Owner	Pose
Satana	With a glass of blood red wine in hand, Satana finishes her preparations at last, the pentagram outlined on the floor, the candles lit and all the other little details taken care of. She idly swirls the glass, sending that rich red liquid spinning up the side of it though not quite sloshing over. Then she begins to chant, strange words of power filling the otherwise comfortable room with their dark intonations. At first there is no apparent effect, but finally a column of dark smoke begins to ooze up from the floor in the middle of that pentagram, forming a sort of opaque column. And then that smoke abruptly disappates leaving what looks to be a very confused looking figure standing there. While there are definite demonic features, he does not look like the typical example of his breed. "Kurt Wagner," she says, drawing out each syllable of his name rather sensuously. "I have a bone to pick with you."
Kurt Wagner	It was such a good day too. The sun was shining, there was nary a cloud in the sky and Kurt Wagner -- the Incredible Nightcrawler --had parked himself down by Breakstone Lake on the mansion's estate, idly dipping one toe in the still cool waters as he loses himself in a book. Not a bad way to pass the time at all. At least until a misty shroud starts to surround him, the inky black smoke not unlike the little clouds he leaves behind when he bamfs. But this one lingers, and he most definitely was not trying to teleport himself anywhere. He waves a hand in front of his face as if trying to clear that inky smoke to no effect, that cloud seeming to cling to him despite all his efforts. Finally he gives in and tries to take a step forward. That seems to help, the dark shroud of mist surrounding him starting to rapidly vanish. The problem? His forward progress is abruptly stopped as if he was stepping into an invisible wall and he gives a little pained grunt of surprise. Glancing downward, he can see the drawn pattern on the ground beneath him -- definitely not the grassy little knoll he can been sitting just moments before and snapping his gaze up he catches a glimpse of his unlikely captor. "What the--" he starts before abruptly cutting off.
Satana	"Hell? What the hell? That was what you were going to say, wasn't it?" Satana practically purrs, slowly walking around the perimeter of that pentagram on the floor. While she has a look that is fairly human in appearance, she has gone with her much more demonic look today. Not that it isn't just as flattering in its own way of course. Though she doesn't necessarily expect her unwilling guest to find it so at the moment. Though a girl does always like to be appreciated. "You shouldn't be so surprised, my little fuzzy blue elf. You are part demon afterall, and the demonic is most certainly my purview. That means that I can summon you up when I choose," she says, that wheedling note entering her voice once more. Though it might not make her words seem any less a threat. "As I said," she continues on huskily. "I've got a bone to pick with you. Your tiny little duplicates can be quite the pain and they have been making quite the mess of my little corner of the underworld as of late. Your father's more so, admittedly, but I figured it was better to deal with the little fishy first before moving onto the sporting game," she purrs, turning away for a moment, walking over to a nearby table. And when she turns back, she holds a gilded cage, a quartet of adorable little Bamfs looking very morose as they cling to those golden bars that trap them. "So, Mr. Wagner. We must come to an accord. I want you to keep your little imps away from my personal space. You'll find that I can be very agreeable when you keep me happy," she points out, swaying back over towards the pentagram that keeps the mutant teleporter hostage.
Kurt Wagner	There is a faint look of disbelief on Kurt's features as that inky shroud dissipates and he finds himself trapped in a pentagram of all things, lifting his hands up to press against that unseen barrier that traps him. "I would never use such language in front of a lady," the fuzzy blue elf says gallantly. "Clearly I was going to say 'Heck'. What the heck," he suggests with a tight lipped smile. There really isn't anything funny about the current circumstances that he finds himself in, of course, but there's also no reason to lose one's head either. His first gambit is the most obvious one. Naturally enough, Kurt attempts to teleport himself free. There is that tell-tale 'Bamf' noise and an inky cloud of sulfurous mist envelops him for a moment. But when it clears, the fuzzy blue elf finds himself still very much trapped in his mystical prison. "This... this isn't supposed to be possible. I'm told that I am far more mutant then demon, that summonings shouldn't work on me," he expresses, just a hint of dismay in his voice. He might not be a practioner, but he was raised by one, he calls her daughter -- his foster sister -- one of his best friends afterall. He knows his magic pretty good. And he doesn't like just what the implications of all of this truly are. While he is not in a good situation, something she says catches his attention. "You know my father?" he asks, a hint of curiousity entering his voice now. His investigations into his past have revealled enough for him to suspect his demonic origins. But they haven't revealled everything, not yet. So the fact that she knows something of where he comes from is intriguing. Though this might not be the time. "And as to the Bamfs, what makes you think that they'll listen to me? They're fundamentally harmless. There's no reason to scare them like that," he says mildly, eyeing the quartet of fuzzy little imps in their gilded cage.
Satana	"So polite," the daughter of the devil purrs once again, a smile curving over her lips. "I do appreciate a man who can mind his manners," she confesses, striking a playful pose that might have a little more effect if she wasn't currently keeping the man captive in her summoning circle. When Kurt tries to teleport himself free, Satana gives a husky little laugh, amusement dancing through those eyes. "Oh, I'm afraid there is no escape for you my sweet. At least not until I decide to let you go at any rate. And I won't be doing that until we come to a... mutually satisfying agreement," she points out, licking her lips suggestively. "So, lets stop playing games and sort all of this out, hmmm?" she suggests archly. Though it seems unlikely that she can stop playing. She's very much like a cat with a mouse. "Oh, Mr. wagner. You have more influence over your little pets then you could know. All I'm asking is that you... exercise a little of it to keep them out of my hair. It's to both of our advantages afterall," Satana says, lifting up the cage in hand and giving it a little shake as the tiny Bamfs inside go tumbling about with little cries of protest. "I have no desire to take... sterner measures to deal with the infestation. They are rather adorable in their own way. Mischevious really, which I can appreciate. When that mischief is not unleashed in my own domain. Do say you'll try?" she says, that wheedling note creeping back into her voice. She gives a low, sultry laugh when he asks about his father, wagging a finger at him playfully. "That is quite another matter and outside the confines of our current discussion. But if you would like a little more information about dear old dad and where you come from, I'm sure we could make a deal that would be mutually satisfying," she teases, arching a finely sculpted brow.
Kurt Wagner	When this is all said and done he is most definitely going to have to seek out a friendly magical type and find out a little more about his situation -- and see if there is anything he can do from being yoinked about by anyone with a little sway over demons. Or perhaps she's just a special case. Really, he's not sure what's worse. He doesn't want just anyone conjuring him up at will, but if she's a special case there might not be any particular defense. And that is a daunting proposition to be sure. For his part, Kurt doesn't let any of those concerns or doubts show on his expression. But it's a challenge. Under other circumstances he might enjoy the bantering -- not to mention the view, demonic or not. But the fuzazy blue elf knows much better then to put any trust in a demon, no matter how fetching she might appear on the surface. Again, one of the advantages of his unique upbringing. "Mmmmm, I think I will pass on making any additional deals. No offense to you, but I'm not so convinced that I would enjoy the outcome as much as you," he notes sardonically. "I will just have to look into the matter of my parentage all on my own," he says with a smile and a sweeping bow, still playing the old-fashioned gentleman even now. As she drops her little knowledge bomb about the Bamfs, Kurt arches his own brow consideringly. For the most part he has always regarded them with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. They've proven useful a time or two, but much more often they tend to wreck a little havoc around the school. And while he might assert that he has no influence over them, their appearance as miniature versions of himself does make that argument a hard sell amongst his friends. "I cannot say that I have ever found that to be the case, but I will certainly do my best to keep them on a shorter leash if you say that I can," he allows. "My word of honor," he says, lifting a hand and placing it over his heart as he offers a cheeky smile.