2012-12-02 At Xavier's Gate

It's one of those miserably cold early-December nights, and there aren't many people keen on being outside tonight. But such things don't bother the school's resident weather goddess. Ororo doesn't even have a coat on. Or shoes, for that matter- the feeling of the frozen earth beneath her bare feet is something of a comfort. She's walking along the wooded edge of the property, perhaps just out on a stroll for her own pleasure, or doing a routine check for students breaking curfew. She sighs a little as she finds the evidence of some earlier misbehaiving.

One would think teenagers would be less likely to sneak out with beer and cigarettes in a school with more than one telepath on hand- or, for that matter, leave the evidence laying between some trees when at least one teacher can track them by scent. But, well, the nature of the teenager doesn't necessarily change just because they possess an active X-Gene.

If Storm senses, say, the body heat of another, or warm breath in the cold air anywhere near her, she doesn't show it. Is she not paying much attention to her connection to her enviroment, or does she just have a very good poker face?

"I do hope that this goes well," Magneto confides to Mystique. The pair is taking the path up the long drive to the entry gates, having been dropped by a sleek Mercedes that promptly departed afterwards. "Charles and I have disagreed rather... vehemently in the past, but I have hope for his pupils." His cane precedes their arrival by some seconds- an arrythmic tap-tapping against the stone underfoot that countertimes his hard-soled oxford shoes.

Upon closing on the gate, he stands with his cane to the side and one hand tucked into his coat jacket, fingertips tapping against the ivory handle. As Ororo passes the gate, his voice lifts. "A bit late, to be trimming the verge?" he calls out to her whimsically, lips quirking into a smile. He glances down, then back at her. "And barefoot, no less. One would hope that one of Xavier's professors doesn't catch pneumonia from the chill." Magneto does look comfortable in his heavy peacoat, despite the chill.

There's only one problem with being a shapeshifter. After spending so much time in disguise, sometimes it's difficult to go back to being one's true self. That, and being incognito tends to be how Mystique rolls. Keep everyone guessing, all the time. Very few have seen her true colors, as it were. Here, at the grounds of Xavier's, she keeps that blue nature hidden once more in favor of Melissa Hawthorne, the wavy blonde that always dresses like eighty percent of everyone else within the tri-city area. It's fashion! Supposedly.

"He doesn't strike me as the sort to chase you off of his porch," she replies with a slight grin. Where Erik stands, Melissa is at his side with a hand lightly placed upon his nearest shoulder. Quite the pair, these two. 'Melissa' is decades younger and there's no obvious blood relation. Not that she seems to care.

"Seems we aren't the only nightowls about this evening."

"Not a concern," Ororo replies smoothly as she turns, just as a particularly cold wind passes over her visiters. Remarkably cold. As in, a little bit of frost might just form on that cane of Erik's. "I'm afraid I can't permit you to come in any further. Charles isn't available right now- would you like to leave a message?" the white-haired woman asks in an accented voice as cold as the wind she summoned. She tilts her chin up, proud, making a point to show them she's unafraid.

"Actually, that rather simplifies things," Erik remarks, a bit whimsically. Some tension slips from his shoulders. "Erik Lehnsherr, madam," he offers by way of introduction. He clicks his heels together and tilts his head forward, doffing his hat an inch in her direction. "My lovely companion, Melissa Hawthorne. I do apologize for coming upon you like a vagrant in the evening," he assures her apologetically. "I was hoping to speak with some of your teachers about your school. Your... special education, specifically," he adds, with a slight but meaningful shift of his eyes.

There's a moment where Melissa is sorely tempted to shift her own eyes in that sudden flash of yellow sort of way, but she decides against it. No need to play her hand just yet, and there's something about the woman beyond the gate that she recognizes. A certain search and rescue mission gone awry south of Alaska. This is the one that could adjust the weather. A powerful creature, indeed, as she so helpfully demonstrates within the next moment. "No need for the cold shoulder," she replies with an amused, borderline wicked, grin. "Our visit is merely a social one." It's almost unfortunate that recognition is not currently mutual, though depending upon how this game is played, maybe sometime down the road...

I'm afraid our security policy doesn't allow for visitors after a certain hour, nor for anyone to enter the school without a rather stringent background check," Ororo replies, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tone remains very steady, and perhaps, to some ears, a touch chilly. "So, I'm afraid, anything you have to enquire about will have to be said right here." She meets Erik's gaze evenly, cold blue eyes betraying little beyond annoyance at being inturrupted during her evening walk. Perhaps, by some small chance, Charles /hasn't/ warned his more trusted pupils about his old friend? Or, again, perhaps Ororo is just very good at hiding her reactions. "What, exactly, would you like to discuss?"

"I see," Erik says, sounding faintly disappointed. "Well. This is a bit awkward," he mutters, rolling his fingers against the ivory shod cane. He tamps it once against the ground and looks up, collecting his thoughts. "Very well then. I understand that your school offers education and training to students with a particular set of gifts. Those that are uniquely a product of their genetic code," he says. "I have some young men and women under my stewardship who are in need of some instruction of that nature."

'Melissa' has to remind herself not to grin -too- much, here. They took the time out of their evening to come all the way out here to have a civil conversation regarding the betterment of their own kind, and they're being handled with suspicion and, perhaps, even a bit of malice. Perfectly civil, these two! While she's not bombing old subway tunnels or stealing samples of a peculiar organic crystal growth, anyway. Or starting riots. But those were all with other identities, so that makes all the difference. "Your school is still accepting new students, is it not..? It is something which they are looking forward to."

Ororo nods, once, and seems to consider what Erik has to say for a few moments. "We are always accepting new students, of course," she says. "But at least two of our senior staff members would have to meet with these prospective students," she says. "We have something of an... interview process. If you'd like to leave us a way of contacting these children, I'm sure something could be arranged."

"I would rather speak with your associates on their behalf," Magneto says. He sighs, shoulders dropping a bit wearily. The cold is clearly taking a toll on the man, who despite his vigor is clearly a fellow well past his physical prime. "But I'm afraid I have made a grave error and come at an inconvenient hour. Perhaps this was a poor decision." He hesitates, gripping his cane and tapping it on the ground and deliberating. "I am sorry to have bothered you, good lady. Come, Melissa," he invites his companion, gently laying fingertips on her wrist. "Perhaps we can summon the driver before he is too far into the city."

Melissa simply inclines her head toward Erik when the call is made to turn back and head home. "Was getting a bit chilly for my liking, anyway," she remarks with a glance not quite on the sly back to Storm. The woman controls the weather, surely she could have made it more pleasant for them rather than more hostile? Not the friendliest of greetings, even if their arrival is late in the hour and unannounced. With an effortless motion she gently hooks her arm within her companion's and turns to depart. Clearly tonight is not the night for progress to be made.

Storm watches them as they leave. Cautiously. Then goes to alert the other X-Men to a possible threat... and the very small possibility Erik was telling the truth, in which case, possible new students. Which, admittedly, will also probably be viewed as a possible threat, depending on how much time they've spent with Magneto. Trusting bunch, those X-Men.