Spiders 'n Ice || Closed RP
Bobby stared at his hands.  The sun was just beginning to rise, throwing an eerie light over Central Park.  Aside from the rare jogger and the occasional bum, he more or less had the area to himself.  âCome onâ he thought to himself.  âItâs like riding a bike. You slid around for six years without any incidents, thereâs no way you forgot.  Itâs all just muscle memory.âÂ
With a deep breath, he took off his shirt and jacket, folding them neatly and stowing them in a nearby tree.  He closed his eyes to turn his body into ice, and began inspecting his hands again.  Was it his imagination, or had the organic ice turned⊠ Clearer, more crystalline since the Stay?  He shook his head, banishing the thought.  He couldnât risk anything that would constitute doubt, Xavier had always taught him that self-doubt was the enemy.  Besides, his memory on a lot of things pre-Stay was fuzzy, there was no reason to chalk up this translucency to anything but that.
He experimentally pointed at the ground, freezing the turf beneath his finger.  He flicked the finger upwards, sending the slide into the air.  He took in a breath and held it, willing his nerves to settle.  He backed up about thirty feet, kicked off his shoes, and took a running start, slipping forwards on the ice, and throwing himself into the air.  He hadnât forgotten, and sliding felt as fantastic as ever.
Piper paused at the top of the hill in Central Park, and stared.
She had come here to read and drink hot apple cider and relax, for once, in warm clothes and not spandex vulnerable to the icy wind, no matter what she wore under it. She hadnât planned on the park being occupiedâŠ
Especially by what looked like a boy made of ice, creating MORE ice, standing buck nekkid in he middle of the snow. He didnât show, persay; but still. She blinked and hesitated. He looked familiar. Where had she seen him beforeâŠ??
Bobby laughed happily to himself as he indulged in a bit of childish fun. Â He'd never been a good ice skater growing up, but that was the thing about having the power to manipulate ice: it kind of became a part of you (sometimes literally) after a while. Â He pirouetted in what he thought was a rather graceful spin, nearly falling flat on his face when he saw a figure on one of the nearby hills. Right, this is exactly what he'd taken to coming to the park early in the winter to avoid - other people. Â He looked down, and if ice could blush, well, he would have been, upon realizing that he wasn't really wearing what could be considered decent. Â Not sure what the etiquette was in this case; that is, if he should call out or not, he instead just sprinted back to the tree in which he'd stashed his gear, pulling on his clothes but retaining his ice form, before turning back to the girl on the hill. "Uh... Â Any chance we could keep this between you and me, then?"Â
