AoA: Looking for a Fight

October 06, 2017:

Emma and Lorna run into eachother, bot in a temper.

Somewhere in NYC

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Jean

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Lorna was pissed. Her anger clouding her mind enough that when she asked Rogue to give her a bit, she hadn't really considered what she was doing or where she was going. The green haired mutant was dressed in much of what she'd worn since she'd gotten to this world. Steel toed boots, and a leather jacket over some otherwise plain looking jeans and a T-shirt. Only, being Lorna, there were now dozens of tiny little metal objects that lifted off the ground and hovered in the air around the magnokinetic.

Anger hung just as visibly, her hands clenched, her jaw squared and a glare on her features that could curdle steel beams. She had managed to power walk straight out of the rather manicured and polished surface of Mutant Town into another section of the city. Where? She didn't know. Nor did she overly care.

This was a girl looking for a fight with anyone willing or dumb enough to push her buttons.

*

And perhaps it's a lucky random happenstance that one Emma Frost, newly unleashed upon the world at large after a brief couple of days in mostly voluntary captivity, happens to be here.

She still wears most of what she did when Lorna saw her last. Sensible, flat heeled, knee-high boots. A grey coat too warm for the season. Fitted pants. A new shirt of a raspberry hue. A gauzy black scarf that billows just so when she moves.

And it's certainly not that she's stalking the new "visitors", right? Right. And she just "happens" to find Lorna, and her radiating fury. Right. Riiiiiight.

Not that she says anything, mind. No, instead, she simply reaches out that mind of hers and nudges it just so. Turn her way, it encourages. Pay attention. See Frost.

And, with hands tucked deep in her coat's pockets, Emma waits to see what the rage ball with verdant tresses does.

*

Lorna didn't take much of a psychic nudge. Oddly she had no protections against such prodding. Unlike everyone else in this world, it would seem. But then again, she typically traveled alongside Jean. And when one of the world's strongest telepaths was your bestie, people didn't mess with your head all that often. So the green haired mutant twisted around on her booted heels, spinning rapidly with a scrape of her boots against the pavement.

Screws, nails, loose scraps of metal liquified at the sight of Emma and a snarl pulled on Lorna's lips. Her eyes narrowing at the sight of the blonde woman standing none too far away. "You." She hissed.

And just as if a switch had been flicked Lorna had found a new target to center her rage on. Emma had left Jean, Nate and her in the park. Just before War had showed up and stolen Nate away. In Lorna's mind? The blonde was guilty. Was at fault for her friend having been taken.

Without further words, Lorna released a sound of anger from the back of her throat and flung the little bits and bobbs of liquid metal at the telepath. Her hand shooting out in a clenched fist of anger and rage.
*

Metal is flying towards her. So much metal.

You, Lorna Dane accuses. Emma Frost does nothing to deny it. And why should she?! She is, after all, precisely who she is accused to be. Herself.

Herself in so many wonderful, new ways. And she will not apologize for it. Not even to this girl, who'd she'd abandoned to her fate because what else was there to do.

There's nary a word as the blonde simply tucks her chin down a little towards her chest, coyly. Defiantly. There is only the closed-lip curl of her mouth as a devious smile grows.

She stands, and she waits. She waits until all of that horrific metallic death is hurling towards her, is nearly upon her.

And then, there is a gentle and nearly serene sound of twinkling, like tiny icicle chimes. And the woman is naught but faceted, crystalline surface, curling in just enough to cover her facefor there is something to be said of reflexes that were very much needed up until three days agoand to resist the harder force behind them.

And, once that first barrage is past, she looks up over her crossed forearms with a smile still on her lips.

*

The green haired mutant didn't stop her assault in rage, didn't pause or halt as she ran at Emma, closing the distance between them. All the while she drew hard on the mishapen magnetic fields. Then came the tinkle of metal hitting.. crystal. And Lorna paused, her eyes narrowing as she fumed in seething rage. Another shout of anger followed and Lorna threw everything she had in an electromagnetic blast at the woman.

Metal had failed. Realistically, the woman should have paused longer, thought and regrouped.. but she didn't. Her hands thrown outwards as she directed everything that she could gather at the smiling blonde.

The sewers below groaned, and what metal still remained on the streets jumped toward them. Caught up in the pull of Polaris' magnetic fields that swirled and eddied around her in a chaotic mess of her emotions.

Ferrokinesis does nothing against the organic diamond; the once-blonde cannot feel it's pull. "Does that feel better?" Emma asks once it passes, voice strange but undisturbed and unheated. She looks to her coat, where several holes have been pierced into it. And then she looks back to Lorna. "Do you know how hard it is, still, to come by coats like this?"

Booted feet take a few steps forward, even as the ground begins to rumble and shake.

"I would advise," Frost continues at a greater volume as she bats aside a piece of signpost, before slipping out of the coat to reveal the raspberry, puff-sleeved blouse beneath, "that you get your temper under control, my dear." The ruined garment is left on the sidewalk as she moves forward towards Lorna. She lifts her arms again under a new assault of debris, and this one sends her back a couple of uncertain steps. "You're fighting the wrong person."

*

Lorna gritted her teeth together as she struggled to hold back the panting breaths that threatened to take over her. Throwing magnetic blasts was.. draining to say the least. And would leave most people steaming piles of … mess. So as her hands tingled with the after effects of pulling on so much power, Emma had her chance to step forward. While the metal debris around the street continued to hang in the air, it wasn't actively being thrown at her while the blonde stepped forward.

Green eyes watched, anger still hot in her gaze. "Screw you. You left us, you left Nate to get kidnapped." She heaved, but Emma's words had struck a chord.

Pietro had been the one to set her off. Pietro had screwed over this reality's version of her. Why was she taking what happened to another version of herself so hard? It was personal.. but not.

It was likely due to how many times Pietro had written off her other self was crazy. Continously pounding in that word that still made her react violentally and spiked her temper.

Still, not one to ever really acknowledge the root of her anger, much like most of her family.. Lorna threw one last attack at Emma. This time she threw her hands out, and rather than throwing metal, brought it slamming from either side of the street to wrap around the woman. Her hands closing tightly together as she tried to catch Emma mid-stride.

Polaris stood, there, the rest of the junk and metal scraps that hadn't piled onto Emma had fallen. Her anger fizzling out. The Profess in her world was forever lecturing her to not draw on her anger alone..

*

'You left us.' Why bother denying it? Emma does not offer anything in the way of explanation or apology. "I did," she confirms of a shared perception of reality in that regard. "And to do all over, I'd do it again in a minute."

She lets Polaris catch her, bind her in that warped metallic monstrosity, the metal creaking and protesting against something even harder.

"Are you done yet?" she asks, voice tempting the edge of irritated yet nearly mild in comparison to the maelstrom of one Lorna Dane. But, should that encroachment upon her space slow, should it grind to a halt as Polaris's temper cools… Lorna will find a very different problem.

Because Emma can simply wait until then to turn back to flesh, and strike. Take advantage of the uneasy mental state in the other woman. Cause blinding, distracting pain.

*

Lorna's anger seemed to remain, but as Emma continued to remain cool, calm and collected.. without giving the enraged mutant anything else to go on? Lorna's temper ebbed. Not at Pietro, and not at Emma, but the heat behind it. The pressure of electromagnetism that had burned hot and bright inside her since she'd left Magneto's happy home, had eased. She was no longer on edge of exploding.

The metal remained tightly wrapped around Emma however, Lorna might be slightly less looking for a fight now, but was making no excuses for her behavior either. She'd just been told Pietro had flubbed the genetic testing for this world's Lorna Dane. That she, and this world's Lorna, was still Magneto's daughter, but had been written off as simply 'too crazy' to keep around? Those thoughts spin wild in her mind. Blaring and loud to any telepath.

The green haired mutant was pissed and just as likely to rip the Triskelion out of the sky than she was to go back to it. She had been spoiling for a fight, and she'd found one. But she was no longer escalating it.

*

This world is not fair. No one would argue that. Especially the mutant who lets herself turn back into a creature of flesh and bone. Who breathes again, or struggles to do so in the metallic wrap about her.

"Put me down," Emma commands, pale blue eyes decidedly more irritated now that she's actually uncomfortable. And then her telepathy stretches out to Lorna. Reads her. ….and is completely unmoved to forgiveness for the indignation.

*

Lorna hesitates, even as Emma reverts to her fleshy form. She wasn't a telepath. She could demand answers but they would be useless. She was a rotten judge of character when it came to whether or not someone was telling the truth. So with a sigh of irritation, Lorna let the metal fall away with a wave of her hands. "Fine." She muttered, and the chunks of metal that had made up the Emma burrito, fall away.

There was little point in keeping up her attack, it wasn't doing anything. And Emma was clearly less than impressed by her attempts. Lorna grumbled under her breath, straightening as she stood there, and glanced down at the destruction she had wrought on the otherwise simple street.

*

…Well, that was easy. Ish. As she's released, the blonde drops down to a knee for a brief moment to catch her breath. Get her bearings. Reshape a plan.

"I will let your little temper tantrum slide," Emma begins anew, once she's done that, she lifts her head to peer out from behind the tousled blonde tresses that cover the right side of her face. "This time." She pushes herself back up, eyes never leaving Magneto's progeny. "Provided you can tell me where your Jean Grey is. As I am assuming you've not yet recovered the other Grey."

*
Lorna pursed her lips, folding her arms as she eyed the telepath, taking a step back to give the kneeling her space. There wasn't, again, any point in not telling the woman. It wasn't like Lorna could lie, or hide what she knew. She really needed to have a chat with this world's Magneto about his helmet.

"Jean is on the Triskelion." She exhaled a breath. "And no, we don't have Nate back from War. And another horseman has been around too." Another one of this world's Jean Grey's children. Apparently, her Jean Grey had told her as much.

Family dramas aside, Lorna had lost interest or connection enough to care beyond getting Nate back. But even that had become a close second to her desire to locate this world's version of herself.

Her jaw creaked as she rocked her weight back on her heels, waiting and keeping her eyes glued to Emma's figure.

*

"Well, then I'd like to be of assistance," Emma says, her lips back to smiling once more. Although, this time the smile is a little more strained. "You see," she continues, subtly rubbing at an unhappy rib as she speaks, "there's been something of a change in circumstances."

*

Lorna frowned faintly, but shrugged, waving a hand in the direction that the ship flew over New York. "I'm sure they'll be very happy to have you. I'm not going back. I have no intest in going back. I'm sure Jean will eventually come looking for me and try to convince me otherwise." She tapped the side of her temple. "And she'll likely succeed because she's one of the few people I count as a friend." Her voice was dry and her eyes narrowed.

"In the mean time, I need to go find this world's version of myself. So unless you have any helpful hints on where I can find her, I think this is where we part ways."

*

In another world, there are easily a hundred stories that end terribly because the alternate versions of themselves were acquainted. Emma has never really read such theories and thus leaves the plan uncommented upon.

"Ah, if you think we must," Emma retorts, a hand sweeping oh, so generously in the opposite direction of the way indicated to her. "Best hunting."

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