Frost Sisters - bonding over shoes and cognac

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

The Frost siblings celebrate Emma's birthday together. After discussing a new Hellfire Club threat, and after a lot of alcohol, their talk turns much more personal.


Stepping back from making a minor adjustment to a cushion of the couch, Adrienne surveyed the penthouse's main room with a scrutinizing eye. She wanted everything to look perfect for Emma's visit. Many of the furnishings in the place were new, thanks to Steven's ghost's departing efforts, so at least that was a plus. The couch had been repaired, and the chairs hadn't needed any work at all. Hopefully Emma wouldn't even notice that anything had happened here

Satisfied by the appearance of the living room after making an adjustment to a cut flower in a vase on the coffee table, Adrienne moved on to the kitchen, where the caterers had just left the food five minutes before. She'd been avoiding the kitchen because it smelled amazing, and she was worried she might steal a bite of something before her sister arrived, which was surely unacceptable in the realm of etiquette. The table had been set, the food arranged professionally, the wine airing on the table, ready to be poured. Nothing to do there.

Nothing to do at all except wait for Emma to buzz. She wandered back into the living room and was rearranging the flowers for the umpteenth time when she the sound of the buzzer made her jump, sending her dashing across the room to press it without using the speaker. Only a few moments now, while Emma was in the lift, and then she would arrive. It would be the first time Adrienne had ever had a family member over.

Emma checked her shields carefully as the lift ascended. Adrienne no longer shouted her thoughts as she used to, but when she did occasionally slip back into old habits, she turned into a hurricane of random thoughts and emotions and it was safer for Emma to stay safely tucked behind some very strong shields.

Emma did not attempt to deny to herself that there was another reason for the strength of her shields. Her sister had invited her over to celebrate her birthday. The last memory Emma had of a birthday celebration with her family was when she had turned thirteen. Christian had made her a cake; it was tiny and lopsided and burned at the bottom, and they'd eaten it in his locked room, hiding away from yet another of their parent's terrifying rows, the younger girls safely out of harm's way in their own rooms. Typical clueless near-teenage boy, he'd given her a Sweet Valley High novel which she'd never had a chance to read, but he'd let her stay all night and lied and said she wasn't there when Winston had come looking for her and held her until she stopped shaking afterwards. A few weeks after that she'd been out of her mind and in the asylum and Christian had not lived to see his fifteenth birthday.

Emma was not entirely sure how she felt about family celebrations.

She tucked all of that away behind her usual ice-cool facade, however, as she knocked at Adrienne's door.

Adrienne wasn't having any trouble these days keeping her mind calm and her fledgling shields up, so when she opened the door to greet Emma she was collected and her smile for Emma was untroubled and genuine. Despite the fading bruises on her face and neck, she was feeling better than she had in, well, ever. "Happy birthday," she said happily, stepping back from the doorway to usher her sister in. "Please come in and make yourself comfortable while I pour the wine. I thought we'd go for French tonight, if that suits you, although from what I hear about the event at the Enterprises on Tuesday anything I could have catered will pale in comparison. I did, however," she grinned, "attempt a cake myself. My second, since Garrison Kane's birthday, and I swear this one is entirely edible and not at all suited to playing sports with. The box on the coffee table is for you- just a little something I had commissioned." She trotted off into the kitchen to pour the wine, leaving Emma with the box of white leather Ferragamos she'd designed for her sister.

Emma blinked at the whirlwind of information and the exquisitely wrapped box that perched on the table before her. "Thank you," she said, absently, as she untied the white silk ribbon and used diamond fingernails to slice apart the tape that held it all together. The soft pleased noise she made at the sight of the deliciously strappy stiletto boots was entirely unforced. "They're beautiful," she called out to Adrienne. She grinned suddenly, a carefree smile that would have startled and terrified anyone from Snow Valley who saw it, so different was it from her usual expression. "What did I say about Frost girls and shoes? I'm sure it's genetic."

Returning with two glasses of white wine and a tray of canapés, Adrienne gave Emma a smirk as she set herself in a chair. "Cordelia must be adopted, then. Although perhaps it went to Christian instead of the third Frost girl." Unsure of why she'd mentioned Christian when she'd tried so hard throughout the years not to think on him at all, Adrienne sipped at her wine to stem the flow of her statement. It must have been Emma's line in the email about the family celebration. Since reading it, she'd been dwelling on the family and past celebrations lately. "But that's probably not the best topic of discussion at your birthday. I'm sorry," she murmured, frowning as she took an appetizer off the tray. Being in contact with a family member again after so many years spent pushing them away, Adrienne was a little unsure how she felt about delving into the past, speaking of things neither of them could change now. She would much rather speak of their lives now, and the future. "I thought they would suit the White Queen," she continued, grasping onto the much safer topic of shoes and- compared with the topic of Christian- the Hellfire Club.

"The White Queen is very pleased indeed," replied Emma. She swirled the wine carefully, sniffing it then tasting it. "A very fine chardonnay," she added as she reached for one of the appetisers. She was not going to respond to the comment about Christian; it cut too close to her memories and for a swift moment the loss of her brother was the same crystal-clear slash of pain it had been when she had first been told about it. She used the time it took to eat the delicious canape to dampen the emotion, then nodded at her sister's face. "Should I ask or were you saving the world again?" she said.

"Most likely another topic to avoid discussing at one's birthday," Adrienne replied with a wry smile, "but I had a visit from my dear departed husband, from beyond the grave. After he tediously attempted to kill me, trying to make up for not being able to do it while he was alive, I managed to finally stand up to him and send him back to Hell. For good this time, I believe. So no, not saving the world," she smiled, proud this time rather than wan, "but saving my own, I suppose, in the sense that I finally feel free of him for the first time since we married. I finally know he's never going to hurt me again, or influence my world. And all it cost me was a knock to the face." She took another canapé. "Partly, my being able to confront Steven was due to another man acting in a similar manner, in the sense of trying to control me and keep me helpless, only a couple weeks before this happened. A man at a Black Court function I'd been invited to. Jason Wyngarde?" She was fairly certain Emma would know the name from the business world. "Balliol International. Which is, as I'm sure you know, technically owned by Sebastian Shaw. It would seem that they're close friends."

"I do sometimes realise how very strange our lives are," murmured Emma wryly, buying time as she let her brain process Wyngarde's name through her memories. "The fact that you got beaten up and then banished your dead husband seems perfectly reasonable to me, but I'm sure that such things aren't part of a normal life. Wyngarde's just a functionary, isn't he?" she said as she finished her cross-referencing of memories and learned facts. "A high-level functionary and yes, I am led to believe, a personal friend of Shaw's, but he has no particular status in the Courts. I don't believe he's angling for power." She frowned suddenly. "But he sought to - attack you?"

"They're only part of a normal life to those who have come into contact with the mansion," Adrienne agreed with a smile. She sipped at her wine and made sure that her mind was ordered, calm, and shielded. Her newfound personal resolve and integrity, her assurance in her ability to protect herself meant that she wasn't plagued by blinding, thoughtless fear over what Wyngarde had done or might do in the future or what she might allow herself to do in return, yet she still wasn't completely comfortable with what had happened with Wyngarde. "Not attack in the sense of desiring to physically harm me," she clarified. "It was a display, of my helplessness, to make it very clear to me that I was nothing and that if I wanted any power in the Black Court, I had to play the game on terms he knew all too well." She quickly pulled a shoe out from under the couch and wiped one of her hands on a wetnap- she wasn't particularly looking forward to reliving the night of the party, especially since reading it would burn the images into her mind more clearly than she could see them now, but she wanted to be accurate for Emma's sake. Setting her jaw, she touched the shoe with her uncoated hand.


Her eyes were unfocused for only a minute before she let the shoe drop and picked up her glass of wine with her other hand. After a swallow, she turned back to her sister. "I think Shaw's given him a lot of power, Emma. Not a particular status, no, but it was made very clear to me." The very fact that he didn't have any official status was the reason she had wished to warn Emma. He seemed much more dangerous without having a place in the official Court. "He said 'You will do whatever we require of you, without question, if you wish to succeed in this court. Neither Shaw or I care what you personally feel you're willing or unwilling to do. He is the Black King, and you are nothing.'" She quoted, throwing her voice to try and lighten the statement. "'We', Emma. 'Neither Shaw nor I.' He's in this game. He may still be taking orders from Shaw, but he's on a f*cking long leash." She nibbled on another canapé and kicked the shoe back under the couch. "The thing I thought you might find amusing, however, is that he told me 'you can be used and discarded at a whim. If you wish to change that fact, be prepared to do whatever is required without question'. He's keeping the door open to me, if I choose to pursue the power. Which I'm not," she added instantly, making a face. "I've had enough of that sort of power. I don't want it. But what if we make him think I do?" Another 'we', and one she hoped was just as effective as the team of Shaw and Wyngarde. "I could be used to your advantage, to help you make sure he doesn't gain any of the power he seeks from you, could I not?"



Emma had become used to Adrienne's conversational style over time and waited until her sister had talked herself to a standstill before responding. "Shaw's position is more shaky than he lets on," she said. "He is more desperate to make alliances, I know that, but I have been taking careful steps to ensure most of the more unsavoury ones are nipped in the bud or subverted." Manny's contacts had proven particularly helpful in that regard; his open position as White Bishop had not severed his family's ties to the Black Court and his increasingly exquisite diplomacy on his Queen's behalf had made some choose to revise their loyalties to at least resemble neutrality. "Wyngarde is not... even on my radar." One fingernail tapped at exquisite lips. "I do not like people who seem to hold power but are not on my radar. I believe investigation is warranted."



Adrienne frowned in thought. Wyngarde wasn't on her radar? That fact alone made him much more dangerous than she'd anticipated. But now Emma knew, and the fact that she was agreeing to investigate settled the slight flip in Adrienne's stomach. "Well, now he is, and I'd like to help with said investigation any way I can. Shall we discuss it over the food?" she suggested, smiling brightly. "We should probably eat it now- if it goes cold I don't know if I have the culinary skills to reheat it."



"And yet you wish me to eat cake?" Emma smiled, to show there was no sting in her words. She waved Adrienne courteously ahead of her. "Let us see if the caterers can top what they've come up with so far."



#####



"They do make a remarkably pretty pile, don't they?" said Emma thoughtfully. Her shoes co-mingled on the floor with Adrienne's as the sisters curled up on the most comfortable chairs they could find and they were, she had to note, very beautiful shoes. It had also been a particularly delicious meal accompanied by extremely liberal applications of some very fine wine and now the evening was being topped off with a warming cognac or six. Despite the seriousness of the discussion over dinner, ranging across some of the finer political machinations of the Club, business accounting methods and a rather baffling contribution on the psychological failings of fans of a baseball club called the Jays from Adrienne, Emma was more relaxed than she had been in - well, in a very long time.


Adrienne gazed at the shoes with an almost loving expression. "Indeed they do. You should see the pile downstairs in the office's Closet- we did a shoot for Jimmy Choo last month and even the leftovers that didn't suit the girls' tastes are pretty." An idea dawned and she jumped up from her chair, swaying only slightly. "We should go down there! To the Closet, to the secret rack where I hide all the best things. You've never been to my office before and no one will be there tonight since I told the employees I was having a Red Sox fan party here tonight to ensure no one would be working late when you came over." She tugged on Emma's hand, very much like a younger sibling who wanted to show her older sister something she'd made. "You can try on and take whatever you fancy," she grinned.


"Perhaps another day," said Emma. Her resistance to Adrienne's tug on her hand was gentle but firm. "It has been too long a . . ." day? week? month? year? for a moment she couldn't decide. "It's been too long," she said finally, honestly.


Smiling congenially, Adrienne sat back down. "I dunno if I would have made it out of there tonight if I'd gone down anyway," she confessed. "They might have found me tomorrow morning passed out among the Cavallis. I'd like that though," she said with an enthusiastic nod, knocking back another cognac, telling herself that at least it wasn't vodka. "You coming another day, I mean. I mean, you can come whenever you like. Whenever no one's around, I mean," she said with a giggle. "We wouldn't want anyone to find out about us." She stabbed a piece of cake off the plate she'd brought into the sitting room. "It has been too long." So much time had come between them. Munching cake, her green eyes went unfocused in thought. "Emma, you know what I hate? One of the things I hate most, but I didn't realize I hated until I kneed Steven's ghost in the balls?" The cake disappeared. "I hate that I let Winston turn me against you. I mean, I know I was the kid and he was the adult and he was royally fucked up so the therapist would say it wasn't my fault, but I didn't live in a bubble. I knew right and wrong. I knew you tried to step in for him and take care of me, but I wanted him to love me more than I wanted you to. So fucking stupid. Sisters should stick together," she announced with conviction. "And gay brothers and sisters should stick together. But I pushed you both away for him. And the most pathetic part is that if I hadn't been fucking stupid then, I would never have fallen for someone like Steven."


"Daddy dearest," replied Emma and her contempt was searing, "did what he did. Our father was a monster who preyed on his own children and our mother was too weak to protect anyone but herself. The fact that any of us survived at all is a triumph. Bad choices," she shrugged, "are not surprising." She settled back on the chair, picking up the surprisingly acceptable cake. "And you were not very old when I - left. And you were hardly going to be charitable after I came back and took Frost Enterprises out from under your nose."

Hearing Emma mention how she'd 'left' made Adrienne wince. "Well, I could have stuck by you through your... leaving... but as usual, I was too wrapped up in my own survival to think of yours. I know it doesn't mean anything now, but I do regret that." Adrienne couldn't even remember ever having gone to the asylum to visit, which made her feel very guilty now. "I regret everything I was while I was under Winston's roof, even though I know that what both of us had to be, what we both did to survive made us into who we are now, which I don't think is such a tragedy. I'm not going to lament over what can't be changed. Well, not for much longer, anyway," she smiled, since she realized that was basically what she was doing. "I don't regret who we are now, that's for sure." She smiled over at Emma, wondering when her sense of intimidation at being in her older sister's presence had vanished. Had it only been since she'd confronted Steven, or was this something that had been receding gradually since she'd joined the Hellfire Club, or even before?

"You did take it, didn't you?" There was a note of awe in her voice as Emma's words about taking Frost Enterprises sunk in through the boozy haze that was settling around her. "I never knew for sure. Part of me always knew, I mean, but part of me wanted to believe that he gave it to you, the way he'd promised to give it to me. I think I let myself believe that because I wanted to hate him more than you, by that point. I guess I'd gotten a little wiser, I knew what he'd done to you and I didn't want to hate you as much as him. You know, I don't feel anything with you telling me that?" That thread of disbelief was back in her tone. She was a tiny bit confused with herself. "All I'm feeling is that I'm happy with what I've made for myself. I'd been dreaming of my own business for months, years even before you took the business. Something to do with clothes. Electronics and aviation and all that metal stuff was never my passion. So in a way, you taking it over was the best thing that ever happened to me. Plus, the stipend you gave me got the whole thing started." Pouring herself another glass, she chuckled to herself, untroubled, although after she'd sipped from the glass she turned a serious, questioning gaze on Emma. "You don't regret anything, do you?"

"I play the game of consequences," said Emma and her voice was suddenly as hard as iron. "Regret means you make the same mistakes twice and all that does is get you killed." She stared at the glass of cognac in her hand for a moment and her voice softened again. "But I still miss Christian. And my Hellions. I played that game badly."

Adrienne nodded in aquiescence of Emma's acknoweledgment of the wisdom in her words about regrets. She drained her glass after hearing Emma speak about the Hellions. "Shaw's going to pay for that, Emma. We'll make him pay." She couldn't bring herself to pour another glass of cognac. "Is that why you do it? The White Queen thing? Is that why you need the power that it offers? To bring Shaw down?" It seemed as if she was on a roll now. "Do you go visit his grave? Christian, I mean? Do you ever go? I went once. After Steven died. They're in the same cemetery, you know. In Boston. I didn't want to go see Steven's grave, even though I'd arranged something lovely for him, just like the dutiful wife I always was. But I think I wanted to be... close to where he was, once. So I went to see Christian instead."

"If Shaw had killed my children, he wouldn't be Black King any more," said Emma quietly. "He lost control of Pearce. We both did. As for why I became the White Queen; because I was there. Because I could see what I could gain if I was Queen. Because power is intoxicating and nothing they could do to me was worse than what had already been done to me. Because Frost Enterprises was Winston's and I wanted something for my own that he had never been good enough to get." She shrugged. "I was young and had been mad for a long time, Adrienne, and I wanted to make sure no-one could ever have me in their power again. Now: now I do it because I'm damned good at it. Selene is at the bottom of the ocean and that alone is worth the price my Hellions paid. Keeping the Black Court from committing the worst excesses they can dredge out of their depraved imaginations is - necessary. They prey on their own kind. And believe me when I say that you are lucky you don't get to know what their imaginations come up with. I do have to say, though," and suddenly her voice was a purr, "the special parties are fabulous. Depravity has its uses." She contemplated her cognac for a moment, swirling it in its glass before downing it. "Every year. On his birthday," she said, very very softly.

"You are good at it," Adrienne acknowledged, tipping her glass towards Emma in a toast. It was hard for her to admit, damned hard, even knowing that she didn't want to run the Hellfire Club herself, but they were here to celebrate Emma's birthday and saying something nice was the least she could do. "And I want to help you keep doing what you're good at, keep the Black Court from committing those excesses." She gave Emma a smirk in response to her mention of the special parties. "I think I'd rather throw special parties with people I've invited, not people who are permitted to attend because they have a hereditary claim to be there." She left the subject of Christian alone, sensing that she'd touched a nerve and not wishing to stir up any further sadness in her sister. "Although I have heard stories about a special mirrored room in the Hellfire Club mansion that I do admit sounds intriguing," she grinned.

"Jealous are you, little sister?" said Emma, raising an eyebrow. She reached for the cognac bottle, filling her glass and draining it dry. When she lowered the glass, she was serious again, her voice gentle but almost ominous. "Don't come inside," said Emma. "Ask Amanda what they can want you to do to be on the inside. Stay safe on the outside, Adrienne. Stay my enemy. Stay safe. It's all I've ever tried to do. Protect you from the monsters." Emma closed her eyes for a moment, then reached for the cognac bottle again.

"I know what they want me to do to be on the inside," Adrienne answered slowly, suddenly very uncomfortable with this whole conversation. "I have no intention of doing it. I'm happy on the outside, Emma. I can't do what you've done, I can't be you, and I'm alright with that now." She had a fleeting thought of going over to her sister's chair and sitting with her in an attempt at some form of comfort, but she quashed it, unsure of what Emma's reaction would be. If their positions were reversed Adrienne would most likely take a hug as pity, a patronizing gesture. She didn't want Emma to think that, chance jeopardizing what they were just beginning to rebuild between them.

So she held her glass out for Emma to refill it as she thought about how to respond to her sister's last lines. Part of her, the proud, stubborn part, wanted to inform Emma that she didn't need to be protected. The tiny part of her, fed by alcohol, the part still bitter over her childhood and her marriage wanted to tell Emma that she'd failed, shout some sarcastic remark like 'thanks for nothing'. Instead of giving in to her sloppy impulses, however, she thought about how she really felt, what she knew to be true, and nodded. It came out in a whisper, but it was sincere. "I know you did, Em." A small smile turned up one corner of her mouth. "You and Christian. You tried." And in a way, she had done it. It had been Emma who had put Winston in the asylum, after all, broken the first of her monsters in such a way that Adrienne felt no fear or even anger towards him anymore, and Emma had told her about Xavier's, setting into motion the events that had led Adrienne to confronting her other monster.


The cake was all gone, but Adrienne stared thoughtfully at the empty plate. "I enjoy acting like your enemy, in public, but I don't think I can stay your enemy for real anymore."

"I'd hope not," said Emma and suddenly laughed. "They have a bad habit of turning up dead. Or deranged. Or locked in a box on the bottom of the ocean. Or with some extremely unfortunate and quite permanent personal habits." Emma looked down at the glass in her hand. "I think I've had too much to drink," she said. She was silent for a moment. "I never thought of you as my enemy, Adrienne. We're not a very good family, you know. And I'm not a very good sister. I don't do slumber parties and try on hats and talk about my feelings. But you were never my enemy."


Adrienne found herself giggling at the idea of Emma at a slumber party trying on hats. "You clearly haven't if you are able to think you've had too much. And hey! I think we're as good a family as we have any right to be," she protested, pride demanding it. Emma's line about any of them surviving being a triumph had stayed with her. "Now, we are, anyway." She shrugged. "You're not a bad sister. There's always Cordelia, after all. We were never really hat people anyway, were we? An' I'm glad I was never your enemy, although I think maybe there's an insult about me not being on your radar big enough to warrant it hiding in there somewhere." Was she still making sense? It had been a sort of a joke anyway. "I'd be lying if I said you weren't mine, and there's no point lying cuz you can read my brain anyway. Maybe not enemy. More like competition. But that was a lonnnnnng time ago. All that's over now. Please don't lock me in a box unless I have Sportsnet, some brownies, and either Morgan or Garrison Kane to keep me amused. Preferably both?"

"I was locked in a box with a shapeshifter once," mused Emma. "It was - extraordinary. The things she could do. Or he could do. I don't think I ever worked out what gender was the original. And when it had finished doing all the things it could think of, I showed it what someone with actual imagination can do. It actually turned into a puddle by the time I was done." She leaned back in her chair and smiled. "So maybe not hats, but do you really want to know about the room made of mirrors?"


"If there's a shapeshifter in a story about the mirror room, please, yes. Yes I do," Adrienne nodded emphatically, putting her empty glass down and settling back in her chair in anticipation.