Her ladyship’s coffee-coloured hands were already moving. Unerring and sure, they clasped a decanter and collected a glass from the shining forest on one of the tables - how drunk was the redoubtable sorceress? The ring of crystal on crystal was loud in the stillness, and dark liquid sloshed with abandon into the waiting glass – and then over the rim for a moment, prompting a giggle of surprise from Elena. Perhaps a little more tipsy than she first appeared.
A tongue, pink even in the gloom, darted out and licked at her wet hand, and a smile flashed out, broad and white and alcoholically unconcerned. “Ah, but you don’t drink, do you? Never mind! I shall drink for both of us!”
Before Alses could protest, or somehow contrive to get the glass away from her, Elena had drunk off a good quarter of it as though it were water.
‘Why is it,’ Alses thought, in the suddenly-foggy and mist-wreathed vaults of her mind, ‘That Elena Lariat’s even more unsettling and difficult when she’s drunk and can’t use most of her magic?’
This was not a comforting thought – especially when Alses looked up and saw that catlike grin curving up the lady’s face, and the half-lidded eyes gazing over the rim of the glass that promised – stickiness.
“Come, you know the protocol by now,” came the imperious command. Was it cargoed with something extra? Surely not – but in the strange, exotic atmosphere, wreathed in incense-smoke and alcohol, it was difficult to tell. Did it...matter?
There was stubbornness in the aura, the dominant emotion – although only just, a fresh and new layer over a boiling charivari of other things she didn’t care to look too closely at – and a stubborn Elena Lariat was not a pliable and pleasant Elena Lariat, nor one who’d be amenable to writing a recommendation.
‘We made this bed,’ Alses chanted to herself, ‘Now we have to lie in it. I think that’s the saying, anyway.’
Gingerly, Alses lowered herself onto the very edge of the divan, as far away as was humanly possible from Elena’s extravagantly sprawled-out form, bolt upright and uncomfortable and in stark contrast to the free comfort of her ladyship.
Elena tutted, although there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “So uptight, sweetie,” she murmured, eyes dancing with something unholy. Alses winced at the nickname she’d somehow acquired. “Still, you are sitting with me; what is it you want, hmm? That I can provide, that is.”
Alses took a deep breath of hot, humid air – the world seemed to swim before her eyes for a moment, before settling – and took the plunge. “We want your recommendation to the Council of Radiance, Lady Lariat, as Councillor for Magic and Foreign Affairs.”
There it was. Bald and bold and incontrovertible. No going back, no weasel words or retrenchment of position, either.
Silence for long ticks – or was it chimes? So hard to tell in the not-quite-dark.
Then a low, delighted and surprised chuckle, a hiss of shifting silk. “You are an ambitious one, aren’t you?” came Elena’s voice, quiet and uncomfortably close to her ear. Alses flinched away, instinctively – and a small hand clamped tight around her shoulder where it had been hovering, preventing her from easily moving away. “Ah ah ah,” came the happy caution, with just a hint of steel in the words. “No running away this time, not when you want something so valuable from me.”
Alses forced herself to remain still. There didn’t really seem to be an option. Silence stretched again, until Elena broke it.
“Well? Go on, sweetie, convince me that it should be you I give up some of my independence to.”
Elena’s spirit-laden breath was hot on Alses’ sweat-streaked neck, and she swallowed heavily. It was hard to breathe – but whether that was the humid atmosphere or Elena’s presence was up for debate. She loosened the outer robes slightly – it was far too hot in here not to, after all, her brain supplied, and it wouldn’t do her case any good if she fainted – not noticing Elena’s predatory eyes.
‘Worse,’ her mind added, ‘What would Lady Lariat do to me if I did faint here, now?’
“Two reasons, my lady-”
“Call me Elena,” came the languid interruption. “It’s just the two of us here, after all.” A ruby flush tinged Alses’ cheeks as she was reminded of that, but she grimly pressed on.
‘It’s a test, Alse, just a test,’ she assured herself, a litany in her mind, doing her level best to ignore another part of herself which cackled that it was a test devised by a drunken and disinhibited Elena Lariat, if it was a test at all.
Horrific.
“Two reasons.” There was a warning squeeze on her shoulder, and so she added, very much as an afterthought, “Elena.”
“One. We’re an immortal aurist Ethaefal from halfway across the world. We’ve travelled, which is more than can be said for most citizens of Lhavit, we’re an aurist so it’s very difficult to lie to us, and we’re immortal so there will be some stability to the new role, at least.”
Elena nodded magisterially, face blank and not giving away any clues. “That’s at least three reasons by my reckoning, but do carry on,” she prompted softly, eyes dancing over Alses’ form, all afire with…something. “I’m agog.”
“Two…if we don’t do it, you might have to.”
That got Elena’s attention; she hunched forward, eyes bright. “Oh? And how do you come to that conclusion, sweetie? What precipitated this particular pearl of wisdom?”
For all her mockery, Elena was at least still listening; Alses gazed steadily into her dark, dark eyes – large and alluring, she noticed fuzzily – and began to explain, voice soft and low. The atmosphere, and their proximity – when had they become so close? – seemed to warrant it.
“Zintila isn’t going to want empty seats at Her Council, is She?” Alses asked, mostly rhetorically. “But nor is She going to want an incompetent trying to run a big slice of the city. It logically follows that if no-one competent applies, She’ll winnow through the pool of wizards and sorceresses in the city until She’s satisfied – and laurelled Lady Lariat would doubtless be near the top of any list Her Constellation handed Her.” A brief, wicked pause. “Don’t you think?” Alses added innocently.
OOCNot sure what's gone on here...a few posts have gone missing! Sorry about the late edits
.
A tongue, pink even in the gloom, darted out and licked at her wet hand, and a smile flashed out, broad and white and alcoholically unconcerned. “Ah, but you don’t drink, do you? Never mind! I shall drink for both of us!”
Before Alses could protest, or somehow contrive to get the glass away from her, Elena had drunk off a good quarter of it as though it were water.
‘Why is it,’ Alses thought, in the suddenly-foggy and mist-wreathed vaults of her mind, ‘That Elena Lariat’s even more unsettling and difficult when she’s drunk and can’t use most of her magic?’
This was not a comforting thought – especially when Alses looked up and saw that catlike grin curving up the lady’s face, and the half-lidded eyes gazing over the rim of the glass that promised – stickiness.
“Come, you know the protocol by now,” came the imperious command. Was it cargoed with something extra? Surely not – but in the strange, exotic atmosphere, wreathed in incense-smoke and alcohol, it was difficult to tell. Did it...matter?
There was stubbornness in the aura, the dominant emotion – although only just, a fresh and new layer over a boiling charivari of other things she didn’t care to look too closely at – and a stubborn Elena Lariat was not a pliable and pleasant Elena Lariat, nor one who’d be amenable to writing a recommendation.
‘We made this bed,’ Alses chanted to herself, ‘Now we have to lie in it. I think that’s the saying, anyway.’
Gingerly, Alses lowered herself onto the very edge of the divan, as far away as was humanly possible from Elena’s extravagantly sprawled-out form, bolt upright and uncomfortable and in stark contrast to the free comfort of her ladyship.
Elena tutted, although there was a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “So uptight, sweetie,” she murmured, eyes dancing with something unholy. Alses winced at the nickname she’d somehow acquired. “Still, you are sitting with me; what is it you want, hmm? That I can provide, that is.”
Alses took a deep breath of hot, humid air – the world seemed to swim before her eyes for a moment, before settling – and took the plunge. “We want your recommendation to the Council of Radiance, Lady Lariat, as Councillor for Magic and Foreign Affairs.”
There it was. Bald and bold and incontrovertible. No going back, no weasel words or retrenchment of position, either.
Silence for long ticks – or was it chimes? So hard to tell in the not-quite-dark.
Then a low, delighted and surprised chuckle, a hiss of shifting silk. “You are an ambitious one, aren’t you?” came Elena’s voice, quiet and uncomfortably close to her ear. Alses flinched away, instinctively – and a small hand clamped tight around her shoulder where it had been hovering, preventing her from easily moving away. “Ah ah ah,” came the happy caution, with just a hint of steel in the words. “No running away this time, not when you want something so valuable from me.”
Alses forced herself to remain still. There didn’t really seem to be an option. Silence stretched again, until Elena broke it.
“Well? Go on, sweetie, convince me that it should be you I give up some of my independence to.”
Elena’s spirit-laden breath was hot on Alses’ sweat-streaked neck, and she swallowed heavily. It was hard to breathe – but whether that was the humid atmosphere or Elena’s presence was up for debate. She loosened the outer robes slightly – it was far too hot in here not to, after all, her brain supplied, and it wouldn’t do her case any good if she fainted – not noticing Elena’s predatory eyes.
‘Worse,’ her mind added, ‘What would Lady Lariat do to me if I did faint here, now?’
“Two reasons, my lady-”
“Call me Elena,” came the languid interruption. “It’s just the two of us here, after all.” A ruby flush tinged Alses’ cheeks as she was reminded of that, but she grimly pressed on.
‘It’s a test, Alse, just a test,’ she assured herself, a litany in her mind, doing her level best to ignore another part of herself which cackled that it was a test devised by a drunken and disinhibited Elena Lariat, if it was a test at all.
Horrific.
“Two reasons.” There was a warning squeeze on her shoulder, and so she added, very much as an afterthought, “Elena.”
“One. We’re an immortal aurist Ethaefal from halfway across the world. We’ve travelled, which is more than can be said for most citizens of Lhavit, we’re an aurist so it’s very difficult to lie to us, and we’re immortal so there will be some stability to the new role, at least.”
Elena nodded magisterially, face blank and not giving away any clues. “That’s at least three reasons by my reckoning, but do carry on,” she prompted softly, eyes dancing over Alses’ form, all afire with…something. “I’m agog.”
“Two…if we don’t do it, you might have to.”
That got Elena’s attention; she hunched forward, eyes bright. “Oh? And how do you come to that conclusion, sweetie? What precipitated this particular pearl of wisdom?”
For all her mockery, Elena was at least still listening; Alses gazed steadily into her dark, dark eyes – large and alluring, she noticed fuzzily – and began to explain, voice soft and low. The atmosphere, and their proximity – when had they become so close? – seemed to warrant it.
“Zintila isn’t going to want empty seats at Her Council, is She?” Alses asked, mostly rhetorically. “But nor is She going to want an incompetent trying to run a big slice of the city. It logically follows that if no-one competent applies, She’ll winnow through the pool of wizards and sorceresses in the city until She’s satisfied – and laurelled Lady Lariat would doubtless be near the top of any list Her Constellation handed Her.” A brief, wicked pause. “Don’t you think?” Alses added innocently.
OOCNot sure what's gone on here...a few posts have gone missing! Sorry about the late edits
.
