[identity profile] marvel-citizens.livejournal.com
Erik Lensherr has spared no expense. Tonight the 4-star Hotel Transia, jewel of his hospitality empire, has opened its doors to admit the New York elite to celebrate the engagement of his daughter Lorna to Alex Summers. Everyone who is anyone is here, to see and be seen, to catch at least a glimpse of the young couple. Naturally, there are other currents beneath the surface conversation. Like all social events, this is a time for bargaining and exploring, negotiating and fencing. But all blood drawn had better be metaphorical, or the Lensherrs' crack security team will know the reason why.

Grandbrat

Jun. 8th, 2007 11:01 pm
[identity profile] tommyshepherd.livejournal.com
Tommy peeked out from his bedroom door, looking left and right, his legs shaking at having to stand still for so long. Billy was busy behind him taking a nap. It was something that Tommy was unable to do for long.

His Eema didn't seem to be here, or there, or anywhere.

Anywhere nearby anyway.

A gleeful grin on his face, Tommy zooms off towards his grandfather's favorite room in the house, determined to spend some time with him, and hoping to make his grandfather side with him and make his Eema ease up on him.

After all, one can only be put on a time-out so many times.

Story time

May. 21st, 2007 08:41 pm
[identity profile] wanda-maximoff.livejournal.com
Motherhood is a calling, Wanda Lensherr will say at every opportunity. Each birth means a life and eventually a death. It is a holy chore, raising children.

Which does not prevent the children from being holy terrors, on occasion, which Tommy will be at every opportunity. But she hopes he will behave now, during one of those most important times of a mother's day: story time.

"Billy?" she calls out. "Tommy? Boys? It's time." She settles on the living room couch, book in hand, her finger marking the place where she'd left off the night before.
[identity profile] marvel-citizens.livejournal.com
It's been said there are eight million stories in the Big Apple. Modern New Yorkers scorn this as an underestimate, though the more cynical ones will hold forth on the topic of how many stories are the same old, same old. Others will argue that every story is different, because New York makes them so. This surging, seething city: the hot spot of the American melting pot, where so many first set foot on American shores, where so many come seeking fame and fortune, where so many find only disappointment or despair or even death, where a few manage to hitch their dreams to that morning star.

"Every person on the streets of New York is a type. The city is one big theater where everyone is on display," said Jerry Rubin. All the world may be a stage, and all the men and women merely players, but who plays what? Who gets the leading role, and who will forever be stuck in the chorus line? Who will remain a stage-door Johnny, and who will be able to move from lead actor to director ... or the even more powerful position of producer?

Cast, crew, backers, and audience ... each one brings their own meaning to that granite beehive where people jostle and whir like molecules in an overheated jar.

New York City. Center of the universe.

If you can make it here, you'll make it anywhere.

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