Summary:After a night on the town, Sam and Illyana unwind and talk about how far they've come. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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After the excitement at the mosh pit, Illyana opted for a bit… quieter crowd. She moved the pair off to something a bit more club-like and less heavy metal though the music still had a pretty heavy beat. Sam was graduating when Illyana was a freshman and wasn't one of those she snuck away to nightclubs. Seeing the blonde on the dance floor is very different from the one he knows. If for no other reason than he didn't have to worry about a repeat of the leg-breaking when someone touched her. Admittedly, none of them have tried to put their hands down her pants. It probably helped that Illyana stuck close to Sam. It might have been a bit awkward for him just how close she was inclined to dance with him. By the end of the night they're tired and sweaty and it's time to get Sam home. Ducking down a hallway, Illyana opens a disk and drags Sam though and it winks out behind them.
Sam's seen the blasted landscape of Limbo, but this time they're inside what looks like a castle, with heavy stone blocks that make up the walls. It's a bit like a hotel suite as they step into a sort of 'sitting room'. He can see a bedroom off through one of the arches. "Did you want to clean up here, or shall I scoot you right off to the school?" She smirks over his way, her cheeks still flush from the night of dancing. "I promise you, my bath is bigger."
Sam Guthrie feels a certain amount of wonder, still, at being just snatched up and transported to another world. Illyana's used to it, of course, but Sam's still enough of a Kentucky boy that the adventures he has, the places he goes, they can stun him a bit nonetheless. Hell, he can't believe she lives in a castle.
"I bet it is," he says, "If you got the space and don't mind, I ain't in any rush to go back to my old dorm room. I kinda outgrew it a while ago, but even with the small stipend I get from the Institute, I can't really afford my own place." Especially since he sends most of that money back home to his family anyway.
Illyana Rasputina wrinkles her nose a bit. "Yeah. People kept saying that I could move back to the school, but it's been what, seven years for me? Living with Doug isn't ideal but…" She shrugs. "I keep telling myself I should get a job and then I wonder what the hell I'd do."
The blonde crooks a finger for him to follow and then pushes the double doors open to step into the hall. She takes a moment, looking back and forth, as though she needs to orient herself, and then heads left. "I have *tons* of space." She points out. "I can literally create more if I wanted to, for some bizarre reason."
It's a bit of a walk, heading down a lot of steps. When she finally pushes open the door it's not a bathtub of any kind. It's more like a Roman Thermae.
Sam Guthrie looks around, "Wow, I think I'v seen stuff like this in movies," he admits. There's a certain blush to his features, but he's not about to play the innocent here, he's a 22 year old man and not a teenager away from home for the first time. It took him a long time to stop being seen as a dumb hick, to earn the regard of his classmates and his teammates.
Even if he does still feel sometimes like an awkward, gangly kid instead of the grown man he's become.
"I've got to figure something out, yeah. Sharing a house with that many teenagers is…not fun. Not really sure how the older X-men do it."
"I think they do it by not being around when not required." Illyana jokes. "I mean, I could just stay here but no one can get to me. Not even to call and say 'hey, you wanna drop by?'."
As Sam marvels at the place, Illyana gives a small shrug. "By all accounts, Belasco was a) really damned old and b) let's say… ostentatious." At the blush she chuckles and makes a sweeping motion with her hand as though to say 'go on now'. "Just jump in with your clothes McBlussherson. I'll just get rid of your conjured clothes once you're in the water." Thereby saving his modesty. "Or I can come back later." She says, gesturing to the door with a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm uh, still not used to having gendered people around." Because demons aren't. Well, not her demons, anyhow.
Sam Guthrie shakes his head, "No, no, please, don't leave me alone, I don't think I'm quite up for being left to my own devices in the big ol' demon hell castle," he grins. He does have conjured clothes, but still feels a little weird just going straight into the water, so he kicks off the conjured boots and pulls the shirt up over his head at least, "Feels real weird taking leather pants into the water, even if I know they ain't really real." he admits, slowly dipping in.
"Well, they're *real*." Illyana explains. "As in anyone trying to figure out what they are with scientific means'd think they are. And they don't just disappear on their own." Sam is *just* into 'decent' territory when he hears the *snap* of Illyana's fingers and the res of his clothing just disappears. "You're also in luck. There's two places my demons know better than to cross the threshold into. My rooms, and my bath." At least she's been able to stop mounting heads outside the door to remind them.
Illyana heads over to the deep portion of the bath and sits down on a bench to work her own boots and socks off. Her pants and shirt follow, leaving her in just her underthings. Off on the side, there's soaps and washcloths and the like. The water temperature varies at different spots, from lukewarm to Really Damned Hot.
Sam Guthrie keeps his eyes averted for her privacy. Well. Mostly. He's only human, after all, whatever the anti-mutant sorts might have to say about it. But he's not gross about it and he's not about to leer or make a big deal out of it.
He seems to like the hotter sections, pushing close to those, "I used to take boilin' hot baths and showers as a kid. They'd kinda shock the system and wake ya up, especially when it was cold out," he says.
Women wear less to the pool at the Institute, and Illyana doesn't strip down any more before getting into the water. She immediately ducks beneath the surface to get her hair wet so she can rinse out the sweat. For all that she likes to make people squirm, it seems she's taken some pity on Sam tonight.
"And don't you have like, three dozen siblings? Did they all whine that you used all the water?" Illyana teases, smirking over at Sam. Even when she moves towards the shallower end to get the shampoo, she keeps the water at shoulder-level.
Sam Guthrie grins, "Yes, they did, but that's the privilege of bein' the oldest. I usually had been out in the fields workin' up a sweat while they were sittin' on their little behinds playin' with toy soldiers and robots and Barbies," he says. "And it ain't three dozen…it's…nine," he says. "Not even the biggest family in the county, where I come from. Folks have a lotta kids cause they need the hands," he says.
Illyana Rasputina's pale blue eyes glitter with amusement as Sam corrects her. Because she knew it wasn't *that* many. "My parents were only planning on the two. I guess being part of a farming collective, you didn't need as many children individually. I was a 'surprise'." The amusement slips from her expression, shadows moving behind her eyes as she remembers going back to see her parents when she first got free of Limbo. That… did not go so well.
The sorceress tries to shake if off, turning around abruptly. "Get my back?" At least it's phrased as a question.
"I'm sure you were a good one," he says. He didn't know her parents or even much about her life back in Russia. She never talked about it and he and Piotr had never been close. He approaches her quietly and gathers up some of the soap, quickly using a sponge to suds up her back.
"Being part of a big family has its good sides and its bad sides. Lots of love, not much privacy. Never bored, but not much peace," he says. "Gets worse when some of 'em are mutants."
"I was… six or seven when I was kidnapped to Limbo the first time, so I don't really *remember* much." Illyana muses. "Impressions, mostly. I think you're right though. And Piotr's always been so happy to see me." Her tone dips a bit more somber though, despite what should be the good news of Piotr's obvious love. "Mikhail, my oldest brother, was already gone by the time I was born so I've never known him."
Illyana's drawn her long hair over one shoulder, washing it in a distracted manner as Sam washes her back. It's a bit easier to talk, when she's not looking at him.
Sam Guthrie shakes his head, "I can't imagine what you went through. Even hearing about it, I know I can't really understand what it was like. It's so different from anything I've been through. THat you not only survived, but came through as…amazing as you are is a pretty strong testament to you," he says. He's careful in his ministrations, soaping up over her shoulders and then rinsing in the wake of it. "Your shampoo smells good," he says, changing the subject to try and not make her uncomfortable.
Illyana Rasputina lifts her shoulders in a dismissive sort of shrug. "Everyone goes through their own version of Hell." Talking about what she went through makes her uncomfortable, but having people praise her for it makes her downright squirmy. None of them realize the things she did in the name of survival.
As Sam finishes, she ducks under the water again a moment, turning back towards him as she resurfaces and forces a smirk. "'Amazing' huh? They teach you flattery down south?" She says, mimicking a Southern accent. The smirk doesn't last long, even as she tries to make things into a game. "Most folks consider me cold, manipulative, and slash or a bitch." She points out. Because she doesn't say 'please' or 'thank you' or even ask half the time. For anything.
Illyana leans in a bit to mock-whisper, "I bring it in from Earth." Otherwise the shampoo does *not* smell quite so nice.
Sam Guthrie shakes his head, "Nah, just honesty," he says. "Your version of Hell wasn't no version, Illyana. It was Hell, literally. That you manage to come back a person at all is a sort of miracle, although I'm bettin' you ain't crazy about that word neither. You got more right than most to be a 'bitch', but I know that ain't really who you are. Just who you gotta be sometimes. And some people say bitch when they just mean you don't take their shit," he says with a bit of a grin.
"It's also pretty much all I knew." Illyana says when Sam points out her Hell was a much more literal Hell. "And I almost ended up what Belasco wanted me to be." There's a short pause and she lets out a sigh through her nose. "I still might be." She says, her tone quieter then. She moves back over to get some conditioner, an excuse to move away for a moment.
"It's sweet of you to be supportive, Sam. And I'm… trying to be a good person. Well, as good as I can manage." The last is said with a bit of a sigh. She hasn't really explained to most how tangled up her soul is with actual Evil. "But you shouldn't go giving me that kind of credit when you don't know what I am. What I've done." A few of her fellow classmates have seen glimpses of her demonic form, but that's certainly not common knowledge at the school. Rumored, yes.
Sam Guthrie nods softly, "Maybe. But I'm willing to put a little faith in you. Maybe even some you don't have in yourself," he says. "I've seen you make hard choices and I've seen you, time and again, make a lot of the right ones. Are you perfect? No, But ain't nobody is, even those of us that don't got the excuse of being kidnapped by the fuckin' devil," he says firmly. "Plenty of people worse than you with a lot less reason."
"So I'll give you all the credit I like and you'll just have to lump it," he jokes.
Illyana Rasputina can't help it. Her lips curve upwards in amusement at Sam's demand that she's just gonna have to live with his faith in her. The nerve. Making demands of her. In her home. Illyana moves in close to him, leaning in to brush a light kiss against his cheek. "You're sweet, Sam."
Illyana heads for the stairs then, where there are towels stacked up. "C'mon. I'll get you home so you can get some sleep."
Sam Guthrie feels the kiss on his cheek for a moment, brushing a hand over it and almost frozen for a second before he nods, "Sleep sounds good. Maybe next time we go to a club, there won't be a violent incident and a stray mutant on the run," he says with a grin, grasping the towel and climbing out to dry off.
Somehow, while they were bathing, Sam's clothing that he originally had on when Illyana stole him away for the evening is sitting, neatly folded, nearby. Illyana has one of the large, fluffy towels wrapped around her torso and works on drying her long hair with another, her profile to Sam as he comes out and turning towards him as he secures the towel around his waist. "Aw, I thought it added some spice to the night." Illyana jokes, grinning wolfishly at Sam.
Sam Guthrie laughs, "You would. I could do with spice that didn't end up with my potentially giving police reports. I do plan to be an officer someday, of some sort, remember?" he says. "I don't mind covering up for you or some of the others, but strangers not so much. Although that kid looked like she was probably in more trouble than she knew, so…eh, it's fine. Still. We probably oughtta try and find her sometime, if she's gettin' into nightclub fights. Only a matter of time before somebody less generous than us tries to confront her."
Illyana Rasputina rolls her eyes theatrically, sitting down on a padded bench as she continues to work her hair dry. "Fine, fine, go be all goody-goody." She teases him.
The observation about Laura gets a thoughtful frown and a nod. "She reminds me of me, really. When I first showed up at Xavier's, fresh out of Limbo?" Demonic culture is rather more violent than in the civilized world. "And we should go find her." Illyana agrees. "I'll have to see if I can manage to track her down with my scrying crystal."
Sam Guthrie nods and sits down next to Illyana, his own hair damp and more than a bit ruffled, but it hardly matters. He keeps it cut short enough that it ends up looking okay without a great deal of effort. Out of the hot water, his freckles show a bit more in his cheeks and the tops of his shoulders. "I only remember that you were kept isolated at first. Everyone was really curious," he says.
Illyana Rasputina stops mussing with her hair and leans her shoulder into Sam as he sits behind her. "Yeah, there was a lot of discussion about if I could stay or if I was a danger to the students. They had to lay out in pretty explicit terms to me not to harm people. They actually gave me a bunch of law books to read through." Illyana is an exceptionally fast reader. It's one of the things that let her defeat Belasco. He didn't realize she'd learned everything he knew and had written down in his grimoires.
Illyana doesn't have the freckles that come from being pale and out in the sun. Limbo doesn't have a sun at all. Just and endless blood-red sky. Wearing just the towel around her torso though, he can pick up the shiny lines of old, old scars. And not just one or two.