(2014-07-24) So You Want to Build a Snowman
So You Want to Build a Snowman
Summary: Headmistress Frost decides to try a little motivational demonstration with Bobby Drake.
Date: 2014-07-24
Related: NA
Scene Runner: NA
Social/Plot: Social

"Ah, good afternoon, Mister Drake. Please, come in. Have a seat." the platinum blonde Headmistress offers, as the door swings open ahead of Bobby's arrival. Of course it does, because the telepathic Ms. Frost would know he was coming long before he arrived. And she has apparently placed tiny devices on some of the items of her office - and probably her quarters - that react to psionic energy projection, enabling her to simulate telekinesis, though she lacks that power herself. "I do hope you had an enjoyable summer break. How was your time with your family?" she queries, as if being somewhat social with her students is completely normal.

Bobby Drake smiles sheepishly as he walks in. "I'm fine, Ms. Frost. Thank you. I hope you were able to enjoy your time without us." He takes a seat. "My parents are fine. I spent most of my time with Jada and her family in New York City." He looks around, trying not to be nervous. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Actually, Mister Drake, the intention her was to help you." Emma offers, with just the tiniest hint of a smile touching her lips. It must be an interesting mental quandry to face a woman who is such a consumate ice queen, when one is a metahuman with a gift for ice itself. "You have done well at the Academy so far. But I believe you have great potential that you have not yet fully realized. I wished to take the chance to speak with you about that, to perhaps seek out the reasons you have failed to excel up to your potential, and address those issues." Wow. That's ominous /and/ vague. Scary, right?

Bobby Drake blinks slowly, now more scared. He thought this was just a post-break social call. "M..My potential?" He looks to the woman oddly. "Am I failing? I thought I was doing alright. My grades are good?" He doesn't understand what the woman is talking about. She couldn't be talking about his powers. He makes snowballs.

The Headmistress shakes her head, just slightly. "No, no, Mister Drake. You are not failing. I assure you, were you failing we would have met long before now, and it would not have been nearly so congenial. Please, do relax. This is not somehow about you flunking out, or being in any kind of trouble." There can, sometimes, be downsides to cultivating the aura of power and determination that Emma maintains. Some students just don't bear up well around that domineering aura. "This is about your other potential, Mister Drake. Your genetic potential, if you will." Sounds like she does mean his powers. Snowballs, hunh?

Bobby Drake blinks slowly, taking everything in. "Genetics?" He thinks. Obviously it's not about breeding. "Is this about… my powers?" He asks, eyes squinting, unsure. "I don't think I have a potential. I make ice. I make snow. I don't think there's much more I can do with that." He has noe clue what power level he trull does have the potential to reach.

"Yes, genetics." Emma affirms, offering a wintry smile to the young man. She nods just slightly when he finally clicks over and realizes the point in question. "I beg to differ, Mister Drake. If I felt you had no potential, we would not be meeting like this to discuss it. Nevertheless, I believe that makes it clear why you are not yet achieving the climb towards your potential: you don't see it, or believe in it. Isn't that so?"

Bobby Drake shrugs. "I also don't see a need for it. I'm not Power Woman. I'm not even Lexxie. I'm not here to save the world, I just want to control this so that I don't freeze someone's hand when I first meet them." He shrugs. "What else could I possibly do?" he grumbles.. "Besides place an entire kingdom in a permanent winter and lock myself up in an icy fortress.."

Emma Frost, original Ice Queen, is unimpressed with Bobby's self-deprecation and lack of confidence. Hence the slightly arched pale blonde eyebrows. "Mister Drake. You have completed your basic coursework in understanding metahuman powers. I'm sure you are aware that as such, moments of heightened stress and emotion can lead to sudden spikes in power levels. If I tell you that your potential is far, far greater than you have yet tapped into, then I believe you are also bright enough to understand that your power's potential lies beyond the levels to which you have yet trained to maintain control. Your very simple - and quite understandable - goal could be rendered quite sadly moot, in such a circumstance, all due to lack of preparation. Would you not prefer to avoid that?" Hey. Look at what Elsa did, because she kept denying her powers all that time!

Bobby Drake sighs and sits back. "So, what you're saying is, that even when I think I have this controlled, I don't, and I probably won't be able to lead a normal life." He shakes his head. "Well.." He swallows, watching his tone, not trying to sound insolent. "What do you think I should do?"

"Since you asked …" the Headmistress offers, clearly taking Bobby's statements, his question, as permission for … something. Her eyebrows furrow slightly, her pale blue, icey gaze going slightly unfocused, as her mind reaches out, and reaches /deep/. Amazingly deep.

Bobby's first realization is when he notices that he is no longer really in control of his body. His eyes, at the moment, don't move at his whim or will. Neither his hands. Instead, he can feel a cold, sure, certain presence cohabitating with his mind. No words are spoken, but a thought that is and is not his own floats across his consciousness. . o O (Allow me to show you, Mister Drake.)

The temperature in the room doesn't just drop; it plummets. Emma's form, across the desk, exhales misting breath, and a light rhime of frost descends over her. The chair beneath Bobby is completely covered in the stuff. His head tilts down, eyes taking in as his entire body doesn't just coat with ice, but hardens and freezes, /becoming/ ice.

The entire room starts to ice over, as Bobby's body stands up from the chair - now a regal-looking throne made of ice, with the sort of detail one would expect of a sculptor - and moves away. A blade of ice forms in his outstretched hand, and then it changes color, as he can feel a burning rush of intense, fiery cold flowing out from him at his - or rather, at Emma's - will, tempering the keen blade of ice to something glittering hard and sharp. It looks like what it is: coldpack, the kind of ice that lies at the heart of Antarctic glaciers.

As a final moment of demonstration, Bobby's ice-form body leaps with impossible strength and agility - propelled by muscles of ice, not flesh, answering to will, not purely biophysics - and the blade whistles through the air … cleaving keenly through the ice throne, and the chair within. Including, as he looks closely, the cleverly disguised reinforced steel core of the chair, apparently prepped for those who weigh far more than its outward wooden frame could ever have handled.

(Open your mind to the possibilities, Mister Drake.) O o . comes another thought that is, and is not, his own.

Bobby Drake blinks, a bit bewildered at what he sees. "M.. Miss Frost? How did I… did you… do that?" He looks around, in awe of the ability.. "And how can I do it again?"

The thoughts Bobby wants to speak still pass, but do not - initially pass his icy lips. Emma's response comes to him, as have her other comments so far, within his mind, thoughts that are and are not his own. . o O (I did so, using your body, your powers, and my imagination. I confess, you will probably have a headache and some exhaustion, after this, as your body is not used to pushing quite this hard.) Awww. She actually cares! Imagine that.

(I cannot quite let go, just yet. You do not yet know how to restore yourself from this. But, I believe I can teach you. That is, after all, what we are here for, are we not?) O o . There is a sense of humor to her words, as she responds. Then Bobby will feel a deep concentration fall over him, greying out much of his awareness of the world around him, focusing his thoughts inward, towards his power.

(Instead of freezing water around you, I froze the very water of your cells. And, just as you are able to control the ice you create, I controlled your ice body beyond the capabilities of your fleshly form.) O o . That sense of Emma's will gathers Bobby's will, showing him what she did, and guiding him, bit by bit, to reverse the process. Letting go of the intense, ferocious cold is easy enough, and the blade and other ice will fade simply enough, sublimating to gas without his will and power to maintain them. His body reverts more carefully, more slowly, but it does revert, and as it does so Emma shows Bobby how and where within his mind to exercise his will to do so, and thusly how it was done in the first place. . o O (It will take a great deal of practice, to build up your reserves so that you can do so more easily, and with less fatigue. But we /can/ and /will/ show you how to reach for greater potential … if you are willing. All it takes is an open mind, and the will to see it through.)

Then, at last, as Bobby reverts to himself, ice rhime falling off him to the carpeting, Emma's sense within him fades, and she shakes herself a bit across the desk. "Good thing I prefer to wear a jacket, even in summer." she comments wryly.

Bobby Drake looks over and blushes, reminding himself to keep his eyes locked on hers and to not travel… elsewhere. "I.. I'm sorry for any discomfort… but… Wow.." He says, looking around and placing a palm to his forehead. he looks at the chair again, still broken, seeing that what he just experienced wasn't some form of illusion. "I.. I actually did that? Well, we… I don't want to take credit, but… I'm *capable* of that?" He thinks, then turns. "Miss Frost… That's great and all.. I mean, it's awesome but… I *know* that I'll use math later on in life. What will I be able to do with these abilities once I leave the school?"

Emma's answer is perhaps not what Bobby is expecting. Except, of course, that what she offers is the unvarnished, direct, biting truth: that's an Emma Frost trademark, there. "Whatever you wish and will, Mister Drake. As much, or as little, as you choose. If you master your abilities, then you have the option of choosing how, when, or even if you will use them. If you do not master them in all their potential, then your options become limited by virtue of your limited grasp of them." Those ice blue eyes of hers sparkle at that. "Ice sculpture. Arctic research. Ice samurai bodyguard. Or perhaps you might choose to simply be … an accountant. But someday, something might happen, and you might wish to do something about it. Someone you care about might be in danger. And you, Mister Drake, might then have the potential to lend aid, when no one else can. But only if you maximize your potential, and give yourself the option, the /choice/." She's not advocating 'superhero'. But reading between the lines, she's not calling that a fool's errand, either.

Bobby Drake grumbles. "We have too many folks trying to do good out there, that I'm believing that they may be making up some of the bad." It's obvious in both his body language and his psyche that he seems to have an issue with the abundance of costumed vigilantes that have shown up lately. "Well, at most, at least if I can fully control every possibility, then it will be easier to ensure that I can't put anyone in danger through ignorance." He nods. "Thank you, Miss Frost. I apologize for not noticing this sooner. Now I have something to think about when I'm training in the Danger Room." He looks around. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Headmistress Frost's lips lift at the corners just slightly, the hint of a smile. And then gone. "No apology is necessary, Mister Drake. Often, what we most need is someone else's perspective, a chance to look at ourselves, our situation, anew. As an educator - your educator - that is part of my job. I am pleased to have assisted. That will be all for now. But should you wish to discuss this in the future, you are welcome to come see me again."

Bobby Drake nods and swallows. "I.. will. Thank you again. Welcome back." He says, before turning and heading out, his head swimming both from the exertion and the possibilities.

Office 1 - Xavier Mansion
This is a generous sized office. The lower half of the walls are a burnished blonde wainscoting with the upper half decorated with a pale blue multi-hued colored textured wallpaper. Covering the floor is a plush carpet that matches the wallpaper.

Tasteful landscape paintings hang in a cluster on the right wall and against the wall to the left is an eggshell white fabric-covered sofa with another painting hung above depicting the New York City skyline.

In front of the office door are a couple of wingback chairs in eggshell white that face a gleaming neo-modern chrome and glass desk on which sits a holographic projection monitor and other desk things. Behind the desk is a white leather chair and a broad credenza decorated with plants, personal photos and books, beneath the wide window to the outside, flanked by two hutch tops.

*Obvious Exits:
* [O] - North Office Suites - Xavier M

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