A Different Kind of Sisterhood
Roleplaying Log: A Different Kind of Sisterhood
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

It takes the death of Winston Frost to get all of his daughters in the same room for the first time in a decade.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: February 25, 2020
IC Location: Boston, MA
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 13 Mar 2020 02:53
Rating & Warnings: G
Scene Soundtrack: All Your Sisters by Mazzy Star
NPC & GM Credits: NPCs by Emma Frost
Associated Plots

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

It was the first time they’d all sat in a room together for the better part of a decade, save the wake.

Despite Winston Frost’s presence that hung over the room, his spirit very much alive although his body had finally committed its final act of betrayal, and his son’s painfully apparent absence, the four women of the Frost family actually stayed together in this room for the entirety of the reading of the will and no one murdered anyone else.

Of course, Hazel was on her nerve pills. Cordelia sat beside her, looking like this was all a terrible imposition. The youngest of the Frost sisters had been living in the ancestral home once more after her latest flop at adulting, and she grunted in frustration as the rules of her new trust were laid out for her. Winston didn’t trust her. He put practical things in place to leash her immaturity, and she’d have enough to live for years. Christian would be sustained by his own trust. Hazel would take over the real estate and the stock portfolio. It would sustain her until her own inevitable death with only the slightest oversight, thanks to an army of managers.

Adrienne… got shares of her own company, and not even all of them. Hazel still had some in her mix of futures.

Which left, then, the matter of Frost Enterprises.

“I don’t want it,” Emma says after a long moment, voice filled with derision, as she stares down the lawyer on the other side of the table who has the unfortunate misery of being the executor.

Her eyes slide to her sister on the other side of the U-shaped quartet of chairs.

Hazel pipes up. “Emma, stop being petulant.”

The sable-gowned blonde turns her baleful gaze towards her mother. “I’m not seventeen anymore. And I don’t want it.” Her eyes turn once more to Adrienne. “Give to Adrienne. I don’t care.”


Adrienne’s tight-lipped expression has grown more and more severe as each additional slight is heaped atop the last. Shares in her own company. And not even all of them. That she might have dismissed with an annoyed eye-roll if it weren’t for that final, damning nail in the coffin.

“Don’t give me your charity, Emma,” she spits back at her sister. “This is bull. This is clearly bull. The will is wrong.” She states this as though it is an unassailable fact. “You’re wrong,” she adds, eyes flashing dangerously as she looks at the lawyer, as though she’s picturing a hundred different ways to dismember him. “The company is mine. You,” back to Emma, “don’t get to give it to me, because it is mine.”

Surely, daddy could not have been that cruel. After everything she did for that old fool. And yet, in her heart of hearts, she can feel the truth settling over her, like icy water being poured through her very soul. “It’s my company,” she adds again, even more firmly than the last.


Winston Frost, in his too-many years on Earth, proved that he absolutely could be that cruel.

And his final spiteful act seems to have been to expertly weaponize his own last will and testament, certain that sister would be turned against sister.

“At least he didn’t lock up all your money to where you can’t get it,” grouses Cordelia sullenly.

“It’s for the best, dear,” Hazel tells her darkest-haired daughter with a too-smooth, too-peaceful tone and a squeeze of the hand. The Frost matriarch is oversedated, again, and her numbness is all too apparent to everyone.

Emma’s gaze turns to Adrienne, an eyebrow arching. “Of course, it is,” she offers, although her tone is not as conciliatory as it perhaps should be. The barbs in it aren’t particularly subtle. Or at all subtle, really. “Because, again, I just said that I don’t want it and that you should have it.”

She turns her attention then back to the attorney, her head tilting slightly as the manicured fingers of one hand drum in irritation on the back of the other hand upon which it rests. “Look, I’m just here to be certain that I don’t get hit with a tax burden for something I never wanted in the first place. Because, rest assured, I don’t want anything of his.”

Emma…” Hazel starts, tone exasperated, only to trail off heatlessly beneath the withering gaze her daughter levels upon her.


“Shut up, Cordelia,” Adrienne tosses off shortly to the youngest sister, no time nor patience for her particular brand of drama right now. “Of course he locked up your money; you’re a moron.” She doesn’t even bother to look at Cordelia as she says as much either, still focused on the more pressing matter. Mother is just ignored, for the moment.

Her eyes narrow at Emma. “It isn’t yours to give,” Adrienne replies, speaking slowly and overenunciating, like her sister is just being too stupid to grasp this concept. “You’ve never even worked for the company. I paid my dues.”

Turning back to the attorney, she gives him a deadly look. “The will is wrong. You’re wrong. Fix it, or I’ll have my people fix it.” There’s a definite threat inside that ‘offer’. “The company is mine. She-” Adrienne jerks a thumb towards Emma. “-gets nothing. She’s disowned. That’s literally what it means. What kind of law school did you go to?”


Adrienne.” It’s said with emphasis, but lack of real feeling. It’s Hazel, as toothless as ever. “She wasn’t disowned.

Emma ignores her mother entirely, and her smile is a decidedly unkind sort. Truly, there are sharks and wolves who manage to look more merciful. “Clearly not, as I seem to have been named. Still, you manage to find a way to even hate the things going your way, despite Father. Were I you, Adrienne, I would accept victory where you find it.” Her demulcent voice—changed by an accent that sounds now more Londonite than Bostonian, but perhaps not quite as much so right now than is her typical affect in the presence of the family from which she seeks to distance herself—wraps her threat. “It may not come this way again.”

Her attention shifts to the lawyer. “I’m assuming you went to a law school which instructed you on the proper forms required to relinquish my interests.” Rising to her feet, the blonde makes it abundantly clear that she’s done. She’s done with this. With them. With Adrienne, in particular. “You may forward them to my attorney to review. If everything’s in order, I will execute the forms and leave you to deal with the stonefish that is my sister.”

And then her cold, haughty gaze moves to her family. “Well, this has been positively lovely,” she quips. “I’m so glad that I took the hour flight and spent a couple of days reminiscing among the sights and sounds of all my childhood trauma.” Her head stoops, as she adds more, condescending, “Heavens, how I’ve missed you all so…”

Cordelia crosses her arms about herself and just glowers sullenly in Emma’s direction.

“…But too much of a good thing and all. I really should be on my way.”


“She was too!” Adrienne howls back at their mother, briefly sounding more like a child having a temper tantrum than the cool, intimidating businesswoman she wishes to be. If only her family wasn’t so infuriating! “Mother, stay out of it!”

She makes a face and just manages to stop herself from a disdainful mimic of her sister, although the sneer of her lips suggests the words were ready there. “This is no victory and you know it,” she says instead, eyes narrowing at her younger sister. The company belongs to me. Whatever is happening here-” she gestures with a dismissive hand towards the lawyer. “-is clearly some mistake. So please, Emma, do us all a favour: get on your high horse and ride out of here. Sign whatever you want to sign — that won’t change the fact that the company is, and was, rightfully mine.”

Daddy just made a mistake, that’s all. Like picking Emma the first time.

She heaves a sigh that turns more to a growl as she looks to the lawyer. “Well? What are you waiting for? I told you to fix it!” Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Cordelia moving to say something, and without looking back, she adds, “And shut up Cordelia, before I petition the courts to take your allowance away, you stupid child.”


As she’s told to shut up, again, Cordelia finally starts to get irritated. “I didn’t say anything! How can you tell me to shut up when I didn’t even //say anything?!”

Emma is already refastening the brooch on her fur stole. She is focused on that work as she tells Cordelia. “You must have thought it too hard.”

There’s a quip for Adrienne—about stonefish and aquariums and stones and glass houses—that brews. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before shaking her head. It’s not worth the effort of reading them. Not worth the effort to care. So she won’t.

“Right then.” She looks to the lawyer. She looks to him with pity. “Do enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

The middle Frost daughter is towards the door with her long stride and then through it without so much as a goodbye, closing it behind her to put a blissful damper between herself and her family.

It’s time to get the hell out of Boston.

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