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Finding Heaven in a Bowl of Cereal; {Open to Any, or All}
Topic Started: Dec 29 2007, 11:13 AM (797 Views)
Kadin
Unregistered

Date December 29, 2007
Time 6:00 (Wake-up), 6:45 (Breakfast)


Morning After: Shirt, Shoes, Without a Coat

It was nearly six o'clock in the morning when Kadin's eyes slowly opened. For a moment he was at a loss for what he was feeling. First, it had been probably the most comfortable sleep he had ever had in his lifetime, and second he wasn't being tossed out into the freezing snow in the early morning hours. He almost desired to not get up or move, such an act might displease whatever god was allowing this current blessing, and get him sent back to the streets. But as his feet hit the floor it was obvious that no god was about to do such a thing.

Yawning as he stretched he looked about the room again. It was bare, but somehow still inviting and warm. He grabbed a fresh pair of pants and under wear from his bag and slowly made his way across the hall to the bathrooms Scott had pointed out last night when he came in. After a long shower he stood in front of the mirror for a moment and stared back at himself.
..:We've been on one hell of a ride haven't we...I feel that this one is just beginning...:.. He thought silently as he stared into the mirror. Running his fingers through his damp hair he stepped back from the mirror and headed back out into the hall.

Once back in his room he packed his dirty laundry away, and pulled out a clean white t-shirt. He slid the shirt on his still drying physique and pushed his bags under the bed. He tussled his hair in an effort to get the rest of the water out of it and let it fall into its normal messy arrangement, and then set out barefoot with a desire to see a bit more of the mansion. His eyes danced over every object as he made his way down the spiraling stairs and into the front foyer. Every item, whether it was a bust of some man or woman, a painting, or a simple vase seemed magnificent in itself. Moving through the foyer he followed another hallway to his right. After passing a few doors he stumbled upon a small kitchen. His eyes drifted through the room as he walked in. The tile floor was cold in the early morning making him almost dance with every step, but after a few moments his feet became used to the cold.

Minutes passed as he rummaged through the cabinets looking for something to eat, and in the end he came out with a cold bowl of frosted flakes. He made his way slowly, careful not to spill any food or milk onto the floor, over to the table and sat down in a chair. Raising the spoon he plunged it down into the cereal and produced a rather large helping of this unknown cereal. Quickly he shoved the spoon into his mouth while his eyes got wider as the sweet taste crunchiness attacked his taste buds.
..:This is Heaven...:... He thought to himself quietly as he continued to munch on his cold cereal.
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Riva
Unregistered

Place in timeline: A few days after the great whiskey debacle.
Time: Too early.



It was cold enough outside to freeze water and merit salt on the walkways. Cold enough to require layers and layers of what Riva liked to call ‘Eskimo-wear’, yet still worry about her fingers getting stiff and cramped and prematurely arthritic. A bad thing for a musician, especially a guitarist.

Yet her roommate still turned on the fan. Maybe it had to do with being raised in a warm Gulf Coast climate, or not having any polar bears in her family tree. But Riva, quite simply, was freezing her ass off in her own dorm. She hovered in and out of sleep, the low room temperature enough to wake her up. It didn’t help that she naturally moved about while resting, one of those restless sleepers, and whenever she rolled off of that warm little section of mattress and sheets onto a desolately cold one, boy did she feel it. Rather than murder Miranda in her sleep, however, Riva finally coaxed herself out of bed, figuring that the rest of the mansion had to be warmer than her residential igloo.

Ironically, she found herself outside, looking out into the wintry landscape of the institute. The tree line looked scarce and rather glum, their gnarled branches long since stripped of their leaves. It sort of got like that in Gretna, but she remembered winters having far more green, courtesy of the ever-hardy cypresses and magnolias. She did, however, remember the immense pain in the ass it was to rake all the maple leaves and pine needles from her lawn, and thanked heaven that she didn’t have to worry about that here. With her thick winter jacket on the cold was a distant thing, the rest of the discomforts kept away with a cigarette. A quick shot of whiskey would have taken care of that immediately, but after the whole ordeal with Rosie, Riva thought twice about breaking out the flask. Sitting on the back patio railing, she took a calm drag, her feet swinging. She’d been at the Institute long enough to know the drill. No smoking inside buildings. She’d also heard Hank and Akito go on hour-long rants about the dangers of smoking. Honestly. You couldn’t keep a habit in this place.

She finished her smoke sooner than expected, holding out the filter and looking at it in mild surprise. Damn. She flicked the butt away, watching it zoom off into the distance, courtesy of a telekinetic boost, and sat there a few moments longer before stifling a yawn. You know what that means. Coffee time!

With that, Riva hopped off the railing, striding across the little deck and moseyed on into the kitchen. The temperature change was immediate, and Riva closed her eyes with an utmost content smile.

“Mmm. Warm,” she mused with a stretch, sliding off her maroon jacket and moving to drape it on one of the kitchenette chairs. Apparently not warm enough, however, as she still had a baby blue hoodie beneath and showed no signs of parting with it. She gave brief pause when she saw Kadin, and looked at him strangely when she didn’t recognize the new arrival. Her gaze then traveled to his bowl of frosted flakes, and Riva wrinkled her nose.

“Cereal? It’s too cold fo’ that, homme,” she said, shaking her head. “No substance.” So says the girl that lives off of frozen foods. Heading over to the pantry, her sneakers squeaked softly against the floor, opening the food storage and going directly for what she had in mind. She set the tin of coffee on the counter, followed by the little pack of filters, and got to work with the coffee machine.

“Want a cup, newbie?” she asked, dropping a scoop of coffee into the filter-lined basket.
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Kadin
Unregistered

Right now, his world was much like a Raisin Bran Crunch commercial. You know, the one where as the dude eats his cereal the only thing he can hear is the sound of his food crunching about in his mouth. The ability to tune anything and everything out because food is in your mouth, that should be a super power...
Not even the sound of another person walking into the room disturbed him, not that they made much sound in the first place, but as Riva placed her jacket on a chair near him he didn't even glance toward her.

Kadin was too lost in his heavenly world of this new found food. Back home it had been a cold gritty substance every morning, or some kind of artery clogging oatmeal. He was never underfed, he could have had as much as he wanted, but food like that didn't sit to well in the stomach. This cereal, however, was pleasing to the taste buds, and satisfying to his stomach as well. The sound she made didn't alert him to her presence, but rather the odor of cigarette smoke that wafted past as she had walked into the room, made him stop eating to turn around and look at her. His father had smoked many cigarettes, and cigars back home. The smell was just another reminder of many memories he didn't want to remember.

When he turned, however, his gaze didn't land upon a broad shouldered beefy man, but rather an attractive young lady, wearing multiple layers of clothing in an attempt to stay warm.

“Cereal? It’s too cold fo’ that, homme...no substance."
First of all she must have never been outside the country if she thought it was cold. Of course after sleeping in a warm bed for a couple of hours made stepping onto chilled tiling a bit awkward, but this was not a cold equivalent to any Russian winter he knew of. Secondly, and most important this food was the food of Gods! When compared to his past meals, even the ones he had in the cheaper bakeries of Europe, this food was a delicious cuisine.

“Want a cup, newbie?”

Kadin turned to grab his empty bowl as he stood up from the table and walked over to the sink. Placing the bowl gently in the sink he leaned up against the counter and glanced once again at the girl, and smiled; showing off his rare boyish grin.
"Americans know nothing about coffee..." He said slowly as his eyes dropped down to the pot and jumped back up to her face. His eyes studied her expressions for a moment while she was not looking.
"But..." He started in slowly, "If you think that yours is better...then yes I would like a 'cup'." His words were a bit playful for a foreigner who didn't know anybody, and was still slightly nervous about where he was. That was really it though, he didn't know anyone, and you didn't get to know people by being shy and quiet, sometimes conversation was a necessity, and interaction was required.

After searching a cabinet or two he produced two normal sized coffee mugs and placed them on the counter beside her.
"Here you are..." He said quietly as he stepped back and took his spot, once again leaning on the edge of the counter watching her work.
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Riva
Unregistered

For a minute, Riva thought he was going to go right on and ignore her. Eh, whatever. She'd shown her ounce of courtesy for the day. Besides, he seemed sort of zoned out anyway; maybe Kellogg's was starting to put some opiate ingredient in their foods... might be worth looking into, in that case.

She lid the coffee tin over the counter and into her little work space, popping the lid and taking a deep sigh right after. Sure, it wasn't as good as freshly ground coffee beans, but it was a delightful aroma nonetheless. The sound of rustling dishes, however, was enough to break Riva from her early morning reverie, and she glanced to the newcomer at the sink.

"Americans know nothing about coffee..."

The Cajun arched a brow and gave him a wry smile in return, drumming her fingers against the counter. No doubt, she'd have something to say about that. Hell, she had something to say about everything.

"Oh-ho, now don' y' diss our coffee. Don' wanna get into a fight so early. Y' wouldn' stand a chance." She turned back to the coffee, and measured a rather generous scoop. Seemed like anything this girl ingested had to erode the stomach lining to be acceptable. She inspected the portion, and shook off an almost negligible amount back into the can before bringing it up for inspection. Such attention to detail, for a cup of joe. Actually, she knew he was watching her, and figured why not be generous and afford him all the time he wanted to check her out. Such a kind heart.

"Next thing y' know, y' insult our liquor. Then all hell breaks loose." She smirked to herself, and dumped the coffee into the basket. After that Riva rinsed, then filled the pot with water up to a point, then poured it into the coffee maker's little receptacle. Tearing out a square of paper towel from the nearby dowel, she dried off her hands.

"But..." He started in slowly, "If you think that yours is better...then yes I would like a 'cup'."

Sure, he wasn't as boisterous and gregarious as some of her other acquaintances, like Collin, but guys like that could only be taken in small and sparse doses. The Ruskie seemed sociable enough, which put him in Riva's good graces. She smirked at his response, putting the little basket into its niche in the machine, then placing her hands on her hips jauntily as she turned to face him. "Y' damn right it's better. Coffee must freeze up where y' from. Warm drinks--novel, ain' it?" she mused, and gave a nod of thanks as he brought the mugs. A few button clicks later, and a small, but steady drip of coffee was accumulating in the pot.

"Ah'm guessin' y' from someplace far north. Part eskimo, maybe?" she grinned, and moved to the fridge in hopes of finding something to eat. Something microwaveable.
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Rosie
Unregistered

Rosie was sleepy, and in pain -- well, pain according to a toddler. Trodding through the mansion in her My Little Pony footie pajamas and dragging her blue blankie behind her, Rosie gave a great yawn that showed off her baby teeth. She was teething again, as the last few teeth she was lacking were coming in -- her back molars -- and this made her cranky and just want to snuggle up to someone.

Rounding into the kitchen, intent on finding something to chew on to ease the irritation in her mouth, the little girl was brought up short by the new guy standing there. Riva was there too, something she was immensely glad of as she ran to wrap her arms around the older girl's leg happily.

"Riva." She yawned, snuggling the leg -- hey, it wasn't as though she could reach any higher without standing on something. "Riva, m-my mouth hurts."

Her hug and slight whine done, Rosie peered around the leg at the new guy shyly, one thumb slipping into her mouth as she regarded him. He looked nice enough, but then again she had never been the best judge of character. Playing it safe, Rosie cuddled both blankie and leg, knowing that Riva would always protect her, 'cause she was kewl like that.
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Kadin
Unregistered

Opiates becoming a main ingredient in the creation of Kellogg brand cereals? Oh the horror! Think of all the five year olds sitting down to their box of frosted flakes in the morning only to become drug addicts by the time they're done with the bowl! Then again, It's almost a guarantee sales would drastically improve.

"Oh-ho, now don' y' diss our coffee. Don' wanna get into a fight so early. Y' wouldn' stand a chance."
The truth was American coffee was weak. When compared to an espresso blend from the streets of Italy, Americans and their coffee were blown out of the water. The small town of Parma, with its nooks and crannies, held the secret of the gods when it came to coffee; or at least thats how it sat in Kadin's mind. And he could so take her...there was no question...maybe....

His eyes watched her work, she tried with a lack of delicacy to measure out the "perfect" amount of grounds from the can. That was the thing about Americans and their coffee; one scoop, two scoops, eighty-nine scoops...it was just never enough. Instead of asking if someone wanted a cup of coffee they should be asking, "Can I burn a whole in your stomach for you today?". Truth be told at the moment he cared a bit less for the coffee and its awakening abilities and a little more about the cute girl in front of him. A smile danced across his lips as he watched her try to be so perfect in her work.

"Next thing y' know, y' insult our liquor. Then all hell breaks loose."

"You're beer is horrible, you cannot make a decent scotch if someone showed you how, and your wine selection is a disgrace, not to mention the taste," A shiver shot through Kadin's body as he thought about Americans and their alcohol. It was worse than their inability to make a good espresso let alone a simple cup of coffee.
"I will say however, you have a good taste for making whiskey, it's not so horrible..." He said teasingly as he smiled again.
He was braced and ready for her to turn and attack back. That is...if she wasn't afraid of a little battle of words...

"Coffe must freeze up where y' from."
In a moment the smile fell from his face as his head dropped a little. The reality of it was the Kadin had never had a cup of coffee until the week after his seventeenth birthday. In Russia his father had never drank coffee, life might have been better if he had a cup every now and then, but in Russia...for tough men...it's not a cup of coffee that wakes you in the morning, rather it was a nice glass of the liquor that kept you going. It always did the job for his father...
"Yes...yes it does..." His words came out slowly as he forced a grin.

"Ah'm guessin' y' from someplace far north. Part eskimo, maybe?"

The eskimo thing made him laugh a little. It was enough to bring him out of his somber mood.
"Russian...Moscow..." He said slowly. His accent had practically disappeared as he began to speak again. That was the beauty of languages. Live in a place for a long enough time, or speak the language enough and old characteristics started to fade away.

"How about you?" He asked curiously. "Are you a..." He thought for a moment trying to find the right word, "Are you a Yankee? Or one of those...southern belles?" Both were terms he had heard in a horribly demeaning joke about americans while traveling in Europe. At the time it had been humourous, but here it seemed it would be taken as ignorant and foolish.

Kadin was momentarily distracted as a small child entered the room complaining of an aching mouth. His eyes jumped from the child to Riva and once again back to the child. There was no direct resemblance so he was guessing that a mother/daughter relation was out of the question, but you never know these days. Looking at Riva his eyes just seemed to search hers to find an answer to this...riddle of a question.
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Violey
Member Avatar
Aerokinesis, Audiokinesis / Flight
Place in timeline: Few weeks after ‘Sitting in Silence’ (Jayson); 16 days after ‘Heartfelt Traditions’ (Violey)


"You know Violey," Jayson said to someone over her shoulder. "Can you please stop pelting me with stuff animals?" She was really close to catching one of those stuff animals and throwing in out the window without opening it. Her friend and roommate had taken up the habit of tossing things at her to wake her up. It was as if their alarm clock.

"This is all because you want my muffin isn’t it." At this Violey shrugged her shoulders. Of course this was about Jayson’s muffins. Her friend had a secret recipe. In short they were to die for. Would she, though, admit it? "Zat eez ze only reason to wake one such as yourself up at this godforsaken 'our, correct?"

Violey's confession caused the red head to abruptly stop in her tracks. This caused her friend to run into her. "I can't believe you would wake me up this early so I could make you muffins and on holiday vacation too," the stone-turner muttered.

Violey shook her golden head. "Yes, I would. I am zat ungrateful." Without caring what the other's reply would be she walked around the stone-turner and toward the kitchen door.

Jayson couldn’t believe the nerve of the aerokinetic. "I will not make them unless," she began to threaten. Violey was already prepared for this. "Unless Rosie eez in ze kitchen," the golden blonde replied smiling. Jayson agreed, "If Rosie is in there I will make them. I highly doubt it though because she is really little and should still be asleep in bed." The moment of triumph lasted less than a second.

"Good morning Riva, Rosie," Violey said as she walked into the kitchen. She had seen those gathered in the kitchen just before she made the suggestion. This in turn gave her what she had been looking for. However, she didn’t give Jayson the chance of refuting the threat. There was someone by the coffee maker that she had yet to meet. "Good morning to you as well sir. I am Violey Vistagraph and zis eez my friend Jayson," she directed to Kadin giving a half bow.

In passing Jayson waved a gloved hand in greeting to the new guy. Her sights were set on someone else. Walking up to Riva she smirked at her fellow red head before she bent down to get eye level with Rosie. "I now that look little missy," the stone-turner stated with a quick frown. "You got teeth coming in don't you?"

Not giving time for Rosie to answer she stood up to grab a wash cloth. Thinking for a moment she threw it at Violey. "Can you make that damp." Rolling jeweled green eyes Violey went to the sink at soaked the cloth before ring it out. Why did her friend want it anyways? Since there were others in the room she decided the best course of action would be to return the wash cloth by handing it to Jayson. Throwing it would have been more fun though. Once the task was done she took a seat at the table.

"Now Rosie," Jayson smiled and held out the damp wash cloth to her. "Bite this for it will help stop your mouth hurt. If you do I'll let you be the first to try my famous muffins. Want to help make them?"

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Rosie
Unregistered

Still eyeing the new guy from behind Riva, Rosie decided that he wasn't so bad after all. Well, Riva was putting up with him, and wasn't hitting him or anything, so that had to be good. "I's Rosie." She piped shyly, loosening her grip on Riva's pant leg. "Who're you? Are ya a mutant too?"

Her curiosity was interrupted as two more familiar figures came into the room -- Jayson and Violey. Grinning in happiness, only to wince at the pain in her mouth, Rosie let go of Riva and bounded over to them, giving them both her famous Rosie leg-gripping hugs.

Rosie nodded at her words. "It hurts." She whimpered, putting a small hand on her cheek to show where the pain was. Blinking when Jayson handed her a damp washcloth kindly, Rosie bit down on it, looking a bit like an otter or a chipmunk -- and sighed in relief.

"T'ank you." She grinned around the washcloth, knawing happily. The mention of muffins made her perk up, and she did a little impromptu dance around the kitchen, shaking her little My Little Pony-clad fanny all over. "Mu'ins!" Rosie squealed.

Honestly, the day couldn't get better. Good friends? Check. Muffins? Check. Lack of alcohol? Check.
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Riva
Unregistered

“Your beer is horrible, you cannot make a decent scotch if someone showed you how, and your wine selection is a disgrace, not to mention the taste.”

Oh God. He’d be killed in Gretna. Shot on sight. And then the Sheriff’s Department would have their say. Instead, Riva gave a dramatically scandalized gasp, as though he’d committed some terrible, blasphemous act, or streaked across the kitchen… Riva snickered at that last comparison, and threw the damp paper napkin at him. No worries, it was a simple throw. Any real force behind it would knock him on his ass at the very least, and Riva knew how easily male egos and backsides could be bruised.

“Shootin’ t’ kill, huh? Y’ got no room t’ be criticizin’ tastes, ami. Y’ jus’ ate a heapin’ bowl of processed corn an’ corn syrup, an’ y’ call that food? Now that’s a disgrace,” she teased back, and carefully put the lid back on the coffee can. The last time, she hadn’t been paying much attention to it and ended up crushing the tin flat like a pancake. The mess was horrendous.

“I will say, however, you have a good taste for making whiskey, it’s not so horrible..”[/i]

“An’ you hold it right there. The wine, Ah can let pass. That’s fo’ wimps an’ Europeans.. same thing.” Riva’s expression looked serious and suggested that maybe she was offended, but that little hint of a smile and the persistent curl of her lips that she just couldn’t fight off said otherwise. Of course, if she were mad, the entire Institute would know it. Riva-meltdowns were quite infamous, quick yet devastating. “But whiskey? Nothin’ compares t’ a shot of bourbon. Talk like that is gonna getcha in real trouble. Y’ lucky Ah’m feelin’ so generous this mornin’.” Such a favor. Riva turned her back on him for a moment as she went for the fridge, since you couldn’t really have breakfast without food, and took a peek inside, still keeping with the conversation.

“Russian?” she echoed, stepping back from the fridge and wrinkling her nose at a rather vile-looking plate of leftover.. something. It looked like a mushy and maculated version of shepherd’s pie. Who would ever eat that abomination? She held the fridge door open and sighed.

“What a shame. An’ here we got a slab of whale blubber left. Y’ sure y’ ain’ Eskimo? We got the makin’s of a good ol’ homeland breakfast here..” The redhead closed the fridge, figuring that breakfast wouldn’t be had among the failed culinary recipes it preserved. Well, the freezer had never failed her, and she opened that door, pulling the sleeve of her sweater over her hand as she rummaged inside.

"How about you?" He asked curiously. "Are you a..." He thought for a moment trying to find the right word, "Are you a Yankee? Or one of those...southern belles?"

Southern belle? Riva couldn’t help but laugh at the term, even after she’d pulled out a box of croissanwiches. She’d heard the term thrown at her plenty of times and always cracked up at when picturing herself as a swooning, delicate antebellum damsel. “Yea, homme, a regular Scarlet O’Hara,” she mused, pulling a frozen sandwich from the box. “Cajun. Half, at least,” she corrected him, and looked down as she felt a particularly snuggly hug at her leg.

"Riva." She yawned, snuggling the leg... "Riva, m-my mouth hurts."

“Hey there, Oompa,” Riva smiled warmly, leaning over and trying to smooth out Rosie’s bed-head with her fingers. She glanced back up at the Russian, catching the odd look he was giving her. Oh no. No no no. “Not feelin’ so good, kiddo? Y’ should really stop suckin’ y’ thumb, enfant, or y’ might push y’ teeth forward an’ get a goofy gap.. like Jayson.”

The two girls walked in, and Riva grinned at them oh so innocently. “Yo.” Rosie finally released her death grip on her jeans, opting to greet the blonde and the other redhead. “Muffins? Make enough fo’ me an’ this one here too," she pipped, motioning to Kadin. "Got a name, homme?”
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Kadin
Unregistered

He caught the napkin with a smile and a soft chuckle. At the very least she might have been able to knock him on his backside, but Kadin was what some might call a "tough cookie" and was "resistant" to a bit more than she might have been able to serve up.


“Shootin’ t’ kill, huh? Y’ got no room t’ be criticizin’ tastes, ami. Y’ jus’ ate a heapin’ bowl of processed corn an’ corn syrup, an’ y’ call that food? Now that’s a disgrace,”
His mind floated back to the smell of cigarette smoke that had floated in behind her earlier. Thoughts of poking fun at her health issues passed through his mind before he let it go. If smoking was fine for her, Processeed corn and corn syrup would be healthy for him.

"In all my life I've never had a more satisfying meal!" He stated with a laugh as he lightly rubbed his stomach in approval. That was the truth, between grits, oatmeal, and bread; Frosted flakes ranked up there among his best foods of all time. He watched her carefully place the lid back on the tin and let his mind wander for a moment. The morning his abilities kicked in he had been banging on his front door begging his father to let him in. The front door in all its splendor was replaced that morning after Kadin shattered it with his fists. Being careful as to what he did and how he did it was almost a routine procedure for his life.

“But whiskey? Nothin’ compares t’ a shot of bourbon..."
Kadin laughed and shook his head in utter amazement of this girls inability to accept her self as being on the losing team. Jack Daniels, Jim Bean, Wild Turkey, even Four Roses, it was all horrible when compared to his biased opinions. His mind drifted back to a time when he had sat on a hillside in the Scottish isles and drank a twenty-five year old bottle of Cardhu Malt Whiskey. The sweet malty taste seemed to appear in his mouth with just the thought of the beverage.
"Your whiskey is good, but it is not the best..." He stated with a grin as he tossed the damp napkin with just enough length to hit her in the back of the head while she was peering into the fridge.

He ignored the Eskimo crack, and gave her a puzzled look at the mention of some unknown woman. His eyes dropped down to the young girl again as she spoke.

"Who're you? Are ya a mutant too?"
His eyes glanced about the room for a moment before he nodded his head.

"Yes I am..." He said slowly, "And a very strong one at that..." He added jokingly as he playfully flexed one of his arms in front of her.
It was odd, he had never been called a mutant. This was due mainly to the fact that he never exposed himself to anyone, but also because across the seas the world wasn't as insane as it was here. Rosie's youth and innocence made him a tad bit sad. He had missed that part of his life. Whether it was his life with his mother or his life with his father he couldn't remember, but somewhere in there he lost that innocence and grew up.

He nodded a silent hello to the two girls as he stepped a little further back into the kitchen. Not only was he surrounded by more people than he had ever actually talked to, but they were all females. It was a very awkward situation for a person whom had never had to much interaction in the first place.

"Got a name, homme?”
With a nervous glance to the others his eyes jumped to Riva as she spoke to him.
"Kadin..." He said slowly as he took a deep breath. It was a bit much to be here, and have this many people standing around him. For a normal person it wouldn't be a problem but for him it was just a bit odd.

"I'm guessing that you're...Riva...I mean...thats what the little girl...Rosie called you..." His statement was more like a question in the form of a statement. For the first time this morning he felt like an idiot. Which was most likely a good thing seeing as his previous record had been two minutes and it had just been one person asking for directions.
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Violey
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Aerokinesis, Audiokinesis / Flight
Jayson beamed at Rosie. "You are welcome little miss," she said smiling brighter. "My step cousins liked to chew on a wash cloth when they were teething, too. Then when their mouths feel better they would get a Popsicle." Taking a gloved hand she messed up the toddler's hair after she stopped her dancing. "You know kid you dance great. But time to get a makin' those muffins," she added before disappearing in the pantry for ingredients.

Violey on the other hand stayed seated and watched the interaction between Riva and the new guy with mild amusement. "Kadin welcome to Xavier's," she greeted. A smile was in place on her two toned lips. "Eet is a pleasure to meet you. As stated I am Violey and the girl in the pantry is Jayson." Her jeweled green gazed drifted to Rosie. The little girl with the wash cloth was absolutely adorable. "And you are Rosie," she introduced with a giggle.

"At ze institute when introducing ourselves we usually reveal our mutant powers." There was an unconscious pause when Violey had said the word mutant. That word was still new in her vocabulary and she didn't wish to make it a norm. Unfazed, though, she contained. "I am an aerokinetic. I can control ze wind," she explained.

"And my friend turns people to stone with one touch. As well as-” Her words were cut off because the stone-turner chose that moment to speak over her. "Now ya don't have to go scaring the poor dude," Jayson added hurriedly. In her arms were laden the ingredients she needed to make her famous muffins: a mix of spices (including the secret ingredient), a bag of flour and one of sugar, and an array of other stuff much needed. Without care she allowed them all drop onto the table in front of her friend.

"Now Kadin," Jayson addressed with a smile. "You may be on flour detail. Unless you have some uncontrolled super strength we don't know about," she joked after handing him the bag of flour. "Riva you'll be in charge of getting the measuring cups and mixing bowls. Violey you may hand me the ingredients I need. And Rosie what flavor do you want the muffins to be. What fruit do we have?" she asked the room.

If the others hadn’t picked up on in yet they would soon. There was no way Jayson was going to make everyone else muffins unless they helped. Either way she would be happy. If no muffins were made she could have a bowl of cereal and return to bed. If they were made than she could have a muffin then return to bed.
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Rosie
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Rosie made a face at Riva's thumb-sucking comment. But she liked sucking her thumb -- it made her feel better when it was all dark and everything. But maybe the washcloth was better; she knawed on it thoughtfully, happy that it was actually lessening the pain.

Hmm...maybe there was something to this washcloth thing after all...

Still knawing, and still doing her muffin dance, Rosie looked around the room. So the new guy was Kadin. Kewl name...there were a lot of different names at the mansion, she'd disovered. Not a lot of normal ones like Mary or John or David...but honestly, Rosie liked the original names.

So long as they were telling what powers they had, Rosie piped up, feeling incredibly important -- even though she needed an inhibitor bracelet. "I make things go 'whoosh'." The little girl piped, taking the washcloth out of her mouth for this explanation. She made a motion with her hands, demonstrating just how things around her would go flying.

The question of muffin flavors made the little girl go quiet, thinking as she knawed harder on the washcloth. If someone ever developed flavored washclothes, she would be in hog heaven, but in the meantime she was content to knaw and ease the pain in her mouth.

"Booberry." She finally decided, bouncing over to the pantry door to look for blueberries. It was child-proofed, of course, but that didn't stop her from rattling it, annoyed, before reaching for "her" apron. It was actually an old adult-sized apron cut down to fit her, but it did the trick.

"No wait." She changed her mind, making a face. "What 'bout pineapple?" Rosie look around the room, as though the spiky fruit would suddenly materialize out of nowhere. Nope, no such luck.

"No...." A grin spread slowly on Rosie's lips, and had the washcloth not been in her mouth she would have been drooling. "Purple muffins." Thus decided, she went to stand beside the sink, ready to help.
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Riva
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Riva had been raised by some very.. strong-willed people. Her grandparents, though old and far beyond their prime, were by no means meek nor feeble. Contest to their word was met with a very diplomatic and consistent smack on the back of the head. Because of their age and wisdom spanning generations, what they knew was always truth. Their opinions? Law. Most of the old-fashioned set is like that.

Her mother.. was no better. By appearance, she may have fit the archetype of the progressivist woman, the ruthless corporate hellhound clawing her way to the top and biting at the ankles of her weaker superiors. The single mom that didn’t need the support or approval of a man, nor wanted it; she knew what was best for her child, taught her to shun the patriarchy and carry herself as an independent and assertive woman. You don’t engrain that into your child’s head and then expect them to be submissive. You shouldn’t expect her to call you ‘mom’ either when you total maybe 5 hours of contact with her a week, but that’s a different story.

Riva had plenty of places to draw her obstinacy from. While some might consider that kind of bias to be a character flaw, Riva prided herself on it. She wouldn’t permit being walked all over. And she never tired of proving how right she was. As far as she was concerned, Kadin’s cease of further pursuit on the virtues of American liquor was another debate won. In America, we call that filibustering.

With the prospect of home baked and divinely fluffy muffins on the horizon, a frozen breakfast sandwich paled in comparison. It didn’t take long for Riva to throw her bounty back in the freezer, giving an impatient little grumble as the chill settled in her fingers. In the meantime, Rosie began interrogating the newbie. She laughed lightly at the question. If he wasn’t a mutant, well, he was pretty much in the wrong place. The flexing was a bit gratuitous, but Riva wasn’t complaining.

“Y’ name ain’ Rosie, silly. It’s Monkey,” she grinned, poking at Rosie’s sides with her still-cold fingers. “An’ that may be so, Kadin,” she added, sort of butchering his name with her Cajun lilt, “but Ah’m bettin’ y’ ain’ as strong as me.” Seemed like a very far-fetched notion; Riva was a thin girl, not sickly so, but definitely not what came to mind when regarding physical strength. As Jayson interjected to keep Violey from revealing too much, the redhead laughed again.

“What’s wrong? Don’ wanna let the boys know y’ can beat ‘em up? Or y’ reserve that special treatment jus’ fo’ Faye?” Whether or not those two were an item was up for serious debate. “Is that why y’ dyed y’ hair? Y’ look so cute when y’ match.” Of course, Riva’s teasing wasn’t meant to be taken seriously. She pulled her sweater’s hood over her own red hair, only to cringe as she felt something damp plop onto her head.

“Ewww…” she groaned, and plucked out.. a paper towel? Apparently, it’d been sitting in her hood ever since he’d pelted the back of her head with it. Her yellow eyes snapped back to Kadin, and she regarded him with a mock serious frown. The next moment, the napkin was streaking towards him. “Goober,” she snickered, and turned back to Jayson and Violey, in time for her assignment. She nodded, since there was no point in arguing with that unless she wanted to go muffinless. Rosie prattled on about muffin flavors, and Riva could feel her stomach doing flip-flops at the potential menu. Lord have mercy on your stomach.

“Jus’ don’ make anythin’ with nuts in it, please. ‘S been a lovely day so far, an’ Ah don’ want any allergies t’ ruin it,” she called, already rummaging through the pantry for the measuring cups.
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Kadin
Unregistered

"Now Kadin," Jayson addressed with a smile. "You may be on flour detail. Unless you have some uncontrolled super strength we don't know about..."

There were two types of questions in the world, those asked directly, and those asked indirectly. When a question is asked directly, the responding person has the choice to answer yes, no, or maybe; and follow up with a reason for their answer. These questions come in the form of, "Would you like a cup of tea?" or "Did you finish all of your homework?". On the other hand, when a question is asked indirectly, the responding person has the choice of responding, leaving the question unanswered, or shrugging their shoulders and following that up with an uncomfortable laugh. This was one of those times.

His mind jumped back to an occurrence where as a baby he had broken his own crib in a bout of frustration at being placed there. Then there was the image of him, a twelve year old boy, being locked out into the cold for his "Own Good". Moments later he smashed the door down. Again his mind jumped yet this time to a more recent occurrence where he saw himself rushing into an intersection to move a small child out of harms way, while in turn allowing a bus to literally run him over...or rather crumble over his body.

He took a moment to look at Jayson, and then smiled at Riva, and looked over at Violey.
"I wouldn't call it "Uncontrolled" Super strength." He said slowly. After talking with Scott about it last night it a tad bit easier to bring it up.
"I can lift over 35 tons without breaking a sweat." Kadin was almost shy about revealing what he could do. Boasting about it wasn't necessarily something he wanted to do, but it was hard not to boast about being able to hold a bridge up or bust through the side of a building.
"And...uhh...My skin..." He struggled to find the right words. Calling his skin bullet proof was a bit of an understatement. He could take a bus at forty miles an hour and not have a scratch on his body afterwards, it was pretty much impenetrable.
"My skin is...well it's bulletproof...pretty much." He shrugged his shoulders as he finally let it out. Settling for what it seemed to be was so much more easy than explaining it.

Holding the flour bag in one hand he snatched the damp paper towel out of the air and simply threw it back at her with a sly grin.
..::Still think you can take me?::.. He mouthed with a grin.
He set the flour down on the counter top behind him after looking at it for a moment. Kadin still had no idea what he was to do with it or how to use it really so he just set it down, and turned back to the others. It was still odd, the interaction with others. He had never been social and even after the past thirty minutes he still didn't consider himself social, but it almost came easy with these people. Acceptance, it was an unknown and mysterious feeling...one he hadn't quite developed an opinion on yet.

As Rosie began her decision making process on what flavor the muffins should be Kadin's mouth began to water. He had eaten pineapple fresh, well as fresh as it could be after an iced fruit truck delivers it to a vending stand. In Germany he had eaten blueberries, he had no idea how they had gotten them there or where they had grown them, but only that they were like much like frosted flakes; food for the gods!

Kadin had a bad experience with nuts, at one point he had even choked on an almond while trying it. It was not a very fun story and after that he tried to stay away from nuts and seeds.
"Yes...Please...no nuts..." He said slowly as he shook his head.

((Ooc: Sorry if I rambled...I lost my mojo for a bit...))
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Violey
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Aerokinesis, Audiokinesis / Flight
Momentarily Jayson froze to the spot she stood. Her shoulders began to shake as though uncontrollably. The red head began to silently giggle. Kadin had taken her statement too literality. The whole uncontrolled super strength had been a joke. His powers weren't known at that moment because she and her friend had walked into the later end of Riva's and his conversation.

A whistle was issued as she turned to face the guy holding the bag of flour awkwardly. "35 tons, that is just, wow," she said. "I'm just of about over average strength. My limit is 500lbs. give or take. Though I am durable than most but no where near bullet proof." Without really making any note Jayson turned and went and opened the fridge. There just had to be some fruit somewhere in the mass of food which reminded her of her step-uncle’s garage fridge.

Violey still remained seated at the table. Becoming bored but really not accepting it her nimble fingers began to organize the ingredients. Her friend protected her family's secret recipe like a quest. It seemed Violey must have been told it because it looked like she knew what had to be done. In reality she was never told and rarely was allowed to watch the other make muffins.

The moment Kadin began to hesitate she looked up. Bulletproof was an interesting power. It brought a half smirk to her lips which caused the corner of the black side to curl. "You are no Superman, correct?" Violey asked. "Unless you are not telling us zat you 'ave laser beams behind you eyes and can fly. For Superman is also bulletproof," she ended explaining her reasoning. It was possible that the new guy wasn't revealing all aspects of his powers. She certainly hadn't explained what being an aerokinetic truly meant.

By this time the stone-turner's gloved hand was so far into the fridge it looked as though the cold monstrosity was in the process of eating her arm. In the way back behind bottles of condiments and the delightful dish Riva had seen earlier was a thing of fruit. Though Violey's question irritated her she did not retaliate. Riva had struck up a challenge.

"I don't beat up on Faye," Jayson said in a strained voice. Getting to the fruit like this wasn't fun. "I only threaten to do so at the end of every sentence. And my hair was initially dyed because I lost a bet not to match him. Never teach the young how to play cards. Better yet never teach them how to gamble and make bets." Really, her last words must be the moral of the tale. Then again, though her blonde roots were showing, she had yet to let her real color to grow out. It was only a coincidence.

"Hey, little Rosie monkey," the stone-turner said with a giant smile on her face. "Looky what I found. Blueberries, yay!" Besides the fact her arm was freezing Jayson was happy to have found a quart of beautiful looking round really blue blueberries. They seemed fresh and belonged to someone else due to the name written on the side of the green quart basket. But who cared in the fridge they were free game to anyone.

Placing them onto the counter next to the flour Jayson watched as a few rolled off. Catching the blueberries before they hit the ground she placed them back into the basket. "Kadin, can you wash these," the stone-turner asked. "Violey will be on flour detail. And Rosie I'll make you a purple muffin. What’re your favorite colors, everyone? Oh, absolutely no nuts Violey."

Being addressed Violey looked up at her friend with narrowed eyes. The she had said her last sentence; Jayson seemed to imply that she would be mad without getting any nuts. It weren't true. "Zat eez fine. I will 'ave my share of nuts later in ze day." Was all she said.
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