Amanda and Illyana, Saturday night

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Illyana and Amanda have an encounter in the kitchen in the late hours of Saturday night. Amazingly, it's entirely civil; they talk about magic, spellbooks, and the Repo demon of last Hallowe'en.


It was late, which was, in Illyana's estimation, the best time of day at the Xavier Institute. It was less aggravating to do things without worrying whether or not people were going to be around. She padded down the hall in her bare feet (she was going to have to get her socks back from Jubilee at some point, Republic of Sockovia or no), intent on a sandwich and a glass of water; yawning, she rounded the corner, and encountered Amanda Sefton sitting there like she was entitled to - well, Illyana supposed she was, technically - drinking a cup of tea. "Oh. Hi," she said, faintly unfriendly, with the vague hope that perhaps Amanda would carry on.

Amanda looked up from the book McCoy had given her, blinking a little in surprise - she hadn't expected anyone to be around. Then again, she was in a public area... "Hey," she said, tone actually not that unwelcoming – she remembered Alison's advice in dealing with Illyana, that being nice would actually throw her off far more than the animosity of before. "Another one for the insomnia club?"

Faint suspicion crossed Illyana's face in the form of slightly narrowed eyes, as though she were trying to figure out Amanda's angle. "Kind of," she said. "I was working, and – I got hungry." She shrugged; glanced down at Amanda's book on her way to the fridge. "Studying?"

"Light readin', actually," Amanda said with a wry grin, lifting the book so Illyana could see the title. "McCoy passed it on, thought it'd be interestin'. He was worried 'bout it bein' old, but it's practically new compared t' most of my books."

Illyana glanced at the title with a faint involuntary smile – she knew exactly what Amanda meant. "I'm still shocked people think anything written before 1700 is old. What is it - fairy tales or something?" she asked, busying herself digging through the cold cuts and vegetables.

"'S a study of magic from the aspect of various religions - the bloke who wrote it was interested in magic as a cultural thing. McCoy gave it to me after the blow-up in me journal. Nice t' read somethin' takin' it seriously that wasn't written by some nutter livin' in a tree or somethin'." Amanda snickered, actually pleased to have someone understanding her, even if it was the Demon Queen of Limbo. "Mind you, in this country three hundred years is old. I think I broke Kitty's brain one day when she realised half me magic books are twice as old as that."

At that, Illyana did smile - just for a moment, so as not to get too friendly. "I think it just depends on what you're used to. I mean, they won't even let you touch anything that old here, like it's valuable or something. I've got loads of old rubbish they could have." She paused thoughtfully. "Well, if they wanted to melt their internal organs or suffer invisible scorpions in uncomfortable places, anyway."

Curiosity probably wasn't the most PC of reactions, but Amanda's was piqued. Now how to ask without it sounding like she was trying to gather evidence against the other girl or something. The smile, brief as it had been, encouraged her. "Funny what you find, tucked in the middle of a perfectly harmless spell book," she said. "I mean, 's not like I'd ever use any of 'em, but there's odd spells that probably aren't the nicest. An' it's not like I can get rid of 'em without tearin' up a book that's been around longer 'n white history in this place."

Illyana nodded coolly, not put off, but on her guard for a surprise attack, so to speak. "Oh, yes," she agreed, declining to mention that much of Belasco's collection - now hers, she supposed, though she preferred not to think of it that way - tended toward the bloodier side of magic. "One minute it's spells for purifying water, the next it's summoning demon spirits and incinerating villagers with the wrath of Hazareth, Devourer of Fear. Er. For example." She cleared her throat. "I mean, it's no use tearing anything out. Better to know how to counter it effectively, anyway."

"Sneaky bugger, spell books," Amanda said with a wry grin. "Um, I meant t' ask. Those gloves I did up for you... they did the trick all right?" she continued almost idly. "It was a load off me mind, knowin' there was someone else workin' on the protection spells. Security's all well an' good, but some things aren't fazed by alarms an' bells an' lasers an' the like."

"Oh - they worked fine." Especially considering she'd nearly melted the tongs and two pairs of tweezers, and the rug had suffered some minor injuries in the process. "Kept me out of blisters long enough to figure out that there were approximately 83 ways for that demon to contravene the laws of magic, anyway, none of which happened to be true, of course. Looked like a touchy bit of spellwork," she added, as close to praise as she was going to get.

"Yeah, well, bindin' it t' Lee was a bloody devious touch." Amanda paused, trying to think of a way to say what she wanted without being mocked. "Um, I meant t' say, only I didn't get the chance, what with one thing an' another... Ah, thanks. For tryin'. You could've just 'ported out of there, with or without the rest, an' left me to it, an' after all the grief I gave you, I wouldn't've blamed you. An' you didn't." She gulped, and blurted out the rest, seeing how she'd come this far, after all. "'M not sayin' we're best mates or anythin', but... you aren't a demon, I know that now. No demon would've done what you did."

Except a demon defending its territory, or a demon with an interest in protecting someone for its own use - well, Illyana didn't have to know the intricacies of social interaction to know it was better not to mention it. "It wasn't about friendship," she said, without inflection, her attention carefully on the fine art of sandwich creation, "but I don't kill. Directly or indirectly. Ever. Mutual personality transplants wouldn't make us - best mates - " (here she rolled her eyes expressively) - "but I wouldn't let a demon kill you. Or anyone else, which was about as likely with that thing trampling the scenery left and right. And for the record, you're right - I'm not a demon." Despite whatever else she was.

"Yeah, well, Asgard showed just how much we'd have t' change t' get along," Amanda said with a wry snort, but she was glad Illyana had listened. "Whatever the reason, 'm glad you didn't. 'Sides, if it had taken me, I would've ended up trespassin' on yer whole 'kidnapped into a demon dimension ' thing an' you would've had to sue me for breach of copywrite or somethin'."

"Legal action would be my first thought," Illyana informed the other girl drily. "Let's just be glad it didn't come to that. Asgard -was- quite enough extra-dimensional hassle last year - even if some people seem to think it was a fabulous life-improving experience." Her deep disdain for those people had not diminished in the least in the interceding nine months.

Amanda grinned. "At least someone 'round here gets the idea of sarcasm. An' yeah, somehow Asgard isn't on me list of must-return-to places. One brainwashin' a year's enough for me. Or havin' it try an' crawl out me nose from power overload - me an' magical realms? Not a good combination." She flipped her book closed and drained the last of her tea. "I should get t' bed. Meggan keeps me busy enough runnin' 'round, I need all the rest I can get t' keep up with her." She surprised Illyana by winking at her. "An' you can have the place t' yourself, like you were after in the first place."

The blonde's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise, then closed firmly, though not without a certain amount of humour. "Thanks," she said airily, leaning back against the counter and, with great strength of will, resisted dismissing Amanda with a wave of a hand, instead turning back to her sandwich with cool indifference.