Searching (Radiance)

[Jaxen Marveet]

Zoë Marveet

Zoe had chosen her seat at random. The corner of the lobby bar offered a polished mirror behind the shelves and a long view of the room without placing her at its center. She sat angled slightly away from the room, one elbow resting lightly against the bar, a Negroni cupped in her hand as if it were something precious rather than merely familiar. The deep red caught the light when she turned the glass, and the scent of orange peel rose each time she lifted it. It was her favorite.

She wore black, as she often did, but not in mourning. The jacket fit close to her frame, its shoulders traced with intricate silver embroidery, crystals, and stones that caught and fractured the light like frost on dark glass. The detailing flowed down her back and arms more art than ornament. Her hair was cut short, roots dark but dyed pale, almost white under the bar lighting, and held back by a slim black band. When she turned her head, sharp eyes lined in dark makeup took in everything without seeming to linger.

Zoe listened, not overtly, to the conversation nearby. She had learned long ago that attention was most effective when it went unnoticed. She heard Adrian introduce himself with the authority someone accustomed to owning rooms simply by standing in them. She heard Olivier Volthström (oh, la la, a Volthstrom) respond all measured and polite.

She took a slow sip of her drink, the bitterness grounding her as she let the conversation wash over her senses. Adrian’s voice carried intention beneath courtesy. Zoe knew the type. Her adopted father, Scion had taught her to recognize them, if not always deliberately, but the disappointing thing about his adopted daughter was that she usually didn't care about powerful people.

Few people understood why Scion Marveet had taken in a child who bore none of his blood. Fewer still asked her directly. At family gatherings, speculation always followed, drifting just out of reach. Zoe had long since learned to move through it without breathing too deeply. She was Marveet in name, in loyalty, in practice, even if some part of her always felt just a step aside from the center of the circle.

Perhaps that was why she listened so well. It made her curious, and conflict made her uneasy. Her gaze flicked none too subtly toward Adrian and Olivier, mostly curious, and half-bored.

"The Negroni's are good," she agreed, throwing a wink at the bartender when he was complimented.