Diamond Bright

Emma hadn't gone to her Saturday morning yoga class. She wasn't with her personal trainer now, either, for her biweekly session. She hadn't gone to kickboxing on Wednesday, or most of her classes, and had called in to work on Thursday and Friday. She'd barely made it to mandated team practice for Regionals, and she was the captain of the fencing team.

Really, she hadn't gone anywhere since coming back on Tuesday that wasn't vital.

She'd read the journal four times now. Four times, right up until the entry for That Party. Then she'd stop, and start at the beginning again. Those last fifty pages were still untouched, unseen, as if not reading them would make everything contained in there untrue and undue the damage of the last decade. That maybe her brother would be pounding on the door between this page and the next, hollering her name at the top of his lungs.

But this was New York, not Fandom and it's fairy magic. It was hard and bright and real, with no room for daydreams or softness, and that was why she loved it. Christian was dead. He wasn't coming back, not again, not here, and not reading the rest of the journal wasn't going to change that.

Fifty pages. That was all she had left of him. That was the entirety of his life after he'd been taken away from her, and the one subject on which he'd refused to speak on the one weekend she'd gotten him back.

She turned the page, and started to read.

[NFB, open for calls or texts or vists, sure. SP until after I finish demolishing this set.]

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.]]

To be perfectly honest, Emma wasn't sure when she'd last eaten something besides coffee. With the voices getting louder and more insistent, she hadn't been able to sleep in the dorms, let alone find her appetite. She'd changed back to diamond hours ago to delay the need for sleep, but even now she could feel the edges of exhaustion wearing on her.

( She was a telepath, dammit. She was smarter than the vast majority of the people on this island, and there was no excuse for her not to find something useful. )

[[OOC: Possibly to be continued in comments, open for calls/texts if desired.]]

It was a lazy Sunday so far. Emma had swiped an extra piece of Bobby's cake for breakfast this morning, and now she was at the Perk catching up on her accounting homework, gleefully manipulating the numbers to make them do what she wanted.

Really, the staff should know better by now than to give her that double espresso shot.

( Somewhere just outside the window, there was a rustle. A bump. And the sound of scuffling. )

[OOC: NFI, establishy.]

If you had asked Emma Frost a few days earlier what her plans for the weekend were, scavenging about in the ruins of an abandoned outpost while stuck in another world -- again -- had not ranked high on her list of priorities.

"Find anything?" she asked her partner-in-crime. "I think this might be a box of Twinkies."

( Twinkies would survive...whatever the fuck happened here. )


[OOC: WARNING FOR ALTERED CANON AND ABUSE OF CHARACTERS.. Preplayed with the forever fantastical fratboybitch, who indulged me and gleefully nommed on trauma like it was pie. NFI, NFB, OOC = SHINY.]

Emma had skipped class yesterday, preferring instead to cocoon herself in a pile of blankets and try to sleep-off her powers hangover. She didn't need to give herself a worse migraine by listening to Professor Dèmon prattle on, no matter how entertaining and well-intentioned he was.

She was feeling a bit better today, however, and was bored with sleeping. She'd ventured out of her room long enough for a shower and to steal a movie from the common room, and was now curled up on her bed again, happily humming along.

Hopefully her furred roommate wouldn't mind her choice of entertainment.

[Door and post are open! ETA: Now on SP as I go to the internet-less job.]

Emma had been pushing herself since late last night after radio, knowing that somewhere, out there, her friends were probably doing Very Stupid Things(tm). They were idealists and that's what they did, and Emma was getting too many strange readings to feel comfortable leaving them to their own devices.

Push out. Farther. Farther. Hold more, see more, even if the damned fog was uncomfortable and Emma was tired and cold. So tired, she was starting to see things, flickering, out of the corner of her eye. People she knew weren't there, things that were gone when she turned around, and so she had decided to ignore them and keep working. Could not stop, would not stop. Not until she was satisfied that her range was as complete as possible.

( Right up until the moment she pushed too far, and her eyes went pure white as she started screaming telepathically as she seized up; a distress call reaching out for two people in particular. )


[OOC: Preplayed with the AMAZING justwantsquiet and glacial_witch, with Guest Appearances by brat_intraining, not_a_parakeet, provostsdog, and guardianborn. Psyhic call for help was directed at Sookie and Karla, but if you think you'd have sensed it anyway, feel free to react here or in your own journals. Otherwise NFI, and all astral-plane shenanigans are NFB.]

Hank had a saying; what Emma wants, Emma gets. And what Emma wanted right now was her fencing sword, because being surprised in the shower by that... thing had not been pleasant.

From what she was picking up from the other residents, these things were everywhere. So off to the weapons locker it was, to get something sharp so that she didn't have to try and bludgeon the next one to death with her shampoo bottle.

And somewhere along the line she had acquired a Jack, who was being so very Victorian about this, and not letting her out of the dorms alone.

"I don't need a babysitter, you know. I know where the weapons lockers are."

[OOC: For the Victorian Terrier, plz.]

Emma loved Thursdays, mostly because she never had any classes. It was her own little weekend mid-week, where she could get anything she wanted done.

For some reason, though, she just kept dozing off. She hadn't gotten much sleep lately, true, but that didn't explain the odd dreams she'd been having lately; snippets of conversations with people she didn't recognize, none of which made any sense.

She was inclined to brush it off, blame it on everything that had happened on Monday. Adrenaline from the sleepover party and Alex combined with... whatever the fuck that was, and it had her brain on overdrive. That was all. She just needed a distraction, something to focus on, and her special little brain would calm down and heal up by itself.

And when Emma wanted a distraction, she knew just who to bother. For now, however, she was going to stay curled up in her blanket with the business section. Work came before play.

[OOC: Open post, open door, SP totes applies today.]