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The Alexandrian

Strangers in the Night [Networking Event]

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[Mira/Ilyana]

Ilyana’s gaze slithered all over Mira, seemingly searching for the next detail concerning posture or movement to possibly exploit but that gaze soon broke at the arrival of Caecelia in the distance who decided to impose her formidable will on several patrons and servants. Even her own servant that she had taken a liking to had been forced into reverence which caused Ilyana to shift a bit as she stared heavily at the Glasmann host with an intensity that was not hindered by the oppressive manifestation of the woman’s power. Had this encounter happened months ago she might have followed suit to others who thought it best to bend knee rather than face the woman’s wrath but she would never allow herself to return to such embarrassing humility ever again. Swirling black watched as Caecelia moved over to some other youthful girl but it was Mira’s voice that stole her focus once again.

 

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m here to unwind?”

 

Strong opinion urged Ilyana to quickly respond but she refrained and let Mira continue answering the question she had just posed moments ago. While it wasn’t a surprise that someone would wish to attend an event like this to alleviate the burden of the quotidian, the premise posed for invitation by the monstrous Glasmann host hoped for something more and Ilyana was no different. The reminder of the opulent surroundings that Mira offered seemed to spark something within the entrepreneur that colored her next words.

 

“For all the opulence and pomp present here, I find much more enjoyment with those who appreciate the intangible enjoyment that is ever present outside of such comfort. You consider yourself a connoisseur of whatever fancies high society while I am a connoisseur of what fancies those not fed with silver spoon and inheritance.”

 

 

She turned again, bare feet not giving away any of the movement but her body language sure evinced complete focus on her current companion now.

 

“Perhaps in this complement you may have found yourself a friend far more valuable than whoever else you were subjected to.”

 

Ilyana smiled briefly before stepping forward so that she didn’t have to speak at such high volume any longer. Personal space was in danger of invasion yet Mira would find Ilyana was very purposeful with her teasing proximity, black eyes staring hard into Mira’s own as she continued.

 

“In order to find common ground, I must understand what ground you’ve laid your foundation on Mira. Leisure may have brought you here and I can gladly oblige in more ways than one but I am seeking something with more….longevity. You see…cities like these abound with fruit primed to be plucked by my hand.”

 

Ilyana lifted a hand and moved seemingly dainty fingers about before resting an index finger on her lips for a second or two as she contemplated her next few words.

 

“Being the intuitive businesswoman that I am, I have reason to believe you have resources at your disposal that could help cement my hold here and abroad. I see beauty but sense endless capacity and promise. But first, what do you consider your profession to be Mira? Knowing will help me understand how I can help you. I am as resourceful as I am a joy to talk to…trust me”

 

Ilyana’s choice of words was careful, deliberate, much like her movement. Ambiguous yet confidently forward, she hoped Mira remained genuine and the foundation of something plentiful would begin.


 

@vielle

 

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[Middy and Caeceila Glasmann]

"Check yourself, jester, for I will not tolerate idolatry.  Where your power holds sway, you may enshrine the likenesses of throngs of ignoble murderers on marble plinths, but in my home, and wherever my power reigns, you will have the decency to at least pretend you think your allegedly deceased whore is unworthy of emulation."

Caeceila Glasmann, wielding her sanctimonious authority with skill to match her prowess with a blade, has recovered quite well from her "Nines Moment."  She stands at her full height, majestic and fierce, and for an instant, the space she occupies extends beyond the confines of what any guest visiting the Glasmann Estate would ever recognize as her body.  She stretches into empty air, her distorted human features entombed within a cavern of teeth or immured beneath a squamous hide of sapphire, silver, and cerulean plates.  Pride and contempt congress in her starlit eyes, now sickles of ice enclosed in primordial, saurian slits.  Globes of energy, dispelling shadows with forbidding cerulean light, swirl in an inexorable psionic tempest, illuminating the beautiful, winged behemoth for the split second it persists.  Once Caeceila Glasmann, the so-called gore-spattered debutante, has granted The Mistress the briefest flash of insight into the timeless power she dares to trifle with, the vaguely draconic beast dissipates into the ether.

Caeceila Glasmann entertains no conceits concerning her family's clout.  This is her city.  This is her home.  In it, she shan't suffer the exaltation of an omnicidal tart.

Caeceila's exhibition of power is easily missed by the majority of her audience.  It is a singular event, an altered frame in a reel of film.  Scarce are those with the ability to perceive it, and scarcer still are those who are able to comprehend it.  Surely, the gravity of the spectacle and the gravitas regulating Caeceila's demeanor at this juncture are not lost on Middy in her role as the leader of the Black Spear Cartel.  Caeceila is displeased, to say the least, by Middy's assumption that The Mistress "would more than likely inflict heavy losses on [her] side."  It's certainly a malapart play in such well-bred, patriotic company.

"You ought to be thankful that I believe your tale, bizarre as it is.  If you were as much of a degenerate as the soul you displaced - or, for all I know and for all I care, consumed - you'd have participated in acts so raunchy that your grandmother's ghost would swoon at the indignity of it all.  I trust that you've subjected your new host to thorough medical scrutiny.  Your enemy laid with a cur possessing a corpse and gods-know what else, after all.  I wouldn't be surprised if she kept farm animals and mindless brutes around for use on special occasions.  Who else would bed a psychopath whose idea of a night on the town involves multiple atrocities, physical, spiritual, and sexual in nature.  You ought to be thankful that I believe your tale, for if I did not, no part of you would ever leave my lair.  Whether this is a prank or not, you would belong to me."

Tension builds in crescendo as Caeceila speaks.  Her aggression is palpable.  Brazenly, she taunts Middy, or rather Middy's body, not once sparing a thought for her public image.  Again and again, she parrots Middy's rhetorical question.  "Who else would have the gall or the sheer level of stupidity to use such a dangerous name especially here in Terrenus?"  Who else indeed.  It's stupid.  It's crazy.  It's annoying as all hell.  But Caeceila forces herself to relax.  This is just the kind of foolishness maniacs on both sides of the line engage in on a daily basis.

"I suppose your ultimate objective tonight is to either lure me into a trap or sell me information on the Legion of Doom's whereabouts, unless you really are here for a more mundane purpose.  Either way, I insist you deal.  You can provide me with access to something I want, and I might be able to provide you with something you want.  I might be able, for instance, to do something about the body you currently occupy.  It goes without saying, of course, that there are other items and services I am uniquely positioned to provide to you as consideration for the information you have.  I might even be persuaded to compensate you for your information on The Mistress's demise."

Caeceila approaches Middy and seats herself in a chair at her table.

"I am no genie, but it certainly couldn't hurt to tell me what your heart desires."

Edited by The Alexandrian

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[ Míra Andronov / Ilyana Sevryn ]

 

Observant eyes slide down her frame, take in the everything that she presents to the world at large and to this very room right now, and Míra has long practiced the art of stoicism, of masks and smoke and mirrors so opaque, the trait defeats their very purpose. She has practiced patience; she employs it like a sword, now, as the other woman turns to look away for a moment towards their host, heated and weighty.

Caecelia Glassmann commands the attention of the room for a moment, a shining jewel in the dark rough, an unflinching command at her beck and call.

Míra shifts her wandering gaze back to the woman before her after their hostess has moved on, watching the play of firelight dance across her face, a flickering show of warmth.

“For all the opulence and pomp present here, I find much more enjoyment with those who appreciate the intangible enjoyment that is ever present outside of such comfort. You consider yourself a connoisseur of whatever fancies high society while I am a connoisseur of what fancies those not fed with silver spoon and inheritance.”

Míra looks on, silent. The woman speaks again, and here, she allows the corner of her lip to curl. A friend far more valuable than everyone else she had accompanied throughout the night? She cannot quite agree with this sudden declaration, not when she had just been led away from a rather entertaining session with the Lady Glassmann herself, another invitation to a future event held tight in her mental clasp.

It is by this juncture that Ilyana steps forward, far more closer than is necessary, and Míra tilts her head at the other woman’s approach, holding the stare boring into her own gaze. The sense of understanding sinks like a knowing stone; here is a woman who appears to stand as a colleague in Míra’s own field.

“Being the intuitive businesswoman that I am, I have reason to believe you have resources at your disposal that could help cement my hold here and abroad. I see beauty but sense endless capacity and promise. But first, what do you consider your profession to be Mira? Knowing will help me understand how I can help you. I am as resourceful as I am a joy to talk to…trust me.”

At this point in time, Míra can no longer quell the burgeoning smirk that threatens her composure. Delightful, absolutely delightful, if not a bit amusing as well. “I consider myself an entrepreneur, madame. A proprietor of various enterprises throughout Terrenus.” She pauses to call over a servant who then flits by them with flutes of champagne in hand, which she bypasses in favor of the red wine goblet, plucked into her grasp. “I am a vintner by familial trade, but I also own opera houses and a nightclub in Last Chance,” Míra continues, eyes flickering down to watch the swirl of red in her glass as her fingers dance in circles in the air. “And what about you, then, Ilyana? We speak of my own value, but I have yet to hear yours.”

 


 

@Dolor Aeternum

 

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[Mira Andronov / Ilyana Sevryn]

 

Caecelia’s antics were distracting enough to cause a break in her fixated gaze upon Mira. She wasn’t anything like the other Hell’s Gate nobles. Nothing like the men and women she had been forced to entertain in a life previous to the glory of this present one. The woman was clearly volatile and whatever words were being spoken were forward enough to cause mouths to part in surprise around her. In the brief moment of attention that was stolen, Ilyana had already found herself somewhat entranced but immediately removed herself from the destructive trappings in favor of Mira who was the immediate blessing.

 

“I consider myself an entrepreneur, madame. A proprietor of various enterprises throughout Terrenus.”

 

Ilyana refuses any drink offered, the depth of her black gaze resting directly upon Mira’s own, and this time without the flirtatious scans of before. The intimacy of proximity made Mira’s words all the more entertaining as the intonations could now be discerned from within the chaotic din around them. The Hell’s Gate entrepreneur fully intended to tacitly display prioritized focus now, the slight curl of a smile beginning as if she was already aware she would enjoy the next string of words that would leave Mira’s lips.

 

“I am a vintner by familial trade, but I also own opera houses and a nightclub in Last Chance.”

 

Then the reversal came.

 

“And what about you, then, Ilyana? We speak of my own value, but I have yet to hear yours.”

 

Ilyana knew she would enjoy Mira seconds in to the beginning of their conversation but how much they had in common was highly unexpected. Ilyana’s smile widened before she responded immediately after Mira finished speaking. “I am an entrepreneur myself. I own several inns, clubs and eateries across the eastern portion of Hell’s Gate. I am also a distributor of desired goods across Terrenus.” Ilyana stepped back just a bit so that she could gauge the entirety of Mira’s response but wasted no time in continuing.

 

“Wine and entertainment are easy on the palette of those who frequent my businesses. Should you wish to be a purveyor of those things within this fine city, I could easily assist.”

 

A dismissive hand lingered in the air before coming to move a few strands of loose hair away from her face. She…was not done.

 

“The ease of such a partnership doesn’t seem like it is enough though does it Mira? There must be other niche arenas we can find synergy in.”

 

Ilyana looked at the tablet that held Mira’s name and whatever public data had already been recorded about her, motioning to it in mid conversation.

 

“There has to be something else this cannot already tell me that I can assist with. Intuition urges me to pry so I do hope you oblige.”

 

Ilyana gave the tablet back to her private servant but never let her gaze wander away from Mira, searching for any sign that her intuition had not failed her. She had not come here only to have another wine bottle to add to her menu or another option to stave off boredom. That was not why her savior had given her this new life. One she would not squander by confining herself to the pleasantries lesser men and women gladly indulge in. Anxiously awaiting her fellow entrepreneur’s response, she idly fiddled with Obtenebra along her thigh, ever hopeful that she would come out of this event with something her family could use.

 


@vielle

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[Middy and Cecelia Glasmann] images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTjKpo_4sEbmd_4buSkSjxPTFGOy6AFJ2Y3Z2KkccssZ1gmUKeJ


Cae's display was impressive but the Mistress only responded with a shrug. Any person can show impressive power within their own realm but outside of it? Surely not. Not that the Mistress is undermining Glasmann's capabilities but surely anyone can be considered strong within the confines of their own land? Should she be afraid then? One can only have such hubris because she's in her own setting. Unlike the Mistress who's been facing way stronger beings than Glasmann ever has, and survived. Not even Death itself could stop the Mistress.

"Should I be impressed then, Lady Glassman? Or should I cower in fear before your display?" the Mistress replied, the amused look on her face never faltering. Shoving another stick of lighted cigar to her full lips, the Mistress continued, "You won't be the first one to flaunt your so-called unmatched strength before my delicate eyes. And neither would be the last. But you are the host so-" the Mistress' face scrunches for a moment before it settles into this wide-eyed sniveling look of a mundane humane female. "-Oh dear, I am but an innocent and defenseless woman before the omnipotent and overwhelming Lady Glasmann. Whatever should I do?"

"As for the whore you mentioned, I don't particularly emulate someone like that. If I were the real Mistress, I would have murdered that whore in cold blood even if she was my biological mother and take over the organization. Unfortunately, I'm not the real Mistress so I definitely could not have done that. But if I'm a well-educated individual myself and even I know of the disturbing exploits of the infamous Lady Black Head. Definitely not a pretty tale, one best reserved for the disturbed, unless the Lady Glasmann found it interesting? Never knew you were that kind of woman, but who am I to judge?"

As Glasmann began to go into more details about her bargains, the Mistress' eyes seemed to partially close as she inhaled more cigar smoke. The lucrative taste of tobacco has always been a weakness to those of the Lady's lineage and Middy was not an exception. Her twin sister perhaps, but she has no idea wherever Ravenbush is at the moment. However, what is really important right now is Lady Glasmann.

"Well, leaving your lair is not that hard, to be honest. And I only came here for the mundane reason of enjoying conversation with random strangers." The Mistress did survive even more unfair odds. Glasmann is just another obstacle the Mistress would overcome in her own tale. "Here's a freebie though. The Black Head is less of a person but more of a concept that exists within every cartel member. Who knows how many members the cartel has at this point in time. Even if the current Black Head were to die here, there will be another person to don the mantle."

"As for the Legion of Doom, how would you like to go on a vacation to the cold lands of Shawnee?"

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