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Who: Kitty Pryde and Emma Frost
When: 2021, before Emma's departure
Where: The Institute
What: Emma and Kitty say goodbye.
Warnings: Nope!
Leaving is bittersweet. It's Emma's choice, technically, but in a lot of ways it isn't - she can't go public without risking too much. So, she's leaving, off to a life she'd been thrown out of years ago. She's ready for this, ready to take decisive action with her father, take an active but shadowy role in a company that was never meant to be hers, and help her brother more directly than she has been in recent years. But she's not entirely ready to say goodbye, if she's being honest with herself.
She leaves in the morning, most of her things already packed up and shipped off. Sitting in the living room with a pour of neat whiskey and a book she's barely reading, she's trying to will herself out of feeling a little sad. Something like this was inevitable, after all.
It already seems too quiet in the mansion. Kitty had not originally given any pushback to the news of Emma’s imminent departure. It’s her choice. She knows it’s a little more complicated for some of them to go public than others, and Emma can’t. No more than Kitty could’ve changed her stance about wanting to go public in the first place, which she still doesn’t feel guilty for. Just a little sad that their former bustling home is fading away. So many of them are gone with second careers and school. Maybe it’s stubborn of her again, but Kitty can’t find it within herself to follow suit. So what if it’s a little lonely.
Leaves her a lot of time to float around the mansion like a displaced little ghost, at least. She’s also half reading a book that she has a partial intention to return somewhere in her tour of the manor. Instead, she happens upon the newest departure. “Oh, hi.” She says, not sounding thrilled entirely, “I thought you were gone already.”
(She didn’t. She did however have every intention of just letting Emma leave without a goodbye to leave the impression she does not care.)
The sound of Kitty's voice doesn't cause much of a reaction in Emma, even though it is a surprise. She hums, sips at her whiskey, turns a page, and still doesn't look up.
"That's tomorrow, darling - don't you have a calendar? And I haven't seen you all day." She sounds equally as blasé about the whole thing.
Kitty allows her body to gel back to tangibility so she can sit on an opposite armchair in abject imitation of the other young woman; she just doesn’t have the whiskey.
“Well you see, darling, my calendar actually has a lot more in it than you, is the problem.” The effect of the “darling” is a little lost when Kitty blows a raspberry after the word.
At the raspberry, Emma's eyes finally lift, a twinkle of amusement there even as her general expression remains even. Her mind reaches out to Kitty's, since the other girl is no longer inaccessible to her. She's going to miss her horribly.
"Filled with childish things? Coloring books? Swinging on monkey bars?" She sets aside her book and drink and gets to her feet, punctuating the action with a slow, luxurious stretch.
Kitty feels the familiar cool touch in her mind and goes intangible again defensively. She isn’t a child. If Emma’s going to be shitty she doesn’t need to see her brain. And Kitty certainly doesn’t need to know how much she’ll miss her. “Yeah, exactly.” She snaps, curling up her currently weightless legs into the chair.
“I’m planning for new students. Ways to make missions work with a smaller crew. But you can call that monkey bars if you want.”
The intangibility of her mind doesn't stop Emma from having a fairly good idea of what Kitty is thinking. She moves to the other girl's seat, lowering herself down just enough so that they're at eye level with one another. Her expression softens - it's not unheard of but it is uncommon for Emma to look as gentle like this. But she's sad, and Kitty clearly is, too.
"It's quite an adjustment, but I know you'll handle it well. How long will you stay mad at me, do you think? Will you tell all the new children how terrible I am?"
Kitty comes back into full solidity once more, mostly so she can push Emma away by her shoulder. It’s a friendly shove, not violent or angry in the end. She knows her own emotions get in the way sometimes, but she’d never actually want Emma to leave thinking she hates her. So she grabs her wrist right after she shoves it, to mirror that.
“I’m going to be mad for at least five more minutes.” She promises. “And I don’t think you’d be happy with me if I didn’t terrify them with stories about you, actually.”
Emma tips back the slightest amount, but she's poised as always so it's not precarious. Kitty catching her helps with that as well.
"I want them to fear me enough that they respect me, but when I come back to visit I can't have them scattering."
With a quiet, thoughtful hum, she reaches to cup her friend's cheek with her free hand. This is really her first goodbye, given that she's been saving them for tomorrow, and it's hitting her a little more than she expected.
"I don't know if I can bear five whole minutes. Can I talk you into two and a half?"
There’s a whole lot of acerbic bluster from Kitty tied right behind her tongue. She could say something about not being able to count to two and a half since she’s such a baby. She could pretend to have to think about it. Her shoulders just fall, instead, acquiescing to the strange embrace she finds herself in. If Emma goes away and she never sees her again, even two and a half is a waste.
“I’m not angry.” She admits, “I’m just…sorry. If you feel like you have to leave.”
Softly, Emma clicks her tongue in scolding, her hand moving from Kitty's cheek to smooth her hair, a familiar action. She finds it soothing, and hopefully Kitty does too. "You're allowed to be angry if you want. And there's no way you're rid of me, so don't worry about silly things like that. I'll be back to visit, and I'll drag you out to visit me."
After a moment she straightens herself, hand dropping to her side as she tries to lead the other young woman with her, over to the couch. "I'm making a choice that's right for me, just like everyone else. There's nothing to be sorry for, darling."
Kitty grumbles a nominal protest with words that don’t matter. She follows Emma while she can, giving up the ghost and draping over her shoulder, resting her head there. “I mean, it’s gonna be really nice when no one’s here to read my very own private thoughts. So that’s a plus.”
As Kitty drapes over her she leans into the other young woman, leading her along and only dislodging her when it's time to sit. Emma assumes Kitty will settle back into this spot once they're both comfortable, and the way she seats herself is intended to accommodate this.
"I hope you don't believe that Charles doesn't read your mind on occasion. He's just much more polite about it." A soft laugh, and then she adds, "And you'll miss me being in your head, I'm betting."
“And I always thought you’d be pretty good at betting.” Kitty retorts, “The Professor has more interesting brains than mine to pay attention to.”
She, maybe incorrectly, does think that’s true. It’s not like her brain and what comes out of her mouth are that far apart. Also, if she stops believing that, and accepts that maybe he actually lets her win half their chess games, she’d be wildly incensed, and no one needs that. She stills on Emma’s shoulder when they’re both sitting, a rare moment of vulnerability. Kitty breathes out, and about half her bravado goes with her.
“You don’t have to worry about anyone else here, either.” She says, after a few moments. “I’ll take care of them.”
Emma can't help but laugh softly - at the comment of her being good at betting, at Kitty and Xavier's chess games - before she shifts to rest her head against the other young woman's. After another moment she goes to take her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Though, honestly, she needs it a bit herself.
"I know you will. I'm still going to worry, though, so I'll have to come visit, and call you all the time, and demand video chats and updates on everything constantly because I can't just poke into your little brain and see for myself." A fact that she's not looking forward to, given how accustomed she generally is to supplementing her information about her friends with a little bit of mental invasiveness.
"I do need you to do one very specific thing for me, though. Above anything else."
“You can’t say I have a little brain when I don’t think even you’ve seen all of it.” She protests for the sake of protesting, but clasps the hand in hers. “And if you’re about to say something like burn my entire wardrobe, I won’t.”
"It's very little," Emma challenges, her tone heavy with humor. "And I was going to ask you to be honest if you ever need me, but I think I prefer your idea. Burn all of it."
“No.” Kitty grins up, faux-beatific. Her face falls into shadow right after though, and she turns her eyes to their hands, playing with the joined fingers. “I will tell you, if we need you. If you promise me that you won’t just assume we will."
If Emma’s going to leave, it’s important that she doesn’t look back too much, Kitty thinks. She deserves that. To thrive in whatever she’s going to do next. They can text about the rest.
Emma's eyes trail to their hands as well, a slight smile still on her lips. She knows they'll survive just fine without her, but it's funny how much this rather reassuring conversation is making her want to reconsider leaving. But, she has other things to do, and she just can't go public right now.
"I'm going to be very busy, so I'm hoping that will keep me from worrying about you all constantly. I also know you're all competent and strong. As long as you reach out, I won't spend my time worrying. Deal?"
“Yeah.” She squeezes the hand in hers, almost shaking it, a little pact. It’s another loss, still, but she feels more grounded now. Like maybe she’s capable as she says she is. Sometimes, anyway. “And we’ll be just incredibly busy too, so I can’t promise I’ll call every week. But. Most of them.”
Emma shifts a little so she can kiss the top of Kitty's head, gently and affectionately. She projects that affection into her mind, along with confidence. They will all be alright.
"Text me every week, at least? I won't know what to do with myself if you aren’t annoying me a little bit."
Kitty closes her eyes to the feeling of that little kiss on her head. In return, she floods Emma’s brain with just a million memes, emojis, gifs. Everything from the dawn of the internet until now, everything she’s sent or received, funny, cringey. That’s how much she’ll text her, and she’ll be so sorry she asked.
There’s an underlying sweep of her own confidence, too. Not just residual from Emma’s, but assurance in the opposite direction. “Yeah, I’ll be annoying a little bit.” She smiles.
When: 2021, before Emma's departure
Where: The Institute
What: Emma and Kitty say goodbye.
Warnings: Nope!
Leaving is bittersweet. It's Emma's choice, technically, but in a lot of ways it isn't - she can't go public without risking too much. So, she's leaving, off to a life she'd been thrown out of years ago. She's ready for this, ready to take decisive action with her father, take an active but shadowy role in a company that was never meant to be hers, and help her brother more directly than she has been in recent years. But she's not entirely ready to say goodbye, if she's being honest with herself.
She leaves in the morning, most of her things already packed up and shipped off. Sitting in the living room with a pour of neat whiskey and a book she's barely reading, she's trying to will herself out of feeling a little sad. Something like this was inevitable, after all.
It already seems too quiet in the mansion. Kitty had not originally given any pushback to the news of Emma’s imminent departure. It’s her choice. She knows it’s a little more complicated for some of them to go public than others, and Emma can’t. No more than Kitty could’ve changed her stance about wanting to go public in the first place, which she still doesn’t feel guilty for. Just a little sad that their former bustling home is fading away. So many of them are gone with second careers and school. Maybe it’s stubborn of her again, but Kitty can’t find it within herself to follow suit. So what if it’s a little lonely.
Leaves her a lot of time to float around the mansion like a displaced little ghost, at least. She’s also half reading a book that she has a partial intention to return somewhere in her tour of the manor. Instead, she happens upon the newest departure. “Oh, hi.” She says, not sounding thrilled entirely, “I thought you were gone already.”
(She didn’t. She did however have every intention of just letting Emma leave without a goodbye to leave the impression she does not care.)
The sound of Kitty's voice doesn't cause much of a reaction in Emma, even though it is a surprise. She hums, sips at her whiskey, turns a page, and still doesn't look up.
"That's tomorrow, darling - don't you have a calendar? And I haven't seen you all day." She sounds equally as blasé about the whole thing.
Kitty allows her body to gel back to tangibility so she can sit on an opposite armchair in abject imitation of the other young woman; she just doesn’t have the whiskey.
“Well you see, darling, my calendar actually has a lot more in it than you, is the problem.” The effect of the “darling” is a little lost when Kitty blows a raspberry after the word.
At the raspberry, Emma's eyes finally lift, a twinkle of amusement there even as her general expression remains even. Her mind reaches out to Kitty's, since the other girl is no longer inaccessible to her. She's going to miss her horribly.
"Filled with childish things? Coloring books? Swinging on monkey bars?" She sets aside her book and drink and gets to her feet, punctuating the action with a slow, luxurious stretch.
Kitty feels the familiar cool touch in her mind and goes intangible again defensively. She isn’t a child. If Emma’s going to be shitty she doesn’t need to see her brain. And Kitty certainly doesn’t need to know how much she’ll miss her. “Yeah, exactly.” She snaps, curling up her currently weightless legs into the chair.
“I’m planning for new students. Ways to make missions work with a smaller crew. But you can call that monkey bars if you want.”
The intangibility of her mind doesn't stop Emma from having a fairly good idea of what Kitty is thinking. She moves to the other girl's seat, lowering herself down just enough so that they're at eye level with one another. Her expression softens - it's not unheard of but it is uncommon for Emma to look as gentle like this. But she's sad, and Kitty clearly is, too.
"It's quite an adjustment, but I know you'll handle it well. How long will you stay mad at me, do you think? Will you tell all the new children how terrible I am?"
Kitty comes back into full solidity once more, mostly so she can push Emma away by her shoulder. It’s a friendly shove, not violent or angry in the end. She knows her own emotions get in the way sometimes, but she’d never actually want Emma to leave thinking she hates her. So she grabs her wrist right after she shoves it, to mirror that.
“I’m going to be mad for at least five more minutes.” She promises. “And I don’t think you’d be happy with me if I didn’t terrify them with stories about you, actually.”
Emma tips back the slightest amount, but she's poised as always so it's not precarious. Kitty catching her helps with that as well.
"I want them to fear me enough that they respect me, but when I come back to visit I can't have them scattering."
With a quiet, thoughtful hum, she reaches to cup her friend's cheek with her free hand. This is really her first goodbye, given that she's been saving them for tomorrow, and it's hitting her a little more than she expected.
"I don't know if I can bear five whole minutes. Can I talk you into two and a half?"
There’s a whole lot of acerbic bluster from Kitty tied right behind her tongue. She could say something about not being able to count to two and a half since she’s such a baby. She could pretend to have to think about it. Her shoulders just fall, instead, acquiescing to the strange embrace she finds herself in. If Emma goes away and she never sees her again, even two and a half is a waste.
“I’m not angry.” She admits, “I’m just…sorry. If you feel like you have to leave.”
Softly, Emma clicks her tongue in scolding, her hand moving from Kitty's cheek to smooth her hair, a familiar action. She finds it soothing, and hopefully Kitty does too. "You're allowed to be angry if you want. And there's no way you're rid of me, so don't worry about silly things like that. I'll be back to visit, and I'll drag you out to visit me."
After a moment she straightens herself, hand dropping to her side as she tries to lead the other young woman with her, over to the couch. "I'm making a choice that's right for me, just like everyone else. There's nothing to be sorry for, darling."
Kitty grumbles a nominal protest with words that don’t matter. She follows Emma while she can, giving up the ghost and draping over her shoulder, resting her head there. “I mean, it’s gonna be really nice when no one’s here to read my very own private thoughts. So that’s a plus.”
As Kitty drapes over her she leans into the other young woman, leading her along and only dislodging her when it's time to sit. Emma assumes Kitty will settle back into this spot once they're both comfortable, and the way she seats herself is intended to accommodate this.
"I hope you don't believe that Charles doesn't read your mind on occasion. He's just much more polite about it." A soft laugh, and then she adds, "And you'll miss me being in your head, I'm betting."
“And I always thought you’d be pretty good at betting.” Kitty retorts, “The Professor has more interesting brains than mine to pay attention to.”
She, maybe incorrectly, does think that’s true. It’s not like her brain and what comes out of her mouth are that far apart. Also, if she stops believing that, and accepts that maybe he actually lets her win half their chess games, she’d be wildly incensed, and no one needs that. She stills on Emma’s shoulder when they’re both sitting, a rare moment of vulnerability. Kitty breathes out, and about half her bravado goes with her.
“You don’t have to worry about anyone else here, either.” She says, after a few moments. “I’ll take care of them.”
Emma can't help but laugh softly - at the comment of her being good at betting, at Kitty and Xavier's chess games - before she shifts to rest her head against the other young woman's. After another moment she goes to take her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. Though, honestly, she needs it a bit herself.
"I know you will. I'm still going to worry, though, so I'll have to come visit, and call you all the time, and demand video chats and updates on everything constantly because I can't just poke into your little brain and see for myself." A fact that she's not looking forward to, given how accustomed she generally is to supplementing her information about her friends with a little bit of mental invasiveness.
"I do need you to do one very specific thing for me, though. Above anything else."
“You can’t say I have a little brain when I don’t think even you’ve seen all of it.” She protests for the sake of protesting, but clasps the hand in hers. “And if you’re about to say something like burn my entire wardrobe, I won’t.”
"It's very little," Emma challenges, her tone heavy with humor. "And I was going to ask you to be honest if you ever need me, but I think I prefer your idea. Burn all of it."
“No.” Kitty grins up, faux-beatific. Her face falls into shadow right after though, and she turns her eyes to their hands, playing with the joined fingers. “I will tell you, if we need you. If you promise me that you won’t just assume we will."
If Emma’s going to leave, it’s important that she doesn’t look back too much, Kitty thinks. She deserves that. To thrive in whatever she’s going to do next. They can text about the rest.
Emma's eyes trail to their hands as well, a slight smile still on her lips. She knows they'll survive just fine without her, but it's funny how much this rather reassuring conversation is making her want to reconsider leaving. But, she has other things to do, and she just can't go public right now.
"I'm going to be very busy, so I'm hoping that will keep me from worrying about you all constantly. I also know you're all competent and strong. As long as you reach out, I won't spend my time worrying. Deal?"
“Yeah.” She squeezes the hand in hers, almost shaking it, a little pact. It’s another loss, still, but she feels more grounded now. Like maybe she’s capable as she says she is. Sometimes, anyway. “And we’ll be just incredibly busy too, so I can’t promise I’ll call every week. But. Most of them.”
Emma shifts a little so she can kiss the top of Kitty's head, gently and affectionately. She projects that affection into her mind, along with confidence. They will all be alright.
"Text me every week, at least? I won't know what to do with myself if you aren’t annoying me a little bit."
Kitty closes her eyes to the feeling of that little kiss on her head. In return, she floods Emma’s brain with just a million memes, emojis, gifs. Everything from the dawn of the internet until now, everything she’s sent or received, funny, cringey. That’s how much she’ll text her, and she’ll be so sorry she asked.
There’s an underlying sweep of her own confidence, too. Not just residual from Emma’s, but assurance in the opposite direction. “Yeah, I’ll be annoying a little bit.” She smiles.
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