2012-09-28 Secrets at the Circus

Evening over the big-top. The Greatest Show on Earth is in full swing, or at least a shadow of the Ringling Brothers/Barnum and Bailey.. in the form of Haly's Circus. While not as grand, or at least not as good a PR department, it does still have a great deal to offer. Animal acts, acrobats upon the highwire and trapeze artists.. and of course, the clowns.
There are many, many families present, small children being taken by the hand to pull away from one amazing sight to the next, other children crying as they stand in line for elephant rides.. and even more waiting for cotton candy and ice cream.
The shadows, then, gives Kurt a little more privacy as he walks through the crowds, keeping towards the darker areas. He's got a fedora on, and a light jacket, his tail tucked discretely away. Yellow eyes look out upon the sights with mixed emotions that play upon the blue, fuzzy face. Memories, both good and bad, are recalled, and familiarity means he knows the areas in which to search for mutants. He pauses at a tent, and lifts a flap, considering, possibly, that he'll be ducking in before too long. Not without a furtive glance around, just to be sure he's not seen.
To some, life is one great mystery. To others, one in particular, mystery is all which life is given. The world is full of oysters waiting to be gathered, ripened fruit waiting to be devoured, special moments to be treasured, and masses of people to be exploited. This evening there is a woman amongst the crowd, looking like the personal assistant sort that just got through a long day at the office. Business attire, smart heels, blonde hair drawn back into a professional bun, and thin rectangular framed glasses to promote that air of authority. She hasn't said a word since arriving to the circus, blue eyes tirelessly scanning the crowd, searching... She had picked up on a rumor, that hundreds of miles distant tie that she still had with a very select few souls upon this planet that she could never fully cast aside no matter what her feelings are toward the situation. Her leads led her here, and she knows what to look for.
There will be another shadowy sort, traveling alone. Avoiding the crowds and people as a whole. Looking for dark, quiet places to lurk, to explore. A silhouette of a man more than a man, directly. It took some doing but eventually she found this figure, still keeping her distance yet continuing to close the gap between them. Part of her already dreads what's coming next. The other part questions why she hasn't done this sooner.
Later, to look back on it all, it wouldn't surprise him in the least if he was told that this was simply a 'set-up', but any who know the fuzzy elf, it's a place that has its own siren song. The simple fact the circus exists means that he comes; run it and Kurt will come. And so, with the three-fingered hand upon the flap, he slides into the darkened tent, the flap closing behind him. Silence comes from within; apparently he's picked one that isn't manned at the moment?
Within, Kurt doesn't bother walking, but rather does a quick *bamf* across the room, leaving behind a tell-tale trail of sulfur smell, to get to a desk. Perching rather than sitting at the chair, Kurt begins to go through the desk drawer by drawer, searching for.. something. Anything that might give him the complement of workers..
There it is. That faint sound, the subtle but pungent scent that's upon the air then gone a moment after. There's a peculiar tugging of the heart strings which follows, the lone woman knowing that she's found the right one and is close to him now, closer than she has been in quite some time. Opportunity waits for no woman, likewise glancing about the area before she follows through into the tent beyond. He's in here, he's --on the other side.
"Still lurking in the shadows, I see." The voice is pitched lower, almost carrying a sense of menace upon its commanding tone. That much isn't strictly part of her costume, hitting closer to her usual manner of speaking. For the moment no effort is made to step closer, choosing instead to make her presence known from a distance. Teleporters could be jumpy, the goal isn't to give you reason to flee. "At least your pursuit is worthwhile." Why else would you keep coming back to these places, if not for the memories? Memories don't come from the files tucked away within a desk. She knows what the pursuit of knowledge looks like when she sees it.
Kurt looks up at the sound of the flap of the tent, and she's not far off.. he is jumpy. The moment she speaks, he's ready to move, but there's nowhere to go but out.. nothing to perch on. "I will not hurt you, fraulein.." comes softly, for all he sees before him is the blonde Personal Assistant, with blue eyes and glasses. "My pursuit.." Now, he's curious, and pupil-less yellow eyes look around the room, waiting for that shoe to drop, knowing it will. "Do you know of mutants working here?" His accent is decidedly German, the harsher vowels only softened in the fact that his tones are low in the dark.
It's just the two of them in this tent, now. No one to interfere, no one to cause unwanted attention during her moment. Without appearing to move a muscle the businesswoman's persona flickers out of existence, erased without a sliver of evidence. Standing in her place, same stance, height, and dimensions, is the form of a blue-skinned woman with those peculiar yellow eyes that pierce through the shadows, identical to your own. "Only of two," she admits. The part about not hurting her she doesn't press, despite a less than stable history between the two she isn't here to fight. But, everyone chooses their own side to stand on. Yours and hers may not be one and the same. Chances are they're anything but.
Mystique starts to step closer now, left as natural and pure within her mutant form as can be. The matte black attire isn't for modesty so much as for your own comfort level, a small detail that she grants. "Old habits die hard, Nightcrawler. If you aren't careful someone else will use this against you." She found you, why couldn't someone else?
The shifting of light, of perception, and the form before him changes.. and she takes the form of, well.. something very much like him. This brings him from the chair, his attention fully upon her now. As if it wasn't before? "Wer bist du?" //Who are you?// is whispered, and he looks.. puzzled and he shakes his head. "How do you know me?" As for how anyone could find him, like a moth to a candle's flame, that's not overly difficult. "I do not work for the circus anymore." He'd used the moniker in Bavaria, and perhaps that is how she knows him? "Und I am not going back. Now, I'm looking for others.."
Sometimes one has to step forth and make the effort in order to make something happen. This timid mutant before her is more than related by species and by blood. What she sees here is potential, simply waiting to be unleashed upon the world. So much could be accomplished, but first... First it comes down to this. Mystique wants a closer look, and she's not looking very afraid to get one. "You may know me as Mystique," she replies, less of a 'you may have heard of me' sort and more of a 'you're allowed to use this title.'
"There's a great deal that I know, as could you." As far as going back to this line of work, she has to chuckle. As with her words the tone is low, almost sinister in presentation. "No. You're not. Unlike those that run these shows, those who find enjoyment in putting us on display like twisted paintings, I wish for so much more for you. Dear Nightcrawler, you have such talent. Why do you use it to lurk? It is not you whom should be afraid." If she's able to, if either you'd allow it or she manages to captivate you so well that you don't try to distance yourself from her, she would reach out to remove that hat from your head.
"Mystique," he repeats. It's not as if he's familiar with all mutants, but.. "Is that your true form?" Now, curiousity does come over him, and with her approach, Kurt, too, approaches. Carefully. There is still something that doesn't feel //right// about all this, and there's the ever present feeling that //something// will happen. He stands straight, his head canted, yellow eyes watching her carefully.
"I am here to look for more mutants, to be sure they are not being taken advantage of.." and it's matter-of-fact.. the sound of confidence runs through the background. "With the registration laws being threatened, they should have a way to leave if needed." If there was any question there, the fuzzy elf isn't going to stand to be DNA-typed. At her approach, and the removal of his hat, the fedora hides the deep blue-black colour of his hair, cut short, and the pointed elfin ears.. and the blue is actually blue fur.. the fuzzy elf. The blue demon with the yellow eyes. "I lurk, Fraulein," and he uses her word, "because it is what I wish to do. For now, it suits me." The last words are given with a touch of a smile, the hints of sharpened teeth, though it's not an aggressive or threatening gesture. He's.. actually smiling, even though he's confused as all.. hell.
It's funny sometimes, how after running through a situation hundreds of times within her own thoughts that the reality of the moment would turn out as something ..better. Much better, if she isn't too hasty in drawing such a conclusion. Mystique had lost track of how many years it had been since having last seen you with her own eyes. The growth of that indigo fur, the taper of those pointed ears. She really did create something special with you. One of us. One of mutantkind. When you ask about her true form she decides to reveal it without interruption, the clothing flickering away to reveal a base of reptilian-like scales that act as a natural barrier upon key areas where others are left appearing as nothing more than blue-tinted flesh. She doesn't seem embarrassed by the truth, if anything she seems wholly confident with it. Here stands a mutant with nothing to hide. One which is as interested in your peculiar appearance as you seem to be of her own.
Your reasoning for being here, that really kindles the spark within Mystique's mind. The smile is returned, somewhat more distant but at least appearing genuine enough given the intense look the rest of her carries. "As I have said, you pursue a worthy goal. One which is shared. You aren't alone in the world, there are many more like us and many which share this passion to help our own kind. You don't have to fight this on your own." It's the truth, but there's always more to it than stating the facts.
Kurt watches the shift a second time, though this time, he's up close and personal, yellow eyes widening. "Mein Gott," is whispered, and he shakes his head. Does he believe that this is her true form? Eeeeh.. there's some doubt that lingers, but again, he whispers, "Who are you?" He reaches out to touch her face, but his hand stops before any contact could possibly be made. He lowers it again, letting it fall after it reaches the half-way point.
He shakes his head, not worried about the loss of his fedora. "I am not alone. I have friends who believe as I do.." And the church. "It is part of why I am here.. If they wish to leave, I will help them do it peacefully. With no trouble."
'Without trouble.' Mystique's concerns have been made real, though any disappointment that she feels over it is expertly hidden within that expression, almost friendly yet stoic at once. "A mutant, like yourself," she vaguely answers your question. "One who shares your concerns and doesn't believe in having to register our differences for the rest." The rest of..the world? Society? Her tone doesn't sound like it holds a high opinion of it, whatever 'the rest' happens to be.
The fedora is offered back to you without a word, though until you fully conceal yourself again she's going to admire that evolutionary perfection standing in front of her. She can still salvage this moment, still draw things within her favor. "There exist places where such a choice is not being offered," she starts in. All it takes is the right strings to tug at. "Places where we are brought or lured into, where we come to find all of our freedoms have been taken from us. Places where peaceful solutions cannot exist, where freedom isn't a matter of choice. Some of our kind needs help, more than those listed as attractions at the circus. Some of us need to be -freed,- Nightcrawler. Follow your own path, but know what is happening to our kind. Their lives could benefit from one such as you. This is something which you could be a part of."
"Do you really look like that?" Kurt takes a deep breath, and when his hat is handed back, he looks down at his hand as he retrieves it. "I have seen what you say, fraulein," he begins again, and his tones sound.. hurt. There's an ache therein, and his head still hangs. His head shakes, "And still, I cannot believe in anything but peace." He looks up, and if he sounds sure of anything, it is what he says. "We cannot be like them.. ever. It is our moral obligation.. to show them that they can live with us. And that there is no need to fear." It may sound a bit odd, coming from a man who looks like the spawn of hell.
Kurt doesn't put his hat on, but instead plays with it in his hands, and it's back to the questions, the personal questions. "I have only met one who has ever looked like me before. And she was my daughter from a different.. dimension." Blue skin, tail, fingers, but she couldn't teleport. "No others until I see you before me."
"Yes," Mystique finally admits. But, it can never be that easy, can it? Once more her skin flickers, her features change, and she looks like someone completely different. The weatherman from Channel Six News. "And this." Another shift and she's that lady with the infectious smile and nametag on the insurance commercials, her smile intact. Another shift, this one the brunette that was selling cotton candy at the booth not fifty feet away from this tent. Then one more shift, one that you would know better than any other. She turns herself into you, complete with the voice. "And you."
A daughter... This part she hadn't been aware of before. It's a subject demanding of more research, but it can wait. "Wir kamen alle von irgendwoher," is said with that usual layer of secrecy, spoken in your copied voice. 'We all came from somewhere.'
There's a moment when there's something that flickers in those yellow eyes, and.. it's dashed when Mystique begins the shifting from one person to another. His face falls, his shoulders slouch.. and if it weren't for the fact that he's got a long coat, the drooping of his tail could be seen. As it is, the tip of it hangs below the coat, a spade at the end of a prehensile tail. "Aufhoren-sie.." //Stop it!//
Now, Kurt turns about quickly and stalks back towards the desk for those final searches. There isn't anything in there that can even begin to tell him what he wants to know, and it's a frustrated elf now that slams the drawer. "I know where I come from," he begins, and makes to perch on the desk. "Und I have no desire to go back to hell." He's ready to depart, and he looks at Mystique, seeing only his own eyes as they stare back at him.. until the next time she? he? changes.
"Why did you look for me?"
She's more than made her point, when the request is given she shifts back to that businesswoman guise from before. Prim, proper, professional. For being a faux role she seems to wear it well, removing the glasses from her face to tuck them onto the top of her head with a familiar motion. As if she had done it a thousand times before. Now her eyes can continue to study you directly, without anything getting in the way. It's not like she needed the eye correction, anyway.
"You did not come from hell," she states in the same borrowed voice as before, sounding ..irritated. Maybe even a little angry. "Nor will you have to endure such a place. You will see, in time."
Your last question goes unanswered. Instead, Mystique leaves you with something else to consider before she disappears back out into the evening crowd. "This I promise you. Mein sohn."
That last shift back to the Personal Assistant, the form in which she'd first addressed him brings him forward again, yellow eyes locked on her face. He's trying to see through it, any hint, any chink in the perfection of her change of shape that might hint at the fact that the current one may be the 'real' Mystique, or one of the others.. or.. and he looks almost like a kicked puppy. He's no telepath, he's got nothing that could even remotely help him in this.
Kurt can hear the irritation and near anger in those tones. He's touched a nerve? He's come to terms with his appearance, and his soul, but he has to admit that the words that came from him were born of frustration. Lashing out, and there was a target before him. Her parting words, however, as she pulls back the tarp and disappears into the crowd brings him forward with a *bamf*, the sound of atmosphere rapidly filling a void, and to have him reappear just inside the flap, looking out. "What?" //Sohn//?
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