Diamond Bright

Emma was packing.

Well, no, that was a lie. Emma had attempted to pack. Emma had her suitcases open on the bed in her room and stuff flung everywhere. There was a trail of things she'd dropped all over the hallway, from where she'd rescued them from Jack's room or the room they shared, or the kitchen, or-- but she just didn't understand how so many of her things from New York had ended up here, or how much she'd had here in the first place, or how she was supposed to get it all to fit back into two suitcases. No matter what she did, she couldn't make it fit, and it was driving her up the wall.

Which meant it was time for a break, before she started making lists and color-coding things, or ended up just donating everything but her favorites and going shopping to distract her from her own brain. Emma had grabbed her sword and headed out to the front yard, taking up a stance amongst the other residents of their address. Footwork drills without knocking anyone over, and then attacks to see how many she could 'kill' before they reappeared the next day.

It was rather soothing, actually, the way the damn things kept coming back. No matter how the residents of 33 Apocalpyse Avenue changed, the zombie gnomes stayed the same.

[OOC: Open house, open post!]

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!]

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.]

Contrary to Jack's pessimism and all evidence to the contrary, the world hadn't ended. Emma considered this one a win in her book.

They'd grabbed their items from the base camp - including the condoms they'd stolen from Kwik Stop - giggling slightly maniacally the entire time before heading back to Ronan's place. From there, it should have been simple enough to go to their separate rooms and call around to make sure people were okay and everything was normal.

Except that Emma made a split-second decision. She swapped back to her diamond form, hauled Jack up over her shoulder, and marched up the stairs to her (thankfully!) shielded room.

Look, some people celebrate with dancing in the kitchen. They were young, alive, and over-saturated on caffeine and adrenaline. Emma could think of a few ways to celebrate.

[[OOC: For the modded one! Totally going to end up being NWS.]]