![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queen_frostThe condo was a high rise, and was impeccably clean. Just because one didn't live in a place year round did not mean one did not pay good help to clean the property. She stepped into it, appreciating her things more than the order of the place. In her life, she had never wanted for anything. An expensive condo in New York city full of artwork, furniture, and vases that were likely worth more than some people's homes was simply a fact of life. She was the upper class, the elite, the bloody 1%.
That was why the recent turn in her life was frustrating. She had lost Scott, the one man who had actually given a damn about her, to a goddamn bird. He had betrayed her. That was that. In all truth, she could accept that turn of events. It bothered her, but she could move on. Emma Frost could always move on. What she simply could not abide by was her malfunctioning, severely impaired telepathy.
She stalked across the condo to the window and stared down at the people far, far below her. They were so distant, but she knew they shouldn't be. Each and every one of their tedious little minds should be an open book to her. She glared down at them, willing their thoughts to open to her. Nothing happened. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she frowned. Nothing. Silence. So much silence. Too much silence. She was alone. After finding what she thought would finally be her home, she was alone. Not even the Hellfire Club was the same any more. It was run by a bunch of tiny tots with aspirations of grandeur and a hatred of mutants. Of all the bloody ironies. Not that she would return to it if she could. Oh no. She did not go backwards. Her pride wouldn't allow anything so meek and mewling as that. Emma would go forward. The only problem was which way, and she did not know that yet.
Or rather, she did. She did not relish the thought of going to jail, but perhaps, if she could find a good lawyer, she could stand trial and prove that she was innocent. There had to be many angles. Cyclops had coerced her. No, that could still leave her as an accomplice, even if unwitting. The most she could hope for was a deal, and she would not betray him or the others. Pin the blame on the Avengers, then? The idea held merit. Tony Stark was responsible for splitting the Phoenix force and shoving it into her, after all. From that point onward, she had been possessed. Can a possessed person be held accountable for her crimes? Should Stark be tried for manslaughter? Mm. Some lawyer would score an actual precedent with this one, and she would earn her good name back.
In the meantime, she just just wanted her powers back. Damn that man!!! Damn his idiotic obsession with a goddamn fiery bird that probably linked back to his feelings for a dead woman.
[Fuck you, Scott Summers].
Down below, several people looked around, confused. She'd projected without meaning to again.
"GodDAMN IT!!! She screeched, and punched through the glass with a suddenly diamond fist. The cold wind whipped into the condo. She would have it fixed tomorrow. For now, she needed wine, and plenty of it.
That was why the recent turn in her life was frustrating. She had lost Scott, the one man who had actually given a damn about her, to a goddamn bird. He had betrayed her. That was that. In all truth, she could accept that turn of events. It bothered her, but she could move on. Emma Frost could always move on. What she simply could not abide by was her malfunctioning, severely impaired telepathy.
She stalked across the condo to the window and stared down at the people far, far below her. They were so distant, but she knew they shouldn't be. Each and every one of their tedious little minds should be an open book to her. She glared down at them, willing their thoughts to open to her. Nothing happened. Her eyes narrowed to slits and she frowned. Nothing. Silence. So much silence. Too much silence. She was alone. After finding what she thought would finally be her home, she was alone. Not even the Hellfire Club was the same any more. It was run by a bunch of tiny tots with aspirations of grandeur and a hatred of mutants. Of all the bloody ironies. Not that she would return to it if she could. Oh no. She did not go backwards. Her pride wouldn't allow anything so meek and mewling as that. Emma would go forward. The only problem was which way, and she did not know that yet.
Or rather, she did. She did not relish the thought of going to jail, but perhaps, if she could find a good lawyer, she could stand trial and prove that she was innocent. There had to be many angles. Cyclops had coerced her. No, that could still leave her as an accomplice, even if unwitting. The most she could hope for was a deal, and she would not betray him or the others. Pin the blame on the Avengers, then? The idea held merit. Tony Stark was responsible for splitting the Phoenix force and shoving it into her, after all. From that point onward, she had been possessed. Can a possessed person be held accountable for her crimes? Should Stark be tried for manslaughter? Mm. Some lawyer would score an actual precedent with this one, and she would earn her good name back.
In the meantime, she just just wanted her powers back. Damn that man!!! Damn his idiotic obsession with a goddamn fiery bird that probably linked back to his feelings for a dead woman.
[Fuck you, Scott Summers].
Down below, several people looked around, confused. She'd projected without meaning to again.
"GodDAMN IT!!! She screeched, and punched through the glass with a suddenly diamond fist. The cold wind whipped into the condo. She would have it fixed tomorrow. For now, she needed wine, and plenty of it.
