Open to Alistair
It was a victory, really. She may have forgotten Achilles for a while, but when she was reminded of how far she'd pushed him, she'd been eager to claim her prize. She had given him this fame, it was her who had pushed him to these heights. He'd be a fool if she would not expect compensation.
The gown she'd chosen was a sign of it's own. styled after the ones often worn in old Greece, Absinthe made a stunning picture. She was no famous name, but she made sure everyone noted the green eyed woman.
She curled her arm possessively around Alistair, her eyes never leaving Achilles and the woman. He had dared? Dared to lavish attention on another who had not given him everything he had lacked? The movie had flew over her head, her attentions elsewhere.
Once everything had ended she moved toward the afterparty. Her eyes were sharp, her anger clear. She was not happy. Not at all. She took a glass and emptied the contents and with a bristle of power let the green liquid replace it. "Arrogant dog." Her eyes focused on Achilles as her fingers curled around Alistairs arm. "Did you know, belle, that he wouldn't have gotten all this without my aid? And not a lick of thanks."