What Is Normal Anyway?

[tingrin]

Piotr "Peter" Nikolaievitch Rasputin sat quietly in the conservatory of the mansion, his sketchbook on his lap, a pencil presently in the corner of his mouth as he considered what to draw next. After several minutes thought, the pencil took its rightful place in his hand and flew across the page.

When he'd finished there was a remarkable likeness in charicature of Bobby Drake headbutting the group's one-time friend John Allerdyce full on in the face. It was an oddly satisfying image and one that he knew Bobby would appreciate. After all, he certainly had no problem telling the story over and over.

"The Iceman Cometh," declared Peter, naming his creation.

He'd spent many of his days since returning from the battle at Alcatraz in the conservatory. It was a peaceful, quiet sort of place and Peter, who was still a Russian farmboy at heart enjoyed the sanctuary it offered him. It let him work through his personal grief at the death of Professor Xavier and Scott Summers, on whom he'd practically doted in his own way.

His own way generally manifested as drawings and paintings, but he had noticed that he was nowhere near so prolific as he had been a few weeks ago. This was a good sign; this meant that his sad mood was lifting.

He set aside the sketchbook and reached for the pad of writing paper.

Dearest Illyana, he wrote - in English. His sister had insisted, saying that it helped with her learning of the language. It has been a week since last I wrote to you and I trust that this letter finds you in good health as I am myself. I have enclosed a newspaper cutting from this week's paper which contains an article on the school where I am studying here in America.

Peter chewed the end of the pen thoughtfully.

I still have days when I am amazed by how very different it is living in America to the days when I lived with you and our parents on the farm. There are so few very wide open spaces and very little greenery. Sometimes I miss the farm, but there are compensations, such as television and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Peter had quickly become a television fiend. The collective where he had grown up had not had access to such technology and he'd been thrilled with the concept.

He'd also discovered that he had quite a sweet tooth.

I have also enclosed something special for you to share with mother and father; several packets of Oreo cookies. They are most delicious and, Bobby tells me, exactly the sort of healthy snack that forms the basis of the everyday American child's life. You can imagine you are here with me when you eat them.

I miss you very much, little Illyana Nikailovna, but I hope to take an opportunity to come and visit you very soon. In the meantime, take the very best of care of yourself and promise to keep smiling.

Your brother,

Kolya

His letter thus completed, Peter proceeded to pack up his belongings and head out to address and post the envelope. He never missed a mail run when it came to sending letters to Illyana.

Never.

[Animaux]

Cal wandered aimlessly down a hallway of the mansion. Things were not exactly what she'd call exciting around here - safe, yes, but not interesting. Her wild heart, not entirely satisfied with the mansion's large grounds to roam around in, wanted things stirred up a bit.

Not that she wasn't upset over Xavier's death; but although he had started her on the healthiest path her life had ever been on, she hadn't known him very well. And the mourning quiet around the mansion since Storm took over was making her feel a little bit... caged. But really, she didn't know that she could do anything about it. Forces greater than she seemed to run things around here. Forces like... the weather.

She yawned and changed direction, rounding a hallway corner. I feel like a snack.

Another corner-turn brought her to the french doors of the conservatory. She ducked her head and strolled in.

She normally didn't have to duck to get through any doors, but her form-du-jour happened to be a giraffe.

[tingrin]

If Peter was alarmed at the sudden appearance of a giraffe in the conservatory, he didn't let it show any more obviously than a barely noticeable raising of both eyebrows.

"Good morning, Cal," he said, a little hesitantly, just in case it wasn't in fact the young woman and a giraffe had indeed come into the mansion.

Stranger things had, after all, happened.

[Animaux]

Cal huffed happily through her nostrils and then put out her long tongue and cleaned one out. She always liked when people were surprised by her animal forms.

When Peter said "good morning," she opened her mouth to answer, but remembered with a grunt that giraffes had no vocal cords. Damn. Any sort of conversation would have to wait till after her snack.

She nosed her way into one of the plant-boxes and pulled out a few leaves. Munching on them, she turned to Peter, bent her long neck over and nodded at his sketchbook with as much questioning as a giraffe could muster.

[tingrin]

When the giraffe gestured in the direction of his sketchbook, Peter simply stared at it for a few minutes. It had been the licking out of its own nostrils, maybe, but he felt his stomach turn over slightly.

"Oh, you want to see what I have been doing. Oh, yes. Well." He flipped the sketchbook open at the caricature of Bobby Drake headbutting the hell out of John Allerdyce.

"Old news, I know," he said, almost sheepishly, "but it still manages to amuse me. Perhaps I could draw a picture of you in giraffe form, you have the most beautiful lines and curves..."

He broke off as he realised that what he had said could easily be misconstrued and a faint blush started somewhere at the base of his neck and crept rapidly upwards.

[Animaux]

Cal nodded her pointed head up and down at the drawing. It was very good. Having no drawing talent herself, she felt very complimentary towards artists. She huffed at the pages, making them flutter in hopes of seeing more. I might have to change back soon, communicating is getting annoying. But - mm, was that a rose petal? She smacked her lips slightly. Plants didn't taste nearly as good in human form.

Anyhow, Peter was just giving her giraffe a wonderful compliment. She craned her neck around to look at him, thought for a moment and nodded again at his offer.

Splaying her legs, bugging her eyes out and dangling out her long tongue, she struck the most ridiculous pose she could think of.

[tingrin]

Peter, when confronted by a giraffe throwing some kind of mad fit at him, did something he'd not done in weeks.

He threw his head back and roared with laughter.

It felt good to laugh again. He had known that he hadn't truly forgotten how to laugh, but it had just seemed something that he shouldn't do somehow, with the sombre mood around the mansion.

Wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, his blush died down and he took his drawing pencil out of his pocket, sitting back down in the seat he'd just vacated and turning to a blank page.

"Now then," he said, starting to sketch. "Giraffe."

[Animaux]

Cal felt her hair stand on end with pleasure as the other mutant burst into laughter. She always felt good about pleasing people in animal form - it was a refreshing far cry from frightening them, which she had done for years before.

She would have licked him with happiness but didn't think it would be appropriate, for any number of reasons. She made some more huffing noises instead. Her own outgoingness was surprising her, though; she always was much more daring when she had the excuse of an animal skin around her.

Peter began to draw and she perked up her head, uncertain as to what to do. She had never been the subject of such intense scrutiny before. She stamped her cloven hooves uncertainly.

[tingrin]

When the giraffe started shifting around, Peter's reaction was one of pure concern. He set down his pencil. "You do not have to stay still if you do not wish it," he said, in the very precise way he had of speaking English.

Peter was one of the most open and honest young men that anybody at the mansion had ever met. The concept of 'lying' seemed almost totally alien to him, not that he ever did anything that required lying to cover up.

Feeling ever so faintly self-conscious, he showed the giraffe what he'd done in a short space of time; he'd captured the outline almost perfectly and with very little difficulty.

[Animaux]

Cal wasn't sure how to react to Peter's concern. It was rather foreign to her, and she stopped shifting and remained still, somehow subdued. Honesty always made her feel slightly abashed, as her own track record wasn't the greatest.

The outline was very good. He had pinned the slope of the shoulders, the strange bends in the legs. Giraffe-Cal put her ears forward, impressed, and then straightened up and looked at him as if to say "continue." It seems he didn't need her to do any strange posing after all, and she was the more comfortable for that.

[tingrin]

Peter was always happiest when he was drawing, and he hummed a cheerful little tune as he drew, occasionally looking up at the giraffe as if sitting in a conservatory with a giraffe posing for him were a perfectly normal occurrence.

Several more minutes passed, and he nodded in satisfaction.

"Just needs some toning and shading now," he said, his voice definitely a lot happier than it had been for a while. "Thank you, Cal, for taking the time to pose for me." He blushed again.

"You have lovely eyelashes as a giraffe. That is not to say you do not have them when you are human as well, but..."

He shut up rather than get more tongue-tied.

[Animaux]

While Peter was working, Giraffe-Cal craned her neck over as far as she could to try to see the sketch's progress. She couldn't quite get a good look, though, because her physical limitations left her a bit smaller than the usual giraffe.

When he indicated that he was finished, Cal stepped forward to see, transforming back into a human so that she could converse properly.

"Thanks, Peter." As usual, she didn't register that she wasn't wearing any clothes; but her human form still left her feeling more vulnerable, and she wasn't really sure how to respond to the compliment.

[tingrin]

Oh.

My.

God.

She was...

She didn't have...

She was...

Peter was caught somewhere between squeezing his eyes tightly shut and turning away to preserve her modesty. He did a bit of both: closing his eyes and half-turning as he shrugged off the loose overshirt he wore over his t-shirt. He took it off and handed it vaguely in the direction he remembered her as having been.

[Animaux]

Oh, shoot. Cal was terrible at remembering how much this bothered people. "Sorry, uh -" she took the offered shirt and wrapped it around herself. It smelled... really good. Her heightened senses shut down the rest of her brain for a moment and she reeled slightly.

In a moment, however, she became conscious that she was still standing stupidly in front of Peter, and she gave herself a mental slap. Dumbass.

"Yeah, thanks." She sat down on the bench, leaving a bit of space between them, and tried to restore the previously carefree mood. She still felt vulnerable as a human, and hated it. Maybe by pretending to feel otherwise she could really change the way she felt.

"Let's have a look then?" she said brightly, and put out a hand for the sketchbook.

[tingrin]

Peter finally opened his eyes again and was relieved that she was now mostly covered up. He had nothing against attractive, naked girls, per se, but in his particular case, he had been alarmed by the suddenness of it all. He passed the sketchbook across the short distance that separated them.

He was a fabulous artist, of that there was no question. The detail that he'd put into the picture was extraordinary.

"It is little more than a doodle," he said, modestly. "If I were to sit for longer, perhaps with charcoal, or pastels, I could achieve a great deal more. Perhaps, sometime, you could spare me time with some of your other forms."

A pause.

"Bring a dressing gown."

[Animaux]

Cal nodded at the drawing with much the same gesture that she had used as a giraffe. It was impressively good - the way the back rose towards the neck, the unique triangular shape of the head, the spots... Hey, the spots.

"That actually - well, it's me, isn't it?" Her eyebrows went up slightly. There was no mistaking it. "A good likeness, eh?" She wasn't about to lavish praise on him - that wasn't her style - but she was definitely impressed.

"Oh yah, I'd be up for that for sure. Any animals you need work on? I - I do a mean squirrel."

Cal laughed nervously. "Yeah, I forget about that sometimes. Mind if I borrow this for a bit?" She pulled slightly at the collar of the shirt. "I'll wash it for you."

[Shadowcat]

Without Xavier around, the year-round mansion school was missing one class period for almost every mutant on campus. It was really incredible, Kitty thought, how much you could miss someone - how much more you could miss someone than you thought you would.

Xavier hadn't been young; they all knew that. Kitty had expected him to die at some point during her life, but they'd all expected, everyone at the mansion, to gather around his bedside as he slowly faded, peacefully and painlessly, from a simple shutdown. No one had really expected him to burst into cornflakes in the face of a wave of simple destruction from a woman from whom they'd all learned Applied Sciences 101, 201 and Advanced Placement, or for her to fry Scott "Beginning Auto Mechanics/Advanced Auto Mechanics/Extreme-Condition Driving" Summers before anyone could even blink.

Kitty crossed her arms over her blue hoodie and schlumped further into the mansion restlessly, looking for something to do that wouldn't involve any of those who'd died in the last fight or anything that could remind her of them. This was a little hard for Kitty; right now, it seemed like even linoleum tile could call up Professor Xavier's shiny bald head and accompanying memories of therapy sessions, modern sociology classes or even simple (st)rolls through the grounds.

She hunched her way quietly into the conservatory to find Colossus and Cal - Cal half-dressed, which was more than one could usually say for her, and Colossus sporting the remains of a deep blush. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and Kitty waved a small hello to the pair before finding a large overturned terra-cotta pot to sit on, a few feet away from both of them, next to a few friendly-looking hostas.

"Hi," she said, leaning a little towards Peter's drawing. "What are you two up to?"

[Animaux]

Cal looked up from the drawing as Kitty entered the room.

Cal liked that girl, she was sweet, almost a kindred spirit - although they didn't know each other too well yet. "Hey Kitty," she half-smiled, feeling slightly uncomfortable again but trying not to show it. She still wasn't used to social situations, having been a loner for so long. "Peter drew me, and it's really good. Check it out."

She looked at Peter, hoping he would share the beautiful drawing.

[tingrin]

Things happened.

Very quickly.

Firstly, Cal asked if he minded if she borrowed his shirt, to which he replied with an instant "Do not be silly, of course I do not mind. I have other shirts."

Then Kitty turned up.

Then Peter found himself in a room with two attractive young ladies, which was something he generally managed to avoid. However, he was feeling slightly more confident after his enjoyable drawing session with Cal-the-giraffe, and this morning he managed to bestow a warm, shy smile on the tiny girl.

To be fair, next to the 6'6" Peter, nearly everyone was tiny, but Kitty was...tinier.

"Peter drew me, and it's really good. Check it out."

Happy to share his work, Peter passed the sketchbook across to Kitty.

[Animaux]

[OOC: Actually, Cal's pretty short herself! Shorter than Kitty I think.]

"Thanks, Colossus," said Cal jokingly, glancing over to meet Peter's eye and unconsciously wrapping the shirt around her a bit more tightly just in case any bits were showing. She then turned to the sketchbook and put out a hand to point.

"Look, those are just the way my spots go, too."