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icecoldfrostGiven 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.]
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.]
