Yesterday, 01:13 PM
In many ways it was fortunate Colette found her at that moment. Because despite Grisha’s plea, and despite how her absence would be noted, Sofia still considered following Noémi. The tension in her chest pushed haughtiness into her expression, and the longer she lingered on the intrusion the angrier she got. It had been a mercy paying the bitch off the first time, rather than simply enacting a more permanent solution – for it wasn’t like the Vasilievs lacked the resources to make an inconvenience disappear when they desired it. Given that, the audacity it took to show her face again might have actually been admirable if it wasn’t her brother’s heart she was playing with. Rooted to the spot by Colette's gentle presence, Sofia considered what needed to be done about it this time. By Brandon’s stolen glances, subtle enough to miss if she hadn’t been dancing in his arms at the time, Noémi had gone on to dig her claws in far higher. It burned Sofia with venom, but even in wrath she was not without calculation.
The light began to pulse inside her, in time to her angry heartbeat, and she knew she could wield it now if she wished. The cut of her attention sought Cyrena almost naturally as she felt those stirrings of power. That seemed inconsequential now, but Sofia with her hands tied by propriety was never a pleasant prospect. And she just disliked her.
She looped her arm in Colette’s. For now they were all bound in place by the Ascendancy’s speech, and she listened with a poise that betrayed nothing of her vicious thoughts. She’d known Uncle Sulteev’s retirement was imminent, though not necessarily that it would be announced tonight. The new Dominance, though, was a surprise. Who the fuck was Damien Oakland? Clearly he couldn’t even be bothered to show his face at his own inauguration, and she was not ignorant of the slight levelled against her family by his absence – intentional or otherwise. In his stead Sofia’s gaze raked Jessika Thrice. The woman had whore written all over her.
The room began to buzz again. Who knew where the fuck Adrian was, but Sofia saw exactly where Zixin went. It spiked her jealousy in a way that sharpened her eyes to daggers, and she didn’t care to hide either her judgement or her attention.
But she only turned to Colette, and first whispered a question unrelated to any of it. “Who were you dancing with?”
The light began to pulse inside her, in time to her angry heartbeat, and she knew she could wield it now if she wished. The cut of her attention sought Cyrena almost naturally as she felt those stirrings of power. That seemed inconsequential now, but Sofia with her hands tied by propriety was never a pleasant prospect. And she just disliked her.
She looped her arm in Colette’s. For now they were all bound in place by the Ascendancy’s speech, and she listened with a poise that betrayed nothing of her vicious thoughts. She’d known Uncle Sulteev’s retirement was imminent, though not necessarily that it would be announced tonight. The new Dominance, though, was a surprise. Who the fuck was Damien Oakland? Clearly he couldn’t even be bothered to show his face at his own inauguration, and she was not ignorant of the slight levelled against her family by his absence – intentional or otherwise. In his stead Sofia’s gaze raked Jessika Thrice. The woman had whore written all over her.
The room began to buzz again. Who knew where the fuck Adrian was, but Sofia saw exactly where Zixin went. It spiked her jealousy in a way that sharpened her eyes to daggers, and she didn’t care to hide either her judgement or her attention.
But she only turned to Colette, and first whispered a question unrelated to any of it. “Who were you dancing with?”
![[Image: vasiliev--scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/vasiliev--scaled.jpg)