icecoldfrost: (I can kill you with my mind)
Classes were done for the day, and while normally Emma would be doing some stupid group team-building project with the other students in her human development class, she was skipping whatever stupid feel-good heart-to-heart nonsense the teacher had come up with this week. With an excuse! ...kinda! Candy was coming over once she was finished with work tonight so they could practice for summer internship interviews. Which meant Emma was putting away her groceries and prepping to make an utterly ridiculously large amount of tacos.

Look, she and Candy were growing girls. And they were not going to give in to the self-hate of the American media and body-image magazines. Because tacos. They were not just necessary to live, but to deal with the stupidity of the human race and their male counterparts who were jostling for the same jobs and complaining about how it was 'unfair' that the girls had the 'advantage' of being female.

No, Emma hadn't been experimenting to see if she'd suddenly developed psychokinesis last week in class, why did you ask? Really. Setting someone on fire with her brain, while potentially therapeutic, wasn't actually helpful.


[OOC: Open for calls, texts, you know the drill.]
icecoldfrost: (Elegant Emma)
After Emma had seen Christian off on Saturday, she had gone back to the hotel, shut her door, turned off the lights, and gone to bed.

There had been no sobbing, hysterics, or screaming at the world about how unfair it was. She had taken a shower, washed and dried her hair, put on her pajamas, and gone to sleep. Sunday had been spent sitting on the bed, doing her readings for the next week since portals on Sunday typically cost more than on Tuesday, and Emma was trying to save on her trips back-and-forth to Fandom.

But this was Monday, and Monday meant certain social obligations had to be met after she had called into her Monday fencing class, faking a cough for the professor's answering machine. If there was one class she could get away with skipping, it was that one. She was already more than adept at her chosen sport, after all, and had been acting more as the TA than a general student for the last few semesters.

But it was still Monday, which meant appearances had to be kept up in between bouts of homework and manipulating the stock market. Hair brushed and styled, fashionable pantsuit, adorable shoes. And, of course, the New York Times.

A girl had to have priorities.

[OOC: Open for calls/texts/etc before she heads over to the Nest for the afternoon/evening.]
icecoldfrost: (Hellfire Club)
This year's Yule Ball at the Hellfire Club was even more exclusive than usual, and that was saying something. The fact that Emma had scored an invitation - and hadn't forged it, thank you very much - meant that when it had arrived in the mail, it had sealed which party she and Jack would be attending on Christmas Eve. You didn't get an invite to the Yule Ball and stand them up. She'd penned her regrets to the other invitations, and that was that.

And the Club itself was bursting with light and Christmas cheer. The tableau vivant from the charity ball were back, but this time they were scenes of Christmas and morality plays.

Well, as much a morality play as it could be, when the angels were practically wearing see-through gowns, but it was the Hellfire Club. The roaming carolers were dressed, mostly, the holly and the ivy were hung, and mistletoe was strategically placed about the building.

There was spiced cider, roasting meat, and networking with the city's elite, all within the traditional Victorian atmosphere that the Club boasted. Only the elite members wore traditional garb, as their guests dressed in their modern best.

Enter the Club, and do as ye will but harm none, on Christmas Eve.
icecoldfrost: (Hellfire Club)
It was a box that Leland put on his desk, and Shaw raised one eyebrow in silent question.  

"The Frost girl," Harry answered bluntly.  "Bloody hell, Shaw, you could have warned me that she was a slippery one.  I'm not quite convinced she's real after all this."

it's like she dropped off the grid for years. )

"For now, we invited her to the Yule Ball, let's see if she takes the bait."  Shaw smiled and Harry Leland shook his head in amusement.  "Time to see if she's up for the slightly more sordid side of Hellfire."  
icecoldfrost: (I have a hat)
Emma had had a very very early morning layover.  In France.  A France.  She wasn't quite sure when or what world, but either way, it meant she'd found delicious delicious breakfast. 

For all of them. 

This is what happens when people let her keep her keys.  Not that a lack of a key would keep her out of anywhere she wanted to be, she was Emma Frost, but it was the thought that counted. 

The boys would get up eventually, if only because she was brewing some of the good coffee.  If the scent of pancakes, sufganiyot, waffles, and bacon didn't wake them first.  But for now?  Coffee, a spot on the couch, and back podcasts from the radio and occassionally going 'what the hell?' 

Sometimes Emma was very very glad she didn't live on the island anymore.

<small>[OOC:  Open for texts, phone calls, former-housemates/crashmates, visitors, yes!]
icecoldfrost: (Waiting for My Moment)
Thankfully, cell phone technology had finally started to explode and Emma could carry her phone without worrying about breaking timelines and technology. And between recent Fandom events and Karla's stupid message, she wasn't going to leave it back in her apartment.

And the moment her phone had buzzed with an alert that Portalocity was up and running for her dimension, Emma had telepathically tweaked her classmates (and teacher) for her evening psych class to think she was still there, and took off. She got as far as the bathroom before she yanked the phone out, swearing in an impressive multitude of languages before she got what she'd been hoping to see;

Reservation Confirmed.
Round Trip: Timeline 616, New York, 2002 AD, to Fandom Island, 2012 AD
Thank you for choosing Portalocity for your travel needs!

Of course, the damn booking client was down again moments later when she tried to make another trip reservation. Whatever. She'd worry about that later. For now, Emma was just going to skip the rest of her classes for the week and go surprize her boys for Hanukkah. Yes, she was a little late, and no, Kaidan wasn't Jewish, but she was pretty sure neither of them would care if she showed up with food.  But she had to get back to her apartment and grab her go-bag now if she was going to make her portal.

[OOC: Establishy!  Dun dun dun!]
icecoldfrost: (long hard night)
Emma Frost was bored, desperately needed a study break, and had beat all the levels of Angry Birds on her phone.

No, let's back that up and tell the truth: Emma Frost was lonely, drunk - she'd stolen a bottle of 151 from the store since she couldn't afford to buy it - and bored. She'd finished her homework for the week, and her readings, and there weren't any grad students doing experiments going on at the psych labs to watch.

...what? You had your entertainments, and Emma had hers. And she didn't have a television.

Which was why she was currently drunk-calling/texting people while cutting out the articles from the various society pages about the Thankful Virtues event. Especially the ones that mentioned her.

[OOC: Open post! If you think she called or texted you, she did.]
icecoldfrost: (cherry lips and)
Given that whatever holiday plans Emma would have made for herself had been thwarted by Portalocity, she had two options:

Twinkies and Hamburger Helper with Hank, whom she'd have to remind that it was Thanksgiving, or accepting an invitation to the Hellfire Club's annual - and tre exclusive - Thankful Virtues Costume Ball & Charity Dinner, which had arrived in the mail at her PO box. Hello, she lived in Brooklyn. Like hell she had anything important sent to her apartment.

And no, staying home alone and eating pasta with basil and balsamic vinegar for dinner (again) was not an option, which meant that Emma Grace Frost needed a dress. Which her student lifestyle would not afford her.

So, Emma had done what Emma did best, waltzed into the most exclusive stores downtown, the type that only carried ONE of each dress, and when she finally found something she liked, she stole it using her powers.

Rather like she had for another party, many years ago, which had set her on the path to Fandom in the first place and was why she was here today. Although that one hadn't *technically* been a Hellfire affair.

So now she was standing at the top of the grand staircase of the New York Hellfire Club, waiting to be announced and trying to resist adjusting the sheer veil covering her face and hair. She'd take it off later for dinner, but she had an entrance to make.

"Miss Emma Grace Frost," the steward intoned, and Emma's chin went up imperceptibly as she stepped forward. "Representing the virtue of 'Chastity.'"

Oh, the irony. It was strong here, amongst the rich and privileged members of the elite, all of whom had come costumed as 'Humility,' 'Temperance,' or 'Frugality.'

Look, she hadn't seen her boyfriend in far too long. She could be a bitch and make the entire damn club look and not touch if she wanted to. Considering some of the other costumes floating around, she was downright demure tonight.

This was, after all, the Hellfire Club. This might be one of the semi-public parties open to non-members, but that only meant that the more salacious bits were taking place behind closed doors.

For now.

[OOC: Open in the OCD for calls/texts/etc. NFB, as usual.]
icecoldfrost: (The White Queen)
"This is not acceptable!" a dark-haired woman shouted as a vase met an untimely end against a wall. "There is a telepath in New York; a young, female psion of great promise, we've known about her for years, and you've done nothing to reel her in as you said you would, Shaw. She should be mine by now."

We upset her tidy little sense of safety at that boarding school of hers by leaking her location to the sister, and in the process learned a great deal about what Miss Frost is willing to do in the name of self-preservation )

"Now," --a serving girl entered, eyes on the floor as she carried a tray with a bottle of wine and glasses to her masters. "Let's work on real business, Selene, and cease your tantrum. How goes your 'Nova Roma' project?"

[OOC: Emma's been cut-off Portalocity-wise as of this post! Phone/email still work (for now) but no one's getting in or out of her universe.]
icecoldfrost: (hard at work)
It had been the best place Emma could find with the little she could afford as rent and her unwillingness to have a stranger as a roommate. Sure, in ten years Bed-Stuy was going to be very hip, but this was now, and it was still Brooklyn. And it was still costing her a fortune at $650 a month. At least the brownstone her studio was in was in good repair, and Emma's little room had recently been redone, with new paint and windows, to better block out the noise of the street.

And despite the fact she'd only been there a few weeks, there were books everywhere. Emma was taking a double course load - again - and was doing her best to ignore the increasingly distracting texts that Jack kept sending her so she could focus on writing her paper on Dewey's philosophy of education against current teaching trends.

Yes, this is what she did for fun. And maths. Maybe it wasn't too late to add a maths class...

[OOC: Open for calls, texts, and an unexpected visitor!]
icecoldfrost: (telepathic high)
I've got a few days near the end of summer where I may need a hand, so Emma's looking for a TA, despite class being at the Community Center!

So! What, exactly, would you be getting in to?
What are psionics? How do they work? And what can you do to keep someone out of your head?

Looking at the different forms psionic manifestation can take, Emma Frost will dispel rumors, educate, and attempt to teach some manner of psychic etiquette to those who lack innate abilities. This class is for beings of all levels and familiarity with the subject matter, talented or headblind, and everyone is welcome.

Emma knows you want to learn how to keep her out of your brain. Don't deny it; she can hear you. And you. And, yes, you.

She's going to do you one-better: She's going to show you how the game is rigged, why you'll never win, but how you can cheat like hell and not end up in the situation in the first place. Class will cover telepathy, telekinesis, precognition/clairsentience/clairvoyance, how to spot a faker, empathy, the astral plane, and other topics as requested.

That means Emma needs An Example to use during some classes. DUM DUM DUM!!!

So if you're interested, drop me a message here! Comments screened, questions will be unscreened.
icecoldfrost: (devil in a red dress)
The sun had barely begun to set when the house on Apocalypse Avenue lit-up like a small supernova. Each of the zombie lawn gnomes each had their own little candle in a cup, and the walk up to the house was strewn with fairy lights between the trees.

In the backyard, you would find wine, mead, fresh fruit, sparklers, and pretty much anything else required for your midsummer solstice party. There was more food in the kitchen, of course, and rather than the traditional bonfire, the residents had rigged their own burning sun in the center of the backyard.

Merry meet and welcome on the longest day!

[Open! If you think you got an invitation, you did! Townies, students, alumni, teachers...all welcome. Up ridiculously early for maximum SP.]
icecoldfrost: (disgruntled)
Sometimes a girl just needed a little down time, and so tonight Emma was reading the latest paper on human evolution and mutation by one Dr. Moira MacTaggart, which had recently - for her time - been published.

It was...well, she was occasionally yelling back at it or shaking the journal.

"Stop! Go back! Dammit, I want more on the triggers and symptoms of adolescent manifestation!"

In other words, another evening at the Nolan & Frost Home for Wayward Fandomites.

[OOC: Looking for some boys, but totally open for calls, texts, visitors.]
icecoldfrost: (hard at work)
The fact of the matter was that college was fucking expensive, and while Emma's investments were by no means depleted, her checking account had dipped precariously low more than once. Point of fact, she currently had $25 to her name, and that had to feed her for the next two weeks, when a few stocks she'd been nursing would be ripe to sell.

Someone was going to be pulling a few telepathic dine-n-dashes for the next few days. )

"I'll bring you a teal deer DNA sample."

There was a pause, then; "That's not fair, Emma."

"Never said I play fair, Big Blue."

[OOC:  NFB, phonecalls, texts OK, but am AFK & pinging from iPod after 5pm CST]

icecoldfrost: (emma is sleepy!)
Since Jack didn't really have anywhere else to stay, they had gotten back to Emma's dorm late last night. Emma had checked to make sure the coast was clear before sneaking him in, since she didn't want to have to deal with signing in a visitor from another universe.

Jack had taken the spare bed, and they'd collapsed into them like two teenagers grateful to be back in the modern era.

That, however, was last night. Now the sun was starting to peek through the windows, and the sounds of people returning from winter break were echoing in the hallway outside their room.
icecoldfrost: (Waiting for My Moment)
Emma had arrived in the early hours of the morning. She had left Fandom yesterday afternoon after receiving the letter, pausing only long enough to send out some messages. The Portalocity network had required a few connections - something about time-travel networks not all being back online yet - before making it to Paris. She was collected from her portal by Lady Abigail Irene and her servant, Mary, and escorted to a discreet clothier where her skirt and boots were pronounced acceptable (and exquisite, for the boots) and was fitted for a suitable blouse, corset, coat, and gloves with no questions asked.

Which meant after a few hours (and some alterations) she was now at the the hospital, half-dozing in her chair as she waited for the troublesome patient to wake.
icecoldfrost: (telepathic high)
Emma had another two weeks of winter break from ESU, so she'd been staying with Hank, helping the scientist with both his projects and some telepathic therapy to recover his memories. Bit-by-bit they were getting there, but whatever trauma Hank had undergone had been monstrous, and while Emma had been mastering her powers in leaps and bounds over the last three years, there was still much she had to learn.

She'd been fast asleep on the couch in her 'room' down in the tunnels when she started awake, the newspaper she'd been reading falling to the floor as she barely managed not to follow it. That same vague sense of wrongness was back, but different. Like there was something missing, and Emma reflexively reached out to check the telepathic links she had to her friends before remembering she was a world and years away; there was no way she'd get an accurate response from any of them at this distance.

Fuck. There was no reason she should be awake at this hour if it did not contain some vice or another. Or fucking statistics homework.

She went fumbling for her coat and boots - it was January in New York, after all - so that she could head up to the surface. First, check the early edition, and make sure it wasn't some disaster here. Second, find a Western Union or something. Third, wait until a semi-decent hour, and casually text a few people.

The last time this had happened, people had vanished. And Emma still couldn't get through to Peter's cell - but she brushed that fear aside. She was a Frost, and she did not curl up and fret. She was, however, possibly going to start kicking people in the shins.

[OOC: In response to this. Open for calls/texts/telegrams/etc that are not set in the pre-dawn hours. :)]
icecoldfrost: (street rat)
Some people coped with bad news with shopping therapy, or chocolate, bad movies, or being anti-social. Not Emma. Emma wanted to be with people.

You would then think that if Emma Grace Frost was going to have guests, she'd take them out somewhere special, somewhere nice. Show off the city she loved so much. Maybe around ESU, if she was feeling lazy, but it was well-known how much Emma adored the glitz and glamor of the Upper East Side. Manhattan was her kingdom.

Most people would not expect to find Emma Frost in horribly seedy bowling alley on a back-street somewhere near Yankee Stadium, dressed in ripped jeans and a metal t-shirt, chugging something that passed as beer and punching the console to make it set-up a game.

Pity the poor fool she had dragged with her. "I should type you in as 'Sparky.'"

[OOC: For that one dude.]
icecoldfrost: (street rat)
Some people coped with bad news with shopping therapy, or chocolate, bad movies, or being anti-social. Not Emma. Emma wanted to be with people.

You would then think that if Emma Grace Frost was going to have guests, she'd take them out somewhere special, somewhere nice. Show off the city she loved so much. Maybe around ESU, if she was feeling lazy, but it was well-known how much Emma adored the glitz and glamor of the Upper East Side. Manhattan was her kingdom.

Most people would not expect to find Emma Frost in horribly seedy bowling alley on a back-street somewhere near Yankee Stadium, dressed in ripped jeans and a metal t-shirt, chugging something that passed as beer and punching the console to make it set-up a game.

Pity the poor fool she had dragged with her. "I should type you in as 'Sparky.'"

[OOC: For that one dude.]


icecoldfrost: (Default)
Emma Grace Frost

September 2016

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