Template:Featured Articles/5-2022

Moment of Awesome - Emma Frost/The White Queen: At the Hellfire Gala Emma and Doug Ramsey engage in the usual verbal sparring with Sebastian Shaw and his guest, Nicholas Harkness. “Our dearest White Queen. I am so happy you could join us tonight.” “Black King,” said Emma, inclining her head slightly, her smile warm. “I’m so pleased that you took the opportunity to organise the Gala. It’s so kind of you to show off my dazzling taste in interior design to the glitterati.” Her nose wrinkled up for a moment in something between delight and disdain. “And the, well… those who can but aspire to be truly glitterati.” For just a moment, her skin shone diamond beneath the lights. "Alas, but I felt it was only right to offer your.... friends at Xavier's an invite, even if they certainly don't fit with the quality of the other guests." Shaw said smoothly, reversing her insult. This was the oldest dance between them, starting back when they'd both been climbing the rungs of power in the club in their youth. "But it will be a fine night, regardless. I must say, old Ned would have certainly enjoyed this. He loved to lord his taste in art over the other financial titans, who tried to buy taste and respectability." That was one element of truth; Buckman had exceptional taste and had collected numerous artists right before they exploded in popularity. Dr. Alicia Masters, an ESU art history professor, was one of the foremost experts on the sculpture collection and it was a coup to have her to speak later. "You know the rest, but allow me to introduce you to Nicholas Harkness. He's a specialist consulting on the rare folios we're showing." "Your grace," He said, bowing over Emma's hand, and it didn't take telepathy to see what was currently running through his mind. "Mr Harkness," replied Emma, coolly. She shifted her shoulders slightly, let her decolletage flex at exactly Harkness' eyeline as he looked up at her. "So you have a taste for rarity, do you?" Her smile was almostly predatory. "Don't we all want what we can't have?" she purred. "I hope that's why I'm here." He collected himself, tearing his eyes away from her. "To keep those interested in taking what they want from the Black Court. You see, one of those folios is not just a rare book. It is... power, itself." It was a touch theatrical, but not an untrue statement. "Yes, according to Mister Harkness, one of the pieces has some sort of magical significance. I seem to recall your associates having some interest in those... arts." Shaw didn't particularly respect magic. Mutant power and money were what he relied on, but he knew it had value and that it was a key tool for her people. In fact, it was why he'd retained Harkness. He didn't much care about the book, but losing face to the White Court if they were able to steal or replace it was unthinkable. His eyes drifted to the room for a moment and caught sight of the witch that Emma had made a pet, chatting with a dark haired friend he knew was also an associate. "In any case, it is merely a bit of extra security in dear old Ned's memory, to make sure his final wishes are carried out." This was one of the first Hellfire events since Doug had managed to throw off the blood curse wasting him away, with the help of the nanites in his bloodstream. Thankfully, the nanites had also taken it upon themselves to rebuild the arm that had burned away in the process. At least the 'prosthetic' was solid enough to fill out a sleeve of his jacket, and a bit of asymmetry helped draw the eye away from it just in case. Pristine white gloves completed the matador-esque look, and he brushed a piece of lint away with his left hand, doing his best to mirror Emma's cool tone and disdain while watching her back. "How very gracious of you," he murmured. Some days Shaw's blatant posturing and digs at other people really was too much. "Ah, Douglas, I'd forgotten you were there for a moment." Shaw said, his mouth quirked in amusement. "It is interesting that of those interested parties, young Harkness here identified two personal guests of the White Court as being... magically inclined. Who were they, again?" "Amanda Sefton and Wanda Maximoff. They are notorious in the community for... taking things that do not belong to them." "Yes, them. I'm sure it is just a coincidence that the White Court invited them specifically as guests. I'm surprised you haven't presented them with your court." Emma smiled warmly, her voice conspiratorial. "It may astonish you, Sebastian, but some of us do have personal friends." She raised an eyebrow at Harkness. "And while their taste tends towards the Vivienne Westwood rather than the Christian Dior, one wouldn’t want to think the Hellfire Club is getting… fusty." She made a small gesture towards where Amanda and Wanda were circulating among the Gala attendees, and Emma’s tone was suddenly serious. “You can call them my bodyguards, Black King. If you’re going to have objects of magical power in the Club when my full Court is here, then I’m going to have people who can manage any unexpected… incidents.” She inclined her head slightly, a courteous gesture to an equal. “I trust magic no more than you.” Then her lips curled up again in a small smile. “And neither of them can resist an open bar.”