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✺ a pyromaniac by selection ✺
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[Y/n] was the newest admission to the Charles Xavier School for the Gifted. Her terrified mother and father had surrendered her much too quickly to the debilitated man with curious eyes after she had unintentionally set fire to their dining room table. In their defense, it's not really something most people see every day. It's a pretty short story actually...
[Y/n] very clearly had a difficult day at school. Her parents just happened to be a bit too much more interested than usual. They just wouldn't accept "fine" as an answer and insisted that she clarify the issue.
After continuous grilling, [y/n] had nothing left on her plate to distract herself. She slammed both clenched hands down into the dining room table cloth. Beneath her closed hands crackling flames fanned out. "Enough! I don't want to talk about it!" she shouted, her [y/h/l] hair erupting into a burning blaze.
Her parents both spluttered in exasperation. The very noticeable rings of fire intertwining [y/n]'s fingers made it obvious to the there that something odd was going on.
She flailed her arms in panic, trying to put out the flames that should be hurting her in ways that they weren't. "My hands! They're on fire!" It was shortly after she set fire to the drapes that the doorbell chimed, diverting her attention further from the incredible fact that she just escaped what should have been burns to a severe degree.
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[Y/n] could coincidentally always be described as a girl with a "fiery personality." She was quick to lose her patience and even quicker to speak her mind; some could call her a short fuse.
She had heard hardly anything of the mutant race before being introduced to an entire school full of them that day. In fact, she had no reason to believe that mutants existed at all.
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After a couple of weeks of individual training and assessment, [y/n] was welcomed to her dorm room and given a schedule.
There was only a small group of children at the School for the Gifted that went out of their way to make new students feel welcome. Something about no one lasting very long ... whatever.
Those few students included three teens around [y/n]'s age - the group seemed to be fairly new as well - who she was beckoned by to sit with during lunch. A girl with an interesting choice in hairstyle introduced herself and two other boys as Rogue, Bobby, and John (who insisted on being called Pyro).
"Pyro?" [y/n] asked. "As in fire?"
John scoffed, "Duh. Pretty bad ass right?" he finished with a smirk.
Before [y/n] could respond, Bobby cut in. "Bad ass, huh? He can't do shit without that lighter there in his hand."
Rogue tried to hide a snicker behind her hand while [y/n] just chuckled openly. "Man," John gritted through his teeth. "She's not used to all this mutant stuff, she'll be easier to impress."
"You know, I don't have super senses, but I'm not deaf." [Y/n] looked John in the eyes and tried to conceal a grin as she sat. "Oh, and I'm not unimpressed . . . I just can't relate." She snapped her fingers and a flame spread across her palm. She'd made more progress during those fourteen days than she'd thought.
John looked baffled. "No way! There can't be a chick at this school with the same ability as me. That's, like, breaking the rules or something!"
"Does it count as the same ability if I've got it much better?" [y/n] asked with an innocent infliction in her voice.
She rose from her spot with her tray and smiled at both Bobby and Rogue before shooting a wink at Pyro. Then, [y/n] turned on her heel and proceeded to walk away without looking back, her hair sweeping behind her. She didn't really know where she was going, but she had always had a flair for the dramatic.
-686 words
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This chapter is much shorter than what I usually plan on writing, but I'm less used to writing imagines than I am longer stories.
