"Rrow…" one fuzzy petting another fuzzy amused Tora, her small white-tiger cub playfully bat his huge paw at Nightcrawler's tail tip as he wagged it slowly. The cub, bored and knowing he would never catch that tail, snorts and clumsily pounces his way into Kurt's lap, shrugging his white fuzzy face in the wrinkles of Kurt's tan pants.
"Ah, he's an ass anyvhay, Tora, you could'a beat him up if you vhanted…" Kurt helped himself to the rice and fish Tora had to fight for, both him and the half-breed peacefully having lunch on the steps of the institute, cool winds slipping through their locks, the crisp sent of the fall air pleasing their noses, fresh food delighting their taste buds… Tora found peace with Kurt… rarely did she find peace now-a-day… or ever… not in that damned dank lab where they just created her for, seemingly, sex…
"Ass he may be, but he a tough guy… if I was to slip up I would be dead…" She continues the chatter with Kurt, digging through the rice for fish-bits.
"Is zat your best excuse?" His head tilted over some, a face of cute clueless making Tora smile shyly.
"What? Excuse? I was hungry… I didn't feel like getting into brawl over his arrogance…" Her head lops over to a side as well, looking at Kurt, who's lips grew ever-slowly into a mischievous smile.
"Oh c'mon Tora, vee both know zhat you vhould rather vhatch him strip naked zhen fight him…" Laughing, he casually looks at her with a smug grin, playful intentions behind it.
Tora's face dropped all emotions other than surprise… but it's not as if Kurt hadn't teased her on the subject before. He knew damn well she hated his guts and wanted his heart served to her on a silver platter. She couldn't help but to question herself on how she may act around him… perhaps doing something she doesn't even realize herself.
"Kurt, I hate that man. Simply."
"Vhatever you say!" He chuckled at her and prodded her cheek softly with his finger, about to comment on how pink they were, when the rolling of rubber car tires caught both of their attention spans.
A car? Perhaps a new mutant to join the team… how Tora wished it would be another man… not as arrogant either. She could get that idiot Logan off her thoughts. The passenger door flung open with a click, and a hand with a dark sleeve tightly hiding the arm held onto the door handle… seemed normal to the elf and half-breed. Only after one scaled foot set to the ground, taking the body of a dark feminine. Wings tightly held to her backside, three to four neatly grown scales sleekly under her ashen eye-orbs, and two sets of two spines sprouting on either side of her dark-haired head. The door was again slammed shut, and the Buick took off, rusted, looking like scrap.
Legs before the other, walking, a tail swaying behind the patterned trekking to the steps, the woman kept eyes on the ground and head pointed within the same direction. Now Kurt and Tora sprung to their feet… they stood upon the ball of their feets, like the animals they were… and so did the Dragon-women.
"Hello!" Kurt blurted out, Tora, jumpy, flinched a bit from the sudden action, "I'm Nightcrawler, and this is Tigress!"
The Dragon-women cocked her head up some to take a peek at them… blue? Fuzzy? And those ears…? Her head perks up ever-more, seeing as she was not alone in her un-human looks. The other woman was just as welcoming, though she has said nothing. Stripes, ears and eyes like a feline… a tail and long black claws… perhaps the Dragon woman would like it here more than she figured. For if others had to live with freakish bodies in society, maybe here she wouldn't be looked upon with fear.
"H-hello… I'm Fyer… I was told this is a sanctuary for… um…"
"Freaks?" Tora blinked, a finger to her lip with thought.
"Weird-o's?" Kurt improvised hidden goofiness.
The Dragon half-breed sighs sadly to them, a hand running under her thick locks to itch her scalp, "I guess…"
With a snatch of Fyer's wrist and a wink of his glittering eye, Kurt smiles to her, tugging her along into the institute, cheerful Tora not long behind, "Vhell, let me and Tigress me the first to show you around!"
Scribble went the fountain pen, ink in the shape of curved lines flooded the thin paper, writing to those younger mutants with less than… accepting parents.
Xavier calmly writes, patiently waiting for the one he called to step in his room. The ticking of his clock never seemed to bother him as it many of his students… perhaps he was just used to it… but this is all beside his point.
Head up as soft knocks echoed in his room, the man he called to see finally coming around.
"Oh, yes, please come in." His chair inches off from the desk so as his arms could rest upon it, his smile bright as the sunlight pouring into his room.
Creaking doors open some, a head peeking in and a hand on the door's edge, "Am I interrupting anything, Charles?"
"Not at all, get a chair Logan," The professor points his flat palm to a clear space in front of his wooden desk, noting Logan dragging a chain behind him and drawing closer to the desk.
The chair was an old one, made from dark oak and finished with a nice polish, but Logan didn't really care, he knew what was going to get scolded for and would like to get it over with, longing for a warm shower. The left leg crossed the other to relax, an arm lined with sleek muscles on the very side edge of the chair's back, and his wrist hung over the back of the chair's rim, "Okay… I can figure what I'm about to get scolded for…"
"Scolded? When have I… er, to the subject, Logan… Tora is having a hard enough time, and-"
"That cat is nothing but God damned walking trouble! What the hell do we need her here for anyway, huh? Can't she just run along to Magneto or something?" The relaxed position is quickly shifted to tense within a matter of seconds, balled fists on his knees. He never had stopped a sentence spoken from the professor, but Tora was something he would rather not discuss with anyone outside of his own mind.
Charles jerked his head back a bit, very surprised and taken by Logan's sudden shouting. Leaning his backside into his chair, he watches Logan intently, as if expecting him to rage on about Tora.
At this point the realization of his yelling sinks into to that thick head of his, one of his hands diving into the dark hair on that very same head, "Uh… I, uh… sorry Charles… I just don't think…"
"It's alright Logan, sometimes we need to gets things off our minds… but… you can't find Tora all that bad, can you?" There was Xavier in action, the patients of an Angel and the heart to match. To him, every living thing had a proper place on Earth.
The man twisted Charles's words over and over in his deep thoughts, of course he hated her… she was annoying, stupid, couldn't speak English correctly through those damned lips of hers, what a waste to have such full, perfect lips used in a disgraceful manner… at least those glinting green eyes of hers made up for it… possibly, she might have been acceptable as at least a worthy fighting opponent… but he refused to damage his pride, at all costs.
"Logan?" Xavier let upper-torso lean back onto the desk, always curious of other's thoughts, but holds himself form the urge to pry, "No answer?"
"I think I would be best to keep my mouth shut…" with a final nod of his head to the professor, Logan pulled himself to his feet and calmly took his presence out from the room, heading his way towards that shower.
"Oh, you are going to lose big, Scott!" Kurt, in a worn-in wife-beater top and PJ-pants during seven-at-night, smacks a small plastic ping-pong ball, the paddle held tightly with his curled tail.
"Oh really?" Scott scoffed back, hitting the ball softly with a smile, not wanting to send it half-way across the room.
Kurt, wobbling the paddle within his tail, a somewhat mocking gesture, waves his hands to himself, a 'bring it on' movement, "'Ja? I don't think so, pal!"
Spiking the small plastic ball, it clicked on the table and began it's journey flinging around the room: first to the ceiling, then to the tilted floor with a scrape, to a random wall, sounding a hallow thump… and finally, to a reading Fyer's head… rather hard as well.
"Alright! Who was the smartass who tossed that at me…?" the Dragon glared up to edgy Scott first, then to a even-more-nervous Kurt, who shyly smiled and points to the paddled within the tail.
"Sorry Fyer! Zah ball vhent crazy on me!" Slyly, yet still anxious, Nightcrawler snatches the ball happily perching on a pillow near Fyer, "It vhon't happen again!"
Her dark eyes only watch him a moment more before they turn soft with a smile blooming on her face to match. The dragon closes her book, the cover simply black, aged with a few tears here and there, and stands, bowing to the blue one, "Don't worry about it…"
Her head was last to rise, as it always seemed to be, and eyes setting upon Kurt and Scott's newest games, an intent Tora watching. Like some felines, that woman had a knack for popping out of unknown places and appearing from nowhere, as such behind the ping-pong table. She looked quite intent, her eyes on the ball every time it would fly back and forth, but you could tell the urge to bat at it was driving her insane.
"Hey Tora…" Scott uttered, swapping the ball to Kurt's side, "You and Fyre are both from the East, right?"
"Hey, 'ja!" Kurt spiked it back… but with less force behind it this time, "You guys could speak native to each other, vee vhouldn't know vhat you guys are saying!"
Tora giggled at Kurt's suggestion and looked to Fyer, her face saying out-loud to the Dragon 'Pity him'. Fyer shrugged and lazily glanced her dark orbs to Kurt, a small strand of deep-brown hair falling over her face, "But I do not speak Chinese."
"…And I don't speak Japanese," Tora naively blinks her sparkling eyes a number of times, confused on how they could mystify her homelands of China with Fyer's homelands of Japan… hell, she wondered why everyone does.
"Well…" a deep voice draws all the eyes in the room to a certain point, which happened to be right beside Tora, "…ain't that shit all the same thing?"
Most by now had looked down, knowing either, Tora, Fyer, or possibly both would soon snap his head off. Tora was the first to rant on his unawareness, her sigh deep, eyes of intense jade rolling deep in their sockets, "You ass hole, Chinese and Japanese two different countries…"
"You shit head…" the Dragon half-breed could only say this, rage growing like a small flame inside her, knowing repeating Tora might be useless.
Logan rubbed his head in a towel, his hair damp and warm from the cleansing shower. He didn't bother to fix it after the towel drying, it was always in a rather messy state anyway, though sometimes with at least a hint of some class. He let the colorless towel fall over bare, board shoulders, the cloth itself curled behind his neck. Needless to say, no top was presented on his torso, and though old, dusty blue-jeans hugged the contours of his legs, his chest went stripped of anything outside of that towel. Now, done with drying his locks, he calmly turns to the feline half-breed, leaning into her face until she had to hold the ping-pong table with the bottom of her palms, and top of her wrists to keep from tripping right on her tail.
"Get hell out of my face, Logan," Tora growls, but doesn't unleash her fur and tiger face, just simply makes threats and requests.
"Advice, Asian, if you plan to speak to me and continue that attitude, you'll find you won't need your arms and legs… or have them, whatever comes first," he sniffs her, wondering if he could trace the sent of fear, but all he could smell is straight up anger, and a slight strain of something… but it was so light, he dared not put his face deeper to figure it out.
Pushing away, Logan simply snorts at her and makes his way for the room hallways, ready to call it a day for himself. Tora on the other hand, flung upright and bares her gleaming white fangs, snarling in his direction and flexing her fingers out and in.
"I hate that man…"
To be concluded…