lord redwald vannes (charismata) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-06-16 11:36:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, !log, gale kapur, redwald vannes |
WHO: Redwald Vannes & Gale Kapur.
WHAT: Redwald & Gale chat before the auction. Naturally, it does not go well.
WHERE: The Albrecht estate.
WHEN: Backdated to Friday, 5/31.
WARNINGS: None.
STATUS: Complete.
Ever since she was a little girl, peeking around the brightly-colored skirt of her mother, Gale Kapur had attended and treated every social engagement -- be it a formal ball, a hunting trip, or even as insignificant as an everyday luncheon -- as if it were her grand debut, the first and last impression she would present to the who’s who of Emillion. No matter who goaded her, no matter what sort of unrepentant rudeness she might encounter in the intricate social tapestry in which she was but one thread, Gale understood that she was woven into it. And in order to maintain this strong tie to others and prevent herself from being plucked, Gale approached every encounter with her typical expression of neutral indifference, occasionally colored by amusement but more likely a well-practiced attempt at hiding her disdain. There were very few people Gale genuinely liked -- most people did not merit her admiration, in her opinion -- but she needn’t make an issue of it (though she could think of a few who lacked the self-control and decorum). However, there was a handful of persons who managed to get under her skin and succeeded in having her show it. Storm, for example, or rather, most of the Kapurs. Divina in the rare moments when they disagreed. There was a certain mage in the tower who had served as her rival for the majority of her training and learning; their neck-to-neck race towards who was the better mage had her showing signs of aggravation (and throwing more than a few spellbooks at walls). And then there was Redwald Vannes. No doubt he was here, somewhere, amongst the milling socialites. Gale thoughtfully sipped her sparkling wine, her dark eyes scanning over the privileged heads to see that familiar face. To avoid him, of course. Because the last thing she needed was an encounter with Red, she thought acidically. How many balls had he ruined for her in their shared childhood? She would run out of fingers and toes if she had to do that. Yes, Redwald was there, amongst the milling socialites, and doing his very best to avoid the rest of the Vannes family. His father, mother, and brother were all making an appearance at the auction, much to his dismay. Their presence at any social event was enough to sour the whole thing for him. He thought his father and brother would be too busy for “complete nonsense” like a date auction. And he had hoped Ovelia Vannes would find the whole concept behind the auction terribly off-putting. But no, he was dead wrong on all counts -- which was why he was quickly moving through the crowd, exchanging handshakes and kisses with the anyone that was a great distance away from his family. He was in the middle of talking to one of his father’s acquaintances from court -- and deftly pocketing the man’s watch -- when he noticed Gale Kapur. Anyone would agree that the girl stood out in a crowd, but for Redwald, she was like a lightning rod for his attention. A stubborn, classist, and infuriating lightning rod, of course, but one he still found entertaining. The conversation with his father’s colleague politely ended as he plucked a flute of champagne from a nearby tray and walked over, his mouth twisting into its usual smirk. “How much coin are you prepared to spend on me this evening, Gale?” He took a sip as he pretended to muse over the amount. “I’m thinking a thousand even, but who knows, maybe you’ll offer up all your savings. It is for a good cause.” Gale’s expression did not falter, though she raised her eyebrows. Again, unsurprised to see him here, though admittedly a little dismayed -- if only because, for all his amusement (and he was amusing, though she would never admit it), he was equally infuriating. Every time she saw him, she immediately went through a ticker-tape reel of every encounter they had, most of them at the expense of her own dignity: how many spilled drinks, ripped skirts, and red faces had she suffered at the hands of one Redwald Vannes? “I would pay them one thousand gil to keep you away from me,” Gale replied evenly, sipping at her drink. “I suppose that there is no avoiding you in public situations, is there? I should have expected you to find me eventually. It seems your evening is rarely complete without coming to pester me at these sort of events.” She gestured to the filled room of beautifully-attired, people noble and not, though Gale took very little notice of those who fell outside her social circle. “Somehow I am unsurprised that you are offering yourself up to auction,” she noted. “I hope you enjoy prostituting yourself for the good of the dock rebuilding effort.” “Prostitution?” He cocked an eyebrow at her choice in phrasing. “That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Redwald glanced around at the room, scanning over the familiar faces. Some of the attendees were wealthy enough to have the docks repaired out of pocket without batting an eye, but the chances of that ever happening were slim to none. For most of them, all of this was simply for show -- a gesture of goodwill to assuage their own egos. His family could be lumped into that category. So could Gale, he imagined. “It’s just a bit of fun, after all. People are bidding on our time, not sexual favors.” Red leaned forward and lowered his voice, flashing the mage his most lascivious grin. “But for you, sweetheart, I would be willing to work something out.” “If you wanted to donate your time,” she replied dryly, though she now had a wide smile on her face -- no doubt attempting to be condescending and mirror Red’s own foxlike expression, “then I suggest you go to the docks and make use of those hands you have. It would be a much better use of your energy than attempting to ‘work something out’ with me.” It was usually around now that Gale would try to walk past Red, perhaps bumping into his shoulder in such a way that he spilled something on his clothing, but she could see a gathering of women tittering and laughing and she had little interest of joining them. Where was Divina when you needed her? Was she preparing herself to go on stage? Gale’s eyes scanned the crowd. Or Elvira, she would do as well. Though of course, she reflected, looking at her present company, Red could keep her occupied for the next five minutes if need be. She began to weigh the option of staying here; she could feel her frown coming at the thought. “Touché,” he shot back, not missing a beat. “But only if you’re willing to join me. Personally, I would love to see the prim and proper Gale Kapur get her hands dirty for once.” Redwald took another sip of his champagne, his grin more challenging than flirtatious. It was a challenge Gale wouldn’t take him up on, that much was obvious. A woman like her wouldn’t sully herself with physical labor at the docks. It was unheard of. And while he was loath to admit it, Red wasn’t especially keen on the idea himself. Money he could give, but his time and energy were very precious. He only ventured to that district for business and business alone. (There was also the fact that he was embarrassingly awful at physical labor, but that was neither here nor there.) “If they were to require my assistance, I would give it, but my best usage would not be at the docks,” Gale replied. Inwardly, she shivered at the idea of working at the docks, her robes dripping heavy with seawater. “If anything, I would put myself in a place where I could help while using my abilities. Workers cast with Haste, for example, could be potentially useful.” “And you can’t do that at the docks?” he asked with a laugh. “I realize that would require interacting with the poor, Gale, but maybe the experience would be good for you. Eye opening, even.” Red finished off the last of his champagne and quickly deposited the empty glass in a passing server’s hand. Then, with a surprising amount of dexterity, plucked Gale’s own wine glass from her hand and took a long sip, savoring the flavor. “Not bad. Maybe it’ll give me the boost of courage I need before I go on stage.” There was a pause before he added, “But a kiss would do just as nicely.” Gale felt her lurking temper flare up, like a jet of lava bursting forth from an unexpected fissure. She curled her hand tightly, digging her nails into her palm, but kept her breathing steady. How many times had he managed to annoy her just so, to the point that it boiled up and burned the both of them (much to his delight, that cad)? “I don’t see you rubbing shoulders with any of the commoners here,” Gale said in retort, “though if you are so desperate for a kiss, I suppose you might want to ask one of them; I am sure they would be pleased to kiss a nobleman, no matter how distasteful he is.” “I’ve no problem kissing commoners,” he admitted with a shrug. Redwald had kissed a good number of them in his day. Then again, he also frequented the Red Light District more often than he would care to admit, so that didn’t mean very much. “But I understand your reluctance, sweetheart. After all, you’re betrothed now. I wouldn’t want the rumor mill swirling with talk of your true feelings for me.” As much as he wanted to stay and bother her — few things were more enjoyable than getting under Gale Kapur’s skin — he did have an auction to get ready for. Reaching in his jacket pocket for his cigarette case, he sighed as he looked around at the crowd. “Speaking of kissing, I should be off. Don’t hesitate to break out the big money for me,” he added with a wink. With that, he turned on his heel and made his way through the crowd, pausing just long enough to say: “Oh, and tell little Cumulus I said hello!” “I wouldn’t pay a gil for you, Vannes,” Gale muttered after his retreating back -- but by then he had slipped into the crowd -- and then, a little louder, “And his name is Storm, you idiot.” If anyone turned to look at Gale curiously (and why wouldn’t they -- it was a rare instance that the mage rose her voice in volume for any purpose), she simply tipped her head at them. “Good evening,” she said primly, and with no explanation (why would she explain anything to strangers?), she turned on her own heel and disappeared into the milling crowd. As Red had said, there was an auction to watch; she had very little intention of actually missing it. |