Emma and Manuel: White Queen's Gambit
Oct. 31st, 2008 11:39 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsBackdated to October 31. Apologies but life attacked both of us and this has to be posted to make sense of future logs.
Emma Frost found herself in a most unusual state of mind. The ice-cool facade of the White Queen was, on this very rare occasion, actually a facade. Beneath it, she found herself almost . . . nervous. She had survived a battle against a Russian meat computer and her Primes with nary a second thought, but facing someone she cared for deeply, whom she would disappoint . . . Emma actually found herself biting on her lower lip as she waited for Manuel to arrive at the suite she was currently occupying.
Manuel could feel her growing anxiety as he approached her suite and it only increased his own and his suspicions. It was rare for Emma to ask him to her room, even rarer now days for them to interact. She knew Manuel was busy, testing the extent of his powers, seeing just how far he could go and she did not bother him in the slightest about it, nor did she confess what he already knew, that she knew exactly what he was doing. His hand fell to the door knob and he brushed the front of his shirt briefly, like he was to loosen a tie, except none hung from his neck.
"Come in," said Emma quietly, before Manuel could knock. She had felt him coming for a long time, the tenor of his thoughts made obvious and unavoidable to her by the eagerness with which her telepathy was leaping out of its usual confines. The door opened, and Emma, ever the aesthete, took the time to appreciate the view. Despite the cane, there was an innate grace and beauty to Manuel de la Rocha that was sometimes enough to make her catch her breath. "Manny," she said lightly, and suddenly all of her nervousness disappeared in a flash of joy; the first Emma had felt since she had taken the first steps in her battle against Ignatova. "It is so very good to see you, my darling."
Manuel had taken it upon himself to dress appropriately to see her. It was not fitting for him to show up in a pair of plain shoes, shirt and jeans, but rather, wear a navy dress shirt with black pants, though there was no tie yet. He was not that ready for formal. "As is you, Emma," he said and slowly came in, taking a seat immediately and setting the cane aside. "You beckoned?"
"Or summoned," said Emma. "Seeing this is Hellfire Club business." She caught her lip between her teeth again then stopped herself instantly, schooling her face to calm. "I have done something that will - disappoint you. And yet I also seek to make amends for that disappointment." Emma was never afraid of confrontation so her eyes did not leave Manny's. "I ask only that you take the time to hear me out."
His interest peaked and he placed his hands on his knees, attentive with his gaze. It only wavered when she started out the way she did and he could feel the shift in her. "Very well," he began, brows furrowing together. "I am listening." But not very well. Already he had the bad seed planted. It only needed to grow now.
"Sebastian has been recruiting," said Emma. "And I have - done something that means I will almost certainly have to consolidate the White Court. Which consisted, as of last week, of me. I was forced to declare the position of White Knight open just over a year ago, Manny. You were still in your coma and there was nothing there. I used to visit you and scan and there was - nothing, no matter how deep I probed. Your return is a miracle, but it's a miracle too late. I held your position as long as I could but Shaw decided to pour poison into the wounds last year and force a vote." She stood up for a moment, aware of the pain of her own betrayal, aware of the pain of being betrayed. "You - were lost to me. Shinobi decided that he no longer wanted to play his father's games. So I was forced to declare all positions vacant in the White Court. I - lost heart to recruit. I have been distracted by Frost Enterprises and other matters and I have let the White Court slip. But last week my hand was forced again."
Manuel's hand closed over his fist and his expression darkened. "You..." He couldn't finish his sentence, cutting himself off before he pointedly said something that would be more than merely unappreciative. "I have been here for almost a year," he said finally, leaning forward. "And it is now that you decide the time is right to explain this?" So this was what the white court had dissolved into. A shattered enterprise of connections, common goals and merely a shadow of what it once was. Discarded. Just like that. So easily from the Hellfire Club, though he knew. A part of him knew the responsibility, that the prestige position would be taken up by someone else. Only he did not want to believe that it would come to that. Yet it has, now.
"Yes," said Emma, aware of the turmoil of Manuel's thoughts. "The White Court has been dormant for a long time, Manny. Oh, I turn up and seduce the locals and keep Shaw off balance, but most of my manoeuvring has been based around the business. I lost you all. Again. I grew tired of losing my proteges, so I chose no more. But Ignatova forced my hand." She sighed. She could lose Manny forever in the next few minutes, but if reacted so rashly, if he had learned so little about her and her methods, then he would never have been right for the role she intended. "I recruited Doug Ramsey to the position of White Knight."
You what? He spat inwardly. His thoughts twisted and coiled, writhering in a chokehold of being cut off (to him) so abruptly from the Hellfireclub. Angrily, he carelessly let his erratic emotions whip out, fueling his reckless projections onto her. Doug Ramsey? He couldn't believe the selection, his replacement, of all people. _This_ was an outrage. He was sure that she was reading his thoughts and he quickly reined his emotions in. His brows creased and for a long time, he said nothing.
"What is your alternative?" Naturally, she always had a second plan.
Emma smiled, pleased at Manuel's ability to hold back the emotions that used to rule him. "You are born to be King, Manny. Perhaps, one day, you may become the greatest King of the White Court. But the role of King is no longer what it was. Once a King had to be a fighter, preserver of territory, first into battle. The role of White Knight was the perfect entree into the role of the King-that-was. But these days - ah, these days the King must be politician and balancer, aware of nuance, in perfect control, perfect knowledge." She stood up and circled around Manny, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin. "Command is control, Manny. In every sense of the word. To learn to command as a King must, you must learn control; of yourself, of others." She stopped in front of him, let her fingers touch his hand lightly, cool white against dark heat. "I wish to offer you the position of White Bishop, Manny."
"A demotion?" He echoed his thoughts, putting a voice to them instead of silence, unwilling to mask his disgust. Doug Ramsey was going to be White Knight, though he probably already was in the position, considering Emma wasted no time. And he was to be White bishop. Somehow, all he could think of was a feeble man (which yes, he was _just_ that), running around, twittering in the queen's ear, providing her countless information that she coud not aquire from anywhere else. A useless, twittering idiot, he would be.
Emma arched one eyebrow in something that may have been surprise or may have been mockery. "Perhaps you and I see the world differently, Manny," she said calmly. "You see rank. I see power. As White Bishop, you would have access to all information, all knowledge, all contacts. I would trust you to oversee information gathering and develop strategies to keep the Black Court in check. To keep Harry Leland in check." A small smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Because that is where the power lies now in the Black Court. The Rook rules the King and Shaw hasn't even noticed it. Power is in your grasp, Manny. Would you throw it away for the illusion of rank?"
He knew what she was doing and his eyes narrowed as did his focused concentration of his emotions. "Yes, perhaps we do see things differently. I would have not put Doug Ramsey - a phenominal, computer playing geek in a position of white knight where he may have to do more than wield his mind - and taken your broken white knight, cut him off at the knees and proclaimed him White Bishop, your greatest manipulation pull of all time. All because you feel guilty and this is your way of reining in your pathetic pity party before it becomes too unbearable."
Emma threw back her head and laughed. "You know me as well as you do and yet you assume that I pity you? Do you really think that I have ever felt pity in my life? For anyone? I offer you White Bishop because I assume your competence and capacity to fulfil the role, not because I think you are weak and pitiable. As for my choice of White Knight," Emma shrugged. "Circumstances change. Doug Ramsey should not have survived Ignatova. He did. I did not expect my choice of Knight to have - long-term repercussions. But I made my choice based on my requirements at the time, and I will not recoil from that choice because the outcome was not what I expected."
Manuel turned his head away, eyes shifted out the window and he lifted his hand, brushing over his mouth in a thin grim line. It was a long time before he spoke but when he did, his eyes held hers. "It is no secret that Doug and I do not get along. I am very displeased by your rash decision and you leave me with very little option, other than to accept this ridiculous offer set in front of me." Manuel was disappointed in Emma, in all that was happening, but he felt that things were fast in motion and he could not afford to be left out of the circle. Manuel de la Rocha did not fall.
"I have never found it necessary to get along with people the people I work with. Nor to get what I want," replied Emma. "So long as you do not intend to skewer Doug in the middle of the meeting, you can offend each other to your heart's content." Her voice softened suddenly. "I know that you do not believe me at this moment, Manny darling, but I am sorry that I've hurt you. I believe that you will gain a great deal from taking on the role of Bishop. Far more, I think, than White Knight. I doubt, however, that you wish to hear my plans just yet. Perhaps another time?" Emma was almost tentative in her request; she wished Manny to stay but she could sense the seething anger in his thoughts and suspected he wouldn't.
The shift of position was sore and it strained in his shoulders. He was not kicked out but still had a position. The position that told him where he stood, lower by her heel so she could step on him with her stilettos if he was a bad dog. Manuel stood up after she said what she had to say. He had nothing further to say as far as Doug went and anything he did say would be less than courteous on his part. Instead, he leaned on his cane and nodded. "Perhaps another time."
Emma Frost found herself in a most unusual state of mind. The ice-cool facade of the White Queen was, on this very rare occasion, actually a facade. Beneath it, she found herself almost . . . nervous. She had survived a battle against a Russian meat computer and her Primes with nary a second thought, but facing someone she cared for deeply, whom she would disappoint . . . Emma actually found herself biting on her lower lip as she waited for Manuel to arrive at the suite she was currently occupying.
Manuel could feel her growing anxiety as he approached her suite and it only increased his own and his suspicions. It was rare for Emma to ask him to her room, even rarer now days for them to interact. She knew Manuel was busy, testing the extent of his powers, seeing just how far he could go and she did not bother him in the slightest about it, nor did she confess what he already knew, that she knew exactly what he was doing. His hand fell to the door knob and he brushed the front of his shirt briefly, like he was to loosen a tie, except none hung from his neck.
"Come in," said Emma quietly, before Manuel could knock. She had felt him coming for a long time, the tenor of his thoughts made obvious and unavoidable to her by the eagerness with which her telepathy was leaping out of its usual confines. The door opened, and Emma, ever the aesthete, took the time to appreciate the view. Despite the cane, there was an innate grace and beauty to Manuel de la Rocha that was sometimes enough to make her catch her breath. "Manny," she said lightly, and suddenly all of her nervousness disappeared in a flash of joy; the first Emma had felt since she had taken the first steps in her battle against Ignatova. "It is so very good to see you, my darling."
Manuel had taken it upon himself to dress appropriately to see her. It was not fitting for him to show up in a pair of plain shoes, shirt and jeans, but rather, wear a navy dress shirt with black pants, though there was no tie yet. He was not that ready for formal. "As is you, Emma," he said and slowly came in, taking a seat immediately and setting the cane aside. "You beckoned?"
"Or summoned," said Emma. "Seeing this is Hellfire Club business." She caught her lip between her teeth again then stopped herself instantly, schooling her face to calm. "I have done something that will - disappoint you. And yet I also seek to make amends for that disappointment." Emma was never afraid of confrontation so her eyes did not leave Manny's. "I ask only that you take the time to hear me out."
His interest peaked and he placed his hands on his knees, attentive with his gaze. It only wavered when she started out the way she did and he could feel the shift in her. "Very well," he began, brows furrowing together. "I am listening." But not very well. Already he had the bad seed planted. It only needed to grow now.
"Sebastian has been recruiting," said Emma. "And I have - done something that means I will almost certainly have to consolidate the White Court. Which consisted, as of last week, of me. I was forced to declare the position of White Knight open just over a year ago, Manny. You were still in your coma and there was nothing there. I used to visit you and scan and there was - nothing, no matter how deep I probed. Your return is a miracle, but it's a miracle too late. I held your position as long as I could but Shaw decided to pour poison into the wounds last year and force a vote." She stood up for a moment, aware of the pain of her own betrayal, aware of the pain of being betrayed. "You - were lost to me. Shinobi decided that he no longer wanted to play his father's games. So I was forced to declare all positions vacant in the White Court. I - lost heart to recruit. I have been distracted by Frost Enterprises and other matters and I have let the White Court slip. But last week my hand was forced again."
Manuel's hand closed over his fist and his expression darkened. "You..." He couldn't finish his sentence, cutting himself off before he pointedly said something that would be more than merely unappreciative. "I have been here for almost a year," he said finally, leaning forward. "And it is now that you decide the time is right to explain this?" So this was what the white court had dissolved into. A shattered enterprise of connections, common goals and merely a shadow of what it once was. Discarded. Just like that. So easily from the Hellfire Club, though he knew. A part of him knew the responsibility, that the prestige position would be taken up by someone else. Only he did not want to believe that it would come to that. Yet it has, now.
"Yes," said Emma, aware of the turmoil of Manuel's thoughts. "The White Court has been dormant for a long time, Manny. Oh, I turn up and seduce the locals and keep Shaw off balance, but most of my manoeuvring has been based around the business. I lost you all. Again. I grew tired of losing my proteges, so I chose no more. But Ignatova forced my hand." She sighed. She could lose Manny forever in the next few minutes, but if reacted so rashly, if he had learned so little about her and her methods, then he would never have been right for the role she intended. "I recruited Doug Ramsey to the position of White Knight."
You what? He spat inwardly. His thoughts twisted and coiled, writhering in a chokehold of being cut off (to him) so abruptly from the Hellfireclub. Angrily, he carelessly let his erratic emotions whip out, fueling his reckless projections onto her. Doug Ramsey? He couldn't believe the selection, his replacement, of all people. _This_ was an outrage. He was sure that she was reading his thoughts and he quickly reined his emotions in. His brows creased and for a long time, he said nothing.
"What is your alternative?" Naturally, she always had a second plan.
Emma smiled, pleased at Manuel's ability to hold back the emotions that used to rule him. "You are born to be King, Manny. Perhaps, one day, you may become the greatest King of the White Court. But the role of King is no longer what it was. Once a King had to be a fighter, preserver of territory, first into battle. The role of White Knight was the perfect entree into the role of the King-that-was. But these days - ah, these days the King must be politician and balancer, aware of nuance, in perfect control, perfect knowledge." She stood up and circled around Manny, so close that she could feel the heat of his skin. "Command is control, Manny. In every sense of the word. To learn to command as a King must, you must learn control; of yourself, of others." She stopped in front of him, let her fingers touch his hand lightly, cool white against dark heat. "I wish to offer you the position of White Bishop, Manny."
"A demotion?" He echoed his thoughts, putting a voice to them instead of silence, unwilling to mask his disgust. Doug Ramsey was going to be White Knight, though he probably already was in the position, considering Emma wasted no time. And he was to be White bishop. Somehow, all he could think of was a feeble man (which yes, he was _just_ that), running around, twittering in the queen's ear, providing her countless information that she coud not aquire from anywhere else. A useless, twittering idiot, he would be.
Emma arched one eyebrow in something that may have been surprise or may have been mockery. "Perhaps you and I see the world differently, Manny," she said calmly. "You see rank. I see power. As White Bishop, you would have access to all information, all knowledge, all contacts. I would trust you to oversee information gathering and develop strategies to keep the Black Court in check. To keep Harry Leland in check." A small smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Because that is where the power lies now in the Black Court. The Rook rules the King and Shaw hasn't even noticed it. Power is in your grasp, Manny. Would you throw it away for the illusion of rank?"
He knew what she was doing and his eyes narrowed as did his focused concentration of his emotions. "Yes, perhaps we do see things differently. I would have not put Doug Ramsey - a phenominal, computer playing geek in a position of white knight where he may have to do more than wield his mind - and taken your broken white knight, cut him off at the knees and proclaimed him White Bishop, your greatest manipulation pull of all time. All because you feel guilty and this is your way of reining in your pathetic pity party before it becomes too unbearable."
Emma threw back her head and laughed. "You know me as well as you do and yet you assume that I pity you? Do you really think that I have ever felt pity in my life? For anyone? I offer you White Bishop because I assume your competence and capacity to fulfil the role, not because I think you are weak and pitiable. As for my choice of White Knight," Emma shrugged. "Circumstances change. Doug Ramsey should not have survived Ignatova. He did. I did not expect my choice of Knight to have - long-term repercussions. But I made my choice based on my requirements at the time, and I will not recoil from that choice because the outcome was not what I expected."
Manuel turned his head away, eyes shifted out the window and he lifted his hand, brushing over his mouth in a thin grim line. It was a long time before he spoke but when he did, his eyes held hers. "It is no secret that Doug and I do not get along. I am very displeased by your rash decision and you leave me with very little option, other than to accept this ridiculous offer set in front of me." Manuel was disappointed in Emma, in all that was happening, but he felt that things were fast in motion and he could not afford to be left out of the circle. Manuel de la Rocha did not fall.
"I have never found it necessary to get along with people the people I work with. Nor to get what I want," replied Emma. "So long as you do not intend to skewer Doug in the middle of the meeting, you can offend each other to your heart's content." Her voice softened suddenly. "I know that you do not believe me at this moment, Manny darling, but I am sorry that I've hurt you. I believe that you will gain a great deal from taking on the role of Bishop. Far more, I think, than White Knight. I doubt, however, that you wish to hear my plans just yet. Perhaps another time?" Emma was almost tentative in her request; she wished Manny to stay but she could sense the seething anger in his thoughts and suspected he wouldn't.
The shift of position was sore and it strained in his shoulders. He was not kicked out but still had a position. The position that told him where he stood, lower by her heel so she could step on him with her stilettos if he was a bad dog. Manuel stood up after she said what she had to say. He had nothing further to say as far as Doug went and anything he did say would be less than courteous on his part. Instead, he leaned on his cane and nodded. "Perhaps another time."
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Date: 2008-12-31 03:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-31 04:16 am (UTC)This log turned out to be a bit of an echo of the other one, with the twist being that this time, Manny is really, really pissed off at Emma. And she accepts he has a point with that.
A