─── ✶⋅ WHO ARE WE ⋅✶ ──

as much as she’d rather not step into yet another metaphorical warfare with the blonde at the late hour, jeanne-marie doesn’t feel entirely certain about slipping into bed when the chances of trespassing into emma’s personal space is still too high for her to risk it, and so, even if it’s to no avail, aurora will try again, via grumbling:

the television mounted in the corner of the cafe droned on about heroism, bravery, and another successful intervention courtesy of america's favorite superheroes. lorna barely looked up from the mug in her hands, only chesnut hair was visible beneath the ballcap that she wore to cover her green roots. "that's not what happened."

the words slipped out a tad bit louder than she intended. a few heads turned briefly before returning to their breakfasts and laptops, hopefully dismissing her as another cynic with too much coffee and too little sleep. even better, perhaps they did not hear her words entirely.

brown eyes, flecked with hues of green, lingered on the news report anyway. carefully edited footage. polished statements. smiling faces standing in front of destruction someone else would clean up later. it was a cover up, again.

her fingers tightened slightly around the ceramic mug before she forced them to relax. she lifted the mug to her lips to take a sip of the bittersweet liquid within, only then did she realize she wasn't alone anymore.

a sigh, she doesn’t elaborate why it’d be a bad idea for her, a mentally unstable superheroine with a polarising backstory handling a critical mission, to do away with her privacy and the safety of waving away questions that could very well probe for sensitive, confidential information. aurora can handle being a part of important teams as well as being a superheroine, but the social rewards are not what she’s here to reap.

"It was merely a duty I had done for the good of mankind; we have one too many issues with cults ruining the world. And as much as I would love to go back in time to prevent a certain religion's rise to power, another could do the same thing and alter our timeline."

"Because, my precious gem, I think it's rather fitting. I think of you and the inner world of my mind is coloured in vibrant strokes of green and purple -- purple being a bold, loyal colour, and green being the peace and.. safety. My thoughts of you are shaped like stars, and, what is a star if not a far away gem that exists to serve as a reminder that there is always more out there. And finally, fluorite as a crystal is known for it's aid in mental clarity, so.. you are my fluorite."

With that, the diamond withdraws from the speedsters mind, leaving her to sit with that... touching revelation. It wasn't often the diamond used her words to express her adoration, but when she did, she certainly didn't do it half assed--

"I understand you're itching to get me alone," she teases, acknowledging the next question, "But I really did come here for the runway. It's important to see how a piece sits on a living body -- how it behaves, how it moves, the reactions it gains from surrounding eyes. That, and I enjoy watching the models themselves."

For a moment, Emma assumes that's all Jeanne-Marie has to say -- only to be swiftly corrected as the combination of the speedsters soft lips and teasing fingertips bring a deep, dizzying flush to her cheeks. She doesn't dare turn her head, crystalline blues doing their best to stay facing forward, though she cannot control the way her heart flutters in her chest, or the way her teeth capture her bottom lip to restrain herself.

It was a challenge, and EMMA FROST loved to win. By the end of their day together, the blonde would have a different answer, and she would be satisfied.. but for now..

A stray thought finds it's way into Aurora's mind -- purposeful or not (it absolutely was) it definitely belonged there --

and — ‘oh!’ — she supposes she’s okay with emma having access to her inner world, too.

‘bonjour to you too.’

more than okay, as a matter of fact; radiance washes over the brunette’s face as emma’s poetic message becomes one with jeanne-marie’s thoughts, and — she truly is an old-fashioned lover, for poetry is more than enough to send aurora’s heart skipping several beats and down the avenue already. god, if only emma had been this charismatic earlier—

‘very well, your way with words has ... surpassed my expectations, i did not know you were capable of being this ... sweet.’

— then aurora may have already jumped her bones, but that’s neither here nor there.

deep breaths. still an hour left of this show.

good thing the telepath doesn’t overstay her welcome — or more aptly, overdoes her entrance into aurora’s mind, it’s better if they take it slow, only time can tell how much of it jeanne-marie can take these psionic conversations at a time without getting overwhelmed, or worse.

“ah,” yet another sophisticated answer from the blonde; aurora isn’t one to dismiss an entire field just because it’s not her personal interest, but it is admirable when people’s passions go beyond the surface level – and she appreciates gaining an alternate perspective on the modelling industry from someone who truly gets it. “right, yeah, that makes sense. what do you make of it so far, then?”

with this in mind, jeanne-marie will make sure not to distract the blonde too much from the show ahead of them — but a little teasing harms nobody.

“none of that,” she whispers, her free hand showing up to help free emma’s lower lip, absolutely replicating the blonde’s move from earlier on purpose – and then the brunette immediately retracts and returns to her space, though she lets emma continue to have her hand the way she pleases. “remember?”

two can absolutely play this game very well.

Satisfied with Aurora's hand now resting on her thigh, the diamond allows herself a private sigh of relief. A small part of her had anticipated the speedster pulling away from her, reaching her limit with Emma's antics and rejecting all other advances -- so, in other words, this was nice.

Outfit after outfit is walked up and down the runway, the models dressed in not only fancy garments, but a graceful silence -- which the diamond is very much grateful for. She isn't quite sure how much more obnoxious chatter she can take before the need to stand up and walk away would claim her, but she's certain it isn't much. Fidgeting fingers trace restless patterns against the back of the speedsters hand, doing fairly well to hold the blonde together -- that is, of course, until Jeanne-Marie asks the question outright.

Are you okay?

The fidgeting stops, fingers choosing to grip the luminary's hand just a little tighter instead whilst she lies through her teeth.

"I'm fine," is the answer she goes with, presumably to avoid being so open in a place full of--

"People," the diamond reluctantly continues, offering a slight bit of honesty as her eyes flit around the room for a brief moment before returning to the runway, "I meant it when I said you were the only person I could stand to see."

On top of the people around her, there lies another problem -- this is a very confined space. A private room packed full of people and chairs, the only space left being the runway itself. Every exit had been mentally mapped prior to the diamond taking her seat, which had been strategically chosen for her own comfort, but still.. the feeling of being trapped still looms.

"I'll be glad to get out of here and get some air."

After her soft display of affection, the blonde can feel a certain pair of blueish-greenish eyes fixing on her, and her grip on the hand belonging to those eyes finally relaxes. Aurora's attention was all hers now, and, as a gift in return for such a precious thing, the diamond smiles. Properly this time, not just a little up or downturn of a corner -- EMMA FROST is smiling, and the dimples in her cheeks reveal themselves as if they were buried treasures hidden away from the world.

something playful tugs at the corners of her lip, as she finds herself now fully enjoying emma toying with her hand, as well as the fact that amid all of the people here —

aurora is the one who gets to be this up and close with emma, gets to touch her without the shield of clothes or crystals in the way. speaking of — “so, why fluorite? you don’t seem like you care about metallurgy, ma mie.”

she expects emma to leave it at just those two words, but when the explanation comes, succinct and carefully phrased yet brutally honest, jeanne-marie is hardly surprised —

“i understand... it is claustrophobic here.”

she absolutely gets it. this crowd has been the very reason why jeanne-marie didn’t want to come inside at all in the first place, she’s only here because she trusts emma to mean it when she says she’ll take care of her — and that, letting emma down is a task that gets harder and harder by the day.

so then comes the billion dollar question: “why don’t we get out of here, then? you certainly have a lot more invitations lined up for you, and you wouldn’t be losing much by making blind purchases; not like you could ever have a bad fashion day – unless you are really here to watch the runway?”

not a single word of those is shallow flattery, by now jeanne-marie has become accustomed to the exorbitant sort of lifestyle lady frost maintains. she is rich enough to buy all she wants and not have buyer’s remorse; she is beautiful inside and out, that what she wears hardly matters so long she’s there. no reason to take all these unnecessary pressure in that context.

so it is nice to see the other woman finally crack a bright and unabashed smile, the one that reveals her dimples that aurora is delighted to see and take note of — mentally, for now, she’ll just appreciate the view without commentary ... while filing away dangerously sweet information for later opportunities.

now it is jeanne-marie’s turn to lean in, closer than necessary, to whisper into her companion’s ear:

In this setting, the diamond's eyes are even more critical of anyone who dares come close to her -- her image would not be tainted by people who were absolutely beneath her on this fashionable food chain -- but said critical eyes find nothing out of place on Miss Beaubier. Nothing at all.

And this pleases Emma greatly.

"An hour," the blonde answers, instinctively taking Jeanne-Marie's hand in hers, pulling it over to her lap to begin the circular ministrations with her thumb. It seemed Emma, too, needed a distraction from the people around her. Of course, visually, the garments walked up and down the runway would stimulate her -- but what were her hands supposed to do? The people around her were dressed in such a way that could only be described as loud -- tacky, even. And Emma didn't do tacky. It would've also been unwise to pull out her flask at such an event, so Aurora's hand would have to do..

"And then you are free to do as you please -- after taking us home, of course."

Watching the speedster cover her face with her free hand to hide from a potential Jean-Paul pulls a fond chuckle from the blonde's lips, and her grip on her companions hand tightens just a little. "Darling, you're fine. If being noticed would bother you so much, I could fix it before anything has a chance to be said. But, with that said.."

Pausing dramatically, Emma leans over, speaking directly into the speedsters ear just as she had before, "You don't need to know anyone but me here, so don't you worry your pretty little head about it." Punctuating the word pretty by nudging the tip of her nose against Jeanne-Marie's cheek, Emma then pulls away as if she hadn't done anything at all, the sharpness in her gaze returning as she studies the next garment worn on the runway.

the specialised nickname, the way emma surveys her with thorough attention, and the way she simply takes aurora’s hand in hers and pulls it closer; too close for comfort, too close for either of them to assume this is simply platonic hand-holding.

and so, aurora allows her to relax a little from her constant nerves and feelings of self-consciousness — just enough to let her fingers unclench, and allow herself to rest her palm flat on emma’s thigh. nothing more than that, of course, it would be unwarranted — but she figures she might as well return some of the warmth of their close contact ... and allow emma to do whatever it is that she’s doing, tracing patterns over the back of aurora’s hand almost ... restlessly, like it’s a fidget toy.

“are you okay?” she asks, making sure it’s a quiet, almost inaudible whisper. she knows better than to ask the white queen that at such a grand event, but jeanne-marie can’t help it. “pardon, but you seemed way happier at the bar the other day. you’re not enjoying yourself as much here as i would’ve thought. but i may be mistaken, so — apologies.”

before jeanne-marie can even ask what the blonde’s idea of ‘fixing it’ would entail, emma takes her by surprise once more when she leans in to murmur huskily into the brunette’s ear, which immediately sends chills down aurora's spine – as well as sends warm blood surging throughout her body, making her feel flushed with warmth despite the venue’s air-conditioning.

and jeanne-marie’s retort is rudely stolen when emma brushes her nose against her face, akin to the manner of an affectionate cat, which – unlike all the charged moments of their interactions so far – succeeds to take aurora’s breath away, momentarily.

when the blonde pulls back and resumes surveiling the show, jeanne-marie turns to look at her instead, her face lit up with amused exasperation – and a total disregard for the world outside of emma grace frost, anybody or anything that’s not her.

"Ah ah, none of that." She murmurs, gently prying Aurora's bottom lip free with the pad of her thumb. The nerves were understood, this was Emma's world and she had invited poor Jeanne-Marie with no real time for preparation -- but, as this was Emma's world, she would do everything to make sure it turned in favour of the speedster tonight, and that started with accepting her compromise.

In her own way.

"You had better come back fast," a quiet tease, her thumb tracing along Aurora's lip, "You don't want to make me miss you, do you?"

And, just because she can't resist, the blonde's hand shifts, thumb and pointer finger now holding either side of the luminary's jaw, carefully drawing her closer, until the space between them is nothing but shared breath.

Crystalline blues now shamelessly stare at the curves of the other's darkened lips, a silent question of 'what do they taste like' dancing through the mind behind them. If she was anyone else, she'd be thankful that Jeanne-Marie is not a telepath, and therefore cannot hear her thoughts -- however, something inside her craves the reaction they would draw out. Would those charming ears turn pink at the tips? Would her breath catch, followed by the parting of those devilishly tempting lips in surprise? Who was to say -- Emma certainly wasn't going to give those thoughts up just yet, so instead..

"I don't like missing you."

not in the sense of disappearance; there is no scope to escape physically or otherwise, when at this very moment, emma frost commands every part of her, like she’s the centerfold of aurora’s mind, gaze, and focus.

can’t turn away. can’t turn down the blonde’s fingers getting too comfortable with maneuvering jeanne-marie’s face just like that. can’t just put emma down without being hasty and cowardly about it, there is no scope for evasion or escape, her only option is to face the enchanting woman in her arms upfront.

“emma...” the rest of that retort dies down in her throat as the blonde’s hand starts having its way with aurora’s visage, especially when the brunette doesn’t know if it’s more overwhelming to look at the culpable, magnetic hand in question or emma herself. her gaze falls down on the latter, widened eyes following every movement that occurs — from freeing her own lower lips to tilting her head closer by the jaw.

is she going to—? please, god, yes.

“this is excessive,” she manages once she lets out a breath she hadn’t realised she has been holding rather intensely for so long, as though as she were underwater. “you already have my attention, now this is–” a pause is forced as she purses her lower lip to lick it; why does her mouth feel so dry? “–desperate, f*#& — whatever, brace yourself.”

once emma is back on her feet again, aurora brushes off imaginary dust off her suit as she finally gets a break from the fervour of emma’s eyes and touch, allowing the luminous speedster to gain composure.

“get to your darn show now,” she replies, her tone resuming its usual defiance as jeanne-marie starts to fly off and complete her end of the compromise. “any further ado and they’ll probably move on to the autumn collection without you.”

then of course emma frost has to get the last few words in; she even manages to impudently equate herself in importance to the beaubier lineage, which in of itself would’ve resulted in aurora turning back around and irately picking a fight with her —

— instead, aurora just sighs loudly as she continues to fly off without looking back; the sooner she gets this over with, the faster she can get to bed.

“yes, ‘your highness’,” not a compliment, because – “do not forget what happens to the elites in france.”

“hello,” jeanne-marie says in a low voice as she slips into the unoccupied seat next to emma, already skipping to the heart of the matter: “how long is the show for?”

true to her words, aurora has cleaned up well, something she doesn’t mind exactly — ‘cause getting dolled up and slipping into heels and a cocktail gown with a halter cut doesn’t make her any less of the graceful, irritable, resolute paradox she is. if anybody else talks to her, the sharp heels of her t-straps can function just fine as a substitute for a knife, regardless of whether it’s for herself or otherwise.

“listen, i’ve had a terribly long day today, and—” she continues to whisper furiously to emma, her impatience growing by the second. “let’s just say caffeine and superspeed do not go well,” or, conversely, too well, really. tonight’s not the time to accidentally explode half of the world by accidentally outrunning light itself. “so there’s only so long i can keep my eyes open for this without nodding off.”

“the aura of this room alone — or the lack thereof — is boring me, frankly. i don’t know what jean-paul finds so fascinating about this,” speak of the devil — the moment jeanne-marie catches the sight of a suited man with salt-and-paper hair, she instantly shields her face with one hand as her hair falls down upon her face briefly, then bravely peers through her fingers for a more careful look – and lets out a sigh in relief.