Diamond Bright

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.

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.]

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.]]

( Emma no longer knew what day it was, or even if it was morning or afternoon. All she knew is that she was exhausted. )

[OOC: Establishy! NFB, NFI, OOC = OK. CUT FOR EVERY SINGLE REASON THAT SOMETHING SHOULD BE CUT.]

Emma hadn't meant to stay out so late shopping, she really hadn't. Once she'd realized it was almost nine, she'd hurried for her portal, ducking down the safer shortcuts that she still knew like the back of her hand. New York was her city, and that knowledge gave Emma the confidence to hurry along, less than mindful of her surroundings than she would have been anywhere else.

When she'd tripped over something, she just swore at herself for not watching the sidewalk more carefully, and set about picking up her bags. She didn't pay any mind to the two men walking past her; at least, not until the turned around and grabbed her.

( The last thing she remembered, she hadn't even had time to scream or shift before a cloth was pressed over her face, and the chloroform kicked in. )

[OOC: General warning for disturbing shit and abuse of authority. Establishy. NFB, NFI, OOC = OK.]

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.]

Everyone had retreated back to Sookie's house to wait on this Alcide man that Eric assured them would, indeed, show. It was just before dawn when a huge truck with Herveaux and Son printed across the side came up the little dirt drive, and out stepped a large man in flannel and jeans.

( and enter the sexiest and second-most shirtles werewolf this side of Twilight... )

( 'So,' Alcide said, tilting his head back a bit as soon as he hit the highway, so he could talk to everyone crammed into the little cab of his truck.  )

[OOC: GOD, KENNEDY. Following after Fangtasia, Alcide courtesy of justwantsquiet. NFI, NFB, OOC = YAY.]

Emma had not actually slept in two weeks.

Every time she began to get tired or drift off, her body would shift, and she'd find herself wide-awake, shiny, and mildly vexed at the entire situation. She'd change back eventually, but any attempts at napping or sleep were continually thwarted.

Until this afternoon, when her body could not keep up with the demands of Emma's unconscious any longer. Between one page of her latest mystery novel and the next, Emma Frost fell asleep.

And dreamed. Nightmares, pouring in from the minds of the rest of the island; visions of hells she had not visited herself. Demon dogs, some creature with an apron of skin, large mutant terrors roaming the streets. Rivet City, reminding her of what it meant to be homeless and broke and hungry all over again. The building coming down around her and Alex, and this time, Emma didn't change. Finding Alex's broken body and screaming. Watching her classmates and teachers unravel in the bunker, and falling prey to its residents.

She didn't wake screaming; Emma had trained herself too well for that. The only sign of her distress was the way her nails cut into her palms.


[OOC: Door closed, post open, sure.]

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.]

The sweep of the island had turned out negative, confirming the suspicion that Emma had moved to somewhere off-island. And so the group of searchers moved out across the causeway and to the mainland, with the reasoning that if she were looking for Hank, she'd probably head to the city.

( Random traces of unseasonal ice and physic scents eventually led them to a shipping yard near the Causeway... )

[OOC: NFI, NFB due to distance! Timezone preplay waltz accomplished by superb team of justwantsquiet, glacial_witch, not_a_parakeet, weetinyreese, noearsyet, and icecoldfrost.]