Jean, Emma, and Rachel - Spa Treatment (Backdated)

[x-jeangrey.livejournal.com]

Jean, Emma, and Rachel spend some time in a spa following their ordeal on the astral plane .



"I'm not sure they'd appreciate the reference on TripAdvisor, but I'd certainly recommend the amethyst crystal steam room for recovering from attack from mind parasites," said Emma, reclining in exactly that room. Her eyes were closed, her white towel luxuriously thick and comfortable underneath her and the gently scented steam cocooned her in warmth.

Jean ran her fingers across the soft fabric of her towel, inhaling the scent of the fabric softener as it mingled over that of lavender and other essential oils designed to melt all your cares away. She lay on one of the benches, staring up at the crystal lined ceiling she tried to turn her brain off. But since they had the entire spa to themselves, thanks to Emma, that was easier to do. Finally, she tried to close her eyes and just let the steam wash over her.

"I don't remember the last time I've been to a spa. Except for when Warren tried to get me to come during one of his mani-pedis. But so far this has been great, thank you."

"I'm coming to look for you after every trauma," the third and final occupant of the room decided from where she lay, carelessly sprawled across her seat and idly tracing patterns into a well-oiled thigh in time with the sleep-inducing music. Because trauma was a thing that happened on the regular, obviously. And while a day of indulging in luxurious extravagance had not quite been the activity she had assumed they might undertake when seeking refuge with Emma away from Charles, his school and its occupants, Rachel now knew better.

Her masseuse had had a hard time coaxing Rachel's shoulders down from where they seemed permanently welded about her ears -- letting a stranger touch you while you lay prone, naked and vulnerable was hard okay? -- but they now lay flushed against the bench. The epitome if boneless relaxation. "I think they massaged away my spine."

Emma made a rippling movement that would have been a shrug if she hadn't been equally bonelessly supine on her towel. "I'm a good little well-trained telepath," she said. "Get attacked by mind parasites and save the empaths and I dutifully eat lots of calories, take all the right painkillers, stay in The Box for a while, visit the medlab and let them check my vitals. Which is all well and good, but it doesn't get rid of that little knot that you get right in between your shoulder blades. That's what money, steam, warm towels and trained masseuses are for. And it's not like I can't afford it."

She shrugged again, a sensuous wriggle of her shoulder blades. "I think the knot's nearly gone. How's your headache, Jean? And how was the foot massage? I've heard that Grigor is very good at feet."

Jean laughed. "More than just good. I'm pretty sure he's got a superhuman ability," she mused, then nodded.

"And the headache's getting there. Better than before, especially with a generous amount of aspirin. I'm about to do the full body massage after this. Four sets of hands sounds...impressive. But there has to be some way I can pay you back for all this to show my appreciation."

"I keep asking NASA to name a constellation after me, but they'll only let me have a star," said Emma and sent the briefest mental image of her pouting furiously. "If you could think of a way that I can have my own constellation, that would do nicely. Though I'm still not entirely sure whether I want it called Emma Frost The Radiant And Benevolent or just The White Queen Shines Gloriously In The Heavens. I wouldn't want to be too pretentious."

"The White Queen one does have a certain air to it,” Rachel opined. “But you’d have to share it with past and future White Queens. And it kinda sounds like a white supremacy thing when taken out of context. Which is always fun. Can’t you buy all the stars in a constellation? Or should I hack into NASA?”

"You can actually own a star? Wow," Jean said, re-positioning herself so she could lay out properly.

"If you want a flower named after you I can probably put you in touch with the right people but stars are out of my wheelhouse."

"I don't want to own a star, just have it named after me. And there's plenty of people you can pay to name a star after you, but it's just not the same as having a whole constellation named after me. I mean Cassiopeia has that and all she did was tell the gods she was prettier than them. I'm perfectly willing to do that. I'm sure you'd both back me up if I told Thor that I was prettier than him, wouldn't you? I'm willing to do it to his face and everything." Emma's voice held the slightest hint of a plea.

"His musculature is perfect, but you win on the pretty front." Rachel rolled over with some effort to lie on her front, pillowing her head in her arms as though preparing for a nap.

Jean stared up at the ceiling with a smirk. "I agree, but I wouldn't mind him showing me Asgard sometime," she said. She paused, realizing she'd said that aloud, then shrugged, sitting up and giving herself a stretch.

"Anyway, I think it's about time for my full-body massage. I'll see you guys later."

"Good timing," replied Emma, smiling. "I was just about to start singing the Jean and Thor, sitting in a tree song." She also stretched then stood up, a sinuous movement.

"And I think it's time for something involving yoga, warm oils and being encrusted in salt, which will either end with me feeling wonderful or slightly overcooked. I'm hoping for wonderful."

"Go, go. Leave me to my melting." Rachel had something arranged for after the steam room but the nice ladies had promised to come get her when it was time. Moving required too much effort, and the redhead groaned appreciatively when Jean opened the door and cool air briefly filtered through. "May you become two giant puddles of constellation and fire."