4621/Jetsetting and the Values of the Upper Class

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Jetsetting and the Values of the Upper Class
Date of Scene: 05 January 2021
Location: Emma Frost's Private Jet
Synopsis: Ororo is one hell of a thrillseeker and nearly kills Emma.
Cast of Characters: Ororo Munroe, Emma Frost

Ororo Munroe has posed:
The pressure of liftoff eases up, a simple thing that always seems to get a smile from Ororo. Nature's wonders include gravity, and she's always said that your moments when you can appreciate the power of the things you rarely notice...they are worthy.

Still, it passess like all things do. She leans over to the intercom, depressing the button, and simply says, "Lovely takeoff, thank you all. Please head north." Then she takes off the communication, turning her chair to swivel towards Emma's.

"Warm weather gear, darling. I expect to see you looking entirely the marshmallow before we arrive." She is having fun, this trip a surprise to Emma, which is a rare treat!

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma sits facing the back of the plane, or as some of her peers would call it, 'the wife's, or the girlfriend's chair'. As such, Emma exclusively sits there, even on her own jet in a way of sticking the power of her proverbial middle finger towards those that think less of her because of her gender. She turns her attention to Ororo as the woman speaks and smirks her painted red lips towards the wind goddess and without a thought to her own safety, Emma is standing up in the cabin and taking a step towards the passenger, Emma places a hand upon Ororo's shoulder, "If you're making me bundle up like an Inuit, I'm picking our destination next time, and you need to prepare for tropical beaches and endless open bars." Emma says, pulling her hand past as she moves into the rear of the jet and into her own private wardrobe and bedroom. For the long flights.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo speaks little, as Emma shares her thoughts on her trip. "You," she intones, as Emma sashays toward the changing room, "may do so if you wish." She leans back in the comfy, extremely expensive chair, and gently crosses her legs.

She casts out her thoughts to the sky, watching the clouds kiss them as they meet their wintry folds, and is quiet a moment while they caress the wings. Parting them, the sky opens up and the sun blesses them. It is a magical moment, though somehow dimmed when only watched through the windows.

Knowing that Emma awaits further conversation Ororo drags her thoughts back to the jet, and the woman within. "There are many things worth one's time in the cold. How much fuel does this jet hold?" an odd question to ask, certainly. Perhaps she has some reason.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma is changing changing. She's not shy about standing in her own ariel enabled bedroom and redoing her entire outfit in order to suit Ororo's warning. The white queen is finding her current style leaning into that name rather comfortably and casually, lace, and frill to start, followed up with more and more layers.

    "I'm no stranger to the cold, or the pleasures within and around the frigid." Emma says, her voice carrying past her open doorway into the small hall and back out to the seating area of the jet. "Hey how-" Emma is cut off by the pilot reporting on Ororo's question, "This Jet is capable of flying across any international waters without need for refuling. 18 hours is our maximum achieved coverage." Then the intercom clicks off and Emma is left looking up at it with a hint of a scowl.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Clapping her hands together, Ororo says, "Delightful!" as she remains sitting, then places her feet on the ground. Or, the deck more accurately. She rises, stepping to join Emma in the changing area. There is no chance of her being unexpected, and she expects Emma to be quite calm. Therefore she will be, of course.

"May I borrow a scarf?" she asks, in the doorway, her smile tinged with gentleness. "Also i will need to adjust you a touch, if you wear that jacket the parachute will likely snag." Oh, she is enjoying this, drawing out the anticipation. The minx.

"Would you like to know? Or have you discerned our destination as yet?"

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma's face snaps up and squints at Ororo, before reaching out for a long white scarf from her closet. "No." Is all Emma says, those icy eyes locked onto Ororo's face before shifting from a stern flat face, to one with more concern knitting her brows together. "Noo..." Emma almost whimpers before she takes a breath... "This better be f****** important." Frost says as she snaps the scarf through the air towards Ororo, knowing the woman has the reflexes and skill to catch something so simple.

    Turning around and holding her arms out to allow Ororo to adjust her for the parachute pack, Emma is still complainging. "I should be suprised and be bitching a hell of a lot more, but I know you're going to repay me sevenfold for all this drama and trauma." Emma retorts with a look over her shoulder, trying to catch Ororo's eyes and lock with them in a moment of passing acceptance and respect. She hopes.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
And more. The eyes, as Ororo allows the scarf to strike her in the face, are smiling. Warm, and only a little deceptive. She whisps the wind to wrap the scarf about her, not raising her hands; as said, it is a simple thing, and one she deserved. The scarf in the face is accepted. She is being a bit of a witch, after all.

"It is not important," she says, her head tilting to the right a notch. "Yet, it is the most important thing in my life. You may yell, scream, and bless me with your temper all you wish. But I," she says, as she lifts a gilded parachute, to help Emma don it, "will still be exiting the plane soon. You may choose not to do so. It is your right."

That...that was a challenge. Stated with hands, helping Emma to dress, it was still ...pressure. She is giving Emma the choice to come, or not. To leap without knowing what awaits below. Not knowing. But whatever it is, Ororo goes towards it gladly.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma tightens the straps of her chute once it's on, just to be absolutely certain, before she turns around and faces Ororo with that coy smile crossing her lips once again as she knows Ororo wont be needing a chute, and was about to ask a dumb question, but the telepath doesn't need to read minds to know how foolish that would have been. "If you start singing Disney songs Ororo, I can't promise your safety once we're on the ground."

    That confirms it, 'we' and 'ground' Emma's not going to allow Ororo to do this herself. A deep breath as Emma moves over towards the safety hatch and gives the pilots and crew a mental heads up, prepping the crew for what they're going to have to do once they're clear of the jet. "I hope we're going to that ice hotel..." Is all Emma says before she puts a hand on Ororo's back, between her shoulders. A sign that the blonde is as ready as she can be to go into the unknown with the goddess.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"A moment longer," Ororo says, her eyes turning white. She listens to the outside, then smiles. Snapping back to reality, she leans to the left, grabs...skiis, then slaps them down on the floor. "You'll want those," she suggests, then hits the hatch decompression latch.

She laughs, leaping out the door as it opens, and without any more than a scarf to protect her, she can be heard whistling something about cold. Cold, and a kingdom of isolation.

It feels lonely, before the wind whips it from her lips. And she's gone, the plane leaving her behind. As the skies upen up, showing below, far below...

Well, you'll see in a moment.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma barely has time to get the skiis on before the hatch is opened and the the two are being pulled from the plane by the decompression. Emma was lucky enough to not get her feet caught in the door and she's falling through the air rapidly. Her fur lined gear is looking alive again as it whips in the air rushing past as she falls and the White Queen doesn't bother looking for Ororo, but instead mentally connects with the African goddess.

    There's no words, or mental messages sent to Ororo, but instead the fear flowing from Emma's mind and heart as she plummets to the earth, that mountain getting closer and closer. Emma can only take so much before she reaches to her shoulder and finds the rip chord and rips it with all she can, wanting to stop her rapid decent already with terror streaking tears from her eyes and the wind ripping them and freezing them at the same time. It's wildly unpleasant.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
The mountain below came up fast, Ororo having timed the drop so they'd head for the top. Far, far below, past miles of untouched snow, there appears to be hints of civilization, of the things which Emma loves. Cider, warm fires, hot servers with bulging muscles.

Yet here, as the chute opens and slows Emma, she catches from her link with Ororo...the unexpected.

A returning terror. Exhiliration, certainly, but fear? From Ororo? It's undeinable, Emma is not the only one who is frightened by this.

The power of it, of both their frights, is a cascade. Ororo is not cheating, she allows the wind and gravity to pull her down, to each side, and lets Nature have its way. All things hold power, and the essence comes across in a gestalt.

I am not God, her heart sings. She is frightened, but this is to her something intense. Giving up power, letting nature choose her once again as its daughter.

And she falls, smiling upward.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma feels that fear, that rush, and exhilaration and something clicks. She gets it. Emma feels like she can truly understand Ororo a bit more than she ever has before. This isn't Ororo being confident and powerful, this is Ororo being vulnerable to the nth degree. She's so calm and collected at all times, reminding Emma of herself, but this is similar to when Emma allows herself to be thought of by men, and colleagues as weak and lesser. For the thrills. The reasons why are different, but the results are the same.

    With her skii bearing feet dangling below her as she still approaches the summit of the mountain, Emma finally sees Ororo's shape below and can't help but instinctually call out, "ORORO!" Her mouth and mind shouting for Ororo in longing and fear that she might see the woman meet her end, when she knows Ororo can save and guide herself to the ground safely. Emma feels something and in that mental link, she might share something more than she considered.

Ororo Munroe has posed:

Nature is a vicious bitch, and gravity has no gentle forgiving side. Ororo knows this, she knew it before she started upon this trip. And she had a fairly good idea what the outcome of this would be: her, hitting the ground with a thud. Giving Momma Nature her due, for all the transgressions she chooses in her life.

Far below, there is a sound that echoes the stark expanse. Emma spirals downward, and the light of the sun reflects off of the snow. Where is Ororo? What happened? It looked like she struck bottom, though it was technically the top of the mountain. The place of beginnings.

Then as Emma approaches, the chute keeping her slowed, she sees. The mountain is moving. She's falling just short of an avalanche, and in her mind, she hears the voice she most needs to hear, just now.

Let go, Emma. Fall, now!

Emma Frost has posed:
    "Oh for f**** sake." Emma rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the voice she can so easily hear, tears are down her cheeks and rolling back to her covered ears as she does what the voice commands and undoes her chute and falls.

    The blonde screams horrible horrible murder, but there's a calmness in the back of her mind, the idea that her diamond form could more than likely take the landing from this height, but ... she'd not be able to hear that voice, so Emma falls with a plan already building that at the last minute she'll convert to her diamond form before impact.

    Though her mind still thinks about how she might have just seen Ororo's life end abruptly, and her heart, breaks for it and because of it.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Trust. That is what this trip is about, and Emma is caught by the winds. An updraft, more warm than the world deserves this far into the sky, and she is slowed enough to let her skiis be a cradle. The wind whips past, but not downward, and the world is moving.

No, the ground is there, but behind it is an avalanche, and yet there is no danger. She is on her skiis, on the snow, with the sound of the world ending behind. It will not catch her, she is moving with enough speed to outrace life itself. The slope is not gentle, but neither is life.

And she is not alone. Beside her Ororo races, her eyes bright, her skiis nonexistent. She is happy, she is so cheating, and she waves as she points downward. Come! The world awaits us!

And she jumps over a hill, into the sky a moment. Skiis of ice form, and she joins you on earth.

Downward, toward life.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma's breath is taken but also forced out of her by the catch of the wind. She's ... a leaf on the wind of Ororo's life in this moment and she knows it. She hadn't ever doubted Ororo before, but she never understood the true grandeur of the woman's abilities and mind. A sharp gasp as she hits the snow and looks over her shoulder briefly before leaning forward as far as she can to pick up speed on the slope.

    "ORORO!" Emma shouts, fear, rage, adrenaline, ... ecstasy and elation. Emma is nearly fully primal as she rides the path ahead of the avalanche behind, her friend, her --- Ororo to her side and free in the moment. "Okay. You're on." Emma snarls with a mischevious grin and she pushes herself further to move faster down the mountain, even allowing herself to change, the little exposed skin and the hair below her cap shiting to that impossible crystal and shining brightly as she glides down the mountain faster, her new weight allowing greater speed and the strength to control it.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"That's my girl," Ororo whispers into the wind. If Emma hears it, she hears it. It was never meant to be private. She falls behind, the avalanche pulling closer. Her own impact was hard enough to cause it, but she didn't want to put Emma too close to the line. It seems she's able to walk the line all on her own, and that makes Ororo proud.

Of course there was always a way out. A gust of wind could have pulled Emma to safety, Nature was not there to threaten HER. There is a welcome in it though, now that Emma has accepted the ride. Wind whipping crystal tears from the white queen's face. Ororo reaches to catch one out of the sky, and slips it into her boot.

Can probably get a lot for that on Amazon. Yes, I'm kidding. Shush.

Ahead, trees loom, too old and fixed to move out of the way. They've seen avalanches before, these old ones. That control will be tested.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma lowers her shoulders, bends her knees and closes her eyes in the moments before reaching the trees to center her now empty mind. She can barely hear Ororo, and the thunder of the avalanche behind even begins to fade as Emma might have found her meditation center, but she snaps her eyes open as she hits the tree line and using those powerful hands hidden in gloves, the white queen zigs and zaps through the forrestry.

    She drops a hand into the snow to curl left, and lists to her right, minding to watch out for only the trunks, as the smaller branches break upon her impossible skin, cutting her clothes yes, but she has an avalanche to outrun and a witch to woo, plus she can afford a new wardrobe when they make it to the village below. If they have commerce that is.

    There's no smile on Emma's translucent face, but there is purpose and a fire in her uniform eyes, focused only on the trees before her. Quiet. Purpose.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Purpose...and laughter. The laughter which caresses the mountain, which echoes through the trees and the houses below. Which is with them when they reach the bottom, and arm in arm enter the ski lodge, snow falling off of their heads, out of their hair.

The servers know better; long hands at this, they have cider, hot and ready, and warm places by the fire. And boys, oh the boys that gather Emma Grace Frost and Ororo Munroe in to the warm places, the places where snow can not touch.

But their seats that they are bundled into are close together. And Ororo, never a telepath, seems to need little speech. Not after that. She looks at Emma, her face beaming and ruddy with the cold.

And holds out a hand, as much fuss is made for them both.

Emma Frost has posed:
    Emma is in her heaven, or so she thinks she is. Leaned way back into a lounge, with a show and attendants taking care of her every need, and wonderful compnay as well. One that isn't a telepath, but seems to be on a sort of wave length she hasn't felt before in several years of dealing with people in her same socioeconomic status. Emma's hand is holding onto a flute of champagne she requested nearly as soon as they entered for her and Ororo to share in their relaxation after outrunning death at least three times in the last few minutes alone.

    As Emma's eyes look down at the hand extended towards her and ... she swallos at the champagne in her mouth and then swallows at the nothing. She's... surprised at herself but she looks to Ororo's arm and then her face before setting the flute down and calmly reaching out to take Ororo's fingers into her own, lacing them together.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
There is a moment of attachment, and not just between their fingers. It isn't overtly sexual, it just is. And while it ends, as all things must, there is a time when even Gods have to humble themselves, in order to reach their greatest heights.

The servants, knowing something that perhaps is instinctive, back off and leave them to their time. It all coalesced down to a simple fact. They are comfortable, and together. It doesn't need to be more than that.

and outside, the winds rattle the windows, and Nature watches. Well, she can wait.