xp_logs | Yvette and Namor | A Discussion of Depths

Yvette happens across Namor at the Lake. They talk of cleanliness, obvious things, and service.

It was a cold wintry day, the sort of day that had most of the mansion's residents inside, staying warm. Yvette, however, found the cold - as much as she could feel through her thickened skin, any way - refreshing, and she'd taken herself for a run/climb/scramble through the woods. It was her way of getting away from it all and relaxing, loosening her control on her powers and, as Fred would say, let it all hang out. The walk back to the mansion, past the lake and through the rose garden, served as a sort of meditation to get things back under control.

And that was how it happened that Yvette was walking beside the lake when she noticed a rippling on the surface of the water. Intrigued, she stopped and watched, wondering if one of Forge's old mechanical toys had somehow been lost in the lake and now reanimated itself.

The first sleek, black hints of the emerging curiosity almost affirmed the girl's initial assumption, but soon proved just to be a trick of the water and light. Hair gave way to a head, which in turn gave way to a clearly human figure surfacing near the frost-rimmed dock. The sight was still curious: the teen was clad only in a pair of short trunks in stark juxtaposition to the weather and, instead of the right and normal course of those near docks, was rising vertically in the air without the need of a ladder or shore. The boy started to shake himself dry once completely out of the drink, but froze shock still upon noticing the figure peering across the edge of the lake.

Namor remained that way - shoulders back, chin poised regally upward - as he locked eyes on the red figure. Some stray moss clung in his hair. It may have all been very undignified, but nothing of his posture spoke of anything but command. His tone held the sneer his countenance wouldn't betray, "Your lake is filthy."

Yvette blinked, a slight change in the intensity of her eye glow betraying her reaction. "Well, it is a lake," she pointed out mildly. "And a winter one, at that. Most people tend to be using the swimming pool, this time of year."

This was met with the flattest of stares. Namor drifted closer toward Yvette; his incriminating gaze and statuesque pose never breaking as he waited for a more acceptable response.

Yvette may have rolled her eyes. It was impossible to tell, given her mutation. "My name is Yvette. Yvette Petrovic," she said, falling back on politeness since he wasn't. "I do not think we have met, yet?"

Namor crossed his arms as his eyes narrowed in accusation. "You, Yvette Petrovic, are digressing." His accent hung onto her name for longer than strictly necessary, stressing the vowels as if to get an appraising taste of them. "I am Namor, Marquês de McKenzie, of the House Agon."

There was a pause as if he was either letting the title sink in or, perhaps, grasping for manners in its wake. The young man let his posture soften, but never broke eye contact. "Good day, Yvette. I would have remembered if we had met. You have a beautiful name."

"I am the memorable sort of person, yes," she replied with wry humour. The fact she had developed a sense of humour about her appearance at all was a sign of how much she had matured during her time at the school. "And thank you, for the compliment. You are Princess Crystal's relation, yes?"

"Correct. Her Royal Highness is my cousin by my father." He gestured idly as if to wipe away this statement as a bland matter of fact. "Tell me, what is it that makes you so memorable?"

This time, Yvette's surprise was obvious, as her mouth dropped open and she blinked owlishly at him. "Um," she managed at last. "The red skin? The spikes? The glowing eye thing? Most people tend to remember people who do not look normal, yes?"

Namor frowned sourly, "Appearance is the refuge of those who have nothing else of value to give."

That confused her even more. "You... you do not think that I look strange, then?" she asked, almost helplessly.

"That would be like stating the sky is blue," his words dripped with condescension, "Or that it is unusual for someone to be swimming in a frozen lake."

"Oh." Yvette was nonplussed at that - of all the reactions she'd had to her mutation, blase indifference certainly wasn't one she'd had before. "Of course, if we are speaking about the obvious, if one is swimming in a frozen lake, one should expect to be dirty, yes?" There was a hint of amusement in her voice - if she'd taken him completely seriously, she might have been annoyed, so she was taking refuge in her sense of humour, once again.

Namor's eyes widened in the sort of righteous disbelief only teenagers could muster. "How dare you moc--" He paused, catching himself for once, and took a deep breath in rare self-collection. "My uncle once told me that people are much like the ocean," he paused, gesturing cautiously, "or like a lake. There is the surface, but also drifts and flows. Those are what matter."

His Uncle, of course, had stated this much more eloquently and would have been frustrated in the way Namor steamrolled on, not settling on any deeper implications. "The lake has an overabundance of macrofauna and collected silt. The other plantlife is decaying because there is no flow. It is disgusting."

"Your uncle sounds like the very wise man," Yvette observed, tilting her head slightly as she caught the play of reactions - since she had to be so guarded with her own body language to avoid shredding people and property, she tended to be aware of self-control in others. "And you may be right, about the lake - I do not swim, myself, so I never really go near so much water, up close. Perhaps we could talk to the groundskeeper, Fred, about cleaning things up?"

Namor nodded, satisfied. "That will do for a first step." He stretched languidly, flakes of creeping frost flaking off his skin. "You still haven't answered me, Senhorita Petrovic. What makes you memorable?"

Yvette resisted the urge to reply, 'Apart from being a walking Ginzu display?' and considered his question, idly picking some dead leaves from the spikes of her hair. "I suppose, at this time, it would be X-Corps. I am the Red-X liason for the school." She looked up at him curiously. "Did Crystal ever talk to you about the Red-X program? She was very involved when she was with the school."

"Crystal told me lots of stories when I was younger, but the details have run together."

"Well, it is part of the Red Cross, but for young mutants to be trained and get involved in the rescue and humanitarian works," Yvette explained. "My job is to recruit and help with the training, here at the school."

"So you work to promote unity and goodwill for mutants through service and charity. Noble." Namor arched an eyebrow, calculating the impact of a mutant service organization, "Crystal has increased Attilan's aid to the Red Cross since she returned, but in no way quite that political."

Namor laughed in recollection of his cousin's stories, "Although I'm not positive how riding dinosaurs counts as service."

"Sometimes it is service, sometimes it is about avoiding becoming the dinosaur's lunch," Yvette agreed with an answering smile of her own - when Namor laughed, he sounded much more like the teenager he was, than the titled royal he projected. "If you were interested in learning more about the Red X, you could come back to my office once you have cleaned the lake off yourself? I have the much information about what we do and how a person might join..."

Her companion shuddered. While he couldn't feel the cold, Namor was still bare-chested, covered in lake scum, and in a pair of quickly freezing swim-trunks. The ice forming on his wings made them itch. "Another good idea." He smiled genuinely, "Senhorita Petrovic, you sell yourself short. You are a person of action."

"We cannot have the Marquês de McKenzie, of the House Agon freezing himself into being sick, can we?" she replied, with a brightening of her eyes. "Please, go and have the shower and get warm again. I can meet you afterwards." With tea, she decided. Lots of hot tea, to counter the freezing. With him swimming at this time of year outside, she'd assumed he was cold-proof -- which he was, but having ice on one's skin/rather delicate feathers was enough to make even the most impervious skin crawl.

Namor nodded, "Thank you for your concern, Dona. I have a change of clothes in the boathouse. Do you need an escort back to the Manor?"

"Thank you, but no. I will be quite fine." That mischievous spirit entered her again and she bobbed a rather satisfactory curtesy. "Thank you, Namor. I will have the kettle on when you come by."

Her gesture was returned with an automatic low bow of the head, but nothing as exaggerated as Yvette's playfulness. These appropriate displays of respect were expected by the Royal.

"Until later." Namor floated off toward the boathouse, leaving Yvette once again to a quiet, frozen afternoon and her own thoughts.