just not a look that he's seen very often in Illyana. In his experience, it's always best to ask, rather than assume when it comes to the blonde Russian. The cold air is making his tail colder, and he pulls it in and under his jacket, wrapping it around his waist for more body-heat.

"'Please do not walk on the grass' sign. Only for the entire county." He nods slowly, and takes that half-step back, searching the ground for those pebbles thrown. Regardless of what sort of circle it may be, the elf doesn't like being in the middle of them. Bad things can happen, and have!

"James," comes in greeting, and there is coffee! Stepping sideways, careful to be out of Illy's way, he accepts the coffee graciously, a quick nod in thanks before he adds, "Danke, this is perfect. I have given up on the idea of pierogi. Perhaps burgers. Later." Indoors.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar hold's Illyana's coffee until she is done with the warding she is in the middle of. Sipping his own. He nods and smiles to Kurt, "You're very welcome it's good to see you. Nori, my grandmother has spoken to the Thunderbird who is petitioning Gaia, apparently it's a whole thing... " He rolls his shoulders in a who knew sort of gesture. James watches Illyana with a sort of withdrawn regard, the only magick he knows about is Magik's and he has to wait for the tray, he doesn't seem to mind the cold, whether that is a gift of size or mutant stamina is an honest question. "Tabby left... again. Least she left a note." He smiles sadly and sighs, "Sorry, bit of topic."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
A breath of air taken in fills Illyana's lungs and burns the delicate tissue. Her chest lifts at the pressure of holding it, and she flicks her wrists in a tight circle to settle the spell. The pebble drops like the stone it is, bouncing off in the snow, and the sigil evaporates into nothingness.

Air pops in a pressure change, the spell snapping into place and serving as a small island of protection. No harm to either man, at least, unless they happen to be angelic or a dispossessed creature of another dimension. Her fingers curl, flexing, as she goes to recover the cooling bowl of borscht. Kurt and James have their coffee options, she has beets and dark happiness in a bowl. Dumping a bit of black bread in, she spoons the soup into her mouth. "You cannot go without pierogi and be at Yuri's," she says after finishing. "It is... Sacrilege, but for food?"

She doesn't speak for a while after mention of Tabitha leaving. "Best not to take personal, da?" The response comes a long time later. Minutes. "Not you, is it?"

Kurt Wagner has posed:
Nope, not angelic in nature. In fact, almost the opposite, even if it's not something that Kurt advertises it. There's a reason why he travels through a Brimstone dimension, why his tail looks as it does.. and please don't ask him how he came into possession of those bamfs. Not a topic of conversation he'd be willing to get in to.

Even the fuzzy elf has his secrets.

The feeling of magic as it finally comes into being makes all the blue fur stand up, giving him something of a puffy look, if only for that millisecond. Like, a full-body chill of goose-bumps. Once it does pass, Kurt takes another swallow of his rapidly cooling caffeine with that need to find warmth on the inside.

"If we go inside, I will buy some; at least to bring home." Lucky for him, they won't get cold on the way back! "Perhaps for all for tonight." No one does take-out better than Kurt.

There, the reason for the general feel of moroseness is given voice. Kurt had noticed the absence; he looks for people. "Did she leave angry?" Read: Is she okay? "At least you are outside. But, I am sorry, mein freund. It is never an easy thing."

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar raises his eyebrows, placing the coffee next to Yana's bowl. He shrugs, "Well, we had moved in together, there was a ring. Not THAT ring, just a statement of us moving closer into something more permanent... I thought she was okay, but you know how she can be, skittish." He pauses, his voice quieter, "I really thought we were passed this. I mean I'm not shocked but at the same time-" he sighs, "It has been a rough year."

    That's when Yuri comes out into the cold with the tray, shaking his head. "To this one cold is life, and he is too young to know better, But you comrade Wagner, come inside and warm yourself!" Jim rises to his feet with a speed and grace that make intercepting the large Russian easy. "Spasiba." Jim says with a nod and takes the tray, large and filled with a variety of Russian foods, all Piotr's favorites, including a big plate of various pierogies, which Jim placs between himself and the elf. "No, not angry, she left like she always does, it's too serious, too much, too fast." James smiles, "Thanks Kurt, I appreciate it." He takes the bowl of borsht and slurps before grabbing a spoon and digging in, James it seems is not nearly so demure as the Queen. The pelmeni are next.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
One can look seraphic and be the furthest thing from it. There are the likes of Michael and Gabriel, and then the various demons and devils of Hell. The mutants have their own dark lady, be as it is.

"Go in," she encourages, still holding the bowl and not in a rush either way. It's fairly easy for them to stay out of doors, but if they wish to go in, she won't stop them. Her breath steams, barely. Those pale eyes mark Kurt's offer and his cold tail, then nods to the side to encourage further action if needed.

"Da, sometimes... choice means thinking. She will come back. Maybe after conversation, da?"

Growing up, who can trust her to know such things? "Give time and chance. Kurt is right, not easy but then we never are."

Kurt Wagner has posed:
Kurt nods slowly, his shoulders hunched (moreso) against the cold. "Ladies, mein freund, are never easy to understand, but it is our job und our responsibility to love them regardless." That advice goes for pretty much every make and model of relationship as far as Kurt is concerned. Something he tries to follow, but like all, he is fallible. "There will be time enough und time again."

Yuri's offer of coming indoors and getting warm is greeted with a warm, wide, sharp-toothed grin of pleasure. "Herr Yuri! I think I will take you on your offer," is returned with a quick glance at Illyana. His gaze lingers there, yellow eyes to pale blue before he gives her a warm, fond smile. "I will. Und bring things home for us all. See you both there?" He takes in James, too, then with the offer. "If you need an ear, James.." and he points to his pointed one, "I am very good at listening."

With that, Kurt follows the large Russian (who MUST be a Cossack) back into the restaurant, his tail still tucked within his jacket for warmth.

James Proudstar has posed:
James Proudstar shrugs, and nods, "Time will tell, maybe. She usually does." He smiles and his eyes linger on the Yana for a moment as Kurt speaks. He smiles and looks down at his food. The borscht is finished, and the pelmeni are mostly gone, he pulls the pierogi tray back towards himself. "Time enough." He nods, and slips into the amicable quiet of two long time friends as he polishes the tray off. "It is good to see you."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
"She is never far." Then again, for a girl with no concept of space or time given her native connection to a plane she can outright embody, Yana is not the right person to judge this! No one wisely trusts her on that, right? She drags her hand over her hair. "I am going to hunt monsters. My contribution. Anyone needs escape, you tell me?"

Her movements are swift and certain, struck with a cold efficiency as James picks up the tray. "Do not be rash. Da? Things are coming, and changing."

And with that, she flicks her fingers and the slanting portal opens in a wash of flame. Beyond the flame, a war.