Mirror Mirror
| Mirror Mirror | |
|---|---|
| Date of Cutscene: | 23 May 2021 |
| Location: | Emma's Room |
| Synopsis: | Emma starts her day |
| Cast of Characters: | Emma Frost |
The morning began as usual with the alarm at 5:15AM. Groaning Emma reached out with her mental feelers to check if she was alone the previous night or if she had had company.
Alone.
Again.
Wearily she stood, stretching and yawning, shambling her way to the bathroom to get that foul taste out of her mouth, studiously avoiding the mirror looming to one side.
Exiting, she dropped the diaphanous sleepwear from her shoulders, letting it fall where it may and slipped into the leotard carefully placed precisely where she was standing. This is a very strict routine after all. At 5:25AM the sound system turned on in her small personal gym where Emma found herself doing her morning maintenance. Todays exercises revolved around the lower half, largely, with squats, lunges, stepping, and other such exercises dominating her routine, the arms and shoulders getting lighter duty. At 5:45AM, covered in a light sheen of sweat and panting slightly, her routine ended and she went into the shower to clean off and freshen up. Hot water to cleanse. Ice water to wake up.
By 5:55AM The mirror had begun to actively lurk. There was nothing left but to face it.
Picking up the readied glass of claret on the counter, she sat down before an array of her enhancement product, taking a sip to stiffen her resolve before starting to apply the creams, foundations, blushes, liners, with brushes, tweezers, swabs, puffs, and other implements of construction.
~Look into my eyes.~
The voice from the mirror susserated in the back of her mind. She ignored it, concentrating on her daily perfection. Eyebrows plucked just so, that one annoying out-of-place hair that plagued her having reared its ugly head and needing yanking out by the roots again. The ice blue shadow came close to making her look, but she focused, concentrated, and avoided having to see her eyes directly. Shaping her already cruel cheeks into crueler angles by shadow and light. The kiss of death lipstick. She was re...
~Look into my eyes. Tell me what you see.~
The weakness was momentary, but present. She obeyed. She looked.
Her father looked back with harsh, disapproval, ready to express it in violence at the drop of a hat. She flinched and looked away, looking back to see her sisters mocking, full of hate, ready to rend her at the slightest hint of error. Gasping she reached for the glass and drained the rest of the claret, shaking hands pouring another glass.
~Look, Emma. Look into your crystal ball. Is what you see really you?~
Against her will her eyes were drawn to the mirror, looking into her own reflected eyes and seeing her mother, strung out on so much Xanax that she barely registered as a conscious being. Holding a glass of red wine mirroring Emma's own, drinking herself into oblivious together with Xanax. Suiciding the slow way.
Again, reflexively, Emma started to drink before a wave of revulsion swept through her and she threw the glass against the mirror, shattering it and splashing wine down its surface and across the counter.
At 6:10AM Emma left her bathroom, routine complete.
"What's the schedule for today?" she asked her AI assistant. Listening to the report she smiled at the mention of the delegates visiting from Etisalat in the UAR. Today was the day to knock them off balance. The microskirt outfit. Let them gape at her and leave themselves open for a roughshod rogering.
Right. Her new protege Wednesday was due. Let's see how she copes with the cutthroat world.
Breakfast was waiting on cue, her discreet personal chef having placed it on the dining table and vacated the room just before her arrival. She ate, savouring the sensations he'd prepared for her, washing it down with the waiting glass of claret.
At 6:30AM Emma strode out, resplendent in her unique fashion choices for the day, ready to take on the world.
