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| A Night of Dark Promise; [Max, Mystique, Open] | |
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| Topic Started: Nov 3 2007, 07:20 AM (682 Views) | |
| Warren Worthington | Nov 11 2007, 08:40 PM Post #16 |
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Warren smiled as Ari took the cue and stepped up to take over talking to Max about the artwork, and Magdalena joined in as well to encourage the dark haired mutant to agree to the viewing. He couldn’t help but feel proud for the young woman standing at his side, she was holding her own well, but then he hadn’t expected any less. “Thank you Max.” Warren said sincerely. “I’ve got your card, so either Ari or myself will be able to contact you later on to organise a date and time.” Warren said, glancing towards both Max and ri to make sure that was okay. “I hear this grand opening was lured quite a few of the old crowd from Manhattan… except the Richards, of course, not with their current family troubles…with their making arrangements to send their son, Robert, away… to Somerset; it’s hardly surprising they stayed home.” Warren knew something was coming, something about Max’s tone and the turn of the man’s head. He knew it well, had seen Max speak in such a way when he was manipulating the person he was speaking to, dropping a name or a word into the conversation that he knew would provoke a reaction. He had been braced for something about Candy maybe, or her parents but when it came it was not what he expected and that made his reaction all the more uncontrollable. A muscle twitched as Warren’s jaw clenched, lips thinning while his eyes flashed with a dark rage. Max had clearly struck a nerve. The fact that Somerset was still in business was enough to agitate Warren, but having it placed so bluntly in front of him and the example of some poor child being sent there was enough to send anger flooding through his veins. But he didn’t believe Max had said that to solely initiate such a reaction. He was letting Warren know so he could possibly help. That did little to control the need to leave the room that was gripping Warren. “It’s a shame they couldn’t come tonight.” Warren replied politely, his face schooled once again to that of the laid back socialite most people in the room knew. “If you’ll please excuse me, I need to make a phone call outside.” He said, smiling politely at Magdalena and Max. “It was a pleasure to meet you Magdalena.” He said courteously, before looking down at Ari, touching her arm lightly. “I’ll just be outside.” He told her quietly and then turned sharply on his heal, heading for the back exit. He stepped out the door into the cold night air, his breath steaming away from his mouth. He felt vaguely nauseous and shaky, his breath rasping a little in his throat. It wasn’t just the mention of the hospital where he had lain in a coma as a child, it was the associated memories; the beating before hand that had placed him in the hospital, the horrible shock of waking alone in a dark hospital room groggy and in pain, a breathing tube clogging his throat, and then finding his wings were gone. Of course there was also the fact his parents were on an ‘unavoidable’ business trip when he woke up which seemed to sum up his entire relationship with his mother and father. The whole series of events had the air of a nightmare, made even worse by the fact he was child when it had happened and everything seemed so much worse. Twenty years, and it still had the power to send him stumbling from a room, filled with anger and fear. Once he was out of site of the door he had exited from, Warren cleaned against the cold wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, wishing he could block out the flood of emotions and memories. He had his wings back now, he reminded himself, putting a hand under his shirt and feeling the feathers bound against his back as if to reassure himself. |
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| Ari Boyd | Nov 11 2007, 09:31 PM Post #17 |
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Ari had not been expecting such a great response to the idea of viewing her artwork. She grinned back at Magdalena, finding that the woman was as charming as she was pretty. "Disculpa," she said with a smile and a bow of her head. "I had no idea I'd be so welcomed," she said with a smile towards the trio, feeling thankful towards Warren for his help as well as Magdalena's prodding. At Max's complimentary words, she let out a semi-nervous chuckle, her head nodding in agreement with Warren. "Yes, thank you, Max." Smiling towards Magdalena, she added, "And you as well." Her gaze remained on the trio, and inwardly she felt completely thrilled. That had been a lot easier than she'd ever imagined it might be. Not that Max was already putting her pieces up or anything, but still, he'd agreed to give her a chance. That was more than Ari had ever hoped for. She made a note to thank Warren later, for he was helping her in ways that no one else could. This was her possible future, after all. She looked towards him, staring practically, although Max was speaking. Ari couldn't help herself; she just wanted to throw her arms around Warren and plant kisses all over his face in thanks. She didn't fully understand what Max was talking about, dismissing it as rich people business. But the look that crossed Warren's face was not so easily discarded. Ari's eyebrows knit together for a flash of a moment, wondering what in Max's words could have enticed such a response from the winged mutant. And then Warren was excusing himself, touching her arm and exiting without further word. How...awkward. Ari knew it was her time to exit, now that Warren had left her. She was nowhere near confident enough to continue speaking with Max and Magdalena while Warren wasn't there. Not to mention that Ari was concerned for him, and wanted to know what had sent him running off like that. Turning back to the two dark-haired people, Ari forced an easy smile on her face, "Well, I won't take up anymore of your time. Thank you so much for everything, Max." She reached out a hand and quickly took his into a shake. "And it was great meeting you, Magdalena," she said, giving the woman's delicate hand a pump. Looking between them, Ari smiled easily and added, "Enjoy the rest of the night." Making her way through the throngs of people, Ari finally stepped outside, the cold air hitting her skin like she'd awoken from some strange dream. She hadn't realized how stuffy it had been in there. Sleeveless and a plunging neckline was no good in this weather, and her hands came up around herself, shivering slightly. Unfortunately, Ari had exited through the front, and looking up and down the street, she saw no sign of Warren. She knew without a doubt that he wouldn't have left her...Or so she hoped. Walking quietly along the side of the building, she headed towards the back end, her eyes everywhere and hoping that she wouldn't encounter some creep in the alleyway. Warren came into view and Ari breathed a sigh of relief, but it was clear that not all was well. His eyes were closed and he was fiddling under his jacket. Moving until she was almost directly in front of him, Ari said quietly, "Warren?" She moved towards him without hesitance, taking his hand in her own, her arm brushing against the cold of the brick wall. "What was that back there?" she asked in a whisper, her brown eyes filled with worry and concern for the man she had grown to care so much about. [align=center][Exit Ari & Warren to In the Dark][/align] |
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| Mystique | Nov 12 2007, 06:07 AM Post #18 |
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“In that case… Please, dine with me,” [Max] said. “It would be an enormous favor to me.” He smiled playfully in mock self-deprecation, “I’d never live it down if people knew I didn’t have a date for my own grand opening.” A slow smile appeared on her lips and to anyone looking it would appear that Magdalena was genuinely pleased, but it was just another mask. "Why, Mr. Coleridge, I would be delighted," she replied coolly, and there was no hint of any overzealous reaction in her voice. Where some women would've been tripping all over themselves to accept his invitation she acted as if it was no more exciting to her than any other event in her day. There was no denying that she knew how to play this game, and play it well. She gave him a grin, though supposedly he couldn't see it. "I have a hard time believing someone like you would have trouble finding a suitable companion for a night like this," she murmured cheerily. "Is there something you're not telling me?" she added teasingly. She watched the exchange between Warren and Max with a hidden level of interest and filed away the name 'Somerset' away in the back of her mind for future research. She nodded gently and gave the blond man a smile as he made his exit, and did the same to Ari. "Take care; I'll be looking for your work here in the gallery soon. Don't let me down now," she added with a gentle wink as the younger woman walked away. And then there were two. Or something like that. Her brows knitted together in false concern as she turned back to Max. "Well that was rather odd. Is your friend alright? He seemed a bit...perturbed, I suppose would be the word." She gave a gentle shrug of her shoulders and flipped her hair over her shoulder, releasing a light, almost unnoticeable wave of sweet yet somewhat spicy perfume. |
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| Max_Coleridge | Nov 12 2007, 05:11 PM Post #19 |
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Darkforce Manipulation, Teleportation
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"I have a hard time believing someone like you would have trouble finding a suitable companion for a night like this," she murmured cheerily. "Is there something you're not telling me?" she added teasingly. Over the years, he’d perfected his ‘blind man’ performance: turning to face people but seldom facing them squarely, tilting his face as if listening was his sole means of perceiving the world around him, moving in that semi-guarded way as though he were continually conscious of the dangers of moving in a dark world. And yet, Magdalena smiled and flirted with him as though she knew it was an image. In the darkness behind his lenses, his eyes focused on her with the intensity of a hunter. “Oh… definitely. But you don’t want me to spill all my secrets, do you?” He teased, “What kind of challenge would that be?” He continued to tease her playfully but laced a subtle trace of mockery into his voice, easily missed by someone who wasn’t paying careful attention, “You aren’t someone who likes things easy, are you?” While Max wasn’t surprised the name had affected Warren, it was startling that the effect was still that strong and the wound still fresh after nearly two decades. His lips turned down in a frown of confused and concerned at Warren’s sudden departure. He fumbled a weak handshake as Ari too made her hasty farewells before exiting. "Well that was rather odd. Is your friend alright? He seemed a bit...perturbed, I suppose would be the word." Max turned back toward Magdalena, “You aren’t going remember a sudden engagement and rush off as well, are you?” He teased her with a playful smile. “As for Warren, even when we were kids, he was always a bit … flighty,” he said, smiling at the word choice. Magdalena stood so close to him that he could smell the light spicy aroma from her skin and feel her warmth. He turned to mysterious beauty at his side, “The worst part of these events is making through ‘til the end, a feat I’ve never accomplished yet.” He spoke with an air of boredom in his voice, “Someone doesn’t have to be blind to see how dull these things are.” |
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| Mystique | Nov 14 2007, 02:23 AM Post #20 |
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“Oh… definitely. But you don’t want me to spill all my secrets, do you?” [Max] teased, “What kind of challenge would that be?…You aren’t someone who likes things easy, are you?” Her dark eyes, which had previously been flickering over the others in the gallery, turned back towards him. She caught that slight edge of mockery in his voice and suddenly the game was taken to a new, more dangerous level. A new question began to form, aside from those that had been in her mind when she made the decision to come here tonight. In this game of cat and mouse, just who was the predator, and who was the prey? A slow, secretive smile spread across her lush lips, the expression hinting at a smirk. “No, I suppose you’re right, that certainly wouldn’t be much of a challenge,” she agreed, her voice a low purr. She leaned forward slightly and her lips hovered near his ear. “I suppose that means I’ll just have to learn your secrets the old fashioned way,” she murmured huskily. “You aren’t going remember a sudden engagement and rush off as well, are you?” He teased her with a playful smile. She chuckled, cocking her head to the side gently in a contemplative manner. “Hmm…let me check my date book,” she joked lightly, giving him a dazzling, good-natured smile that she was almost sure he could see. “Oh, what do you know? I’ve got a dentist’s appointment at 9:00 tonight that I just completely forgot about. Will you excuse me?” Laughing lightly she shifted a bit closer towards him, moving out of the path of a group of businessmen currently making their rounds about the room. Gently she laid her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Max, I’m yours for the rest of the night.” There was a suggestive hint to her voice but she didn’t elaborate on it, instead let it dangle there like bait on a hook. Only time would tell if Max was going to take it, though. “The worst part of these events is making through ‘til the end, a feat I’ve never accomplished yet.” He spoke with an air of boredom in his voice, “Someone doesn’t have to be blind to see how dull these things are.” Mystique let out a merry laugh at that. “But this is your gallery, shouldn’t you be thrilled?” she queried lightly, though it was evident by her tone that she knew the answer to that. “Truthfully, I come to these things for the people. I’ll admit it, though, most are dreadfully dull. But then every now and then you find someone who is genuinely…intriguing,” she added nonchalantly with a little smile. |
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| Max_Coleridge | Nov 14 2007, 04:49 PM Post #21 |
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At the start of the evening, the plan had been clear – make a brief appearance at the opening, make sure he was seen and then slip away quietly, out to the streets. In truth, he preferred the streets, where he could be alone with his thoughts. The encounter with Warren had been a boon for establishing his presence in Salem but the woman at his side was another matter though, an enigma; he assumed she wanted something from him, everyone did, and hoped she would be more interesting than a reporter or hired by a competitor. Max felt the warm hand on his arm and seductive words: “Don’t worry, Max, I’m yours for the rest of the night,” in his ear. He turned toward her, his face tantalizingly close to hers. “I don’t know what I did to get so lucky but hopefully, you’ll let me know, so I can keep doing it.” In his mind, the scale was slowly tipping in the direction of her being an assassin. Her smooth confidence was telling and her unspoken invitation, even more so. “But this is your gallery, shouldn’t you be thrilled?” she queried lightly, though it was evident by her tone that she knew the answer to that. “Truthfully, I come to these things for the people. I’ll admit it, though, most are dreadfully dull. But then every now and then you find someone who is genuinely…intriguing,” she added nonchalantly with a little smile. “Intriguing?” His fingers brushed against her forearm; they glided lightly down Magdalena’s smooth bare arm to her hand, which he lifted and placed at the crook of his elbow. “Over dinner, I’ll try to work my up to fascinating,” he said, turning his back on the milling gallery of patrons; they would continue to network and tell each other lies without him needing to be there. The two companions he arrived with separated, the one with the coffee complexion strode ahead and nodded to the maitre d’ while the other woman slipped discreetly behind Max and Magdalena. As though it had been rehearsed, the head waiter fell into step at Max’s other side, chatting amiably about the night’s progress; all the while, a hand on Max’s elbow maneuvered them through cozy dining areas to one that was obviously more elegantly decorated and seemed to be the center of attention – the King’s Court. “Thank you, Stevens,” Max said after Magdalena had ordered; Stevens didn’t Max for his order nor did Max volunteer it. Throughout dinner, it was obvious that everything from the arrangement of the food on his plate to the wine in his glass was calculated to lessen Max’s appearance of blindness. At the conclusion of the dinner, Max waited for a lull in the conversation and offered her an opportunity. “Magdalena, I’ve had a riveting evening. Would it be unforgivably greedy of me to not want it to end?” He casually extended hand, offering it to her. “Would you care to join me for a nightcap? I hear the view from my penthouse is the best in the city; it’s a shame it gets wasted on me.” |
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| Mystique | Nov 16 2007, 10:02 PM Post #22 |
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JP between Mystique & Max Mystique smiled coolly as he took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow, letting out a quiet laugh at his words. “Don’t worry, Max, I’ll let you know the moment you make that step up,” she teased lightly as she walked along side him into the restaurant, casting a brief glance at the head waiter as he led Max to the table. Throughout dinner she kept a mental note of all the peculiarities about the meal. Max had obviously pre-ordered, and everything was laid out before him in a precise manner. Whenever he picked something up, whether it be his wine glass, a fork, or a knife, he always put it back in the exact same place. When his meal was brought out the waiter placed it on the table just so, and Max never once moved it. If he wasn’t actually blind he was putting on a damn good show of it. His invitation caused her to quirk a brow; this was almost too easy. He had to have caught on by now, and the idea that they were both treading that thin line between passion and violence excited her just a little bit. If he hadn’t caught on, though, she was going to be sorely disappointed. Gently, she placed her delicate hand in his. “I think you’d be surprised what kind of greed can be forgiven,” she teased lightly. “I’d be delighted to accompany you.” Her hand was soft and warm within his, which he continued to hold as they arose and walked to out of the room, to a nearby elevator. Unlike their journey to his table, Max and Magdalena were alone but the path simple and kept clear of obstacles. They entered the richly decorated elevator; Max dug into a pocket, fumbled out a key ring and inserted one with a black grip into the penthouse slot. “Living here has the benefit of a short commute time,” he chuckled, “and drinking at dinner without the worry of driving home after.” He grinned sheepishly and laughed, “Not that that would be a problem for me… drinking actually improves my driving.” The doors opened with a ding, and holding Magdalena’s hand, Max stepped into the darkness of his penthouse. Mystique guessed that he’d walked the path from the table to the elevator dozens of times, and had a brief thought of how awkward it would be should someone stick a foot out in the path or something of the like. Really, she was terrible. Her fingers intertwined smoothly with his as they stepped into the elevator, and she watched with interest as he found the right key by feeling the grips. His words brought a light chuckle from her throat. “Yes, I can see how that would have its advantages,” she agreed with a smirk. “No one will ever pull you over for a DUI,” she pointed out with a grin as she followed him out of the elevator. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and she played the part well, hanging back for a few moments even as he moved confidently into the apartment. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I turned on the light,” she said lowly, reaching out with her free hand and feeling along the wall until she came to a dimmer switch. As the lights came up her gaze swept over the whole of the apartment, taking in everything within the space of a few seconds. There wasn’t a single aspect of the room that she didn’t notice. The decorations were sparse yet tasteful, and she figured he had paid someone to decorate for him. Most of his art pieces were statues, though there were a few paintings on the walls to even things out. There was no television that she could see – why would there be? – but there was a rather expensive looking stereo system set up in one corner, and as her eyes traveled upwards towards the ceiling she noticed several speakers built in. All the furniture was done in soft, touchable leather, and the pillows were some sort of patterned fabric. What stuck out to her most were the auditory decorations. There was a clock on one wall, a bubbling water fountain on a shelf, and several other objects that periodically made a noise to help him navigate around the apartment. She slowly stepped away from him, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor quietly as she made her way to the sliding glass doors that led out onto the balcony, setting her purse down on a table. “Oh my goodness, Max, you weren’t exaggerating,” she murmured as she stepped in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. “The view is amazing.” She was only half-seeing the city of Salem stretched out before her, though, and watched Max through his reflection in the perfectly polished glass. Max halted his step and turned toward her in confusion and then, with the dimmer clicked, came an expression of fluttered guilt. “I’m sorry, I always forget that when I have company. I never use it; you can’t imagine how many millions I’ve saved on electricity,” he said, the joke coming off as a way to cover his embarrassment at the foible. “What would you like? I have everything?” he called to her from the liquor cabinet. As Magdalena looked at him in the reflection, his head was turned away from the drink he was pouring and watching her. Up until that moment she’d still been back and forth on the idea of whether or not he was truly blind, but when she caught him turned towards her in the reflection the scales slowly began to tip. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she replied, turning away from the window. “Surprise me.” She ambled through the living room. “Do you mind if I look around?” she asked cordially, brushing her fingertips across the surface of a sleek wooden table as she passed it. Her wandering took her into the obviously little-used kitchen and she tapped perfectly manicured fingernails against the marble countertop, her eyes shifting towards the block of kitchen knives near the stove. Her tapping slowed; they didn’t look used at all. “Please, help yourself,” he replied, his ears followed the click of her heels as she toured his apartment. He poured two bourbons in short highball glasses, taking them to the coffee table; he knew he was in plain sight of her through the open breakfast bar. Setting the drinks on the low table, he noticed Magdalena’s purse, casually discarded. His gaze flicked to the bag; inside his mind, he looked through the flimsy material and into its dark interior. He couldn’t see clearly between the folded sides of the wallet but the small derringer pistol caught his attention. Most people would think that 22-caliber couldn’t penetrate far enough to be lethal, but they would be wrong; it would merely take someone with ice in her veins to press the barrel to a man’s neck or behind his ear for the shot to be fatal. She would need to be someone who liked to like at death, up close and personal. “Finding everything?” he asked with a smile. Mystique was just such a person that could stare into a man’s eyes as she pressed a gun to their temple and pulled the trigger; she could watch the light fade from their vision without even blinking. Luckily for Max, though, she wasn’t interested in killing him, at least not tonight. For a few more moments she regarded the knives before his voice drew her away and she wandered back into the living room with a casual, comfortable smile on her face. “You have a beautiful home,” she replied, moving to stand nearby. Her gaze dropped to her purse briefly before she looked back to him. It was silly to carry around a weapon so blatantly, even one as small as a derringer pistol, but she did love her guns. There was an almost palpable tension between them as she picked up her drink and held it up, one side of her full mouth quirked up in a grin. “And what is it we are toasting to tonight?” she asked. Her voice seemed to contain a hint of …something he couldn’t quite read yet, a strange predator glee was the closest he could come to it and seemed to be enjoying some sort of inner amusement he wasn’t party to yet. “To new, intriguing acquaintances,” he said, raising his glass slightly before him, waiting for her to tap her glass to his and sipped. “I must admit, the only way I’ve found that I can really…get to know someone new is to dance with them,” he set down his glass. He again let his fingers drift lightly down her arm to find her hand, “would you mind?” She tapped her glass against his and took a small sip of the burning amber liquid. “To new, fascinating acquaintances,” she amended with a smile, licking her lips briefly. At his question she quirked a brow, the barest hint of a smile playing over her lips as she sat her drink down as well. “Not at all,” she replied, her voice a low murmur as she allowed him to take her hand, then laughed quietly. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s been quite a while since I’ve danced?” she inquired lightly, stepping up closer to him and resting one hand on his shoulder. He chuckled, low in his throat. “I promise, I’ll be gentle,” he replied with a secret smile, slipping his arm around her torso. He pressed a button on a remote control unit for the stereo hidden in recess box on a nearby table and soft music seemed to come from all around them. It wasn’t the most thrilling music, the sort filled with drums, guitars and screaming vocals, but in this kind of dancing, the actual music was really only the background. “For someone who hasn’t danced in quite a while, you move well,” he commented as they came together, their bodies pressing lightly against each other. It was hard to ignore the warmth of her body and the tension rising between them. His hand slipped down her back and along the curve of her waist; although he was finding this an increasingly seductive night, he never lost sight that he was playing with fire. He sighed, inhaling her spicy aroma. “Would you mind if I felt your features?” he asked, his hand already releasing hers and slowly moving up. He stopped a half inch from her cheek, inviting her to bring him closer. There really was something oddly similar about dancing and violence; to be any good at either you had to be light on your feet, graceful, and strong. As soft music filtered in from the speakers she pressed herself lightly to him, moving fluidly as she followed his lead. She let out a quiet murmur of laughter at his words. “I guess it’s one of those things that never quite leave you, like riding a bike, as they say,” she mused thoughtfully, mirroring that secretive smile on his lips. “You are quite nimble as well. Tell me, and don’t lie now because I’ll know if you are, have you taken lessons?” she inquired lightly. The dancing slowed as he voiced his question and she paused for just a brief moment to think. “Not at all,” she replied, and her voice was quieter now as she moved her head just that fraction of an inch to allow his fingertips to brush lightly against her face. To be continued... |
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| Mystique | Nov 16 2007, 10:39 PM Post #23 |
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JP between Mystique & Max, part 2 His lips quirked in a playful smile, “Yes, you’d be hard pressed to find a man in Manhattan, within a certain age range and social class, who wasn’t threatened at knife-point into Dame Ingrid Zimmer’s dance academy; that’s only one of the layers of Hell’s I know Worthington from. Those were time we swore we’d never speak of,” he grinned light-hearted at her. “But, I must admit, they’ve served me well over the years.” She pressed her face into his hand and his sensitive fingers cupped her cheek as his thumb moved over her lips. “What about you?” He inquired, his voice low, acquiring an intimate, bed roomy quality. “Is Spain where you learned?” Her eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise and she laughed, the sound falling from her lips almost genuine. “Oh you poor dears,” she teased lightly. “How on Earth did you ever recover from such a terrible experience?” She gave her head a small shake. “Threatened at knife point, really now, you’re so melodramatic.” She went utterly still as his fingers cupped the curve of her cheek and his thumb brushed over the swell of her lips. “One of the many places, yes,” she murmured in response, her tone matching the suddenly intimate nature of his voice. “But I find real-world experience is the only place one can perfect such a talent…” Slowly, almost hesitantly, her hands moved up towards his face, her fingertips lightly pressing against the sides of his opaque wraparound shades. “May I?” she asked softly. “I want to see your eyes…” His hand closed over hers; although his expression didn’t change, it suddenly froze with tension. Others had tried the same thing, of course, most of them just morbidly curious. However, Magdalena didn’t seem like the kind who was easily put off. “They aren’t…” he shifted his head a little farther away from her reach, “I’ve been told they aren’t a pretty sight. I haven’t been blind…there was an accident.” She remained perfectly still, her interest piqued by his reaction though she didn’t outwardly show it. He seemed genuinely reluctant and she pulled her hand back slightly, lacing her fingers in his. “I don’t scare easily,” she murmured, but left it at that, studying him intently for a few moments before speaking again. “Do you mind if I ask…what happened?” Instantly, one of his many stories poured from his lips. “Several years ago, I was canoeing through the Amazon River, alone…it wasn’t a smart thing to do and I paid for it. A snake dropped into the boat and struck my neck.” He turned his head away, as if pained by the memory. “I went blind for several days and boat drifted to the nearest village on its own.” It was all complete nonsense but at the least, it was entertaining nonsense. He continued to reel off the tragedy with a feigned sorrowful regret as if it had actually happened, “The villagers helped all they could but by the time I reached civilization, the damage was done. The doctors tell me…the venom ruptured blood vessels behind my eyes filling them with blood that stained the orbs black…like a bruise.” He waited, curious at her reaction. Mystique listened to his story, her attention focused solely on him, and amazingly managed to refrain from calling him out on the bullshit. Did he really think she was so stupid as to believe such a ridiculous tale? Canoeing in the Amazon, poisonous snakes? It was almost insulting. Instead of feigning sympathy and sorrow at his misfortune, though, she regarded him silently for a few moments. “What kind of snake was it?” she asked simply, and her words were almost callous in their casualness. If he had any wits about him at all, he would know she was trying to back him into a figurative corner. He shook his head sadly, “I wish I knew. It happened so fast I never saw it. Although that has been a comfort, at least I’m spared the nightmares of remembering it striking as my last moments of sight.” He sighed, although it fit with the story, he was also resigning himself that he’d need to fall back to Plan B to sidetrack the curious woman. “Mmm,” she murmured. “I suppose that is one blessing, then,” she added, though her words were more dismissive than meant to be comforting. Her posture was already perfectly straight but she seemed to stand a bit taller, her eyes going to his neck as she ran her fingertips delicately over the skin of his throat in a feather-light touch. “You are a remarkably lucky man, Max, to have survived such an attack. And without even a scar,” she added. “Oh yes,” he said. At that moment downstairs, a black mist billowed knee high through the club, Haven. A dark, ominous figure, like a man cloaked in darkness passed through a wall and into the club, stalking through the dancing party-goers. The teenagers screamed and rushed away, panicking in all directions and spilling out into the street. “I suppose so…sometimes remarkably lucky.” Through the windows, the entwined pair could hear the blaring scream of police cars converging on the block. In the still of the moment between them, they could hear the approach of the elevator car and the ding of the doors opening. “Mr. Coleridge, I beg your pardon but there’s been an…incident downstairs,” said a man nervously. |
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| Mystique | Nov 16 2007, 10:39 PM Post #24 |
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The sound of approaching sirens pulled her gaze away from Max’s chiseled features and she frowned slightly. “I wonder what’s going on,” she mused aloud, brows knitting together in an expression of false concern. She glanced towards the elevator doors as a quiet ding announced the arrival of a party crasher. At the man’s words she let out a small sigh, looking back to Max. “I suppose this means our evening together is coming to an early end,” she said a bit mournfully, then leaned closer. “I hope that we get a chance to make it up, though,” she added, her voice barely above a whisper and her words meant for him and him alone. With her hand in his she rode down to the bottom floor with Max, where the trio separated. After a brief yet promising good-bye Max was led away by one of his security guards and the other man – the one with a spare key to the penthouse – started to escort her out to her car. “Oh, my coat!” she exclaimed as they passed the coat-check room, and when he ducked into the closet to retrieve it for her, she followed. Moments later Mystique re-emerged, but she was no longer Magdalena. Instead she was Thomas Walker, Head of Security for the King’s Court. His spare key was tucked into the breast pocket of the suit she now wore and she moved swiftly through the crowd, back to the elevator. No one tried to intercept her as she stepped into the car and inserted the key, smiling with grim satisfaction as she was transported up, back to the apartment. Thom’s appearance melted away as she stepped into the darkened apartment and slunk through the shadows, moving nearly silently through the living room and into the bedroom, the only room aside from the bathroom that she hadn’t had the chance to look at earlier. Perhaps there would be a clue as to Max’s true nature in here and she began to rifle through his belongings, though she was careful to put everything back in its place. |
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| Max_Coleridge | Nov 16 2007, 10:42 PM Post #25 |
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Darkforce Manipulation, Teleportation
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She took the end of their evening well… too well; even as she leaned seductively close to him and whispered her desire to see him again and interlace her fingers with his, he knew she was planning something. “My apologies, Mr. Coleridge,” said Thomas Walker, his security chief, as the trio descended to the ground floor. “It appears that there some kind of disturbance in the club. No injuries except for a few bruises which occurred in the panic,” he said, careful to stand facing the sliding doors. The doors weren’t reflective enough for him to see what they were doing behind him but he didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to have a good guess. He continued to speak, talking about the black fog and the shadowy figure striding through it, when he noticed the blurry image of Max Coleridge lean over and kiss the dark-haired woman. Without a word of warning, the first kiss found its mark, at the top of her neck, just below her ear. Through his lips, he felt that her pulse had hardly skipped a beat, it was the last test; after the intimate attention he gave her over the evening, only a professional would keep her emotions under such tight control. When she turned to look at him, whether to give him a nearly genuine, alluring smile or make a snappy comment at him about taking her acceptance for granted, it got stalled en route when his lips found her. The kiss was light but lingered on her lips; a demonstration that a great kiss was a matter of practice and technique, not having any real feelings for the other person was merely an irrelevant detail. Growing up in the shadow of the Hellfire Club, Max learned early on that sex and everything connected to it was simply another physical activity, a chess match you played with your body rather than pieces on a board. “Come back soon,” he said, parting his lips from hers as they reached the bottom. He gave her a playful smile, “and let me know, so I don’t walk past you. Alright?” He walked away, waiting until he sure he was out of her sight before stopping and looking back her, concentrating on looking through the walls; he was a careful man and wasn’t going to be at his ease until he saw her leave the building. When Magdalena took detoured Thom Walker, Max waved away the guard who had come to guide him to the police officers responding to the disturbance he’d caused in the club. “But sir, the police-” The guard began before he interrupted. “I said, ‘handle it yourself,’ if that’s beyond you, you can be replaced with someone capable of performing such a simple task,” he said shortly, turning from easy-going playboy boss to a demanding perfectionist in the blink of an eye. Walking away from the stunned guard, Max was intent on keeping the mutant he now knew as Mystique, currently in the guise of his Head of Security, within his sight, not surprised she’d gone for the elevator. In the excitement caused by the police, he hoped his actions went unnoticed. He ducked into the coat check room and felt Walker’s neck, a pulse was still there. Imperceptibly, a fraction of tension eased from his shoulders, concluding that she hadn’t come there to start a war and leave corpses in his house. The tiny room filled with Darkforce, the absolute he created and control, when it dispersed, he’d gone. He stepped out of the darkness portal onto his roof. Darkness hung off him like a long cloak as he crouched and stared down at Mystique, invading his privacy but still having the courtesy to put things back where they had been; he was touched. A rare smile came to Shroud’s lips as he considered an idea. Silently, he teleported into his penthouse living room and dispersed his absolute darkness, settling for the natural darkness of night as he made his way to his bedroom, not stealthily but without undue noise. He showed no notice of her as he removed his dinner jacket and tossed it in the dirty clothes hamper. He moved around his bedroom in darkness as well as he had in light. He lifted his hand to his glasses and paused, taking a deep breath. “Did you come back for your bag, Mystique?” |
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| Mystique | Nov 19 2007, 11:35 PM Post #26 |
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JP between Mystique & Max Mystique moved through his room silently but could really find nothing of interest. His books were in Braille, and he had quite a few spares of those wrap-around sunglasses he’d been wearing. All in all, she was actually a bit disappointed, yet on the other hand she was impressed. He’d left her absolutely no clues which meant he was definitely not who he made himself out to be. The sound of quiet footsteps reached her ears and she went utterly still, eyes snapping to the open doorway of the bedroom as Max strolled in. She hadn’t heard the elevator come up and her eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. Either she was losing her touch – something she highly doubted – or he had another way of getting around. At his words she smirked slightly, straightening up from her somewhat crouched position. “Among other things,” she replied coolly, watching him carefully as he moved in the darkness. “Everything’s taken care of downstairs, I take it?” It really was a ridiculous conversation to be having; it was almost as if they were casual acquaintances, something that was so far from the truth it wasn’t even funny. He removed his tie, leaving it draped over the top of the drawer. “Oh, yes. Just a bit of excitement, not really a bad thing on a grand opening night.” He turned toward her. “Are you here on Brotherhood business or your own curiosity?” She let out a low chuckle. “A little extra publicity can’t hurt,” she murmured in a light tone, her eyes never leaving his form as he moved around his room. At his question she quirked a brow. “You certainly seem to know an awful lot about me, when I’m still trying to figure you out,” she said in a rare admittance of ignorance, and took a few slow, leisurely steps towards him. “I’m not quite sure I like that…” Max stood his ground and watched as she approached. Normally, someone invading his privacy was like the shriek of fingernails down a blackboard in his mind but these were clearer special circumstances. “Really? Perhaps if you kept lower profile, the advantage would’ve been yours instead. A shape-shifting mutant with blue skin and red hair is fairly obvious… particularly when she’s involved with destroying a town.” He shook his head sadly at her, “High media coverage on that mission, Mystique.” She felt a twinge of irritation at his words but didn’t show it, smirking slightly at his words. “And why do I get the feeling that you know more about that than the media?” she inquired coolly, crossing one foot over the other as she took a step towards the side, her soft-soled boots making virtually no noise as she moved around him in a slow circle. He shrugged unconcerned, “Your feelings are your problem, not mine,” he responded coolly. Keeping his head straight ahead, his gaze followed Mystique as far as it could from the corner of his eye and then depending on his ears, which were fairly good but not enhanced. “You still didn’t answer my question: are you here for the Brotherhood or not?” The dynamic between them had definitely changed to something far more serious and tense now that she was no longer masquerading as Magdalena. He repeated his question and she smirked slightly. “Take a guess,” she purred mockingly. Now that she’d spoken, Max turned his head toward her again. “I don’t guess, Mystique.” He gave her a mocking grin, “You don’t have any business with me because you don’t know anything about me.” He tilted his head a little to one side and regarded her, “On a reconnaissance mission? Discover anything? Beyond that I take cream in my coffee,” he said dismissively. She chuckled darkly, moving swiftly to stand behind him, so close that a good insult would have them touching. “I know more than you might think,” she said, her voice low. “I know you witnessed your parent’s murder when you were 10 years old. I know from your muscle tone that you work out regularly, and you don’t focus too much on just one muscle group. I know from the way you move that you’ve studied a martial art, perhaps more than one.” A pause, and she laughed quietly. “And I know you have a tendency towards pathological lying. A snake bite, Max, really, was that they best you could come up with?” she taunted. He would’ve liked to have liked to have stayed stoic and aloof by taking no notice of where she was, but she was snake and although he was not afraid of her, only a fool would be that careless. He spun to stand face to face with her as she taunting recited what she knew. “Most of that is public record. And as for the snake, tell me where it says I owe you or anyone an explanation…I enjoyed the story,” leaving unsaid the ending, “and that’s all that matters.” “Considering what’s there, you barely scratched the surface,” he teased her. When he whirled around to face her she didn’t even blink, remaining rooted in her spot, her eyes running over his chiseled features. “Oh, I quite enjoyed it, too,” she murmured in agreement. “You’ve quite the talent for story-telling, though you really should check your facts first. There are perhaps half a dozen poisonous species of snakes in the Amazon, and a bite to a vital area of the body – such as the neck – would most assuredly result in death without immediate medical attention,” she pointed out, giving him a mocking little wink. “Just something to think about.” She was baiting him and he knew it, but he couldn’t resist, his pride wouldn’t let him ignore it. “The Amazon is largely unexplored, with new species still being discovered.” He shrugged as if to say that it was a mote point, “It was a complete lie but Magdalena the art collector would’ve been unlikely to know the difference.” He looked into her eyes, his own still hidden behind black lenses. “The Brotherhood keeping you content with this ... busy work?” A smile appeared on her features then and it was almost genuine. “Magdalena might surprise you with her knowledge. She’s more than a simple art collector.” At his question she quirked a brow, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly. “Ah, but I didn’t say I was here for the Brotherhood, now did I? You shouldn’t assume so much, Max.” She was mocking him, playing with him; although a part of him liked playing games too, another part just liked poking at things to see what would happen, he decided to take the game to the next level and see what came loose. “Assuming is all I can do until you give me a straight answer.” His voice again took on that low, intimate tone he’d had while they danced but this time there was an edge to it just under the surface, “And I won’t allow you to leave until I get one.” Mystique was a killer; cold, emotionless, distant, aloof, violent and capable. Perhaps at one time she’d been something else, but now her profession was all she had. It was what she lived for, and she was good at it. As such, she’d been in her share of nasty situations and threatened by men much more dangerous than Max Coleridge. That dangerous edge in his voice didn’t even seem to register, the corners of her mouth quirking up in the barest hint of a smile. “Is that so?” Standing so close together, they were practically touching as they faced each other down in a stand-off of iron-wills or rather, who is the biggest bitch/bastard in the room. Max gave her cold, appraising look. “Is that so? .... How disappointing.” He deliberately mimicked her response and raised an eyebrow. “Since you’ve joined Magneto’s Brotherhood, you’ve really let yourself go, Mystique,” he said, filling his voice with condescending mockery and bracing for her inevitable response. Mystique’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly, but that mocking smirk remained on her lips. Max Coleridge might be the big dog in the Hellfire Club, but Mystique was used to being on top and she wasn’t about to give up the position quite so easily. With lightening quick reflexes she reached up and took a hold of his shirt collar, using the surprising amount of strength in her lithe frame to hurl him backwards into the wall. She pinned him there with an arm across his throat, putting just enough pressure for it to be uncomfortable but not enough to restrict his airway. “I’d be more careful about what I say if I was you, Max,” she purred lowly in a warning. “You might be a big fish here in Salem, but there are bigger predators swimming about.” He wasn’t surprised when Mystique’s fingers curled into fists, using his shirt as a handle to pull him around. He hit the wall with a thud that knocked the breath from his lungs, though he only smiled smugly at her, pleased he’d provoked a reaction. “Actually,” he said through gritted teeth as he fought to breathe against the arm pressed against his chest, “you’ll find that my shadow stretches over more than just New York.” He grabbed her wrist and around her waist; the impenetrable darkness engulfed them in a fraction of a second and then they were gone, vanished from the room. High over Salem a portal of darkness opened, unseen against the night sky and two people plummeted out. She was facing him when the glasses were ripped from his face by the gusting wind; she saw his eyes for the first time, completely jet-black orbs, made all the darker against his pale skin. In the moment it took Mystique to take in her new situation, Max reacted; pulling the arm she had at his throat, he twirled her in the air and brought her back against him, her back pressed against his front. He tightened his arm around her waist and clamped his other arm between her breasts like the shoulder seat-belt in a car. With his arms binding her to him, he felt her heart pounding within her chest, it was the only sign that she wasn’t as completely unfazed as she pretended to be. He placed his face at the crook of her shoulder, his cheek pressed against hers as her long red hair streaming out behind them. They watched the ground approach at terminal velocity; the city at night speckled with a galaxy of colored lights. It was breathtakingly beautiful and lethal. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at his words but she didn’t have enough time to respond before she was suddenly engulfed in complete darkness. She was used to moving in the dark, but this was different; there was absolutely no light, and it was disorienting to say the least though she could still feel Max against her, the fabric of his shirt gripped in her fist. And then it was cold, the kind of cold that can steal the breath from your lungs. A bitterly chilling wind bit into her skin but she wasn’t paying attention to that as her mind scrambled to keep up with the sudden change of scenery. She watched as Max’s glasses were ripped away by the rushing wind and for a moment she stared into the black void of his eyes before he abruptly spun her around and she got a clear view of exactly where she was. Adrenaline flooded her body and she had to fight to keep from reacting as her instincts told her to. They plummeted towards the ground and she had quite a clear view of the ground rushing up at them as she fell face-first through the night sky, Max pressed against her back. Mystique had been in sticky situations before, but this…this was entirely new, and she really had no idea how to react. For several long moments he was quiet, merely watching her reaction and feeling the heat radiating through her leather as though it were a second skin, while his torn dress shirt and coatless evening wear offered no protection against the chill night air. Begrudging, he conceded that he had to give her points for keeping her cool. She wasn’t fighting or even posturing in an attempt to remind him how tough she was; if anything, to his eye, she seemed oddly fascinated. His face remained stoically unemotional but he was strangely pleased that he could shake her been there, done that jaded view. As they plunged down, the colored dots came into cleared focus. Still, her nerve hadn’t broken when they past the point at which a parachute would’ve slowed their descent; now, they would hit the ground at nearly 150 mph. He turned his face slightly to look at hers. Despite her deception and invasion of his private rooms, he was starting to have suspicions that she could actually be useful. By all accounts he knew of, Mystique was clever enough and capable enough to be not just a hired-gun but perhaps part of the Inner Circle. His voice was seductively calm as he spoke into her ear. “Magneto and The Brotherhood? The politics of Mutant Rights and the court of public opinion,” he spoke disdainfully. “Two things you don’t give a damn about, Mystique. Listen to what I can offer you.” ‘Fascinated’ was probably a good way to describe her at that moment. She’d never seen the world from such a view, the sprawl of humanity stretched out endlessly in front of her. It almost seemed as if there was not a part of the world humans hadn’t touched; their parasitic existent was never-ending. In another moment and time without the threat of massive amounts of agony facing her she would’ve rather enjoyed the moment, the exhilaration of free-falling through the atmosphere. Max’s words reached her as if in a dream and she turned her head slightly, his lips hovering near her ear as she listened intently to catch his voice over the rush of the wind. “Tell me,” she said simply in response, her voice quiet but somehow easily heard over the noise. To be continued... |
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| Mystique | Nov 20 2007, 01:06 AM Post #27 |
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JP between Mystique & Max, continued It was exactly what he wanted to hear, an open-mind to his proposal. A portal of darkness opened before them and they plunged through, reappearing where they had the first time, high above the city sprawl. However, instead the free-fall, Darkforce billowed into existence and formed into an enormous parachute. When the parachute opened, he knew his arms weren’t going to be strong enough to keep hold of her, Mystique would be ripped from him by gravity. Out of the misty darkness at his back, shadowy tendrils coiled around Mystique, holding her securely as their fall was slowed to a controlled glide. When they were floating gently over the city, Max loosened the grip of his arms and the shadow tendrils enough for her to turn and face him as he spoke. Once turned, she could clearly see him for the first time since teleporting from his bedroom. He was still wearing his evening clothes and looked very much a playboy having a hard night - no coat, tore open shirt at his collar and no tie. From his body, tendrils of solid darkness extended - most of them connected up to the parachute and some of them wrapped around her like a safety harness. “Undoubtedly, you’ve heard of the Hellfire Club, a social club for the wealthy and elite, but that isn’t all it is. It is an organization that’s several centuries old and its reach covers the globe.” He looked into her eyes, gauging how this news was being received. “A mercenary group that has survived through complete secrecy, interested in the acquisition of power and influence.” He cocked an eyebrow at her, anticipating what she was likely thinking, “Intriguing but what does this have to do with you, you might be wondering. Regions are controlled by Inner Circles, generally at least six…a black and a white set of Kings, Queens, and Bishops,” he said, briefly touching on the power setup of the Inner Circles. “I’m Black King for the New England region, and I need a Black Queen.” Mystique closed her eyes briefly as they plunged through the portal and reappeared high above the city once more, opening them when she felt their descent slow, strong ropes of…something curling around her body. When she turned to face him she reached out to touch the Darkforce and it gave slightly beneath her fingers. She was reminded of a thick spider-wed stretched taut, immensely strong yet somehow also fragile. Her eyes snapped back to him as he spoke, vivid yellow eyes studying his features while she listened to what he had to say. So, the rumors were true…some of them at least. His last statement caught her off-guard and she blinked slowly, the look on her face thoughtful as she reached out once more to touch the Darkforce around them. Her eyes returned to his face. “And this Inner Circle you speak of…are you the only mutant, or are they all?” she asked, her tone surprisingly calm despite the rapid beating of her heart that was only just now beginning to slow. It wasn’t a yes, but then again, it wasn’t a no, and whether she would admit it or not, she was most definitely intrigued. His arms encircled her waist, their closeness reminiscent of the brief dance in his apartment. “The Hellfire Club has no mutant or human agenda, the capable are promoted. Here, as in nearly all regions, those who’ve proven themselves the most capable have been mutants.” She couldn’t help but smirk at that and it was the first real reaction she’d given since he had oh-so-rudely decided to find out if she had a fear of heights. “I would be disappointed if it had been otherwise,” she said, shifting closer to him in a casual manner as his arms slipped around her waist, his body heat welcome amongst the chill that had set into her skin without her even realizing it. Through his hand, he felt her heart still racing although they were gliding peacefully, and her skin was getting colder after the rush of the freefall. “Afraid? After a century, I would’ve expected you would’ve done everything at least once,” he teased with a smirk, then leaned forward, halting any snappy reply with a kiss. In a moment, another portal opened and their feet touched down in his suite, nearly at the spot where they left. She let out a scoffing laugh and rolled her eyes. “Oh how clever, did y—“ her words were cut off abruptly as he bent over her and stopped her clever retort with a kiss. A part of her was incredibly irritated with his actions, but that small annoyance was overshadowed by the undeniable tension still building between them. She broke away from him the moment the returned to solid ground in his apartment and she noticed with a wry smirk that their positions had been reversed and now it was she with her back to the wall, Max’s tall, lean form looming over her. Her breathing was understandably a little quicker than normal, that adrenaline rush still tingling in her veins as she looked up to his face and those dark, colorless eyes. Then her rigid control over her thoughts and desires seemed to snap, her fingers curling into his shirt as she jerked him against her and crushed her lips against his. He felt the tug on his shirt and leaned into her, pushing her against the wall at her back. His hands, slightly chilled from the cold outside air, rested on Mystique’s hips, soaking in the warmth radiating through her leather second skin. While he felt nothing for her, he couldn’t deny the lust she sparked within him. She carelessly strummed the thrill-seeking, somewhat suicidal parts of his psyche that drove him to run into the flames of a burning building and dance with death, just for the mad thrill of daring anything to kill him…just to see if he could make it to the end. “How much of this,” he ran his hand over her leather outfit, “is clothes and how much is you,” he managed to murmur when her lips paused for a breath. They were strangely alike in that aspect of their personalities; both looking for the next big thrill, the next close brush with death. The fact that Max hadn’t backed down even once that night and in fact had pushed her to her limits as well, almost as if he was testing her, only served to further incite her intrigue and physical desire for him. At his question she smirked against his lips, letting out a throaty chuckle. “The clothes are real,” she replied, fingers nimbly undoing the buttons to his dress shirt to run her hands over the muscled plane of his chest. He nodded absently as he reached up and combed his fingers through her hair, now shoulder-length and blood red, and remembered how long and dark it had looked when she was Magdalena. He looked into her eyes hungrily as his other hand drifted up her back, his fingers feeling along the groove of her spine until they found the zipper of her leather tank top. Without pausing to ask permission, he unzipped it and let the leather band fall at their feet. She pushed his shirt from his shoulders and let it flutter to the floor as his fingers crawled up her spine to the zipper of her leather top. Her lips sought out his once more and she kissed him fiercely, running her fingers down the chiseled surface of his abs to his belt. A few quick tugs and she had the buckle undone. Abruptly she pushed herself away from the wall and propelled him backwards towards the bed. He took the cue and decided that the bed was a good place to be, allowing her to push his steps backward. His hands were at her waist, traveling down the curve of her hips as the pair crossed the room. Just before the backs of his legs would connect with the bed, Max gripped her thighs and in a swift movement, lifted her lithe body, wrapping her legs around his waist. Holding her against him, he fell backwards into his bed. With Mystique straddling his waist, his black eyes stared up into her yellow ones as his hands ran up and down her thighs; he looked at her with a confidence in his eyes and the set of his mouth that said - even though he was on his back, he would never be submissive. That look he gave her brought a small grin to her lips; it was yet another dare among a string of challenges they had given each other over the course of the night, though this one was much more blatant than their earlier, thinly veiled provocations. It would be interesting to see who came out on top in this situation…both literally and figuratively. Her mouth returned to his before she trailed scorching, open-mouthed kisses down his neck and chest, dragging her tongue across his skin. Her dexterous hands stroked across his stomach, then strayed lower as she gave herself over to the burning desire that had been building since they first started playing this game earlier that night. --------------- Max had fallen asleep surprisingly quickly considering the fact that there was a dangerous killer in his bed; of course, that might have something to do with the mild sedative she’d slipped him. What, you expected pillow talk? He’d wake up in a few hours with no lingering effects, and might not actually even realize she’d done it since the drug was so subtle. A quick study of his respiration told her that he was well and truly asleep and she slipped out of bed, the sheets rustling quietly in her wake. She didn’t linger, just slipped on her clothes and headed to the elevator. When he awoke he would undoubtedly notice two things missing from his apartment, though: one of his extra pairs of sunglasses were gone, along with the extra key to his penthouse, a sure sign that she would be back once she’d had time to think about his offer though she left no hint that she’d been there at all. Max inhaled deeply as he awoke, finding his bed empty and cold. He hadn’t expected anything else from her. Externally, he would bow to the fiction that he’d simply fallen asleep as a way avoid awkward moment but in reality, he knew differently. He took a moment to close his eyes and perform an internal assessment. She’d done such a subtle job of slipping him the drug that he took as unspoken sign of respect; if she’d been sloppy about it he would’ve been insulted. He grinned and sat up when he realized he didn’t even have a slight headache, touched by the care she’d taken not to hurt him. Sitting up, he hissed and winced when he stretched back his shoulders; she hadn’t left him completely unscathed. He put his hand to one of the deeper bite marks on his neck, a lazy smile formed on his lips when he remembered what he was doing to her to bring her to that point and decided that it had been worth it. He slipped naked out of his bed; in keeping with his blind persona, he had no mirrors in his apartment but he didn’t need one to feel the bites, scratches and bruises Mystique left behind. Luckily, with his nocturnal habit, he’d acquired a regeneration device as a precaution; with Mystique around, he suspected he would be using it quite a bit. He went to an intercom panel on the wall and connected with the security room. He didn’t see the spare key she’d gotten from Walker and momentarily debated having the locked changed but decided against it; there wouldn’t be much point really, if she really wanted inside. Instead he simply said, “Bring a team to my apartment. I want a full sweep of all of my rooms, including external building and the elevator.” He doubted they would find anything but it paid to be cautious around Mystique. [align=center]~Fin~[/align] |
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8:15 AM Jul 11