2017-12-19 - White and Red All Over

It's a bad time to be Emma. This is end of term. When she actually has to do *shudder* routine work. Paperwork. Of the sort that can't just be shoved off onto underlings. Oh, no, not marking. She does that in her own way: picking brains. Literally. No, this is the administrivia of putting marks into the computer, filling in the required reports, and just generally being the computer's little bitch. And she's just the guidance councilor. Man, what the full-time teachers must have to put up with!"        Her phonograph has something Wagnerian playing. Sounds like ... Oh oh. Die Walkure. The Valkyrie. She's in a mood....        Surely it's the right time to interrupt?

Jean Grey goes to knock over on the door then. The redhead's knock isn't insistent, which means it's somewhat more involved than a casual dropin of 'hi how are you' but somewhat less than 'we need to talk' presuming Emma was an expert when it came to reading someone at the door (which in fairness this was Jean so it was probably something that came out somewhat often). On the other hand, it would be a reason to put aside the busywork for at least awhile, in any hope.. Presuming she was let in or told to skedaddle, Jean would wait to be responded to then as her hand went back down from the door.

Emma sighs and quickly shoves the makework out of the way, cleaning and tidying the desk in professional efficiency, then turning her eye on the room to ensure everything was right. She adjusts a throw cushion, takes a careful, artful casual pose, then says, "Come." The soundproof door opens, spilling loud, angry German opera into the hall.

Jean Grey isn't phased by the opera, and goes to head on in, "Are you all right?" She asks quietly before going to stand up then and relax with her hands on her waist. "I had a couple of things I wanted to ask you, if it was a good time." Still polite - which might aggravate or might relax some. By the tone o fher voice, it wasn't on school things.

"Jean," Emma artificially smiles. "It's always a good time for my favourite headmaster," she says. Her voice is dangerously level. Flat, even. Like she's trying to be Diamond Frost without the diamond form. "What can I do for you Jean? Tired of the swill they serve in the cafeteria and come for a good tipple?"

Jean Grey kicks one leg up and over the other. "Two things." She offers quietly, "First, you're holding in quite a bit and I wanted to make sure you were all right." She rests her hands over on her leg. "The other was I had an idea for a possible tactic to use against the Lanterns if they attack the school." ooc :presumes 'restrained by Emma standards' is 'planning total murder'.

Emma shifts to glasslike form and then back again, seemingly without noticing. "I'm holding nothing in," she purrs. Unconvincingly. "I... just need to find my favourite wine glass." She affects a search for the named piece, looking around in cupboards. There's an obviously well-used wine glass standing on her desk. It's about 1/4 full.

Emma shifts to glasslike form and then back again, seemingly without noticing. "I'm holding nothing in," she purrs. Unconvincingly. "I... just need to find my favourite wine glass." She affects a search for the named piece, looking around in cupboards. There's an obviously well-used wine glass standing on her desk. It's about 1/4 full. "I can't really enjoy a good wine without the right accoutrements. Silly, I know. It doesn't change the flavour, but it's an essential part of the experience."

She looks over at the table and the glass obviously there. Jean gently rests her hands on her lap. "And i know you probably don'twant to talk to me, but I at least want to offer it to you." Her tone is genuinely concerned. Jean Grey shakes her head quietly, "Emma, everything is not all right." She looks over at the table and the glass obviously there. Jean gently rests her hands on her lap. "And i know you probably don'twant to talk to me, but I at least want to offer it to you." Her tone is genuinely concerned.

Emma turns to face Jean. Face bland. To those unaccustomed to her expressions, that is. Those who know her, especially those who can read what little leaks from behind her perpetual shields, can see the turmoil. "What time of year is it, Jean?" she asks quietly. "What do I have to deal with at this time of year?" She pauses, then adds for emphasis, "WHO do I have to deal with at this time of year?" She grabs the glass she was "searching" for and fills it from the bottle next to it. The bottle already half-gone. "I'm never happy at the end of terms. I never will be."

And Jean knows. Jean knows all too well. Her hand goes up and over to rest if it'sa llowed over on the wrist of Emma, and wait there for a second. "I did have a thought over on that, if it was something you would be up for considering." She asks gently over to Emma,a nd then if permitted goes on. "We have memorials in the gardens, for those who have given their lives. I would, if you would be all right with it, having one installed for them and having a memorial. It's something that we should have done years ago." Jean lends her support to Emma - so long as it's allowed

"I don't want to remember, Jean. I want them back." Emma turns her head away briefly, adjusting a fictitious stray strand of hair that just happens to be near her eye. And if there's a slight trace of dampness on her cheek when she turns her head back, well ... a hair probably irritated the eye, right? "You ... I ... they ... weren't just my students, Jean. They were my sons and daughters. They were my friends. They were, in every way imaginable but the physical, my lovers. I was closer to them than I've been to anybody." Fury is leaking through her barriers. Either the fury is overpowering them or she's losing control. Neither is really a good option. "A memorial? Might as well just stick a knife into what's left of my heart!"

Jean Grey takes her hand out gently to squeeze at Emma's wrist. "I'm sorry, Emma. And if that were in my power, I would do so. If I had the power again, I would do so." Her own tone isn't close to cracking. But it's understanding. "And I know that nothing here will ever approach them. But all we can do is honor them and forge ahead. And remember them." Jean's voice isn't close to cracking. But it's one that knows loss all too well. And Jean is either trying to be comforting or understanding Emma needs to lash out brutally.

"Laura..." Emma's voice trails off. "Laura won't replace them. Nobody ever will. But she's ... she can heal. Me, I mean." Emma chuckles, her high-handed superiority laugh. The mask. "She can heal herself quite adeptly as well, thankfully." She turns her face to study Jean's as she says the next words. "She's my newest Hellion, Jean. But ... not Hellion. I'm ... I ... She's to be free. Free to make her choices, even if they go against my desires. But she's my newest ... whatever the FUCKING HELL name I come up with." Those two words are shouted. Startlingly loudly shouted. "I can't use the old name. It's wrong ... in so many ways. But you and I both know, I'm not in the X mindset. Not really." She starts pacing. "All this, this ... what I'm doing. This is pennance. Charles and I can't agree on the one fundamental of his school: equality. So I'm not training an X-woman. I'm training something else. Someone part Hellion, part X-woman, all ... herself at her fullest potential." She spins on Jean. "She won't be an enemy--not like my Hel..." She gulps back something. It sounds physical. "My former students," she finishes. "That was a mistake; it was counter-productive to both our causes. Only the humans benefitted from our fighting. But she'll not be an X-woman unless she decides to of her own volition." A defiant pose. "Like I'm not really an X-woman," she says clearly and distinctly. "But not an enemy any longer."

Jean Grey goes to take her hand up to gently brush Emma's fingers, squeezing them quietly. "We all need to heal and to mourn, Emma. Some things never heal. Some wounds never close. Sometimes we can't move on. And Laura will be better than any of us. She has potential.. All we need to do is put her in a place tht she can make her own decisions on it." Jean takes the yell, her head attentive. She goes to just nod at the rest of the words from Emma. "We don't always agree on things, Emma. You, I, and Charles don't see eye to eye on many things. But what you're doing here isn't penance. You've not done naything worthy of it." She offers gently. "And I think I've done things that are worse,far, far worse." She looks so small for a few moments, looking over to the wall. "And you're a goo dperson, Emma Grace Frost. Not all of us are. And we all make mistakes. What changes is that we learn from them and try not to repeat them." Thenher tone is quiet, approving, and a bit firmer. "And you'll make Laura the best she feels she can be. And you are an X-Woman, Emma. You always have been, always will be."

"I can't be, Jean. I think we're fighting for our existence. I'm not crazed like Magneto, but I am certain that mutants and humans cannot cohabit with humans running things. WE are destined to rule, Jean. You and me. We're the seeds of the new aristocracy." She shakes her head, bringing a shaking hand up to her lips with the wine and gulping a large amount inelegantly. "Not Magneto's thing of destroying or Sebastian's of enslaving. Proper aristocracy with noblesse obl..." She stops. "We've had this conversation before," she says wearily. "I'm not in a state to have it again." She reaches out to grab Jean's shoulder, squeezing it. "Thank you, however, for all your overtures and attempts to be friends with me. It's appreciated, even if I can't return it, the way I am."

ean Grey smiles a bit, "Emma, we are not going to rule the world. I'm sorry.." Her tone is a little firm. "Have you -seen- all those outfits they put me in those alternate timelines? I look horrid in all of them. Whatever there is iwth the future and world domination, none of them have any sort of appreciable sense of fashion, and I'm not sure even you would be able to save that." That would hopefully get a guffaw. A loud, mad guffaw. " We have our different ways of going and trying to change things for the better. I might not agree with you. Or yowu tih me. But your heart is in the right place. And we have to know people look ta things differently. Because if we're all the same.." She shrugs her shoulders. Her hand going up to squeeze at Emma's wrist.

Emma just staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaares. Complex emotions are flicking across her face at spaceship speeds. She snorts. Looks shocked at herself. Snorts again, ending with a choked-off giggle. "Damn you!" she says. "How am I supposed to stay angry and depressed!?" Another giggle bubbles from her lips. She looks aghast. "I CAN'T WORK UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!" she shouts melodramatically, like a diva at an opera whining about the dressing room. Then she dissolves into increasingly hysterical laughter, laughter that weakens her knees to the point she sinks to the nearest seat, even if that's the floor. Laughter that mingles freely with tears.

The 'It' can only mean the Phoenix. "And they were scared of it. And.. It made me think. That hting used my face to kill billions. Whole planets. Star systems. People will alwys see me and be afraid. I will always be defined by terror and fear. I do not want that to be what I leave behind, Emma." She goes quietly her fingers moving up to squeeze your body and goes to hold you against her. "I can't be better. I can just remember I have to live with myself, and what I've done. And all I can do is keep going forwards and hope that someime else can learn from what I've done. And compared to anyone else here.. Magneto, Creed, you.. I'm by far the greatest villain of them all." Her tone is quiet and firm, her gently holding you to her if you permitted.

What a pair they make. The ice queen blubbing like a schoolgirl hurt by her first crush. The ginger comforting her past her own demons. Thankfully no students have the nerve to walk into an instructor's room or Emma would have to do something pointlessly hideous to them to re-establish her rep. Emma's quaking subsides, both from the laughter and the tears. She remains seated on the floor, legs curled around herself, visibly trying to regain her composure. Not trying to break free of Jean's grasp. Not, at least, until she gets her control back. "I'm sorry, Jean," she says, back in control. "That unseemly display was uncalled for. My paltry troubles aren't a burden for you to bear. Please forgive me." The ice queen is back. Barely.

Jean Grey leans in and gives a gentle kiss to Emma's cheek. "They are, Emma. You're part of the family here. That will never change. I want to make sure that you remember you're never alone. You always have the rest of us to lean on. That goes doubly for me. Because I have to doit to make penance formyself." The hug is for as long is as tolerated maintained. And Jean does not move other than to give reassurance oer to Emma. "We'd better make sure that no one's out in the hallway or they might do something like sneak a photograph of it and both of us will be blackmailed forever." Attempting to get another laugh.

The attempt almost succeeds. Emma's diaphram shakes briefly, but the laugh is culled before it can be born. "Blackmail you, I think," she says. "Everybody knows I'm a libertine already. Why if I'm to believe the rumours I've slept with half the staff and a quarter the student base. The rest I've merely fucked." Her eyes are alight with dark mischief. "Indeed according to the rumours I seduced you second after Charles."

Jean Grey pffts softly, "Don't be silly dear, we both know that according to the grapevine that Charles only has eyes for Magnus in the end." She coyly flutters her eyelashes not mentioning -how- she had come across that bit of gossip. "And you know what attention we both pay to rumors. I flail at them and you cackle at them. Then you correct them in the proper use of 'libertine'."

"I've always preferred "profligate" myself. It seems to capture the essence better. "Libertine" implies too much sexuality to describe me properly. My immorality covers much more than mere sex."

Jean Grey mm-hmms, "So fine then. How do you define the extent of your immorality? Presuming that we're limiting ourselves to the real, rather than the imagined. Because I'm sure with the student body they'll come up with things so aghast even the two of us would be slack jawled in amazement at thier creativity."

"I drink like a fish, will fuck anything that catches my fancy, male or female, attached or otherwise, don't particularly care if strangers live or die, and am plotting to overthrow the human race as rulers of the world." Emma thinks a moment. "Am I missing anything?" She pauses, taking another sip of wine -- a sip this time, not a convulsive gulp. "Oh, and I listen to Cyndi Lauper when nobody else is around."

Jean Grey just pffts, "Sorry, I was expecting something a lot better from you, Emma. That's hardly even vaudevillian. I expected you to have far higher standards when it came to schemes of depravity and diabolicism." She lightly flicks your nose gently with ehr finger.s

"OK, you're right," Emma says, chastened. "It's the Monkees."

Jean Grey nods, "That's not nearly as bad. I mean, Hank has worse taste. If you sneak by his lab at three am, you'll hear him singing Britney Spears."

Shock. Genuine shock. "That's terrible! Someone should put him out of his misery." She purses her lips, then fetches a cigarette, lighting it and taking a puff. "Or I could just edit him to have proper taste. What would you prefer to hear from Hank's lab?"

Jean Grey mms, "WEll, wehre's the fun in that. He thinks he's safe and it's his secret. So spread the word and then just tell him that Bobby's the one that's doing it and the situation will resolve itself."