Owner	Pose
Kurt Wagner	Winter in Westchester is always cold. It's always been cold, and always will be cold. Today, though, boasts an added bit of fun; nor'easter is being tracked, and is bound to hit in the next 24 hours. So, it's battening down the hatches, but for the bamfster, it means that he's bundled up, and just.. sitting on the rooftop, watching the skies. It's a habit for him, or has become one. With a dear friend who is, for intents and purposes, a weather goddess, he's a touch more familiar with patterns; the ebbs and flows of the swirls of air around him. That, well, and he enjoys sitting very much like the gargoyles that line the roof. The younger students have started to learn that if they spot the living, breathing 'gargoyle', they get an added little 'something' in class. It teaches them an important lesson- always look up. Be aware of your surroundings. Obviously, he has no wings like they, but he does blend in. Crouched upon the edge, then, his tail low, spade-tip just tick-tick-ticking idly, pupilless yellow eyes look out on the landscape that is Xavier's, and beyond. Lovely sight. Trees, fields, and beyond, the mountains.
Michael Erickson	It is always cold. And it is always strange. And lo, an angel comes.     Descending from the sky, made entirely of gleaming red metal, a winged figure comes down from on high to arrive at the end of the roof not far from where Kurt Wagner crouches. But this is no angel from heaven, Biblically accurate or otherwise - equal parts medical anatomical model and hood ornament, stylized and weirdly biomechanical, the wings vanelike and tipped with razors as they extend from the backs of its arms. An angel from beyond, its single eye a long, v-shaped visor set in its featureless face. Glowing with purple light, as does the diamond-shaped stone set in its chest. Alien.     The voice that emits fom its body is distorted, strange as its apperance - but it is familiar. << Herr Wagner, >> comes the voice of the Shi'ar who calls himself 'Michael Erickson', and who teaches Astronomy (among other things) on campus. The one who aided last year when his own people attempted to murder Jean and her family. << Good day to you. >>
Kurt Wagner	To be very honest, the appearance of a winged being is both familiar and foreign. After all, Warren is an 'angel', and then there's the Phoenix, with whom he's simply sort of //felt// her presence and power. Yellow eyes look up, and there, angel and devil converge upon the roof of Xavier's. Curiousity plays upon his face; he's not afraid. He has a ready-made way to disappear, not that he would if he thought for a moment that the school was in danger. Why would he escape, leaving behond those he loves, those for whom he holds great responsibility? He wouldn't. Instead, Kurt takes a step away from the edge, unfolding himself from the 'lurk' that closely approximated those stone, silent gargoyles. His head cants at the words, amber eyes narrowing as he tries to place them. "Ja.. Guten Tag, mein Herr.." It's tentative, that 'Do I know you?' playing in his tones before the recognition begins to fill into the cold brain. Only then, does the wariness begin to fade, all seen in manner and mien as he relaxes. "Hello, mein freund. Is everything alright?"
Michael Erickson	There is no mythological presence here with the winged figure, just the strangeness of its appearance - which vanishes, suddenly, in a flare of cold purple light to reveal the man whose voice emitted from its body. Dressed in a thick, fur-lined winter jacket and military fatigues, both black, and a heavy gray scarf. He looks like he just walked off the field.     "Sorry about that," he explains, then. "I figured it would be faster to fly." The grim man looks out across the grounds, then, the woods beyond. Distant mountains, as 'mountainous' as New York gets. "Lovely country out here."
Kurt Wagner	There is, however, that 'mythological presence' here in the form of the demonic-looking Kurt. He does tic all the boxes, after all. Blue, fuzzy, pointed ears, sharpened teeth, yellow eyes that hold no pupils, three fingers, two toes.. and one certainly can't ever miss the presence of that three foot prehensile tail, tipped at the end with the shape of a spade. Even now, he does cause some to start, to double take.. even when he's at his kindest, gentlest.. which is a good portion of his time. A demon with a soul.. well, most of a soul. Pushing hands into his pockets to warm them, Kurt shakes his head, the warm smile rising to his features. "Forgive me for not recognizing you. Und, it is," is easily agreed. "When I travel, I usually do not even get the benefit of the view from above." His smile shifts to something a touch more wry, humor holding it. Twisting around to look at the panorama beyond, Kurt nods quickly, his tail twitching, ostensibly to keep warm. "Close enough to home." He turns yellow eyes back to Michael, the smile looking a little worn, "I am finding I dislike cities more und more. Cramped. Crowded. Noisy. Which," and he exhales in a sigh, "means that it is there that I should turn my energy."
Michael Erickson	He nods, once. "I tend not to come in armor," he says with a nod. "It's one thing for the kids to know I belong to the species that tried to kill them all last year. Quite another to shove it in their faces." Michael crouches now, too, apparently quite unbothered by Kurt's appearance - after all, he's led stranger-looking fellows into battle in his time, former officer of a galactic empire and all.     "You get used to it, in any case. The cities. Though I find that you're right. For me, it's space, now that I can go thanks to the suit. I hadn't seen space for...oh, almost fifty years. Nice, sometimes, to just float in the void." He quirks a grave smile, now. "Of course, I won't ever go back home - home. To the Empire. I hear it's been a while since you've been home, too."
Kurt Wagner	Kurt's head unconsciously goes up, his face to the sky as Michael speaks about space, and it tilts to the side in askance as he lowers it once more to his companion. "It is difficult to conceive as space being 'home'. That a void would be comforting," is murmured. "For me, it is small towns, the sounds of children playing und laughing. Music." The idealized version of his childhood, without the //bad// creeping in to ruin it all. "I am glad you can go home. That is sehr important," is followed quickly, the smile returning. There is something wistful about the words however, and Michael pretty much hits upon it. Kurt chuckles, the sound soft and throaty, "Ja, it has been awhile," is admitted. "There has been no time." Not to mention that he is still sort of on the 'watch lists'. He's kind of a persona non-grata back home. That, and well, the acceptance of mutants in the back valleys and forests of his own home is not at an all time high.
Michael Erickson	"Space isn't home," he says with a chuckle. "Chandilar is. Was. I'm forever banned from there, now, thanks to last year's excitement. Traitors get banned, if not murdered." Michael gives the other man a wink. "The point I'm making is that neither of us have been home in a long time. And of course, I know you're Catholic, and since I was in Magdeburg last night..."     Michael reaches into his coat and produces a small case of clear plastic, in which is contained a small model - something for tourists, perhaps, but it is a well-made rendition of St. Sebastian's cathedral. "I picked this up for you. We weren't in the city but for a few hours, but..." He shrugs. "I thought you might like to see something fom the home country."
Kurt Wagner	Kurt looks immediately sympathetic to hear the news. Something he understands, and his heart does go out to the man.. bird.. guest from another world. "It is not easy," is agreed, "but, with friends, you will find a new family und a reason with purpose." He shakes his head quickly, "We would not like to see that, so here you will stay." He does cant his head, brows rise, and that fuzzy blue face certainly does show more than a bit of surprise. Not at the knowledge of his being Catholic; that's pretty much understood and (mostly) accepted. But? "You were in Magdeburg?" The word is pronounced with the German intonations, the familiar sound of 'home' attached to it. While not the city proper, but.. home. Reaching out for it, Kurt does look grateful, and his tones sound the warmth. "That is very kind," is whispered. "Danke schoen for thinking of me."
Michael Erickson	"Oh, this planet became my home a while ago, I think," Michael replies, smiling back at the man. "And I have purpose. And friends. I've spent more time of this planet than I ever did in the Empire." He shrugs. "So. I'll defend this place, instead."     A nod, then, at Kurt's question. "I was," he replies. "Dealing with a group of criminals there. The things I get up to when I'm not teaching here, eh?" Michael looks back out across the frosty school grounds, rolling his shoulders, expression settling back into its grim mask. "You're welcome. It just came to me when I was there, that's all."
Kurt Wagner	Kurt is, however, familiar with the cathedral; the history that it holds runs through his veins. It is a love of his home, love of his faith, and the history (as dotted as it may be with inequities and systemic sins) that he holds in that little plastic ball. "Very kind," is repeated. To hear that it had just 'come to him' makes him chuckle, the warmth exuding from the sound. "It is a church from Germany. Kurt will love it," he quips. "It is true," and he shrugs his shoulders lightly, "I am guilty. "Now," Kurt turns fully to Michael, the warmth still emenating from the elf, "Tell me how I can make your stay with us better. What is it that you need?" The question should be, 'What is it that you need that you don't know you need'; that is what makes a person truly.. welcomed. "One day, we should talk more. Tell me of your world. Perhaps, around a fire, und we can find something that you do now know you need. Or want."
Michael Erickson	And though he, himself, is not a man of faith, Michael has come to appreciate it in others. Even as he battles things that such faith would gasp to see. Their implications. He lets out a quiet sigh. "Oh," he says, looking back to Kurt. "I have nothing that I need, Herr Wagner. That your people have accepted me so warmly, considering what mine tried to do, that is more than enough for me. I am both in a goodly place to appreciate you all, yet also to be hated. And your people, short of perhaps one, have embraced me with open arms. And that one I do not blame for being suspicious."
Kurt Wagner	"That sums up our lives, Michael," Kurt agrees readily, his head bobbing. "'A goodly place to appreciate.. yet also to be hated'. He smiles, the sharpened teeth showing, though for him, right now, there is no fearsome appearance. Just a rueful expression upon the blue furred face. "If nothing else, then, you will be in my prayers." He'll add one more candle. "Are you living here now fully?" Kurt knows the man.. bird.. mutant. An honorary mutant.. splits his time seemingly everywhere. "This is a place of safety, but I think you already know that."
Michael Erickson	Michael shakes his head. "I live in the city," he affirms. "I work with SHIELD, when I'm an not here - they know nothing of what I learn, of course. I have made it a condition that I do not speak of this place. My plan is to allow them to help defend the planet from a governmental level. Though, of course, we all owe your people a great debt in helping change the government. Myself included. Majestrix Lilandra is, from everything I am able to glean, far more just than her brother ever was."     Then he nods. "Safety. Well. Thank you for your prayers. I do not pray to my gods, for they are too cruel. I will, however, keep you in my thoughts." As he clearly does apparently.
Kurt Wagner	"Mine believes in love, kindness to those in need, und equality." Kurt may have many, many crises of faith, but those tenets, he firmly believes in them. "I would not pray to a cruel, loveless god." Perhaps, in time, there will be a convert. Perhaps. And if not? That's okay. Theology aside, Kurt takes another step from the edge, his hands moving back into his pockets, the small gift tucked carefully within as well. "Please," he begins softly and earnestly, "It is important that they do not. This is a haven, und we have the charge of keeping the children safe." He probably doesn't have to say it, even though it does come, "I do not know what they would do, honestly. Trust.." Kurt lifts his shoulders with a shrug, "I can trust people. But a full Agency?" He chuffs a breath, the moisture making the cloud in the air before him. "I should go back downstairs und warm my feet und tail. Hot chocolate may be the thing, ja? I will make us some. So, come."
Michael Erickson	He gives Kurt a tight smile, as if he knows something he should not. "The universe is filled with wonders," Michael simply replies. "And of course. They do know /something/ here, as Agent Drew was here with me when we helped defend the house - she, by the way, is also an ally. She believes strongly that mutants deserve the same rights and respect as everyday humanity. But they do not, as far as I am aware, have any trouble with your kind."     "But I do promise..." His words take a dark note. "If they /did/ move against your people, they would find me an implacable foe."
Kurt Wagner	To hear that the house is known, and an Agent was here gives Kurt pause, a frown creasing his face. There's a darkness there, that growing wariness that isn't aimed at Michael, no. It's the knowledge. He shakes his head slowly, the sound of his tones weary, "I do now wish to fight them, but they will not touch our children." is said distinctly. "You will find, mein freund, that there are those who believe mutants have rights. As long as they look normal. As long as their power can be forgotten, or overlooked. There are very few who would believe such a thing should exist for one like myself. Or any of the children who wear their differences on the outside." Pulling a hand from his pocket, Kurt reaches to put his three-fingered hand upon Michael's shoulder. "I would have you beside me in the fight."
Michael Erickson	"They will not touch the children," Michael affirms with a nod. "I fought my own people to help, I'll fight these people, too. If need be. But I do not believe that it will be." He offers Kurt a smile as the mutant lays his hand upon his shoulder. "Worry not. I shall keep an eye on things. When I give them my files, my information on the headmistress and mutants will not go to them. They will go here, instead."
Kurt Wagner	"I do not envy you if you do have to fight them. Fighting is, of course, the last resort. No one likes it, but unfortunately there are times when it cannot be avoided. To fight against friends, allies.. it is hard." Kurt has had to, in the past. Even now, he.. tussles with other mutants. His own kind. "Come in und have some hot chocolate. I may even find some schnapps to put in for a touch of mint. That, I think you will like." Kurt's manner changes, the moment passing, though it's certainly not forgotten. Simply, moved to another spot. "Let's get warm."