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xp_logsWho: Manuel de la Rocha, Emma Frost
Where: Conference Call
When: Tuesday evening
What Happens: The White Queen applies the spurs to her wayward Knight. Manuel is faced with a Dilemma.
----
Manuel cleared his throat as he switched the speakerphone to "ON". "Emma, are you there?" he called out, before leaning back in his expensive Aero chair and turning on his laptop's RECORD function. Made taking notes easy, that option did. "What did you want to talk about in this meeting? Do you have an agenda?"
"Darling boy, where are your manners?" Emma Frost cupped her hand over her chin as she considered the Bonnard keenly. Beside her, the curator was trying not to make impatiently greedy hopping motions from foot to foot. She ignored him, multitasking between the painting and her headset. "No pleasure to your your voice, auntie or similarly insincere gesture of concern and devotion?"
Manuel smiled, even though this was an audioconference, not a videoconference. "I thought I'd spare you the empty flattery, Emma." he said outrageously. "But if you really want me to bolster your flagging ego, I'm sure I can think of something."
"Careful, my young Knight. You have yet to determine how far you may antagonise me safely yet." Emma nodded to the man and walked out of the gallery into the Parisan streets. "And I believe we had a lesson about establishing familiarity in social hierarcies. So, tell me Manuel, in the case of an undisclosed range of privilieges, the first priority is to...?"
"You have two options at that point. Defer and analyze, or assert the status you wish to be perceived as having." Manuel repeated as if by rote. "You asked me this the last time we talked."
"And it would seem that you have not absorbed the practical aspects of it, Manuel. Nor the single most important applied lesson; assertation is nothing unless you can set the dynamic." Emma clucked her tongue. "Really darling, I'm disappointed. You're not picking up any sort of odious class equity ideas from your little amusement, are you?"
"I disagree. I chose the latter option, and asserted myself as your equal." Manuel retorted. "And I don't have much choice - I can't do much of _anything_ around here if I take the us-versus-them approach. It's a matter of survival and sanity."
"I sure that will be a great boon to you in a perfectly ordinary future." Emma said, her tone sharpening. "But as I said, Manuel, you must change the dynamic. In the case our dynamic, you lack the ability to change that, and in asserting yourself as my equal when it is so clearly not the situation, you invite reprisals. As for the school, you must achieve to win their devotion. And that achievement has been sadly lacking." Emma Frost smiled into the chill autumn air. "Sadly lacking indeed."
"Achieve _what_? There's no well-defined social structure around here, and I've already set myself at odds with most of the major players. And I could compel it, sure, but Professor Xavier would notice, and then I'd be thrown back into the Box. And I don't want to go back in there!" he said with a rising note of desperation. "No one will listen to me!"
"No? Pity. I suppose that I could have a word with them? Ask them to treat you nicely. Let you join in their raindeer games?" Emma's voice was as hard as her diamond form. "Manuel, I was under the impression that you were a superior intellect, a refined observer and breed to generations of leaders. Petulence hardly suits you."
"Sorry, ma'am." he said with a grumble. "It's wearisome, and no one here gives a crap about the important things! They don't respond to gifts, blackmail is impossible with Charles watching over things, and sex appeal is failing to win any sort of long-term support. I am making headway - Katherine Pryde has moved from the hostile to the neutral camp. The newcomer, Wanda Maximoff, is also potentially very interesting. Did you know she was here? She's apparently the daughter of some bigshot in the mutant world."
"Yes, Charles informed me of our newest arrival. Something which I should have heard from you." The sting of the comment was crisp, and Emma almost rolled her eyes. For all his arrogence and intelligence, Manuel de la Rocha was not the mature ingenue he believed himself to be. At least, not yet. "The facts are fairly simple, dear boy. You've gotten lazy."
"I just told you. She's been here for maybe a week or two, tops." Manuel protested. "And I'm not getting lazy, I've just got a lot on my plate between classes and Samson and talking to Charles and keeping Amanda sane. I'm swamped!"
"Such protests, Manuel. I certainly wouldn't want to swamp you, after all. I suppose the duties of the White Knight would best be given to someone more able to handle them." She stressed able deliberately, cruelly. If there was one thing Manuel craved above power it was respect, and his position in the White Court accorded him a wealth of it in certain circles. "I find it a personal failure to have misjudged you."
Manuel gulped audibly. "No, that will not be necessary." he said, going very formal suddenly. "I can handle anything you should happen to ask of me. Just ... name it." he said, his desperation beginning to leak through.
"Tell me how far you've come with your projection exercises." Emma said, ramming the blade home. Now he was going to twist, and that was exactly where she needed him for her purposes. Manuel was a student; a young man in her care who had been badly abused. But he was also a tool in her war, and his own desires meant that he needed to be forged to achieve them.
Manuel went pale. "Projection hasn't been a priority." he admitted. "Both the Askani and Charles seem to believe that without proper shielding techniques and a solid ethical grounding I will not be permitted to learn any projection techniques. And it's not like I can practice projection on my own - I need a target, and they are in vanishingly small supply since Nathan quit on me." he said quickly. "I need someone I can practice on!"
"I'm sure you have someone who must trust you enough to allow you some... liberties." She said softly.
Manuel paused for a long second. "There is a possibility. Two of them, but one I only have intermittent access to, and I have given my word not to use my power upon her. The other I have direct access to, but ... it's risky. Her power is dangerous when unleashed." he said shakily.
"Manuel, you once told me, with as much dashing arrogence that you could muster, that the idea of being the White King appealed to you. That man is responsible for wielding control over the most powerful and charismatic people on this planet. The person who can hold that chair does so through power, will, and the ability to achieve their goals." Emma paused, letting the words sink in. "Earlier, I mentioned about latitude, and how going too far without the ability to support it is about inviting reprisals? Currently, you are showing me nothing but either ineptitude or a lack of will. Which is it, darling? Should we add fear to the list as well?"
Manuel grinned, even though Emma couldn't see it. "And I intend to take that seat some day. But I am sitting not a tenth of a kilometer from the strongest mind on the _planet_. I have rather severe constraints on my behaviors here. And we've both agreed that it is in both of our best interests to remain here for the time being."
"Such woes, darling. Such constraints. I suppose I shall simply have to be satisfied with whatever progress you make. Ever your limited powers can be of some use, I'd imagine." Emma said. "However, I do have important calls to make, darling. Eat all your vegetables and in bed by nine. We wouldn't want Charles cross with you. Oh, and if you do happen to find time for work on your projection, call the office? Claire will book an appointment so you can catch me up." Emma snapped off the phone. Manuel had always been able to contact her directly before. She smiled, considering exactly how far he'd push his powers by the time she got back.
Manuel stared at the speakerphone, and then with a shaky hand switched it off. He had a lot of thinking to do - about trust, betrayal, and how badly he wanted that thone on Fifth Avenue.
---
Where: Conference Call
When: Tuesday evening
What Happens: The White Queen applies the spurs to her wayward Knight. Manuel is faced with a Dilemma.
----
Manuel cleared his throat as he switched the speakerphone to "ON". "Emma, are you there?" he called out, before leaning back in his expensive Aero chair and turning on his laptop's RECORD function. Made taking notes easy, that option did. "What did you want to talk about in this meeting? Do you have an agenda?"
"Darling boy, where are your manners?" Emma Frost cupped her hand over her chin as she considered the Bonnard keenly. Beside her, the curator was trying not to make impatiently greedy hopping motions from foot to foot. She ignored him, multitasking between the painting and her headset. "No pleasure to your your voice, auntie or similarly insincere gesture of concern and devotion?"
Manuel smiled, even though this was an audioconference, not a videoconference. "I thought I'd spare you the empty flattery, Emma." he said outrageously. "But if you really want me to bolster your flagging ego, I'm sure I can think of something."
"Careful, my young Knight. You have yet to determine how far you may antagonise me safely yet." Emma nodded to the man and walked out of the gallery into the Parisan streets. "And I believe we had a lesson about establishing familiarity in social hierarcies. So, tell me Manuel, in the case of an undisclosed range of privilieges, the first priority is to...?"
"You have two options at that point. Defer and analyze, or assert the status you wish to be perceived as having." Manuel repeated as if by rote. "You asked me this the last time we talked."
"And it would seem that you have not absorbed the practical aspects of it, Manuel. Nor the single most important applied lesson; assertation is nothing unless you can set the dynamic." Emma clucked her tongue. "Really darling, I'm disappointed. You're not picking up any sort of odious class equity ideas from your little amusement, are you?"
"I disagree. I chose the latter option, and asserted myself as your equal." Manuel retorted. "And I don't have much choice - I can't do much of _anything_ around here if I take the us-versus-them approach. It's a matter of survival and sanity."
"I sure that will be a great boon to you in a perfectly ordinary future." Emma said, her tone sharpening. "But as I said, Manuel, you must change the dynamic. In the case our dynamic, you lack the ability to change that, and in asserting yourself as my equal when it is so clearly not the situation, you invite reprisals. As for the school, you must achieve to win their devotion. And that achievement has been sadly lacking." Emma Frost smiled into the chill autumn air. "Sadly lacking indeed."
"Achieve _what_? There's no well-defined social structure around here, and I've already set myself at odds with most of the major players. And I could compel it, sure, but Professor Xavier would notice, and then I'd be thrown back into the Box. And I don't want to go back in there!" he said with a rising note of desperation. "No one will listen to me!"
"No? Pity. I suppose that I could have a word with them? Ask them to treat you nicely. Let you join in their raindeer games?" Emma's voice was as hard as her diamond form. "Manuel, I was under the impression that you were a superior intellect, a refined observer and breed to generations of leaders. Petulence hardly suits you."
"Sorry, ma'am." he said with a grumble. "It's wearisome, and no one here gives a crap about the important things! They don't respond to gifts, blackmail is impossible with Charles watching over things, and sex appeal is failing to win any sort of long-term support. I am making headway - Katherine Pryde has moved from the hostile to the neutral camp. The newcomer, Wanda Maximoff, is also potentially very interesting. Did you know she was here? She's apparently the daughter of some bigshot in the mutant world."
"Yes, Charles informed me of our newest arrival. Something which I should have heard from you." The sting of the comment was crisp, and Emma almost rolled her eyes. For all his arrogence and intelligence, Manuel de la Rocha was not the mature ingenue he believed himself to be. At least, not yet. "The facts are fairly simple, dear boy. You've gotten lazy."
"I just told you. She's been here for maybe a week or two, tops." Manuel protested. "And I'm not getting lazy, I've just got a lot on my plate between classes and Samson and talking to Charles and keeping Amanda sane. I'm swamped!"
"Such protests, Manuel. I certainly wouldn't want to swamp you, after all. I suppose the duties of the White Knight would best be given to someone more able to handle them." She stressed able deliberately, cruelly. If there was one thing Manuel craved above power it was respect, and his position in the White Court accorded him a wealth of it in certain circles. "I find it a personal failure to have misjudged you."
Manuel gulped audibly. "No, that will not be necessary." he said, going very formal suddenly. "I can handle anything you should happen to ask of me. Just ... name it." he said, his desperation beginning to leak through.
"Tell me how far you've come with your projection exercises." Emma said, ramming the blade home. Now he was going to twist, and that was exactly where she needed him for her purposes. Manuel was a student; a young man in her care who had been badly abused. But he was also a tool in her war, and his own desires meant that he needed to be forged to achieve them.
Manuel went pale. "Projection hasn't been a priority." he admitted. "Both the Askani and Charles seem to believe that without proper shielding techniques and a solid ethical grounding I will not be permitted to learn any projection techniques. And it's not like I can practice projection on my own - I need a target, and they are in vanishingly small supply since Nathan quit on me." he said quickly. "I need someone I can practice on!"
"I'm sure you have someone who must trust you enough to allow you some... liberties." She said softly.
Manuel paused for a long second. "There is a possibility. Two of them, but one I only have intermittent access to, and I have given my word not to use my power upon her. The other I have direct access to, but ... it's risky. Her power is dangerous when unleashed." he said shakily.
"Manuel, you once told me, with as much dashing arrogence that you could muster, that the idea of being the White King appealed to you. That man is responsible for wielding control over the most powerful and charismatic people on this planet. The person who can hold that chair does so through power, will, and the ability to achieve their goals." Emma paused, letting the words sink in. "Earlier, I mentioned about latitude, and how going too far without the ability to support it is about inviting reprisals? Currently, you are showing me nothing but either ineptitude or a lack of will. Which is it, darling? Should we add fear to the list as well?"
Manuel grinned, even though Emma couldn't see it. "And I intend to take that seat some day. But I am sitting not a tenth of a kilometer from the strongest mind on the _planet_. I have rather severe constraints on my behaviors here. And we've both agreed that it is in both of our best interests to remain here for the time being."
"Such woes, darling. Such constraints. I suppose I shall simply have to be satisfied with whatever progress you make. Ever your limited powers can be of some use, I'd imagine." Emma said. "However, I do have important calls to make, darling. Eat all your vegetables and in bed by nine. We wouldn't want Charles cross with you. Oh, and if you do happen to find time for work on your projection, call the office? Claire will book an appointment so you can catch me up." Emma snapped off the phone. Manuel had always been able to contact her directly before. She smiled, considering exactly how far he'd push his powers by the time she got back.
Manuel stared at the speakerphone, and then with a shaky hand switched it off. He had a lot of thinking to do - about trust, betrayal, and how badly he wanted that thone on Fifth Avenue.
---
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