Helena was not particularly patient for these kinds of events, but it was a useful distraction. Not that she couldn’t have simply walked straight into Baccarat with her questions and curiosity, but generally such direct behaviour drew alarm. She had learned somewhat from her court case; understood that some facets of her personality others found entirely too abrasive. It was why she insisted on Natalie’s company tonight, allowing the other woman to pave a path that allowed Helena to exist amidst the soiree without scrutiny. She watched those around them, and partook of the conversation when she must, but she was looking for a few faces in particular, and let Natalie's charm deal with the rest.
She’d purchased Almaz because it suited her needs, not because she cared for violence or criminal activity. But given its clientele, it had proven an interesting tool for underworld gossip. Most of it Helena paid no mind to, else actively disdained. The di inferi itself had plenty of their own fairytales and superstitions, and she was accustomed to filtering out the ridiculous – and the useless. Stories abounded in the dark especially, each more outlandish than the last. But one Almaz rumour she had analysed with some interest – concerning the fire which had raged in these very halls. And why.
Helena had known since she’d found him that her husband’s death had been unnatural. She had no feelings of vengeance, but she did have a desire to peel back the layers of this world and understand the currents of power hidden from sight. She did not yet know why he had been murdered, but by now she had a sense of the possible perpetrators. The government was quite open about the notion of terrorists in their midst, killers who would take the life of a channeler in some misguided sense of justice or balance, because it was what they had been indoctrinated to believe. And of course Helena knew something about cults. If such a society of assassins existed, she had no interest in its hunters. If she were to uncover this beast at all, it was only the head she wanted. And clearly that meant she would need to follow the money.
Hence, Baccarat.
As someone joined them, Helena waved away the offered canapes. Was a familial recipe supposed to make it enticing? Endearing? She neither knew nor cared. Though she did have a vested interest in Eliot Lagueux’s bloodline. For that reason she did smile, and turned with interest into his company. He gave a very old-fashioned bow, and Helena extended a hand for him to place a kiss if he wished. She did not like touch as a rule, but she was making the effort to be friendly.
“Northbrook, actually,” Natalie said beside her, with a small and amused smile. The correction did not sound like a reprimand, though it should have been – it was quite the social faux pas. Perhaps Eliot intended to point it out though, that connection of her father; Helena neither knew nor cared. She felt Natalie’s attention on her briefly, noting the change in her behaviour – for Helena had been nothing but aloof with every other conversant this evening – but she ignored it. This man looked sickly, emaciated and drawn – the sort of penitent Helena had often seen at her father’s door in her youth.
“You must be pleased to finally be finished with the repairs,” she said genially. “They have taken quite some time.”
She’d purchased Almaz because it suited her needs, not because she cared for violence or criminal activity. But given its clientele, it had proven an interesting tool for underworld gossip. Most of it Helena paid no mind to, else actively disdained. The di inferi itself had plenty of their own fairytales and superstitions, and she was accustomed to filtering out the ridiculous – and the useless. Stories abounded in the dark especially, each more outlandish than the last. But one Almaz rumour she had analysed with some interest – concerning the fire which had raged in these very halls. And why.
Helena had known since she’d found him that her husband’s death had been unnatural. She had no feelings of vengeance, but she did have a desire to peel back the layers of this world and understand the currents of power hidden from sight. She did not yet know why he had been murdered, but by now she had a sense of the possible perpetrators. The government was quite open about the notion of terrorists in their midst, killers who would take the life of a channeler in some misguided sense of justice or balance, because it was what they had been indoctrinated to believe. And of course Helena knew something about cults. If such a society of assassins existed, she had no interest in its hunters. If she were to uncover this beast at all, it was only the head she wanted. And clearly that meant she would need to follow the money.
Hence, Baccarat.
As someone joined them, Helena waved away the offered canapes. Was a familial recipe supposed to make it enticing? Endearing? She neither knew nor cared. Though she did have a vested interest in Eliot Lagueux’s bloodline. For that reason she did smile, and turned with interest into his company. He gave a very old-fashioned bow, and Helena extended a hand for him to place a kiss if he wished. She did not like touch as a rule, but she was making the effort to be friendly.
“Northbrook, actually,” Natalie said beside her, with a small and amused smile. The correction did not sound like a reprimand, though it should have been – it was quite the social faux pas. Perhaps Eliot intended to point it out though, that connection of her father; Helena neither knew nor cared. She felt Natalie’s attention on her briefly, noting the change in her behaviour – for Helena had been nothing but aloof with every other conversant this evening – but she ignored it. This man looked sickly, emaciated and drawn – the sort of penitent Helena had often seen at her father’s door in her youth.
“You must be pleased to finally be finished with the repairs,” she said genially. “They have taken quite some time.”
![[Image: helena.talin_.klotho-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/helena.talin_.klotho-scaled.jpg)