Cecilia and Illyana, Sunday evening

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Cecilia and Illyana size one another up in the library, and decide that they're acceptable to one another by virtue of their identical levels of snark.


Illyana liked the library. Here, she had begun to notice, it was quiet; nobody was proselytizing the virtues of equal rights, barely anyone had tracked her down to make her talk about anything (except that Dr Strange man), and she could sit for hours undisturbed, flipping through a surprising number of books about Russia. Which was what she was up to now, legs propped up comfortably on a study carrel and her book in her lap. She barely looked up when she heard footsteps, assuring herself that whoever it was would probably ignore her.

It was due to very much the same reasons - albeit with differing specifics - that Cecilia, too, adored libraries. They were quiet, and in schools, they were either 1) vacant, or 2) full of people too busy studying to have any interest in bothering her. So, discovering this library had been quite the bright spot in her day. Already, she had a book tucked under her arm, her attention focused more on the stacks than on the various spots available for sitting in as she quietly made her way along. Look, Yana! Isn't that the new heathen?

Illyana glanced up for a moment, then raised her eyebrows. New person; this might even be a good opportunity to size her up. "Hey," she called, "aren't you the new heathen?"

Damn her luck. Cecilia managed not to grimace in annoyance, drawing in a soothing breath before looking in the direction the voice had come from. Oh, goodie. It's blondie. "Yes, I am the new heathen," she replied, in a humor-her-and-maybe-she'll-go-away tone of voice.

"I would say it's nice to meet you, only I try to avoid putting myself in situations where I might be hurt. It was very -- " fun? Enlightening? Entertaining? -- "interesting to make your aquaintance on the journals, though." She smiled angelically, a move that was probably lost on Cecilia but amused her a great deal. "Sorry if I bored you. I tend to go on a bit."

"Socializing does tend to open one up to talking to idiots," Cecilia agreed sincerely, casting a brief look over her shoulder before returning her attention to Illyana. She eyed the angelic smile for a moment before rolling her eyes, tucking her free hand into a pocket. "Oh, please. You aren't sorry. Lies do not become us."

"Of course I'm not," Illyana agreed cheerfully. "Although lies become me nicely; it's the rest of the world I take issue with. But I have noticed that pretending makes people less inclined to put me in therapy or subject me to pain. I am often forced to socialize with idiots here, since it's supposed to help me adjust -- well, actually, it's mostly just because there's no shortage of them, really."

"Welcome to America," Cecilia replied dryly, though she paused for a moment, and amended herself. "Scratch that. Welcome to Earth. Most people are idiots, and most of those idiots are in positions where you're required to acknowledge their existance."

"I've been getting that idea," Illyana said drily. "Trust me, this place is no exception. And they take offense if you're cleverer, so watch out, lest you ruffle the feathers of the masses."

"More clever," Cecilia corrected absently, flashing a quick grin. "I think I've already ruffled a few feathers. No real skin off my nose. Not here to make friends."

Illyana's mouth dropped in mock astonishment. "Not here to make friends?" she asked incredulously. "But -- but -- we're all supposed to be friends. Being a mutant means you have to like everyone, because if you don't, you're a grouchy, mean, possibly evil mutant who cannot possibly just like her own space devoid of invasive, prying morons." She dropped the act, rolling her eyes. "It's like the Care Bears came and possessed everyone, leaving only a select few to puzzle it out, all the while avoiding hugs and personal questions. Just so you know."

"I've noticed. I met Angelo." Don't sound too depressed about it, now. After a brief glance given to the stacks, Cecilia pursed her lips, looking to Illyana before she gestured questioningly at an empty chair nearby. "I swear. It's like some people think that everyone in a given minority feels a special bond with each other, and will gladly divulge any personal stories to them that they wouldn't to anyone else."

Illyana gestured for Cecilia to sit casually. She liked Cecilia; Cecilia could stay. "Oh, him. How unfortunate. He's friends with our resident murderer, so I try not to pay him any mind," she added, sounding irritated. "But then I'm not someone who appreciates breaking the law just because I can, so perhaps I'm just not cut out to be here, genes notwithstanding."

It was a good thing Cecilia was already near the chair, because she damn near fell into it, her eyebrows rocketing into her hairline. "Resident murderer?" she replied, not bothering to cover her disbelief. "Please tell me you're not serious."

"Entirely," Illyana said, with no little amount of displeasure. "Apparently when someone's done something very horrible to you, the appropriate response is to do it right back to them. This allows you to come back home and plan to finish the rest of it at a more convenient time, while responsible adults fail to call the proper authorities."

"Jesus." Pinching the bridge of her nose, Cecilia closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Calm. Breathe in, hold it, breathe out. Screaming about people being stupid is not to be done. This is a library. Use an inside voice. "'The security has been upgraded heavily since the last time we were attacked,'" she muttered quietly, in as good an approximation of Alison's voice as she could manage - which was, apparently, a great big stereotypical bubbly bimbo. "'Just don't trip over the killer already inside and you'll be just fine!'"

"She stays in the basement mostly," Illyana told her helpfully. "She's sulking because they won't let her near the children unsupervised."

"Gee, imagine that!" Whoops. Inside voice. With a slight grimace, Cecilia quieted herself again, slouching back in her seat and abandoning her book to her lap so her hands were free to massage her temples. "Well, since noone else seems to be in a mood to tell me these things.. is there anything else I should be ranting to the people in charge about?"

"No, I can't think of anything," said Illyana thoughtfully. "Although if you convince them to fix our 'harbouring an unrepentant murderer' situation you will have accomplished quite a lot. Sadly, they don't seem to be much for fixing it -- which is a pity, since it's not the most productive way to go about the whole mutant rights business, if you're into going about it at all."

Cecilia nodded in agreement, rolling her eyes. "I don't suppose anyone has tried pointing that out to someone yet?"

"I don't like to, on account of nobody listening to me because I used to be seven," she said airily. "And nobody else can be bothered in any substantial way, that I've seen."

"Everyone was seven once," Cecilia replied, waving a hand dismissively. "You clearly aren't anymore. And if noone can be bothered.. well, tough cookies. I'm going to bother them." She nodded once, setting her jaw. "I'll start with Blaire. Already met her, and washed-up pop stars have higher IQs than washed-up models and millionaire playboys."

Illyana smiled; finally, someone with some sense. "Stay away from the millionaire playboy. He doesn't like it when people are damaging and mean, which seems to amount to making sure a stupid person knows they are stupid." She didn't mention Piotr -- no need, really.

"Care Bears," Cecilia replied solemnly, with a sigh. This was going to be fun. "If people around here have a problem with being told when they're being idiots, I guess I have one thing to look forward to.. they probably won't be bothering me more than once."

Illyana snorted. "They'll be bothering you as much as humanly possible, trying to get you to see the harmony of all living mutants and cuddly animals and flowers and such. Behold the glory of the journals: They can annoy you electronically, plus they know where you live."

It was Cecilia's turn to snort. "They're welcome to talk and type themselves right out. No law says I have to give a damn what they have to say."

"If you get annoyed with the chatter," Illyana said, immensely pleased by the new arrival, "I suggest ear plugs. You can threaten violence, but then they whine and moan about their civil liberties or something. Projectiles tend to work."

"I have headphones and a small stack of CDs. Will that work?" Cecilia smiled wryly, shaking her head a bit. "Threats of violence from me are generally a very empty threat. Doctors take this oath, and since I'm intending on becoming one, I tend to operate by its rules. Ideally, the only time I'll physically hurt someone is when their unfortunate ass comes to me for a tetanus shot."

Illyana made a mental note to look up 'tetanus shot' in the dictionary later, and smiled. "Music works. If you can distract them with something, all the better -- try throwing something shiny out the window. Most of them are very simple creatures."

"Typical Earthlings, then," Cecilia nodded, propping her chin up in a hand. "If they get too irritating, I'll dig out my medical textbooks and flip to the nice, detailed illustrations of a typical human's innards, and invite them out for sushi while I explain how the colon works. That might work."

"Inventive," Illyana said, with a brief grin. "I think you'll survive them."

Cecilia grinned cheerfully, inclining her head in silent thanks. "Surviving is the goal."

"It's certainly mine," Illyana said. "At least until I hit the age of majority and go out to live with real people, not a house full of idiots."

"Surviving is still the goal," Cecilia replied with a shake of her head. "You go from a house full of idiots to a workplace, city, planet full of idiots. There are just more places to hunker down and wait for them to go away out there."

"That's not very promising." She looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I'll be a hermit."

"I'm told Connecticut is very sparse," Cecilia suggested helpfully.

"Siberia is, too." Illyana nodded. "That's where I'm from. Originally. Back in the day. Not that I want to hang around a bunch of Russian peasants all my life, but maybe I'll have two residences. Or a trick address to send people to if I don't like them."

"Hell, give people an address in Siberia whether you have a place there or not," Cecilia snorted. "I'd pay good money to send someone who annoys me out there."

"It is an ordeal not sending them there when they annoy me," Illyana said longsufferingly. "One of the trials of being a teleporter, I suppose."

Cecilia couldn't help but blink, regarding the younger woman curiously. "What, do you have that kind of range?" She paused a moment, grimacing and waving her hands dismissively. "Nevermind. Breaking my own rules about prying. Bad Cecilia."

"It's all right," Illyana said easily. "Yes, actually, I do. I haven't tested it much here, but it worked well enough in Limbo over long distances."

Don't ask. Don't break your own rules. "Limbo?" Damn! At least her interest seemed to be mostly clinical, rather than personal - sure, Illyana seemed to be an intelligent girl, but still. "Tell me to shut up anytime. I'm being very bad, here."

"Public domain," Illyana shrugged. "Alternate demon dimension. Hellfire, brimstone, the usual. I grew up there, much to my dismay. And everyone else's, although they show their concern mostly by accusing me of not caring about them anymore."

"Ah, the demon dimension," Cecilia replied, nodding sagely. It had a name. Note to self. "Well, if it's anything like the Hell I've been taught about.. caring about people is the last thing on your mind when you're there. Just my thoughts."

"Mostly not getting killed was on my mind," Illyana said casually. "Demon dimensions are like that. Of course, according to some people, I was supposed to maintain my childlike innocence, but they're the ones I warned you about."

"Colons and sushi," Cecilia nodded, idly massaging her temples. "If you ever want to have a new way to chase them off, I can write down a nice, graphic description of how the organ of your choice works in easy-to-memorize form."

Illyana practically beamed. "I don't know why, but for some reason my stunning good looks don't compensate for how very terribly I treat most of them. They mostly leave me alone now." Emphasis on 'mostly', but a girl took what she could get.