11-28-2025, 08:14 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-28-2025, 08:15 PM by Ozymandias Kassim.)
Ozy watched Elend speak the way a cat watches a bird that won’t quite fly, with mild curiosity dulled by certainty. Whatever rivalry once burned between them had long ago guttered out on Ozy’s end, leaving only embers that glowed when poked. Elend wasn’t a challenge tonight. Not really. The real sport was minimal.
Still… the night was young, the club obedient, and Ozy found himself without a better distraction.
“Oslo,” he repeated, tone smooth. He leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on the rim of his glass. “Remind me to remember to visit Oslo.” His eyes flicked to the woman without really seeing her. “Where exactly is that again? All those European cities blur together. Too many vowels. Not enough culture.”
The woman flushed, uncertain whether to laugh. Ozy sighed inwardly. Is this all he’s brought me tonight?
Elend’s little provocation barely registered. It slid across Ozy’s awareness like a pebble tossed at a marble statue. Annoying, but not impactful. If anything, it was quaint. People always talked about him. In circles that mattered. In circles that didn’t. In circles he would never deign to stand inside. Still, they talked.
“There are always rumors about me,” Ozy said with a slow, knowing smile that gleamed under the lights. He lifted his glass in a small, dismissive salute.
The truth was that gossip was oxygen something he breathed in deeply and exhaled with purpose. Attention was his element, its currents predictable and warm. Elend thought he understood that game. Perhaps once he had. Tonight, the man seemed dulled, wandering mentally even as he smirked.
A pity. Ozy had come prepared to play. His gaze drifted intentionally to the woman. Past her. Away from her. Then back again, soft as a brushstroke. She straightened. Her breath caught, lips parting as she shifted subtly toward him. A simple thing. A predictable thing.
It bored him. No, that wasn’t quite true. It pleased him in a small, forgettable way, the way an early chess victory did. But it did not enthrall him.
“You travel far for your… hobbies,” Ozy said, waving a hand lazily as if brushing away a cobweb of conversation. “The world is full of interesting indulgences. But honestly?” His smile thinned. “The real decadence is right here.” He spread his hands like a king presiding over a kingdom. "So what took you to Oslo and back again?"
Still… the night was young, the club obedient, and Ozy found himself without a better distraction.
“Oslo,” he repeated, tone smooth. He leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on the rim of his glass. “Remind me to remember to visit Oslo.” His eyes flicked to the woman without really seeing her. “Where exactly is that again? All those European cities blur together. Too many vowels. Not enough culture.”
The woman flushed, uncertain whether to laugh. Ozy sighed inwardly. Is this all he’s brought me tonight?
Elend’s little provocation barely registered. It slid across Ozy’s awareness like a pebble tossed at a marble statue. Annoying, but not impactful. If anything, it was quaint. People always talked about him. In circles that mattered. In circles that didn’t. In circles he would never deign to stand inside. Still, they talked.
“There are always rumors about me,” Ozy said with a slow, knowing smile that gleamed under the lights. He lifted his glass in a small, dismissive salute.
The truth was that gossip was oxygen something he breathed in deeply and exhaled with purpose. Attention was his element, its currents predictable and warm. Elend thought he understood that game. Perhaps once he had. Tonight, the man seemed dulled, wandering mentally even as he smirked.
A pity. Ozy had come prepared to play. His gaze drifted intentionally to the woman. Past her. Away from her. Then back again, soft as a brushstroke. She straightened. Her breath caught, lips parting as she shifted subtly toward him. A simple thing. A predictable thing.
It bored him. No, that wasn’t quite true. It pleased him in a small, forgettable way, the way an early chess victory did. But it did not enthrall him.
“You travel far for your… hobbies,” Ozy said, waving a hand lazily as if brushing away a cobweb of conversation. “The world is full of interesting indulgences. But honestly?” His smile thinned. “The real decadence is right here.” He spread his hands like a king presiding over a kingdom. "So what took you to Oslo and back again?"