[video]

[myownbestfriend]

[Say hello to Emma Frost, an intimidatingly beautiful but apparently normal human woman who is not especially pleased to be on a giant turtle and drafted into some kind of metaphysical war. She's got it dialed down to an aura of vague irritation, though, and she leans back in the large desk chair that came with her Fire Sector suite. The deep brown of the leather sets off her pale coloration and low-cut white X-Men uniform to excellent effect, and if you think she didn't plan that, you haven't met Emma.]

Please tell me there's a half-decent salon somewhere on this planet.

[If she has to do her own roots she's switching to diamond form until the problem is resolved, see if she doesn't.

Yes, yes, Malicant, a murdered emperor, giant turtles all but extinct, a world on the verge of destruction...but none of those are the sort of thing one ought to ask stupid questions about in public, now are they?]

Comments

Video;

[myownbestfriend]

[No one has ever before implied Emma wears too little clothing, Korra. You are the cleverest.]

Does he work in furs?

[All of Emma's mink coats (yes, plural) are in another universe. Her life is haaaaaaaard.]

Video;

[alphatar]

No idea, sorry. I make my own furs.

[To indicate so, Korra puts her thumb over shoulder to point out the large fur on the wall from the buck she killed during landfall.]

Video;

[myownbestfriend]

[Korra why are you hanging it on the wall instead of making clothes out of it? Though deer hides are really better used as leather, Emma supposes.]

Ah well, I can always ask.

[She is steadfastly refusing to be even slightly thrown off by Korra.]

Video;

[alphatar]

[And Korra actually likes that.]

I don't think you'll be disappointed; his clothing is pretty popular with the foreigners.

Video;

[myownbestfriend]

Oh, excellent. I do like working directly with a designer.

[Which means she has only herself to blame for some of the crap she's worn over the years.]