6285/Black King, White Queen

Black King, White Queen
Date of Scene:	20 May 2021
Location:	Downtown Manhattan
Synopsis:	Emma finds a new game piece on the board, starts to keep tabs. Blackagar is amused by the silly lady.
Cast of Characters:	Emma Frost, Blackagar Boltagon

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Emma Frost has posed:
An odd display happens, like it happens at fairly frequent, but uneven intervals. A freak arrangement of traffic leaves an entire lane cleared in grid-locked Manhattan morning traffic, cleared that is but for a single ghost white Bentley that sails through it at speed. The filled parking spots before Frost Industries' tower suddenly lose one car as an executive from one of the other businesses Frost shares the buildings with comes rushing out to drive away ... and stop a few metres later, looking confused. Behind him the Bentley slips into the newly-freed parking spot.

Out steps Emma Frost, securing the car and her ultra-modern design briefcase, resplendent in her porn studio take on a business suit, accepting a large cup of coffee from the barista that rushed out of the high end coffee shop on the ground floor of her building. Smiling tersely, she pauses to take a look around the plaza, briefly scanning all minds present for fun and profit, before pushing her glasses up to conceal her azure eyes behind azure lenses.

She proceeded, then, with an arrogant, swaying stride to the doors of her building.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
There were buildings this large where he was from. That was certainly true, Attilan was not some peasant village. But the construction of New York City had fascinated Blackagar since his arrival. He had spent more time in that city than any others to this point and was currently walking the streets with an observant eye taking in both the sights and sounds that surround him. The series of events that unfold pulls his attention. There is a natural ebb and flow to a place such as this and a disruption to it can sometimes pull the focus of someone astute. The way the busy traffic opens like the Red Sea, the moving of a vehicle, the rushing of a barista who nearly runs into Blackagar. All of it has him turning and looking around him.

~Maximus!~ the initial thought is sent out with an abrupt nature, one concerned and angered as the man looks around him. Immediately his mental shields go up. They are strong, not impenetrable, but certainly noticeable was someone looking for minds. A static-filled hum of mental defenses leaping up as Blackagar begins looking around him, trying to spot someone or something.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma's strides stop mid-step, spine stiffened. What on Earth was that?

Blue shades slip down again, revealing the blue eyes beneath as she sweeps the crowd. What is that noise? That ... empty space filled with white noise. Not there, no. That's just a thoughtless middle manager. And that one is the pervert who stations himself as a busker to eye the powerful women walking in and out of buildings all around, fantasizing of them stepp...

Let's ignore that one. For now. He might be a fun toy later.

No, there's somethin... THERE!

Emma's eyes fall on Blackagar and she smiles in triumph. It is not a nice smile, even though it reaches her eyes, an amazing trick.

Her new course charted, she sashays her way directly toward Blackagar, pedestrians in the crowded plaza making room for her like a standing wave in the ocean of people.

"I need to talk to you," she says as she gets within earshot. That same smile in her eyes as she approaches like a shark approaching prey.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar looks around him for a few more moments. He had seen things like this before, the movement of people and things out of the ordinary randomness, as if they were controlled. It occurs to him that his initial instinct of it being his brother may be out of place and a bit of a relaxed expression returns.

That is until he's approached by the blond woman. Turning his own blue eyes towards Emma, a slow dark eyebrow lifts upwards in surprise. ~They do not know who they speak to~ he reminds himself before placing on his own smile, one that does reach his eyes. He is an emissary after all.

A small nod comes from the man and he reaches to his side, pulling up a slate board. No fancy device just a very old school writing table and a piece of chalk upon which the man begins to scrawl in neat handwriting.

'Is there something I can assist you with?'

Emma Frost has posed:
~You're right. I don't know who I speak to. It's rather the point.~

Where is that voice coming from? It's not from the woman in front of him since SHE is talking. "Those eyes of yours. They're perfect. Have you considered modeling as a possibility? My company has some lines of rugged phones and your overall look is perfect for it. Would you care to accompany me? I'll introduce you to the campaign manager and she can sign you up as a model if she thinks you're good for the job."

Now the face is pleasant and the smile as friendly as it is false. Emma juts out her brocade-clad hand. "I'm Emma," she says.

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
His piercing eyes remain focused on Emma, the blue in them sparkling as bare smirk curls his lips. His own hand reaches out to accept hers in a shake, a gesture that from him seems a bit uncomfortable. It is clear it is not something he is overly familiar with. After shaking, he once more pulls out his slate. 'Your offer is generous, however, I must decline. I do not believe I would have interest in what you call a model.'

The exterior of Blackagar remains calm during the interaction, his mind itself surprisingly so as well. It is not his first telepathic encounter -- hell, it's how he usually deals with things. The mental defenses remain up, cautious but not rejecting.

~Any who hide behind a wall such as this do so for reason. If you wish to speak with me then approach.~

Emma Frost has posed:
~Consider this the approach. The blonde woman you're talking to is under my absolute control. Her conversation is cover for this, the real conversation. Please do join her so we can converse face to face.~

Not a lie. Yet untrue at the same time. Someone has been taking lessons from Loki.

The blonde--Emma, as she introduced herself--makes a pouty face and mimes wiping tears from her eyes, then perks up with a grin. "OK, how about this as a deal: there's a really good coffee shop here." She gestures vaguely at the building she was about to enter. "I'll buy coffee and a pastry and we talk. If at the end of the conversation I haven't convinced you to try modeling, you've lost a bit of time and gained a bit of caffeine and carbs. If I have, you've gained those AND you've gained gainful employment as the new look for our phones."

She tilts her head and regards Blackagar. "Deal?"

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar keeps his eyes on the blond woman in front of him. His mind races quickly, the gears churning before he slowly nods towards her in acquiesence.

~Any who seizes the mind of another such at this places themselves in opposition to my beliefs.~ There is a distinct sternness and a flood of emotions of distaste about the concept. Having seen this occur before it certainly leaves a bileish taste in Blackagar's mouth.

He makes a small gesture for the blond woman to lead the way, not bothering to write on his slate since it would seem that this is merely the puppet.

Emma Frost has posed:
The coffee shop is navigated expertly, and it seems that wealth has its privileges. Emma moves to the front of the line without any objections from anybody, places her order, allows Blackagar to place his, pays, then puts double that into the tip jar before guiding him to the booth farthest removed from anybody. Waiting to let him take a seat before taking her own, not across from him, but diagonally positioned, she chuckles affably.

"Who said anything about another?" she asks coyly. "I am generally in perfect control of my body. I could demonstrate it in a dance, if you like, or in ... other activities best left private. But the blonde is, in fact, under my complete control."

She sips her coffee. Black and strong and unsugared.

"She just happens to be me. Now you intrigue me, see, and I didn't really want to call attention to you in a showy display, so I thought I could take you somewhere private and let the barriers drop."

She gestures at the slate. "I'm assuming you're mute?" she asks. "Have you considered a tablet or a phone or such?"

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar settles in with his coffee, what he had written out for his order had been based upon simply asking the barista for her preference and he went with that. Now as he settles in he pauses, the sheen of impassiveness faltering for a moment with a look of mild surprise and a bit of irk. Considering for a moment, he turns the slate around and sets it to the side.

A small lift of his coffee and he then looks directly at Emma, putting in effort to actively think out his thoughts to her to reduce the potential for necessity of invasion.

~A clever, if unnecessary ruse. No one in this city would look at two people standing not speaking I suspect.~ His eyes glance towards the slate and he gives a small nod. ~I do not speak, no. As for the tablets, I have seen them. I do not prefer them. My system has served me well for my time.~

Picking up his coffee, he takes another sip but think at Emma through it. ~What is it you find so intriguing then?~

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma's persona chatters non-stop about cheekbones, eye shades, that wonderful rugged look Blackagar has, and generally acts the part of someone trying to convince another to model. In between she sips her coffee or takes tiny little nibbles of her raspberry cheesecake.

The real action is in her head.

~When a telepath strong enough to hold me off without my expending a great deal of effort pops up in my back yard, I get intrigued.~ Her mental voice is strong, clear, and comes like a laser beam from a mental fortress as featureless as it is strong. ~Introduction is mandated, however, when it is one I don't know personally, haven't heard of, and indeed haven't even heard rumours of.~ Her head tilts in curiosity. ~Mutant? Mutate? Government project? Meta? Alien? I generally like to keep my house tidily arranged and your presence is a bit disconcerting until I know about you.~

Her hand reaches across, the vocal pretext being showing off her brocade glove. ~I'm a mutant, for purposes of full disclosure.~

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar has a bit more struggle keeping the two things separate, the outward persona and the one within his mind. The two conversations taking place eventually drifting into just one that he is following; the one in his head.

~I am not a telepath~ he thinks after a moment. ~I have learned to make myself heard better to those that are.~ The man lifts his shoulder and looks up at the pastry that he has, a chocoalte croissant. He takes a moment to inspect it before taking a bite, seeming to approve.

~What I am is of no true concern. I am not from this place however. I am visiting, learning of the people of this world.~ The hand offered out to him has him reaching out to take it, going through the process of delecately examining before returning to his coffee and pastry.

~My shields~ he taps the side of his head gently ~are for protection. When I saw something that struck me as dangerous they immediately go into place. Habit. If I caused you discomfort or uncertainty with them and my presence, I apologize.~

Emma Frost has posed:
~Oh, I wouldn't call it discomfort. Uncertainty, certainly, but only because it appears my information gathering needs upgrading. I'm not a fan of surprises in areas I think I'm in control of. So thank you, actually, for revealing the hole that needs plugging.~

In the vocal world Emma is sipping and nibbling again, being mercifully quiet.

~I am nothing, however, if not gracious as a hostess. If you are a visitor to our world, I feel bound to extend both my welcome and my protection to you. If you need any assistance, feel free to contact me.~

Her hand produces an elegant business card upon which she writes some private contact information.

~I look forward to being of assistance in any way I can.~

"So, have I convinced you? Will you be the face of the new line of ruggedized FrostPhones?"

Blackagar Boltagon has posed:
Blackagar looks at the card as it is offered to him, an eyebrow lifting up a bit in surprise and he battles to keep humor from hitting his expression. Taking the offered item, he puts it into his pocket and looks back across the table at Emma.

~Your offer is most gracious, however I do not expect I will be needing any protection.~ He can hide it from his face, but not his emotions. That thought certainly makes him humored. ~This conversation has been of much assistance to me and my exploration of the world. As for assistance, I would be most thankful were you to direct me perhaps to others that represent this world, both for good and ill.~

Looking at her, he reaches to his slate and pulls it up, writing on it in that neat handwriting. 'I do not think I am the right person you are looking for.'