12/23 - Adel, Clubhouse
A present from Leo.
12/23/2007
Logfile from Emma.
=NYC= White Queen's Suite - Second Floor - Hellfire Clubhouse
The heart of the White Queen's rule reflects her color and her taste. Spotless white carpet covers the floor, and flawless white paint coats the walls, all but the outer one, which boasts a single, huge picture window that surveys the gardens and the East River beyond them. A lushly upholstered couch in the corner offers a perch for enjoying that view or simply relaxing, with an end table and lamp at hand for reading.
The furniture is as minimalist and modern as the dcor. The desk is a single slab of brushed aluminum, curving down and under itself for support. A trio of ultra-slim flat-panel displays extends out of the desk's surface on articulated arms adjustable to any orientation; touch-sensitive panels supplant keyboard and mouse for a variety of interface options. The computer itself lies behind a wall: easily accessible when needed and discreetly invisible when not. A sweeping throne of a chair sits behind the desk, its seat and back crafted of brushed aluminum to match the desk. Two rather more modest chairs crouch in front of the desk, available for supplicants or other guests.
A door leads to an adjoining suite, where white reigns with a regal decisiveness softened by fine fabrics, lush carpeting, and the suffusion of well-bred taste. The bed stands sleek with satins and down-plumped pillows, its ash-blond frame matching the wood of its paired nightstands and the long, low-slung bureau against one silk-papered wall. Across the room, layers of gauze curtain shield tall windows; a high-backed armchair reigns in a corner there, attended by wide ottoman and neat reading lamp.
One door leads out to the office, another into a large walk-in closet filled with a complete wardrobe, and yet another opens in on a bathroom of echoing design and decor. White marble lies cool and waiting in tub and sinks; the white tile of floor and walls hoards dull reflections. Fixtures gleam silver, like the vanity mirror's frame, and support a ranked rack of towels by the shower stall, the white cloths perfectly monogrammed, fluffed, and arranged for their mistress.
Lazy Sundays are the best kind of Sundays. Emma is settled on the floor with her back up against one of the sofas, Almas laying on her feet, and a novel of questionable enjoyment, if not questionable literary significance, in her hand. She isn't reading it, however. At the moment, she is too busy convincing Adel that he cannot get her a minature bridle set for Magneto's Christmas gift. "...we /just/ got the carpets replaced."
"But it is /funny/," Adel argues as he lazily draws the brush through Emma's hair, with the weight of it gathered in his hand. Braiding it only to unbraid it, he is between one braid the next as he luxuriates in the feel of it. Touchy, touchy! Sprawled on the sofa behind her, he leans in over her to give her a Serious Look. "We can always replace carpets. Rarely do we have a chance for such fun."
Emma gives him an arch look back. "You find someone to ride the thing up and down the halls tomorrow night, and I will make sure he is here." See? She's not /that/ much of a spoil sport. Their conversation is interrupted by the intercom's chirp followed by a few seconds of dead air. A moment later, a pawn knocks on her door. At Emma's called invitation, she enters, holding the door behind her as she stands sideways in the door. "Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Frost, but..." Emma lifts a brow and puts the book down, but doesn't say anything. "There is a delivery for you, and we need to know if we should accept it."
Adel looks thoughtful, mentally going through the lists of pawns during the interruption, beginning and ending with the woman who steps in. "Is it explosive?" he asks of Emma more than the pawn, voice low with laughter as he shifts with a stretch to set the brush down on a side table. With one last stroke of his fingers against her neck, he allows the hair to fall, blond strands slithering into place. "Does it breathe? Mew, bark, or neigh? Does it have a /bow/ on it?"
"No, but it did have a letter." She crosses the room to hand the letter off to Emma, who takes it and breaks the seal. There is very little physical reaction to it's contents, but telepathically... well. She groans silently, only needing to read the signed name. The rest of the contents are then skimmed aloud mentally before she shifts Almas off her feet and climbing up. "Christmas needs to be abolished. I'll be right there." The pawn nods and turns to hurry out of the room and relay the "hold" message to those at the door.
"I love Christmas," Adel says lightly as he moves after Emma. Light on his feet, he slips an arm around her waist in brief embrace that serves as an excuse to near enough to read the letter over her shoulder, checking it against the broadcast version for all the little details pure words can't convey: paper, handwriting, signature, etc. "Gosh. Does it really say 'statue'?"
Emma rolls her eyes and pinches his arm before escaping toward the door. She stuffs her feet into a pair of slippers before padding out and down the hall. Anticipatory dread trails after her.
Unrepentant, Adel follows Emma with a doggy good-cheer rather terribly similar to that of Almas. Hands folded behind his back, he grins in silence as he heads to the door. In his mind, he imagines various possible permutations on the whole statue thing.
None of them can prepare him for the sight of the eighteen wheeler with its back open and the workers attempting to disgorge the behemoth inside. By the time he arrives, Emma is standing stock still on the porch, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, mind broadcasting white noise of shock. It is huge. Only halfway pulled free, the statue inside is on its back, and the curve of a sea-shell cupped breast is just clearing the side of the trailer.
Adel goes, "Hee," in a barely-stiffled titter of hilarity. He clears his throat hastily, a far more manly noise, and glances at Emma sidelong.
Emma reaches out to grab his arm without looking. Her fingers wrap into the fabric of his shirt and her nails dig. "Is that..." It would be impossible not to recognize the general gist of the carving.
Adel makes a rounded gesture, and then delineates the curve of a hip with the skim of his hand through the air: measuring, perhaps, the proportions of the statue against muscle-memory. "Yup."
"But I..." She stops. "Who would..." Her hand tightens and she turns toward him, a mildly manic look in her eyes. "A /statue/?"
Grin bright, Adel glances over the broad expanse of the Club grounds. "Where should we put it?"
The statue is now free of the truck, and she watches in fascinated horror as they stand it upright. It rises up even higher than the steps, and now the glitter of blue is clearly seen in the weak winter sunlight. Her fingers grow cold on Adel's shirt. "Can we get a signature now?" the truck foreman asks again, the target undefined, but generally directed at Emma. After all, it sure does /look/ like her statue.
"Made quite an impression on Halloween, didn't you?" Adel says lightly, slipping his free hand into his pocket and leaning back on his heels with a jaunty bounce. He clearly finds this hilarious.
Clearly. Emma holds her hand out for the clipboard and releases Adel's arm to scrawl her name across the bottom. "I..." She stops and gathers herself with a deeply inhaled breath and shake of her head. "I have made impressions before. Generally, they result in jewelry of some sort. This..." She flaps her hand at the thing. This isn't jewelry. "Can we put it in the river?"
"No," Adel vetoes decisively. Bishop's prerogative! "Maybe the hedge maze."
"It looks cold." Emma's voice is a little bit strangled.
"The statue does?" Adel asks, all innocent. "We could find a jacket for it. Maybe a quilt. Big quilt. Tie it around her neck."
"Yes. Do that." She creeps forward a couple steps and squints her eyes as she looks over the thing. The delivery men start to pack up there things. "Wait! You can't just leave it /here/."
Rubbing at his arms as Emma moves away, Adel shifts from foot to foot. His grin is a /touch/ manic. "Where to put it, where to put it. We'll have to hire someone to help move it."
"Where you want it then?" the foreman asks, and Emma has no answer for him. So she merely waves him off weakly and steps down a step, and seats herself on the top row. Her fingers press against her lips as she just /looks/ at the thing. "Its eyes follow me," she whimperwhispers.
"You know, this is a good time for mulled wine. I have no idea what is in mulled wine," Adel says as he reaches down to pull Emma to her feet. He waves over one of the staff, and points at the foreman. "Have it put in back, somewhere. By the gardening sheds, maybe. Whatever. We'll deal with it later." Back to Emma, then: "It's cold, and you need a drink. Let's go."
As Emma is pulled up, she suddenly bursts into laughter, leaning against Adel for support. "A statue. It has to be twenty feet if it is an inch. Why have you never gotten me a statue?"
"Lack of initiative." Looping his arm in Emma's, Adel proceeds to draw her back through the Club as a crowd slowly gathers to gawk. More than one person looks between Emma and BigEmma and then back again. "Lack of -- God, braindamage. Percy's going to be jealous. That completely beats out his presents for you. Ever."
Emma rolls her eyes skyward and sends a silent question to the heavens along the lines of 'Why?!' before they disappear inside. "Adel, promise me no present from you? At the rate things are going, I am going to end up with a miniature amusement park before this holiday runs its course."
"I can make no such promise," Adel says with a slight shake of his head. "Although I /will/ says that I won't get any sort of amusement park for you: large or small. Maybe a zoo, instead."
"I hate you." Her mind, however, just groans and runs and hides.
Adel's mind chases to scoop Emma's in a laughing embrace, and then he leads her through and to the kitchen. "Yeah," he says with idle smugness. Haha. Statue. Not even his idea, but still awesome! "You definitely need a drink."
Emma gets a delivery! Adel likes it. Maybe she should put it in /his/ living room.
12/23/2007
Logfile from Emma.
=NYC= White Queen's Suite - Second Floor - Hellfire Clubhouse
The heart of the White Queen's rule reflects her color and her taste. Spotless white carpet covers the floor, and flawless white paint coats the walls, all but the outer one, which boasts a single, huge picture window that surveys the gardens and the East River beyond them. A lushly upholstered couch in the corner offers a perch for enjoying that view or simply relaxing, with an end table and lamp at hand for reading.
The furniture is as minimalist and modern as the dcor. The desk is a single slab of brushed aluminum, curving down and under itself for support. A trio of ultra-slim flat-panel displays extends out of the desk's surface on articulated arms adjustable to any orientation; touch-sensitive panels supplant keyboard and mouse for a variety of interface options. The computer itself lies behind a wall: easily accessible when needed and discreetly invisible when not. A sweeping throne of a chair sits behind the desk, its seat and back crafted of brushed aluminum to match the desk. Two rather more modest chairs crouch in front of the desk, available for supplicants or other guests.
A door leads to an adjoining suite, where white reigns with a regal decisiveness softened by fine fabrics, lush carpeting, and the suffusion of well-bred taste. The bed stands sleek with satins and down-plumped pillows, its ash-blond frame matching the wood of its paired nightstands and the long, low-slung bureau against one silk-papered wall. Across the room, layers of gauze curtain shield tall windows; a high-backed armchair reigns in a corner there, attended by wide ottoman and neat reading lamp.
One door leads out to the office, another into a large walk-in closet filled with a complete wardrobe, and yet another opens in on a bathroom of echoing design and decor. White marble lies cool and waiting in tub and sinks; the white tile of floor and walls hoards dull reflections. Fixtures gleam silver, like the vanity mirror's frame, and support a ranked rack of towels by the shower stall, the white cloths perfectly monogrammed, fluffed, and arranged for their mistress.
Lazy Sundays are the best kind of Sundays. Emma is settled on the floor with her back up against one of the sofas, Almas laying on her feet, and a novel of questionable enjoyment, if not questionable literary significance, in her hand. She isn't reading it, however. At the moment, she is too busy convincing Adel that he cannot get her a minature bridle set for Magneto's Christmas gift. "...we /just/ got the carpets replaced."
"But it is /funny/," Adel argues as he lazily draws the brush through Emma's hair, with the weight of it gathered in his hand. Braiding it only to unbraid it, he is between one braid the next as he luxuriates in the feel of it. Touchy, touchy! Sprawled on the sofa behind her, he leans in over her to give her a Serious Look. "We can always replace carpets. Rarely do we have a chance for such fun."
Emma gives him an arch look back. "You find someone to ride the thing up and down the halls tomorrow night, and I will make sure he is here." See? She's not /that/ much of a spoil sport. Their conversation is interrupted by the intercom's chirp followed by a few seconds of dead air. A moment later, a pawn knocks on her door. At Emma's called invitation, she enters, holding the door behind her as she stands sideways in the door. "Sorry to interrupt, Ms. Frost, but..." Emma lifts a brow and puts the book down, but doesn't say anything. "There is a delivery for you, and we need to know if we should accept it."
Adel looks thoughtful, mentally going through the lists of pawns during the interruption, beginning and ending with the woman who steps in. "Is it explosive?" he asks of Emma more than the pawn, voice low with laughter as he shifts with a stretch to set the brush down on a side table. With one last stroke of his fingers against her neck, he allows the hair to fall, blond strands slithering into place. "Does it breathe? Mew, bark, or neigh? Does it have a /bow/ on it?"
"No, but it did have a letter." She crosses the room to hand the letter off to Emma, who takes it and breaks the seal. There is very little physical reaction to it's contents, but telepathically... well. She groans silently, only needing to read the signed name. The rest of the contents are then skimmed aloud mentally before she shifts Almas off her feet and climbing up. "Christmas needs to be abolished. I'll be right there." The pawn nods and turns to hurry out of the room and relay the "hold" message to those at the door.
"I love Christmas," Adel says lightly as he moves after Emma. Light on his feet, he slips an arm around her waist in brief embrace that serves as an excuse to near enough to read the letter over her shoulder, checking it against the broadcast version for all the little details pure words can't convey: paper, handwriting, signature, etc. "Gosh. Does it really say 'statue'?"
Emma rolls her eyes and pinches his arm before escaping toward the door. She stuffs her feet into a pair of slippers before padding out and down the hall. Anticipatory dread trails after her.
Unrepentant, Adel follows Emma with a doggy good-cheer rather terribly similar to that of Almas. Hands folded behind his back, he grins in silence as he heads to the door. In his mind, he imagines various possible permutations on the whole statue thing.
None of them can prepare him for the sight of the eighteen wheeler with its back open and the workers attempting to disgorge the behemoth inside. By the time he arrives, Emma is standing stock still on the porch, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, mind broadcasting white noise of shock. It is huge. Only halfway pulled free, the statue inside is on its back, and the curve of a sea-shell cupped breast is just clearing the side of the trailer.
Adel goes, "Hee," in a barely-stiffled titter of hilarity. He clears his throat hastily, a far more manly noise, and glances at Emma sidelong.
Emma reaches out to grab his arm without looking. Her fingers wrap into the fabric of his shirt and her nails dig. "Is that..." It would be impossible not to recognize the general gist of the carving.
Adel makes a rounded gesture, and then delineates the curve of a hip with the skim of his hand through the air: measuring, perhaps, the proportions of the statue against muscle-memory. "Yup."
"But I..." She stops. "Who would..." Her hand tightens and she turns toward him, a mildly manic look in her eyes. "A /statue/?"
Grin bright, Adel glances over the broad expanse of the Club grounds. "Where should we put it?"
The statue is now free of the truck, and she watches in fascinated horror as they stand it upright. It rises up even higher than the steps, and now the glitter of blue is clearly seen in the weak winter sunlight. Her fingers grow cold on Adel's shirt. "Can we get a signature now?" the truck foreman asks again, the target undefined, but generally directed at Emma. After all, it sure does /look/ like her statue.
"Made quite an impression on Halloween, didn't you?" Adel says lightly, slipping his free hand into his pocket and leaning back on his heels with a jaunty bounce. He clearly finds this hilarious.
Clearly. Emma holds her hand out for the clipboard and releases Adel's arm to scrawl her name across the bottom. "I..." She stops and gathers herself with a deeply inhaled breath and shake of her head. "I have made impressions before. Generally, they result in jewelry of some sort. This..." She flaps her hand at the thing. This isn't jewelry. "Can we put it in the river?"
"No," Adel vetoes decisively. Bishop's prerogative! "Maybe the hedge maze."
"It looks cold." Emma's voice is a little bit strangled.
"The statue does?" Adel asks, all innocent. "We could find a jacket for it. Maybe a quilt. Big quilt. Tie it around her neck."
"Yes. Do that." She creeps forward a couple steps and squints her eyes as she looks over the thing. The delivery men start to pack up there things. "Wait! You can't just leave it /here/."
Rubbing at his arms as Emma moves away, Adel shifts from foot to foot. His grin is a /touch/ manic. "Where to put it, where to put it. We'll have to hire someone to help move it."
"Where you want it then?" the foreman asks, and Emma has no answer for him. So she merely waves him off weakly and steps down a step, and seats herself on the top row. Her fingers press against her lips as she just /looks/ at the thing. "Its eyes follow me," she whimperwhispers.
"You know, this is a good time for mulled wine. I have no idea what is in mulled wine," Adel says as he reaches down to pull Emma to her feet. He waves over one of the staff, and points at the foreman. "Have it put in back, somewhere. By the gardening sheds, maybe. Whatever. We'll deal with it later." Back to Emma, then: "It's cold, and you need a drink. Let's go."
As Emma is pulled up, she suddenly bursts into laughter, leaning against Adel for support. "A statue. It has to be twenty feet if it is an inch. Why have you never gotten me a statue?"
"Lack of initiative." Looping his arm in Emma's, Adel proceeds to draw her back through the Club as a crowd slowly gathers to gawk. More than one person looks between Emma and BigEmma and then back again. "Lack of -- God, braindamage. Percy's going to be jealous. That completely beats out his presents for you. Ever."
Emma rolls her eyes skyward and sends a silent question to the heavens along the lines of 'Why?!' before they disappear inside. "Adel, promise me no present from you? At the rate things are going, I am going to end up with a miniature amusement park before this holiday runs its course."
"I can make no such promise," Adel says with a slight shake of his head. "Although I /will/ says that I won't get any sort of amusement park for you: large or small. Maybe a zoo, instead."
"I hate you." Her mind, however, just groans and runs and hides.
Adel's mind chases to scoop Emma's in a laughing embrace, and then he leads her through and to the kitchen. "Yeah," he says with idle smugness. Haha. Statue. Not even his idea, but still awesome! "You definitely need a drink."
Emma gets a delivery! Adel likes it. Maybe she should put it in /his/ living room.