(no subject)
OOC: Set immediately after the Toxin log with the monkeys.
Hmm.
I think my sense of humor ought to be excised. It is far more trouble than it's worth. Perhaps once I have become an expert on primate neurology, I can do something about that.
An idea that might have merits if it weren't horrifically bad.
Note to self: there can always be more absurdity, even if imagination fails you.
<> Main Complex - Lv1
The entirety of the Brotherhood's main complex seems to have been carved right into the rocky, montainous cliffs that jut up into the sky, melding in the back with the cliffs on the opposite side of the island and dropping right back down into the ocean. Large, well-guarded steel doors mark the entrance to the complex, and through them stretches a network of hallways in the stone of the cliffs as as metal plating on the floor or sometimes as walls. Lighting is hooked up in the ceiling to brighten the way for anyone roaming the halls that lead to various rooms within headquarters.
A figure of solemn severity emerges from the elevator and moves at a swift pace across the complex, heels clicking briskly across the floor. Fine blonde hair drawn back in a tight tail, Ellen is sleek and sophisticated (buttoned, collared, trousered) business casual, blue and grey. This perfect picture of poise is, however, marred: instead of any more traditional position, the long, slim fingers of both hands are curled around a small stuffed monkey.
From the opposite end of the passage, Erik Lensherr approaches - long, even strides echoing down the length of the corridor long before he's actually distinguishable from the shadow that engulfs the area. A few seconds later, the heavy metal doors at the complex entrance groan into place behind him. The reason for pause becomes evident within a moment or two, as the click of claws over the steel plated floor becomes audible in the wake of each footfall. Dressed in a militaryesque ribbed black sweater and matching slacks, Erik is looking much more himself - posture upright and arrogant. Achilles moves at his typical lope, unrestrained, but well trained enough to remain at his owner's side.
Ellen's quick steps come to an immediate halt at the sound of his approach. She closes her eyes briefly, pulls in a deep breath through her nose, and through sheer force of iron will /prevents/ her mouth from quivering with the effort to avoid hysterical laughter. Then she raises her head, proud Valkyrie, stern Valkyrie and cool; monkey gripped tightly in her hands, she ventures forward against and, by necessity, towards him.
Chin lifted, chest out, shoulders rigid, Erik continues on without pause upon noting another's imminent approach. 'Another' is filed down to 'Ellen' quickly enough. Cool blue glare shifting to hers when he's still some distance away, it takes him a moment to take note of the fact that she's holding...a monkey. The instant this occurs should be recognized easily enough by the way his glare drops to said monkey, his brows twinge towards each other, and the steady rhythm of his footfalls hesitates somewhat.
Slim fingers tighten slightly on the monkey, although not actually enough to pop off its little stuffed head. "Good afternoon, sir," Ellen says, grave and cool. Her eyes flicker briefly to Achilles, although they return to the dog's owner quickly enough.
From hesitation to a slow halt, it seems that something within Erik cannot allow for this situation to pass with a simple greeting and a nod - though he offers both, glare having lifted back up to meet Ellen's gaze evenly enough in the meanwhile. Achilles stops as well, deep, friendly brown eyes tracking shamelessly up to Ellen's monkey. Jaws slacking open into a lazy pant, the brutish canine wags his tail. Erik ignores the thump of it against the side of his leg.
Ellen yields to the impossibility of escape and stops walking, standing solemn and erect as a young tree. Words, however, fail her. For the moment. She gazes helplessly into his face, unwitting victim of childlike generosity that she is.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Erik inhales, as if to speak, only to stifle whatever it was he was going to say somewhat tiredly - eyes casting back down to the animal briefly. Then to Achilles, entranced by the little monkey as he is at the moment. Deep breath pushed out slowly, he looks back up to Ellen, forces a weary half-smile, and nods once more, already moving to step past her and continue along his way.
"There was a small girl," Ellen says: weak protestation (of innocence, dignity, reason--!) torn in quavering alto from her throat. "She gave me a monkey. I was uncertain how to proceed."
A slow turn executed before he's managed to make it two steps, Erik knits his brows back at her, only mildly baffled. This is the Brotherhood island. Stranger things have occured. "Lillianne?"
Ellen shakes her head swiftly, turned on her heel to face him. "Aramina," she replies.
"Ah...of course. Aramina." This, at least, seems to eliminate most of his bafflement. Unfortunately, the fact remains that the current topic of discussion between two rather reserved individuals is a small stuffed monkey. Achilles' snuffling along the join between steel floor and rock wall fills the brief silence that ensues until Erik arches a brow. "She must have taken a liking to you."
"I was asking Toxin to requisition some monkeys. To be experimental subjects," Ellen explains, mirth beginning its undignified tremor in the back of her voice. Her mouth, however, remains perfectly solemn. "I believe she was trying to be of help."
"I was asking Toxin to requisition some monkeys. To be experimental subjects," Ellen explains, mirth beginning its undignified tremor in the back of her voice. Her mouth, however, remains perfectly solemn. "I believe she was trying to be of help."
Magneto turns a little more fully at that - willing, it seems, to be patient for the sake of hearing the entirety of her explanation. "I'm sure." He pauses. "Not to the island, I hope?" The look in his eyes is brief, but clear enough while it's there. 'I have enough to keep track of on this island without involving primates.'
Ellen's mouth does quirk then, ever-so-slightly. "Toxin said something about securing a suitable site on the mainland for brief visits."
Magneto nods to that, relief easing some of the tension in his jaw even as the monkey gets...yet another glance. Achilles, for his part, has disregarded the wall to pace all the way back to Ellen, where he's occupied with staring solemnly up at the monkey in question - tail still wagging slowly behind him. "Achilles has a monkey as well." If Erik looks faintly miserable at this admission, it's surely a trick of the light, and nothing more.
Ellen looks down at the monkey in her hands, and then at the dog, and then back up at Erik again. "Would he like another one?" The ghosts of mirth shadow her mouth, trembling in her voice, dancing in her eyes.
"The question, I'm afraid, is whether or not he /needs/ another one." It seems that a single monkey, in Erik's opinion, is quite enough. "Aside, I think Aramina might be inclined to take offense if she happened to see him with it." Brows slightly knit again, Erik takes the time to look at her a little more closely. "Are you all right?"
Ellen raises her head, fighting back valiantly against the legions of hilarity. "Yes, sir," she says. "I'm sorry. It's just--" She pauses and takes a deep breath. Sweet, composure-restoring oxygen. "Extremely ridiculous."
"Well," says Erik, gaze still carefully considering, "yes." Achilles has hardly moved aside from the continued wagging, tongue slacking out to press up over the coal black of his nose before sliding back to take part in his panting, hopeful, and pathetically innocent grin. "I won't tell anyone."
Ellen looks down into that doggy grin again and cannot help but smile as her blue-grey eyes slide back to Erik's face. "Thank you," she says. "I appreciate that."
Magneto seems a little torn, now that he has a better idea of what's going on, exactly. Carry on along his way and maintain something resembling dignity, or remain behind and prod mercilessly at a side of one of his recruits that he hasn't seen much of yet. "Your thanks is hardly necessary. This is just as awkward for me as it is for you, I'm sure." One of his two steps is recovered, bringing him back within arm's reach, where he can finally get a better look at the monkey before he seeks out eye contact. "You weren't going to laugh, were you?"
Ellen raises her eyebrows at him, though the blandness of her expression remains less than perfect. "I was doing my best to avoid it, sir," she replies, and though her voice is smooth again, it's still warmed with amusement's touch, despite her best efforts.
"Probably for the best." Erik mutters, one hand extended with fingers splayed and palm up. Asking for the monkey, as he clarifies, "The world might have ended."
Ellen solemnly presents Magneto with her monkey and informs, "I prefer not to accelerate the universe towards its eventual heat-death any more than strictly necessary."
"Well, I do appreciate the effort. It's exceedingly honorable of you to show such restraint in the face of such utter rediculousness." A faint smile going unrepressed, Erik turns the monkey over in his hands, then holds it back out for her to take.
Ellen plucks it delicately from his fingers. "A very difficult trial, sir," she says. "But I believe I have come through it, more or less, as I cannot conceive of a way to increase the absurdity at this point."
"You are fortunate, my dear," voice lowered somewhat, Erik recovers his second step as he speaks, "that I am the guardian of too much dignity to interpret that statement as a challenge. As there /are/ those here who have no such qualms, I highly recommend that you start carrying a piece of wood to knock on in the event that you should feel inclined to continue saying that sort of thing."
Fair-complected cheeks touched with the slightest hue of blush, Ellen tilts her head slightly to one side, and -- ah, the slightest loosening of restraint; entropy be damned -- allows herself a grin: a brief flash and fleeting, but it lingers in her eyes. "I am as ever thankful for your dignity, sir," she says, low and amused in return as she cocks an eyebrow. "And I shall begin prowling the lumberyards at my earliest opportunity."
"As am I. Things around here have been odd enough without me misbehaving more than I already have." Back to a mutter, Magneto meets her grin with a smirk that passes almost as quickly. "We do have an entire forest on the island."
"There is that," Ellen agrees mildly. "I suppose if I need wood, I won't have to go far."
Magneto actually scoffs at that, demeanor failing until he's managed to pull in a deep breath and force himself back into a state of stubborn gravity...which fails not even a minute later. "'Wood', Ms. Dramstadt?"
Ellen blinks at him, slowly, though the twitch of her lips -- insuppressable -- suggests the beginnings of a smile. "Forests are full of it, sir."
"Mmm. Full of it." Erik echoes, smirk making a slow return. "It would seem that you have something in common, then."
"Sir," Ellen answers, playing at reproach, "I am continually monitoring." Despite her best efforts, laughter sneaks in, sending alto's notes quavery and trembling as she continues, "I assure you that if there was any wood anywhere in my body, I would be aware."
"..." is Erik's brilliant reply to that, cool blue eyes lancing suspiciously back up to hers as he shifts his weight enough to curl a pair of fingers into a scritch at Achilles' ear. "Mystique?"
Ellen blinks, mirth's tide receding in the face of puzzlement. Though the eye contact is undeniable, she twists to look over her shoulder anyway, and finding the passageway absent visibly naked blue women lurking in the shadows, returns her glance to meet his and cants her head slightly to one side.
Magneto just looks back at her, his bafflement disguised well enough, save for the way he's actually looking at her, now. "I should hope constant monitoring isn't /required/ for you to notice such things."
"No," Ellen answers slowly. She blinks at him a few times in rapid succession. "Foreign objects are generally fairly noticeable."
Magneto relaxes at that. A little, anyway - shoulders sloping a bit as he eyes her. Whether it's the press of Achilles' snout up into his palm or Ellen's demeanor that's helping isn't clear. "Are you flirting with me, Ellen?"
"Not very well," Ellen admits ruefully, as cheeks flush again.
A quiet chuckle seems to be all Erik is capable of producing in the wake of that admission, his amusement trailing off into a sigh quickly enough. "You're doing fine. Though...I will suggest that you...well. I suppose I'm not in any position to make suggestions."
"I imagine," Ellen says gravely, "that it might help when I am rid of the monkey." It's a wry look that blends across her face. "It's a game I never learned, sir," she adds. "I'll try not to make you uncomfortable in future."
"I was going to suggest that you lose the wood, actually. The monkey is of little consequence to me, so long as it is stuffed. Try not to worry quite so much, hm? If I am uncomfortable, you will know it. I'm hardly the sort to worry about hurt feelings." If Sabella's departure was any indication. This goes, of course, unspoken.
Ellen nods once and moistens her lips. "All right," she answers. "Well ... but for now I should take my leave, sir." Also known as 'fleeing'. Her mouth turns up at the corners again for a slight smile. "I have mice to feed."
"Of course." One last nod, and Erik turns to continue on in the direction he was originally headed in. Achilles lingers behind well after Erik's hand has ceased it's scritching - not giving up on Ellen's monkey until his name is called from some distance down the corridor and he's forced to lope after it.
And brisk pace's resumed, hurried steps to carry Ellen home. To her mice. Which don't talk.
Hmm.
I think my sense of humor ought to be excised. It is far more trouble than it's worth. Perhaps once I have become an expert on primate neurology, I can do something about that.
An idea that might have merits if it weren't horrifically bad.
Note to self: there can always be more absurdity, even if imagination fails you.
<> Main Complex - Lv1
The entirety of the Brotherhood's main complex seems to have been carved right into the rocky, montainous cliffs that jut up into the sky, melding in the back with the cliffs on the opposite side of the island and dropping right back down into the ocean. Large, well-guarded steel doors mark the entrance to the complex, and through them stretches a network of hallways in the stone of the cliffs as as metal plating on the floor or sometimes as walls. Lighting is hooked up in the ceiling to brighten the way for anyone roaming the halls that lead to various rooms within headquarters.
A figure of solemn severity emerges from the elevator and moves at a swift pace across the complex, heels clicking briskly across the floor. Fine blonde hair drawn back in a tight tail, Ellen is sleek and sophisticated (buttoned, collared, trousered) business casual, blue and grey. This perfect picture of poise is, however, marred: instead of any more traditional position, the long, slim fingers of both hands are curled around a small stuffed monkey.
From the opposite end of the passage, Erik Lensherr approaches - long, even strides echoing down the length of the corridor long before he's actually distinguishable from the shadow that engulfs the area. A few seconds later, the heavy metal doors at the complex entrance groan into place behind him. The reason for pause becomes evident within a moment or two, as the click of claws over the steel plated floor becomes audible in the wake of each footfall. Dressed in a militaryesque ribbed black sweater and matching slacks, Erik is looking much more himself - posture upright and arrogant. Achilles moves at his typical lope, unrestrained, but well trained enough to remain at his owner's side.
Ellen's quick steps come to an immediate halt at the sound of his approach. She closes her eyes briefly, pulls in a deep breath through her nose, and through sheer force of iron will /prevents/ her mouth from quivering with the effort to avoid hysterical laughter. Then she raises her head, proud Valkyrie, stern Valkyrie and cool; monkey gripped tightly in her hands, she ventures forward against and, by necessity, towards him.
Chin lifted, chest out, shoulders rigid, Erik continues on without pause upon noting another's imminent approach. 'Another' is filed down to 'Ellen' quickly enough. Cool blue glare shifting to hers when he's still some distance away, it takes him a moment to take note of the fact that she's holding...a monkey. The instant this occurs should be recognized easily enough by the way his glare drops to said monkey, his brows twinge towards each other, and the steady rhythm of his footfalls hesitates somewhat.
Slim fingers tighten slightly on the monkey, although not actually enough to pop off its little stuffed head. "Good afternoon, sir," Ellen says, grave and cool. Her eyes flicker briefly to Achilles, although they return to the dog's owner quickly enough.
From hesitation to a slow halt, it seems that something within Erik cannot allow for this situation to pass with a simple greeting and a nod - though he offers both, glare having lifted back up to meet Ellen's gaze evenly enough in the meanwhile. Achilles stops as well, deep, friendly brown eyes tracking shamelessly up to Ellen's monkey. Jaws slacking open into a lazy pant, the brutish canine wags his tail. Erik ignores the thump of it against the side of his leg.
Ellen yields to the impossibility of escape and stops walking, standing solemn and erect as a young tree. Words, however, fail her. For the moment. She gazes helplessly into his face, unwitting victim of childlike generosity that she is.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Erik inhales, as if to speak, only to stifle whatever it was he was going to say somewhat tiredly - eyes casting back down to the animal briefly. Then to Achilles, entranced by the little monkey as he is at the moment. Deep breath pushed out slowly, he looks back up to Ellen, forces a weary half-smile, and nods once more, already moving to step past her and continue along his way.
"There was a small girl," Ellen says: weak protestation (of innocence, dignity, reason--!) torn in quavering alto from her throat. "She gave me a monkey. I was uncertain how to proceed."
A slow turn executed before he's managed to make it two steps, Erik knits his brows back at her, only mildly baffled. This is the Brotherhood island. Stranger things have occured. "Lillianne?"
Ellen shakes her head swiftly, turned on her heel to face him. "Aramina," she replies.
"Ah...of course. Aramina." This, at least, seems to eliminate most of his bafflement. Unfortunately, the fact remains that the current topic of discussion between two rather reserved individuals is a small stuffed monkey. Achilles' snuffling along the join between steel floor and rock wall fills the brief silence that ensues until Erik arches a brow. "She must have taken a liking to you."
"I was asking Toxin to requisition some monkeys. To be experimental subjects," Ellen explains, mirth beginning its undignified tremor in the back of her voice. Her mouth, however, remains perfectly solemn. "I believe she was trying to be of help."
"I was asking Toxin to requisition some monkeys. To be experimental subjects," Ellen explains, mirth beginning its undignified tremor in the back of her voice. Her mouth, however, remains perfectly solemn. "I believe she was trying to be of help."
Magneto turns a little more fully at that - willing, it seems, to be patient for the sake of hearing the entirety of her explanation. "I'm sure." He pauses. "Not to the island, I hope?" The look in his eyes is brief, but clear enough while it's there. 'I have enough to keep track of on this island without involving primates.'
Ellen's mouth does quirk then, ever-so-slightly. "Toxin said something about securing a suitable site on the mainland for brief visits."
Magneto nods to that, relief easing some of the tension in his jaw even as the monkey gets...yet another glance. Achilles, for his part, has disregarded the wall to pace all the way back to Ellen, where he's occupied with staring solemnly up at the monkey in question - tail still wagging slowly behind him. "Achilles has a monkey as well." If Erik looks faintly miserable at this admission, it's surely a trick of the light, and nothing more.
Ellen looks down at the monkey in her hands, and then at the dog, and then back up at Erik again. "Would he like another one?" The ghosts of mirth shadow her mouth, trembling in her voice, dancing in her eyes.
"The question, I'm afraid, is whether or not he /needs/ another one." It seems that a single monkey, in Erik's opinion, is quite enough. "Aside, I think Aramina might be inclined to take offense if she happened to see him with it." Brows slightly knit again, Erik takes the time to look at her a little more closely. "Are you all right?"
Ellen raises her head, fighting back valiantly against the legions of hilarity. "Yes, sir," she says. "I'm sorry. It's just--" She pauses and takes a deep breath. Sweet, composure-restoring oxygen. "Extremely ridiculous."
"Well," says Erik, gaze still carefully considering, "yes." Achilles has hardly moved aside from the continued wagging, tongue slacking out to press up over the coal black of his nose before sliding back to take part in his panting, hopeful, and pathetically innocent grin. "I won't tell anyone."
Ellen looks down into that doggy grin again and cannot help but smile as her blue-grey eyes slide back to Erik's face. "Thank you," she says. "I appreciate that."
Magneto seems a little torn, now that he has a better idea of what's going on, exactly. Carry on along his way and maintain something resembling dignity, or remain behind and prod mercilessly at a side of one of his recruits that he hasn't seen much of yet. "Your thanks is hardly necessary. This is just as awkward for me as it is for you, I'm sure." One of his two steps is recovered, bringing him back within arm's reach, where he can finally get a better look at the monkey before he seeks out eye contact. "You weren't going to laugh, were you?"
Ellen raises her eyebrows at him, though the blandness of her expression remains less than perfect. "I was doing my best to avoid it, sir," she replies, and though her voice is smooth again, it's still warmed with amusement's touch, despite her best efforts.
"Probably for the best." Erik mutters, one hand extended with fingers splayed and palm up. Asking for the monkey, as he clarifies, "The world might have ended."
Ellen solemnly presents Magneto with her monkey and informs, "I prefer not to accelerate the universe towards its eventual heat-death any more than strictly necessary."
"Well, I do appreciate the effort. It's exceedingly honorable of you to show such restraint in the face of such utter rediculousness." A faint smile going unrepressed, Erik turns the monkey over in his hands, then holds it back out for her to take.
Ellen plucks it delicately from his fingers. "A very difficult trial, sir," she says. "But I believe I have come through it, more or less, as I cannot conceive of a way to increase the absurdity at this point."
"You are fortunate, my dear," voice lowered somewhat, Erik recovers his second step as he speaks, "that I am the guardian of too much dignity to interpret that statement as a challenge. As there /are/ those here who have no such qualms, I highly recommend that you start carrying a piece of wood to knock on in the event that you should feel inclined to continue saying that sort of thing."
Fair-complected cheeks touched with the slightest hue of blush, Ellen tilts her head slightly to one side, and -- ah, the slightest loosening of restraint; entropy be damned -- allows herself a grin: a brief flash and fleeting, but it lingers in her eyes. "I am as ever thankful for your dignity, sir," she says, low and amused in return as she cocks an eyebrow. "And I shall begin prowling the lumberyards at my earliest opportunity."
"As am I. Things around here have been odd enough without me misbehaving more than I already have." Back to a mutter, Magneto meets her grin with a smirk that passes almost as quickly. "We do have an entire forest on the island."
"There is that," Ellen agrees mildly. "I suppose if I need wood, I won't have to go far."
Magneto actually scoffs at that, demeanor failing until he's managed to pull in a deep breath and force himself back into a state of stubborn gravity...which fails not even a minute later. "'Wood', Ms. Dramstadt?"
Ellen blinks at him, slowly, though the twitch of her lips -- insuppressable -- suggests the beginnings of a smile. "Forests are full of it, sir."
"Mmm. Full of it." Erik echoes, smirk making a slow return. "It would seem that you have something in common, then."
"Sir," Ellen answers, playing at reproach, "I am continually monitoring." Despite her best efforts, laughter sneaks in, sending alto's notes quavery and trembling as she continues, "I assure you that if there was any wood anywhere in my body, I would be aware."
"..." is Erik's brilliant reply to that, cool blue eyes lancing suspiciously back up to hers as he shifts his weight enough to curl a pair of fingers into a scritch at Achilles' ear. "Mystique?"
Ellen blinks, mirth's tide receding in the face of puzzlement. Though the eye contact is undeniable, she twists to look over her shoulder anyway, and finding the passageway absent visibly naked blue women lurking in the shadows, returns her glance to meet his and cants her head slightly to one side.
Magneto just looks back at her, his bafflement disguised well enough, save for the way he's actually looking at her, now. "I should hope constant monitoring isn't /required/ for you to notice such things."
"No," Ellen answers slowly. She blinks at him a few times in rapid succession. "Foreign objects are generally fairly noticeable."
Magneto relaxes at that. A little, anyway - shoulders sloping a bit as he eyes her. Whether it's the press of Achilles' snout up into his palm or Ellen's demeanor that's helping isn't clear. "Are you flirting with me, Ellen?"
"Not very well," Ellen admits ruefully, as cheeks flush again.
A quiet chuckle seems to be all Erik is capable of producing in the wake of that admission, his amusement trailing off into a sigh quickly enough. "You're doing fine. Though...I will suggest that you...well. I suppose I'm not in any position to make suggestions."
"I imagine," Ellen says gravely, "that it might help when I am rid of the monkey." It's a wry look that blends across her face. "It's a game I never learned, sir," she adds. "I'll try not to make you uncomfortable in future."
"I was going to suggest that you lose the wood, actually. The monkey is of little consequence to me, so long as it is stuffed. Try not to worry quite so much, hm? If I am uncomfortable, you will know it. I'm hardly the sort to worry about hurt feelings." If Sabella's departure was any indication. This goes, of course, unspoken.
Ellen nods once and moistens her lips. "All right," she answers. "Well ... but for now I should take my leave, sir." Also known as 'fleeing'. Her mouth turns up at the corners again for a slight smile. "I have mice to feed."
"Of course." One last nod, and Erik turns to continue on in the direction he was originally headed in. Achilles lingers behind well after Erik's hand has ceased it's scritching - not giving up on Ellen's monkey until his name is called from some distance down the corridor and he's forced to lope after it.
And brisk pace's resumed, hurried steps to carry Ellen home. To her mice. Which don't talk.