EARTH Let Them Eat Cake

Discussion in 'Open Roleplay' started by Lucrezia Dionisi, Jun 7, 2018.

  1. Niamh O'Rourke

    Niamh O'Rourke Protogen Researcher

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    Niamh didn't quite gawp at the sight of seven carats but her jaw did drop a little. She was dimly aware of her hand dropping and the other coming across to conceal her own ring. "It....is a beauty" she couldn't deny it. She did have the urge to flay her own fiancée for not putting in more effort but now was hardly the time.

    Lucrezia's eyes glittered and her laughter was like silver bells. She had the gall to sound almost motherly as she assured Niamh that focusing on looks was just a phase. "Maybe" she muttered, sipping at her drink, her cheeks pink. She stood there gritting her teeth while the pair exchanged words in Russian. It sounded perfectly innocent but a paranoid Niamh was half sure it was about her. She'd no more than a smattering of it, mostly for work. Eyes green with envy at the effortless switching from tongues.

    "That's no trouble at all, it was a delight to meet you sir" she beamed at Petter but he was already under another witch's spell. Niamh's face fell a little. She wasn't accustomed to being passed over. Especially when the other option was over a decade her senior. Lucrezia bid her betrothed farewell before swivelling back onto Niamh. The Irishwoman's brow furrowed in puzzlement as she was told how lucky she'd been. "I wouldn't call living like a pariah for two months lucky-" she was protesting when the bombshell was dropped.

    She opened her mouth and promptly shut it again. "Attorney General" her voice flat. She bit back the urge to cover her ears and scream. Lucrezia's broadside had her demasted. "C-congratulations" she managed to get out, forcing a civil tone. Niamh didn't feel as much of a big fish anymore. She'd have loved to have gloated over a widow stuck in the same job but that wasn't going to happen. "Does that mean you're still based in North America?" say anything, anything to cover up the embarrassment.

    @Lucrezia Dionisi
     
  2. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Hell in High Heels

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    “Oh, quite. New York remains my home… for now.”

    “And yourself? Executive responsibilities seem to be treating you well,”
    she said, twirling a finger at the girl’s designer ensemble.

    “I am positively famished, however. Would you care to join me for a bite, Niamh?”

    Not that Lucrezia waited for her to agree. Her red heels clicked against the marble as she wove her way through the crowd. And judging by the smug smile that O’Rourke couldn’t see, the lawyer was certain she would follow.

    Like a good pup.

    The ring glittered like a weapon on her fingers as she pilfered a salmon canapé from one of the arrangements. Decades of practice let her enjoy the food without fear of smearing her lipstick.

    Yes, it’s a skill.

    @Niamh O'Rourke
     
  3. Dolores Muwangwa

    Dolores Muwangwa Captain, UNN Thomas Cochrane

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    “I suppose it’s to be envied, in a way,” Dolores replied, shrugging her shoulders with a playful smile. She could not imagine what her life would be like had she not been born wealthy, born with connections and favours to call in. It had certainly helped her in her youth. She may have gotten into Oxford without her parents’ help, but it would not have been quite such a sure thing. But after Oxford, she had deliberately broken away from the path set out for her. Dolores had joined the navy largely so that when she inevitably did go into politics people would not be able to accuse her of being helped up by her parents.

    “No expectations to live up to, no old family grudges. There are certain benefits to being a self-made man. Although I imagine you have some freshly made grudges of your own.” Dolores' voice was dry, her words accentuated by her distinctive Nigerian accent. Her every word and action exuded grace, in a stern, distinguished way. “Although believe me, most of us don’t listen to our parents either.” She chuckled elegantly, baring flawlessly white teeth. Caught up as she was in conversation, Dolores almost didn’t notice Natalia fall into place beside her, until she felt a telltale hand on her forearm, just before the elbow, tugging it gently so she would bend down for a kiss. Dolores turned and gave her wife a smile far more genuine than she had exhibited thus far.


    “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt darling, but Demé Valderrama has graced us with his presence, and he’s quite keen to see you.” Natalia’s voice was soft and apologetic but in a decidedly teasing way. “Did you tell him he’s an unbearable ass?” Dolores replied with an exasperated sigh, although her smirk was without venom. “I did.” Natalia raised her eyebrows as she looked up at her wife with a coyly disparaging expression. “It only encouraged him. He wants to debate you on the subject.”

    “He wants to debate every subject.” Dolores rolled her eyes derisively, “I’ll be right along. Oh, but where are my manners.” She stopped herself and turned back to Lars. “Mr Harman, this delightful lady is my wife, Natalia Amrakov.” Nat smiled and nodded politely in Lars direction. “Natalia, this is Mr Lars Harman, CEO of Harman Industries.” She gestured formally towards the businessman, and Natalia began to study him carefully with captivating emerald green eyes. “Mr Harman, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She spoke with a delicately lilting Russian accent. “I do apologise for robbing you of Dolores, but my friends are quite insistent.”

    @Lars Harman
     
    #23 Dolores Muwangwa, Jun 13, 2018
    Last edited: Jun 14, 2018
  4. Niamh O'Rourke

    Niamh O'Rourke Protogen Researcher

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    "I'm based in Dakhla" Niamh's voice showed how impressed she was with that posting. Not quite banishment to Siberia or Australia but it was bad enough. She'd come out of the whole debacle officially innocent but there'd been internal repercussions. The company had bankrolled her defense but they'd made sure that all those involved had been reprimanded. At least she'd gotten to stay on Earth, she'd heard rumours some had been sent as far out as Triton.

    "That's a few months of the year, the rest of the time I move around. I'm fortunate enough to include Paris and New York on that list". She would have gone on but Lucrezia declared her sudden bout of starvation. Niamh's mouth shut and she found herself following at her heels. The spread was the typical buffet. In her opinion it was all for show, the tastes were invariably too rich for her. Still, she did her best not to appear provincial while sampling some of the treats on offer.

    A careful bite and time to chew before she trusted herself to speak again. "Are you involved in prosecuting for this Caspian incident then? Or is it all just regret and hand wringing all round?"

    @Lucrezia Dionisi
     
  5. Shay Lockley

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    Shay watched as his mother's eyes lit up. He'd never seen this lady before - short blonde hair, all smiles, seemingly friendly. She looked important from the way she dressed and the way she spoke, but of course he couldn't be totally sure. His mother had the kind of job where she'd be forced to meet all sorts of people - from the lowest ranking government staffer all the way to the Secretary-General.

    He felt a slight prod on his back. It was his father, poking to remind him that he'd have to display his best behaviour. Definitely someone important.

    "Hilde," Emily cocked her head to one side, a wide smile spreading across her face. "It's good to see you again." And then in response to her question she answered with a small laugh, "And oh, we've only just arrived. I think the waitress has just gone back to the bar to prepare another round."

    Shay kept quiet, as his parents would expect him to until he was introduced. He glanced at the floor briefly, eyes darting across fancy leather shoes and stiletto heels.

    "Oh, I don't think you've met my husband, Damian. Hilde Matson, dear. She's with the justice department."

    Shay heard his father's voice, gruff and confident, the exact opposite of his own. "Lovely to meet you," the man said, alongside a gentle handshake, different from the usually firm ones he'd offer whilst closing a business deal.

    "And this is Shay, the younger of our two sons."

    "Ma'am," he said quietly, looking up and standing straight. He could feel the fitting shirt he wore tightening across his chest, and the collar and tie squeezing his neck just a little further.

    The first of perhaps a hundred people he'd have to meet over the course of tonight. Maybe he should just pretend he'd been struck by an acute illness. Perhaps something not quite right in the first course of their dinner. He knew he was good at faking nausea. Not so good at faking vomits, though.

    @Hilde Matson
     
  6. Hilde Matson

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    Thin lips drew into a smile. This woman was someone who had interfaced with Hilde on several occasions -- enough to chalk them up as friendly. Still, this was a relationship minefield, as it always seemed to be with office officials, so one couldn’t be too careless about who they oozed charm to. They weren’t on a friendly enough level to have invited each other into their respective homes.

    At the comment that they had just arrived, Hilde mentally relieved herself that she hadn’t missed talking to this person for too long and that they weren’t just abstaining from alcohol.

    “Well, I should hope so, heavens know we have a long night ahead.” A wink crossed her lids, and she swirled the contents of her own drink in its glass, respectfully waiting to take a sip until her present company had something in their own hands. She could feel an introduction coming on, and her golden eyes diverted gently to the two men trailing on Emily’s heels. “Oh, Emily darling, before this conversation goes any further,” she reached out to pleasantly establish physical contact, touching the Australian woman’s wrist “I have to compliment your dress. I love it when people wear colour. I feel like black is such a guarantee - there’s no boldness involved.”

    Then the introductions happened, and she extended a graceful arm forward to meet the gentleman’s palm with a shake of her own. You could tell a lot by a person’s handshake; that was a pawn’s move in any game. “Damian, so lovely to get the chance to meet you. Don’t you make a handsome pair.”

    That was two compliments out, she better damn well receive at least some in kind or Mrs. Judson was going to be cut off for the night. When the conversation shifted to pointing out that a teenager was in their midst, Hilde had to do her utmost not to quirk a judgemental brow. Could they not afford a babysitter? Was this child a prodigy of sorts? Was he part of the entertainment? Why was someone that youthful here? Or perhaps that was only a projection on her own parenting style. Her daughter was off taking third place and getting a black eye at some Jiu-Jitsu competition and that suited Hilde just fine. The less she spent with her daughter the more she could appreciate those moments between them….right? He called her ma’am and Hilde felt her chest tighten. Did she look that old? She supposed anyone over 30 automatically got a ma’am from anybody under 30 -- but it was just another reason to get those lip injections. Her eyes glossed over the boy, still wondering what he was doing here.


    “Getting into politics as soon as you can, Shay?” She cast a humorous look toward Emily and thumbed the neckline of her dress absently, leaving the answer for either of the three to respond to. In this moment, Hilde felt somewhat alone -- but her husband was busy on Luna and it would just be irresponsible for her to tote a twelve year old around here.


    Her hand returned to her side as a waitress slid up to the quartet, a brass platter in her hand with a trio of drinks clustered on it, angling toward the family as a physical address to take the contents.


    @Shay Lockley
     
  7. Shay Lockley

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    Shay watched as his mother played the game, reciprocating with similar flattering remarks. It seemed almost like protocol around here, the way these 'adults' acted in front of each other.

    It was repulsive.

    He eyed the drinks as his parents picked them up. Not that this charity gala was the appropriate place to get sloshed, but he knew his parents weren't big drinkers to begin with. Wouldn't sit well with Jesus. Their version of Jesus, of course. Despite being obviously underage, the waitress leaned forwards to offer him a glass, and he could almost feel his mother glaring down on him from behind. What God misses under his watchful eye, she will catch - or so she'd like to believe.

    He politely declined, as he'd be expected to.

    Little did they know what he would get up to outside the stifling boundaries of their home. He'd perfected the art of sneaking out, as well as sneaking back in. Anything and everything that happened in between would never travel back to his parents. All-night raves, endless alcohol, colourful pills and plenty of boys.

    But not now. Now was for being prim and proper.

    "Politics?" he let out a small, childish chuckle. "Oh, I don't know, ma'am. Not sure it's quite my thing... I don't do well in front of large audiences, and I have a feeling you have to do a lot of that as a politician."

    @Hilde Matson
     
    Lucrezia Dionisi likes this.
  8. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Hell in High Heels

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    “Oh, no,she stressed, a tinge of tragic inflection lingering on her voice. “It’s well outside my jurisdiction, I’m afraid. But I’m certain other keen minds have the situation well in hand. It’s… ah, what do they call it… open and shut?”

    Her eyes seemed nearly black as she flicked them briefly over to Niamh before impaling another canapé. The motion seemed oddly surgical.

    “I wouldn’t—”

    But whatever Lucrezia wouldn’t remained unsaid. Her soft lilt was interrupted by the New York drawl of the announcer. After breaking the ice with a few classist jokes, the man quickly moved on to remind the esteemed guests of the purpose behind the gala. Their generous donations would continue to be welcome long into the night, of course.

    “And speaking of which,” the man said with a dashing grin and gestured to the pair of winged doors that swung open either side of the hall, “I now invite you all to join me in the Blue room for an unforgettable dinner. Ladies and gentlemen; Chef Marceau!”

    As if scripted a wave of applause washed over the crowd. A pair of maîtres d’ appeared at each entrance like ghosts, directing the milling throng to their seats like shepherds would a flock of sheep.

    With a gentle smile on her lips, Lucrezia turned to Niamh again. Her hand briefly lingered on her upper arm, just below the black shoulder of the low-cut dress. “Would you like to join me and Petter at the table?”

    No matter their cool personal relations, O’Rourke was clearly set for heights of power. In a few years, when she’d look down and feel faint from the vertigo – that’s where Lucrezia would reappear with her sure smile and a supportive hand.

    That they were sitting with the Undersecretary of Justice and Deputy Undersecretary of Trade… well, that was simply what her dear Pjotr used to call vernaya lodka na vysokih vodah.


    @Niamh O'Rourke | @Dolores Muwangwa | @Hilde Matson | @Shay Lockley | @Lars Harman
     
  9. Niamh O'Rourke

    Niamh O'Rourke Protogen Researcher

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    I'd rather bash your skull in with a sharp stone. Instead it was Niamh's turn to flash a winning smile, pearly white teeth, too good to be natural. "Oh it'd be my pleasure, how kind of you to offer!". She kept the smile on her face, hiding the irritation at being touched without permission. She let Lucrezia guide her towards their seats, happily chattering away as if they were old friends.

    "Niamh!" came a voice and her head turned. "Forgive me" she murmured to Lucrezia, disentangling herself to greet a slender woman approaching them. Dark haired and eyes, a svelte figure, Niamh's fiancée made her look look like a ghost. Her expression was cool as she kissed Niamh's cheek. "You're late" was the flat accusation. "It couldn't be helped". "Well I've been waiting." "I'm aware of that." "You knew the time." "And I said I'd do my best".

    Niamh ground her teeth but her smile was delightful when she turned back to Lucrezia. Her hand held onto her betrothed. "I'm sorry Lucrezia, this is my wife to be, Nasrin. Nasrin, this is Lucrezia Dionisi, an...old friend". Nasrin gave a small smile and stuck out her hand in greeting, "I've heard of you Ms. Dionisi, mostly just through reputation" she joked.

    @Lucrezia Dionisi
     
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  10. Dolores Muwangwa

    Dolores Muwangwa Captain, UNN Thomas Cochrane

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    Dolores’ parents had made their way to the table in the sort of understated way that showed that they didn’t need to make an impression. Their reputations spoke for themselves, the Deputy Undersecretary for Trade, and the Administrative Secretary for the entire West African Trade Zone. Her father was dressed in a somewhat reserved grey suit, although as always, his tie was extravagant, decorated with a vibrant African pattern, similar to his wife’s dress. His white hair was cut so short that it almost seemed like a dusting of sugar on his head, and he was seldom without an easygoing smile. Dolores’ mother sat beside him, in a long dress of a dark but striking traditional pattern that matched the scarf she wore on her head. She sat back in her chair with the sort of effortless elegance that made it apparent just why she had earned the nickname “The Queen of Abuja.”

    Individually, they could not have looked any more dissimilar, but together, they had the chemistry of two people who had shared a long, and largely successful marriage. Dolores had long respected the strength of her Parents’ relationship. Even though they lived on opposite sides of the Atlantic, they always made sure to make time for each other. And they relished these little opportunities to spend time together. Dolores hoped that she and Natalia would be able to emulate that, as they got older.

    They had finally extricated themselves from Nat’s exuberant friends, and Dolores felt a small flush of pride in the fact that she had managed to endure Demé Valderrama and his incessant contrarianism without throttling the man. She also found herself looking forward to a good meal, accompanied by her wife, her parents, and whatever exotic strangers they found themselves sharing a table with. Dolores pulled out Nat’s seat for her, before taking a seat herself. They rested their hands together and gently conversed with Dolores’ parents for a few minutes before the new arrivals approached.

    Dolores’ father clearly recognised Lucrezia, and a smile broke across his face as she walked across the hall. “Ms Dionisi, how splendid to see you again.” He spoke, in a friendly tone, extending a firm handshake. “Although I’m not sure I’m familiar with your friend.” His attention and his bright brown eyes turned to Niamh. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” He spoke in an amiable if faintly patronising tone. “My name is Charles Muwangwa, and this is my wife, Edenausegboye, our daughter Dolores, and her wife, Natalia Amrakov.” Dolores waved momentarily, as did Natalia, embarrassment tinging her cheeks a faint pink. Edenausegboye herself, chuckled a little sitting up in her chair to greet their new friends. “I can see the panic in your eyes.” She said, with a teasing smile. “Don’t worry, you can just call me Edé, everyone does." She rose from the table, and walked around to fall in at her husband's side. "And who might you be?” She inquired, raising an eyebrow slightly in Niamh's direction. Her voice was soft as velvet and instantly disarming.

    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Niamh O'Rourke
     
    #30 Dolores Muwangwa, Jun 21, 2018
    Last edited: Jun 29, 2018
  11. Hilde Matson

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    For the briefest of moments, Hilde’s lips pursed at the youth’s response. It was funny, all the different ways someone could be a politician. Of course there were the ones with showy displays of power but if you were worth any weight in gold, you knew the real pressure was applied behind closed doors. There was a rap song, back in the 21st century, that claimed there were real folks who don’t tell folks what they up to. Some words substituted, of course.


    “Depends on the politician.” The woman finally replied, taking a sip and lifting attention to the announcement of dinner being served.


    Good. Food in her belly meant she could have more drinks, not on an empty stomach.

    “Let’s not keep our hostess and the culinary geniuses waiting, shall we?” The woman encouraged, taking the first step to the impressively set tables. Light eyes danced over designated seats, recognizing her spot was in a spot where many would whisper as an honour. What it really meant was schmoozing and handshakes over dinner rolls.

    “Such a beautifully decadent evening,” Mrs. Matson greeted the brunette hostess, making a physical effort to reach out. “I don’t think I’ve had a martini quite as well shaken in a while.”
     
  12. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Hell in High Heels

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    @Niamh O'Rourke | @Dolores Muwangwa | @Hilde Matson

    Her quaint little smile was the only indication she was listening to the subdued bickering of the two women. Oh, first-time marriage… She tilted her head at Petter with an amused glint in her eye and waited for his subtle nod.

    Right on time; Lucrezia turned to receive Nasrin with a welcoming handshake of her own. By god, how she loved this game. “A friend of Niamh’s a friend of mine. This really ought to happen in Zürich next year. The weather is so much nicer there, wouldn’t you agree?”

    Petter’s hand on the small of her back was her only warning before a familiar voice rang out behind her. Lucrezia returned the same polite greetings and the same polished smile. Her brown eyes danced as she took her seat at the circular table, watching everyone settle down.

    The introductions were hers to make now. The cards she chose to lay down would determine the course of their play for the evening.

    Ah, power.

    “I confess... When you accepted my invitations, I didn’t expect all of you would actually come.” She let out a lilting laugh before settling a semblance of seriousness over her features. “Nonetheless, I am glad and grateful for it. It’s a great honor to have such esteemed guests grace this humble event. I trust the United Nations will manage without you for one night.”

    Her gaze swept over every last one of them at the table; met each pair of eyes. The elite of elite, right at her fingertips. Times like these she wished she could just… squeeze.

    “While I’m sure the wonderful wine selection will make us all delightfully mellow in a few minutes, let me ease the transition, shall I? Our jobs can be so stressful.” If Lucrezia hadn’t had so much practice over the course of her career, her cheeks would already be burning from the perfect smile.

    “The young couple joining us tonight – besides your daughter and her beautiful wife, of course,”
    she nodded to Charles and Edé without missing a beat, “are Niamh and her fiancée Nasrin. Miss O’Rourke is an old acquaintance of mine, but recent events have led us to rekindle our professional relationship. Time and again our lives are made richer by serendipity.”

    And their pockets, too. If Niamh had any kind of mind for business, she would grab the lie with both hands and run as far as she could with it.

    But Lucrezia, who never played chess if it wasn’t with the lives of others… she would hold Niamh in check with it for the rest of her life.
     
    #32 Lucrezia Dionisi, Jun 23, 2018
    Last edited: Jun 30, 2018
  13. Niamh O'Rourke

    Niamh O'Rourke Protogen Researcher

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    Niamh forced a smile on her face while Nasrin exchanged pleasantries with Lucrezia and Petter. What a two faced snake. She kept her expression serene while Lucrezia then turned to greet the others joining their table. She had a feeling that this evening was going to drag. More false smiles, fake laughs, and empty promises. Playing the game could get very tiring. It didn't comfort her to know that another fifty to sixty years of it was ahead of her.

    Niamh beamed, flashing artificially white teeth. She shook hands with Edenausegboye, "Niamh O'Rourke, I'm a project manager at Protogen" a white lie for someone who still had to head a project of her own but there was no harm embellishing the truth a little. "I'm normally at one of our research stations in the west Sahara so forgive any boorishness, we don't see many people outside the company" she joked, pulling out a seat for Nasrin to sit before herself.

    She laughed a little and nodded at Lucrezia's words, already slipping into character. "True. I was ridiculously young and headstrong when we first met. It's always nice to have someone like a mentor to watch out for you". Another bright smile, "And where are youse hailing from? It's a delight to have so many new faces here".

    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Dolores Muwangwa
     
  14. Shay Lockley

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    Shay must admit that the food looked sumptuous. His parents weren't big (nor particularly good) cooks, and so he'd grown up accustomed to eating out quite often. Both quick and cheap, and expensive and elaborate. Cuisine from all over the world, except from Mars. Hardly any of the dishes they'd try would be from Mars.

    Not that they'd have the creativity to make anything original anyway, his father had once said. They import all our ideas from Earth, spin it around and call it their own.

    The conversation would usually descend into a tirade of how Mars would've retained is dusty, lifeless character if it hadn't been for advances in science and technology, all of which were borne out of the minds of Earthers. Shay had heard enough of his father's diatribes to automatically turn off, saving himself from the same bitter words uttered by someone trapped within the old 'us versus them' mindset typical of men his age. Shay hoped it would be his generation that would rise above the system-wide animosity and create an actual peace between their worlds.

    "Come on," he heard his mother hiss at him. "Sit properly. Straighten your back."

    Shay obeyed, just before he caught a glimpse of @Hilde Matson looking at him from across the table.

    He decided to ask her, "So, do you like your job, ma'am?"

    @Hilde Matson
     
  15. Dolores Muwangwa

    Dolores Muwangwa Captain, UNN Thomas Cochrane

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    “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear,” Charles replied to Lucrezia with a reassuring grin. “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. And besides, I'm sure our assistants will call us if civilisation starts to collapse.” He let out a resounding chuckle, glanced about the hall. “Of course, you’re no bit player either these days.” He remarked, raising a snow-white eyebrow. “Look at you now, eh? Attorney General of New York. Very impressive, my dear. Congratulations.”

    Edé, meanwhile, studied Niamh with a quiet smile that betrayed nothing but a faint sense of superiority. Good Lord, but they truly have sat me with the minnows, She noted, her amusement not even translating into a smirk. Christ, we’re only even here because that Dionisi woman stood out when Charles did that bloody lecture tour. She suppressed a roll of her eyes. Nothing but a damned ego trip, the length and breadth of the British Isles. And that ludicrous moustache of his back then… She halted her internal grumbling, recognising it for the indulgence it was, and got back to studying this curious Irish Scientist standing so brazenly before her. That Niamh hadn’t heard of her actually caught Edé a little off guard. She was used to everyone knowing her the second she entered the room. Introductions were rarely anything more than a formality. She didn’t know whether to be refreshed or insulted. The girl worked for Protogen though, which explained a little. I’d be surprised if half of those shut-ins knew what year it was. With that said, for a reclusive scientist, she certainly seemed to be dressing to make an impact.

    “Well, I am presently serving as Executive Secretary for the West African Shared Interest Zone, so I’m actually quite familiar with Protogen’s operations in the region,” Edé spoke with an easy confidence that was absolutely meant to send a message. In truth, she only had a passing knowledge of the laboratory. Protogen’s reputation for secrecy was certainly well-earned indeed. But she was likely more aware of the corporation’s dealings than most. And besides, where else could one embellish one’s status if not at a Charity Gala? “My Husband here is the Deputy Undersecretary for Trade, so he spends most of his time here in New York,the poor devil.” Edé smirked, and Charles chuckled obligingly. “And then of course,” Charles took his turn to speak, his voice deep, resonant and amiable, “our dear Dolores is presently serving with the United Nations Navy.” Dolores nodded her head as her name was called out, and smiled almost imperceptibly. “She’s the executive officer on the UNN Nanking.” There was pride in the old man’s voice. His chest swelled a little. Dolores didn’t exactly enjoy it when her father used her career as a mark in his own favour, but she wouldn’t begrudge the old man a little paternal pride. “And our darling Ms Amrakov is a Lecturer in Classical Music at Columbia.” He gestured towards Natalia, and she blushed a little, waving across the table at Niamh.

    “Well, I think that’s enough introductions for now.” Edé interjected, putting a hand on her husband’s arm. “Come, let us take our seats, and have some proper conversation,” she beamed, walking around the table, and waiting for Charles to pull her chair out for her. Once they were all seated, Edé leaned forwards, and grinned at Lucrezia and Niamh “So, how did the two of you get acquainted? A mysterious Protogen scientist and a high-powered lawyer? I imagine that’s quite a story.” She gave them both a look that was simultaneously intimidating and mischievous. It was a look that said if you lie to me, I won’t make anything of it, we’re at a party after all, but I will know.

    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Niamh O'Rourke
     
    #35 Dolores Muwangwa, Jun 30, 2018
    Last edited: Nov 26, 2018
  16. Hilde Matson

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    Hilde’s breast rose and fell with a brief titter at @Lucrezia Dionisi humbly exuded appreciation for their attendance.


    The group took their seat, and the teenager posed a question toward her as the other adults introduced themselves and all their counterparts. Her lips pursed ever-so-slightly at the connotation of the word job. That sounded temporary. Hilde liked to think of herself as a career woman, who was part of the judicial system to improve it and keep it straight. A job was her secretary.


    “It keeps me busy -- there’s always something that needs to be weighed.” Ah, the proverbial scales of justice. “How’s high school treating you, not too much teenage angst I hope?” @Shay Lockley.


    The oscars were one thing; charity balls were another. They should have all walked out gripping golden statues of naked men.


    Instead, Mrs. Matson was gripping a gin martini. She’d probably leave with it, too. Sans the naked man.


    Maybe.


    Everyone seemed to attending with backup. Was Hilde the only brave enough to venture out of the house solo? Nevertheless, while introductions were made back and forth etcetera she observed and noted. It wasn’t uncommon for businessmen and women to cross pollinate with those from a political background; after all, when everything was boiled down to the brass tacks it was all business, wasn’t it? The businesses that showed up alongside the leaders of the free world (planet) were usually pretty disastrous and arguably had more pull than the politicians. Closed doors, and all that.


    “What sorts of projects are currently in your managing portfolio, Mrs. O’Rourke?” (@Niamh O'Rourke) Probably something sketchy, considering the ties to legal that had just been identified. Her question was smoothly tacked to the end of @Dolores Muwangwa’s.
     
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  17. Lucrezia Dionisi

    Lucrezia Dionisi Hell in High Heels

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    Bio
    “Nothing quite so riveting, I’m afraid,” Lucrezia slithered back into the conversation, smooth as snake. It had been a delight just basking in the glittering veneer and masks they all put on, but now Edé was beginning to slink into murkier waters. None of that, tonight.

    Preferably ever.

    “Closer to the tragedy we’re helping mollify tonight, in fact,” she gestured to one of the screens in the large space. Tastefully moving images of the disaster in the Caspian region, accompanied by a few pathetic epitaphs. Someone’s overpaid copywriter had certainly earned their keep.

    “It was in my period of transition away from corporate affairs,” she continued, telling the truth for a change. “Miss O’Rourke was one of the first victims of such terrible fallout that I had the honor of representing.” Also not a lie. What a wonder, stringing two honest sentences together. It couldn’t last, surely.

    As @Hilde Matson joined in on the impromptu interrogation, Lucrezia easily abandoned Niamh to fend for herself, directing her attention instead to the sommelier that had materialized next to her. She ordered a few choice vintages to accompany the amuse-bouche that other waiters were currently delivering to their table.

    An arrangement of fish and algae – real fish and algae, grown in real water, fed with real food. Pure decadence.

    Lucrezia revelled in it.

    @Niamh O'Rourke | @Dolores Muwangwa
     
  18. Shay Lockley

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    Bio
    Shay let a brief moment of annoyance simmer when the lady mentioned the word 'angst'.

    He found the description patronising, and seemed to be a common theme amongst adults when describing young people of his age group. Like none of their problems in life were worth considering. At least he knew it'd be his generation that will sew the seeds of friendlier relations between Earth and Mars, unlike those of hers who seek division, and go about it through greed and encouraging the maldistribution of the system's riches. Exactly the kind of work his father, and the corporate giant he controls, engages in.

    But he let it off with a small smile. "No, not too much," he answered, almost gracefully, in a way that one might not expect of a fifteen year old boy. "And as for your job keeping you busy... what exactly do you do all day?" he feigned interest. He knew she was the Undersecretary of Justice, but refrained from openly questioning whether she understood what justice really meant.

    @Hilde Matson
     
  19. Dolores Muwangwa

    Dolores Muwangwa Captain, UNN Thomas Cochrane

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    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Niamh O'Rourke

    “Ah.” Edé remarked dryly, her intonation perfectly conveying both disappointment and dubiousness in a single syllable. “Well, that’s a pity.” Her smile was at once regal and maternal, comforting and superior, but there was also a faint element of teasing to it. I know exactly the sort of thing you’ve been up to, my dear. It said, without saying a word. All you’re doing is pissing me about on the details. And that’s the sort of thing I remember. “A nice thrilling bit of legal drama, might have livened up the evening a mite. God knows it could do with a bit of livening up.” She chuckled, and shot a wry glance around the room. “No offense, Lucrezia darling, but when you’ve been to as many of these affairs as I have… well, to be completely honest they all start to blend together.” She chuckled, walking her wine around the glass, watching the thin, translucent legs slowly trickle their way down into the golden pool at the bottom of the glass. “I swear, sometimes I need to prepare flash cards just to remember what cause we’re so nobly drinking preposterously expensive wine to aid.” She smiled again, just as regally, her dark brown eyes gleaming like polished mahogany. “Although I never forget a face.”

    At that, Charles chuckled himself. His laugh was more warm, more genuine, although perhaps he just had a bit more practice. He put a hand on his wife’s arm and gave her something of a mollifying look. Stop tormenting them. He said, with his wife’s same knack for speaking without saying a word. Edé smiled a gentler smile and sat back in her chair. Dolores meanwhile, watched the whole affair with the sort of resigned expression that was reserved only for the children of parents who bring their work home with them.
     
  20. Niamh O'Rourke

    Niamh O'Rourke Protogen Researcher

    Messages:
    65
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    Bio
    Niamh gave a polite smile. Protogen appeared on the stock exchange, it feigned openness and friendship but few got beyond the surface. They were open about their operations insofar as they would admit to having a presence in a region. Details beyond that were seldom forthcoming. Polite smiles and vague statements that neither confirmed or denied anything.

    "The wine is just one of the attractions to pull dignitaries here" she ventured before wincing at some of the images chosen to illustrate the ecological disaster currently afflicting the Caspian region. She'd seen some of the more visceral ones. They were not as suitable for public viewing. Nor were they helpful with one's appetite.

    "There are decontamination teams and impact specialists on site but this could be a decade's work to manage".

    @Lucrezia Dionisi @Dolores Muwangwa
     
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