Summary:Ivy and Scandal have a nice cup of tea. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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Doctor Pamela Isley, aka Poison Ivy, is seated at a small table in the center of her Grotto, nestled within the heart of the Disaster Zone. There's an actual tea service, very elegant looking, already set up on said table. The faint strains of Chopin can be heard in the background, nothing overpowering but a nice afterthought on the setting.
The green-skinned woman looks up at the sky, noting where the sun is this afternoon and waiting a bit patiently, as if expecting a guest…
For a trip into the depths of the Disaster Zone, Scandal has opted for an actual 'field' outfit - superficially similar to top-end biking leathers, on closer examination the black-and-chrome kit looks rather more akin to the sort of attire worn by those involved in the uppermost levels of espionage. By the time that she emerges into view of the waiting botanist, the sleek surface has been streaked here and there with muck and grime - but its wearer flashes a broad grin, raising a hand in greeting.
Ivy smiles brightly, waving over towards Scandal as she rises to meet her guest. She crosses over quickly towards Scandal, "Not too hard to get here, I hope? I'm so glad you accepted the invitation to visit… do you like tea?" She chuckles a bit, "I brew it myself, it's quite good, I think."
"I've done a certain amount of exploring in here before, so no - it was quite manageable. Thank you." Scandal glances around with a mixture of interest and a survivor's habitual paranoia, before flashing a grin at her hostess. "And tea would be very much appreciated."
Ivy chuckles softly, "Well, it's rare enough that I get guests here, but I'm grateful for the company." She gives Scandal a brief once-over, then gestures, "Right this way." With that, she leads the way to her little tea setting for two, pouring a cup of tea for Scandal as she offers, "Anything extra? I have fresh honey here, of course." Her lips quirk, "Managing an apiary here is not the worst thing, but it is a bit tricky sometimes."
Scandal nods, smiling as she strips off her gloves - though the silvery metal bracers remain firmly wrapped around her forearms. "A chance to sample the honey would be welcome. Thank you. And the hospitality is appreciated, I assure you. It is… unusual, and welcome, to be invited to someone's home. Let alone one so beautiful as this."
Ivy offers the honey to Scandal, sitting down across from Scandal, "Well, that's a shame… honestly, I wish I'd invited you over a while ago, but it's just been so busy with the rebuilding here." She looks curiously at the bracers, but doesn't say anything about them directly, looking at Scandal curiously over her tea, "So… how'd you end up with the Thunderbolts?"
"I volunteered." Scandal offers a brightly efficient smile… before snorting and shaking her head. Settling into place, she chuckles softly. "I… came to an arrangement. The federal government of the United States would rein in all efforts to 'bring me to justice'… and would also restrain themselves when it came to pursuing my assets. In return, I would assist them with problems of a certain type, as they arose. And would also demonstrate that I was taking significant steps to 'rehabilitate' myself. Hence my present status as a student of New York University."
Ivy laughs softly, "I can relate to that. They sprung me from jail with a similar deal, though more involving the Disaster Zone. The Thunderbolts is a bit more of an afterthought compared to my rehabilitating this area." She mmms, sipping her tea, then she looks at Scandal with interest, "A student? You never went to college before?"
"A few distance-learning courses ever now and then, open lectures, and so forth." Scandal smiles wryly, allowing herself a very delicate little taste of honey. "Mmmm. And no, I had never formally enrolled anywhere before. I spent my 'university years' in prison camps." Not that her polished accent makes that sound at all likely. "And… you were a jailbird, hmmm?"
Ivy nods, "A… fair description. I was betrayed and… well, 'volunteered' by my study partner to give me my powers. He didn't survive the experience." She doesn't sound regretful at that at all, as he had it coming for that and other things.
Then she continues, "After that, I did… I suppose you could call it 'classic supervillain stunts with an ecological theme.' Eventually, I got caught, and was rotting in prison when the government called." She smiles faintly, "Though, well, I like to think I've learned some lessons about that."
"Something other than 'don't get caught', hmmm?" Scandal winks playfully. "And… for me, the camps were… chosen because they would be educational. I can safely say that my father has always favoured an unconventional approach to parenting. I wound up being classified as a supervillain - or a minorly superpowered but successful criminal, perhaps. I don't think that the authorities will have tended to ascribe deeper significance to my actions."
Ivy wrinkles her nose, "Your father… sounds like quite the rotter, honestly. I'd have a few words for him, I think." Because Pamela doesn't really enjoy the thought of treating children badly. Then she chuckles softly, tilting her head at the wink, "Well, sounds like we both had some trouble spots, but we've come through to the other side." She tilts her head, looking at Scandal with a curious expression, "Though now, I have to ask… what's with the bracers?"
"We have had some rather *vigorous* disagreements, in the past," Scandal says dryly. "But these? One of his gifts for which I am more grateful than most."
She points one forearm towards the sky, then forms a fist - and a moment later three short, triangular blades spring out around her hand. Another barely-perceptible twitch sheathes them… to then be replaced by two long spurs projecting forward.
"They are called 'the Lamentation Blades'. Ancient things, more famous in their own right than I am. And were my father's ninth birthday gift to me."
Ivy blinks at that, "When you were nine? I think mine gave me a copy of Through the Looking Glass." She smiles wryly, "Very impressive, though, Scandal." She chuckles a bit, sipping again from her tea, and she looks curiously at Scandal, "So… ah, what were your plans for later this evening? I just realized the time, though I had no plans, per se."
"It was a… memorable birthday," Scandal says softly, lips twitching into a sour grimace. "The first day on which I learned something significant about who my father truly was." She eyes the extended spurs for a moment… then *clicks* them away, before folding her hands neatly onto the table. "I was considering spending the evening putting some reading into the normative school of international relations theory. Direly unfashionable in the United States, of course, but I confess that inclines me to give it a second glance. But did you have something in mind?"
Ivy mmms, "Well, I was wondering if you'd mind to have dinner? I have to admit, I like your company, Scandal." She smiles warmly at Scandal, tilting her head slightly as she arches a brow, "But, I wouldn't wish to keep you… I mean, I'm certain you have plans?" Though she definitely sounds like she hopes Scandal doesn't…
"As a student, the responsible thing to do will almost always involve reading quietly. Or perhaps writing an essay." Scandal's lips twitch into a wryly teasing smile. "But no, I have no… time-specific plans. Keeping on top of the work required for my studies is quite a simple matter, so long as Thunderbolts activities don't interfere too much. I do fear that I am not really suitably attired for dinner, however. I dressed for crossing the Zone…"
Ivy chuckles, "Well, I'm not complaining about the attire, Scandal. But then again, I might be a bit biased." She coughs a bit, "So, ah… I'm certain I can arrange for an agent to bring something for both of us, if you wanted to dine here. A bit of relative privacy, if that's amenable?" She smiles, almost shyly, towards Scandal.
Laughing warmly, Scandal nods, then cocks her head. "Oh, so this would be a dinner for which I should dress up? Intriguing. Are you a chef, to go with your other accomplishments? But yes, I think that I can risk inflicting more of my company on you, if you are keen to risk stumbling upon further hints of my unconventional past."
Ivy smiles, "Considering who I'm used to hanging out with, I suspect your past isn't terribly unconventional as far as I'm concerned." She gives Scandal a wry look, "And not terribly skilled at cooking, but I am very skilled at convincing my minders to run out and grab something, particularly if I include something for them as well." She gets a bit of a wry look at that, "But, well, here in the Disaster Zone, we make do with what we have, hmmm?
"You would have to try *extremely* hard to give me one of the worst meals of my life, I assure you. So you should be on quite safe ground on that front." Scandal smiles again. "But you have *minders*, hrmm? I had not realised that you had a staff here."
Ivy snickers, "Not so much a staff as the government doesn't exactly trust me, so I have a few agents making sure I'm not plotting some nefarious plot." She rolls her eyes a bit, "But, well, we do have a bit of an understanding in that regard, at least."
"Ahhh." Scandal ducks her head. "I apologise for misunderstanding. That does make sense. I am one of the rare handful of Thunderbolts to have been trusted to lead a 'civilian' life, out in the 'real' city, alongside the activities performed to order for the authorities. But that simply means that the monitoring, and the bars of my cage, are a little more… remote than for others. It is a welcome distinction, to be sure, and not one that I should assume applies to others."
Ivy mmms, "Well, if you wanted… I could come visit you? Might be a bit easier, and since you're a Thunderbolt, I don't think I'd need an escort at that point." She grins a bit impishly, "I'm sure your word would suffice, yes?"
Scandal lets slip a startled laugh. "Me? A supervisor of other Thunderbolts? An intriguing notion, to be sure. In all honesty, I suspect that part of the reason I am allowed the degree of freedom I presently enjoy is simply a result of my being deemed a rather minimal threat, compared to so much *else* that is out there. And especially in comparison to the array of *heroes* - both self-appointed and official - in the city. But we could certainly find out if your being with me provides sufficient… security to satisfy our watchers."