nextgenerationmarvel | Something Wicked This Way Comes

Current Mood: hopeful
Current Location: X-Mansion

Entry tags:

Something Wicked This Way Comes

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” Brooke Wyngarde muttered to herself as she stared at the thick, artistically wrought iron gates that separated the Xavier Mansion from the world around it. “I just…I can’t.” But here she was, sitting outside the Mansion for the last fifteen minutes, working up her nerves to make this next step. Her father had temporarily returned home to England to work on some stuff, and Brooke found that she desperately needed to be around her own kind – and not necessarily the Hellfire Club, even if she was the Red Rook now.

Besides, she needed to learn more about her powers and how to utilize them, and the Xavier Institute…well, that was essentially the Yale or the Harvard of mutant education, weren’t they? Besides, it’s not as though she was here to befriend anyone or, god forbid, join the X-Men. She was just making herself the best possible mutant that she could be - and maybe she'd find some allies on the way.

After all, if I’m going to be queen one day…

Pursing her lips, Brooke let herself out of the car and smoothed down her Nanette Lepore skirt. She let herself through the gates and walked down the pathway towards the front door, her heart beating wildly with each step. She had never really dealt with the X-Men very much before, but her father had been one of Emma Frost’s Hellions, and her mother had never really been too fond of the X-Men. She didn’t know whether or not to expect a welcome wagon, or the Danger Room attacking her somehow.

She was visibly relieved when she reached the front door. After a moment’s hesitation, Brooke finally reached up and rang the doorbell.

Here goes nothing.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Ah." Brooke blinked. She hadn't actually considered that. Her father had given her a very posh little apartment - so much better than the dumpy little one on One Fifth Avenue she'd been sharing with her mother. But truth be told, an hour's commute...

"It's moments like this where I wish I was a teleporter," Brooke said lightly. "Although I don't imagine that would be good for your skin. Or flying, for that matter, though that would also be hell on your hair." She smiled graciously. "I'm sure you can relate to that. If possible, I'd like to go back and forth. Stay here doing the week, go home during the weekends...that sort of thing. I mean, if that would be alright with the staff here."

"I can telekinetically keep my hair in place as I fly. Better for the ozone," she commented back with a slight smile. She could also rearrange it at whim. Stray thoughts sometimes lead to stray hairs, though.

"That would be acceptable," she said diplomatically because what came next would probably be harder for the girl to swallow. "While here, you will be under the same expectations as any student. No personal domestic workers unless you want them to work for everyone. Including some of your instructors who you aren't very fond of."

Brooke nodded her assent. "Of course. I can't imagine you'd want Sharona interfering with the help you already have around here. I mean, her heavily accented, heavily broken English would probably get in the way of your domestics, and we wouldn't want that."

Because, really, with a mansion this big, why wouldn't there be domestics?

Rachel barely managed to contain a bubble of laughter. Though she did before it became an undignified snort.

"No, Miss Wyngarde, you're not understanding it completely. There is no domestic help on campus. We believe in our students here being self-sufficient. In a world that hates and fears you, domestic help is a luxury we can't rely on."

Whatever pleasant expression there was on Brooke's face faded in an instant. "Surely there's a mutant somewhere with telekinetic control over household cleaning products. Or, you know, a mutant with control over dust. Have you checked some unfortunate place like Kentucky? That's where they would likely be born, you know."

It was oh so hard not to smile like the cat who got the canary, but Rachel managed a sense of decorum. Her family history with Brooke's family wasn't so pleasant that Rachel couldn't enjoy this, however.

"No, all the Guthries that are mutants have non-domestic powers. Especially Paige. I've heard stories of her skin leavings." Rachel had a glass of water floated over to beside Brooke. "Telekinetics are trained for things like surviving combat. Fine control of dust motes comes years down the road and is often abandoned for making black holes instead."

Rachel may have been stretching the truth a bit, but it was mostly true for herself. "There is no domestic help here. There is a cafeteria for student mealtimes, but as you're a bit older you'll have access to cook your own food. I think I can sign you up for Remedial Life Skills when we set up your power training schedule..."

Brooke stared at Rachel. She opened her mouth to say something dark and biting to tear the redhead down, but stopped herself.

Just barely.

"Cook my own...but I can go off campus to eat, right? I mean, I don't care how far away Asiate or Butter are, but cafeteria food..." Brooke paused, a lightbulb going off in her head. "How many students do we have living here, roughly?"

"You can go off-campus and spend your money to eat if you so desire. It's your money to spend how you will." Seeing rather than telepathically sensing a bright idea was a new experience for Rachel. Not that she possibly liked the idea coming from a Wyngarde.

"Quite a few. And none of them will be employed by you to do your domestic work."

"No no, that's not what I meant. See, I can hardly afford to hire a gaggle of maids to do the housework at the mansion here. But I could easily find a classically trained chef with a modern aesthetic to provide food for everyone in the...can we call it anything else besides a cafeteria? The Dining Hall. Yes, that sounds far less soup kitchen-y."

"No," she denied the idea flat out.

"Considering massive non-disclosure agreement needed, the invasive background check because there are young mutants here, and the liability of working in a building that can and does get attacked by Sentinels, aliens, other mutants, and vortices, it's not an idea to pursue. You came here for help, Miss Wyngarde, not to run the place or rearrange as you see fit. You come here, you play by our rules."

"I came here for help with my powers not my life skills," Brooke countered evenly. "But, alright. I understand, and I'll play by your rules." She licked her raspberry-glossed lips and added, "Having said that, though, I trust that the staff will do all in its power to ensure that none of the current students will do anything improper to me, considering who I am, and my family's background. Especially where it concerns the X-Men."

Rachel raised an eyebrow, but she was not going to point out Brooke needed a reality check. "Any and all students who come to this school are protected from hazing or bullying no matter what their background or family history is. If you have a problem with someone, as your advisor, I'll handle the discipline as needed."

She leaned back in her chair to be more comfortable. "I should point out most students here do not have an idea about your family's background. It's more the adults that are fully aware of it."

"I assure you, I never have problems with people. It's they who tend to have issues with me. Why, I'm never really sure. I only ever call it as it is," Brooke said, matter-of-factly. "As for the adults, well, I'm sure that we can all be mature about the past. Again, I assure you that I'm not here to wreak havoc or destroy the X-Men or anything. You're welcome to telepathically check, if you don't believe I'm telling the truth."

There will be a quiet knock on the door. One of the other new students has a question.

"I'll have enough chance to check when I'm handling your lessons," Rachel assured. She glanced toward the door at the soft knock.

"It's unlocked. Come on in."

Danielle came in. "Och, sorry. Dinna mean to interrupt. I was just wondering why there was two of everything in the new room, and everyone says there's supposed to be someone to share it, but nobody who knew who that was, and they thought maybe we've an odd number?"

"It's alright, Danielle. We were just finishing up here." Rachel paused. The idea hit her. It wouldn't work to get Brooke to interact with people on a more human level to just be cooped up in a room by herself...

"There's two of everything in your room because we have students double up in the dorms. You'll have someone sharing the room with you. We did have an odd number, but I've just managed to even it up."

Brooke watched the young woman with some mild interest. It was the accent that threw her. She hadn't been expecting that. Then she realized that, unlike the Hellfire Club, this place was one of the only places that non-Club mutants could go to, especially to learn.

Then Rachel's words hit her. She turned back to gape at the flame-haired telepath. "I was really expecting a corner room with a view..."

"There's a verry nice window," Danielle says politely. " 'Tis big enough to get out of and everything."

"Students don't get their own rooms unless they have uncontrollable, endangering powers. As you two have similar power sets, it would actually work best for both of you." Considering both needed Midgard Remedial Life Skills classes. Rachel just had to run the idea by Dani.

"Danielle, I don't remember off-hand, is your room on the ground floor?"

"Aye, it is." Danielle smiled and extended a hand to Brooke. "Danielle Hrimharisdottir." If not stopped, she'll grab her wrist and shake heartily.

Brooke really didn't have time to react to the pleasant young woman, so before she could do anything, she found her wrist in a hearty little wristshake. "Brooke. Brooke Wyngarde. Red Rook of the Hellfire Club," she said, attempting to get her hand free. "The pleasure's all yours, I'm sure."

"Ah. That's good." Rachel pressed her lips together to not laugh at Brooke's handshake dilemma.

"Danielle, Brooke will be your new roommate pending her approval by senior staff."

And eventually, the wristshake stops, and Danielle nods with a smile to Rachel. "Thanks."

Danielle tries to remember what she knows about the Hellfire club.

...Then she tries to remember something nice.

"Oh, do you know Miss Sharon, then? Mummy's told such wonderful stories."

"Ugh, that crazy cat lady? No. Mom never allowed her inside of our house, thank god. The last thing we needed was tacky purple fur all over our dingy Fifth Avenue apartment."

Something Wicked This Way Comes

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)