Knock Knock. Who's there? A Mutant... Surprise!

[Catherine Kiyonari]

I fear who I am becoming,
I feel that I'm losing all beauty within
I can no longer restrain it,
My strength, it is fading
I have to give in
-It’s the Fear, Within Temptation

The leather seat chaffed horrible, the duct tape holding several springs within tore at the tender backside of bare legs and the interior of the taxi smelled of people… and feet. Huddled beside her mentor and friend, Catherine kept the faded cloak wrapped tightly around her body in a vain attempt to create a wool shield from the outside coming in. One tiny clawed foot dangled off the edge of the seat before drawing back under the safety of wool shield and if it were possible leaned further in Helen’s thick side. The elder woman patted her shoulder reassuringly before laying a heavy hand over folded ones. Dark green eyes peered from the small opening the hood left looking up to the Sister’s face before darting to the glass window that separated her and the second passenger from the driver who smelled faintly of sweat and spices.

The scratchy radio pulse with foreign music, a notch too high for sensitive ears and Catherine winced, pulling up narrow shoulders and the robes shifted and twitched in reply. Opening her mouth she bared her teeth in aggravation before shaking her head. The flat black ground that had stretched and wound from the airport had been eventful and that was putting it lightly. Getting the feline mutant to enter the strange yellow beast took both pleading of nun and driver before Cat had given in, clutching her cross as if it was her only lifeline.

“Catherine.” The cloak moved, the hood tilting up to met the sky blue eyes. Helen smiled, faint lines etching her mouth and her eyes crinkled from years of laughter. She reached over and rested her hand over a knee giving it a squeeze. “--{We’re almost there.}--“ A tilt of her head brought a lock of unruly hair from the collapsing bun that pulled the graying wisps of blonde back. The dark gaze stared back, wide with bewilderment that literally shone with the edge of tears. Dark circles formed under the eyes materializing from a long plane trip that left Helen grumpy and tired and little Catherine a wreck. The jet lag had gotten to both of them and each dealt with it in their own way. The missionary woman argued heatedly with anyone that stood in her way making even the biggest of men balk at her 5’4 frame. Still she had managed to arrange a taxi to pick them up from the small airport they arrived in at the outskirts of New York.

“--{Yes.}--” came the timid reply and the hood dropped before turning to look back out the window. The landscape blurred by and buildings towered like monsters with square eyes that leered unblinking. Strange smells drifted, each one more alien then the last making the knot in her stomach tighten painfully but she suffered in silence, watching the world dash past her behind the glass window. In a hypnotic fashion the view through the window lulled at her senses forcing the slumbering beast to settle down… to rest…

The crunch of gravel under spinning wheels spoke of different terrain jarring both women from an pathetic attempt to sleep. Cat scrubbed at her mouth with the back of her hand and ran her tongue across her teeth before yawning. Her jaw cracked and she rubbed it with the heel of her palm before folding her arms around her waist. Helen grumbled and groaned, muttering about sore joints and a bad hip before looking out the window at the wall of trees and brush that lined a long driveway. Up

Just as abruptly the taxi skidded to a stop nearly sending the woman reeling into the safety window. A loud tearing sound made Helen wince, close her eyes and sigh before looking. The sound had become a familiar household noise and the emotion of surprise had long since worn off only to be replaced with curiosity of what was damaged and how much would it cost. Silver claws that stretched from Catherine’s fingertips had embedded themselves in the front seat. With the hood pulled down, she couldn’t make out the shocked look of the mutant and in her tired sleep deprived, starving, grumpy state, the missionary woman laughed until she snorted.

Cat could only stare at the gouges she had made before prying herself loose, cotton batting clinging to them. It was an odd sight and she felt inwardly remorseful for gutting the seat, it really hadn’t done anything to her. She met the Sisters gaze with a guilty look that instantly vanished as the school came into her line of sight. Without regard to her friend she crawled across the woman, nearly laying atop her lap to look out the window. Her hand hit the window, an audible clink as her nails scratched the glass to lean forward pressing her nose to her reflection to stare up at the large European building. It loomed like a heavy spirit that had made its home amongst the ivy. The mutant’s weight was deceiving and Helen grunted before giving a resounding smack to the backside of her charge, eliciting a squeak and Cat fell backward, sitting on her knees.

Helen smirked and clucked her tongue at the indignant look directed at her. “--{Don’t look at me that way, you’re never too old for me to spank you. Now they’ll be plenty of time to see everything outside of the taxi my dear.} --“ Opening the door, she moved aside to let the feline slink out and stare open mouthed at the school. There were no real words to describe the beauty.

“What did you do to my taxi!” The driver who had already pulled their meager belongings from the trunk stared at the gashes in his seat. Unfazed Helen bent and picked up a bag, passing it to Catherine who clutched it tightly.

“- -{You should go inside. This could take a while.}- -“ With a gentle shove in the direction of the front door, Helen turned to the taxi ca driver rolling her sleeves up. Catherine wisely back a step up and her cramped tail swished in reply, creating a wave beneath her cloak. “What is wrong with you! This isn’t the city you crazy fool, you could have killed us…”

With the voices fading with each step, Catherine clutched her satchel to her chest and paused at the steps. Rubbing her foot against the back of her leg she hoped up on the first step before climbing the rest slowly stopping to crouch at the top. Balancing on the pads on her large feet the woman sniffed tentatively and a thousand smells answered her back. Drawing her head back, she bared ivory incisors and pushed back the edge of her hood. Looking over her shoulder at the shouting match she plucked at a unraveling hem of her bag before standing gradually to her little height. Using her satchel as armor she walked under the awning of the massive wooden door and lifted a small hand, touching fingertips lightly. She traced a inlaid design to the handle of the door. Cocking her head to the side, she wrapped fingers around it and tugged before awkwardly juggling her bag to free her second hand and with luck twisted it open. Creaking with a rather dramatic ominous tone, the door opened a fraction and the woman peered through the small opening, one green eye watching for movement.

((OOC: Open Tag, I can either continue on myself or someone can answer. I'm easy both ways))

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby vaguely remembers, from his months of cybernetic exploration of the Institute’s network, the marvelous intricacy of the new security system. It hadn’t made a lot of sense to him at the time – with a lot less work, it could have been made a lot more secure – but now that his brain is firing on all cylinders again, he gets it. Sure, they don’t want people sneaking onto the grounds without being noticed… but on the other hand it’s important not to freak out visitors with the appearance of an armed camp.

Anyway, one consequence is that Catherine’s arrival doesn’t go unobserved. The perimeter alert chimes softly in the kitchen as Bobby is assembling lunch, and he carries his sandwich to the nearest camera in time to see her leave the taxi and make her way down the entrance path. He watches her curiously, but the shapeless green cloak conceals pretty much everything except her size and furtive gait.

Taking his cue from the latter, he decides not to startle the new arrival with a showy greeting. So when the door creaks open, Bobby is leaning casually against one of the pillars in the lobby with a mostly-untouched roast-beef sandwich in one hand, waving cheerfully with the other.

"Howdy! Welcome to Xavier’s. You here to see anyone in particular?"

He looks Catherine over while trying, mostly unsuccessfully, not to look as though he’s looking; even in person, though, it’s hard to tell much. He’s pretty sure it’s a girl, impossibly tiny and frail-looking. Or… maybe not; something about her stance forces Bobby to rethink that impression. Sure, she can’t weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet, but Bobby has learned not to judge from that… for all he knows she’s strong enough to tear down the building, and the way she carries herself gives him the impression she might well be willing to try.

"I’m Bobby Drake… I’ll be your welcoming committee today."

[Catherine Kiyonari]

Sliding her palm against the door worn smooth by hundreds of hands, Catherine dropped her chin a fraction and sniffed at the door frame lightly closing one eye in concentration at the faint underlying fragrance of sweat mixing with several different scents of soaps and flowers. Pushing forward, the woman studied the door as she nudged it further open and followed the lines of wood up to the ceiling and bent in a half crouch at the looming roof. The chandelier lighting glowed like little fireflies giving off a warmth to the already amiability of the entrance hall.

>>"Howdy! Welcome to Xavier’s. You here to see anyone in particular?"<<

Dropping her head down immediately, the wide stance she had taken on narrowed as she hunched her shoulders and pulled her legs to stand straight. Unconsciously a hand came up defensively to cover her face, effectively covering part of her mouth through thin fingers. She hadn’t seen everything of the owner of the voice as she pulled herself back, the blur of color and the smell of fresh meat, the coppery scent of blood still clinging to the edges nearly overpowered by the foreign rubbings. Her stomach was getting the better of her when she bypassed fear to drool over food. “--{I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to enter without permission.} --“ She looked furtively behind her for any sign of the missionary woman but like a horror movie, it was eerily quiet and still. Without her anchor to her new world, Cat was easily at a lost. First instinct was to flee and hide and let Helen take care of everything. She drew one clawed foot behind her as if getting ready to bolt.

>>"I’m Bobby Drake… I’ll be your welcoming committee today."<<

Swallowing the lump in her throat and the desire to run off and with shaking limbs Catherine took a step into the entrance hall out of the doorway and dropped her bag beside her. Folding her hands she bowed deeply at the waist, the hood folding over her head and efficiently covering her entire face. With her eyes squeezed shut, the sounds and smells only became sharper. Holding the bow and from beneath the hood Cat worked her mouth and scowled stubbornly as she forced herself to speak, her voice only cracking and stumbling over her English. “Th…thank, you for, to give me…” Scowling at her awkwardness she lifted her face a fraction to take a peek at the American and clewed on her bottom lip as she stared at his shoes.

She was so easily frustrated at her inability and her cheeks grew warm from embarrassment. The knots in her stomach would have made a boy scout weep and she felt like sitting on the wood ground until Helen came back. In a quiet manner, she bowed deeper and whispered, “I am… sorry.” Her apology was a mix of entering the school without prior permission and her muddled attempt at English and inwardly, she was already apologizing for her appearance.

[Bobby Drake]

Bobby squints and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands at the stream of anxious Japanese – not that he expects that to help him make sense of a language he doesn’t know two words of, but it seems the proper reaction to a greeting of gibberish. "Um… let me guess… a friend of Logan’s? Sorry, he’s not here… I think maybe Warren se habla Japanese, though?"

Fortunately, whatever it is she said, it doesn’t seem to have been a death-threat or a challenge; at least, she’s walking in without a sign of hostility. Bobby breathes an involuntary sigh of relief… powers back or no, he’s not looking forward to being the Institute’s first line of defense for a while.

> “Th…thank, you for, to give me… I am… sorry.”

Right, OK… very much not-hostile. Good. And speaks some English. Even better. "No worries… come on in, we’ll get you settled somehow." He’s unsure how to respond to the ever-deepening bow, and finally settles on bowing back – though it doesn’t look anywhere near as graceful on him – before backing away from the door invitingly and gesturing her towards a couple of chairs. "I’m Bobby," he repeats more slowly, pointing to himself as he does so, and kicking himself mentally for adopting that boy-you-must-be-stupid tone everyone seems to adopt when talking to people who don’t speak their language.

"Are you…" he pauses, not quite sure what he was going to ask, given limited common vocabulary. His attention is ultimately distracted by the half-eaten sandwich in his hand. What the heck… food is universal, right? He points at the sandwich. "Are you hungry?"