Sax 5th Avenue
Roleplaying Log: Sax 5th Avenue
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

Emma Frost entertains a different kind of guest: her butler's daughter.

Other Characters Referenced: Tony Stark
IC Date: October 14, 2019
IC Location: Emma Frost's Penthouse, New York City, NY
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 11 Dec 2019 11:44
Rating & Warnings: G
Scene Soundtrack: None
NPC & GM Credits: Kennis by Emery
Associated Plots

Turning 7 is going to be a big deal. Okay? So Kennis knows there’s some things she is going to need to do in order to pull more of her weight. Daddy doesn’t say this is necessary and all her Aunties and Uncles wouldn’t agree. But, the proof is in the pudding. The pudding is Daddy’s birthday is on Halloween Month.

This is why, she sweetly asked to stay home from school and go to work with Emery. This is also why, there’s a small girl settled on Emma’s couch. Mocha Drop skin speaks to her mixed heritage, but she has Emery’s dimples and dark brown eyes. Her curly AF hair has been stylishly tamed into two braids and she wears a pair of her /best/ grey trousers and an oversized white shirt that must belong to Emery and a pair of glasses with no lenses as she is sitting on a briefcase on top of the sofa, swinging her Mary Jane clad feet.

Emery has gone out for milk, so that gave Kennis enough time to put on her ‘work clothing’. And wait.


Since the return from Alaska, Emma Frost has been something of a different creature. Or, perhaps, the more accurate way of thinking on it would be to say that she is a far more familiar creature as old habits rear their ugly little heads and nestle back into their dark, cozy, neglected dens from tunnels eaten through the dark recesses of her heart and thoughts.

Emery has been given instructions to—under no circumstances—allow Tony Stark on the premises. The super butler was even given one of the crown jewels of her trust: he has the security codes to power on and off the laser-equipped security system from which she has absolutely removed Stark’s exception profile, along with a number of others.

No surprise terrace visits or uninvited guests, thank you.

That would be why, perhaps, when Emma Frost emerges from her study where she’s been holed up all night handling some perfectly legitimate professional items that have been hanging over her head in advance of her formal Metropolis debut, she’s not surprised to see the little girl on the couch. She heard them—felt them—come in but didn’t deign to greet them.

She did, at the very least, dress for an evening in.

Which means that she’s still wrapped in a robe of burned velvet with a fur trim, over a silky set of pajamas. And she’s smoking. Because she’s a wonderful influence. To her credit, she doesn’t venture past the doorway. Instead, she leans against the threshold, her cigarette smouldering at the end of a long holder.

“Oh, dear,” she offers, tone tinged with amusement. “Seems someone’s gotten their final destination a little mixed up. Aren’t you supposed to be in school, missy?”


The child regards Emma with those eyes that are wise beyond her years, an old soul of sorts. She gets ‘em from her papa. She adjusts her glasses and kicks out her feet with a shrug of her shoulders. “I’m feelin’ a wee bit fragile today.” She fakes a cough and smiles innocently.

Then she then hops down off of the couch and pads over to where Emma is, looking her over and nodding. “Da’ will be back soon and we ‘ave to get him presents ready.” Kennis does eye the cigarette for a moment and waves a hand in front of her nose. “You’re going to end up smelly like Da when his favorite footie team loses.” She cautions.


“His presents?”

Emma asks the question and then—despite the child’s warning—takes another long drag from her cigarette. She taps the end against a spinning ash trap in the palm of her other hand, pushing a button to whirl the white and gray of it under the tin lid that snaps back up to seal it in.

“I’m sorry that you’re poorly,” she says after a careful exhale, watching the small creature in her domain with a cautious eye. People don’t usually trust her with small creatures. Particularly creatures this small.

It has a novelty to it that she would need confess that she enjoys.

“And I apologize for the odor. I didn’t expect company today from anyone who minded.”

Another drag of the cigarette ensues, but Emma keeps her respectful distance at least.


“Yes!” Kennis explains with the enthusiasm of a child who has important plans. “His presents. Da is already older than everyting but he still has birthday.” A pause. “Has a birthday.” Her tiny accent with flickers of British and Irish in there coloring her language.

“And you has taste and stuff.” She nods slowly. “So, we needs shopping list.” She goes back to where her ‘briefcase’ is, opening it up and removing a crayon and a sparkly yellow notepad. Also in the briefcase is a billy stick length sparkly yellow ‘wand’ of some kind.


The blonde watches the little thing on her couch as she goes about her very important business, with the first honest-to-God genuine smile on curling her lips in what feels like forever. She leans languidly against the threshold of her study, crossing one arm over her belly.

“Well,” she replies after another dramatic, draconic exhale, “I must say, it’s hard to refuse you when I see that my reputation has preceded me. But, don’t you think your father will be a little upset when he comes home and finds that his daughter—supposedly off-colour enough to be off from school—is out shopping?”


“That is why you are taking me. You are a grownups and you is Da’s boss queen so it makes a shield from fault.” The tiny solicitor in training declares as she moves forward a few steps to flop with all the decorum of a small child to lay on her stomach and start writing on her notepad.

“Da needs…hmm, chocolate and um. Do you think he would want a tie?”


“Oh, you darling girl.” At long last, Emma crushes her cigarette’s cherry out in the pocket ash tray she’s carrying and sets it down on a table just out of sight in her study.

She moves into the room where the little creature sits, so primly perched upon her couch, and gently closes the door behind her.

Crossing the carpet in her bedroom heels, there are certainly those who would find the matter altogether disturbing as Emma bends her knees down to consider the girl in all of the ways at her disposal. A little bit of visual inspection. A little bit of psychic nosing around to see just how angry the child believes Emery Papsworth would be to find his precious little one in her care.

To find out just how special she is, if there’s anything to be known about her at all. Just because ‘Da’ believes her to be unrealized potential doesn’t mean that the spark doesn’t lie down there in the tiny form somewhere, glowing and bright in its hidden place. It’s a spark that any teacher longs to see.

“I’d imagine that you are rarely denied anything. And your Daddy has been a very good boy and is worthy of much spoiling. Two strokes that are very much in your favor. We could do better than a tie, I’m certain, if you and I were to put our two formidable intellects together.”


There isn’t a fear of Emery being angry, just worried…flashes of his warnings about her not going anywhere without a grown up. Kennis herself is an anomaly, where Emery’s mind has that shroud of darkness and that constant blanket of empathic awareness…his ‘normal’ child has a light, and the faintest strains of empathic potential.

Kennis has her father’s eyes and determined set of her jaw and that twinkle of always being up to something and she taps her crayon against her paper thoughtfully as she beams at Emma, her dimples showing and betraying her to yes really be Emery’s spawn. “A chocolate tie.” She proposes with a giggle and shake of her head. She sighs softly. “Da…doesn’t want me to know that he’s scared.” She offers softly. “But..but he’s a knight so is normal I guess. That’s why I had to grow up to be a Queen and a Solicitor so I can keep him safe from all the bad fairies.” She waves a hand vaguely. “Do they have chocolate /shoes/?”

—-

Well. If ever there was a way to find a way into Emma Frost’s heart, little Kinnis easily finds it.

“My dear, with the right chocolatier, anything is possible.”

Pushing herself up into a stand, the blonde crosses her arms and then she smiles impishly.

“But, as they say, talk is cheap! And I am known for my expensive taste. So, give me just a little bit to freshen up, and we can skitter out the door before your father comes back and puts an end to our fun.”


Kennis offers another dimpled smile before nodding firmly. "Alright, your highness. I will wait."

And by the time Emma returns, Kennis's oversized shirt is replaced by a little white blouse with puffy sleeves, and she wears a little grey beret and is wearing her grey coat.

In her grip the folded 'shopping' list and she has retrieved a black teddy bear which she holds under an arm.

They have a mission. She is ready.


“Majesty, dear,” the telepath sing-songs, her hand flitting dismissively through the air as she moves to disappear through the French doors leading into her bedroom. “Nothing less than ‘your majesty.’”

Even for a child, Emma Frost is not quite ready to set down her crown.

She doesn’t rush through her routines, but she smells less of cigarette smoke and more of expensive parfum when she returns. Dior, naturally. Her creamy knee-high leather boots and turtle-necked sweater mini-dress smack of autumn, and disappear under a wool coat with a generous fur shawl collar as she bundles up.

And once she’s done with all of it, she pulls out her tan Louis Vuitton purse and then opens the front door in invitation. “Come along, then,” she says with all of the unyielding tone of a schoolmarm. “I’ve called the car.”


Kennis giggles to herself as she makes the mental connection. She also leaves a note in the kitchen that simply reads

‘Out doing lady stuff. Finished my Latin homework.’

And then she’s bustling forward, eyeing Emma’s purse with a thoughtful expression and she hmmm softly. “Is that from the new season?” She peers curiously. “I saw one on the Telly.”


“It is!” Emma exclaims, closing the door behind her and locking up as they slip into the hall. “What a very good eye you have.”

Quietly, and likely without the girl’s notice, the blonde is already doing her due diligence and surveying the child’s thoughts for mischief and planned insurrections. But while she does that, she leans over to regard the list as she sashays onward to the elevator and keys the signal down.

“So what do you have there?”

It’s a smooth descent, the private elevator back down to the lobby, and then a short walk to the car across the decadent tile. Emma disregards the long looks that come from the front desk and the doorman as she takes the child and slides outside to the car. Disregards the way they gawk at the change in her mannerisms as she protectively hovers near Kennis’s elbow on the trek across the sidewalk to the curb and to the car and ushers the child inside.


Kennis moves along, reaching into her coat pocket for a pair of light grey rimmed sunglasses and she puts them on as she follows after Emma. Unlike most children her age, she does have a way of looking around herself with a hint of trepidation, not fear of her father but just of the unknown that she has been taught to be careful of.
The list has things like ‘Shoes, Tie, Swords, Chocolate, Card, Ribbons’ on it and she shows it with a small nod.


Fear of the unknown is par for the course, really, when dealing with children. And it would be simple enough for Emma to override that natural inclination and force the girl into a state of calm. But there’s the part of Emma that is—perhaps—unpredictably patient, knowing how the trepidation of the girl’s personal mastery of it is ever so key for her development.

She only just continues to exude a seemingly effortless confidence while doing what could be—in the wrong hands—be absolutely framed as kidnapping.

Her driver raises an eyebrow but—wisely—says nothing as he shuts the door behind the pair and Emma settles herself inside. Her blonde hair is pulled all over one shoulder to rest as she lies her head back and closes her eyes behind her own enormous and dark sunglasses.

“So,” she says, recalling the contents of the list, “Where shall we start? Neiman Marcus, maybe?”


Kennis climbs into the car with no hesitation or pause, settling down and folding her hands in her lap,with the teddy bear place beside her and her notebook tucked under her hands. The little girl pauses to wave at the driver though and flash a smile before looking to Emma. “When /I/ get be, to be the Queen of the Fairies…all my drivers are gonna get unicorns to tell them where to go.”

But back to the business at hand, she gives a little bounce. “Yes! Neiman and then maybe Saxophone 4th Adventnue.” A pause. “If that’s okay, your majesty.”


The door is shut behind them, and the young driver rounds the hood of the car as the two females speak on the matter at hand. This is an important matter, deciding the agenda for the morning. He slides back into the car, just as Kennis agrees to a plan.

“Perfectly,” Emma offers back easily. “Alex? You heard our guest. The Neiman Marcus, please.”

“Yes, Miss Frost.”

The car gently rolls into drive, and there’s a quiet, tired sort of sigh that escapes the mind witch’s lungs. Behind her glasses, the telepath then cracks one eye open in a draconic slit and lets her attention turn back towards the admittedly very adorable Kennis. And then she asks, quietly, “I’m assuming—with your father being your father—that you’ve eaten breakfast.”


“Mmhm.” Kennis replies after the car starts moving, kicking his feet a bit and taking a deep breath. “Cookie Porridge, annnd breakfast tea, annnnd yellow juice.” Her nose wrinkles. “But no muffins because I think he knows I am not really feeling icky.”

She gives a little sigh. “He always knows when you’re being tricky.” She giggles and rolls her eyes.


“That he does.” The reply is quick, not missing a beat. It’s not just an effortless support of the age-old parental magic—They know. They will always, somehow, know.—but rather the very real knowledge of the man’s other tricks.

Good luck to you, Kennis, when you reach your teens.

“I know you would never be tricksy to your dear old Papa. You see, I already give him palpitations enough. But don’t you worry, dear. We’ll be back before he can even miss you. You’ll see!”

And with that, they are off for a morning full of adventure and spending.

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