New York in the Autumn. There was a certain tang to the air; some thread of energy that announced the change in the air, from a time of growth to a time of waiting. All around, the trees were changing into red and gold finery, in casual mockery of real flames.

In a word: it was starting to get cold.

On the wall of the Mansion, a peacock was being fussy. It had feathers quite like the tree's finery, except finer, thank you. There was none of that visual fakery. The birds reds and golds, unlike those leaves, really were warm to the touch. Quite warm. And he would be warmer yet, if he had his way.

The morning sunlight was shining down on the lawn of this estate; it was an absolutely perfect day for basking.

Except for the wind. Stupid. Wind. The bird tried turning his posterior to it, but that only resulted in his own splendid tail feathers being tossed over his head. His dignity would not permit of continuing. He tried being a man, and facing it head on: but that made his chest cold and he really didn't want to keep doing it.

He tried perching in a tree, but that blotted out the sun. He tried the roof, but that made the wind worse.

It was with a certain sense of warming triumph that found the windowsill. The building blocked the wind; the sun still shone on him; the world was good.

The phoenix lit his own little fire all around himself as he settled his head under a wing with the greatest of contentment; just the barest flicker of flame over his feathers, easily missed unless one was very close to him. The world was warm; he was warm; this window behind him was getting very warm.

Life was good.

Aiden liked mornings like this. A brisk, blustery (if sunny) day outside, cool enough temperatures inside (but not so cold that Persi could start complaining and trying to jack the heat up), and nothing specific to do. No homework, no class, no training, no getting dragged off through mirrors without warning.

Yeah. This was a pretty good morning, and he was spending it working on the book he had sorely neglected over the past few months. He'd finally had an idea to continue it, so he was taking advantage of the quiet time.

He had roughed out several pages when he started having to blot his hand more than once a page to keep it from dripping. He had finished the outline of the scene to his satisfaction when the drying-frequency crept up to something more like every few seconds. There was something wrong. Aiden paused to take stock of the environment. It was way too hot in here. Oh, come on! Did Persi really mess with the thermostat? Aiden hauled himself over to check. Nope. It was still set as low as he could get away with. Then what....

He saw the bird as he turned around. A bright red bird. Perched on the outside of his windowsill. He had no clue what it was, but it probably shouldn't be there. Looked like some kind of freak peacock. Either way, it shouldn't be there.

... It also shouldn't be getting this hot the closer he got to the window. Sweat was straight-up running down his face and neck now, and when he touched the window frame, he left a damp smear behind. This was not fair. Summer was supposed to finally be over! So he shoved the window open, with absolutely no care to the bird's well-being or balance, and tried to get some proper air into the room.

Ohshtthebirdwasonfire.

Stumbling back into the room was probably a good idea, even if the exertion did leave him lightheaded and panting.

The freak peacock venerable immortal was only mildly disturbed from his slumber by the child who came to bask in his glow. Nothing a bit of graceful wing flapping, awesome clinging to the ledge, and wise re-balancing of his weight further inside couldn't fix.

With his perch no longer imperiled, the living god resettled his wings, and foofed his feathers as he turned to face the child. An accompanying foof of flames enshrined his form as the boy stumbled and nearly swooned at the vision of his majestic self. Really, Bennu pulled out the stops to put on a good godly show; it had been quite some time since a mortal had reacted to him like this.

His divine exuberance may have resulted in the window frame catching on fire. He preferred to think of the smoldering woodwork as blessed by a fire god.

Urgh. Aiden shook his head, trying to clear away the fuzziness playing at the edges of his vision. Blasted... heat. Another shake of his head and a few breaths of disturbingly ineffective air (at least, it would be disturbing if he had time to notice and wasn't busy trying to deal with -

The window was on fire. WHY WAS THE WINDOW ON FIRE?

Oh right, the crazy freak peacock had been on fire too.

... WHY WAS A BIRD ON FIRE?

Either way, one could only get by in society for so long without knowing precisely what to do in case of fires. Aiden even happened to remember where to go at this particular, incredibly helpful instant. He bolted into the hallway (yes, succeeding in opening the door before he went through it), grabbed the conveniently located fire extinguisher, and bravely battled his way against the heat to spray the window (and, incidentally, bird) with anti-fire foam.

The child was breathless at the mere sight of him; his body fairly shook with devotion. He could not even bear the vision of a god manifest for long; he had to run from the room to collect his enlightened mortal thoughts, and spread word of the coming of a blessing such as this.

...This was a good place. People here knew how to react. Bennu might just settle down to roost, right in the very room on whose sill he currently perched; what better way to show his favor for the first of his new followers? Before long, it would be just like old times. He would have his own people who worshiped him and feed him and brought wood for his nightly nests, and—

Oh, the boy was back, with an offering. He raised it on high with the greatest of urgency (they would have to work on his grace, if he was to be a Priest, but Bennu did appreciate the enthusiasm), and—

And extinguished the fire god's budding dreams. To the face. Right. Modern men: they sucked. And... gooed. Out of cans. Apparently. Bennu's feathers dripped with wads of the white, foamy mess.

There was a moment in which he considered letting the slight go.

Yeah, no.

With a petulant flick of his wing, and extremely steady bird-to-boy eye contact, the foamy phoenix lit the nearest bed on fire.

The stupid bird was still sitting there when he got back. What was wrong with it? Was it-

Oh no. Was it rabid? Could birds even get rabies? It was really hard to tell if it was foaming at the mouth when it was covered in foam from the fire extinguisher. He should have checked first instead of just panicking and putting out the window.

The bird was staring at him. Did rabid birds stare? Oh please please please let it not be rabid he didn't want to die and definitely not of rabies. Everything he heard about rabies was bad. He should spray it again, just to be safe. Right.

What? Why was Persi's bed on fire? What was with this stupid burning bird? Aiden let another good, long blast go at the bird's head, really panting (with the heat, just the heat; it was stupid-hot in here and he had to get rid of the stupid bird making the heat or this was going to get real bad real fast and he wasn't going to have time to worry about getting rabies and running around and biting people psychotically because he'd already be DEAD), and then gave Persi's bed a cursory sweep. Please don't let the fire extinguisher run out before the bird left.

The bird was not leaving.

The bird had fought men and monsters, and stood besides gods; the bird had lain exhausted on battlefields strewn with bodies, and found the energy to stand again, from a place he knew not.

The bird recognized war.

With a foamy fluttering flop, it descended onto the foamified bed. Stretching its whitened wings to the heavens, it raised a purifying flame high enough to blacken the ceiling. The foam melted from its feathers; the carpeting began to sizzle.

The bird. Was not. Amused.

"Coo," it said, twitching the outer tip of one wing in an unmistakable gesture.

Coo meant bring it.

Oh no oh no oh no the bird was coming CLOSER. It had to be rabid. Normal birds DID NOT COME CLOSER TO THE PEOPLE SPRAYING THEM WITH FIRE EXTINGUISHERS.

Ooooooohhhhh no. No, this was all wrong. Was it a dream? That was a much better suggestion. Dream. Yes. Aiden would have loved to poke and prod and pinch himself, except his hands were full of fire extinguisher. CEILING ON FIRE! SCCCHHHPLLLLFFFFFTTTTT. CARPET ON FIRE! SCCCHHHHHHPPFFFFLLLLPPFFFTTT.

.... Was the bird... egging him on?

This was a perfect time to wake up. Aiden tried biting the inside of his mouth, since there was no freaking way he was letting go of the disturbingly light fire extinguisher. Owowowowowowowownothat didn't work. So he wasn't dreaming? Uh oh. Um. Bird. Egging him on. Logic, please.

Bird wasn't a bird?



.
.
.

Well, he was in a mansion dedicated to mutants. He tried lowering the extinguisher a little. "Truce?" he offered warily, pretty sure he was talking to a psychotic figmentatious rabid bird thing but not willing to risk the alternative.

The foam spraying ceased. The flames, rising so amply in response, banked themselves low to the bird's body without venting their wrath further. For now.

The boy paused as thoughts visibly flickered behind his eyes. ...One of which was a very non-standard-human tone, Bennu noticed; a pale silver, that formed an opposing shade to his own sharp gold.

The boy paused, thought, and spoke: "Truce?"

The bird sat silent and smoldering for a moment. Then, with a very deliberate air that confirmed the suspicions of its intelligence, it hopped down from the charred remains of the bed frame. Strode across the floor. Held itself strong and tall, and starred up at the boy from kneecap level. With an exceptionally slow gesture, it stretched out its long neck, and pressed the tip of its still burning beak against the fire extinguisher.

Ever touch the side of a pot while it was on the stove? Like that. Metal was a superb conductor of heat.

There could be no truce. Only total conquest. Drop thine unholy snow-like weaponary and bow down before the god who conquers thy bedroom, mortal spawn.

The fires faded. Good sign.

The bird sat still. Good sign.

The bird approached. ...... less good sign, but... you know. No fire?

So, was it going to agree to a truce? It was reaching out - oh no.

Aiden didn't quite clue into the stupid rabid bird's plan before pain, and worst of all, heat, rushed through his hands. It really was a pity all around, because his reaction was to wrench his hands away. The fire extinguisher might attempt to pull a Wile. E. Coyote, but gravity would take hold eventually. It was, after all, the supreme god present, no matter what the stupid bird seemed to think.

And then the heat made it past Aiden's hands, the room shattered into those little tiny colourfully rainbow bits of noise like on a staticy TV injected with neon glitter, and his descent was finalized by the wall politely catching his skull and slowing his initial fall.

Gravity's hard kiss
Red reflects in a gold eye
But the boy fell first.

A haiku; "My Victory Was First, You Punk." Composed in the mind of the phoenix Bennu, in the moment before a fire extinguisher hit his head.

His moment of gloating was small, but eternal.

Loud explosions were not an unusual event in the Mansion. At least, not so unusual that Persi was overly bothered by them.

Loud explosions apparently coming from his room were not so usual. At least, not so usual that Persi was entirely shocked when he got to the door (slightly faster than he otherwise would have), looked inside, and discovered....

...Well. He wasn't sure what. Aiden was collapsed next to a (now dented) wall (which was bad). A... red and orange peacock? Had Persi gone colorblind? was also collapsed, beside what appeared to be a ruptured fire extinguisher in the middle of the room. The rest of the room was covered in charred whatever had formerly been there, and foam that presumably came from the former fire extinguisher. Especially Persi's bed. Well, the piece...s... of matter that had been his bed. That was predictable, really. At least the walls were... mostly intact. The building was still standing, anyway. Even this section of it.

Persi blinked several times, looked around the room again, set the peacock that might cause colorblindness on Aiden, and began dragging the pair toward the infirmary. First, however, he paused to grab a (miraculously, mostly unharmed, since it had a hard cover) sketchbook. This was a scene that deserved to be preserved.

((ooc: Continued in Eternal Flame.))