"This is getting ridiculous," Scott declared as he left the school building. "He isn't *anywhere*."
"Give it a rest, Scott," Jean soothed. "You know he has to be *some*where."
"He sure isn't on Institute grounds," Scott worried. "We looked. Even Logan couldn't find him."
"And it isn't like him to miss school if he doesn't have to," Kitty joined them in the school yard.
"That may be the scariest thing about him," Evan joked.
The others just glared at him. He hadn't been permitted to say much of anything since Kurt's disappearance.
"Okay," Jean conceded. "I haven't sensed him lately. But I know he's getting better at shielding. What?" she added, noticing that Scott suddenly looked very panicky.
"D'you think he could've gotten stuck in the Middleverse again?" he asked loudly.
Jean glanced around calmly. "Everyone doesn't need to know about that," she reminded him.
"The original gizmo got totalled," Kitty recalled. "And Forge keeps the new one under majorly heavy security."
"Since when does security mean anything to Kurt?" Scott countered.
"What, you think he sent *himself* to the Middleverse?" Jean furrowed her brow. "What kind of sense does that make?"
"I think Scott's come down with a case of fuzzy logic, brought on by stress and an oversize sense of responsibility," Kitty diagnosed.
"Everything Kurt thinks is fuzzy logic," Evan cracked.
"Fine," Scott sighed. "Let's go home. You can walk," he growled at Evan, "with Rogue." He pointed to a figure who had just appeared from a side entrance.
"Aww, man!" That was as far as Evan got, since no one was interested in standing around while he voiced his grievances.
**********
"Hey!" Kurt said to the cart-pusher nearest him. "Where are we going? Do you speak English?"
No answer.
"Sie sprechen Deutsche? Tu parli italiano? Parlez-vous francais?"
The man didn't respond to any of Kurt's attempts. He just marched along at a truly remarkable speed.
Eventually they reached a small clearing. A hundred pairs of hands hoisted Kurt from his ride. He found himself carried along the tide of the crowd and borne up a short flight of steps onto a raised platform. Before he knew it, he was seated in something that looked suspiciously like a throne. Everyone else scuttled off the platform and stood in almost-rows before him, waving their arms in the air.
Kurt quickly took stock of the situation. Nothing was on fire at the moment, and there was no pyre waiting for him. The natives weren't carrying anything resembling a weapon. But then, they weren't bringing him huge baskets of exotic foods either. Oh wait, yes they were.
Two very exotic young ladies offered him an ample serving of some fruit he'd never seen before. It was good though.
"Who are you?" Kurt asked after sampling some. "Che cos'e questa frutta? Wo bin ich?"
The girls just giggled at him.
"I hate language barriers," Kurt sighed.
The girls faded into the background as someone in a long purple robe climbed the steps. "I am Erti," he introduced himself. "The Gantil foretold of your coming."
Instantly, Kurt was mobbed by three other men in purple robes of a slightly lighter hue. They described circles around him, remarking on his various physical attributes.
"The extra limb indicates that the bounty will be great!" one declared.
"The paucity of digits suggests that our time of plenty will be short," another said.
"The quadrupedal movement shows that fortune will fall equally on everyone," the third divined.
The youngest man picked up Kurt's tail and examined it closely.
"That's mine," Kurt said defensively, snatching it back.
Another purple person slapped the younger one on the wrist. "You know better than that," he chided.
"Allow me to introduce the Three Listeners," Erti spoke up. "Fenor, Kyan, and Takren."
Kurt watched them warily. "What do you want from me?" he asked.
"You are a Messenger," Erti explained. "What do you bring for us?"
"I'm just a kid," Kurt curled into a corner of the seat. "I'm traveling. I don't know anything."
"Tell us something!" Takren, the young one, demanded.
"Er..." Kurt cast about his mind for something wise to say. "May mishto les o thud katar i gurumni kai tordjol."
The Listeners quickly formed a huddle to discuss the meaning of the mystic statement. The crowd cheered.
"Would you mind telling me where I am?" Kurt asked again.
Erti swept his robe in a grand arc. "I welcome you to the island of Vecchia Roma."
**********
A/N: Chapter 1 included the requisite disclaimer. Now, I would like to insert a claimer. Vecchia Roma, the four purple people, and the Gantil belong to me. Yay!
As for Kurt's statement of infinite wisdom, it's a Romani proverb. "It is easier to milk a cow that stands still."
"Give it a rest, Scott," Jean soothed. "You know he has to be *some*where."
"He sure isn't on Institute grounds," Scott worried. "We looked. Even Logan couldn't find him."
"And it isn't like him to miss school if he doesn't have to," Kitty joined them in the school yard.
"That may be the scariest thing about him," Evan joked.
The others just glared at him. He hadn't been permitted to say much of anything since Kurt's disappearance.
"Okay," Jean conceded. "I haven't sensed him lately. But I know he's getting better at shielding. What?" she added, noticing that Scott suddenly looked very panicky.
"D'you think he could've gotten stuck in the Middleverse again?" he asked loudly.
Jean glanced around calmly. "Everyone doesn't need to know about that," she reminded him.
"The original gizmo got totalled," Kitty recalled. "And Forge keeps the new one under majorly heavy security."
"Since when does security mean anything to Kurt?" Scott countered.
"What, you think he sent *himself* to the Middleverse?" Jean furrowed her brow. "What kind of sense does that make?"
"I think Scott's come down with a case of fuzzy logic, brought on by stress and an oversize sense of responsibility," Kitty diagnosed.
"Everything Kurt thinks is fuzzy logic," Evan cracked.
"Fine," Scott sighed. "Let's go home. You can walk," he growled at Evan, "with Rogue." He pointed to a figure who had just appeared from a side entrance.
"Aww, man!" That was as far as Evan got, since no one was interested in standing around while he voiced his grievances.
**********
"Hey!" Kurt said to the cart-pusher nearest him. "Where are we going? Do you speak English?"
No answer.
"Sie sprechen Deutsche? Tu parli italiano? Parlez-vous francais?"
The man didn't respond to any of Kurt's attempts. He just marched along at a truly remarkable speed.
Eventually they reached a small clearing. A hundred pairs of hands hoisted Kurt from his ride. He found himself carried along the tide of the crowd and borne up a short flight of steps onto a raised platform. Before he knew it, he was seated in something that looked suspiciously like a throne. Everyone else scuttled off the platform and stood in almost-rows before him, waving their arms in the air.
Kurt quickly took stock of the situation. Nothing was on fire at the moment, and there was no pyre waiting for him. The natives weren't carrying anything resembling a weapon. But then, they weren't bringing him huge baskets of exotic foods either. Oh wait, yes they were.
Two very exotic young ladies offered him an ample serving of some fruit he'd never seen before. It was good though.
"Who are you?" Kurt asked after sampling some. "Che cos'e questa frutta? Wo bin ich?"
The girls just giggled at him.
"I hate language barriers," Kurt sighed.
The girls faded into the background as someone in a long purple robe climbed the steps. "I am Erti," he introduced himself. "The Gantil foretold of your coming."
Instantly, Kurt was mobbed by three other men in purple robes of a slightly lighter hue. They described circles around him, remarking on his various physical attributes.
"The extra limb indicates that the bounty will be great!" one declared.
"The paucity of digits suggests that our time of plenty will be short," another said.
"The quadrupedal movement shows that fortune will fall equally on everyone," the third divined.
The youngest man picked up Kurt's tail and examined it closely.
"That's mine," Kurt said defensively, snatching it back.
Another purple person slapped the younger one on the wrist. "You know better than that," he chided.
"Allow me to introduce the Three Listeners," Erti spoke up. "Fenor, Kyan, and Takren."
Kurt watched them warily. "What do you want from me?" he asked.
"You are a Messenger," Erti explained. "What do you bring for us?"
"I'm just a kid," Kurt curled into a corner of the seat. "I'm traveling. I don't know anything."
"Tell us something!" Takren, the young one, demanded.
"Er..." Kurt cast about his mind for something wise to say. "May mishto les o thud katar i gurumni kai tordjol."
The Listeners quickly formed a huddle to discuss the meaning of the mystic statement. The crowd cheered.
"Would you mind telling me where I am?" Kurt asked again.
Erti swept his robe in a grand arc. "I welcome you to the island of Vecchia Roma."
**********
A/N: Chapter 1 included the requisite disclaimer. Now, I would like to insert a claimer. Vecchia Roma, the four purple people, and the Gantil belong to me. Yay!
As for Kurt's statement of infinite wisdom, it's a Romani proverb. "It is easier to milk a cow that stands still."
