e.frost (emmagrace) wrote in ageofmarvels, @ 2016-02-13 12:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | white queen |
Narrative: Emma Frost was always the Queen. But her King, the blonde’s intellectual equal, was gone.
Characters: Emma Frost
Location: Frost International Headquarters -- Downtown Boston, Massachusetts, USA
Timeline: Backdated February 12, 2016 - 4:32 PM
Description: Emma searches for Charles Xavier telepathically with no luck.
Rating: PG-13
She couldn’t feel it. His comfort, his power, his intelligence -- it was gone. At least a few times during the day, Emma Frost would enter her office, sip tea from her mug and then feel the psychic rapport of the strongest telepath in the world. It was like a lover’s breath against the back of her neck, somewhat soothing yet irritating nonetheless. But today was different. Today was odd. The feeling of being watched faded the moment she entered her office. It wasn’t the cameras, nor was it her guard standing beyond the grand doorway that led into her massive office, but that soul-bound essence that made a Cheshire cat grin fall through her facial facade was no longer around. What was different? Emma Frost wanted to wonder as she faced the world below. They all looked like ants to her, as they were, mere insects in a hive controlled by its Queen. Emma Frost was always the Queen. But her King, the blonde’s intellectual equal, was gone. She could feel it, and at the same time, she couldn’t. Closing her blue eyes, Emma sat in thought for a second. She concentrated, using her abilities to try and pin-point the location of Charles Xavier. Nothing. Something was going on beyond her comprehension, and Emma never was one for surprises. One could say her time with telepathy has enabled a dear hate for surprises. She was a knowledgeable individual, and as such needed to know why she could not feel it. He was strong but never had she been cut off from his presence. It was impossible. She knew it was impossible. Still, a well manicured fingertip continued to press against her temple, an aligned eyebrow curving with a developed interest. Something happened, and Emma Frost would be sure to comprehend the happenings. If not for her corporation’s sake, it was a mutual interest within her conscious mind. Slowly, fingertips fell against the leather of the chair’s hand rest, Emma’s eyes retaining its closed positioning as her door was opened by an attractive male. "Emma, your flight is ready." A response did not come vocally. Instead, Emma's hand flicked upward, signaling for the male to exit. Just as quickly as he entered, the male turned around without further inquiry and exited from the office. Observing the outside world for but the briefest of moments, Emma opened her eyes and stood from the white leather that accentuated her body. She wore all white, the finest of cloth, and allowed her body to flourish through it. A bra, pants, and knee-high high-heeled boots made up her attire, covering everything with a flowing white coat. Gucci, it was the death of the poor and the birth of those that threw money around as carelessly as Emma did. Never had she paid any mind to price tags. Her family didn’t have to, and the public knew it. They loved Emma Frost, C.E.O. of Frost International, and those that didn’t would soon feel a change of heart. Before she reached the edge of her office, her front doors opened as ordered mentally, hips moving like uncontained liquid, as she started for her jet. "Contact the mansion. Indulge them of my arrival." "Yes, Miss Frost." Emma sighed. She did hate traveling hundreds of miles across cities, but this was something that needed to be settled. It needed to be recognized. Opportunities were aplenty if her hypothesis was as close as she thought it was. As much of a sad day it would be if her thoughts were correct, Frost could not allow her business partners to just phase from existence. Especially not those that she was beginning to respect. PZZZZZZTTT!! Her phone buzzed. Most of the time she simply ignored it, but her curiosity had already been peaked for the day that the urge to actually look at her cellular device, created by her own manufacturers solely for her personal purposes, wasn't too much to ask. Her blue-painted lips parted, letting out a concerned gasp. "Keep the television off," she demanded. If the headline of her CNN notification to her phone read any truth, she needn't waste her time being forced to watch sensationalized media and having to feel so many mixed emotions all at once. If it was at all reality, she would get enough of that once she landed in Salem Center, New York. The engines of the jet hummed to life as her assistant made the call to Xavier's School a room behind her. Crossing her legs, Emma poured herself a glass of white wine, peering outside of the soon to be airborne vehicle seemingly annoyed. At least this was the mask she allowed others to perceive. Closing her eyes once more, Emma continued to scan, and she would not finish until her desired results came to fruition. |