(A/N: Ok... here's the deal. This takes place with the X-Men all at their current age, though Psylocke and ArchAngel have had a child. The child is Beth. Blah blah blah, I don't own these people. Minus Beth. I pwn her! XD Joke. Anyways. I know it's awkward due to timelines... but bear with me...Please?)
"I'm twenty three years old, Dad, and still you won't tell me who killed my mother twelve fucking years ago?!" Beth was practically screaming over the phone at her father, who was simply holding his head and closing his eyes. It'd been a few weeks since she spoke with him, and since her mother's "death date" was today, she had figured she may as well call Mr. Worthington. He'd always been so hesitant about talking to Bethany about Psylocke's death. Despite it being her mother, he knew that if she found out her mother had been murdered by the hands of someone like Vargas; nothing good would ever come of it.
Yea yea, Beth could read minds, but her father knew her well enough to know how to block certain areas of his own. Besides, she drew lines at family and close friends. But still, the violet-haired girl was persistent. Her mother had died when she was eleven, and it was kept quiet, in terms of details, around her. Hell, even Xavier refused to tell her who did it, especially now that she was discovering her powers more in depth.
"Fine..." She said after a moment of silence between the two, "I have to go anyways. Class starts in twenty". And with that, she hung up the phone. Beth stood at a height of 5'9, and had a much toned body. In many ways, she physically resembled her mother. Long, deep purple hair, even inheriting the mark of the Crimson Dawn across her face, as well as deep blue eyes. Well, the blue eyes were from both her father, and her mother.
She'd lied though, as Xavier had given her the day off from teaching her psychology class. She hated getting special treatment, but the day would give her time to relax and get her head together. Standing up, her hand snatched the simple, black elastic band that rested on the bedside table, her sleek, silver cordless phone perched upon it, now charging again. Lazily, she put her hair into a sad excuse for a bun, a few strands of hair framing her soft face. Something made her pause though. It was that silver necklace that rested on her bedside table as well. She only took of the simple cross necklace when she was nervous, and even then, she'd play with it in her hand. The cross never left her sight, as it was a gift from her mother before she had gone on a mission with the others, and was ultimately killed.
Not right now. Pushing the thoughts out of her head, she quickly clipped the necklace around her neck, and walked across the dimly lit room to the door, pausing to look around. Anyone who looked into her room would likely utter something like, "Great, teen angst but without a budget". And it was true. Her room was gothicesque, with a soft, purple carpet, canopy bed with ivories and blacks draped over the thick black quilt and satin sheets. The walls were a grey color, a simple mahogany desk across from her bed, a silver laptop placed upon it, though shut now. A printer rested beside that, with stacks of students' papers, waiting to be graded, and some already so. Her large closet was across the bed on the other side of the door, a diverse wardrobe ready, as well as her X-Men costume, repaired more times than she could count. And that was pretty high.
Sighing, she opened the door, walking into the hallway and locking it behind her. It was purely instinct. The halls of Xavier's Institute for the Gifted were bare, now that classes were in session. Walking down the hall, she passed numerous doors, where the students and other teachers slept. She'd spent most of her life in these walls, and knew every nook and cranny there was. Her hands slid into the pockets of her baggy jeans, a black belt holding them up. Her top was a simple white tank top that fit loose on her, though exposing her stomach slightly. Yawning a little, she hopped down the stairs, heading for the kitchen on her left. Again, it was empty. Ah well, it gave her room to play at least.
Opening a few cabinets, she scrounged for some food, deciding on a bagel. She opened the previously untouched bag, and a disgusted look came upon her face, noticing the mold that covered the bread. "Oh bloody hell..." she muttered in her usual English accent. Just what she needed first thing today. Sighing, she tossed the aged bagels into the trash, almost jumping when she heard a voice, "Finding everything you need, Cherie?" A smirking Remy LeBeau leaned against the frame of the door. His thick Cajun accent was indeed a hard one to mistake for anyone else. Though her back was to him, she didn't even turn, "Well if it isn't the 'Ragin' Cajun'". A sarcastic smile crossed her rose lips as she turned her body halfway. It was quickly replaced with an angry scowl, "Leave me the hell alone". Remy chuckled a bit, pushing back his silken brown strands of hair from his chiseled face, his trademark 5 o'clock shadow resting peacefully there as well, "Looks like the little Brit's woken with an attitude". Beth simply rolled her eyes, opening the fridge and settling for a bottle of water that rested inside. At least THAT couldn't be moldy.
Opening the bottle, she took a sip, letting his comment slide. She'd let him walk away with his balls intact for the moment. Ignoring his presence entirely now, she pushed past him and headed for the living room, Remy sighing and giving up, heading outside, or somewhere, to cause more trouble. What a great start to the day.