icecoldfrost: (pure ambition)
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Candy asked for the fifth time as her fingers danced through Emma's hair, weaving the strands into a complex updo. "I mean, are you sure-sure?"

"I dropped off their radar seven weeks ago, have had Frost International up and running and ready to go public for six months, bought my building out from under them two years ago, fired the super that was spying on me yesterday," Emma replied as she expertly applied her eyeliner, "--and sent in my notice over email this morning. If I'm not ready now, Candy-cane, I might as well roll over and play dead."

You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it. -- J.M. Barrie )

[OOC: NFB, NFI, OOC welcome.]
icecoldfrost: (hanging out)
Emma had...drunk. A lot. And had only her mutant metabolism to thank for not having alcohol poisoning. Hallelujah, genetic awesomeness. The only thing saving her from an epic hangover was using up the vast majority of the hot water in the building, more coffee than God, and eating an entire box of frozen waffles. Candy had already departed for her own apartment, to shower and finish sleeping off last night's revels, leaving Emma and Jono alone to talk shop.

"So, are you going to tell me why your brain feels like swiss cheese - more than usual - or do I get to guess?" Emma crammed the last bite of waffle in her mouth in a manner that should not be physically possible before pointing her fork at Jono. << You promised. >>

[OOC: For that dude!]
icecoldfrost: (girls' night out)
It was the end of J-Term for ESU. A time when students tended to celebrate being half-way through the year, the grueling schedule of a J-Term behind them, and the rumors of an East Coast Spring on the horizon.

For two - very tipsy - young ladies in Bed-Stuy by the names of Emma Grace Frost and Candace 'Candy' Southern, however, it was a time to drunk-dial or Skype everyone they knew, so that they could wave their temporary diplomas at them. Or, in Emma's case, three of her four diplomas.

[OOC: Open for calls, texts, and Skype sessions, if you think Emma would call you to gloat.]
icecoldfrost: (high society girl)
Emma had been going non-stop for the past two days, and had already dragged herself out of bed and started making pancakes before noon. On a Saturday.

Why? Because it was NYFW. And she and Candy had tickets and wonderful seats and there were parties and Alon Livné was at 1:30 today and he had made her swear up and down that she wouldn't miss it. God, she loved New York. They had been out far too late last night - or this morning, depending if you'd bothered to check a clock - and now they were going to be out ridiculously late again. It was a great week to be young, female, and pretty in New York.

"Get up, you lazy buttface," she hollered, tossing a plastic cup across the room to where Candy was passed out on the bed. "I cooked, it's not on fire, and we need to get ready."

Emma Grace Frost, ladies and gentlemen. The epitome of refinement and beauty. Or something.

[OOC: NFB, open to calls or texts. It is kinda mandatory that I post Emma (and Jessica Stam) during Fashion Week.]
icecoldfrost: (Hank!)
"...and we'll be checking for Lichtenberg figures, too," Hank was saying. "Especially at the contact points where you were electrocuted." He cocked his head to study Jack. "I must say, you don't smell particularly singed at the moment. Electrocution can be tricky, how are you feeling?"

Emma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose from her perch on one of the counters in Hank's lab space. It was greatly upgraded from the last time Jack had been down there, with bright lights, clean and painted walls, and newer equipment. Hank himself was greatly improved as well, the large man seeming more focused than usual as he moved about his lab, making notes on a chart with Jack's name at the top.

"Hank, should I be worried that somehow you already have a chart for my boyfriend? We've talked about the 'no testing on Emma's friends' lately, right?"

Hank just grinned, giving his partner-in-crime a noogie as he walked past her. "Stop fussing, Emma. It's from when he first came down here to transform. I documented the process, so he'd have something to compare against later. Don't worry, it's not like I kept any DNA."

He turned his large yellow eyes back to Jack. "...are we sure I can't keep any DNA from you?"

HANK, NO.

[OOC: For that werewolf boy.]
icecoldfrost: (coffee addict)
"Miss Frost! Mr. Shaw needs those projections before lunch, and then he wants you to be on the trading floor the rest of the time today," Johann - another intern but from NYU - blurted out as he skidded into the office all the Shaw Industries interns shared. "He says you're his lucky penny, and he wants to see another fifty grand before close."

Emma wasn't headblind or stupid )

[OOC: Open for calls or texts!]
icecoldfrost: (pure ambition)
Time had been moving a bit faster for Emma than it was currently running at Fandom, for today, for her, was Friday before fall break, and the day that she - and the rest of the MBA students - had been waiting for impatiently.

It was the day they found out where they'd be interning for second semester. The holy grail of the MBA program. So of course, Professor Carlson was making them all as miserable as possible, and reading off the list in alphabetical order... of the company, not the students. Not that it was causing Emma (much) distress. She already knew where she was going, so she was mentally planning a shopping trip and half-listening.

"...Nishimura International," Carlson droned, and she sat up a little straighter, a bright smile on her lips and her hands folded demurely on her desk. "...Ryan Choi and Frank Poole."

Wait, what?

"Professor, there's been a mistake," Emma broke in smoothly, her smile not faltering an iota. "Mr. Nishimura took me out to lunch last week to personally congratulate me on getting the position."

"So that's what they're calling it these days, 'getting the position.' More like getting into the position," one of the guys behind her whispered, and half the class sniggered behind their hands. "'Personally,'" someone else added, which set off another round of snickering.

Emma hated everything.

"You're correct, Miss Frost, you were the original choice for Nishimura International," Professor Carlson agreed, ignoring Emma's detractors. "Given that Mr. Nishimura apparently felt free to spill the beans early, your interruption is understandable and forgivable."

"However, we had a few latecomers to the party, companies that don't normally partake in our program but are branching out this year." He looked down his list until he found what he was looking for, and nodded. "You were requested for Shaw Industrial. Apparently they're interested in the proposal of developing and funding alternative energy sources that you wrote last year. They requested we reassign you, and Nishimura International was kind enough to agree, on the condition we give them two people to make up for losing you."

"Shaw Industries? Who'd she have to fuck to get that?" she could hear one of her classmates - Dan-something - whisper to one of his friends. "There's no way she was qualified for that or Nishimura."

Sometimes, Emma really hated being the only woman in this class, and wished she'd waited to take it until Candy could too. A lot. Shaw Industries was fantastic, just as good as Nishimura International, but all she could hear now were the psychic whispers about how she got the job. Some were genuinely curious, respectful if jealous, a few didn't care - they'd know their parents were buying them their positions - but some of her classmates were getting...ugly. Emma kept a pleasant expression and her hands folded, looking neither right or left, throughout the rest of the mental torture-session. The moment the bell rang, she picked up her bag, tucked her hair behind her ear, and sauntered out.

It wasn't until she got back to the safety of her apartment, door closed behind her, that Emma allowed herself to crack, just a bit, letting her smooth composure drop, and once she was in the shower, she could pretend it didn't hurt, that she hadn't worked hard for this, that she wasn't crying. She wasn't.

Afterwards, clean and refreshed, she fired off a text to Jack letting him know that his room was about to be occupied. Because Emma was considerate that way, and right now, she'd rather spend the fall break in Fandom than alone in her apartment.

[OOC: Open for calls or texts before she heads to Fandom for the weekend.]
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: (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: (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: (I can see inside your mind)
Emma was in the middle of her kickboxing class when she was just struck with the sense of - for lack of a better term - wrong. She couldn't sense anything with her powers to account for it, it was just... like a voice over an intercom where you couldn't make out the words, or a popular song with two notes out-of-tune. Or a ripple in a lake with no source. Nothing she could articulate, just...wrong. Echos of nails on a chalkboard and why couldn't she place this damned -

- Of course, the middle of kickboxing class was generally not a good place for one get hit by nebulous feelings of doom and dread, and the next thing Emma knew, she was on the floor, her sparring partner shrilly apologizing over and over, and her classmates hovering.

"Please stay down, Frost," the the cute coach was saying, even as things swam in circles around her. "You might have a concussion, and you've got a bloody nose. Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"

"Three, my name is Emma Grace Frost, I am about to turn nineteen years old next month, this is Kickboxing for Beginners, and Ellen there just nailed me on the side of the head," Emma said crossly. "That wasn't the move we were supposed to be practicing."

"But you always seem to know what I'm going to do next!" Ellen wailed, looking distraught. "I didn't think it would hurt to try something new!"

"Ellen, go get Emma some ice," the teacher sighed. "Fine, no concussion. But take it easy the rest of the day, okay? I'd skip any other classes today if I were you, and I'll give you a note in case your other professors raise a fuss."

That was perfectly fine with Emma. She was just going to hole up in her now single-room with an ice pack and a large mug of tea, and try to resist the urge to call Kerrigan or Sookie or Karla like a frightened child. She was Emma Frost, dammit. She wasn't going to go running to other people over a mild spook like this.

....start randomly texting, maybe. But at least it was something to focus on that wasn't homework, and now she could do it without worrying about a roommate catching her.

[OOC: NFB, Open for calls, texts, what-have-you.]
icecoldfrost: (I can see inside your mind)
Emma was in the middle of her kickboxing class when she was just struck with the sense of - for lack of a better term - wrong. She couldn't sense anything with her powers to account for it, it was just... like a voice over an intercom where you couldn't make out the words, or a popular song with two notes out-of-tune. Or a ripple in a lake with no source. Nothing she could articulate, just...wrong. Echos of nails on a chalkboard and why couldn't she place this damned -

- Of course, the middle of kickboxing class was generally not a good place for one get hit by nebulous feelings of doom and dread, and the next thing Emma knew, she was on the floor, her sparring partner shrilly apologizing over and over, and her classmates hovering.

"Please stay down, Frost," the the cute coach was saying, even as things swam in circles around her. "You might have a concussion, and you've got a bloody nose. Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"

"Three, my name is Emma Grace Frost, I am about to turn nineteen years old next month, this is Kickboxing for Beginners, and Ellen there just nailed me on the side of the head," Emma said crossly. "That wasn't the move we were supposed to be practicing."

"But you always seem to know what I'm going to do next!" Ellen wailed, looking distraught. "I didn't think it would hurt to try something new!"

"Ellen, go get Emma some ice," the teacher sighed. "Fine, no concussion. But take it easy the rest of the day, okay? I'd skip any other classes today if I were you, and I'll give you a note in case your other professors raise a fuss."

That was perfectly fine with Emma. She was just going to hole up in her now single-room with an ice pack and a large mug of tea, and try to resist the urge to call Kerrigan or Sookie or Karla like a frightened child. She was Emma Frost, dammit. She wasn't going to go running to other people over a mild spook like this.

....start randomly texting, maybe. But at least it was something to focus on that wasn't homework, and now she could do it without worrying about a roommate catching her.

[OOC: NFB, Open for calls, texts, what-have-you.]
icecoldfrost: (when I grow up (I'll turn the tables))
It seemed that Emma's future was catching up to her present.

She'd gotten a huge migraine a few days before, the likes of which she hadn't had to deal with since her manifestation, and today... today it was taking all her willpower not to tweak a few brains.

Haven't you heard? Some star athlete in California was revealed to be a mutant )

Which is why it was no surprise to anyone that knew her that Emma would take refuge in the library. Or, that once she'd found a secluded corner, that she'd whip out her Blackberry and start texting people.

Fucking bigots. Screw this, she was going back for Homecoming.

[OOC: NFB, open for calls, texts, etc. Chunks of text, characters, & plot swiped from Emma Frost, Issue 14, "Bloom," Part 2 of 6.]
icecoldfrost: (when I grow up (I'll turn the tables))
It seemed that Emma's future was catching up to her present.

She'd gotten a huge migraine a few days before, the likes of which she hadn't had to deal with since her manifestation, and today... today it was taking all her willpower not to tweak a few brains.

Haven't you heard? Some star athlete in California was revealed to be a mutant )

Which is why it was no surprise to anyone that knew her that Emma would take refuge in the library. Or, that once she'd found a secluded corner, that she'd whip out her Blackberry and start texting people.

Fucking bigots. Screw this, she was going back for Homecoming.

[OOC: NFB, open for calls, texts, etc. Chunks of text, characters, & plot swiped from Emma Frost, Issue 14, "Bloom," Part 2 of 6.]
icecoldfrost: (hard at work)
Unlike Fandom, the roof of the student dormitories at ESU were closed to students, and they were forbidden from going up there.

Then again, Emma Frost hadn't gotten as far as she had by paying any attention to rules.

It was a gorgeous day, sunny and bright and warm as she laid out her blanket on the roof where no one could see her. She had her cigarettes, her lighter, her phone, and the utter PILE of homework she had for her classes. Taking the accelerated Danger Shop courses had allowed her to test out of many of her general education classes that most freshmen had to take, and with the sheer amount of credits she was taking right now, she might be finished in two years, if she kept her grades up and maintained the grueling pace she'd set for herself. Even with two majors and a minor.

At the rate she was going, she was going to have enough classes to count as an engineering minor, too.

Even the most studious girl needed a break from the library - and all the deliciously info-packed-yet-incredibly-shallow brains that occupied it, which was why she'd sought refuge up here today. She could smoke, study for midterms, and not need to worry about hiding her Blackberry, dammit. She could text if she wanted to!

[OOC: NFB, open for calls/texts/etc]

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Emma Grace Frost

September 2016

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