@worthingtonwings
Bobby’s only done this once before, and it takes a lot of effort. He knows where Warren is, so it’s not too hard to narrow it down. Shifting to ice form, Bobby slowly reaches out with his mind. The last time he did this he had the Apocalypse Seed in him, and it did the most of the work for him. To do this on his own means he has to expand his powers beyond any current horizon they can view.
But after about thirty minutes of trying, he can feel it. He can feel his mind in the pool outside, in the stream a few acres from the property. Slowly but surely it expands, like a virus he can feel himself infiltrating every bit of water. It’s not too long until he finds that glass of water he’d requested, and once he’s got his mind there reforming his body is simple. A man of ice appears in the kitchen, and quickly turns to a man of flesh and blood. “War?” he calls out experimentally. “I would love a robe or something. Standing naked in your kitchen isn’t my idea of fun when you’re in the middle of a crisis.”
HE’S BEEN SITTING IN HIS CHAIR nursing a glass of scotch. focused eyes narrow in on his hand as he swishes the amber liquid around in the glass. only he’s not looking at the drink, he’s looking at his fingers, noticing the deep blue that still paints his digits. he hates it. it’s another reminder of what he is --what he could be-- and another reminder that this transformation may not be permanent. what would happen if archangel reared his deadly head again? bobby’s in danger and it’s too soon for warren to know the extent to which “the professor” had fixed his mind.
“over here.” he calls out, knowing full well that there was no stopping bobby once he had his mind on something. he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and trying to create a facade of togetherness. “robes --yeah they’re in the closet by uh --by the pool. sorry i’ll grab one now.”
