War with D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!

WAR WITH DESTINY

By headsman's blade or battle-axe

Fight For Your Life

Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.

For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.

The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree.

You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.

BATTLE MODE: ATTACK

You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.

She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.

Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.

SEEK SANCTUARY

Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.

BATTLE MODE: SUPPORT (PSYLINK)

And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.

Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.

Drift Compatible

The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.

You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.

In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.

The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.

Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.

But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.

Comments

kurt wagner [nightcrawler] ❧ ota

[shadowblends]

❧ fight for your life
the moment to live and the moment to die

[Kurt, for once, is far happier than he should be about having battle training. So far, it's aided him in keeping others safe, propelled him into a more leadership type role, urging him to guide others to seek shelter or ready themselves for conflict. He fights back as many minions as he can with a knife that isn't much bigger than his hand, disabling them left and right, regardless of his apprehension on, well, murdering people. (Yes, okay, they're attacking them, but--)

He uses the helpful environment to his advantage, teleporting between foliage to avoid flames, gliding with ease across branches and treetops. Every now and then, he'll pause-- maybe it's to help a fallen civilian or comrade, bamfing from one place to another to get them out of harms way. Then, he will backtrack to continue restraining their foes.

It's more back and forth than he'd like. One of the things that keeps him going is Magnus' words from their first meeting: "Working together to benefit us all as a whole."

Something that becomes a mantra after too long.]

❧ seek sanctuary
if no one is standing beside you, be still and know i am

[At some point, he'd made it to the temple, still aiding others inside, despite his battered and bruised form.] I'm all right. Never better— really, [he insisted, trying to brush off any concerns for his wounds, until he found it was getting harder and harder to stand.

Finally, after some coercing, Kurt relinquishes and allows himself to be helped, fidgeting uncomfortably at the idea of others being hurt. The people that bandage him up demand he rest for a decent length of time, but a full day surely can't be enough, can it? That's all the time he takes, though.

Soon enough, he's back on his feet, darting between people in the temple, checking their well-beings, making sure no one has perished. Clad in some tricked out armor (thanks, Stark), sans faceplate, the azure-skinned mutant finds it hard to sit still with the ongoing skirmish just outside.

Much to his dismay, the blade he'd been using before had gotten busted in an earlier situation, leaving him weaponless for the moment. Not that Kurt's doing any complaining about not being out there. He had watched plenty of people fall, some by his own hand; a break was necessary at some point.]

How are you holding up? [he asks the approaching person, preoccupied with focusing on gingerly rebandaging a gouge on his forearm.]

❧ battle mode (and a closed prompt for pillz)
my power's turned on

ota;

[When it comes to the 'drifting' part of the mission, he'll be hesitant to do so, but if he feels like he can trust whomever decides to go through this link with him, he'll do it-- for the protection of their home.

Luckily, after the first time, he's gained a bit of control over his memories, so there's less 'rabbits' to chase, as it were.

Please, note that whoever does associate with him might have to pass through some triggering stuff to obtain a connection.]

closed to kavinsky;

[Being initially intrigued by this whole 'psychic link' thing had brought about the brilliant idea for him to talk to his daemon, which then led to her searching for a practicable partner for him to 'drift' with. He's nervous, unsure as to what she has brought up for him, although he is open to anything that will give them an upper hand.

Ricocheting, back and forth, tail lashing with uneasiness, Kurt can't seem to keep still. His guardian watches with those peculiar eyes, her head tilting to the side. Then, the sound of footsteps captures their attentions, causing both of their heads to whip around in the same direction.

Sheba looks ridiculously proud at the newcomer, whereas his brow furrows with confusion.] Him? [he questions, skeptical.] Sorry, that sounded rude. I just— [pause] Nevermind.

Nice to see you again.

❧ wildcard (for anything else!!)

[ooc: i've got kurt's plotting post here, if anyone would like to discuss stuff or maybe plot something out!]

meeee

[pillz]

[kavinsky is already flopping himself down on one of the stone beds. he's noticed that, for stone beds, they're pretty comfortable. it's obviously the surest sign of magic because there's no way that stone should be fucking comfortable, the hell.

his daemon, moonshined, regards shebad with interest. as odd a pair as kavinsky and kurt make, no doubt, shebad and moonshined are stranger to look at— an ocelot and a husky, a cat and a dog. true symbolism for the mismatch of their masters. moonshined rears up onto her hindlegs to place her forepaws on the interface nearby, stooping her head. unfortunately for everybody who likes cute animal memes, she doesn't actually try to type with her paws or anything! whatever link happens with the computer is much more subtle.

in the meantime, kavinsky calls out,] Sup motherfucker? [and flings his arms back, folding them under his head. like he's on a hammock in the goddamn bahamas instead of a cold temple in the middle of an interdimensional war.] You wanna start a fight, might be better to head outside. Lots of people for you to punch, sweetheart, and I'm into the whole genre-confused warrior LARP aesthetic you got going right now.

♥

[shadowblends]

[He watches, honey-tinted eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the other boy, who seems to have no problem making himself comfortable on the rock beds.

The ocelot, however, rises with grace, her large eyes staring at Moonshined. Their last meeting had been interesting enough and since she has her own curiosity that cannot be satiated, she sees no problem padding over the husky to investigate. Once within range, she leaps up onto the sleek black surface and noses into the canine's head when she lowers, playful and questioning.]

No relations with any mothers, [he quips.] I'm glad that you have no problem relaxing in the middle of a war. [A roll of the eyes, both arms raising to tuck across his chest, although his face is tinting violet, revealing his flustered state.] I already punched [and stabbed] plenty of people without this armor, but— mmn, I don't know what you mean by 'LARP.'

[pillz]

[the husky turns her own long snout, nudging the side against the ocelot's shoulder. her ears swing outward then rotate, friendly as you like, and she raises one big forepaw as if thinking to try and pet her new little friend. it's very amicable. buzzfeed would have a field day, if buzzfeed were here. but buzzfeed isn't. all you have is kavinsky, who's rolling his eyes once he catches a glimpse of the cute animal pals over there. fuck's sake.]

LARP. Live... Action... Live Action Roleplay, probably, [he says.] Nerds hitting each other with wood swords in the woods, pretending they real knights and shit. But congratulations. You got five or six levels on the neckbeards. Knocked the shit out of a whole bunch of baddies already. [a lopsided smile. kavinsky glints fang at the mutant again, inviting a glint of fang from kurt in answer.] I'm just glad you like to watch me relax in the middle of war, baby. [kurt isn't wrong, of course. kavinsky's appearance of being at ease is out of place.

and not entirely honest. kavinsky's wheelhouse is a very narrow sub-domain of psychic shit. he doesn't exactly count on this psylink to be just like dream thieving.]

[shadowblends]

[Broad eyes squint, her round ears rolling back, making plenty of room for the paw to come down right on the top of her skull. She waits a moment, as if contemplating what would be the best way to retaliate, then raises her own leg to plop down atop the husky's nose. Boop.]

Except, I'm not acting? Back in my world, this is just the sort of thing I was planning for. If I hadn't broken my knife— [Kurt stops, tentatively peers over his shoulder then turns back to Kavinsky.] Thanks, I think. [Also a bit of an iffy statement, but there, nonetheless.] You like being watched? How bizarre. [Which means he's interested.

With a sigh, he promptly heads over to where their daemons are, his own lips quirking with amusement at the sight. All he can think of is the downright adorableness of the two and if there wasn't a long, ongoing battle outside, he could almost relax. However, they can't, because lounging about on a rockbed won't keep the monsters at bay.]

Well? [a gesture with his hand.] No time like the present.

cw sexual vulgarity

[pillz]

[kavinsky grunts. he shifts his arm, and a crumpled beer can appears where there hadn't seemed to be anything in his grasp at all— vampire speed, of course. showing off. and also being a bastard. the next moment, he gives a sinewy flick of his wrist. sends the piece of aluminium flying in the air. then it bounces smartly off the roof of the dog's head.]

Mutant wants to go, [he says.] Chop chop, motherfuckers. Hey, sweetheart. This ain't my first time. You know the drill is, stay in the present. Feel me come in. Breathe. And if it hurts, push out, don't clamp down.

[his leer is awful. typical. it's the tasteless kinds of jokes that he tends to enjoy. but he's already closing his eyes, and the stones are beginning to glow, pulsing with gentle warmth under kurt's back. it's beginning. the fractured rush of memory, the vague, ghostly sense of the jungle outside. their awareness expanding, merging, threading together like the icy surface of a freezing lake above currents that still run deep.]

[shadowblends]

[Crimson irises watch the can fly, arcing in a perfect semi-circle to fall right onto Kavinsky's daemon's head. His lips purse, irritation wrinkling dark brows at the mistreatment of the poor pup. It may not be real; that doesn't call for abuse. Or littering, for that matter. Seems like he'll need to learn to adapt to another speedster that's not Quicksilver, too.]

It's mine, though. [In case that wasn't clear. Again, Nightcrawler's features crease with disgust.] Sounds like you're speaking of something far more inappropriate, but oh-kay.

[And there's quite a lot he wants to say, but they have to focus-- he needs to, really, since Kavinsky has more experience than himself. He lets his eyes flutter, breathes out and the rush comes; an unexpected heat, followed shortly after by the press of cold stone now. His breath catches and immediately, blue eyelids crack, keen night-vision adjusting to the surrounding area.

In one fluid motion, he's slithering down, feet hitting the ground. Then, he's crouched behind a glowing slab, bending as low to the ground as he can manage. Beside him, a second block, hovering in the same manner, yet he can't bring himself to get close enough. He has a pretty good idea of who's on that thing, so maybe-- just maybe, if he stays down, that useful shadow blending technique he has can be put to use.

Nevermind the fact the golden smolder has begun to dull; a brief warning before the stone starts to lower. All the while, Kurt can only manage to suck in a breath and gawk, until a distorted, inhuman shout:] Charles! [echoes throughout the pyramid.

Both palms flatten, aiding in keeping him stable in his hiding spot. Just keep quiet, he concludes, reminding himself that he's supposed to be on a rescue mission. Which means, if he gets caught, that's the end.]

[pillz]

[it feels quick, this time. kavinsky knows that time is fucked in these virutal worlds, and there is little if anything to remember of the 'successful' part of the psylink, but when shit goes sideways with the backlash, he's always found himself coming to with abrupt and terrifying lucidity.

what the fuck is this place? he winds up crammed against a wall, feeling the cold of the metal seep through the fabric of his shirt. for an instant, he thinks it might be his own nightmare— even though the world is unfamiliar, kavinsky was traveling to unknown dimensions long before he went to eudio or xistentia. dream spaces filled with impossible vegetations, sylphs with hooved feet, dragons made of hellish light and smoke instead of sinew and bone. he thinks he might have invented this place, the inverse and opposite to cabeswater.

but then

charles? his head pops up. he recognizes that voice. and he knows that while he and kurt haven't had a very long acquaintance, the kid sure as shit doesn't think his name is charles.] Kurt? [he calls out, stepping out from the engraved wall. he glances upward, sees that it's as spacious as a fucking cathedral in here. or even more than a cathedral. holy shit. the echoes make a mess out of kurt's voice; he can't tell, even with his vampire senses, where it'd come from.] Kurt, man. This your shit we're reliving?

Who the fuck is Charles? [he starts to move, measuring a few quick treads down the hallway. but then he hears a quiet whump of a heavier figure stepping toward them, finds himself pressing against a column the next instant, eyes straining in the geometrically patterned half-light.]

my turn to powerprose :'D lmk if not okay

[shadowblends]

[Silence settles in the grand space, allowing Kurt to breathe-- a silent inhale and equally unnoticeable sigh. He pokes the very top of his head up, attempting to spot Apocalypse from his hiding place, though to no avail. Where was the Professor?

Charles, please, if you can hear me—

Then, someone is saying his name; a familiar, far too loud voice that he has to find before they blow it for both of them. While he's grateful that Kavinsky keeps talking (it makes him easier to seek out), the little blue demon wishes he would keep it down or the god-like mutant that's tromping around is sure to discover he's not alone. He isn't looking forward to what might be in store if they're caught.

A quick bamf drops him in front of the dream-thief, both of his hands raising to cover Kavinsky's mouth, their chests pressed firmly together with how close he is. In fact, he's technically sandwiching Kavinsky between himself and that fancy baluster he believes to be a successful hiding place.]

Shhh, [he pleads.

Thump. Kurt's head abruptly turns, frantic eyes darting from the shadowed figure back to Kavinsky.] ... he'll hear you. [His left hand drops, curls around the other boy's wrist and pulls as he turns to begin sprinting in the opposite direction. Hope you can multitask, K.] Reliving? What are you talking about?

sanctuary;

[hasitsthorns]

You are not alright and I'm sure you've been better, [ Rose is quick to quip. She's not one to talk right now, really. The woman hasn't slept in days already and is starting to feel exhaustion all the way to the marrow of her bones. But, it's- It's easier to worry about someone else than yourself, which is why her focus for the moment is on getting Kurt to rest.

She's painfully aware that's a lot easier said than done right now. Who in their right mind could rest with all this fuckery going on? They need to, however, and while Rose recognizes this... She's much better at telling people to do as she says, not as she does in the moment.

Finally, he agrees and gets a well-deserved break. When he's making the rounds again, Rose is there and ready to make sure he isn't over-exerting himself. ]

I'm holding up fine, dude, [ which is a lie as old as time that she's committed to. ] How about you? Need any help with that?

what a perfect sis

[shadowblends]

[Truly, he's happy for Rosie's concern, but at the time he'd been more than a little irritated from lack of sleep. At any rate, Kurt is simply thankful that he hadn't snapped at her when she'd urged him to take time to rest.

It wasn't the best sleep; more toss and turn than actual recovery, although that seemed better than nothing right now.

He glimpses her from his peripheral, flicks his gaze back to the wrapping that's sliding out of place once more.] Gut to hear. [Signifying he'll follow along, for the moment.]

Uhm, actually— [a beat, the heart-shaped end of his tail swinging up to motion beneath the slight curve of part of the armor, right across the elbow,] can you loosen the tiny latch under here? I should've taken this part of plating off before attempting this, but ... [Sigh. He's stubborn, that's what.]

huffs!!!

[hasitsthorns]

[ Even if he had snapped, she likely would have clapped right back. Rose herself wasn't in much of a mood to be playing nice. It's a far cry from her usual softer approach but war calls for a different mentality. She wonders, idly, if that's what this is: war. If that's what they've gotten themselves caught up in, if that's what it's going to take to bring their worlds back.

She's thankful for Kurt's pun being so awful that it distracts her from more macabre thoughts. And, hey, it gets her to smile for what feels like the first time in days so that's a win. ] Only if you say please, [ she adds, recognizing that stubbornness when she sees it.

She's a Taurus. Bull-headed. Kind of a thing. ]

kicks feet xc

[shadowblends]

[An appropriate reaction, Rosie dear. Fight cheekiness with equal amounts of sass and you're sure to win in the end. Something totally different from the battle outside; easier, for one, and less stab wounds.

His brow promptly furrows at her suggestion, lips twitching down in a scowl and nose wrinkling. Finally, with a huff, he lets his features soften, tail drooping in a rather pathetic manner.] Please? [he entreats.

Is it possible to resist that?]

[hasitsthorns]

[ Less stab wounds is always a plus in Rose's book. This might be a different kind of contention to what she's used to, but she's still just as good at this kind of fight than the physical. Kurt won't win. Though she'd be pleasantly surprised if he did.

He doesn't. Not this round, at least, but she already kind of hopes that there'll be more. If only because it's cute, the way he pouts and wilts. The way he displays such puppy dog eyes she knows he's had to have done this before. It makes her feel protective in a way she doesn't often. Like she's keeping a younger pup from diving headlong into trouble. ]

That's more like it, [ she answers, smile every bit as amused as she sounds. ] Alright, lemme' see what I can do here. [ She gets to working on his request then and it only takes a little of finagling but, she's got him situated quickly and asking, ] Anything else you need?

[shadowblends]

[No admittance to using the puppy eyes on his end, but yes, he clearly has practice. (Maybe with an actual sibling or parent.) Should he have been in less of a predicament, Kurt possibly would have put up more of a fight; he needs to bandage his wound before it gets worse, though, and Rosie is his only hope for the moment.

After it's loosened, the bit of metal slides easily down his arm, revealing the scarred blue skin beneath and the cut. He cringes, gingerly sets the armor aside to get a better look.] ... guess it's worse than I thought, [he admits.] No bone showing, though.

Thank you. [He returns his attention to Rose.] Would you happen to know where I could get disinfectant? If I had better knowledge of the foliage on Xistentia, I'd use that, but— [Most of the plants are foreign to him.]

[hasitsthorns]

[ Thankfully, she's not. At least not for the moment. While she's under strict orders to stay behind, for the time being, that isn't about to stop her from being useful in small ways. This is one of them. ]

Usually is, [ she says, giving him a sympathetic smile. Adrenaline dulls pain, at the very least. She isn't surprised that his damage might be worse than even he was anticipating. Sometimes in the ring, Rose didn't even realize how bad she'd been injured until all was said and done. ]

But, yeah, doesn't look too serious. You can walk it off, I believe in ya'. As for disinfectant... [ She searches a nearby rack that some volunteers had put out nearby. Hmm. Brandy might work, but- Ah. There we go. ] Here we are, good 'ol disinfectant. This might sting a little though. Got anything to hold onto?

[shadowblends]

[A sigh.] Well, I'll take my victories where I can get them. I won't die of blood loss and nothing's broken— both wins in my book.

[Somehow, Blue manages to return the gesture, head dipping in acceptance. His endorphins had kicked in long ago and he'd expected them to wear off shortly, hence his questioning of the sterilizer. He notices her pause on the brandy, cringes at the thought, but sighs in relief when she produces some proper antiseptic.]

I don't, [after wrinkling his nose:] but that's all right. [The material on the injured limb is already ruined; he rips it clean up to his shoulder, wraps the fabric around the opposite hand, then brings it up to bite down. A homemade muffler, created from the curved space that connects thumb and first digit tendons.

With himself effectively muted, Kurt offers out the wounded arm and motions with his head. Would you kindly? is the silent plea.]

Fighting;

[cantseame]

[The crashing of waves on a group of invaders signals Farraige's entry into the fray. Tentacles amassed of water rise from the conjured fluids, slamming and thrashing about when they spring up in crowds of their mutual foes. It's hard to tell how lethal Farraige's attacks truly are, as his victims at least seem to be moving after the assault.

The delay gives him long enough to administer a little healing to someone before ushering them away, but Kurt's popping about finally catches his attention. The water surges back to Farraige's side, swirling around him as if to lash out at anything approaching him. Would this one happen to be a friend? Farraige hoped so, given how fast he appeared to move.]

Are you with them?

[shadowblends]

[Sudden barrages of water tentacles are definitely enough to make him give pause, his head swiveling around to watch the assailants go down. One of the displacements drops him onto the shoulders of a red solider, the empty hand coming down on the crown of a helmet for some decent form of leverage.

He pushes off with all his might, using the propelling movement to slam them downward, effectively rattling whatever (or whoever) might be inside the armor.] Of course not.

[An irritated lash of the tail seems to be all he lets on about being offended, if that's even a thing. His demeanor is calm-- possibly more level-headed than it should be, even.] Are you? [he fires back, ruby-red eyes narrowed with skepticism.]

[cantseame]

[Well, that's a good way to demonstrate his point.]

I doubt these guys would have good enough taste in puns to be my friends. After all, they seem kind of shellfish, don't you think?

[In reality the combat he's been seeing so far is actually taking a toll on him, but one he's yet to register. Still isn't gonna stop his awful jokes, though.]

Can't say as I've seen someone like you before, either. Name's Farraige. Wizard, wielder of Pun-ishing jokes and sometimes water too.

[Said water returns from the pools around them, swirling around him and awaiting his next magical command.]

[shadowblends]

[Congratulations, Farraige. The joke receives a breathy little laugh, head shaking and his eyes rolling, but Kurt's amusement is clear.] Somewhat, ja. No need to worry, though. I can appreciate a nice pun.

[Perhaps, if they get along well, he may even make a few of his own. Time will tell in this case and names are a good place to start. His heel comes down on the back of the neck to immobilize his enemy, pointed canines dipping over a blue lower lip.] A pleasure to meet you, Farraige. I'm Kurt. Or 'Nightcrawler,' if you'd rather use a codename. [He's never sure what people would prefer.] Teleporter. The only thing I've wielded besides this [a brief flash of the knife at his side] is a rapier.

[Another haze of smoke and a bamf later, he's on a tree that's closer to the proclaimed wizard.] Interesting, [he notes.] Back in my homeworld, you're what we'd classify as Homo sapien superior.

[cantseame]

German, huh? Always wanted to go, never could. Had to clean up a mess in the states first.

[A codename? Interesting. Kelphead has to wonder if he's military where he comes from.]

With a name like that, you gotta be some sort of secret agent. Being able to teleport like that is impressive, too. Usually displacing living matter and keeping it from exploding or falling apart is incredibly difficult, even for wizards much older than me.

[He at least understands Kurt is trying to call him human, but it doesn't completely make sense.]

I dunno that I'd call myself superior to someone else.

[shadowblends]

A shame. I recommend it should you ever find your way back home. 'States' as in the 'United States?'

[Not military, per se, yet he's certainly training for war. Or, preferably, for one that won't come anytime soon. (In his lifetime, if he's lucky.)]

Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm nothing that special. [Yet, anyway. They're X-Men, regardless of what others say, though Kurt can't help feeling like he doesn't quite belong in that category. The boy's still young and impulsive (all of them are), far too quick to leap before looking in his opinion.] Thank you. There's a man here by the name of Stark. He wants to run energy tests, see what makes the displacements work.

[Something he's all too willing to figure out.]

No, that's not— [Frown.] Homo superior is the proper name for a 'mutant.'

[cantseame]

Yeah. The old masters were eventually going to send me all over, but they figured I should start with some home turf to get my feet wet.

[He might disagree about Kurt not being special, dude seemed pretty cool to him.]

I'm guessing this Stark guy is a scientist? Dunno if I've met him yet.

[Farraige pauses for a moment at Kurt's explanation. It does kind of sting to hear himself described as a mutant, something inhuman, but he doesn't let it linger overlong. Play it off with a joke.]

I mean... Where I come from, mutant was one of the nicer things people called someone with magical talent.

[shadowblends]

Sound logic, in my opinion. I started using my abilities as soon as it was possible.

[Disagree all you like; he'll continue to insist that special agents are far more skillful than he is.]

Physicist, [he corrects.] Tony is his first name. I'm not sure if I should use it or not, since he is my elder. [Politeness could be a downfall for some people. Kurt's getting better with not letting people walk all over him, but there are those times.]

What else were you called? [Some mutants appeared normal, maybe the oddly colored hair, eyes, or other peculiar feature. Something that might be easily hidden and sometimes, not even that. They look completely human compared to Kurt, who's suffered other names such as 'demon,' 'freak,' and 'abomination.' He's almost positive hellspawn has been used before, too.

This isn't a contest, though, so he sees no need to mention any of them.]