Ficlet: "Coup De Grace". Emma/Sebastian, Rated T.
Title: Coup de grace
Author: Sionnain
Characters/Pairing: Emma Frost/Sebastian Shaw, 616-Verse
Prompt for 50_Darkfics: 07, Awakening.
Word Count: 450
Summary: One afternoon in May, Sebastian Shaw meets Emma Frost.
AN: Written for the fandom_arcana “Three of Pentacles” Challenge. The traditional meaning of the card is summarized as learn your task, earn your keep. Thanks to kaz814 for the beta! Quote below the cut is from the Leonard Cohen song, The Future. Which is an awesome song.
Coup de grace
I’ve seen the future, brother: it is murder.
They meet one afternoon in May, bright sunlight streaming through the pristine windows of the Club’s New York penthouse. He’s wearing his practiced smile, urbane and welcoming and utterly empty. He rises politely to meet this new telepath of whom he’s been told. If what he has heard is true…
Things shall be changing very, very soon.
“Mr. Shaw. Lovely to meet you.” Her voice is cultured and gives nothing away as she strides forward, obviously at ease in the presence of wealth. Her eyes remain fixed upon him, ignoring the priceless antiques and the thick rugs beneath her heels.
“Miss Frost,” he intones politely, reaching for her hand when she stands before him. Her skin is soft as satin beneath his fingers. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”
He straightens and lifts his gaze to hers. Her eyes remind him of the ocean; fathomless and shifting, full of things that could kill. His fingers tighten around her wrist, just a little. Pleasure and pain, the hallmark of the Hellfire Club. Everything he has to offer her is tainted with either ecstatic sighs or bone-chilling screams.
It’s the way of the world. Sebastian’s beginning to find the two nigh indistinguishable. He wonders if she will, in time.
Emma smiles slowly in response to his platitude, and her eyes shine for a moment with delight. Sebastian hears her voice in his mind, soft and subtly amused. I do hope the pleasure won’t be all yours, Mr. Shaw. . The warmth of her honeyed drawl is undercut with a chill, like the hint of winter’s ascent in the last lingering days of autumn.
“Indeed,” Sebastian drawls, and releases her hand with a flourish. She’s a shark, this one, and if she takes to the waters without drowning-ah, what fun they shall have. Possibilities dance like dust in the sunlight, tempting and teasing at the edge of his mind
It’s only a matter of time, now that the perfect weapon has just waltzed into his office, with her crystalline eyes and her Jezebel’s smile. Paris and Ned are clueless-they won’t know a thing until it’s too late, until it’s all over. Together, he and this magnificent creature before him can rule the Inner Circle.
Black Bishop to White King. Checkmate.
The king is dead. Long live the king.
Sebastian thinks Emma shall look very good in white.
Author: Sionnain
Characters/Pairing: Emma Frost/Sebastian Shaw, 616-Verse
Prompt for 50_Darkfics: 07, Awakening.
Word Count: 450
Summary: One afternoon in May, Sebastian Shaw meets Emma Frost.
AN: Written for the fandom_arcana “Three of Pentacles” Challenge. The traditional meaning of the card is summarized as learn your task, earn your keep. Thanks to kaz814 for the beta! Quote below the cut is from the Leonard Cohen song, The Future. Which is an awesome song.
Coup de grace
I’ve seen the future, brother: it is murder.
They meet one afternoon in May, bright sunlight streaming through the pristine windows of the Club’s New York penthouse. He’s wearing his practiced smile, urbane and welcoming and utterly empty. He rises politely to meet this new telepath of whom he’s been told. If what he has heard is true…
Things shall be changing very, very soon.
“Mr. Shaw. Lovely to meet you.” Her voice is cultured and gives nothing away as she strides forward, obviously at ease in the presence of wealth. Her eyes remain fixed upon him, ignoring the priceless antiques and the thick rugs beneath her heels.
“Miss Frost,” he intones politely, reaching for her hand when she stands before him. Her skin is soft as satin beneath his fingers. “The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”
He straightens and lifts his gaze to hers. Her eyes remind him of the ocean; fathomless and shifting, full of things that could kill. His fingers tighten around her wrist, just a little. Pleasure and pain, the hallmark of the Hellfire Club. Everything he has to offer her is tainted with either ecstatic sighs or bone-chilling screams.
It’s the way of the world. Sebastian’s beginning to find the two nigh indistinguishable. He wonders if she will, in time.
Emma smiles slowly in response to his platitude, and her eyes shine for a moment with delight. Sebastian hears her voice in his mind, soft and subtly amused. I do hope the pleasure won’t be all yours, Mr. Shaw. . The warmth of her honeyed drawl is undercut with a chill, like the hint of winter’s ascent in the last lingering days of autumn.
“Indeed,” Sebastian drawls, and releases her hand with a flourish. She’s a shark, this one, and if she takes to the waters without drowning-ah, what fun they shall have. Possibilities dance like dust in the sunlight, tempting and teasing at the edge of his mind
It’s only a matter of time, now that the perfect weapon has just waltzed into his office, with her crystalline eyes and her Jezebel’s smile. Paris and Ned are clueless-they won’t know a thing until it’s too late, until it’s all over. Together, he and this magnificent creature before him can rule the Inner Circle.
Black Bishop to White King. Checkmate.
The king is dead. Long live the king.
Sebastian thinks Emma shall look very good in white.