Summary:Illyana gets a look at what the shard last night did to Remy. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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The following morning, after the D&D Disaster in the Park.
Remy is stepping out of his bedroom and moving down the staircase to the main area of the Lake House's 2nd floor interior. He's wearing a v-necked light gray tshirt, dark brown jeans and a pair of short black socks on his feet, in his left hand are a pair of leather boots. He's wincing a bit as he walks down each step, his right hand reaching up to run through his long dark hair to shove it back off of his forehead.
At his feet is a young kitty cat, not even a year old. It RUNS past him at high speeds down the stairs and makes a break for the sofa, launching onto it, then up its back and across it to one of the arms where it stands up and stares around the room, like its afraid that the floor is actually lava.
Remy, meanwhile, is wobbling slowly to the same sofa, and once at its side, he drops his boots on the table then collapses onto it with a heavy huff. Looks like he had a rough night and he doesn't even really know why.
When the Cajun had passed out in the park, Illyana teleported him back to his new digs. Which she hadn't been in before, which means it took some extra work to get him into his bed. She was nice, and pulled his boots off for him, but strip him down so waking up might be a bit uncomfortable. Hopefully he doesn't keep much in his pockets. It means she also hasn't seen the pattern on his chest.
Since Remy's impromptu nap was a side effect of some sort of magical effect, Illyana didn't just go home. She wanted to wait until he woke up and she was sure he was OK. She sure as well wasn't going back to sleep, though so she amused herself poking around his living area for a while before setting herself up at his dining table with some books. She needed to do some research anyhow. Being quiet and in a corner, she watches the energetic antics of the kitten and the bleary eyed man come down. She sips at the take-out coffee she has from Salem Center before commenting to him, "You look like shit."
The kitty cat was staring right at Illyana, on the arm of the sofa opposite of where Remy is laying back. He sniffs the air, and when she speaks he hops down off of the sofa's arm and trots his little fuzzy feet over to her, intending to rub up against her legs and purr like an affectionate little fella.
Remy? Remy just JUMPS when Illyana speaks. He hadn't seen her there on his way down from the second floor where all the rooms are lined up along a hallway. "Goodness." He says then as he does look over at her and sees her there. "Ya just keep poppin' right outta da woodwork, Chere." He says to her then, now leaning forward to press his elbows to his knees and his hands to dangle between them.
He looks down to the floor just in front of his socked feet and his dark hued bangs dangle down across his brow again. "I'm completely and utterly fine." He says, left hand coming up to rub at his jawline, across the dark hairs of the stubble found there.
He suddenly stands then and starts to walk toward her, to pass by her, on his way to the kitchen area where he pops open the fridge. "You bring me back here last night?" He asks her then. "Appreciate it. Still not sure what happened back there…"
Illyana Rasputina chuckles, low and smug as Remy tries to jump out of his skin before she leans over a bit so she can look down at the kitten as it starts to rub up against her. Suspiciously, she looks back over to Gambit. "Where'd you find this little guy? I'm worried he's a monster in disguise." Because most animals really don't like Illyana. The same way a lot of people don't, even if she doesn't say something caustic. The touch of the Elder Gods is on her is strong enough she, to borrow a Buffyism, gives them a wiggins.
"Well I wasn't going to leave you face down in the park. The cops'd probably come by eventually and figure you were drunk or something but would I leave my favorite Cajun out in the cold?" Illyana's smirk goes hand-in-hand with the mocking tone. A little more seriously, she nods. "Yeah. Wasn't sure if there'd be any other side effects so I wanted to stick close." The tome, because that's the only good word for the huge, leather-bound book, is closed and she leans back in the chair, pulling her legs up so her heels rest on the edge of the seat. She's dressed much more casually, though still all in black with a tank top and loose pants. And they're not leather! Probably her version of PJs. "Also, welcome to my world. Where weird, unexplainable shit is just another Tuesday."
"He's a monster, to be sure." Remy replies as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a glass jar of orange juice. As he shuts the door and turns to walk down the counter toward where the glasses are kept in the cupboard he adds on further. "But he a monster in plain sight, no disguise necessary."
When Illyana displays the young cat a little more attention it runs away, whether because its afraid of her or because its just a bastion of way too much energy than any one thing should have, is yet to be seen. "He found me." Remy then states whilst pouring himself a glass of OJ. "Was on my motorcycle after I came outta the grocery store the other night. I tried t'shoo'im, but when I started t'pull out, he jumped up onta the bike and just rode the whole way with me back here. I figured the noise'a the bike would run'im off."
Remy now arrives at the table and sits at a chair beside where Yana is. He settles back in and after a deep swig of the orange juice he sets it down onto the table. "I guess I was wrong." He then grins for a second before he shakes his head, locks of dark hair waving against his brow.
"Dat a weird night, it be true. But not the weirdest I've ever had." He looks over at her and grins just a little. "Still though… Got a funny feelin' somethin' bad happened…"
Illyana Rasputina frowns over, looking at him in concern. "I should put you under my metaphysical microscope, see if anything is lingering on you. I didn't want to go poking at you too much last night when you couldn't give consent and all." It's said as a joke, but it *can* give her a lot more insight into things about him than he might be comfortable sharing. Or would at least want to be able to give her permission. Much like how people aren't usually crazy about telepaths diving right into their heads. It's another example of where while Illyana might make cutting remarks and try to make people squirm with verbal barbs, she does try not to do things that might really upset people.
The half empty glass of orange juice is sat down again after another gulp of its contents and Remy sits up a little higher in his chair once he hears Illyana's words. He smirks at them. "I don't think you need a microscaope t'see that somethin' be lingerin, Chere." He tells her then. "Also don't need consent in situations like this. If somethin' like that happens t'me? I'm eager t'get all the information about it as soon as possible… rather than face some kinda lingerin' effect that ya know… ends up doin' more harm over time, like me sleepin' half the day away."
"But here." Remy says then as he stands up and he grabs hold of his tshirt over his shoulder sand yanks it up his torso and over his head. He wads it up and holds it in his left hand then while his right sorts his long hair out again, then he motions up to his chest with that same hand. "Look see, Chere." He tells her, showing off the 'marks' left behind by whatever happened last night.
"I ain't one t'bash on body art, but I also know for a fact dat none'a dis was here yesterday." He glances down at it for a second himself, but then back up to the woman in black.
"Well, it'd help me see *what* in addition to *if*." Illyana points out. "And if you were in some sort of distress, I would have. But sometimes it's like looking into someone's mind y'know? You can see things unintentionally. The metaphysical starts touching on the spirit and the soul and stuff."
The blonde falls silent as Remy stands to strip off his shirt. For all her teasing about her very own Remy cable channel, she actually hasn't been spying on him. Her head tilts to the side a bit as her gaze slides down over him appreciatively for a moment before she jerks her attention to the marks themselves. Bringing her feet back down to the floor so she can stand up, she moves closer so she can walk around him without touching and get a good look at them.
"It's the same script as was on the stone… One used by Plotka's people." Illyana reaches out a hand towards, but doesn't touch. Her eyes narrow a bit. "Oh yeah. That feels familiar."
Remy is a fit figure to be sure, he's a light eater and a heavy exerciser, which yields good results really, at least in the aesthetic sense if nothing else. And normally he's all for a nice looking lady to get a good look at him like this… but in this particular instance and on this particular morning/early afternoon he's not so into the bare elements of whats going on here, pun intended.
As she walks around him he glances after her and then just remains standing so she can see it all. "I can't say that I'm terribly 'appy about any'a this, Chere." He says then. "I intended t'go to Harry's last night just t'get a few rounds'a cards in before comin' back here t'try'n sleep again. Now? Now I ain't so sure there's much sleep'n da cards for me, so long as this gobble-dee-gook is all up'n over my hot bod."
He smirks sidelong toward her. "Tell me dat dat beautiful head'a yours has an idea on how t'rid me'a this stuff, cause… t'quote a smuggler from a galaxy far far away? I got a bad feelin' about dis…"
While Illyana doesn't really play the dating game, or seem to have any romantic trysts, she's not shy about enjoying the view. But that's for fun and this is business. Reaching out, she takes hold of his wrists and pulls his arms out to the side so she can follow the edges of the design. The burn-like markings cover the center of his chest and licks out around his ribs and slips just below his waistband with nothing on his back. Glancing down towards his navel, she rolls her gaze back up to him. "I hope for your sake, that they stop there." She notes. Because they look pretty damned painful.
Illyana's eyes shift from the pale blue orbs to all-white and glowing. One of her hands comes up and sketches out a symbol that leaves glowing lines in its wake. She speaks a word when she finishes and the symbol flares and floats towards Remy. When it hits his chest, it disolves into a shower of sparks and she sucks in a breath. "Spit and Hades." She says with venom.
Remy just tries to stay settled and not, you know, get fidgety because he's on display here for this woman who has (he hopes) experience in whatever is doing this to him, or did this to him. He does hold his arms up, at least until she says that part about it being painful and he smirks. "Its… I'm in a dire place, t'say the least." He replies to her before he lowers his arms again and watches her cast this spell? Was that a spell? He doesn't know.
"I do like dat I'm gettin' a private magic show though. Eleveny year ol' Remy would be giddy for such a thing." Now he's just being his usual self and quipping about her tactics there to help fire things out.
When she says that last part though? He raises one dark eyebrow. "Dat sounds like an 80s metal Album title. Please tell me it is, an' we gotta go find it, then listen to it backward t'figure out how t'make this stuff get off'a me."
Illyana Rasputina exhales heavily through her nose, annoyance making her shoulders tight. "I just… recognize parts of it. It's small magic." Meaning the spell she cast. "Kinda like a litmus test. Strip turns a certain color, it means a certain thing. It's keyed to a…" She makes an annoyed sound. "They're called the Nine Black Virtues, which apparently the True Fae or whatever they like to call themselves these days are far too tangled up in."
The sorceress crosses her arms before her, scowling at Remy's chest. He's a good deal taller than her, so that's pretty easy to do. "There's good news and bad news. The good news, is that I should be able to break the spell. The bad news is, I'm not sure what kind of side effects that might have. Back on the good news side, I can look into the rock that caused all this mess and see if that gives me some clues to try to pick this lock instead of kicking the door in."
Remy looks down at her as she says all of this and he starts to unfold that wadded up shirt in his hand. "Bad news bein' I gotta wear this thing for awhile longer if'n you gotta go out there and do some research, yeah?" He softly shakes his head and starts to pull the shirt back on again, talking through it as he does so.
"Ya know, Yana." Remy states then as his head pops through the top of it. "Next time I wake up in da middle'a the night after an unsettlin' dream? I'm just gonna flip on da boob tube and watch me some ol' re-runs. I t'ink it about time in my life dat I stop goin' out inta da dark and searchin' for fun stuff to do. Seems like dat fun stuff is gettin' less'n less fun."
He tugs his shirt on again and moves to sit back down in his chair once more to reach for his orange juice. "I don't t'ink I'm dying, so I figure it be best if ya find a way t'pick this lock, as you say." He sips the drink then flashes a quick and brief smile. "For safety's sake. So I don't keel over dead. I got a lotta life yet t'live, yeah?"
As Remy sits back down, Illyana comes up behind him and leans over him, her arms resting on his shoulders. "Definitely sounds like you're moving into geezer territory there." She teases him before patting his shoulder.
"From the way my spell reacted, it's aligned to one of the lower level 'virtues'. I'd watch your impulses, but it should be more on the level of embarrassing versus dangerous. To you or anyone around you. I'm gonna check in on you at least once a day though, to make sure it's not trying to ramp you up through the levels, so to speak."
The Cajun remains in his seat as she leans over him from behind and he just listens to her words and can't help but smirk at them. "On one hand…" He starts. "It sound like you describin' a video game, which begs the emotional response of 'Oh, this could be fun'." He takes another sip of his drink then before setting it aside again. "On the other hand… I know there's no way in Hell this is gonna be fun, so that means it can only get less'n less fun…"
He narrows his eyes at his lack of eloquence there, but ignores it either way. He draws in a sharp breath and lets it out again, shifting his weight a bit on the chair. "I think I gonna look inta sleepin' pills maybe, just snooze my way through this until ya got a solution." He glances up and back at her to show her a rogueish grin.
Illyana Rasputina ruffles Remy's hair before standing back up and walking back around the table to get her coffee. She eyes him dubiously over the top of her cup. "Yeah…. why do I not see you being able to just sit still for all of this. You and your kitten have a lot in common. You just manage your hyperactivity better."
Finishing off her coffee, Illyana tosses out the cup. "I'll take off and see what I can find out so we can get that taken care of as soon as we can."
Remy is left with a mop of brown hair atop his head and a smirk on his stubble surrounded lips. "Me and Harvey are kindred spirits." He replies to her about his cat, its name is Harvey apparently. As she steps away, he moves to stand up then. "Think I'm gonna make me some breakfast… feelin' like pancakes, maybe waffles… maybe both?" He starts to move toward the kitchen area's counters again, his socked feet swishing across the floor.
"Maybe french toast… hmmm…" Of course he's going to end up making all of those things. But first he's getting himself another cup of orange juice out of the fridge. "Ah look forward t'ya comin' back with all the answers, Chere." He says, glancing back at her. "Ya gotta help me get through this, Yana-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope!"
Illyana Rasputina pauses. She was about to leave but… food! But no. Must. Help. Cajun. She points at him with a bit of a squint. "You owe me dinner when I fix you." At least there's no 'if' involved. She knows she can fix him, it's just a matter of the best way to do so.
Summoning a stepping desk, Illyana disappears to leave Remy alone.
Well. Alone with Harvey.