1964-10-22 - Ice Queens
Summary: Hellboy and Magik follow up on Baba Yaga's attack
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
emma-frost illyana 

The sculpture is called 'The Mist'. A woman's face and hand poking out of swirling fog, all cast in bronze. The artist was Russian, Anna Golubkina, an assistant of Rodin. Illyana is not generally one to seek out art, but this piece is on loan from the Russian Museum, and while she has no great fondness for 'The Fatherland', she still appreciates those in her homeland who work to put the truth of Russia to paper or stone, music or words.

But something in this piece in particular speaks to the young woman. The figure looks peaceful, but to Illyana she's clawing her way out of something that is trying to pull her back, and that… that she can empathize with, that she can understand. So she continues to stare at the bronze casting, trying to figure out what's really happening in front of her, what was happening in Golubkina's mind when she made this.

(The Mist: http://en.rusmuseum.ru/collections/the-sculpture-of-the-xviii-early-xx-centuries/artworks/tuman/)

"You know…" comes a thoughful voice from behind the young Russian. "Most art evokes a single emotion, or sensation…an atmosphere. But I find sometimes the art piece that sticks with you is sometimes the one that evokes different interpretations depending who views it. In that, it becomes a reflection of ourselves. For good or ill." Emma Frost, for months the absentee co-headmistress of the school steps up beside you. "What do you see, Miss Rasputin?" she wonders.

Illyana turns slightly, her eyes studying Emma for a long moment, before she opens her mouth. "A woman trying to claw free from darkness that engulfs her," she says, her voice flat along with her affect — little emotion showing in either one. "Quite a personal interpretation, I suppose, and perhaps not what Golubkina intended, but not one to which I think she would object."

Emma nods slightly, her icy eyes meeting yours as you glance at her before looking back at the sculpture, her hands clasped behind her back comfortably. "I woudl have said a woman emerging from chaos…the things that held her back, that kept her from defining herself as an individual. Similar, I suppose." she museses, shrugging slightly. "But I think the best artists are content to let their work be taken for what the viewer wants. A wealth of different viewpoints. It's not nearly as fun when one tells you it only means one thing as they saw it."

The other woman considers the yougner next to her. "…how have you been, Illyana? It's been a while."

"She was brilliant," Illyana observes, her eyes returning to the sculpture. "I don't know very much about art, but Rodin would have her do the hands of his sculptures because of her talent." Her hand stretches out toward the one slowly emerging from the sculpture — not to touch, of course, she's not that uncouth, but possibly, inwardly, in an unconscious attempt to help pull the woman free.

"I've been fine," she adds after a few moments. "It has been busy, but isn't it always? That's the nature of what we are and what we do. Friends are returning home, and that is always good."

"Friends, hmm?" Emma says softly. "I'm not sure it applies to me, but I've been away far too long, either way." She purses her lips thinly. "Some things have slipped that I should have been here to deal with." She gets a faintly irked expression, her eyes flickering with supressed emotions for a moment. "It's good you're still there…"

The corner of Illyana's mouth rises slightly, the faintest show of emotion. The girl can be quite expressive when she wants, but she can also shut down her emotions so nobody knows what she's feeling. She's letting the facade crack just a little here. "And what has slipped so much?" she asks, her fine blonde brow arching slightly. "The school abides, Miss Frost."

Emma is quiet for a moment, then says simply. "I met Lorna the other day. She has been treated…shabbily. All but abandoned, when she is desperately in need of not just an education, but emotional stability, considering her abilities." Her voice is cool now. "That never should have happened. I certainly did not bring her to Charles to have her forgotten about. Even if she had chosen to not return, she should not have been left to her own devices, especially with her father off doing who knows what instead of doing his job."

Here Illyana's brow furrows. "You'll have to forgive me, Miss Frost," she says, turning toward the woman, "but Lorna chose to leave the school. She decided she didn't fit in, and she wanted to develop her relationship with her father. I tried to talk her out of it. I told her we are always there for her, that there are people there who love her. But she is an adult, and the Professor has -many- students to care for. She told you that she was abandoned? The only one who abandoned her was her father — she elected to abandon the rest of us."

Emma says steadily. "Her father deserted her months ago, and no one was aware, because no one checked. She feels that she has been rejected by those at the school, that her friends have turned against her because of her previous behavior. That they do not forgive her for it. Especially, apparently, Wanda." She lifts her chin slightly. "…she damaged a coffee shop yesterday because her emotions, her depression, has grown so deep, that she's starting to lose control of her abilities. which have grown much stronger in my absence. And you knows, Illyana, just how powerful she is. Imagine what would happen if she lost control on a grand scale." Her voice is clipped. "I should have never trusted her father to raise her. That is my failure, but she shoudl not have been allowed to be…lost, to this extent."

Illyana slowly releases a breath, a long, drawn-out sigh. "You -have- been gone too long," she says drily. "I have not rejected her. Her friends have not rejected her. I have never felt there was anything for which to forgive her. She's developed new friends outside the school, and I certainly don't begrudge her that. Personally, I had to put down an insurrection, and spend the last two months hunting down escaped demons. She left us, and we had to keep on saving the world without her as a result. And I still love her. But under the circumstances, sometimes a person needs to reach out, rather than making assumptions about the motivations of others."

"Yes." Emma says, not disagreeing. "But sometimes people are so caught up in their thoughts, those downward spirals, where, left on their own, they'll just keep focusing on the worst possibilities. Until it's almost a certainty in their mind what will happen will be disaster." She folds her arms under her chest, frowning quietly as she meets your eyes directly. "And when it is tied to unfairness…not yours, or perhaps her friends, but her father…her general circumstances…it's easy to turn to anger. To rail at it, to lash out."

She breathes in, chest rising and falling as she lets it out in a slow breath, before saying more steadily. "I cannot speak for what has happened when I was not here. Only what I feel from her now. I am…irritated, even if I understand why. I just don't agree that she should have been the only one who could reach out first."

"I was not in a good position to do so," says Illyana, "but I agree, others could have. Truth is, I don't know who her other friends at school were. The Professor is always busy — moreso in the last few months than before. I'm sure he'll hold himself personally responsible that he wasn't there for her when she needed him." She raises a hand to her own temple. "And I'm sorry if I'm coming across defensive. I don't like the idea that Lorna didn't feel she could reach out if she needed me."

Emma mmmphs, then reaches up to pinch her nose the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for a moment. "…if you are defensive, it is because I am accusatory." she says with a sight, lowering her hand. "I am not trying to lay this at your feet, Illyana. I am just…" Her mouth twitches. "…irritated." Another person would say upset, but Emma just doesn't feel the depth of how much this bothered her needs to be broadcast to everyone around her. "I know Charles is always busy, and I am sure, from the sound of it, that you had your hands full. And I have only heard these from Lorna's perspective; I freely admit given the depths of the way she's twisted her thoughts that it may be a disorted view of events. Perhaps it's simply that Lorna was one of my students at the Academy first, and I feel more responsible for her than for others."

Illyana nods slowly. "I was your student too," she observes, "though I was the Professor's first. Whatever the case… I will try to check in with Lorna, see if I can help her. Before the next insanity engulfs me." Her expression is wry. Insanity seems to happen every other week these days. If that infrequently. "Thank you for letting me know, however."

"…very good. And thank you for allowing me to make you the target of my venting." Emma says, a faintly wry tone in her voice. "And yes…you will always be my student Illyana. If such a thing should come to pass that you separate from the school…remember that will never change." She hmmphs, then then sighs a bit. "Perhaps you could tell me something of what's been going on, in fact? I…haven't yet gone to the school. I had things to deal in town first." And is perhaps slighty avoiding meeting certain people. Not that she'd admit it.

Illyana nods. "I know it, but I have no intention of leaving the school, especially now. All of my classmates, the New Mutants, seem to be coming home. The school is more my home now than it has been in years." She slowly turns away from the statue — her attention has been more on Emma in the last few moments, certainly, but her body was turned toward the work she was admiring so much. "There's been a concerted effort to bring in mutants in danger. Some of those missions have gone better than others. Logan went missing for a while. I mentioned my own issues with the soul that tried to take my dimension…" She shrugs. "Typical Xavier School insanity."

There's a faint snort from Emma. "Of course. It's never simple." she says, with faint amusement in her voice. "Mmm…but it's good to know that people are being proactive there. I always felt we were too reactive; too focused on responding to problems, rather than heading them off in advance. I know Charles prefers to give people the benefit of the doubt and to rely on sweet reason over action, but…" She mmms. "…Logan will be back. He always comes back, whenever he's done with where he's at."

"He is back," Illyana agrees, "but he'd been captured by people who were holding him in tremendous pain. Jean was livid. He probably would have been able to escape on his own — he is Logan — but it might well have taken a very long time."

Emma narrows her eyes. "And do we know who these people are? And where they are?" she says, in a cool tone. "Where we can pay them a visit, perhaps. Or was that already dealt with?" she asks, glancing back to the sculpture herself. It does draw the eyes, after all.

"I believe they've been dealt with — Jean is not very forgiving when people hurt her friends," Illyana observes. She turns her eyes back to the sculpture in turn. "I will have to return to Russia if only to find more of her work," she notes. "Golubkina had amazing eyes and hands."

"Good." Emma says, a faint cold tone in her voice, before she smiles more pleasantly. "Hmm, perhaps there will be another exhibit soon….but then again, it's rather easy for you to travel there as you wish." Her tone turns a bit more chiding. "Though not by yourself, of course. There are those there who would consider you a valuable 'prize'." She lowers her arms to her sides. "Well then. It's been good talking catching up with you, Illyana. If you happen to see Charles before I can make it over there…please tell him I'll make my way there in good time. Enjoy the rest of the exhibit." She inclines her head almost regally, before she continues down the exhibit floor, her heels clicking lightly on the tile floor, before she vanishes from view, a last little wave thrown back in Illyana's direction before she does.

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