Emma Grace (white_diamonds) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-05-03 09:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, emma frost (white queen) |
Who: Emma Frost [Narrative]
What: Emma coming to terms with her first dream. Kinda.
Where: Her place of business
When: Today
Status: Complete
Rating: G
Something was happening. Emma was loathe to admit it, even to herself, but that didn't mean that she couldn't feel a subtle change coming. For the past four days, the drive to work had filled her with a sense of unshakable dread. The last remaining memories of the dream from the night before clung to her, no matter how many extra expresso shots were in her coffee. While she tried very hard to ignore what Scott had said of dreams that seemed impossibly real and brushed aside Jean's concerns about her own weird dreams, Emma was trying very hard to not let the images from the night before alter her behavior.
But she suspected this might be a losing battle.
When she got to work, Emma seemed the same to the coworkers, but it wasn't as though they really knew her. She passed them by with a sticky sweet smile on her face and her usual air of detached judgement hanging around her like a cloud. It was clear that though she was a mid-level employee, she didn't see herself as one. And, really, why would she? Her daddy was the boss and she'd take over his spot one day. Probably sooner rather than later. Though she felt odd, Emma didn't act much different than she normally would. She flirted with Tom in the hallways, avoided Jack in elevators. She kept to herself when there was work to be done and didn't mingle with the messy looking underlings that she felt were beneath her.
Emma was a model employee. She learned and improved and got promoted on her own merit, even though other employees didn't think this to be the case and whispered among themselves about the unfairness of it all. Emma almost felt normal, save for the inexplicable bad mood she couldn't rid herself of. It might have been tolerable, had she not been forced to interact with Winston from time to time.
But of course that was impossible. After lunch, she saw her father walking up toward her and had to swallow a bitter taste that was rising in her throat. Emma watched him walk toward her with narrowed eyes, the memory of his dream-self too much to forget. The pleasantries they shared seemed empty to Emma, incredibly fake. This was something new; a week ago, she'd have been delighted to have a visit from her father.
When he left, she watched him walk away and felt in her heart the deepest sort of loathing for the man. It was utterly ridiculous, as he'd done nothing in the waking world to deserve this. And yet Emma could only remember the cruelty in his voice, saw only manipulation in his movement. In her dreams, he'd sent Christian away to an institution and though Emma didn't have any real reason to know this, she was entirely aware that he was doing it to spite her. Night after night, he broke the family apart, over and over again, using children as playthings and pitting them against one another.
It wasn't fair of Emma to hate him over a dream. She knew this. It was barely sane to react so strongly simply because of a stupid bad dream. And yet, she couldn't shake the negative emotions. Because of this, she felt herself changing, her ambition shrinking away and new ideas sprouting silently in the back of her head. Emma didn't know what she was doing, but realized she needed to do something and soon.