Playing with Fire

There's a nod at that, a soft fond huff, at the very least the change is a welcome one. Strange, certainly, but welcome. That's something. ❝Yeah, you say that now- things get a little.. chaotic around here.❞ That's one way to put it, certainly.

"I don't think I spotted any other versions of me. It's nice to know they're out there, though, some of them with versions of you. I can wait for the stories." Desperately curious as she is!

Expect a lot of questions... about you. He'll want to know everything.

Rachel quails internally at that.

...She hopes she'll get a chance to wait for the stories.

"I'll answer the questions," she says softly. She's been planning to do that anyway. But Cable doesn't know enough yet to know what those answers -- wait, does he? Could her Askani sister-self have gone through anything like it and told him?

Madelyne didn’t flinch when the headlights came screaming across the lot. She’d already felt the pulse of adrenaline in Rachel before the car moved, before they weren’t in contact with the ground anymore. Just a hum of pressure in her gut, a flicker of something deeper that wasn’t quite fear.

She steadied herself instinctively, one hand braced against the dash, the other curling slightly in her lap, not to summon anything yet, but reflexive.

When Rachel murmured, Madelyne’s mouth curved into a small, sharp smile. Like Rachel had asked if she could handle making tea. " Of course I can, " she said lightly, though her eyes were already tracking the other car, watching the pattern of movement like she was watching a dance she could step into at any moment. Her voice stayed soft, almost amused. " But I think she’s got it. Fear’s a hell of a teacher. "

The other vehicle skidded slightly, wheels protesting as it slowed, angling wide into the empty stretch. Madelyne flicked her fingers once, discreet, a tug at the ambient energy to nudge the momentum just a touch further off its dangerous edge. Enough to keep it safe. Enough that the driver wouldn’t even notice.

She leaned back, gaze cutting sidelong toward Rachel with something warmer behind her smirk. " You made the right call. No one got crushed. The car’s fine. And that - " she added, tapping her fingers against the console with a lazy rhythm, " - was very satisfying."

A quiet moment before she added, "…Do we count that as your first evasive manoeuvre, or should we wait until someone’s shooting at us? "

Madelyne’s fingers lingered on the console a moment longer before she glanced out at the now-still parking lot. The quiet settled in like an exhale, headlights fading, tires cooling. She tilted her head, assessing Rachel not with concern, but with something quieter. Not motherly. Not quite sisterly either. Something stranger, softer.

" Alright, " she said, voice pitched like a decision had just been made. " I’m stealing you. "

She popped open the passenger door and stood, stretching her arms over her head with a low, satisfied noise, curls catching in the spring light. Her heels clicked lightly as she came around the car to Rachel’s side, leaning in the open window.

" You just saved your first idiot civilian and didn't vaporize a transmission, " she grinned. " That deserves fries. Possibly pie. Something with syrup and poor nutritional value. "

And then she added, mock conspiratorial, " Also, I think that car’s driver’s about thirty seconds from realizing something weird happened, so unless you wanna get your first ‘so are you an X-Man?’ speech in a parking lot - "

She fell silent again as Madelyne took a moment to contemplate her -- the other woman's air thoughtful, fond -- and met the appraisal with a little bemusement, then blinked and let out a little laugh in surprise at the conclusion. "--Stealing me?"

Moments later she was looking up at Madelyne in the window and oooh, fries and pie sounded amazing.

   He feels the burning, blazing walls keeping his mind from truly connecting to her’s part for him and David lets out a relieved breath. He visibly relaxes, his eyes closing as he slips gently into that gap. Just the fact that she’s letting him in is a mark in her favour. He shudders at the thought of what could have happened if she had refused. He would have had to force his way in, would have had to batter her barriers, and his is an untrained mind of extreme power. He could have pushed too hard and killed her or just shattered her mind entirely. This is better. This is kinder.

   Rachel, for that’s the name her mind provides, continues to talk but words are no longer necessary. They become a low drone at the edge of his awareness as he dives deep into what makes her tick. He sees the moment when his father, panicked and desperate, called for her help in finding him. David feels her discomfort with being made to hunt a mutant, again, but there is also a determination to help and perhaps please.

   Her words mention a grim past and David sees the pieces of a horrific future. He sees the destruction, the eradication and subjugation of so many. He sees Rachel imprisoned and manipulated and trained to hunt her own kind, and he feels the pain of it.

   And beneath it all, beneath these visions and shards of her past, he feels her genuine desire to help him. He feels her anger at his treatment, at his imprisonment. But David also feels fear and worry. She’s concerned he is what his father says that he will cause untold destruction if he isn’t contained. Maybe they’re both, maybe he will hurt people without meaning to, but David knows he can’t stay caged his whole life. It’s killing him.

   “See?” he whispers to himself. “She’s not a threat. She doesn’t want to hurt us.”

   Fine, kid, comes Jack’s huffy reply. You can handle this but if I get even a hint that she’s going to betray us I am going to telepathically crush her bones.

   David grunts a half-hearted affirmative before raising his head and locking his gaze on Rachel. He sighs, his arms loosening their grip around his torso to drop his hands into his lap.

Rachel's able to watch his explorations, somewhat; it's her mind he's poking around, after all.

She is a little miffed at the certainty that he could have destroyed and would have had to destroy her by accident. All right, if he's actually capable of being a world-cracking threat, it's not implausible, but -- she thinks grimly -- maybe David's not immune to the "might be dangerous, better go ahead and break it" concept either.

He looks into the memories of her other past, and to keep from flinching or trying to shut him back out, she chews her tongue until it bleeds.

--And when he's done with that, he wants to leave. Wander off on his own, younger than she is, with godling powers and approximately zero experience. Of course he doesn't want anything to do with the school, Xavier's had him kept comatose in the basement. But she stumbled into enough trouble with more training and control, received help and accidentally got the helper killed, and unless David can (when properly conscious) create everything he needed out of thin air... and maybe even then.... She cannot make herself believe this is going to go well.

Rachel lifts her hands to rub her temples. Unsurprisingly, this does very little about the headache, the puzzle causing it, or the impulse to scream in frustration. She can't scream; it would definitely be at least partly telepathic. That would get Xavier's attention, and if she gets Xavier's attention? She's going to be yelling a lot of questions mostly consisting of variations on what is wrong with you, David's going to be furious and see it as a betrayal, and all their options are going to abruptly narrow.

And-- that's it. Oh, nobody's going to particularly like it, but at least it's a better idea than what they've got. She bundles up her brief memories of wandering here alone and shoves them at him, predominated by the grief and horror and guilt and rage of finding out someone had died for trying to help her, not even because he could have gotten in Selene's way but just because he was present.

"I don't think that's a good idea no matter how powerful you are," she counters. "I know you're going to hate this idea, but listen anyway. Please. Come back with me. We duck Xavier and find Jean and Scott first if we can, or else we're loud. The important part is other people know. My parents think he's better than that, they argue with him when he doesn't live up to what he preaches, they'll hold him to it. He's not going to put you back in the basement if you're -- if you're in the kitchen working out powers training with my mom over soup."

Possibly this part is one or the other Scott's influence, but she really, desperately wants to give David soup. It would probably be good for him but she is pretty sure she has latched onto the concept to an irrational degree.

"He did mention," he agrees with a light chuckle. Some of the time-displacement nuances, what little they discussed, went over his head, but he could tell that Scott was similarly in over his head and tried not to ask too many questions. "It's my fault for following your strict family procedure without realizing. I might have phoned ahead with some credentials if I'd known."

He probably should have done that anyway.

"Admittedly, I'm on a bit of a... frivolous endeavor, I suppose you could say." It has purpose to him, but does that purpose hold any weight to it? He's not so sure. Simon's rubbing the back of his neck absently as he continues. "I... don't live around here, but when I'd heard that there was someone like me around here, I was hit with a, uh... travel-bug that I couldn't quite shake loose." Which definitely ties back into calling ahead.

"Anyway, talking to Dad is generally good, and I'm not gonna argue if you want to call it frivolous, but meeting up to compare notes with somebody with similar powers sounds like a pretty good reason to visit, especially if that's new?" Maybe she's arguing after all. Oops. It might be growing up at the school that makes this seem like a completely natural thing to do; people were coming there to learn about their powers all the time.

Rachel has been vaguely and involuntarily aware that there's a new arrival who's been spending at least some time with her dad. She's nevertheless a little surprised to find him with a visor reminiscent of Scott's, and more surprised he isn't actually wearing it. "Oh, hey," she says. "I'm Rachel Summers. This is going to be such a weird question if the answer is no, but are you another relative?"

A question that might be a little stranger had Scott not already taken the first opportunity he saw to gush about all the relatives of his that do live in this house. Nothing too in-depth, of course, and nothing that would make those relatives uncomfortable, but enough to make the assumption that that's a fair question. Four sons and one daughter. Sheesh.

Acknowledgement aside, it still takes the man a moment to remember that he's in unfamiliar company and should at least smile in polite recognition initially—he does.

"I have a higher threshold for 'weird' than one might think—I can connect a few well-placed dots for your question." He swipes his cleaning cloth across his visor again, both to catch one last streak and for a bit of emphasis. "No relation to my knowledge, Rachel Summers. Simon Paladino." He stands, then, tucking his helmet under one arm while offering a hand out in greeting. He's not quite making eye contact, but he can at least extend the gesture.

Also, fortunately, he seems unfazed by her impulsive question.

She lights up with an answering smile when Simon mentions Scott talking about them. "I am the timeline-misplaced daughter, yes!" she says, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, Simon. I do know not everybody with similar powers is related, honestly, it's just that we -- family members -- do seem to keep turning up... as Dad might've mentioned." And goodness knows (apparent) age doesn't give any hints about the relationship or lack thereof so far.

There wasn't time to react. Madelyne was turning towards Rachel as her voice echoed through her mind but time had slowed, all at once the scene exploded into chaos.

Madelyne felt Rachel's fear, knew the situation was far worse then even she'd suspected but it was too late. One by one these survivors morphed into their true form. Sentinels. Her own fear and adrenalin swam through her veins and flooded her mind. Madelyne had clawed her way back, lost so much, too much. She refused to go quietly, she refused to die here.

The other students along with their teachers were already retreating further into the manor, into the safe rooms. Rachel and Madelyne were alone here and out numbered. This had to be the plan all along, keep the X-Men busy while these things destroy without distraction and yet, they weren't exactly attacking.

Maybe four of the human-like sentinels were now crawling out the jet, aiming for Rachel but it looked more like distraction then intent. The injured Madelyne had aided must have been damaged in the crash, they hadn't activated correctly and now contorted in and out of their conscious state, like a tv flicking between stations.

Rachel may not be her daughter but that didn't matter here, Madelyne held the fire of a mothers rage seeing the danger coming for her niece. She bolted after her, throwing psionic energy as concentrated blasts. Madelyne kept coming, she kept throwing these blasts in bursts. Keeping the Sentinels from reaching Rachel, even if they weren't yet attacking. Madelyne knew the attack would follow soon and refused to let them take Rachel.

Madelyne reached into Rachels mind. " Get to the house. Get a message out. I'll lead them away "

Not giving Rachel time to react Madelyne drove the group of Sentinels in the opposite direction, away from the Manor, away from Rachel. Her plan seemed to work, like moths to a flame they followed until Madelyne miscounted and a sentinel managed to flank her blindside. He opened fire on her, not bullets but electric currents strong enough to stun a dinosaur.

Madelyne screamed in pain before everything went dark. Falling to the ground, her mind racing as she begged the universe, 'not like this.'

Rachel froze when the transformations started.

Madelyne's command was sensible. Part of her recognized that. Getting a message out would be logical -- more or less, given that they still didn't know what happened to the X-Men -- but Rachel was convinced, rationally or not, that the Sentinels were after Madelyne.

--And she was not very rational, not seeing them. Sentinels were nightmare enough. Sentinels on the Mansion grounds were the beginning of her world falling apart. But those had been the giant robots.

Here, somebody had found a way to hide Sentinels in plain sight.

These were people. These were people, like her, like the other Hounds Ahab had eventually brought in. They might be afraid of mutants, might hate them, she hadn't read their minds in detail, but they'd been afraid of something that wasn't her.

They'd been afraid of this.

She didn't even know if they'd consciously known, but they'd been afraid of it. Of this transformation, if not this task. Of losing their will, being made tools, being made monsters. (Like her.)--

Whether that was their purpose or not, they left her easily enough to chase Madelyne instead. Rachel was frozen for only a few seconds, but in a fight, that was an eternity.

She shot into the air to chase them, grabbing at the Prime Sentinels with her telekinesis and finding them peculiarly hard to get a grip on. Slippery somehow, like and unlike fighting another telekinetic. The thought made her queasy.

   Then she backs up a bit, and his face breaks into a wide grin. David even lets out a laugh.

   “I knew y’ weren't dead,” he says, the excitement and genuine show of emotion completely at odds with how the Grey Princess curtsies, showing him the formal respect a prince is supposed to have. “Y’ parents are gonna be overjoyed!”

   In spite of his joy, David is taking note of her appearance. The brief glimpse of a chemise before she covers herself in a glorious burning feather dress. The exhaustion on her features. The hints of bruising on her skin and arms. All signs that make David’s skin crawl and a create a growing rage in his gut. Whatever has happened to her has been cruel and twisted. Whatever it is David is certain it has something to do with her aggressive behaviour.

   Which means something has changed about her situation. Why would she agree to speak with him if she was still in the throws of her rampage? At first David is thrilled by her agreement and then she continues. The smile on his features shatters, eyebrows knitting into a fierce frown. His head tilts in confusion. Not having much time, he can get but that last part?

   “What?” he hisses, Rachel once again turning into her firebird form.

   Her words stun him long enough that David doesn’t get a chance to respond before she’s winging away. He swears under his breath and quickly tethers himself to Rachel. A magical thread tying their very beings together and letting him get tugged along with her. He doesn’t want to lose her, not after gaining this chance. He does propel himself along some, doing his best to fly beside the great bird and match her speed.

Discouragement hits Rachel as she decides she has to start away without a response, and barely later, she belatedly processes his mention of her parents. She almost falters in the air -- her parents, she's not even sure when she last thought of them. Almost turns back, but she can't, she doesn't have time. She has to undo as much as she can, has to try to wring herself and the firebird empty, and she drives herself ruthlessly forward.

But maybe she didn't give him enough time, maybe she can turn back and ask for help. Remembering her parents reminds her they always said cooperation was important. Maybe the time is worth it, maybe she'd better--

--Even as she turns her head, she feels the tether take hold. Relief shocks through her. He is with her. Rachel takes a grip as well, better two holding on than one.

His voice in her head, too, is encouraging. They can talk easily, then. It wouldn't have been a given that a son in conflict with King Charles would be comfortable speaking mind to mind.

He won't kill her. No. Kind, but no!

Thrall-- Yes, he knows, or at least he guessed.

Why--

The firebird screams.

--David would probably be more comfortable speaking mind to mind if her first response were anything but the involuntary wail it is, a soul-deep cry bearing the despair of having succumbed, of having put the firebird in Ahab's power, of finding herself made a weapon against her home. Whether David flinches or not, she does.

<I'm sorry,> she replies, as soon as she can silence herself. <I -- I am in thrall, as you said. To Ahab. I know he hates anyone born to magic.... I'm not sure he hates other people who trained into it much less. I think -- he likes causing pain, and he wants to control as much magic as he can?> Honestly, he mostly seems to like hating people. But this isn't immediately important.

<He sent me to attack. He sent me to steal the golden apples, but then he couldn't get them away from me. They wouldn't go to him. He beat me until he hurt himself, and when he felt better I obeyed him and went over the cliff before I could actually fly, so that slowed things down while I healed.> Not long enough.

   He’s pondering this when he catches her reapplying his illusion. David’s face breaks into a grin, his eyes sparkling with the mischief of it. He also feels quite proud of the Grey Princess. Sure, he said the spell was simple but often David forgets people don’t see the connections and links that he does, and here is Rachel copying his spell after only seeing him take it apart once.

   “Well done,” he says, that pride clear in his voice. “You’ll be a menace to the Grey court in no time.”

   David moves away from Rachel and returns to his armchair. He drops into it, snatching up his book and flipping through the pages until he gets to the start of the chapter, he’d been half reading. Before he gets back to those words his head tilts, a thought occurring to him.

She sighs -- only quietly, more of a deep breath. She's self-aware enough to know she has a crush, and it's partly because he's handsome and partly because he saved her and partly because he seems like he could use a friend and an ally. Two of those are also good reasons to pursue a friendship, and he's amenable to that much. Anything else, well, she'll find out eventually. Right now she's having fun with the groundwork (foundation for friendship, forays for flirtation).

Rachel's eyebrows rise at the afterthought of caution, and she grins. "Oh, I don't think she'll blame you too much," she says, her eyes slowly lighting with mischief and magic. "The first time I had to put a library in order, it was entirely warranted. I was starting to show my power and I decided to play with the books."

She is playing with the books now. She grips all of them at once, and they lift from their places. The faintest traces of dust and dirt, anything their feet might have carried to the otherwise well-swept floor, flee a second simultaneous spell. Then the first and heaviest books land softly, and others flurry after onto them until David's armchair is surrounded by a pavilion made of graceful arches.

   He’s not sure he explained that well. For a moment he still feels some confusion coming from Rachel, but she assures him he gave her what she needed. He decides not to delve deeper and just accept her words at face value. Pocking around in her thoughts and realising he’s done a shit job of vocalising his total lack of knowledge will not do good things for his already low self-esteem. So, David just sort of nods at her apology and offer to come inside. That takes him by surprise. He figured she’d make him wait outside the house, but he supposes she’s nicer than that.

   David follows Rachel inside. He hunches a little, making himself smaller and unconsciously projects a cloud of mental obfuscation. Just a bit of misdirection so no one else clocks his presence. He’s sure he picked a moment when he’d be unlikely to run into anyone else and yet, he can’t help the nerves. He can’t help the way he hesitates a little too long before walking into the building and hurrying his steps to catch up with Rachel.

   Then there is the fact that he’s no help when she’s searching out suitable practice items. He just sort of hovers around her, following her like a lost puppy and moving aside whenever he’s in the way. Which only fuels his growing anxiety. David even audibly sighs in relief when Rachel finally produces everything she was looking for. His shoulders relax, a small smile on his lips.

He seems happier when they head outside, at least, and asks if it's supposed to be fun. Well, yeah. Well, why would he know that? It's not always fun, though it's nice when it can be, and she's not sure anybody tried that or the other way with him much.

"That's the idea!" she says, handing him a bubble wand. She draws her own and sweeps it through the air so slowly the soap film filling the loops barely quivers, then whips it back so the film snaps and she only gets a couple of tiny bubbles. Back into the tube, and out, and an intermediate wave that lofts a stream of bubbles into the breeze.