Mutatis Mutandis
help  |  site index  |  
Roleplay Logs
*archives one
*archives two
*archives three
*archives four
*archives five
*archives six
*archives seven
*archives eight
*archives nine
*archives ten
*archives eleven
*archives twelve
*archives thirteen
*archives fourteen
*search logs
*submit logs
Art Gallery
Character Pages
Fan Fiction
Code Repository
Logs Quick Search
  Roleplay Log

Dinner Interlude
Submitted 5 October 2003 by Hope.
IC Date:   3 October 2003
Point of View:   Hope
Participants:   Emma Frost, Hope, Katrin, Paul
Locale:   Posh Restaurant, New York City
Summary:   A nice quiet dinner at the MET between Emma and Hope is joined by Katrin and Paul.

Hard pink highlights illuminate the nearly platinum tresses of stunning blonde hair, which are caught up in an unprofessional but eye catching loose ponytail. Her soft bangs are swept up revealing icy, blue eyes of nearly luminous quality, set equidistant and perfect on either side of a patrician nose. Her healthy-pallored skin is augmented only by the deep pink rose of her full lips.
Dressing for the warmer weather, a sleeveless summerdress of white flatters her maidenly curves. Two spaghetti strips of fabric travel up narrow shoulders and tie behind the nape of the neck, to hold the silver-trimmed bodice of the dress a mere two inches above indescretion, with the dropped V low enough to settle between the valley of her bosoms; the side-panels trail down her sides with loving grace before turning sharply to form the waistline of the skirt. Were she to raise her lithe, toned arms, the swell of her ample breasts would be easily seen from a profile view; this also leaves her back bared to the world, flawless and creamy-smooth, clear down to the delicate dimple at the base of her spine.
Gathered at the her trim, narrow middle with a thin waist bracelet of silver and weighted at the hem with bands of the same precious metal, the ankle-length, free flowing skirt hangs heavily; it rolls over the gentle curvature of her hips with coquettish flaire. Split up to her right hip, clasped with only three little silver chains draping over the sculpted thigh, it shamelessly displays her shapely, white-stockinged legs, clear down to the open toed, two-inch dress heels in silver, that are strapped to her feminine feet. She's usually accessorized with a small, white leather purse, and trailed with a light, lingering, spicy-sweet perfume.

A halo of sun streaked, honey golden curls float around this woman's deeply bronzed face with lighter pale blonde streaks highlighting it. The sides are pulls up and back in the front by a hair clasp creating almost a crown effect of curls, though stray sun-kissed tendrils wisp and curl around her face to frame it softly, the rest of the curls being pulled abck into a loose ponytail by a tasteful clasp. Sun bleached golden eyebrows frame her somewhat almond shaped bright green eyes, aided by the long sweeping golden eyelashes. Her small button-like nose has a faint hint of pink to it from hours in the sun and her cheeks glow with a healthy bronze. Her full rose hued lips looking even paler in comparison to her tanned face have no need of any artificial hue but are covered by a clear gloss. She stands 5'6 in shoes and her slender frame shows evidence of having also been touched by the sun's rays, a golden bronze color showing from any exposed portion of her body.
A fashion plate of Cream and white, Hope's designer duds, cause her sun darkened skin to stand out all the more. A short sleeved white cashmere sweater from Oscar de la Renta covers her upper torso with soft folds that compliment her figure well. A white ribbon with a cameo pendant of ivory and pearl design hangs down to mid chest. If one were to open it they'd find a picture of Hope's mother on one side and a picture of her God-mother, Emma, on the other. The sweater is untucked over a long creme colored A-line skirt that flares out just slightly at the end, near her ankles where a pair of dark brown, glossy boots cover her tiny feet. A delicate shawl of fine silk, woven into an intricate design of Celtic knotwork is draped around her shoulders and rests over the crease of her elbows.

With such white, white, skin, most may wonder if she has been sick for some time, kept indoors or bedridden, away from natural sources of light, in order to render her so pale. Her platinum blond hair has been pulled back in a loose Japanese-style bun, held in place by what looks like a pair of black chopsticks, though a few strands of hair drift free. She looks to perhaps be in her early twenties, though she barely tops a full five feet in height and her build is slight and slender, making her appear a few years younger and giving her an almost waifish air. The delicate features of her face are unblemished by any freckles or other markings, though from the stern set of her pale lips, one can easily guess that smiles are a rare occurrence upon her face. A pair of dainty glasses with pitch-black lenses rests high upon the bridge of her nose, hiding only her eyes from view behind the dark tint, the rest of her face touched with a distnct asian cast over her features.
A three-quarter length, scarlet, leather jacket covers her slight frame, cut a bit longer in the back and vaguely reminicent of a pirate's style with long, wide, sleeves laced up the sides in black ribbon through silver rivets. The lapels of the coat are almost nonexistant, the collar high and slightly flared, revealing dark, blood red fishnet stretched across her chest, a low cut black leather bodice keeping her decent. Matching black leather pants fit her legs like a second skin, tucked neatly into the tops of almost knee-high Doc Marten boots. She wouldn't really look that out of place at a typical goth club. A pair of rings hang from a long silver chain about her neck, the two hoops of metal settling easily against her body as she moves. One is an intricate lacework of many different silver strands, set with a tiny diamond or two and marked with a string of Japanese kanji. The other is a much more simple thing, a solid silver band etched with symbols that have nearly been worn away completely. Her hands are covered to the knuckles by a fine mesh of fishnet, continuations of the long sleeves of her shirt.

He stands at about 6ft and is very thin, maybe 150 pounds. He has short raven colored hair, with the front part of his hair coming down to right above his eyes to give him that goth look. His eyes are a soft blue, glossy color, contrasting badly with the rest of his body and attire. His face has an almost perpetual frown on it, more from his hard life than anything seems as if this teen rarely smiles at all. As with most goths, he wears solid black. His shirt is a solid black velvet suit piece while his pants are a black leather of some sort. Of course, he hasn't totally left his old lifestyle, his black combat boots have red writing on them with various band names on them. Over it all, is a brand new ankle length black trench coat whos collar molds around the back of his neck. His skin color is an almost pasty white, overall he looks the very part of a goth. As a goth, he is moody at most times, but he knows when to hold it in check...its not always the best thing to pop off to a cop. He carries himself with a quiet demeanor, as if a gloom hangs about him.


A fine fall evening it is. The young Miss Winters finds herself in for a treat as she accompanies her god-mother, Emma Frost to the posh lounge in the Metropolitan Museum for a late dinner. The soft sounds of classical music trickes through the dining area as they enter. Soft glow od candelight illuminates the small and intimate tables where spotless waiters and waitresses scurry to and fro with the patrons' orders, quick to appease them in hopes of that big tip at the end of the meal.

Naturally. Hope will be spoiled by Christmas. Believe it or not, Emma is actually looking forward to the Holidays with much simpler folk, for a reason to get out of New York and Massachusetts for a break. With more pleasant things on her mind in a relaxed atmosphere, the Queen is nowhere near hostile. She's even somewhere near 'pleasant'. Even still, the woman rarely ever manages an actual smile. If she ever does, watch the skies: The world may be ending. Frost waits patiently to be seated - immediately, no wait - in the most comfortable booth they can manage, and with very few words to the Maitre di.

After an annoying trip through the museum, Paul finally manages to pull Katrin away from the exhibits to get something to eat. He can't help calls after all. As they enter, Paul removes his shades and places them in his pocket as he rehooks his arm around her, "Come on luv, this place works better than most...sides, I feel like eatting in style today. We don't do it often enough you know." He smiles and squeezes her slightly.

Katrin sighs a touch, but leans into Paul's arm slightly, saying nothing as she glances around the restraunt, her expression neutral behind her sunglasses. Unlike Paul, she chooses to leave hers in place, simply giving a slight nod in silence.

Hope looks over to Emma and smiles shyly. "It's truly beautiful here. I think...." she pauses and tilts her head a little as she thinks "I think I used to work here. I visited when I came to the city before school started and there were an awful lot of people here, employees, that knew me." Even though Sven, the driver/bodyguard has surely already filled Ms. Frost in on this detail since he followed her like a shadow for the most part. Except those two times she was restless and couldn't sleep in the middle of the night and went out on her own. She sits at the booth and unfolds her napkin, smoothing it over her lap properly.

Mirroring Hope's movements exactly - or vice versa, Emma glances across the table toward her youthful counterpart. "Yes, you did. Remembering is becoming much easier for you now," the woman replies with her usual canor, though keeping her voice at just below normal volume. Paul's familiar psyche catches her attention more readily then Katrin's presence, and the Queen takes a moment to glance over toward the entry of the two. Well, now. Emma's icy blue eyes lance across to the nearest table; with but a few simple telepathic urges, the couple there abandon their meal. Another subtle command brings the servants to clear this table and clean it with rapidity. Finally, her frigid azure orbs turn to settle upon the Maitre Di, telepathically informing the man that Mr. Paul O'Connell is important, has reservations, and should be immediately recognized... and seated right at the table that was just flushed of its occupants. Handy, that.

Paul smiles, leaning over to place a kiss on Katrin's cheek, "Cheer up hun, we'll go back to your studying after I get some food...and I promise I won't even complain one time." He grins as he steps forward to talk to the Maitre Di, "Hi, do you happen to have a table available? ... My name? Paul ... yes, thats me..." he just blinks and turns to looks at Kat, "Umm, luv...we have a reservation, you didn't call ahead did you?" He's not worried, just curious now...of course there could be others with his name, so he might as well take advantage of the good turn of events. "Actually...nevermind." He turns to the man again and smiles, "Yes, take us to the table my good man." He smirks.

Katrin arches an eyebrow slightly, shaking her head when asked about the reservation, but otherwise remaining politely silent, doing her part to keep from confusing the maitre'd more than he may already be. She has her suspicions that it's all simply some sort of set up on Paul's part... if people start serenading their table, he's going to get a severe talking to.

Hope nods enthusiastically, completely oblivious and unaware of her god-mother's gifts and her use of them. "It is. It's seeing through a fog. The images, they come and go in flashes sometimes. Sometimes big ones sometimes so fast I can barely make them out but they are coming back." Which could be good and could be bad as well. "I...I remembered a lot of things when I came here by myself." she admits in a quieter voice. She's a little bit hesitant about telling Emma all of it. About her leaving the Hellfire Club in the middle of the night and ending up in the rough part of town where she once tended to a sick werewolf. She's afraid more that Emma will think her insane for even mentioning the werewolf than she is about the leaving without Sven. In all honesty she didn't want to wake him and disturb him. She's a bit too polite for high society. She glances over the top of the menu at Emma and chews her fingernail behind the menu.

Perhaps the cause of both Katrin and Paul's good fortune will be revealed upon arrival at one of the nicest tables in the house, since the Queen is only a few yards away. Hope's escapades without proper guard only draws a quick glance from the Queen, before she too lifts the menu to gaze over the listing of entrees. She's not going to scorn the girl over something said and done. "I was with you," she states simply, assuredly, and without hesitation. "I understand the need to do things on one's own. I've been doing that more and more lately. I must be getting old."

Katrin happens to glance over towards Emma and Hope's table as she walks past, needing to do a doubletake before she actually recognizes Hope. If she had any doubts, the snippets of conversation overheard are enough to be convincing. Well, it is good to hear Hope's memory is improving at least. She spares the pair a polite nod, not wanting to intrude upon their conversation, then slides into her chair as it is held out for her by one of the restraunt staff.

Hope smiles as she sets down the menu, a held breath exhaled slowly. Well that was easier than she thought. "To be honest I...well, part of the reason I spent that week here was ...well.." she looks down at the tabletop shyly as she says in a quiet voice "to make you proud of me. I..I want to be like you, so strong and brave. Nothing scares you." She picks up her water glass and takes a sip before going on. "I even spoke to a boy without being too scared." she confesses, her eyes sliding over toward the movement she catches out of the corner of her eyes and spies Katrin. A slight tilt of the head adn some thoughtfulness passes before the young woman waves over to Katrin.

Emma glances across to Hope for a moment, touched... but not letting the sentiment reach her visage. "Hope, dear... you have nothing to prove to anyone but yourself. I know you are capable of more than you believe. I know one day, you will be able to look upon the world with a carefree conscience, and a smile for all occasions to brighten even the darkest hours. I know it is in you to succeed. I can only show you the way."

So close, yet so far away, but Hope pretty much just made Katrin's night by that little wave - at least she isn't running in terror. Perhaps it's due to present company, but whatever it is, Katrin is content with that for now. She lifts a hand towards Hope in response, giving her friend a light wave and a brief smile, then drops her gaze to study the menu, not wanting to intrude. She exchanges a few soft words with Paul, giving his hand a light squeeze before he slides out from the table and walks off elsewhere to do who knows what.

Hope looks up brightly. She may know Emma better than most, at least on some level. It doesn't take gratuitous overtures from the woman for Hope to sense her praise or warmth. She just does. But then, she's always had a way of relating to those that keep thier emotions under wraps. "I sure hope so Aunt Emma. I'm trying, really hard." And she is. It took a lot of guts to be here alone that week, even if she did have her bodyguard with her. She glances over to Emma then to Katrin. "Would you mind of I invited a friend to join us?" she asks her god-mother.

Paul returns a few moments later, weaving his way through other patrons and waiters as arrives at the table. He removes his trench and puts it on the back of his chair, at least the kid has manors. "Sorry luv, I had to run take care of something first." He smiles and looks around quickly, just taking in the surroundings when he spots Emma and Hope. He bows his head slightly, "Ladies." He smiles a little and flicks a glance over them, and oddly enough spends that fraction of a second more looking at Hope, because frankly...Emma scares him. He looks back at Kat and smiles, "So, would you care for anything? My treat."