strangetrip | [For Parker, Parker (Not a Typo), and Illyana] Bothering Ms. Rasputin

Entry tags:

[For Parker, Parker (Not a Typo), and Illyana] Bothering Ms. Rasputin

It wasn't precisely that Illyana could not or would not provide mentorship. She'd been instructed by enough of the X-men that she had seen it done. She had willingly collaborated, and on occasion, even encouraged. She knew what it felt like to bond with a team or an individual, and the greater accomplishments to be had as a result. (Things were progressing Acceptably with Corbie.)

But there was a certain rather enthusiastic type of student that generally required more patience than she was inclined to practice. Piotr found them inspiring. Kitty found them amusing. Illyana did not find them, generally speaking. They found her.

Such was the case with Peter's unscheduled delivery, after which she placed a succinct call to inform Parker that he ought to meet with her in the library at once if he intended to discuss the book he needed to return. She would also be available to instruct him on the correct donation procedure.

The other Parker, as it happened, was an entirely coincidental arrival.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ms. Rasputin called him.

She called him.

This was probably one of the most surprising things that happened to him in recent history, which was really saying something considering everything he'd done back on the space station before the portal closed. He didn't expect any acknowledgement from her whatsoever, let alone a phone call. This was basically on-par with Happy actually answering one of his calls, and Peter was sure there was never going to be anything more satisfying than that.

It takes him only a half-minute to process all this, and another half-minute for him to bound down the hallway and ten seconds him to jump down the entire length of the stairs in a single leap and land with all the grace and power of a professional gymnast.

All-in-all, it takes 4 -- no, 3 minutes by Peter's estimation -- for him to reach the library. Peter takes a breath at the door, then pushes them open.

Okay, Peter. You can do this. Try and look cool and capable. Like Ms. Rasputin.

Peter takes a second breath, pushes the door open and steps in. "Hey, Ms. Rasputin," he greets her, as he saunters inside. "I, uh, I got your phone call and thought I'd come down."

He holds up his book, as if in reminder. As if they had not just had a phone conversation four minutes ago and she might have forgotten.

You encouraged him by actively acknowledging his existence, Illyana reminded herself soberly.

"Yes. I seem to recall." She similarly reached for his note, holding it up to remind him that she was well aware of his enthusiasm and the reason that he said he wanted to meet with her.

She replaced the note on the counter of the circulation desk, then laid a hand possessively over the stack of books he had left with it. "Thank you for your contribution to the library inventory. In the future, you will meet with one of the library staff directly for proper intake procedures if possible."

"It wasn't possible," Peter says. "I mean, nobody was here. If nobody's here, should I like, just wait until somebody is here?"

Peter's clearly hoping to get the details down correctly, because he doesn't want to screw this up next time. Even though there was really no telling when that next time would come.

"So how do I return my book?" he asks. "Can I just... leave it over there?"

He gestures to the same desk where he left his donation.

"I made an allowance for the staff being unavailable already," she pointed out as to the first item bluntly, though what was strictly within the realm of possibility was a larger battle than she cared to wage on such a petty sticking point. "Your leaving the books was better than the library not receiving any books at all, but you might have been able to provide us with more comprehensive information about what they are and where you obtained them if you spoke to an attendant directly."

"Do you -- do you want to know more about where I got it?"

And before Ms. Rasputin can say anything to the affirmative, the words are pouring out of Peter.

"I found two of them -- the one on FTL and the one on time dilation in this weird little thrift shop in the kinda seedy part of town. This weird fish-person was the one who sold it to me, and they didn't seem to really know much about it when I asked."

And Peter did ask.

"The three novels, I got them from this regular bookstore near where the portal let out. I read the back covers, and none of them really seemed like the kind of thing I'd like to read, but I thought someone might enjoy it, and they were also on sale, buy 1, get 2 free. The lady at the front desk told me that it was a really popular series a few years ago, but the bookstore overstocked and now they have a bunch of excess copies that no one will buy because they already bought it."

And lastly--

"I found the cookbook in the trash. I wasn't like, looking for books in the trash, but I was trying to find some busted tech in the dumpster outside this tech shop and I just found it while I was in there." A beat. "I don't know what a cookbook was doing in their dumpster though."

That... was kinda weird.

She stopped. And stared. She watched him as others might watch a trainwreck.

"Parker," she told him once he'd spent himself. "Before you say anything more to me, I want you to stop yourself and draw a breath to focus on the single most important piece of information that you mean to tell me, or a single question that you mean to ask. Express to me that single item. And then stop until I have a moment to react or respond. If you understand, demonstrate that understanding to me now."

"Yes," Peter says, and he's about to say something more, but before he can actually push the words forward, he suddenly clamps his mouth shut. He looks at Ms. Rasputin the same way he looks at Mr. Stark, hopeful for approval.

She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. And waited. One...two...

Her brows relaxed.

"Returns are accepted-" She moved to the far side of the circulation desk to tap an empty desk tray with a RETURNS sign affixed to the front. "Here. I will make notations about the provenance of the books you've provided in the daily log."

Peter neatly deposits the book into the tray, then looks over at Ms. Rasputin with that same is-this-okay? look that he gave her before.

"Um," he begins, letting the word hang uncertainly there for moment. "Is there... anything I can do to help?"

"Your note indicated that you wanted to talk." She slid open one of the large ledger books atop the circulation desk to mark down the details regarding the new entries. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter says, as if just remembering that he had scribed this down.

"Uh, nothing," he continues. "I mean, nothing in particular. I just thought--"

He swallows, before he finally completes his sentence: "I just thought we could talk." A beat. "About stuff."

And it's only after the words have left his mouth that Peter wants to facepalm. So much for looking cool. Ms. Rasputin probably just thought he was an awkward dork. And Peter was pretty sure she'd be right.

"We could, in fact, talk about 'stuff.'" She might have added a sharper barb to the remark, but stayed herself, though her hand continued intently at writing what needed recording.

"Kitty seems fond of you," Illyana spoke after a moment. "I'm trying to determine why."

"I'm not sure either," Peter admits. "But, uh, maybe it'd help to -- to tell you about myself."

Peter swallows. There's no telling how Ms. Rasputin's going to take this.

"I'm Peter Parker. I'm fifteen years old, but I'm going to be sixteen at the end of the month, if you're calculating twelve months from my last birthday. Normally my birthday's June 30th, but the date I came here didn't really line up with the date here."

He could say more, but he figures it might be a good idea to stop there. He looks over at Ms. Rasputin pensively. "What about you?" he asks, wondering if he can somehow get away with more than two questions.

"Time, space, and age are all malleable concepts," she told him without looking up from the ledger. "Particularly in regards to inter-planar transportation. When I was a child, I briefly disappeared from my family home by all Earthly accounts. When I re-appeared, I seemed to have aged by ten years."

Two questions isn't enough, Peter tells himself, because he has about a billion questions he wants to ask right now. Instead he just asks two:

"Did you, like -- actually live those ten years, or did you just age? Or was this like, a Big thing, minus the electronic fortune teller?"

"I lived them," was her answer, though it was hardly a complete answer. "But consider - in Limbo, where time and space can be manipulated to suit the whims of a demon mage possessing enough power, what does 'ten years' mean? What does ten years feel like?"

They were, apparently, rhetorical questions.

"...And I have no idea what an electronic fortune teller has to do with anything. You will have to draw some of your own conclusions."

Peter doesn't say anything for awhile, considering this. He can't imagine not really being there for ten years. It was like Ms. Rasputin had been put into some sort of magic coma.

"How, how did you feel later? I mean, about all of that? I mean, yeah, maybe ten years doesn't really feel like anything to you when you're in a magic demon coma. But that's ten years you're never gonna have. That are like, gone from your life. Don't you feel anything about that?"

She finished her writing, and looked back up at him impassively. "I was not a comatose vegetable for ten years, Parker. Limbo is its own world. I was removed from one plane, existed on another, and then returned. That time was not 'gone from my life.' I lived a different life entirely."

Okay, this is confusing.

"Whose life did you live? Was it your life or someone else's? If it was your life, was it like, another life? Were you just another Ms. Rasputin, just in another reality, kind of like there's multiple Peters in multiple timelines? And if you were someone else, who were you?"

It's only after the surge of questions have left his mouth that Peter realizes he stopped listening to Kitty's advice.

Her cold eyes narrowed at him with pointed warning. Illyana had not forgotten the instructions that she herself had given him earlier, though it seemed Parker had. She refused to join him in chasing his conversational tail all day.

"I'm not speculating on theory. I'm telling you my own experiences, in my own words. If you can't come to an understanding about what those words mean, so be it, but I am not a puzzle or a guessing game for you to play when you are bored, whelp." And people wondered why she wasn't inclined to share.

If Peter is at all bothered about being called a whelp or by Ms. Rasputin's piercing gaze, it doesn't register on his face.

"If people don't understand you, how are they gonna understand unless you explain it to them?" Peter asks. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it, but you just got to tell me that."

"I made an attempt. And I am done attempting for now. Particularly with you." She turned away from him entirely to attend the spellwork required to add the new items into the greater library catalog. "Leave, Parker. I will not tell you a second time."

Peter presses his lips together. "I still need to pick out another book," he says after a moment. "Are you still going to make me leave?"

"If that was your priority, you should've planned accordingly. You can return at a later date, preferably when I'm not working. And yes - I am."

Illyana didn't even need to look up from the books to do it. She simply focused on Peter and pushed with the energy of the wards. The magic materialized in the air to become a set of illuminated glyphs that activated immediately to evict the intruder. She didn't push the wards so fast that she expected to throw him from his feet, but neither did she hesitate to put the full force into the magical shove that would deposit him across the threshold on the other side of the open doors.

Peter can feel Ms. Rasputin pushing him out of the library with whatever magic or ability she has. He's pretty sure she didn't intend to, but she'd already answered one of the very first questions he asked: what kind of powers she had.

Peter presses his lips together, remembering what Kitty told him.

"See you later, then," he says. And with a small wave from the other side of the door, he walks down the hallway, and back to his room.

Liz had tried to find a book on Russian in the small library in the hotel and learn it on her own, but there wasn't any and the whole point was to surprise Piotr so she couldn't exactly ask him.

She walked into the library and first took a look at the books in case, maybe, there was a new book on the Russian language. There wasn't - she hadn't expected there to be - and so Liz found herself walking up to the woman behind the desk.

"Um. Excuse me? Are you Illyana?"

She'd seen the girl in the library before, and Kitty had pointed her out with a little smile after the dating advice incident, but they hadn't been formally introduced.

"I am," the petite, athletic woman confirmed as she turned to face the front of the circulation desk. Her blonde hair hung long down her back, a fringe of bangs over icy blue eyes that evaluated the girl briskly. "And you are Liz Parker."

That surprised her more than it should have, but she knew it made sense since the inn was a relatively small place and it wasn't like she was hiding who she was.

"Um... yes, I am. It's nice to meet you." Liz offered her a smile, polite and much like the ones she gave teachers or patrons to her parents' diner.

"I was wondering if I might ask something of you, if you're not too busy?" There weren't a lot of people in the library, but it was polite to ask.

"Reserve your judgment until after you've finished meeting me," Illyana advised. Her impassive expression didn't actually change, but she'd amused herself regardless.

"If it's regarding the other Parker, you've just missed him." Besides which, dating tips were much more Kitty's domain.

It took Liz a second to figure out who she was talking about and despite herself, Liz flushed a little and even looked to the door like maybe she'd see Peter leaving. She didn't, of course.

Turning back to Illyana, Liz shook her head. "No, actually. This is - I was hoping you might be willing to teach me some Russian? Um. pozhaluysta." She had been practicing, but there was an accent and not as clear as the word 'please' in Russian should have sounded.

They wouldn't even have to change their last names, Illyana was reminded of Kitty's rib-straining mirth at the girl's flush and glance about.

Illyana arched an eyebrow at the attempt that had been made. "Elongate the middle a sound," she corrected. "And be aware that пожалуйста," she brandished the word distinctly, "implies both polite request and gratitude."

Liz tried repeating the word, this time elongating the middle sound and it came out better, though still as someone who spoke English as their first language. She smiled, recognizing that it sounded better.

"So - would you be alright if I asked for some lessons?" Because she hadn't said yes or no, exactly, but she had offered help with her inital word.

The blonde tipped her head slightly, giving her a more intense stare. "That depends on why you want to learn Russian, of all languages. We don't have many Russian teaching materials here as of yet." And it was hardly the most obvious choice for someone such as Liz, who appeared to be modern and American in the contemporary sense.

"Oh, um. Well.. I was hoping to maybe learn some Russian to surprise someone. Piotr, actually." Some how the flush on her cheeks grew, but she didn't know why. Maybe she was worried it sounded incredibly stupid.

"Of course you are." The words were hard and flat. "He has been instructing you on the subject of art, hasn't he?"

Edited 2018-03-12 19:13 (UTC)

She paused. Did she say something wrong or was this just her misinterpreting something because Illyana was Russian?

"Yeah, he is. I'm not very good, but I'm trying." She offered another smile.

She had said something wrong in a sense. But it wasn't her fault, Illyana recognized. Parker probably had no idea what it might mean to Piotr, to have a sweet, pretty, pleasant younger student who spoke Russian and so blatantly sought his approval.

"Has he given you a Russian nickname yet? He is partial to those."

He opened her mouth, then paused, which probably told Illyana 'yes' before she even spoke. Somehow Liz wasn't sure how to answer that, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to lie.

"um. Yes, I guess he has..." Liz liked it.

"I'm sure it's charming. And not very creative," Illyana determined when Parker hesitated. But she didn't ask what that name was.

She leaned forward and placed her hands flat on the desk instead, bracing herself. "Why don't you begin by telling me something specific that you'd like to learn? Starting with a concise word or familiar phrase can be good incentive to do the work of learning an entire language."

Liz had thought about phrases she thought would be good to learn first.

"I was thinking... Maybe 'how are you' and the various responses to that. And work on the enouciation of please and thank you.... If you think that's a good idea?"

Liz wasn't even sure if Illyana was agreeing to teach her. Something was definitely up between her and Piotr though.

Liz couldn't know if Illyana had decided to teach her yet because Illyana herself hadn't decided. She hadn't decided yet if she ought to be offended by the request, and if so, what the appropriate punishment was. The girl herself was frustratingly innocuous.

She exhaled a heavy breath. "That depends. Are you truly interested in learning Russian for yourself, or is it only for Piotr's benefit? I don't waste my time with half-hearted students, and there are easier ways to ingratiate yourself to your art teacher."

Liz felt a bit defensive and her expression hardened just a little but still in the realm of polite. "Can't it be both?" She paused. "I don't want to learn it just so Piotr will like me. It's not that... I want to learn so he doesn't feel as - as lonely. But learning a new language will also help me get into Harvard which is the college I want to go to after high school. And.. and knowing new languages here can help me talk to other people if they can't speak English well."

Piotr would feel less lonely if he wasn't such an idiot, Illyana allowed herself the thought. But she did not say as much aloud.

Nor did she point out that the odds were decidedly set against Parker ever attending Harvard.

She just eased herself back upright, into the correct posture that had become natural to her, and rested a hand at her hip. "Make your own reasons your motivation," Illyana advised. "I don't especially care what they are, so long as you prove a good student. And I'll be teaching you Moscow Russian. Don't pick up the touch of backwater Siberia in Piotr's dialect."

It was her native dialect, too. But that was beside the point, and Illyana wouldn't be sloppy about her instruction.

The stubbornness in Liz mounted and she nodded. She was now going to work hard to impress her because she wanted to show how capable she was.

"I'll do whatever lessons you ask of me. I work hard and if you don't think I'm doing a good job then I'll stop being your student and I won't bring it up again."

"Don't tell me," Illyana prompted curtly. "Show me. Prove yourself. Based on your rudimentary knowledge, how do you think you should thank your Russian teacher?"

She lifted her chin and gave the girl a demanding look. Parker would know how to answer if she'd bothered to pay attention earlier.

Liz paused and had to think for a minute. It was probably obvious she was making some connections in her head.

"...пожалуйста" she worked hard to enouciate it even better. She almost had it down this time, but her accent was still hindering it a bit.

Illyana inclined her head in acknowledgment. It wasn't right. But the girl looked as if she recognized that herself.

"I'll put together a basic lesson plan and produce some study materials." Which would likely amount to her and Kitty sitting down with a bottle of wine and trading stories about the Parkers. "We can fix your atrocious accent. But there is no cure for stupid."

Liz nodded. "Okay, thank you. Thank you very much."

She paused, hovering there for only a split second longer. "Have a good day."

And then she made a b line for the door before Illyana could change her mind.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[For Parker, Parker (Not a Typo), and Illyana] Bothering Ms. Rasputin

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject