(no subject)
Emma Grace Frost sat in her white Town Car, leaning back and sipping on a cup of tea. It was still before noon. Too early to break out the wine. Her icy blue eyes glittered with envy as she passed by the Waldorf=Astoria, her mind catching the thoughts of the hotel drones inside preparing the banquet hall for that night’s charity event. A charity event that Emma had been disinvited from. Damn you, Charles Xavier. The world didn’t need to know we were mutants quite yet. Surely, you could have waited until this season was over. She smoothed down her white tweed pencil skirt, run through with silver threads, and scowled. Emma knew very well that he couldn’t have, of course, given everything that had happened recently, but a little bit of a warning might have been nice. At least long enough for Emma to come up with some sort of cover story. But no, that hadn’t been the case, and suddenly, Emma had been coldly and cruelly tossed out of New York high society. Everything I worked for, all these years. Creating my own identity, creating my own name, become a member of that society, and showing my father that I could do it all without his help…all for nothing.
Emma was snapped out of her thoughts by her car pulling up to her place of destination, the Snow Valley Pavilion for the Mentally Disturbed. The mental institute where her only brother Christian had been for so many years now. Emma brushed back a lock of her white blonde hair and waited for the driver - a man named Channing - to open the door before getting out. She offered him a warm smile and made her way inside the institute, walking up to the front desk. “I’m here to see Christian Frost,” she said in her upper crust accent, looking down at the harried receptionist with a mixture of politeness and disdain that very few women could manage successfully.
The receptionist blinked and checked the book in front of her. She looked back up at Emma, clearly confused. Her thoughts were loud and clear, though. The woman had seen Emma earlier that day, or at least she thought she had. A woman who looked and sounded remarkably like Emma had come in that morning to meet Christian…and had taken him away. Emma frowned. Christian had gone completely insane because of the medications they had administered to him. He was hardly coherent. What was going on? There was more, though. A note had been left for the next visiting relative to read. Glaring coldly at the receptionist, and not even waiting for her to explain what Emma had already read in her mind, Emma demanded, “Just give me the bloody note,” and held out her hand expectantly.
The woman pulled the note out of her desk and gave it to Emma. It was good, heavy paper, Emma noted. Expensive paper. Exactly the sort of paper that Emma wrote her notes on. She pulled the note out of her envelope and read it once, and then read it again. The note was simple and effective.
Darling. Flowers always bloom in spite of the harshest frost. XOXO.
It was impossible, Emma thought. She’d taken care of her back in college. Back when she’d toyed with Ian’s mind and with…Unconsciously, Emma turned into diamond. This? This wasn’t good. Her brother, her mentally ill brother, had been kidnapped by the one woman Emma never thought she’d see again.
Astrid Bloom was back.
Coldly, Emma stalked out of the institute. Astrid Bloom would pay for this.
Emma was snapped out of her thoughts by her car pulling up to her place of destination, the Snow Valley Pavilion for the Mentally Disturbed. The mental institute where her only brother Christian had been for so many years now. Emma brushed back a lock of her white blonde hair and waited for the driver - a man named Channing - to open the door before getting out. She offered him a warm smile and made her way inside the institute, walking up to the front desk. “I’m here to see Christian Frost,” she said in her upper crust accent, looking down at the harried receptionist with a mixture of politeness and disdain that very few women could manage successfully.
The receptionist blinked and checked the book in front of her. She looked back up at Emma, clearly confused. Her thoughts were loud and clear, though. The woman had seen Emma earlier that day, or at least she thought she had. A woman who looked and sounded remarkably like Emma had come in that morning to meet Christian…and had taken him away. Emma frowned. Christian had gone completely insane because of the medications they had administered to him. He was hardly coherent. What was going on? There was more, though. A note had been left for the next visiting relative to read. Glaring coldly at the receptionist, and not even waiting for her to explain what Emma had already read in her mind, Emma demanded, “Just give me the bloody note,” and held out her hand expectantly.
The woman pulled the note out of her desk and gave it to Emma. It was good, heavy paper, Emma noted. Expensive paper. Exactly the sort of paper that Emma wrote her notes on. She pulled the note out of her envelope and read it once, and then read it again. The note was simple and effective.
Darling. Flowers always bloom in spite of the harshest frost. XOXO.
It was impossible, Emma thought. She’d taken care of her back in college. Back when she’d toyed with Ian’s mind and with…Unconsciously, Emma turned into diamond. This? This wasn’t good. Her brother, her mentally ill brother, had been kidnapped by the one woman Emma never thought she’d see again.
Astrid Bloom was back.
Coldly, Emma stalked out of the institute. Astrid Bloom would pay for this.