[The now-familiar sound of Emma's voice, slightly echoing from the effects of telepathy, echo in everyone's head.]

To those of you unaccustomed to this form of communication, I apologize and suggest you get used to it.

We're being plagued by beings called Weeping Angels.  I don't know how many there are or where they are, but if you turn away from ( Read more... )

[Of course it was inevitable.  The ship is sinking.  The bloody ship with all its passengers is sinking and soon almost everyone will be dead.  Hell of a place to end up.]

She does have a wonderful sense of humor, doens't she?

[Emma was, of course, in the First Class cabins.  Nothing but the best for the Xavier Institute co-headmistress and heir to ( Read more... )

[So, guess who's already more or less used to people revealing uncomfortable truths about themselves?  That's right, it's the telepath!  Still, the overload of emotions and thoughts, mostly embarrassment and annoyance, with a hot smattering of anger, have made things more annoying than usual ( Read more... )

[If you walk by the living room, you might notice something shiny. Very shiny. Look closer and you'll see that it's someone very shiny. Look again. It's Emma Frost in her diamond form, huddled in a chair and reading and trying not look grumpy. Her fingers make a tinkling sound whenever they brush together, and she frowns as she stares at the ( Read more... )

[This place has both confused and annoyed Emma to no ends.  She rubs her head, wincing.  The psychic noise is getting to her, in addition to the regular noise.  She's heard about these places, these fan conventions, and she's seen people dressed like the heroes she knows - plenty of Captain Americas and Iron Mans running around during Halloween.  ( Read more... )

[Emma's sending out a psychic message directly into the minds of anyone nearby who might be paying attention.]

I doubt anyone knows where the hell we are, but that's not important.  What matters is that we stick together and survive.  If you hear this, follow the signal to me.  We can figure out a plan in person.

[She waits to see if anyone returns ( Read more... )

[Emma's demeanor has finally cracked.  She's sick and she' not going to pretend otherwise.  So she's in her room, huddled up in bed with tissues and a thick comforter.  Her hair's a mess, she's running a high fever and she looks like hell ( Read more... )

[Anyone in the hallways of the manor might run into Emma, looking very out of sorts and followed by a huge white tiger.]

I told you, leave me alone.

But I can't!  I'm your soul.  I have to follow you.  You'll just have to get used to me.

[The tiger has a male voice, and speaks with a typical New York accent, in contrast to Emma's affected English ( Read more... )

[A new day.  Emma sits up in her bed, stretches and yawns.  Except she doesn't look anything like Emma.  She looks like Weiss: tall, skinny, male and dead.

Weiss's body clutches it's own head, frowning.]

I can't hear anyone...

[Then he looks down.]

...Bloody hell.  Body swap.  Not again.

[He pokes the hole in his chest, then recoils.]

Ow!  Dear lord, ( Read more... )

[Emma's looking out the window of some building onto the grand view of the canals and narrow passages.]

Venice.  How utterly romantic.

Do excursions like this happen often?  It's nice to get away from that dusty old house, but I don't like the idea of being yanked around through time and space at someone else's whims.