//OOC: Some NPCage of everyone to get this thread started. Hope you don't mind Necro, but if you do
lemme know and I'll edit accordingly....//
Manuel had strolled down the hallway that lead to Miss Frost's room, pacing and calming himself down. It was almost ironic that the boy with the ability to manipulate others' emotions could be swept away by the sea of his own. Were they his own? His anger made his fists shake and he remembered being in those offices of his shrinks, in their wards where he had been locked away to keep people from talking about the 'recently schizophrenic Rocha', and the other patients' movements and habits... his hands had never shaken like this. But the hands of that 50-year-old murderous psycho did. He steadied them and psionically reached around to feel who was closest and trying his best to actually watch out for Monet.
Monet St. Croix. She had warned him time-and-again that she could destroy him, but they were always the words of a girl whom he had not touched with his power. Surely, he had made grown men cry by just reading to them the darkest part of themselves (the grown men being his very shrinks) but this was different. He always imagined that if he needed to he would make her very heart race until it exploded. He imagined making her hate herself to the point of falling off of a bridge. He envisioned walking her in front of a train and shrugging off her pathetic death. Emma's response never mattered as he always thought that he was just as good as Monet St. Croix and she could favor him instead.
Although, why would she never crossed his mind; the feelings of others did not matter anymore like they use to. They were his emotions in some sick way of thought.
However, now everything was different; reality had shown him of her threat. She could actually keep him out of her soul, out long enough to break him into pieces; and Manuel had to admit that she was greater than he was. Stronger. Faster. More intelligent and well read. The others had given the wild boar of a girl the breadth of space and respected her power, while he merely laughed at them all for being that silly.
His hand shook even harder and he cursed himself for having this piece of that bastard inside of him... he'd rubbed off on him when he was so young and impressionable, when he could not keep the world from penetrating him and fucking him mercilessly. That's what it felt like to be open to such emotions constantly, being fucked inside and not being able to push anyone out. For someone who was as manipulative and conniving as he, it was only because he had to be; it was his very nature to be swept away by the fleeting sensations of others just as it was to control them. Why not be the one on top instead of being the one to have to always suffer the consequences?
In that very moment, he wanted Amber more than ever. Sweet girl who would do anything to be with him without even a thought; Manuel had watched her strut down the runway one night and she threw him this wink and a smirk that had captured him... so he had returned the favor and stolen her heart. But he was careful with it. No?
Monet's presence rose the hairs on the back of his neck and he leaned against the wall to appear relaxed, unaffected when his insides where swirling around and his shields were cracking a bit from his mental whirlwind. If he wasn't careful, the fear and dreams of the whole block would come fluttering in and he would collapse in front of that Algerian whore, giving her the luxury of seeing him at his worst.
"Well, I almost thought you could not have taken any longer than you have and you proved me wrong. Now, if you would be such a dear and let me into your master's room. I want to get a copy of her license so I can check her 'real age' and tell everyone." He did his best to mask his anger and defeat, but Monet could read it. Her brown eyes gloated her superiority over him even when her mouth was closed.
tk! Ah… there we go. Those shields weren't always as strong; and Manuel mental fleeted away as
the small piece of her shield was chipped away, revealing the creamy center that existed in everyone. At least to him. But... for someone who was good at
keeping him out of her mind, she let her guard down at times, like this one, to gloat or when she was being praised. Manuel made a note of that as he followed
her while she opened the room to the Devil's chambers. Monet St. Croix was many things and had many gifts, but she was sadly ever-so predictable... if you
knew what the fuck was wrong with her. Luckily for him, Manuel had a clue…
Inside, the room was draped in white as if to show how tacky (and American) Emma Frost really was. He scoffed and muttered, "Not surprising," under his breath as he strolled through, running his finger onto her mattress only for the childish joy of knowing that he had left his fingerprint in a place Mommy would not like. Hell, he would have brought Amber and a few of her friends into the room and screwed them in so many positions if he could have just so he could have the pleasure of knowing she was sleeping in he sweat, grime, and seed.
But that was just only a fantasy and would likely stay as such. "Do you ever think she's been with anyone in a real relationship? One where you attempt to care about a person besides yourself?" he laughed as he admired the pictures on her walls. "That sounds almost laughable coming from me, but at least I try to care about other people. Miss Frost seems so... Lonely." he sighed in a ridiculing tone. "That is why she has a kind soul like you here, yes?"