01-02-2024, 09:25 PM
Daniil Tarasovich stood near the grand staircase of Kuskovo’s Estate, position placing him as another figure woven into the tapestry of the party. His eyes, a pale and mesmerizing blue, scanned the room from behind an ornate mask that seemed to accentuate his otherworldly features. The mask was black and gold, and looked sharp positioned above an otherwise classic tuxedo, signifying his impeccable taste and the wealth that backed it.
Around him, the elite of Moscow mingled, their conversations blurring ambition, intrigue, and flounces of power. Daniil, however, remained slightly aloof, his gaze fixed toward the entrance. His lips, full and perfectly shaped, curved into a knowing smile as he anticipated the arrival of his father, Myshelov, in the company of the Ascendancy.
As the pair made their grand entrance, a ripple of excitement passed through those around them. Daniil observed the scene with a predator’s patience, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in every detail. Oh, the change in demeanor was subtle. Nobody wanted to be caught gawking, but they gawked nonetheless. He watched his father, noting the flamboyance of his attire, and then his gaze shifted to the Ascendancy, assessing the man’s understated power.
He spoke to his date as he watched others approach the two men. She was a vision of elegance, her dress a complement to her own ornate mask. "Elena,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, "do you see how they flock to the Ascendancy, like moths to a flame?”
Elena, her eyes following his gaze, nodded. "It's quite the spectacle, Daniil. But then, isn't that what we're all here for?"
He smiled, a gesture that seemed to light up his face, yet there was a calculative gleam in his eyes. “Some of us are more than mere spectators.” His gaze flickered back to the crowd, taking in every detail.
At that moment, a well-dressed gentleman approached, his eyes bright with recognition. "Daniil Tarasovich, you're as elusive as ever," he said, offering a handshake.
Daniil's grip was firm, his demeanor effortless. He greeted with a smile that never quite reached his eyes, his words carefully chosen. ”Alexei Mikhailovich, always a pleasure. Tell me, what's your take on tonight's... festivities?"
Alexei glanced towards Nikolai and Myshelov, a hint of awe in his tone. "It's an impressive gathering. The Ascendancy's presence has certainly elevated the evening."
Daniil's lips curved into a sly smile. "Elevated or complicated?” He paused, letting the question hang in the air. Each sipped their champagne and none answered.
Around him, the elite of Moscow mingled, their conversations blurring ambition, intrigue, and flounces of power. Daniil, however, remained slightly aloof, his gaze fixed toward the entrance. His lips, full and perfectly shaped, curved into a knowing smile as he anticipated the arrival of his father, Myshelov, in the company of the Ascendancy.
As the pair made their grand entrance, a ripple of excitement passed through those around them. Daniil observed the scene with a predator’s patience, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in every detail. Oh, the change in demeanor was subtle. Nobody wanted to be caught gawking, but they gawked nonetheless. He watched his father, noting the flamboyance of his attire, and then his gaze shifted to the Ascendancy, assessing the man’s understated power.
He spoke to his date as he watched others approach the two men. She was a vision of elegance, her dress a complement to her own ornate mask. "Elena,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, "do you see how they flock to the Ascendancy, like moths to a flame?”
Elena, her eyes following his gaze, nodded. "It's quite the spectacle, Daniil. But then, isn't that what we're all here for?"
He smiled, a gesture that seemed to light up his face, yet there was a calculative gleam in his eyes. “Some of us are more than mere spectators.” His gaze flickered back to the crowd, taking in every detail.
At that moment, a well-dressed gentleman approached, his eyes bright with recognition. "Daniil Tarasovich, you're as elusive as ever," he said, offering a handshake.
Daniil's grip was firm, his demeanor effortless. He greeted with a smile that never quite reached his eyes, his words carefully chosen. ”Alexei Mikhailovich, always a pleasure. Tell me, what's your take on tonight's... festivities?"
Alexei glanced towards Nikolai and Myshelov, a hint of awe in his tone. "It's an impressive gathering. The Ascendancy's presence has certainly elevated the evening."
Daniil's lips curved into a sly smile. "Elevated or complicated?” He paused, letting the question hang in the air. Each sipped their champagne and none answered.