There were very few thing she was familiar with in this country, let alone within the city. All were foreign to her in some fashion, and though she tried her best to roll with it, she was honestly stressed. In all her life she had never so much stepped foot outside her home city, let along the country... and yet here she was on strange soil, surrounded by strange people with even stranger customs, and with a loose grasp on a language she had only been studying for a little over a year.

It was both terrifying and fascinating. She hadn't been able to cease wringing her hands or tinkering with her rosary, and yet she was only barely able to contain her natural curiosity to modest levels.

... She wanted very much to touch so many things. All of the new plants and objects. Various kinds of food she abstained from eating. Smells that left her flabbergasted and at a loss. Thankfully, the Father had sent along a Clergy member from one of the American congregations, who both acted as her chaperone and her translator when the language became too much for her. He was a small solace within the chaos that was New York, and the tension she tried so hard to release.

However, if there was one place within that chaos that felt familiar, it was within the walls of a holy place. The Clergyman happened to know of a few places within the area they could visit, seeing as she had expressed interest in getting to know some of the local churches better he had shown her the way to the closest one.

The walk there had been tense... Her concealing robes were different than those most Americans usually associated with women who had devoted themselves to god. She was not your classic nun with the typical habit and white embellishments. She was relieved the moment she passed through the chapel doors...

As it turned out a service appeared to be in full swing. Quietly, so as not to disturb what was going on, the Mother and her chaperone found themselves seats in the back and settled to listen... The Clergyman quietly translated for her as she watched on in apt fascination.

Were American services very different?

For those individuals who knew the public face of Jorge Cervantes, the church didn’t seem like all that strange of a place to find him. The man was raised in a deeply religious household, after all, and all the good work that he does, he does for the benefit of all lives, including mutants! His charitability has led many to believe that the man has a simple heart of gold, especially after he had donated to five-hundred thousand in total to several churches in the area. The act had painted the picture of a man who had achieved success and was willing to give back to the community he nestled so deeply into.

However, for those people who truly met the other side of Jorge Cervantes, the side that went by the moniker of Poseidon, they either found the act to be brilliance or utterly sacrilegious. The true Jorge was a criminal, a monster, a man who had no problem ensuring the demise of people in order to make sure that his own goals of financial and mutant superiority were realized, by any means necessary. Like Lucifer, he was truly a devil who knew how to wear a halo with utmost effectiveness.

Today’s mass had been a special one. The priest was in rare form, speaking to the gathered community on several important matters of concern towards the populace. The people listened with open ears and open hearts, accepting the light of God into their lives for brighter souls and brighter futures. It was truly an inspiring time. As the priest came to the end of his speech, the spirit of such humanity drove the man to summon one important individual onto the front of the congregation.

Moving smoothly from his seat to the front, Jorge turned on his heel and gave everyone in attendance the purest and most charming of his smiles. It was the kind of smile that could disarm anyone who had the any doubt about him. Jorge was a charming, handsome, and well intentioned man with a magnificent speaking voice, at least that was the picture he painted for them.

Clearly his throat, he spoke up. ”Um, thank you,” he said with earnest surprise and a tinge of shyness to his voice. ”I am humbled and honored to be able to stand up here and speak to you all. As many of you know, my name is Jorge Cervantes. And though my chosen profession may not deal with the purest of subjects, rest assured that my own intentions have always been centered directly upon the community…and to God.”

Oh how the snake oil easily slipped from the man’s lips. As he spoke to the congregation, his words lifted higher and more passionately, speaking of his coming to New York with little else except for the love of God in his heart. By trusting the almighty he found a place for himself in the community, had been able to start his night club. Though not many people liked the idea of such an establishment, the man spun a confusing and admirable web about how though he pulled in the funds of sinners, he assued that the majority of it was as pure as can be before being filtered back to the people and into places like the church. The man was indeed a deity with words and though anyone who knew the true heart of this man knew he was lying, none here truly knew him.

With a grateful sigh, the paragon of the community gave them all the brightest and warmest of smiles. His virtues as a good man, his generosity towards the church, it practically made him glow with holy light. Towards the end of his speech, the man began to wind things towards towards his true announcement. ”Having said all that, and thank you for bearing with me,” he said with a well-meaning chuckle that caused other’s to reciprocate, Jorge continued. ”I would just like to announce that this church, my home away from home, the pinnacle of holiness that I am proud to be a part of, will be the first inductee in my latest charity project, Gifts of Enlightenment, which will fund churches, just like this one, annually, with hopes of making God’s light shine all the more brightly in the community. Thank you.”

The congregation, touched by generosity and hope for a brighter future, applauded and thank the man, praised god for such a charitable soul, before the priest returned as the center of focus. With a gesture and a blessing, the people were finally granted leave. Jorge was one of the last to stand, instead standing back, talking with those people who went up to greet him. They were all smiles and tears, shaking his hand or offering him hugs. Jorge was only too glad to make time for all of them.

Bidding the last one away, a kindly old grandmother being led away by her granddaughter, Jorge sighed as he followed. However, as he moved down the aisle, he stopped when he came across a rather particular view. There, sitting in the back, was a woman seemingly covered with an official looking gentleman at her side. As he stopped by, he tilted his head and gave the woman a small, respectful bow of his head.

”Good day,” he greeted, his charm sparkling in his brilliant smile.

Through her guide, she was effectively able to capture most of the sermon from both the priest and from a guest who had been asked to stand. This particular act drew her attention quite aptly, as she had never seen a prominent member of the community asked to stand and talk before.

Within her own church, those that gathered wanted only to hear the words of the Father. Her only interaction with others was through confession and anointment ceremony. This... this was equal parts fascinating and bazaar. Her interpreter was familiar with such things, though and didn't let anything color the words he translated for her.

She understood the gifts of charity quite well and was more or less unaware of how most American churches works. It was a heart-lifting thing to hear, someone who was apparently quite well off willing to donate time and money to those less fortunate.

Her eyes drifted around the congregation slowly, taking in those who had gathered.

My, the less fortunate certainly seemed fairly fortunate, didn't they? Some of those gathered were in their best dressed, with ears and diamonds strung around necks and ears. All in all, each person looked rather well off and kept.

It was a striking different to her own monastery. Those who gathered wore their best if they had them... but they usually ended up being plain clothes. Modest clothes. It was not often she encountered so many so openly flaunting their wealth.

Shaking herself from the thoughts, which may have been bordering on judgment, she refocused on who it was speaking at the alter. Eventually, the service was over, and she quietly watched as people filtered out. Most of the whispers she heard as they passed she wasn't privy to catch, and her translator didn't seem the type to pry into other people's business.

The last to leave seemed to be the speaker, as the Priest was making himself busy up at the alter. Her guide stood politely, and she followed suit.

"Good day,"

She inclined her chin as well, meeting his gaze with her own and offering a soft smile in return. As he had done many times before, her guide was the first to offer a vocal introduction, as well as a handshake.

"Good day. This is the Mother Magdalan." She winced slightly as he butchered her name for the billionth time that day, but smiled through it. "I am her chaperone, Patrick."

She waited for Patrick to finish, before offering a greeting of her own in her mother tongue and bowing slightly. "Chaírete

Her eyes drifted back toward the altar, and the elaborate decorations scattered about. She wanted to go explore. Why didn't they have more paintings on the walls?

"You gave a very very beautiful speech. very passionate." Her accent was thick, and though she had been practicing English for quite a while now it was still fairly obvious that it was a second language.

"Is custom here for public to speak at mass?"

Jorge had been to church a number of times and had seen many different types of patrons come and go. Most of the time they were regulars, people who came more out of habit than belief, dressed in their finest. Other times it had been transients just looking for a warm place to rest before heading out into the bitter cold or unseasonably hot weather. And other times it was church officials, priests and other such individuals who had every business being in such a setting. But as the man’s eyes settled upon the younger woman in her robes, the man found himself to be somewhat taken aback; not out of fear or ignorance, but out of curiosity. She was a sight to behold.

Still, the man was always the gentleman and as curious as he was, he wasn’t going to gawk or stare without at least greeting the individual. With an incline of his head, he smiled warmly at her and bid her a good day. This seemed to stir the official who was sitting next to her. The both of them stood and greeted him in similar manner before the male introduced the both of them.

>> "Good day. This is the Mother Magdalan…I am her chaperone, Patrick."

>> "Chaírete

He nodded his head. Oh so she wasn’t just a regular nun or anything like that – she was someone far more important. A look of humbleness appeared on his face as he bowed his head again in greeting to the younger woman. The man he could have cared less for, especially with that butchering of the name he had uttered. He could only surmise that he was trying to say “Magdalene” and, really, who in the church doesn’t know how to say that right? He found it somewhat amusing but his entertainment didn’t show upon his features.

”It’s an honor indeed. Patrick,” he nodded to the chaperone, and then to the woman. ”Mother…” he smiled winningly. ”It’s certainly lovely to meet you both.”

Standing to his full, impressive height, the man clasped his hands behind his back as he looked over the two of them. The younger woman was new to the country, he could tell just by the bewildered way that she seemed to be looking at everything around the church. It was a point that was only added to by the fact that she required a chaperone and an interpreter. Still, there was something interesting about the holy figure that Jorge couldn’t put his finger on. His instinct told him that there was something more about her…

>> "You gave a very very beautiful speech. very passionate…Is custom here for public to speak at mass?"

A look of humility appeared on his face as he nodded his thanks. ”Thank you. I…was merely speaking from my heart.”

In her broken English she inquired as to some of the customs in the American churches. The man smirked and nodded his head. It was true that there wasn’t a lot of public speaking at these things but it tended to happen more often than one would have assumed. Maybe it was just the freedom of speech mentality of Americans or their inability to not allow traditions to go unchanged for too long, either way it must have been a different world for the younger woman. He smiled in an understanding manner as he replied.

”Sometimes,” he admitted. ”Especially with the smaller churches,” he said, gesturing around them. ”Local churches like this can be especially community driven so many of the people know one another and the priest sometimes wants to hear from the people. Helps to form a stronger connection with the rest of us, I’m guessing.” He tilted his head as he looked at her. ”Pardon my asking, Mother, but are you new to our shores?”

My, was he tall. Partick and the Father were of average height. It seemed that Many Americans tended to want to drift off toward the ceiling instead of staying closer to the floor.

”Thank you. I… was merely speaking from my heart.”

Her smile shifted into one that was a little more natural on her features. Formality was something she was still being coached on, especially within the walls of a foreign power. This one, however, he may be dressed, seemed to share similar views. She didn't need much help from her guide to understand that. "A wise place to speak freely from."

”Sometimes,  Especially with the smaller churches, Local churches like this can be especially community driven so many of the people know one another and the priest sometimes wants to hear from the people. Helps to form a stronger connection with the rest of us, I’m guessing.”

Oh.... well that wasn't so strange after all. In fact, it was kind of endearing. A little more community involvement than everyone participating with hymns and chants... She would need to ask the Father about it when she returned to him. "Very interesting method." She commented. Patrick had translated some of that for her, and thankfully it seemed that with this particular American she could understand most of what he was saying without help. 

”Pardon my asking, Mother, but are you new to our shores?”

Her guide moved to answer for her, but she held up a slim hand to stop him. In her native tongue, she requested that he find the priest of the chapel and find a few answers for her. She had many queries buzzing around her head. Patrick hesitated for a moment, before bowing his head slightly and bidding them both a temporary farewell. 

Once he was out of earshot, Magdalene sighed and muttered lightly under her breath a gentle prayer. Patrick had been with her all day, and if she could snag one moment of peace she was willing to take it!

Sheepishly, she turned back to the man. "Apology. He is young... Very eager to help." 

Then, she moved onto his question. "Visiting from Our Lady Grace monastery... Greece." She glanced around at the chapel again. "Social and humanity visits." She flushed slightly in the cheeks, catching sight of a bust of Mother Mary in one corner in her birthday suit. 

Her attention was swiftly back to him, however. She found the people to be just as interesting as the fixtures, sometimes. "Have... you heard of Father Alphaeus? Meeting with Cardinal Holland today."

Over their visit, too. 

Though it didn’t occur to him automatically, there was something vaguely familiar about the young woman before him. Really he didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was just the fact that she had one of those faces? Maybe the name stirred up some vague memories of something he had read, or a past sermon? In all honesty it could have been any or all of those things but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was on his best behavior with the woman and her chaperone before him. This was a house of God, after all.

His curiosity getting the better of him, he began to ask her if she was new to the country. Patrick made motions to answer the question but before he could, the woman lifted her hand to silence him. This seemed to have perplexed the young man but as the woman spoke in her native tongue, he seemed to understand. Nodding his head, he eyed Jorge for a second before he slipped away and headed to find the priest, leaving the criminal alone with the saint.

>> "Apology. He is young... Very eager to help."

His eyes drifting back to her, he gave her a well-meaning smile as she muttered something under her breath before explaining young Patrick’s eagerness. Jorge smirked a little and nodded his head as he turned to watch the man walk away before turning back to the religious figure.

”No apology necessary,” he said warmly. ”Honestly, if I were in his position, I would be just as eager to help.”

In some part it was true. Jorge did have a great respect for religious figures, even if his own everyday actions were actually quite contrary to it. However, he liked to think that, in his youth, it was possible that he could have dedicated himself to such a cause. To bring enlightenment to masses, it was very much what he strived to do now, only it was far less legal. But all this was besides the point. He refocused on the young woman as she answered his question.

>> "Visiting from Our Lady Grace monastery... Greece…Have... you heard of Father Alphaeus? Meeting with Cardinal Holland today."

Jorge raised his eyebrows, interested in the fact that she was from a monastery in Greece. However there was a spark of something akin to recognition in his mind. As the woman went on to speak of the name of Father Alphaeus and the Cardinal Holland, it finally struck a nerve. All the pieces were snapping into place as he remembered exactly why the young woman had sounded so familiar – he knew she was coming to this country – he had read about it.

Cardinal Holland was an important figure in the religious world of America. However there were several vices that the Cardinal participated in that the rest of the country was blissfully unaware of – well, everyone except for Jorge. The Cardinal was a man who had participated in the many of the services that Jorge Cervantes and his organization provided and, therefore, it was important for him to keep an eye on his activities. That was how he knew about the visiting Father and the supposed individual who would be traveling with him, a young woman with what many claimed was a gift from God.

It was something that had interested the man intensely and now, before him, here she was. Inside he smirked but upon his face he carried the same reverie he did when he first met her.

Going along with his initial surprise, he nodded his head to the woman, his expression clearly denoting his intrigue in the young woman and the obvious knowledge of her celebrity. ”Oh…my goodness…” the humblness re-entered his voice as he gave her another respectful bow. ”Mother Magdalene. It’s you. Like…YOU you…” he chuckled, feigning nervousness. ”I’m so sorry,” he chuckled. ”I do hope I am not keeping you from anything important?”

Something seemed to click and in an instant, he changed. Slightly more nervous. Something she had said seemed to cue it. Her eyes widened slightly, and she flushed light pink as she lifted a hand and waved it slightly. "No, no... No necessary apology." She had encountered reactions like this before on other visits, but this was one of the first within America.

"I... how you say... have time on hands? Catholic and Christian are.. eh... different belief in practice... Thought it best I not attend." The Cardinal had expressed quite a bit of vocal distaste over her inclusion on the trip, even though there were those in American who had written to her monastery personally for prayer and guidance. Given her gift, it was hard to turn the opportunity down when it was presented. There was so much good she could do if given the chance.

They just needed to make sure that the other religious figures fighting for control within America didn't see the move as an aggressive one... so the Father and Abbess had chosen to have 'peace talks' with a few of the more prominent members within the city.

"Thought to see some of this city before I am too busy." She gestured around her at the church, "Very different from Monastery I come from. More... modern."

She fixed a smile at him again, hands clasped together over the front of her robes. "And the people... Though, it is still strange to hear my name in foreign tongue."

It occurred to her then that she did not know his name... he had not offered it, and Patrick had not asked. Was.... was she allowed to ask him? With Father Alphaeus things had always been so relaxed... some of the other faiths seemed to be so... uptight.

After a moment of contemplation, she decided to go for it. A name had power, and asking helped to bridge the gap between two people.

"Your name, may I know it?"

Oh he knew who she was. Jorge made it his business to know the goings-on of as many important people throughout the world as he could, especially when they were passing through his city. Though Jorge didn’t have dealings with all of them, he knew it was always better to keep a wary eye open just in case. He was a firm believer of always be prepared and being prepared meant know being in the know as much as possible. This woman was part of a very important entourage that was coming for talks in America and she had garnered a special interest of him.

Of course he only had a few newspaper clippings to go on and little else, but her fame was far reaching. Considered one of the most holy and blessed in the church, he read on how people would trek for miles to just to come see her, to receive her healing gifts. At first the man had figured that it was nothing more than publicity cooked up by church officials but the reports continued to comply and proved to him that that simply wasn’t the case – she was the real deal. But what would he do with this information? That was another story entirely.

Jorge continued to feign the appearance of a truly touched and humbled man before the younger woman’s presence. He expressed his gratitude for meeting her and his apology if he was taking up any of her valuable time. However she was quick to deter him from his supposed thoughts…

>> "I... how you say... have time on hands? Catholic and Christian are.. eh... different belief in practice... Thought it best I not attend…Thought to see some of this city before I am too busy…”

A look of relief washed over his face that he wouldn’t be keeping the younger woman from anything important. He understood that there could be come challenges when it came to Christian and Catholic meetings so it was probably was indeed best that she not be involved in it, just in order to ensure that such meetings went smoothly.

He nodded his head as she explained that she was traveling and exploring the city while she could. If the stories about her abilities were, in fact, true, then she was certainly going to be very, very busy. However, while he listened as attentive as possible, in the back of his mind he was trying to formulate a plan. He wasn’t about to kidnap or do anything cruel to the young woman but more he wanted to figure out the most effective way to manipulate her. To have that kind of power, and the position that she holds, under his own influence would be a great thing indeed. However it was a task that would have to be done with the utmost care.

>> ” Very different from Monastery I come from. More... modern… And the people... Though, it is still strange to hear my name in foreign tongue."

He smirked a little in understanding. ”Oh, I understand something of that. Clearly not on the level of yourself,” he said with humility. ”But when I first started here I came here with nothing too. However when I had become a success and started giving back to the community, well, I’m still getting used to people knowing my name.”

His smile was sweet and understanding, the kind that, upon seeing it, would have made anyone feel like the man was of the utmost generosity. Jorge was very well-practiced in delivering that expression.

>> "Your name, may I know it?"

A look of embarrassment covered his features as the young woman inquired after his own name. He looked somewhat mortified as he held his hand to his face, trying to hide his features. ”Oh jeez, I haven’t even introduced myself, have I? I’m deeply sorry. That is very rude of me.” he said. Straightening up, he gave her look of appreciation and greeting. ”Jorge Cervantes, at your service, Mother.” He said with a respectful bow. ”Seriously, if there is anything that you need while you are here in New York, please do not be afraid to call upon me. I am a servant to god and all those that are representatives. Truly.”

”Oh jeez, I haven’t even introduced myself, have I? I’m deeply sorry. That is very rude of me.”

She shook her head slightly, not bothered in the least. In Fact, it was often customary for most men to politely ignore her. There wasn't much interaction between genders, unless you held a higher title or were given special permission.

”Jorge Cervantes, at your service, Mother. Seriously, if there is anything that you need while you are here in New York, please do not be afraid to call upon me. I am a servant to god and all those that are representatives. Truly.”

"Thank you. Is very kind to offer. Similar, please ask if you require anything from me."

She motioned for one of his hands gently, if he was comfortable with giving it to her. "May I give blessing?" She asked plainly, tilting her head slightly as she waited.

Normally, it was a little taboo for her to ask, but she had found that in some places there were those unwilling to take the first step, even if they wanted too.

If he accepted her offer, she would take his hand in hers and lay her other hand on top of it. As it was a habit at this point, she typically closed her eyes and muttered the prayer in Greek, before crossing herself and placing a gentle peck upon the person.

Usually, she aimed for cheeks or foreheads, but considering how much taller he was she settled for placing the kiss on the back of his hand.

A few things he was sure to note during the process was the tingling sensation that sprang to life upon his skin from her touch. It tended to spread out in a circular radius across the limb, before eventually muting the further away from where her hands were.

He would also surely not that any wounds, injuries, and scars within that healing radius would be gone by the time she was done. Wounds would close on their own, scars would simply melt back into healthy skin... and any aches or pains within would ebb away.

It only took her a few minutes to finish the prayer and motions, but even in such a small amount of time, small scratches would begin to appear upon her forehead. They were small, and only bled a bit, but were remarkably similar to same wounds that appeared upon the various representations of Jesus scattered around the room.

As if an invisible circlet of thorns had been placed upon her head.

This was a more important meeting than the man could have ever figured. He didn’t think it would be as he had come to the church in order to maintain his image (and of course out of respect), but what were the odds that he would be coming across one of the most important and rising figures in the religious world? Mother Magdalene, while humble, was extremely important because of the potential influence she would be able to gather. It may not seem like it now, considering her shyness and the fact that she is still fairly young, but if everything that Jorge has been reading was true, she would indeed reach such high heights of fame and influence.

Those were aspects of people that Jorge absolutely loved to exploit as it would make his position in the world just that much stronger. However, unlike the Cardinal and other such political figures, this woman was idealistic and clearly couldn’t be lured away with vice or any other such thing that the man could provide or blackmail her with. No, he was simply going to have to win her over with charm and understanding.

Thankfully the man was well-versed in that method as well…

>> "Thank you. Is very kind to offer. Similar, please ask if you require anything from me."

After their greeting and his confirmation that he was indeed her servant should she need help while in New York, he gave her a slight bow to express his gratitude. ”You honor me with your offer. I will make sure to remember that.” Of course he still attempted maintain his humility with her; it was only respectful.

As the man’s mind raced to see how he could further ingratiate himself to her, he stopped when she turned to look around the room. Making sure that no one was around, she casually reached out to offer to take his hand. Jorge tilted his head, curious by this, and was about to asked her if she needed his help or something. However it seemed to be a much more innocent offer…

>> "May I give blessing?

”Oh! Of course,” Another winning smile and Jorge reached out his hand to her’s.

When she took it, Jorge expected the usual blessing that he had heard a hundred times over, but this wouldn’t be the case. Straightening up, he listened as she began to utter her blessing in her native language but suddenly began to notice a strange sensation in his arm. It wasn’t a heart attack or anything dangerous like that, inside it seemed almost like a “good” feeling. A tingling sensation ran up the length of his arm before it weakened and dulled before reaching his shoulder. Looking down at her, he watched with utter surprise as his hand began to alter. Several years ago when he was in Florida, he had gotten sloppy with a man whom he was shaking down for money. He didn’t realize the man was armed and a knife was pulled. After that incident a deep gash had permanently left its mark on the back of Jorge’s hand. However the word “permanent” had lost all meaning.

Jorge’s eyes widened as he looked down to see that the scar that he had always seen had melted away. The scar tissue faded and soon enough the skin where the scar had laid looked the same as every other square inch on him. So the stories were true…she was a healer. He began to contemplate this thought but stopped when he noticed the trickle of blood that began to form on her forehead. While he was still in shock over her gift, he still had the play the part of the faithful servant.

”Oh goodness…” he said. Quickly he reached into his jacket for a handkerchief and stepped a little closer to her. ”A-Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Should I fetch your chaperone? What happened?”

The prayer ended and she released his hand as gently as she had taken it. As soon as she disengaged contact with him the wounds that had started to form on her began to heal.

”Oh goodness… A-Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Should I fetch your chaperone? What happened?”

She chuckled, almost entertained by his reaction. The Greek made no move to step away from him, as it was a common reaction from someone witnessing her gift for the first time, and she wasn't intimidated by him. "Am fine, no need to call Patrick. He is used to it." She started, touching the pinpricks of blood with her fingers. "Some would call stigmata." She gestured to the larger figure of Jesus hung on the wall behind the altar.

"...'he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds, we are healed'..." She quoted softly, before turning her attention back to Jorge.

"I am the vessel. Through me, you are healed. It is normal and I heal quickly."

When she had been young it had been frightening, to say the least. When you started randomly bleeding from various places anytime you touched someone who happened to be injured it could be stressful. The Father had really opened her eyes to the true meaning of the wounds, and in time she had grown to love and accept them.

"... Are you okay? Usually only happen when injury present."

It was quite a thing to bear witness to, to watch as wounds healed up thanks to a simple touch. Of course there were a lot of mutants in the world, a lot of people who had fantastic abilities, but something like this Jorge always found as the most awe-inspiring. It was something that proved that mutants were better than humans, a point that the man had believed in for as long as he could remember. The simple fact was that the reason that humans could not do these amazing things was because they weren’t meant to – they were supposed to cower before storms, waves, and the paranormal; mutants, however were supposed to harness them.

What Mother Magdalene did just now challenged the one unifying force in the universe, the one thing that humans strove to conquer but that mutants seemingly could – death. This young woman, with her amazing gifts, could hold back, maybe even permanently stave off the Reaper’s scythe. That was a gift for Jorge to admire…to look upon in awe…to covet for his own…

Jorge played the part of the shock lamb, looking at the holy figure and ignoring his own healed wound for the moment to check and make sure that she was okay first. The spots of blood that seeped out from fresh wounds upon her forehead grabbed his attention. At least he didn’t have to put too much heart into pretending he was surprised by it, simply because he was surprised. Still, a chuckle and a kind smile from the woman showed that this was apparently a normal part of her gift.

>> "...'he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds, we are healed'... I am the vessel. Through me, you are healed. It is normal and I heal quickly."

…wow. Okay so maybe she was a little too deep into her religion to understand that this was not just divine intervention but, in fact, she was a mutant. Vaguely he wondered just how much the young woman knew about the world. Did she understand she was a mutant? Or was she to wrapped up in her religion that she could see beyond that? Whatever the case the man knew he needed to humor her others he could lose her favor all-together.

That was a loss he simply couldn’t risk.

>> "... Are you okay? Usually only happen when injury present."

Shaken from his thoughts, the man nodded as he gave her a kind smile. ”I am well. I accidentally injured myself yesterday. That and, I guess, I’m still a little surprised. I had never witnessed such a holy incident before. At least not like yourself.” he said this a bit mysteriously. Turning to make sure that the priest and Daniel were still not within sight, Jorge smirked as he looked back to the woman. ”I believe I have been touched by God as well.”

Taking a step back, Jorge moved over to a basin filled with holy water that greeted people when they walked into the church. With no one around, Jorge stood next to it, raised his hands. Though he didn’t offer a prayer, he closed his eyes as if he reached out to the Holy Spirit. With a wave of his hands over the basin the still waters began to turn. Not a lot. A most it would look as if someone just bumped into the vessel causing the waters to shimmer. However, with a curl of his fingers, the water soon began to react more unnaturally. Like Moses parting the seas, the water bent to the man’s will, climbing upwards, lifting from the basin into a ball of water that churned and swirled into itself. The perfectly spherical holy water continued to spin in mid-air, thanks to Jorge’s gestures with his wrists and hands. And after a moment, steadily, and respectfully, he commanded the waters to return to basin and retain their original stillness.

Jorge took a breath and opened his eyes, turning them up to the holy Mother, and giving her a look of shyness. He could only imagine what she was thinking…

”I am well. I accidentally injured myself yesterday. That and, I guess, I’m still a little surprised. I had never witnessed such a holy incident before. At least not like yourself.”

She flushed from the attention and tried to wave it off again. It was a good thing that Alpheus had worked with quite a bit on how to receive compliments and attention. Had he no, she would surely be struggling with a massive ego right now. Jorge turned to look for something, and curious as ever she mimicked him.

”I believe I have been touched by God as well.”

Her curiosity peaked and she watched him like an owl as he moved away toward a basin of water. Her brows drew together as he lifted a hand and held it over the water.... and then it started to move before her eyes.

With a nearly inaudible gasp, her hands flew to her cheeks and she hurried on over. She was nearly silent save for a slight rustle from her robes, and as carefully as she could she leaned into watch the little show more closely.

When Jorge opened his eyes again he would spot Magdalene with her fingers curled over the basin, hunkered down so she could stare at the water at eye level. It... wasn't exactly an action most expected from her, save for the Abbess who usually just sighed and gave her a firm correction.

Buuuut... the Abbess wasn't there, and what she didn't know couldn't hurt her!

Magdalene muttered a few things under her breath in Greek, before realizing that the water wouldn't be moving again without him stimulating it first. So, with as much class as she could muster she rose from her crouch and clapped her hands together excitedly.

"Magnificent!" A happy flush had overtaken her cheeks, in place of the embarrassed one from before. She dropped her tone to more of a hush, though... lest her guide hear her and come to investigate why she was so happy. Why did everyone seem to have a thing against her being outwardly loud and happy?

"Have not met many like myself! Only a few... Fantastic!" She wanted to hold is hand again. Maybe inspect it a little. Would it be any different than a normal hand? Different temperature? Different texture? She hadn't been paying attention before!

She was so excited, it felt like all of the molecules in her body were vibrating at once!

"... May... I see it again?" She struggled with proper sentence structure for a moment, wanting to make sure she asked in the proper fashion.

It was the simplest of tricks; at least to the experienced watermancer. The man’s powers had developed when he was only 15 years old and had only continued to grow over the years. When the camps happened the man was forced to hide his powers, watching with anger as those who couldn’t control their abilities were forced to starve and practically die in those camps. Jorge, while outraged, did the smart thing and hid his abilities. Still, that didn’t mean he let them get stagnant, he practiced in secret and as the years passed, his control over his mutation had reached a level of mastery that most could scarcely comprehend of. It was no wonder he would eventually take on the moniker of “Poseidon.”

However, for the time being, Jorge simply displayed the smallest fraction of his abilities for the holy figure who stood off to the side. As he made the water part and float into the open air, he could see through his closed eyes (they were partially opened) as she stared at his miracle in sheer disbelief – that is until the excitement took over. Moving swiftly over to the basin, she peered at the rolling orb of water, getting closer to it, unable to hide her genuine surprise and joy at the discovery.

Jorge humored her, though, allowing the water to float for quite a while, just grinning as the young woman’s eyes grew as wide as an amazed child’s. She kept shifting closer until, finally, she seemed to thin better of herself. Taking a step back, she clapped her hands and thus Jorge lowered the sacred water back into the basin. Letting it swirl back into place, Jorge opened his eyes and gave her a soft and knowingly smile – they were both different.

>> "Magnificent!... "Have not met many like myself! Only a few... Fantastic!"

”Not nearly as amazing as yourself, your holiness,” he said with a humble timber to his voice. ”But you flatter me, nonetheless.”

The man knew how to pour on the charm. He knew what words to say, how to get passed a person’s defenses, and certainly how to pull them onto his side. He didn’t know much about the holy mutant and he certainly didn’t know fully what she could do for him, but it was important that she remain at his side. It was important that he make that connection with her and make enough of an impression so that she would view him as a friend; after all, friends are who favors are asked of.

Though his powers were impressive and dangerous, hers were far more effective to get the response he would want. There was only so much loyalty that fear or charm could give him, but hope? Health? Immortality? That was enough to give him loyalty ten-fold. The young woman would be a means to an end but it was going to be a long game and Jorge had to set up the board just right.

As she seemed to come down from her excitement but it was still bubbling behind her eyes. It was a look that the man was extremely familiar with, a look of greed. He tilted his head, curiously, wondering what she would ask of him as she opened her mouth to speak.

>> "... May... I see it again?"

…heh. For a second there he was truly glad that the young woman before him wasn’t a telepath or able to read sin in people’s eyes. Her question, spoke to anyone else, would have probably been taken in a far different manner (this was New York) after all. In that moment, the man stared at her a little dumbfounded trying to process her broken English and her inability to make the sense not sound like a lewd request. However it soon developed in his mind what she was asking for…

”Oh! Yes. Of course,” Jorge said with a grin. He gave another cautionary glance around before he turned back to the basin. Lifting his hand over it again he summoned the water with a gesture. This time he made a more complex shape, smoothing out sides of the sphere of water into something resembling a cube. He didn’t need to close his eyes this time, instead keeping his gaze upon the young nun. ”My apologies for secrecy,” Jorge said a little guiltily. ”Unfortunately much of the world, including America, aren’t kind to people who are gifted with God’s blessing. They want to track us like animals. So we must remain in secret.”

She stared at him while he stared at her, and started to wonder if maybe it had been rude to ask. She ran into so few people like herself and considering her rather sheltered life she often found herself stumbling over cultural no-no's.

”Oh! Yes. Of course,”

Absolute joy filled her expression, and she turned to watch with barely controlled excitement.

”My apologies for secrecy, Unfortunately, much of the world, including America, aren’t kind to people who are gifted with God’s blessing. They want to track us like animals. So we must remain in secret.”

The childlike joy ebbed away a little, replaced by an expression of solum understanding. She knew what he was talking about... she'd witnessed it first hand a few times. She watched the water move about with a small, understanding smile on her face. She wasn't as familiar with the mutant tracking trend, but at least had heard about it. The Father had declined to talk to her about it before the trip, and the Abbess was generally mute on such things.

"No need to apologize." Magdalene started, before finally tearing her eyes away from the show. "I know of what you speak."

She took a moment to reflect on it, seeming to withdraw back into her Motherly shell. Many within her community didn't know what to make of her gift. Some flat out considered it a sin. She had been lucky both in her particular form of gift, and in that Father Alphaeus generally held a different viewpoint on the subject of mutants.

"Have seen it in many places. In some parts of world is still viewed like witchcraft. People are killed. No fancy words from government to hide behind." She could recall quite clearly a man she had brought back from the brink of death once when his village had rallied against him. He had helped them find water sources underground through some type of vibration... They had found a spot for a new well, access to another source of clean water.

His neighbors had turned on him that night, and she had nearly killed herself in bringing him back. It had been the first time she'd discovered the true depths of her power, and the last time she had used it to such an extent.

"Apologies if I made light of your situation. I am lucky, I know this. Not many have the same privilege as I."

She bowed her head slightly, humbled by her own thoughts. "Am hoping that in some small way I will help. Will be good example for all different cultures."