06-01-2018, 07:19 AM
Oriena was dressed surprisingly demurely this evening. Lace capped shoulders fell into a queen anne neckline, the deep plum of spilled wine, and her black hair was swept into a chignon. Scion Marveet's scrutiny was met with the blithe ignorance of the innocent, though she wondered what amends Jaxen had made to earn the favour of his pockets once more -- or, given the threat, perhaps that was an ongoing process. The flicker of a smile ghosted her lips, but she remained silent during the journey.
She came here without premeditation, exactly, but with a tingle in her skin that nonetheless gave her an expectation for... something. The last time Jaxen had dragged her to a party she had been unwilling, and resentful of the distraction from why she'd actually followed him home. This time the destination drew her like curious moth to flame. Ratting out the Atharim from their nest had had a disappointing lack of consequence, so now she moved to pastures new. Determined to stir a reaction.
"You are a proper princess, Jaxen. Don't let daddy or anyone else tell you otherwise,"
A low hum of laughter left her throat as they assessed the room. The grandeur washed over her with irritation as she noted the faces she recognised, and the shadows and secrets she attached to each. It was currency to her; she didn't forget. Still, there were some surprises amongst the usual dross; two so far, to be exact. It might make for an interesting evening.
"Let them pretend. It didn't end well back then. It won't end well now."
Not a threat so much as a promise, casually spoken. Though she meant it. Russia was built on blood, and sooner or later her true nature would resurface. A suppressed smirk flickered Ori's lips, to outside eyes as though the hot breath in her ear were little more than sweet nothings. "You know I can't resist a game."
She doubted subtly would be the flavour of the night, not at such a showcase as this -- with smoke already wreathing and winding as if from nothing, presumably awaiting the Ascendancy's grand entrance and as such of little interest to Ori. She could tell at a glance which women had the power, but didn't bother to admit it. Men in black snaked through the guests, set apart from the usual security; she could hazard a guess what that might mean. Plenty of easy targets. A powder-keg if they so desired to ignite it. But she was curious to see who he might choose. "Take your pick, my prince."
She came here without premeditation, exactly, but with a tingle in her skin that nonetheless gave her an expectation for... something. The last time Jaxen had dragged her to a party she had been unwilling, and resentful of the distraction from why she'd actually followed him home. This time the destination drew her like curious moth to flame. Ratting out the Atharim from their nest had had a disappointing lack of consequence, so now she moved to pastures new. Determined to stir a reaction.
"You are a proper princess, Jaxen. Don't let daddy or anyone else tell you otherwise,"
A low hum of laughter left her throat as they assessed the room. The grandeur washed over her with irritation as she noted the faces she recognised, and the shadows and secrets she attached to each. It was currency to her; she didn't forget. Still, there were some surprises amongst the usual dross; two so far, to be exact. It might make for an interesting evening.
"Let them pretend. It didn't end well back then. It won't end well now."
Not a threat so much as a promise, casually spoken. Though she meant it. Russia was built on blood, and sooner or later her true nature would resurface. A suppressed smirk flickered Ori's lips, to outside eyes as though the hot breath in her ear were little more than sweet nothings. "You know I can't resist a game."
She doubted subtly would be the flavour of the night, not at such a showcase as this -- with smoke already wreathing and winding as if from nothing, presumably awaiting the Ascendancy's grand entrance and as such of little interest to Ori. She could tell at a glance which women had the power, but didn't bother to admit it. Men in black snaked through the guests, set apart from the usual security; she could hazard a guess what that might mean. Plenty of easy targets. A powder-keg if they so desired to ignite it. But she was curious to see who he might choose. "Take your pick, my prince."
![[Image: orianderis.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/orianderis.jpg)