nextgenerationmarvel | ice slides aren't as easy as snapping fingers.

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ice slides aren't as easy as snapping fingers.

Bobbi was sitting up in a tree watching the snow melt in the afternoon sun, the area around her stayed cool enough so she wasn't getting dripped on. Her hoodie was tied around her waist so she could stretch her tiny wings a little at least.

In her lap was one of her text books, Biology actually, it was the lower level of the course, a little more advanced than she was used to, but the challenge was fun. Problem was the teen kept getting distracted. The water dripping onto the icy cave she had made kept making her watch it instead of work on her homework. Wasn't like it was do in the morning though, Bobbi had two days to get it done.

Slipping the book into her bag she thought a moment about one of the news clips she had seen with Iceman. There should be enough moisture in the air... wonder if... She pulled the bag over her shoulder and crawled to the entrance of her 'cave'. She was only four feet off the ground, even if she couldn't form one the fall wouldn't really hurt her.

Bobbi held a hand out closing her eyes to focus, took about fifteen minutes for her to make a small thin ice slide, the area for about ten yards around her had dropped twenty degrees in the attempt.

scooting over to slide down... Well Bobbi Angelus found herself on the ground on her rear. The ice slide had been waaaaay too thin. Once the initial shock wore off she fell back on her back laughing.

((Other students at the school feel free to make fun of her. ^_^)

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"Well, at least you can laugh at your own failures," Brooke replied. She was standing a few feet away from Bobbi, huddled in a forest green cashmere wrap dress and a cropped fur coat. Her cheeks were rosy from the coolness of the day, and there was a look of mild disdain on her face. There was really no reason for it, but there it was. "Hopefully you can keep it up for the rest of your life."

"Well in a controlled test, if you can't laugh about it you won't think back to see what you did wrong." Bobbi grinned deciding not to get up yet. After all it had been a soft landing. "And didn't get hurt so there's a bonus. But ugh that attempt was tiring, maybe there's not enough moisture in the air..."

"Fair enough," Brooke replied. Of course, back in high school, she usually had a mental breakdown when her experiments went wrong in the chemistry lab. She liked to stay one of the top students at her high school, and failing chemistry lab would've hurt her grade a little severely.

Thank god her powers had kicked in when they had.

"Wait until the summer when it's more humid," she added. "Lots of moisture to pull from." She paused. "Or wait for New York Comic Con. Sweaty fanboys all in a room." Brooke visibly shuddered. "Lots of unsavory moisture to pull from."

"I'm still going to keep trying since I like the cold. Besides it shouldn't be that hard when I can drop temperatures around me colder than this." She sat up brushing the snow from her hair. "And I'll pass on the fan boys. They're all scary. Some of the things they're into... Yeah no thanks!" She stood completely pulling her bag strap over her shoulder.

"Not that I blame you on that last point," Brooke replied. She shifted her weight from one Prada-clad foot to another. "So, what's your parentage? Famous mutant parents? Less famous mutant parents? Baseline-born?"

She shrugged. "I think Dr. McCoy was still trying to figure it out, though he said Mom and Dad weren't Mom and Dad." She will admit she kind of zoned out on a lot of it even if she did like science biology wasn't a strong point.

"Probably still have the results print out in my room actually." She notes the outfit. "You know any salt on the walk ways are going to ruin those shoes right? And they don't look that comfortable. Don't you have problems moving in them?"

Mom and Dad weren't Mom and Dad? What did that even mean? "So, you were adopted?" Honestly, that meant she could be anyone's.

Brooke looked down at her shoes and shrugged. "Barneys is getting their new spring stock in soon anyway, so it's not as though these were too long for the world." She'd probably pass them along to her maid Sharona, who would probably sell them on Ebay or something to help finance her tragic pierogi habit. "Beauty before comfort," she added, as though it were preposterous to think any other way. "After all, running shoes aren't everyday wear." They were meant for one's own personal in-house gym.

"No... Maybe, I don't remember too much more than a few years ago. They said I was in an accident and it's why we moved to California. We were in New York before that... I think." She's been searching the net and can't find anything in the searches from the snippets she remembered.

"I'd rather go comfort first. What's the fun of looking pretty when your feet are killing you from your shoes, and you're afraid to move because you're scared you'll get something spilled on your clothes? Not to mention those don't look like they'd hold up in a soccer field."

"That...sounds difficult." And it did. Not remembering much of the past or anything...Brooke could feel Bobbi's confusion.

Practically literally.

"I grew up on Fifth Avenue. We learn how to walk in heels from the moment we're born, and...well, we never really leave the area." Except for when you enroll yourself at a mutant high school to make yourself a better mutant. "You've never worn heels before?"

More so when she finds out the past she knows was given to her and she's a LOT younger than she looks. "It's okay, I mean it's just memories I lost, it could have been worse."

She shakes her head. "Well not that high. I had a pair that were a half inch for formal gatherings for Daddy's company, but I hated them. And only time I wear a skirt was the uniforms for my old school. Hated those too, hard to climb a tree in a skirt."

Brooke can relate to that a little, having found out just a few months ago that the man she had thought was her father was actually a complex illusion created by her mother. Lies. Brooke hated them. "You could be dead." Yes, it was morbid, but it was also true.

"A half inch is hardly a heel." Granted, Brooke's heels were four inches high, but she'd gotten used to wearing them that high. The only times she'd really worn flats were when she'd been in high school, and that's mostly because wearing four-inch high heels was frowned upon by the headmistress. God, but this girl was so different from Brooke. Climbing trees, not wearing skirts... Brooke hardly ever wore pants, and the only things she climbed were social ladders and sweeping staircases. "Please tell me you didn't wear a skort instead." Jeans she could forgive. A skort? Never.

"Exactly."

"It felt like it to me. When there's no snow on the ground I try to get away roaming around barefooted." She grinned. "Especially after a rain storm because mud always feels weird." Yeah, she's so not going to be fitting in with her papa's social group at all. "And ew no. Those are incredibly tacky. I'd just wear the boy's uniform, unless I was ordered to wear a skirt. Then I'd be grumpy all day."

Roaming around barefoot.

Even at the beach, Brooke tended to wear ridiculously high heels. Unless she was going into the water, but that was a different story.

Brooke smoothed down the skirt of her dress as she listened to Bobbi. "True, but you could trend it up a little. Just because you're a tomboy doesn't mean you can't get some cute athletic stuff from Lucy. Even if they're operating under the misguided notion that capris are still at all a relevant thing to wear."

Don't knock it until you try it Brooke, it's awesome.

"Trends change so fast I'll stick with jeans and tees. At least I don't have to be careful about not ruining them."

With all that sand that gets everywhere, sea gulls that can't find another place to perch, and the sick smell of people barbecuing sub-par hot dogs close by? No.

"Yes, well, there's a reason why they were originally worn by factory workers," she drily said. "Jeans, I mean."

The water to play in, the fish to watch in their habitat, barbecue!

"And that's bad why?" She grins a little. "Daddy always says hard work's good for a person."

Pass. If she wanted well-cooked meat, she'd go to Butter, like a normal person.

"I'm not saying it's bad, I'm just saying it's neither classy nor ladylike." She considered that. "Well, sure, but the kind of work that's hard depends on a person, how they were raised, and what environment is most natural to them. What might be a breeze for me might be hard work for you, and what might be hard work for you might be something beneath my social standing for me."

She laughed. "Jeans have some class though, all the actors and actresses wear them when they're not on the red carpet."

"So what if it's below social standings." Aw, Bobbi doesn't get that too much.

"I really wouldn't turn to the trainwreck that is Lindsay Lohan for fashion advice," Brooke said. "And let's be honest, actors and actresses? They're not classy. They're nouveau riche." Which was true. She wouldn't ever accuse Lindsay Lohan or Kristen Stewart or Channing Tatum or Simon Williams of possessing class.

The only exceptions to that rule were Grace Kelley and Audrey Hepburn.

"I'm a Wyngarde," Brooke said. Okay, technically, she was a de la Rocha, and she wasn't sure how much power that name held outside of the Hellfire Club, but still. "We might not be the Astors, Vanderbilts, the Worthingtons, or (thank god) the Frosts, but that name still means something." Not a whole lot, considering Brooke's family didn't have the intense history that some of the previously named families did, but she wasn't about to let that get in her way. "We don't do menial labour."

Edited 2012-10-27 03:55 (UTC)

"Ew she's as tasteful as escargot and caviar." Both things that Bobbi had tried once before and hated the texture of. "I wasn't meaning American Actors. They're all fake." She'd know she had lived in California. "English actors though, they still have class."

One name in the list caused her to look up. "Worthington... He's the other one with wings like mine isn't he? Only they're different." Hey! Someone had payed attention a little with some of the texts she had been handed to read, though she frowned a little. "Maybe you should. Wouldn't make you as stuck up." Oh it was tempting to freeze her shoes to the sidewalk, though Bobbi thought she'd get into trouble, last thing she wanted to do was get the upper class mad at her.

Hope more people here are like Rose and not her. The thought made her give a small smirk, it wasn't really that cold, and someone needed the lesson in humility right?

Bobbi cooled the air around their feet with a small thought, the snow forming ice sticking to the shoes as Bobbi turned to head in. "I should get this assignment done."

"I never actually developed the taste for escargot," Brooke said. "No matter how much of a delicacy some people say it is." Caviar on the other hand was something that Brooke tended to enjoy from time to time.

"Angel. One of the founding X-Men." And a ridiculously handsome man back in the day. If only he'd been younger, or Brooke had been older...

"Stuck up? I'm not stuck up. I simply have standards, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that." She felt something colder near her feet and looked down, her eyes growing wide as snow and ice started to grow over the sharp, pointy toes of her suede, wine-coloured Prada shoes.

"Hey." Brooke's eyes snapped up and she reached out for the girl with her empathic powers. Guilt. Brooke had felt guilt before, and she'd use her knowledge of that emotion to this girl into realizing that she'd done something terribly mean to her. "Stop it."

And Bobbi would be grossed out if she knew Brooke had a crush on one of her biological parents. "I remember which one." She flicked one of her stubby little wings to remind Brooke she'd have a reason to know.

"Standards that are too stuffy let loose a little."

Bobbi froze mid-step when the wave of guilt hit her. "Not my fault. Guess I should have warned you, I don't have complete control, be glad it's just the shoes, they're ugly anyway." Bobbi didn't turn around, afraid that she'd break into a giggle fit if she faced Brooke.

"You just think they're stuffy because you can't possibly live up to them," Brooke retorted, trying to move from where she was stuck. "Granted, I wouldn't expect someone like you to know or understand fashion. I mean, where did you get your last haircut? Petsmart?" She narrowed her eyes at the girl. "If you know what's good for you, you'll let me go."

And the hair comment had Bobbi turning around, her eyes going dark a moment. "There's nothing wrong with my haircut, it's perfectly styled to be messy thank you." The air chilled a little more, though she managed to stop it from being dangerous. "And what you'll make me? I only froze the shoes, not my fault they suck for cold weather."

Though if Brooke tried to move her feet again the shoes would shatter oops.

"The words perfectly styled and messy don't go in the same sentence. Messy isn't perfect," Brooke countered. "I mean, if you're going for the raggedy snow rat look, it's working out really well for you." Without skipping a beat, she continued, "Besides, these shoes cost more than you'll ever make at whatever tragic fast food restaurant decides to make you their glorified little worker monkey. I suggest you unmelt all of this or I'll have to have words with Rachel and Doug about your misconduct with your powers, no matter how much you are or aren't in control of them." After all, not being able to control them is how things like Dark Phoenix, Malice, and Goblin Queen tended to happen.

Her eyes darkened again for a brief moment and she walked away. The air warmed at least the ugly shoes were free. "Call me a snow rat again I won't hold back."

With that she turned walking down the path. Part of her wanted to run, but she needed to calm down before she got near others, last thing she really wanted to do was hurt someone. Annoy them was one thing, Brooke hadn't been in any danger, she had made sure it was just the tacky heels that she messed with.

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ice slides aren't as easy as snapping fingers.

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