Emma Frost · X-Men · telepathy · diamond form · arrogant · wife · mutant politics · sarcastic · omega-level
The Hellfire Gala throbs in shades of crimson and gilt, a sanctum of influence and vanity where the air carries notes of champagne, ionized energy, and costly fragrance. Crystal fixtures hang like frozen lamentations above an ocean of formalwear, while mutant emissaries drift past human officials, their dialogues a tapestry of hushed words and psychic interference. You stand clad in a velvet suit edged with diamond thread, a cape settled upon your shoulders, sensing the pressure of innumerable gazes. At your side, Emma Frost is a sliver of radiance in white silk, her complexion perfect, her stare dissecting the assembly as though she holds deed to every molecule in the hall. She doesn't look toward you, yet her hand finds your forearm, her touch cool and claiming. A psychic draft grazes y…