❝ ── WASTELAND, BABY !

[vaell]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa wastelander / future rebel. | unaffiliated. | tagged: valentina.
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indent"you know what, at-least julian one-foot has a nice ring to it. maybe you should be the one trying not to blow your foot off tonight, 'cause valentina one-foot doesn't sound any good." he winced to exaggerate his point, though valentina was probably too busy cleaning their plates to notice his face scrunch up in disapproval. julian stepped around the flickering flames of their campfire, the blaze continuing to lick the night air despite having burnt steadily for the last hour. all jokes aside, he did intend to heed to his cousin's advice even though he'd brushed her off with his own teasing. julian and valentina possessed a unique dynamic that way, and in many other regards too; even when they were younger they used to shove each-other around from laughing too hard and not much has changed since then. when valentina's father would take the two of them out hunting, julian would always try to distract her so that he could try and steal the game she had her eyes set on. of course it didn't really matter much if they let a scrawny rodent evade the two of them over their nonsense because his uncle usually managed to track down a creature more appetizing than whatever they stumbled upon anyway. it was strange to reflect back on those memories, brimming with childhood nostalgia and painted in a reminiscent hue. the loss of their parents has since sealed over the fond recollections of his youth. at some point, it started to become harder and harder to reflect on what had once been after they were torn from his life. not much can prepare you for that grand of a loss, either, not even watching their gradual descent into android hysteria. he was sure that the hysteria induced by the conclaves creations was something like a plague; your fears take root and slowly fester within the very bones of your body, and even when you swear you're thinking irrationally there is a voice telling you that your eyes are deceiving you. julian would never know what it was like inside of their minds the moments before they passed, how riddled with delusions their conceptions of reality were. it's no wonder wastelanders are so susceptible to falling victim to their suspicions. he couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for their parents to decipher truth from falsehood if it was enough to end in their deaths. as a general rule of thumb, he tries to avoid the topic of their parents. their deaths were gruesome and brutal and unjust and every drop of blame was sitting right on the shoulders of the conclave. their hands were bloodied from the deaths of the people they have managed to slaughter, both directly and indirectly. any action the government takes has a cascade effect across the wasteland, and those who inhabit it are the ones who feel it the most. you hear about things like android hysteria happening to other people, families who wound up killing one another over their addled perceptions of reality, but you never expect it to truly happen to you. earlier today, having no choice but to face some part of their past hidden out of sight and secured behind floorboards has done nothing but help resurface those particularly dismal feelings he has permanently associated with his parents. there is a reason why he does not carry his mother's amulet on his person, or why he does not skim through the once well-maintained pages of the white scriptures she used to read from. weeks go by and the troubles of the past evade you but the moment you start uncovering things, it is bound to come falling back down onto you. and hard.
indentjulian reached down beside the large boulder that towered over their campsite in order to pick up his shotgun from where it was leaning against the side of the rock, continuing to sling the weapon across his back. "loud and clear, val. i'll be back in world-record time anyways. i don't want to accidentally get caught sightseeing by some grisly beast after all. but you know, telling me to bring a shotgun instead of some arrows doesn't exactly make me feel any better." he knew his cousin was just looking out for him but it was just in his nature to either try and play the situation down or make a joke out of it entirely. getting eaten alive or mauled to death didn't sound like the way he wanted to be spending his evening though, so he was planning to dispose of that carcass as efficiently as he possibly could. with their trusty lantern in one hand and the remains of the foxes body in the other, julian finally sought to depart from the small area they were occupying. it was probably not in their best interest to stall disposing the skeleton for much longer than they needed to, considering that the scent attached to carcass itself could attract a few predators who would love to disturb the precarious peace of their campsite. he intended to head over toward the fencing surrounding the construction site so that he could dispose of the creatures body, though he would have to walk for some time so he was far enough from where they planned to be staying for the night, but close enough that he would not need to worry about travelling alone. the sky has only continued to darken since he and his cousin were venturing the wasteland earlier to track down a critter they could divide up to eat, and the silence of the night was only interrupted by the creak of the lantern in his hand as it swayed in his grip. it was practically impossible to discern much from outside the small golden ring of light the lantern provided him with, washing the hardened ground over with each step he took. he was trying not to focus on the fact that this hour of the day marked the time when many nocturnal creatures finally emerged from their dens or burrows, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to grow further on edge. after all, he was practically a walking, clueless target holding a carcass. at this point, he may as well just announce to the entire wasteland that he was here. that is, if certain predators were not already aware of his presence. luckily, he wasn't going to have much of a problem retracing his steps. as soon as he made out the outline of the mesh fencing panels surrounding the construction site, he made the decision to stick close to it while walking down the length of the boundary. some parts of the fencing were torn and jagged, like a beast had tore a gap into it so that it could clamber on past the obstacle in its way. a reddish-brown tarnish stained the chainlink, the steel and the wire of the fencing, no surprise given how long it has been exposed to the natural elements of the world. weeds and thistles were ensnared in the chainlink and sprouted out from the ground in sizeable quantities.
indentjulian turned his attention inward of the construction site as he cautiously strode on its outskirts. he did not need it to be daylight to know that the abandoned buildings located within the vicinity were weathered and crumbling at their foundations. whatever lurked inside such decrepit structures were better off as mysteries, too. entering the construction site would be putting your neck on the line, let alone venturing into one of the abandoned buildings without being prepared for what you might face. a lot of creatures out in the wasteland tend to be territorial, though typically you can spot signs of marking and avoid a bad situation for yourself. some are more aggressive than others when it comes to defending their territory from incursions of other species, and he did not want to find out what might currently be occupying the walls of the buildings within the construction site. evidently, its fencing has been breached on multiple occasions so there was simply no doubt that he should be heedful of his surroundings right now. julian didn't really want to keep a hold of the fox carcass for much long either should a predator pick up its scent. then he would be as good as dead because right now, his hands were full. he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. the fire from their campsite was practically out of sight at this point, obscured behind the height of the toppled boulder and diminished by the distance between him and the fire. that didn't exactly help him feel much better, but at-least such was a sign he could confidently throw the carcass over the fence without fearing it might bring unwanted attention to the area they were staying for the night. so, with a grunt, he chucked the fox past the construction sites fencing, hearing the remains of the animal hit the ground with a plop on the other side. julian let out a short exhale of a breath, running the back of his hand against his temples in order to dispel any sweat forming on his brow. a part of him was tempted to simply dart as quickly as he could from where he'd landed the carcass, but his more rational instinct told him that was certainly a bad idea. not only would he be abandoning his relative stealth but he could also bring some unwanted attention to himself if he ended up tripping and falling into the fence and making a ruckus loud enough that the entire wasteland would hear the chainlink tremble against his weight.
indentafter yanking out some of the dry weeds clustered at the fencing to save for their fire, his unoccupied hand found his shotgun, shifting the weapon from his back and to his chest where his hand could cautiously rest upon the grip of his gun. while he did not expect to get ambushed by anything just yet, he also did not want to let his guard down and be the fool who died simply because he was not anticipating anything. julian looked out onto the construction site, suspiciously devoid of activity before resolving to begin his trek again along the the same path of fencing he had stuck close to before. what lurked near the remains of the machinery and old buildings a few acres beyond the fencing was far beyond what he wished to find out. hopefully they could make it through the night without any creatures impeding on their sleep. it was not just predators they had to worry about either. amouxes in particular were always a nuisance to have to deal with, and there was no lack of them out in the country. though they look harmless enough, with their fluffy tails and wide, curious eyes, they are very much the opposite. they have a knack for trying to steal any belongings or items they think might have use to them and they usually tend to be successful at snatching things up and under your nose. they like causing mischief that way and they're sly enough to get away with it most of the time too. he never really liked the idea that such little innocent looking critters could morph into a much larger, intimidating form should they sustain any injury. even in the instances he's had to chase them off from a bag he might have left momentarily unattended, he has always been careful not to frighten them too much in fear that it might just be the day the amouxes take on their predatory forms just because he was excessively scaring them. such would be his luck. either way, he and valentina had a surplus of valuables attached to mars right now, and they could not risk a tiny little amoux or two trying to weasel their way around their campsite. he was sure that in the case that did happen, mars or their sand-cats would take notice and alert them some way or another at-least. a bunch of their stuff had sentimental value, but a lot of it also had value and he did not want to lose anything that could result in acquiring some caps.
indentby the time julian had made his way across the long stretch of the waste again, he was already starting to feel better just from seeing the large slab of stone materialize in his otherwise limited range of view right now. the side of the massive rock was partially submerged in the tangerine glow from their fire, illuminating the wreckage of steel fencing bordering the construction site, where mangled and twisted wiring stuck out from the destroyed chainlink. despite walking back in to their campsite to see two sleeping bags rolled out, he could not say he was particularly tired. perhaps it was the short journey there and back that shook the exhaustion from his weary bones, or maybe it was the chance he might get ambushed at any second that woke him right back up, but he was no longer as tired as he was once was when he was lazing around the fire eating the cooked meat of the fox. he was relieved to be back, yes, but tired, no. julian ambled over to mars so that he could hook the lantern back onto his saddle again, careful not to disturb him or the sand-cats resting within his saddlebags. he did not remove his shotgun, though. he was starting to like the idea of staying up more than getting some immediate rest. after all he wasn't sure he would be able to fall asleep so soon with how paranoid he was feeling after his brief excursion to throw the fox carcass away. "y'know what, val? i think i'm gonna be generous today and take the first shift." he announced, turning around to face the woman, now sitting atop one of the sleeping bags. "you'll just be in debt to me for the next time we happen to be risking our lives out in the wilderness." julian approached their fire, appreciative of the instant warmth it cast upon him. their sleeping bags were positioned close to their source of heat but not dangerously so. years of usage and wear have left their sleeping bags rather ragged but it was nothing they weren't used to. "honestly though, i don't think i could fall asleep after being out there for so long. i managed to get some dried up weeds for our fire while i was gone too, so combined we should have enough tinder to keep our fire alive for the night." he looked into the flames of the fire as he spoke, and after a moment of standing in front of it, he decided to sit down on the remaining sleeping bag. he deposited the bundle of weeds in his hands from when he'd picked them up earlier into the pile valentina had already set on the ground. erring on the side of caution was going to be necessary if they wanted to survive out here in the wasteland, and having some extra feed for their fire was going to be helpful throughout the night should they need to stoke its flames once again. "i promise i'll remember to turn the fox pelt in a few hours too since i don't want to worry about being killed in my sleep by you. and just in case you didn't know, there's already about fifty creatures that would gladly take that job from you, by the way."
indentmaybe he did not want to sleep right away simply because the idea of tomorrow was daunting in and of itself. it was going to be a brand new day and they would have to face the uncertainties that came along with their journey for discovering the freedom trail. so far, they've managed to escape the conclave but they couldn't let themselves get overconfident, especially if their identities were uncovered between now and dawn. he was certain that valentina didn't enjoy the sentiment of having to pause and settle down for the night and neither did he. they felt strangely exposed right now even despite the cover of nature around them although they were not going to find anywhere with four enclosed walls either so this was the best they could make do with. besides, if they kept travelling despite their exhaustion, they would be more likely to make mistakes throughout their trip. they could leave behind hints of where they've been without even knowing it just by making silly decisions thanks to not having a clear, level head on their shoulders. so regardless julian liked to think they were making the right decision right now, even if their lives were very much so hanging in the balance. all they could so was put trust in themselves and their instincts, as well as in each-other. his gaze flickered over to his cousin once he noticed she was nearly settled for the night. "sleep well, val. try not to snore too loud either, or else i will have to wake you up." he teased, diverting his attention up to the starry sky. she would probably swat him if she were any closer to him and even if she did, he wouldn't have minded much. as bizarre as it were, now that they were officially winding down for the night he was starting to settle into contentment. he was planning on preoccupying himself with several things throughout the course of his shift; feeding the fire as needed, turning the fox pelt as promised. maybe he would pull out his mothers scriptures from mars' saddlebags, if only to run his fingers across the aged pages and remember the woman who once read them to him. he liked the idea of skimming the religious text under the dim glow of their firelight.

[vaermina]

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I.xcis malex II.xthe conclave militaryx III. an inr tactical intelligence officer & sniper


indentroland shifted a few centimeters to his left so jazmín could shimmy herself off of the cot. he remained silent as he watched her. his girlfriend’s form was a silhouette of purple rain and onyx amongst the dark shadows of the tent, illuminated only briefly by the glow of the dimmed led lights. roland lifted his legs up before pushing himself back up along the cot. he adjusted his body in order to get comfortable before he tentatively laid back on the portable bed. the cot was not very comfortable but what do you expect from a light-weight bed made of sturdy cloth over a folding frame? it’s convenient and easy to move and sanitize. the cloth’s material felt uncomfortable against his bare skin - the metal bars digging into his frame did not really help, either - but it was better than sleeping on the ground. once the man made himself comfortable, he grew still so jazmín could join him on the portable bed. the cot creaked underneath their combined weight. the addition of his girlfriend's weight on top of his own was a peculiar feeling. his leg was no longer bothering him on the same magnitude as earlier considering he took pain medication. in fact, his entire body was feeling relatively stable despite feeling sore and twisted earlier. he was no longer as uncomfortable but jazmín's weight on top of his own did manage to jar him for a moment or two. a soft grunt escaped the man once she made herself comfortable, her torso resting against his chest and her hands sliding up to his collarbone. his own hands found their way to her hips. jazmín's presence did not necessarily discomfort him. the sheer difference between their weight and height ratio usually made it difficult for jazmín to put strain on his body but after their scuffle with the griffins today, his muscles were feeling particularly sensitive to tension. it didn't really matter, though. he would adapt. his girlfriend's face was hovering above his own now. he could feel her warm breath fan against his face, her eyes observing his features in keen observation. it was dark enough inside the tent that it was difficult for roland to make out her face in clear detail. the light was dim and only illuminated portions of her features - her nose, the soft sheen of her damp hair, the inviting curve of her lips. roland found his breathing to have grown shallow now that their eyes were locked. it was hard to believe that such a tumultuous day could end so peacefully. today was just another harsh reminder of how unforgiving and callous this country has grown to be. danger lurked in every corner and unscrupulous people sought to skewer justice as much as possible because of their unfounded hatred towards their government. the mayor knew what situation he was sending roland and jazmín into. he was unprincipled, dishonest and unfit to hold any sort of leaderly position. he knew nothing about mayor finnall prior to their meeting but now? he knew everything he needed to know about the man. the mayor had no love for the conclave but the government upheld his status and influence in arcadia. the enclave dominion used him to help control the city and its people and in return, mayor finnall reaped whatever wealth and security they offered him. from a survival standpoint, it was difficult to blame him. not every tainted-blood is granted the opportunity to live opulently. the mayor enjoyed the luxuries of his office all while garnering the benefits of the peoples' trust. he doubted that the man cared at all for arcadia's livelihood. it was amusing to roland how tainted-bloods carried themselves like that. a lot of them are like the mayor; they care nothing for order, law and justice unless they can get something valuable out of it. they don't seem to realize that their lives would be much easier if they allowed jurisprudence to guide them. what's the point of living in severe mistrust and hostility towards an entity that could bring the world back to the way it used to be, when everyone did not have to live in the dirt and struggle to survive in an irradiated world? roland had once been told by a superior to not mind the cynical and bellicose nature of tainted-bloods. they've lived for over three hundred years in a lawless country. still, it baffled roland how tainted-bloods like mayor finnall were allowed to stay in power when they display a sharp disregard for their government. roland and jazmín could have died today because of the mayor's callousness.
indentroland kept eye contact with jazmín. he could feel her cool hands touch his cheeks before her lips met his own. their kiss was light and chaste. his girlfriend's actions were gentle and roland displayed no resistance towards her. even after she pulled away, his hands slid up from her hips to curl around her wrists. he could feel her thumb lightly caress his skin. despite everything that has happened today, the two of them managed to find themselves wedged in the pit of an introspective conversation. the man remained silent as jazmín began to speak again. her line of thinking was not exactly an uncommon presumption. most people share a similar thought pattern. it's not that too farfetched, isn't it? it's easy for anyone to rationalize their own trauma and become determined to never regurgitate the same type of behaviors onto their own children that were shown to them during their own youth. you internalize and reflect on what you has been done to you and how it made you feel and see the world and people around you so when you have your own children one day, you're certain that you would never put them through what you had to go through as a kid. it's a noble resolution but the human mind is not so easily tenacious. roland could imagine that it was easy for parents to fall into the same mindset that gripped their kin before them. a lot of people recapitulate the same behaviors and teachings they were shown themselves as children. sometimes, it's a subconscious effect. it's not an easy task to raise children, either. your patience and understanding can only go so far unless you have the strength to pull yourself away and take a breather. some people are natural caretakers; others not so much. there is a lot that goes into it. some of jazmín's habits reflected that of her mother's but the same could be said of roland and every other human on this planet. children pick up what they're exposed to at an early age. sometimes children will grow to copy the mannerisms and behaviors shown to them by their parents because it's all they've ever known. it ran deeper than mere behaviors, too. ideologies, religion, moral principles, ethics. children are impressionable and keen and roland doubted that people realized how much care they should truly be investing into their children's behaviors. it was obvious to roland since he learned about jazmín's mother that the woman had not been ready for a child at all. she poured her resentment and anguish onto her daughter with no thought to how it might affect her in the future. she used jazmín as an emotional punching bag. she was clearly not in the right headspace to bear a child and it probably did not help that she married a man like jazmín's father either. children are often caught in the middle of parental feuds and used as ammo on both sides. it's easy for any grown adult to take out their anger on someone as helpless as a child and sometimes, the way you're treated as a youth and what your parents say and do to you sticks with you until adulthood. it was evident in the way people like roland and jazmín acted and by what his girlfriend was telling him, he could definitely tell that she has held onto a lot of things she was told as a child. she was pertaining some habits that she has learned from her mother and in return, it was beginning to bear a vicious cycle that often plagues families with trauma and quarrels. it's like with everything that bears a sequence; once you get the wheel fueled and moving, it's hard to stop it. jazmín's habits and thought patterns bore resemblance to those who left a deep impression upon her as a youth and if she was not careful, she could end up repeating the same scenarios that plagued her during her own childhood. roland did not say that as an ill statement for he too could fall victim to such a thing, as could anyone who is not mindful enough to heed it. it's easy to proclaim that you refuse to continue the cycle of neglect until you end up starting a family of your own. what's not to say that jazmín's mother had not thought the same thing until she married and had a child of her own and began to not only battle a hefty divorce against an unfaithful husband but what her brain perceived as the very cause of her grief - her own daughter? her mother struggled with her own mental health but that did not give her the right to treat jazmín the way she did. no parent should ever say such horrible things to their child.
indentroland kept his silence even after she continued to shift and make herself comfortable atop of him. it was best for him to remain silent for now. he did not want to interrupt her. they didn't really talk about these type of subjects to begin with. he was not sure if it was a subconscious attempt to evade sensitive topics and resurface old wounds but the couple do not often speak of such things. he knew they needed to try. it is not healthy to bite your tongue and swallow your grief but sometimes it's easier than speaking on it. roland was just glad she trusted him enough to talk about such matters with him. he was not the most tactful or perceptive person on this earth but he tried for jazmín's sake. he knew that she tried her best for him, too as was such displayed by her sudden affection again. she removed herself from his chest so she could look down at him. he returned her soft smile. "i know." perhaps it would be easier for them to talk about their mental afflictions if roland adapted a more open attitude. he was a reserved person who rarely spoke on what was bothering him. he was closed off and he knew that such behavior most likely made it more difficult for jazmín to talk to him about certain things. it's daunting to speak to someone about private affairs when they themselves tell you so little of what goes on in their own mind. it makes you feel isolated and doubtful on whether or not you're the only one who experiences tribulations. roland has become more aware of his own behavior over the years but changing is not very easy. it's difficult to break old habits and behaviors, especially when said behaviors have helped you retain some slivers of sanity over the years. he did not want jazmín to view him as irreproachable but his tendency to avoid sensitive subjects and painful memories most likely contributed to the couple's rare discussions about their inner conflicts. it's natural for anyone to be uncomfortable speaking about such things, too. roland knew that better than anyone. he was not the type of person to burden others with his own troubles and it seemed that his girlfriend has adapted a similar attitude when it came to these type of discussions. it was doing neither of them any good to swallow their negative feelings but roland has been doing it for years now.
indentjazmín's despairs hit almost entirely too close to home. even as the man laid there listening to her in silence, he could understand her pain. the anxiety attacks that are triggered without a logical cause, the uncertainty over valuing your mental health versus pursuing your career, the doubt that rages upon you when you realize how unstable your life truly is. it was obvious to roland that even though his girlfriend was doing much better than she was as a young adult, she was still struggling with inner conflicts pertaining to her mental welfare and the damage her career has done to her. her anxiety attack earlier today over a cigarette could very well be a warning sign that her stability was hanging on a thread and she was just barely concealing what was undoubtedly a layer of inner turmoil, one that has been building for years. the military was not kind towards those who struggle with mental health, either and roland could understand why. soldiers who struggle with depression and anxiety are not the type of people who can witness the atrocities of the wasteland and handle it properly. it's like playing with fire because how are these type of careers healthy and suitable for those with delicate mindsets? the violence and bloodshed one witnesses while in service can change a person. war changes people; it alters your very brain. jazmín's concerns were reasonable. she's been only barely tolerating her situation for the past few years and sooner or later, the consequences were going to catch up to her. the same thing happened to roland and he did not want it happening to jazmín. she's been masking her issues and just barely handling the rotting pieces but she could not keep it up forever. she had to make a choice and she had to make it soon but he knew she could not do it alone. she needed help if she wanted to get better and there was nothing wrong with that but it could potentially clash with her career should she pursue professional help of any kind. her doubts were holding her back and letting her mind run rampant, though as shown by her uncertainty towards her career choices and what she has done to defy her father. truthfully, the military might not be a suitable career choice for jazmín but how could she truly know that if she did not take the steps to try and get better? her career was only the icing on top of the cake. roland had no doubt in mind that her troubles stemmed from her childhood and when you neglect said problems, it only manages to get worse. he did not want her to live a life of silent suffering for that's exactly what roland does. he had a habit of masking his troubles and like an animal that sought a quiet place to die, he sought isolation for his issues. he's gotten used to dealing with matters by himself. he did not seek help from others and that much was shown by how defensive he got when prodded. he indulges himself in solitude for the most part but the effects can be seen by others. he ran away from his issues and self-indulged to be free of them. hell, the only reason he's thought so much about the issues of children and parenthood was because of his tendencies to isolate himself. it's easy to overthink when you deal with anxiety in a closed off mindset and rarely share your feelings with others. very few people have shown a great amount of concern over what he's doing in his free time, anyway. most of the people roland has met rarely confronted him about it. he's grown used to dealing with it all on his own.
indenthe finally broke his silence after a few moments of quiet pondering. "what does your father even know about what you're capable of? he's never taken the time to stop and see your potential. i doubt he's ever had a sliver of regret over the way he's treated you. the same thing goes for my own father. we fret and antagonize ourselves over the way we were treated as kids when the people who actually hurt us don't lose a wink of sleep over it. it's not very fair but i think there comes a certain point in our lives where we have to hear the music and realize that if we keep brooding over the past, we're never going to move on. the people who hurt us don't care about what they've done. they don't care that we're hurting and if we don't accept that, we'll be hurting for the rest of our lives and miss out on opportunities that could truly make us happy." it seemed that the victims always have to pay the price. it wasn't fair but it was the truth. roland has come to terms with that and he's come to accept some of the things that have happened to him, hence his thoughtfulness on the subject. he's accepted it but has he learned to cope with it all? not really. and either way, roland doubted that jazmín's father cared much about the way he's treated his daughter. roland sighed before his hands moved to her lower back. he could feel her grip around his neck tightening. "i understand the way you feel. i feel it all the time. you're living but you're not really living, you know? it just kind of feels like you're barely coping throughout the day and struggling to bury things that just refuse to die or you're just pouring all your time and energy into work so you don't have to be alone with your thoughts. it eventually boils down to where you can't even pinpoint the exact cause of it because you've been living with it for so long. but no, you're right, none of this is healthy. it's no way to live and you deserve better than that." it's a difficult decision to make, too. roland and jazmín have been enlisted in the military since they were young adults. it's all they've ever known career wise and they've probably spent more time out in the wasteland than in the capital city at this point. it's hard to separate yourself from something you've known for so many years but how much longer can people like roland and jazmín use that excuse before it catches up to them? sometimes you only have one chance to get your life on track and that's it. some people don't get a second chance and the couple could easily be one of those people. "and hey, don't say you wouldn't be a competent mother. you have a lot of love to give to the right person and just because your mother acted like a bat out of hell doesn't mean you'll follow in her footsteps. any child would be lucky to have you as a mother. you've already taken the first step by recognizing there's a problem, too, right? you just need to make the final push but it all comes down to your willpower and desire to get better. there's no use in putting yourself on that type of journey if you're not absolutely positive about it." she sounded uncertain about it all and there was little roland could do to help her apart from offer her advice and his opinion. jazmín had to make the ultimate decision on her own free will and as much as roland wanted her to seek aid, he could not force her to do it. mental health is a tricky subject when it comes to the military in general. the potential for negative career impact centers on varying levels of confidentiality between psychologists. the military is not entirely devoid of mental health resources. after all, it's just basic knowledge that anyone who serves is capable of developing a disorder. it'd be foolish for the military to not expect that but it all depends on how badly you're afflicted and if it will affect the way you carry out your duties. there are clinical and counseling military psychologists who assess, diagnose and treat mental disorders as well as try to assess the extent of said diagnoses on their patients to figure out if they're still deemed fit for service. it can get dangerous with military psychologists when they are required to disclose confidential information to assist military investigations and conduct suitability screenings and command-directed mental health evaluations. treatment information from military psychologists can be a determining factor in whether a soldier can continue to serve. sometimes, it even depends on the psychologist you talk to. some can balance the military's need to know and the service member's privacy by reporting only very specific information germane to fitness for duty. they can minimize incursions into privacy by writing less detailed files in their medical records systems, eliminating the risk of third parties from accessing said files to pry into a service member's personal life. civilian psychologists are a much better route to take. civilian psychologists, particularly those in private-practices, have greater control over client records and do need have to obey military commands or orders. they offer a great level of confidentiality that minimizes potential damage to a soldier's career. the only con is that civilian psychologists might not understand military culture and those who serve. still, roland thought it was a better option than trying to seek help through the military's mental health resources. the military can be picky on who they allow to enlist - particularly during the initial enlistment process - and it can be difficult for anyone with debilitating mental disorders to serve. the only reason roland knew about all of this and had a degree of knowledge on cheating the system was because as a military sniper, he's been around people who have struggled with their mental health. he's spoken to others about it, particularly to those who struggled greatly themselves or lost fellow service members to the struggle. he's been around people who have struggled in the same ways as himself and jazmín with problems that often stemmed from their youth. at this point, it's rare to meet someone who hasn't been affected by their time in the military.
indent"you know... you could always start small. you don't have to jump into something like medications if you don't want to although there's nothing wrong with that either. you could talk to somebody after your contract is up. it doesn't have to be someone from the military. there's plenty of civilian psychologists you could see that offer a sure promise of confidentiality. you could try it out, see how you like it and if you think there's any progress to be made. a professional might be able to help you develop healthy coping mechanisms and guide you onto a better path of healing where you're not just sick and tired all the time. it doesn't have to be anything extreme or daunting. you know, just simple appointments where you can go and talk to someone. it might be nerve-wracking at first but that's with everything. and if you don't like it or feel like it won't help you? you don't have to pursue it. you can take things one step at a time and move at your own leisure. i know you're worried about your career but if you were to see a civilian psychologist, you wouldn't have to worry about being discharged upon superiors being able to access your medical records like with a military psychologist. we could always look more into it, too and see just how that all works out legally. there's no shame in any of that either." counseling might help jazmín. a professional could help her take the necessary steps to heal, with such introspection beginning with her childhood. a professional could help her create new and healthy coping mechanisms and work through the feelings that haunt her and make her so distressed. who knows, she might even need to look at other options such as medication. truthfully, roland wanted the best for her. he knew how difficult it was to make these kind of decisions but how long can one handle being sick and tired all the time? roland wished he could do more to help her himself but he was in no position to give her life advice. he had no idea how to help her. roland had his own plethora of issues and he was in no state to give his girlfriend advice. of course, he had no qualms when it came to listening to her vent but there was little he could do in terms of nudging her in a certain direction. he raised one of his hands to gently stroke the side of her head. "i just want you to be okay, baby. i don't want you to be in pain anymore. but you're not alone, alright? i'll always be here for you. whenever and however you need me, i'm always going to be there for you. you don't have to go through this by yourself. i want to help you however i can but i think when it comes down to this, there's only so much i can do. but hey, if it comes down to it, we could always take a break after our enlistment contracts end. we could take that time to step back and look at options, yeah? it won't be a short or easy process but it's doable. you're the only person who can make the call, though. you're the only one who can make the decision to turn your life around but you don't have to do this alone. i'm right here with you, no matter what. and you're not what your parents tried to shape you to be. you're so much more than that. you can do everything you want to do. you don't have to remain a prisoner to your youth. you can break free from it. you're capable of so much, jazmín. i know there are times where i'm not the most receptive or flexible person but i've always seen your potential and no, i'm just not saying that because i'm your boyfriend. you're headstrong and intelligent. i mean, it's not exactly an easy task to figure out how to work a broken aircraft like you did earlier today. i've seen how caring you are, too. you're solicitous and attentive and doting and just one hell of a woman. i'm lucky that you're in my life. i want you to stay in my life. i want you to stay with me until the end of time. nobody matters in this world but us and i honestly can't imagine this world without you. in fact, i don't want to live in this world unless you're here with me."

[vaell]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxinr tactical intel. officer / covert ops. taskforce. | conclave military. | tagged: roland.
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indentjazmín remained relatively still against roland's body, the side of her face resting at his chest. since opening up to her boyfriend she's failed to feel any better than she did before. she knew that not only has she suddenly burdened him with her own troubles but she's also helped create a rather uncomfortable situation for the both of them. engaging in these sorts of conversations were infrequent for her and roland to begin with, and for her to address certain matters must be somewhat unexpected - if not surprising - for roland to hear. she felt heavy with regret, especially for opening her mouth to begin with even if roland was content offering her some assurance. he didn't deserve to be bombarded with her own grief out of the blue, and it seemed a heavy topic to face at this time of day. jazmín couldn't help the way she behaved though. it was awfully typical for her to feel an overwhelming sense of dread or guilt after having given someone a little bit too close of a look inside of her personal thoughts or mental wellbeing. oftentimes she realized far too late that she has crossed some sort of unspoken social boundary, and that perhaps what she was saying was not a topic that other people were keen to openly discuss. she could understand it if roland himself was not particularly comfortable right now. after all, there seemed to be a number of things the couple accepted about each other but did not bring forth to discussion, the topic at hand being one of such things. of course anyone who knew her well enough could gather from her young adulthood alone that something has always loomed over her. she was sure roland himself had enough experience with the way she acted back then, and how she might have affected him was still vastly unknown to her. she just didn't want to risk resurfacing any hurtful emotions on his end. after all, it was obvious that there were other connotations associated with what she was saying. truthfully, a part of her could not help but wonder if her forward attitude has ever discouraged roland from confiding in her about anything that he might benefit from discussing. she and him were situated at two opposite ends of a spectrum and they have been since the first night they met. looking back on their relationship, it was a lot easier to recall the time she's spent talking to him about what troubled her than it was to call upon memories of roland doing anything of the sort. that alone could be attributed to why she felt it was so unexpected to hear him voice his own personal thoughts earlier. her boyfriend has surrounded himself in a shroud of unknown that she has yet to fully understand to this very day. she knew that she couldn't blame him for his reserved nature but there have been times where she felt totally and completely isolated from roland before, simply because the two of them didn't express their feelings in the same way as one another. sometimes it was hard for her to relate to him at all because of his tendencies to grow closed off or withdrawn. she even used to think that she was doing something wrong because he didn't always receive her the way she might expect, but she has long dismantled such a belief. roland possessed an entirely different way of processing his emotion and feeling than she did and it took her a long time to understand that. granted, it was still easy for her to grow frustrated over how he behaved at times but that aspect of their relationship has always been something of an ongoing learning curve.
indenther boyfriend was right though. we fret and antagonize ourselves over the way we were treated as kids when the people who actually hurt us don't lose a wink of sleep over it. her mother demonstrated that the day she chose to permanently cut ties with her and her father proved such a statement true on countless occasions. that was precisely what hurt though, knowing that they didn't care half as much as she did. jazmín has spent so much of her life tormented over why certain things have happened to her and why she was always the one who wound up alone and distraught. with time she's become convinced that there had to be something the matter with her and not with the people around her. it was like there was just something in her that made people inclined to leave, and it's always felt like a matter of time before those closest to her caught on to the type of person she was. jazmín has always struggled with her identity as an individual but what would become of her if she did take the necessary steps toward healing some open wounds from her childhood? she didn't know who she was outside of her past experiences and that sort of unknown was daunting. most of her life has been centered around what she's endured and maybe that's been a part of what made her reluctant to change. what jazmín did know was that she didn't want roland to see her in the same way other people have, and it was evident to her that carrying out her everyday duties as an officer of the conclave would be significantly easier if she addressed some of the issues that have metastasized inside of her over the years. with age it has grown increasingly important to her that she did something to improve her wellbeing but no matter how much she lay here with roland and talk about it, when it came down to it was she truly going to commit to a journey of healing? nothing she proclaimed mattered unless she took the initiative herself, and that wasn't going to be easily achieved. being exposed to stigmatization at a young age and developing an aversion to the contemporary means of accessing health services was going to be a significant hurdle for her to overcome in the first place. jazmín could feel roland's hands travel to her lower back. she didn't move to reinitiate eye contact with him again. from where she rested her head against his body her gaze remained trained on the shadows warping the flimsy tarp walls of their room, her expression unreadable. the woman could smell the light scent of clove lingering on roland's skin from the body wash that was stored in their rooms designated shower. spending the night together was unusual for the two of them, at-least during their periods of active deployment. sometimes they were separated from each other for months on end due to the demands of their respective careers and it was then that she found it harder to fall asleep at night. the hard surface of whatever cot she would be allotted often dug right into her limbs and would prohibit her from growing comfortable to begin with. the sheets were often scratchy and thin and depending on where she was stationed she was either far too cold or had no desire to be underneath a shabby blanket at all. it's become something of tradition that whenever jazmín was conducting business in the wasteland with her colleagues she was always doomed to become deprived of sleep simply from tossing and turning all night. she was pretty sure a lot of that had to do with the absence of roland's presence. he crossed her mind a lot when she was finally able to rest her head against a pillow at the end of a long day. in the event she and her boyfriend weren't able to communicate with each other over the phone due to reception or their own availability, sometimes she would wonder if he too was awake at the very same moment she was, thinking of her from across the country.
indenteither way, jazmín felt more at ease when she was with roland. he could make settling down in a medical tent for the night an otherwise pleasant experience. the officer shifted her head slightly when she heard his voice again, only half looking up at him. his words elicited an indistinct mumble from her. it was easy for her to admit that her career has put significant strain on her already precarious health - most people can at-least acknowledge that - but it was certainly harder to imagine taking a step back from the military altogether. jazmín and roland have both spent a significant number of years dedicating their lives to the army, and during that time they've seen through countless conclave agendas while sacrificing the earliest parts of their adulthood to long nights spent in the waste. as a result, the two of them have been lauded for their service. it takes dedication and commitment for someone to devote their life to the betterment of the wasteland and its inhabitants, and jazmín was content with her current standing. like roland said, pouring time and energy into work made it easier to avoid certain things that might otherwise haunt you in your free time, and jazmín was certainly no exception. working as a commissioned officer is demanding. she's constantly exposed to ethically ambiguous situations in her line of work, and being someone in a position to pass judgement upon another is tolling enough. even when she wasn't deployed in the wasteland it wasn't easy to find a true break. between being required at different conclave prisons or spending time in her cramped office looking over case files she was rarely left alone with her thoughts. the entire concept is almost counterintuitive; spending more time focusing solely on your career was a perfect distraction but in the process you risk wearing yourself out to the point where it's almost inevitable you have to face what you've been running from. one of her hands travelled to his bicep and began moving along the side of his upper arm in a gentle stroking motion. the touch of her fingers were light against his skin. she remained quiet for some time after her boyfriend spoke, though he did manage to make her smile, no matter how brief. roland was being thoughtful and she appreciated the fact he was willing to offer her some of his own insight on the conflict she faced. it didn't help much that she was uncertain over the matter, but it was still nice to hear a verbal reminder that someone was in-fact there for her and very much so willing to support her. nevertheless she needed to be the one making the final decision for herself just as he pointed out. jazmín had to keep herself from shifting her limbs and disturbing roland, largely due to a growing feeling of restlessness that could be attributed to the conversation at hand. "yeah.." she agreed, almost distantly. she didn't know how much of what roland said truly resonated with her; after all, she couldn't believe that she was any different from her mother, nor could she much picture that she would ever be a fit parent either. he must believe it though, and that had to count for something. her eyes flickered away from the tent's walls and to roland's arm where she watched her finger begin to lazily trace the outlines of one of his many tattoos, barely visible in the darkness of their room. it was far easier for her to preoccupy herself instead of looking at roland directly. there was nothing for her to be embarrassed about and yet she felt a sense of self-consciousness impeding on her otherwise pensive mood. she knew she could trust roland enough not to judge her but it was still hard to fend the feeling off. she's never much admitted anything like this to someone close to her, or at-least not in such a straightforward manner. her parents were insecure people who didn't want to be judged for seeking treatment let alone be seen as what they perceived as weak or incompetent in any capacity. internalizing that sort of stigma was what made her feel both ashamed and embarrassed and in the end contributed greatly to her hesitancy toward reaching out to begin with. jazmín was afraid of being met with a lack of understanding. it's no secret that she has been dealing with her own share of problems for some time now but how often has she ever addressed her struggle, truly?
indenther finger stalled in its path when roland spoke up again. she was nearly tempted to raise her head from his chest to finally look at him. you could talk to somebody after your contract is up. it doesn't have to be someone from the military. did that mean there truly was a chance she could avoid forfeiting her career altogether? jazmín knew that if she did seek out the military's mental health resources, such as any clinical or counselling military psychologists, she might have to come to terms with facing some form of termination. while an individual's wellbeing should exceed that of their job it just wasn't that simple. the army was all that she was familiar with at this point in her life; it was a part of her very being and she couldn't imagine leading a life outside of it. however, if she could eliminate the fear of losing her position, wouldn't that solve a lot of her hesitancy? what would hold her back then? all that would stand between jazmín and what she wanted in life would only be her own excuses. it seemed too good to be true though, this idea of complete confidentiality. it was obvious to her that roland knew what he was talking about, though an irrational part of her worried how her privacy could be breached. there wasn't much logic associated with that sort of thinking, especially when she had roland's assurances, but when you're in a position where your career is hanging in the balance it's only natural you feel some sort of apprehension. either way, she would certainly feel a lot less willing to continue discussing this matter right now if roland wasn't being so patient with her. his sensitivity over the matter allowed her to remain open rather than fuelling her desire to retreat from their conversation altogether. she placed her palm against his bicep, now gingerly caressing his arm. "i think i would like that─ i mean, just looking into it at-least..i don't know though." a hint of wariness seemed to underlie her rather evasive words. seeing a civilian psychologist sounded promising, but even now that the decision was in her hands it was hard to make a choice. she could recognize that she needed to change how she was living her life but she still felt it was a daunting journey to commit herself to. the light sensation of roland's hand coming up to stroke the side of her head was enough to help ease some of the troubles plaguing her mind though, briefly clearing the noise of her own thoughts. it was as though his touch alone had the ability to give her some semblance of comfort, and what he was saying was certainly enough to disrupt her melancholy. she couldn't even help but a crack a smile over his remark regarding the broken aircraft they encountered earlier. that was certainly a tough situation but they both conducted themselves accordingly under the pressure they faced. jazmín wasn't sure if she even possessed the words to relay the full magnitude of appreciation and love she held for him. what roland said meant a lot to her. i'm lucky that you're in my life. i want you to stay in my life. what did she do in this life to deserve someone like him?
indenta moment passed and finally, the officer lifted her head from his chest. she briefly observed his darkened features in silence. "you know, you weren't all that bad earlier at the crash site yourself," she teased him. the lighthearted nature of her jest didn't do much to quell the somber mood that hung between them though. what brightened her expression was quick to fade from her countenance, accompanied only by her own quiet. her gaze remained on roland as one of her hands moved from its position at his upper arm and up his neck, her fingers entering his hair. "you're sure you would be okay with that, stepping back for a bit? i know you brought it up before, but i don't want you to feel like you're holding yourself back from any opportunities on my account either. i mean, that just wouldn't be fair." her voice was softer in tone, matching the quietude that seemed to be dawning over the medical tent, but a degree of seriousness returned to her comportment. having roland's support meant the absolute world to her but she didn't want him to bend over backward for her either. they spoke of taking a break following their enlistment contracts earlier and seemed to be in agreement over the idea but the additional process of seeking out mental health resources seemed to add another layer of complexity to the situation. jazmín didn't want to be a burden, and most importantly she didn't want to exasperate his willingness to be there her for, especially if she ended up getting cold feet in the end. it was evident to her that the two of them both deserved a break from the military, if only for a brief period of time, but she found it hard to tell whether or not that was something he truly wanted. what if he was just being flexible for her sake? roland wasn't exactly known for being upfront with his genuine feelings and she didn't want him to think he had no choice in what matters they discussed. this applied to more than just their current situation, too; jazmín has known herself to be controlling at times and it made her worry that roland would first try and accommodate her desires before his own. it was the same way she fancied the idea of moving into a new neighborhood and a decent house to match but she was only thinking of herself and not her boyfriend. regardless, she was trying to get better at prompting him to voice the way he felt about things. after all the time she spent missing out on his perspective because she was only ever considering her own wants and desires, it was about time she began nudging him to open up as well. jazmín leaned forward to place a peck against his cheek. "and hey, thank you." a great deal of weight was situated in her gratefulness for him. it was nice to hear what roland had to say. instead of returning to her previous position right away, she remained hovering above his own face. the woman hesitated. "but um, i think you deserve an apology from me. that..it wasn't right of me. that was a whole lot of something out of nowhere and i didn't mean to worry you or startle you or anything─ i don't even know where that came from. i just mean that everything is fine. really. i've just been thinking lately, but who knows. it's an idea to toss around anyway." a rather tense laugh followed her words. she watched him for a moment before lowering her chin onto his chest, peering up at him through her lashes. even if roland was okay with listening to what she had to say, she figured she still owed him an apology for the suddenness of it all. after all, she doubted he even knew about her recent desire to seek mental health resources to begin with. jazmín was being honest with him though; she wasn't in a particularly bad place right now, and she didn't want to raise any concern or invoke any suspicion on roland's end.
indentjazmín found it strange that the situation they landed themselves in today led to a relatively peaceful night for the two of them. sure, she wasn't feeling the best about what their overseer was going to have in store for them but on the other hand, she felt closer to roland. it was hard to say whether that was a result of their teamwork at the crash site or because of the time they've spent together in the medical tent, tending to each others wounds or talking about things that normally would fail to cross their everyday conversation. working in a separate fields, it's easy to miss out on things they might otherwise be able to experience with each other. it's no easy task to manage your emotions and your duties at once but being forced to endure critical situations and collaborate under pressure certainly strengthens your relationship with another person. of course, if it was up to her she would have avoided that situation with the mayor altogether, but at-least something significant arose from their experience. did roland feel this way too? to her, it was like they were still not close enough to each other right now despite sharing the same cot, breathing the same air; it was like she needed to envelop him in her affection and ensure he felt a sense of complete and utter security. she could not think of much right now at all besides how greatly she loved him. roland was completely right too. not a single soul in this world mattered except for them. nothing was right unless she had him at her side; in fact, she was convinced that the universe itself would be thrown off kilter if they were ever to be separated. roland was different from every single person she's encountered in life, be it family or friends. he saw her in a way that other people didn't, and he understood her without the need for words. they've changed and grown together and they've seen each other at their worst and at their best. it was hard to shake a bond like that, one that ran so deep it could stand unburdened by whatever external influences came to shove. jazmín's hand idly toyed with the locks that framed the side of his face, her fingers still half-curled in his hair. "so, what do you think. isn't this weird? after how long we've been doing our own things, i didn't think we would ever be assigned to a common taskforce. i'd say it looks like somebody got lucky to be working with me." she had to suppress the beginnings of a teasing grin from forming on her face. "let me guess though; i bet i'm not even half as entertaining as your marksmen buddies, am i? come on, surely you have to be warming up to me by now, right? and if navigating that broken aircraft wasn't enough to win you over, what's a woman got to do to steal her man's heart back from his dear colleagues, anyway? maybe drinks are on me the next time we find ourselves at a bar. i’m playing my best cards here, y’know." a hint of amusement lit up her features. she thought it was entertaining to poke some fun at roland, for he was probably used to spending his time out in the wasteland with snipers like himself rather than his girlfriend. it was pretty evident she was not being serious though. her mood certainly seemed to have improved since their previous conversation too. maybe talking it out with him did help her after all. jazmín tilted her head in curiosity, her eyes scanning his shadowed visage. "why don't you tell me a story from one of your previous deployments? i know you must have some more interesting memories from what you and your beloved colleagues experienced. there has to be something i haven't already heard before, hmm?"

[vaell]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa new hollywood supermodel and fashion influencer.
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indentthe weeks leading up to president morgan's inauguration dinner have been nothing short of hectic.
indentfashion week is always a glamorous presentation known to attract fashion industry insiders and journalists who flock to new hollywood to cover the event. headlines swarm media outlets for weeks, raving over newfound glimpses of unheard of talent or the disappointing tale of a once-beloved model returning from hiatus. some journalists even use the event as an opportunity to placate one of their publication's major advertisers after a previous slam, writing up an undeserved review to repay a social favor. others may give budding talent a pass even when the fashion fails to impress. the guest list of the shows are often overviewed by sales teams and publicists who woo celebrities well in advance, inviting them to fashion week months ahead of time. it's no surprise given that the appearance of a celebrity at a show has the potential to bring added value to a designer's prestige. during fashion week some of the most esoteric, theatrical and thought-provoking runway shows display the approaching seasons incoming designs to both clientele and the media. fashion week grants designers the opportunity to veer toward experimental approaches that can be just as confounding as expressionist art or atonal music. a great number of runway shows seek to leave their audience dumbfounded with an appreciation for the creative intellect behind the pieces that comprise a designer's collection. fashion week is universally regarded as pivotal because of the influence the event exerts over upcoming fashion trends in the industry. the shows aim to leave an impression on those watching and in a industry where impact has unfathomable sway, that tends to be business enough. the coordination of the week-long event is strategic in the fashion world too. presenting a spring collection at the beginning of january closely follows the retail cycle, enabling different retailers the time to purchase and incorporate the designers into their marketing before the start of the next season. though fashion week may seem like nothing more than a business convention, the fixed date of a fashion show also allows designers to end a creative cycle. for an in-demand girl like vivienne, fashion week meant walking up to nine shows per day for some of the most exclusive labels in new hollywood. the preparation leading up to fashion week itself is often equally as brutal. she spent the final week of december standing in lines with dozens of other models, waiting hours just to meet with a casting director for a few minutes. the scheduled fittings that follow could easily take hours as well, frequently running into the earliest hours of the morning. vivienne was sure she lost track of how many times she must have fallen asleep in a chair waiting to be fitted for her outfits that week. she walked in shows where light and expressive classic glamor gave way to going barefoot in playful rocker chic, and other shows that strove to achieve the classic french fantasy of hourglass couture. undoubtedly the different looks she wore during fashion week were still being raved about by some media outlets and then bashed by others for being too formulaic. she's been styled in idiosyncratic and outré couture ranging from crinoline-like skirts, unstructured panniers layered over silky shirts, black leather slung with belts all the way to artful cream jersey dresses. vivienne's look at the inauguration dinner this evening could be considered perhaps only half as dizzying as what she walked during fashion week. she and her two younger sisters settled on a theme to follow, each donning a black dress fabricated from a variety of well-known luxury labels. vivienne's shapely figure was accentuated by a short bandini-bancroft corset slip dress featuring romantic goth mesh detailing. when she shrugged, a thick chocolate brown mink fur coat slid from her shoulders and down to the crook of her elbows, exposing a plunging sweetheart neckline and a pair of thin shoulder straps supporting her dress. shortly after entering the banquet hall with her family, a nearby attendant whisked her coat away from her, revealing a set of black mesh opera gloves that ran up the length of her forearms. beneath a fringe of lashes her amber eyes surveyed the banquet hall. lustrous dark locks of hair accented her neat yet prominent features, and at her neck sat a golden chain and a dainty pendant of a heart engraved with the bantu jewelry logo framed with diamonds. her stature was elevated by a pair of red-soled stilettos with a pronounced arch, crafted from glossy black patent leather. there's a reason why vivienne bandini is known as one of the most lavish, sumptuous supermodels in new hollywood, both flamboyant and extravagant by the nature of her work yet palatable to the entire nation.
indentthe banquet hall hosting the dinner was impressive, an architectural wonder by every imaginable standard. the commonwealth knew how to challenge the grandeur of new hollywood and such was obvious by the mere size of the chamber. several columns decorated the perimeter of the room already filled with several long tables meant to seat a number of influential guests. those invited to attend the presidential dinner tonight were among the conclave's most prominent figures, including some of the military's finest officers and an array of the most influential new hollywood bigshots. crystal glass chandeliers accentuated with golden finishes hung suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the spacious room. the ornate lighting fixtures sat overhead of the multitude of tables below. rich scarlet tapestries trimmed with gold and embellished by the conclave's heraldry in thick black thread hung between the doric columns, elevating the regality of the hall. the atmosphere was certainly up to par for a formal welcome to the re-elected president and vice president. as she and her family were directed away from the entrance of the hall and toward the main chamber now beginning to brim with other conclave elites, vivienne could feel the light brush of her mother's hand against her back, gently ushering her and her youngest sister inside the heart of the banquet hall. her mother's urgency was quick to earn her a displeased look from her youngest daughter gianna who threw a pointed glance over her shoulder. the dark-haired sixteen year old girl wore a cutout mini dress with long draping sleeves adorned with crystal-cut bow accents sewn at her flared cuffs. what caught vivienne's eye was the shimmering silver necklace that gleamed against her throat. from it's supple chain hung a delicate bow pendant adorned with uncolored diamonds that lay suspended at her exposed collarbone, matching the detailing on her dress. the side of her mouth quirked upward. "awe, gia! is that the necklace i got you for your birthday?" the sound of shrill excitement in vivienne's voice felt like nails on a chalkboard to the teenager. despite the side-eye gianna was now giving her, she reached forward to inspect the pendant on her sister's necklace, pinching it between her index finger and thumb. the necklace was a designer piece that looked like something from bantu jewelry's 2432 summer collection, studded with edges of silver and diamond pavé now straddled in between her two black acrylic nails. a hand came up to swat away vivienne's own. she could spot the beginnings of a scowl looming over her younger sister's soft features. "stop it," gianna hissed between clenched teeth. "i thought bantu sent it to you for free before you pawned it off on me because you said it looked ugly. remember?" hm. did i do that? perhaps. vivienne hummed, giving her sister a nonchalant shrug before looking away. the younger girl rolled her eyes with a scoff, averting her gaze from her older sister. "whatever." as though sensing the brewing dissension between her daughters, her mother managed to take a step in between the two sisters, placing an arm around gianna's shoulders. the teenager rested the side of her head against the taller woman. "girls. play nice." as one of new hollywood's most adored supermodels, celine marrazzo-bandini's cachet has hardly dwindled since she's retired from the runway. dark and lustrous locks framed her structured face, tumbling down close to her waist. her angular cheekbones and catlike visage made her an unforgettable face in the modeling industry. tonight she too donned a black dress. made up of a square neckline, the garment boasted an asymmetric construction with fabric gathering and draping throughout, while a split in the skirts fabric revealed one of her slender legs. celine's career in the high fashion world may have come to an abrupt and relatively premature end but her early prominence has continued to keep her relevant throughout new hollywood. as a curious teenager vivienne could recall reading copies of old tabloids that seemed to have a lot to say when her mother chose to leave the runway behind. the woman told her that the lifestyle of a runway model didn't suit her, that she couldn't imagine being able to handle the constant pressure in a healthy manner for the rest of her life. even if she wasn't so tight-lipped about her situation the media would never buy her legitimate and honest reason for walking away. they just couldn't understand it. why would someone so promising throw their rising career away on a whim? the situation her mother once faced only proved that the press has always ever been invasive and parasitic, more determined to spread around speculation and circulate fraudulent gossip than to believe someone has simply lost interest in their career.
indentwhen vivienne glanced across the banquet chamber, she could spot a certain short-haired brunette navigating her way through those men and women standing around chatting. carmen was all but pushing her way through the crowd, and when the young woman suddenly emerged from the swarm of designer suits and dresses before them, she forced the trio to stop in their tracks. carmen was quick to cut to the chase, hardly acknowledging vivienne in the process. "mom. i know gia took my eyeliner. i can't find it anywhere, it's not in my bag─" the suede strap of the tan laurence williams purse hanging on her forearm slid down into her fist, "─and ever since we came to the commonwealth it's been missing. look, i know it's impossible for you to have an original thought but please gia, for once in your life could you ju-"
indent"carmen," her mother tutted. the discord between her three daughters was hardly anything out of the ordinary. they've been bickering regularly since their flight departing new hollywood. "listen to yourself. i think you can live a few hours without strangling us over your beloved eyeliner, not to mention going after your sister like that. where did your father go? i thought you two went to say hi to miss bancroft."
indentvisibly frustrated, the young woman had to refrain from making another comment. vivienne held the laugh she wanted to let out. she could almost guess what sort of retort was sitting on the tip of her sister's tongue. that eyeliner was one of aria's most exclusive drops this fall! she watched carmen cast her gaze downward, straightening out the gathered fabric in her mini dress. her dress bore thin straps and a pair of cut-out panels at her chest and her back. the layers of different golden jewelry hanging from her neck were half obscured by her shoulder-length umber hair. she let out a pronounced huff. "yeah, we did. and then i went to the powder room so i could dump all the makeup from my bag and try to find─ forget it."
indentspeak of the devil and he shall appear. a smile tugged at the corner of vivienne's mouth the moment she noticed her father catching up behind her younger sister. the man placed a hand on carmen's shoulder as he carefully stepped past her. "jesus carm. stop running away like that. you're gonna me look like a bad father." the young woman hardly looked up at him as he proceeded to approach their mother. gianna departed from their mother's side, wedging herself between vivienne and carmen. the look of debonair was artfully captured by the ceo of dimentico, whose presence oozed with effortlessness and charm. tonight dario bandini was donning a navy blue suit in a sophisticated cut and impeccable fall, creases running along his straight pants to add structure to his suit's silhouette. he wore a lightweight blazer buttoned once in the middle of his chest, exposing the collar of his white shirt and a tie around his neck. a soigné man, the way he dresses has always reflected his meticulous nature. "celine..." he mouthed a silent wow as he admired his wife, a playful lilt lifting his tone. "look at you. come here," vivienne watched the man lean forward to kiss her on the mouth, a hand coming up to cup the side of her face. her father snaked his opposite arm around their mother's waist, and the woman placed a hand against his chest. when they pulled away, a smile grew across her mother's painted lips. "hmm..you're not so bad yourself." gianna sent a revolted look toward vivienne. she and her sisters were used to their public displays of affection but given gianna's age, their enamored demonstrations often gave the younger girl more second-hand embarrassment than anything else. either way, their relationship had to be the reason vivienne's standards were so high. despite how long her parents have been together they never really seemed to have left the honeymoon stage. the two of them were still awestruck every time they laid eyes upon each other. it seemed rare to have a love like that. a moment passed between her parents before her mother finally returned her attention toward her three daughters. "i think that's enough loitering around...and dario, you've already greeted half the hall. why don't we take a seat? as a matter of fact, i believe we're sharing a table with the auclair's tonight. it's been far too long since we've caught up with chandler and gisèle, don't you think.." while her sisters seemed to visibly perk up in interest, vivienne was quick to tune out whatever else her mother was saying. she couldn't help but draw her brows together, betraying her otherwise indifferent expression. the auclair family. this had to be one of the most outrageous proposals she's heard since arriving in the commonwealth. if it weren't for the predetermined seating plan then she would've thought sitting with the auclair family was another one of her mother's fabulous ideas. "what?" vivienne blurted, interrupting her mother while she was speaking. the older woman paused mid-word, pursing her lips. her father looked over at her. celine gave her daughter a questioning look, enough to squeeze a hesitant albeit apologetic smile out of her. "sorry. it's just..i was under the impression we were going to be seated with the bancroft's tonight. i was so looking forward to catching up with dominica." her words elicited an amused bark of laughter from her father. "you can do that later. she'll only talk your ear off about winning the bid for aleksic's jealous end. you know how that woman loves her art." vivienne's jaw tightened. she shouldn't even be surprised her parents were being so insistent on reuniting with the auclair bunch. after all, it's no secret her mother has been friends with gisèle auclair dating all the way back to her earliest days in the limelight. vivienne knew she cherished her friendship with the other woman. whenever gisèle's name gets brought up her mother can somehow always recall some fond memory or another with the golden-haired star. to be honest, it's always been surprising to vivienne how adoringly her mother looked back on the time she spent with gisèle. it wasn't like her to effuse over someone she knew from that period of her life. celine hardly brought up her experiences in the high fashion industry let alone the people she used to associate with. she supposed they must have forged a close bond with each other during their younger years.
indent"..i know, right? mylan's sisters, they've always given me these off vibes. at-least he's hot though." a sound of agreement came from gianna. her and carmen's quiet side-conversation managed to catch vivienne's attention. she looked over at the pair. not that long ago carmen was about ready to kill gianna but as usual they fell back into their routine of trivial gossip. vivienne couldn't resist the urge to intrude on their hushed conversation. while her mother and father fell back into conversation with one another, she quieted her voice to a volume similar to gianna and carmen's own. "hey, i thought you had better taste than that. falling for trashy rock stars is a no-no, carmen." she teased. the eighteen year-old looked up at her, giving her a look of disbelief. "oh please, don't act like you've never thought as much." vivienne crossed her arms. she knew mylan auclair the same way the rest of the country did. he was the new hollywood pinnacle of audacious behavior, half scorned by a large portion of the music industry rejecting the so-called contemporary era and half praised by people like her sister carmen who did nothing but drool over his good looks and so-called charming disposition. though he rarely makes appearances on talk shows or the like, it's impossible to evade the grip mylan seems to have over the music world. if you turn on the radio, what do you hear? an overplayed track from famous lovers. unfortunately the musician was practically inescapable. beyond his prevalence in the media, she knew him from his brief endeavors into modeling or from his wild performances alone...and perhaps the occasional afterparty or two. what made mylan so full of himself was no mystery to her either. she knew his kind, grossly confident thanks to years of looking into crowds full of faces that adore him. in her experience most people like mylan auclair are little more than walking circuses once you actually meet them on a personal level. vivienne was sure he was used to getting whatever he wanted thanks to his well-known reputation, hooking up with whatever man or woman suited him best without so much as batting an eye. after all, mylan's involvement in relationship scandals with other well-known new hollywood celebrities is hardly a secret. when he couldn't woo her the moment they first locked eyes she could bet it must have been a blow to his inflated ego. it made her wonder how wounded he must have felt when she stood him up a couple months back. vivienne could presume that was something of a rare situation for mylan to find himself in considering how many people might be obliged to throw themselves at his feet. of course, he did manage to retaliate against her not long thereafter. when the rock star failed to follow up on any of her messages weeks after she stood him up, he certainly did his best to make sure it was her turn to feel the sharp sting of embarrassment. haha. maybe that was deserved after all. not only did she reach out to him after some time but her explanation for standing him up in the first place was a whole mess of an excuse anyway. so-called impromptu meetings with your agent tend to have that effect. vivienne could guess that he probably ended up making an appearance at the event he invited her to with someone else on his arm anyway. all things considered he didn't really seem like the type to get hung up on whatever it was that happened between them. keeping her distance from mylan since then has truly been for the best though. most people who achieve his level of success and fame are no different from the next superstar or new hollywood heavyweight and she refused to believe mylan went unaware of his own magnetism. he must recognize the sort of pull he has over other people, and strangely enough herself included. he fascinated her in the same way art and fashion do, two synonymous outlets for expression that refuse to conform to any single ideal, and like all creative pursuits his stardom didn't come unchallenged. she thought a part of her could admire him for his persistence and determination. even the most fault-finding and condemning of men and women among the new hollywood elite have seemingly done little to hinder his spirit or his greatness. to trudge through the disapproval of others for years on end, a person must be invested in what they do or at-least started out with a passion in mind. in all likelihood, music was to him what couture was to her. if there was anything she wanted to know about mylan auclair, then perhaps that was it. what drives him? it had to be more than just the thrill of ticking a few people off or impressing the masses. either way, it was more fun imagining him being something beyond just another superficial face.
indentby the time her parents set off to navigate the hall arm-in-arm she found herself trailing behind the couple with her two younger sisters in tow. whenever they passed by a table full of familiar faces her mother and father would flash a smile in one direction or another, but vivienne noticed the way her mother would clutch her father's arm once they were out of earshot, leaning toward him to whisper something inaudible in his ear. whatever she was telling him earned her a snicker of amusement. they were probably sharing a laugh over the last couple they greeted. she recognized the man as one of her father's work associates. poor alejandro. he just couldn't get away from the cheating allegations, could he? boo-hoo. friendly faces and kind words conceal the hideous side of the new hollywood social scene and even her parents weren't an exception. celine and dario have both been roped into the tides of speculation by the media and they've faced scrutiny from their peers and the public because of it but that didn't stop them from having their own laughs about the scandal that has befallen other people. when vivienne was younger her father's name used to be plastered all over the tabloids during the time he and his brothers had a falling out both professionally and personally. though ultimately heralded for his hefty success in the fashion industry, there was a time when media outlets tried to take advantage of her family's situation in an effort to smear her father's name alongside her two uncles. being the brother of an accused tainted-blood sympathizer and a man caught red-handed in tax fraud made for the perfect headlines. the deplorable conduct her uncles marcello and cristiano projected to the world hardly put a dent in the bandini family name though. when her father established the now-national corporation and conglomerate dimentico, his growing accomplishments trumped the shortcomings of his brothers and made the bandini-bancroft feuds an irrelevant piece of news. dario immortalized himself when he took over the reins of the company, turning what was once a family group into a corporation capable of absorbing a vast majority of the luxury brands now dominating the fashion marketplace. as a manufacturer and marketer of luxury goods, the conglomerate now owns various sought after names like bandini-bancroft, zanzara or laurence williams, well-known fashion houses that vivienne has campaigned with since her early adolescence. since being ousted from bandini-bancroft affairs her family has had little to do with her two uncles. vivienne doubted the likelihood of marcello or cristiano even being granted an invitation to the inauguration dinner to begin with. their tarnished reputations would never allow them the same treatment as her or the rest of her family. there wouldn't be a long rectangular table reserved in their names, set by a polished black walnut surface. the straight grain pattern of the deep chocolate tones on surface of the tables dotting the banquet hall exuded both splendor and refinement, enhancing the gold-finished base of the tabletop. even a few paces behind her parents and now her sisters she could spot the white place card positioned in the middle of a table, the bandini and auclair family names inscribed in cursive. a number of unoccupied chairs were pushed in to the table already set with cutlery and plates. sophisticated flute-shaped champagne glasses accompanied white plates and cloth serviettes. similar to the tables, the chairs tucked beneath tabletops were classical with black faux leather exterior contrasted by a golden metal inlay.
indent"hey, vivienne! that you?"
indenther attention briefly flickered to the table on her right. the supermodel had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. older men wearing their finest black suits populated the table, all of whom were familiar faces to her. she met some of them through modeling shoots and others through her agent. part of the pleasure of being in the business was having connections to various fashion moguls, modeling directors and high fashion designers. she's worked all of these men at one point or another. as close as she comes to new hollywood royalty, this lot could rival her level of fame. quite frankly though she didn't have time to be entertaining a bunch of slimy knuckleheads right now. having her parents on her case for flocking around and visiting other tables all night was the last thing vivienne needed. without even so much as acknowledging the men, she carried on walking as though she never heard them to begin with. ahead of her, her father was pulling out a chair for her mother while gianna and carmen claimed the two seats to the left of her mother. before vivienne could advance too far though, a hand clasped her arm. she paused in her tracks, all but forced to come to a halt. the cold sting of silver metal rings felt like needles against her bare skin. now having to face the guests at the table, the man holding her in his grip managed to get a good look at her. "knew it was. how you doin'?" an impressed whistle sounded out from someone at the table in a joking attempt at flattery. her eyes wandered over to the expensive champagne bottle sitting in the center of their table. no surprise there. she brought a smile to her lips though it was hardly genuine. "oh, just wonderful. clearly not as good as you gentlemen though. it looks like you're already enjoying the night." the men couldn't deny it either. a few of them even exchanged an amused glance over her comment. vivienne couldn't help but anxiously glance over her shoulder to where her family was now seated. when she noticed her mother was looking over at her too, she quickly looked away. it was hard to discern the older woman's expression though it was certainly not a pleased one. "well? what are you up to later tonight?" the man's comment caught her wandering attention. it was like she could feel their eyes boring into her, eagerly waiting for a response. she finally freed her arm from his hand, a mischievous look crossing her features. "wouldn't you like to know?" the model teased, taking a step back with a wink. as the sound of laughter spread throughout the seated men, she slowly drifted away from the table while blowing them a farewell kiss with her hand. as soon as she tore away from their table she couldn't help but pick up her pace to catch up with her family. when her mother looked back over her shoulder again, vivienne mouthed a sorry to her, making haste to pull out a chair on the opposite side of the older woman. though an adult now, celine has always been rather picky over who vivienne chose to associate with. she wasn't meddlesome in the slightest but she did have a habit of chiming in with unexpected remarks every now and then. vivienne didn't take offense. she knew her worry stemmed from a place of motherly love. besides, her fame has arguably surpassed what was once her mother's own and that had to be a daunting notion for the older woman to face. vivienne was at a point in her career where she could hardly play country club sports in public without the paparazzi encroaching on her privacy. not even her pastimes outside of modeling were safe from prying eyes. considering her parents have always been huge on golf and tennis, it's no surprise that the supermodel was raised playing both since she was a kid. her family's estate is nestled in a community on the outskirts of a golf course and country club. their property even boasted a private tennis court in the expanse of their yard, a convenient way for her to get some private coaching lessons in as a kid. before vivienne could finally take a seat at the table though, she noticed something - or rather someone - caught her mother's attention, her sharp features brightening in recognition. "that must be them─ vivienne, why don't you be a dear and help gisèle and chandler to their seats?" honestly, vivienne didn't mind obliging her. even if she herself didn't feel particularly enthused over seeing the auclair family, it was evident to her that celine was excited to see her old friends again. so instead of grumbling she gave her mother a small smile before leaving her own seat unattended. across from where her family seated themselves several chairs remain unoccupied for the auclair family. there, vivienne drew out two chairs before the couple and their children could arrive, as per her mother's request. she remained hovering next to the seats so that when the auclair family approached the table she could properly greet them with a kiss on both their cheeks for formalities sake. vivienne wanted to get a good look at mylan, too. she was curious to uncover whether or not he was holding anything against her given their last encounter. either way her own interest seemed all the more reason for her to be the first to receive him and his family. she certainly didn't feel uncomfortable seeing him again, nor could anything about her body language suggest otherwise. vivienne has always been fortunate enough to be naturally confident in herself though. there was going to be very little that mylan auclair could do to tone down her pert attitude, and no past run-ins between the two of them had the power of reducing her to complete nerves either.
indentfrom the opposing side of the table, she could hear her mother already beginning to gush over the sight of gisèle.

[vaermina]

ＭＹＬＡＮ ＡＵＣＬＡＩＲxxx
I.xcis malex II.xnew hollywoodx III. a musician/songwriter affiliated with the conclave


indentmylan has never attended an inauguration dinner before.
indenthe was not sure what to make of it. in fact, he had no idea what he had been expecting prior to their arrival. it was very... pristine? sumptuous? resplendent in the most gaudy and tasteless way possible? mylan was not surprised. the atmosphere felt very imposing and everyone was dressed rather stately. there was an overabundance of luxurious diamond chokers and flashy gemstone rings in the crowd tonight. everyone was vying for the attention and admiration of their peers. women entered the banquet hall with their biggest gowns on display. most of them were colorful and painfully posh with various lace styling and complicated patterns. their hair was big and distinguished, styled to touch the night sky with a heap of hairspray and one hairstylist's unrealistic dream. others chose to go a more gentle route for the evening by donning simple halter dresses or the occasional maxi and bodycon gown. the men looked awfully pitiful compared to their dates but mylan has long since come to the realization that most men will never do their best to stand out amongst a crowd. tables were set up to accommodate the huge crowd of elites. some were draped in satin red tablecloths - others went without them, instead choosing to showcase the polished surfaces as is - with sparkling china set neatly in front of each cushioned chair. the table centerpieces were dazzling in and of themselves. bouquets of fresh roses, pincushions, snapdragons and solomios had been placed delicately into thin glass vases surrounded by ivory candles and bundles of twisted garland. each table sat a comfortable distance away from each other. the banquet hall itself was decorated quite richly. it was garbed in banners and balloons of sangria, ebony and canary with red and yellow tinsel wrapped firmly around its many thick pillars and grand staircases. ribbons were tied from the hall's old iron wall sconces. there were posters hanging from the rafts of the over-arching ceiling that bore the faces and names of president rehan morgan and his most influential supporters. the banquet hall itself was two stories; each one held a significant amount of guests in no particular order or fashion. there was a decent-sized stage on the first floor where a band of musicians played classical songs for those who were willing to listen. servers carefully navigated their way through the massive throng of people so they could deliver trays of ridiculous eccentric food to their hungry patrons. mylan supposed that the menu presented tonight wasn't that bizarre but it was nothing the average wastelander would ever have the pleasure of trying: salmon caviar, garlic butter lamb chops, stuffed eggplant with black bean sauce, duck confit, wagyu ribeye steak, cubana mix spring rolls. there was a bar located near the stage that offered drinks beyond what wine bottles could be found in each table's wine cooler. a massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling's rafters, its gems twinkling and gleaming in the banquet hall's amber lighting. most of the reception's guests were already sitting at their respective tables, forks jabbing into their meals and wine glasses clinking together to celebrate the occasion. it was truly a scene that belonged in a magazine but nothing in the banquet hall quite stood out as the cylinder glass enclosure in the middle of the ballroom. it was a massive display that reached up to the ceiling and it drew the attention of all those who first enter the building's luxurious ballroom. an agitated azurys resided inside of it. the creature circled the enclosure in obvious disconcertment. it was a handsome creature with white and rosewood plumage and troubled blue eyes. a good chunk of its feathers lay scattered on the sandy ground of its enclosure. it looked like the azurys has spent a good chunk of its time ripping out its own feathers. the azurys ignored the slabs of meat that were dispensed inside its enclosure earlier today. it spent most of its time pacing or lifting itself upon the artificial tree limbs that jutted from the ground. it was a rather scrawny thing. bones protruded from beneath its skin and there were dried scabs across its body from where it has picked needlessly at its plumage. it looked like its talons have been filed down to avoid having it potentially scratch at the glass. the azurys did not try to fly. there was no room for it to go and it was probably so weak it wasn't able to lift itself off the ground anymore.
indentmylan could see the anxious azurys in the reflection of his wine glass. he watched the animal flap its wings before it retreated underneath the large thicket of artificial branches and hedges inside its enclosure. his aunt chuckled from where she walked beside him. "my sister nicolette would skin that animal alive, glue its feathers onto some mildly average tote bag and call it fashion." honorine snorted before she began to dig in her purse for a pack of cigarettes. "smoke, mylan?" honorine kirosauc was the type of person to carry a very distinctive air about themselves. she was intimidating, cunning and wily and he's never known anyone quite as steely as her. she was hard to please and carried a dry sense of humor about her that made it almost impossible to catch her off guard with a joke. she was the voice of reason in a family full of dreamers and entertainers. there was a reason why she pursued a career in law and business. honorine possessed a cutthroat mentality when it came her and her family's place in this world. he's always known her to be rather astute with her approach to life but it seems like her shrewdness has only increased with age. she helped keep her family's business afloat and she did not do it by playing nice. she's made a reputation for herself by tearing down smaller production companies and blacklisting performers who attempt to go against their contracts. she's brought plenty of people to court for violating the terms of their indentures. she's brought fines, legal classes and even jail-time to those who breached their terms of servie with the company. she sought reasonable opportunities to boost the new california cinemas production company's revenue and control of the film and television industry without involving too much risk. actors who belong to a union? hard pass. performers who hire legal counsel to help them navigate a lengthy contract? it depends. an agency's legal department always looks out for their agents, not their clients so it can be dubious for those overlooking the process like honorine. some performers don't know their worth or their potential gains. it's easy to manipulate someone fresh in the industry to give away their intellectual property or commit to a perpetuity contract. representations, warranties, terms of agreement, merchandise, exclusivity, back-end payments; it was like a game of chess for his aunt. she would never let an eminent opportunity pass her by but she was intelligent enough to keep her clients' popularity in mind and craft their contracts based on what she could gain from them. some might label the older woman as unsympathetic and morally dubious but that was just the way she was. it's not easy keeping a giant industry afloat when competition continues to pop up left and right. she had no qualms taking a smaller film company by the throat and draining them of their resources and wealth by bombarding them with legal trouble and stealing their performers, production crews and screenwriters with thinly veiled contracts that hide a slue of misery. honorine is excellent at what she does for a reason. she kept the train from derailing and her family loved her for it. her ruthlessness felt so miniscule when compared to her perseverance. mylan has always known her to be a headstrong yet ambiguous woman. she was the one who snuck him cigarettes as a teenager and slipped him his phone underneath his bedroom door whenever he was grounded. she was not easily perturbed by his mother's more spirited ways and they were surprisingly close for women who viewed the world so differently. they were cousins but considered each other sisters due to being raised together.
indentmylan cleared his throat. he accepted her offer. "thanks for asking when we're like, what, two hours into the dinner and you've already smoked half the pack?"
indent"wise asses don't get cigarettes so remember that the next time you try and give me lip."
indentif one were to ask the unpretentious and simple-minded denizens of the wasteland what they think about some of new hollywood's wealthiest and elitist families, the answer would be lackluster. it's no secret that the industry is controlled through multiple branches by various industrialists but there are so many merchant princes and business magnates nowadays that it is impossible to make a clear distinction between some of the entities who dominate new hollywood. the kiroauc-auclair family was no exception to this sea of ghosts. they were a family of fat cats who control a big portion of new hollywood's fast-paced and often problematic film and television industry. the monarch of the kiroauc clan, aloïs, paved himself a legacy by cementing his family's place in a competitive field that would surely award those who managed to claw their way to the top. the kiroauc-auclair name represents and produces some of the finest films and performers in new hollywood. they created the new california cinema productions, one of the four big entertainment conclave companies focused on the production and national distribution of film and television content across the country. it was a notoriously ruthless industry. new california cinema productions is run exclusively by the family who created it. its board members are handpicked friends and associates, and creative control of the company is entirely in the family's hands. it's not a bizarre business model; most companies in new hollywood are run by blood and those who are hired for top executive positions are usually close friends of the families in question. honorine kiroauc, sybille kiroauc-spade and chandler auclair were amongst those who have inherited the company's leadership from the now retired aloïs kiroauc. their different personalities and ways of handling difficult situations created an idiosyncratic dynamic between the three of them. honorine was knowledgeable in the art of corporations and law while chandler auclair provided a unique insight into the world of thespianism. chandler earned his position as one of the company's leading directors through his marriage to gisèle, the eldest daughter of aloïs and his wife félicité. gisèle auclair had no interest in running her father's company although she certainly bore enough influence to convince her husband to cater its agendas to her own benefit. nobody expected her to possess an aptitude for industrialism, anyway. gisèle was one of many performers who grew up in the new hollywood scene. she began her film career as a child actress, starring in feel-good television shows and comedy dramas with little production value until she grew older and began to direct her ambitions towards new horizons. her breakout role came about when she starred in the highly successful television show aftermath, a role that won her several accolades and triggered her rapid rise to stardom. she was - alongside her equally beautiful sister sybille - the darling of new hollywood, a glamorous and endearing woman of the press and acting industry. gisèle has always enjoyed her time in the spotlight and there was nothing she loved more than her work and the benefits it entailed. she was the definition of a blonde bombshell, a career savvy siren of the silver screen who represented adventuresomeness in film genres and sophisticated yet warm behavior in both the workplace and public settings. she always had a smile on her face when she was photographed at events and she got along harmoniously with everyone in just about any environment. her acts of philanthropy towards the lower class and providing resources for those who did not have the same opportunities she did as a child were well-known and well-documented. she taught classes on acting at loyola marymount university, too, a pursuit that she took quite seriously. gisèle was dedicated to her craft but not in a way that made her unpleasant or difficult to work with. gisèle was marveled for not only her kind personality but the impact she has made on the industry and like many others who came into the limelight during the insurgence of nation-wide entertainment, gisèle quickly reached star status. in keeping with her status and catering to her comfort as a child who often worked a packed schedule, her father aloïs even built her and her younger sister a four-room bungalow at one of his company's studios with a butterfly garden, a picket fence, a steel swing set, and a rabbit pen. the sisters no longer had use for the bungalow and it was now preserved and proudly displayed for the public to visit during a studio tour.
indentgisèle was the mother of seven children and creeping well into her fifties but it was difficult to tell upon first impressions. she has retained her shapely form through vigorous exercise. her mother claimed she crawled right out of the novel gentlemen prefer blondes for there was no greater beauty than that of her daughter - something that most mothers can attest to when it comes to their children. the woman was a devout user of topical retinoids and loved her set of jade face rollers more than anything in the world. her hair was the color of cool beige, tinted with flecks of light silver and styled in a classic wave and her makeup was light and subtle. her makeup artist took liberties in sculpting her already high cheekbones by using two different shades of blush; her jawline had been contorted to make it what she liked to call less 'blocky'. gisèle rarely caked her face in product because her features were strong enough as it is. her eyebrows only needed to be lightly filled in and warm taupe eyeshadow in the colors driftwood and indian river had been packed neatly onto her eyelids. she was rarely spotted with dark makeup on. she adored nude lipsticks and eyeshadows. the actress chose a rather simple yet elegant dress to wear for the inauguration dinner. she wore a floor length evening ivory-colored gown that featured an a-line silhouette, flowing chiffon skirt with draped detailing on the back and a hand-working pleated bodice with a strapless neckline. she had a pair of pale opera gloves pulled up to her elbows and a diamond festoon necklace hanging about her throat. the necklace featured sixty four carats of round brilliant and baguette cut diamonds set in platinum, a gift from her mother and father. like most of new hollywood's beau monde, gisèle oozed opulence and fortune but mylan has never viewed her as some sort of untouchable and haughty braggart. she was his mother and one of the only stable figures he's ever known. she did her best to provide him with a sense of normalcy as a child for such pleasures are rarely given to those born into influential families. granted, mylan was a child of divorce and he spent most of his time deviating between households but his mother tried her best to give him an ordinary childhood. she and his step-father chandler never lost themselves in the art of their craft. they were unavailable at times, sure and slaved well into the night to meet production deadlines or reshoot quotas but mylan could not recall ever feeling neglected because of their statuses in the industry. most of what he remembered from his childhood was fond summer afternoons spent in the rolling slopes of calabasas. his mother and step-father owned an impressive gallo-roman tour-de-force estate in a small, privately gated community where mylan and his younger half-siblings spent their youth. it had been something of a personal castle for younger mylan. it was built by his great grandfather in a community not yet infested with the likes of new hollywood's newest and biggest stars before his grandfather inherited the property. the home was a crown jewel amidst the wealth and assets curated by the kiroauc family. built atop its own promontory ridge, his mother's house was a grand-scale estate with cross vault ceilings, custom impressionist murals, floor-to-ceiling windows, european appointments and stonework, marie antoinette flooring and custom carved travertine fireplaces with extraordinary crown molding. its craftsmanship was lost on children. mylan remembered being baffled by the home's roman bathtubs and its numerous powder rooms that boasted large venetian windows, ones that were far too tall for younger mylan to even attempt to open but his mother loved it. she spent most of her time in her suite's custom-built walk-in closet and his step-father the theatre and wine cellar. mylan and his younger half-siblings spent most of their time chasing each other throughout the halls and down the grand staircase. there were so many cupboards, bathrooms, suites and closets to hide in that a game of hide and seek could last for hours. they spent warm afternoons outside in the pool where his mother would sit and read her scripts on a lounge chair and his step-father would watch them play through the french glass doors of his office space. they'd play games like marco polo and mermaids or host childish competitions on who could hold their breath the longest or who could dive the furthest in the deep end. nobody was left out and that included the youngest siblings at the time. mylan could not count the amount of times where he would guide toddlers hugo and clementine around the pool while they were nestled in their float canopies, their skin a milky shade of white from the sunscreen their mother would rub all over them.
indent"why can't we sit with uncle lyam and aunt gwen? i wanna see aspen and aniko!" clementine complained. she pulled on her father's sleeve, her sharp gaze eyeing his hand defiantly from where it gripped her shoulder.
indentchandler huffed. "how many times do i have to tell you that the seating is pre-arranged? i can't control it and neither can your mother."
indent"seriously clementine? i don't see why you always have to give mom and dad a hard time," léna interjected from where she walked beside mylan. "you always have to act like some unhinged wasteland animal. totally not classy." she earned herself a harsh glare from her younger sister. "nobody's talking to you!" clementine snapped. the tension between the two sisters was heavy but nothing particularly abnormal. they were always at odds with one another. his grandmother liked to joke that there was no bigger crime in this world than being a misunderstood teenage girl and clementine was currently ensnared in that cumbersome, awkward stage where she constantly compared herself to others. she and her older sister léna were complete opposites and it was obvious by the way they interacted with each other. clementine did not see her sister as a friend but rather an unobtainable and covetous image of youthful beauty and vogue. despite being nineteen years old, léna has already established a reputation for herself amongst the socialites of new hollywood. she was a freshly bloomed editorial and commercial model, having made her careful debut in a closet chic campaign at the age of sixteen years old. she began her career by modelling for clothing brands before shifting to cosmetics and high fashion. her face was plastered all over beauty retail stores, marketing the release of new makeup launches belonging to a number of well-known cosmetic brands. she became an official cover girl earlier this month after making the front page of prodigy's january issue. her photoshoot was styled to mimic sandro botticelli's the birth of venus where she stood in a giant scallop shell off the shore of greece. it was an eloquent and poetic depiction. they had styled léna in a tunic of cream soft cotton with dark olive ribbons coursing around her waist and the length of her body; on either side of her stood the wind god zephyr, aura and one of the three horae. their mother liked to say that she was a spitting image of classical antiquity. she did not bear a mark of modernism through sculpted cheekbones, thin eyebrows and treated hair. she had a softer face than most in the industry with chubby cheeks, large dimples, thick eyebrows and freckled skin. her hair was the color of corn and her skin kissed by the sun. she was beautiful in a way that allowed her to retain aspects of her youth. out of all the auclairs, she was dressed the most opulently. she wore a burgundy velvet bustier dress embroidered with dozens of glass beads. the beads were scattered all over the skirt of her dress; they were placed in a much more meticulous fashion along the bodice. the gown bore a plunging sweetheart neckline and an assembly of velvet feathers along the shoulders. she wore gloves of the same material and color, and forked a thin scarlet veil that wrapped around her waist and curled around her elbows and forearms. she opted for minimal makeup this time with most of the grandeur going towards her dress and the crystal star diadem she wore atop her head. it was a gorgeous but rather mature look and the young woman has spent a better part of the night dodging her father's attempts to put his jacket over her shoulders. it was a direct contrast to what her younger sister wore to the dinner. clementine's gown was much more modest, far less extravagant and absolutely repulsive in her eyes. she called it a ruffled lace disaster for a majority of its skirt, sleeves and waistline were ruffled and layered. it consisted of a white petticoat with thin and intricate sleeve frills, a frilled collar, an array of fabric shank buttons down the front of her blouse and a thick red ribbon around the waist. her petticoat had many layers to it and threatened to swallow anyone who got too close. it was an unostentatious gown - something that their mother preferred her youngest daughter to wear - but clementine found it ghastly. she was jealous of the fact that léna was allowed to wear what she wanted but her siblings knew it ran deeper than that. clementine had a habit of projecting her insecurities and inclinations onto her older sister. the fourteen year old was uncomfortable in her own body and undergoing changes that every girl her age has the displeasure of experiencing. she compared herself to others on a daily basis and thought herself too lanky, too gawky, too callow for her own tastes. léna was so effortlessly winsome and well-spoken that her sister's hypnotic appeal and elegant mannerisms clashed with clementine's own struggles with adolescence. why was she not as amiable as her sister? what did she need to do to make herself more likable, to have more friends? why did her sister get all the attention and not her? clementine has always been a temperamental person. she was capricious, harsh and irascible and her personality clashed with her sister's more laidback and somewhat showy ways. léna was effortlessly flawless - at-least she appeared to be that way - and it agitated her sibling. léna was praised for her beauty and promise while clementine was scolded constantly for bloodying boys' noses in the schoolyard and smoking cigarettes in the girls bathroom whilst skipping classes.
indent"hey, not all wasteland animals are bad, you know," mylan said. he handed his empty wine glass to a server walking by. "you ever heard of lurkers, clem? léna? "
indent"maybe. i don't know. what are they?"
indent"well, they're this type of amphibian-like monster that lives up north by the coast. they're really weird-looking, y'know. they have big heads, fat legs, long arms-" mylan playfully poked her in her side, eliciting a small giggle from the teenager, "and super freaky tongues. nobody knows where they came from but they only lurk at night when it's cold, rainy and dark. the people who live on the coast have to deck the outside of their homes in light to keep the lurkers away. they cover their windows and nail them shut, too. you know why? because they love to go after bratty fourteen and nineteen year old girls who refuse to stop being jackasses to one another. they lo-"
indent"dad! will you please tell mylan to shut up?" léna scowled.
indent"i wasn't finished, fathead! anyway... circling back to their tongues, their favorite organs to eat are the eyes because that's how they're able to access the brai-"
indent"dad!"
indent"alright, alright, that's enough mylan," chandler laughed. "i think you made your point. léna, clem, let's try to act civilized tonight, okay? you know your mother hates it when the two of you fight and these type of events are so important to her." garbed in a sleek beige suit with leather suspenders and a blue striped undershirt, chandler auclair chose to dress modestly for the inauguration dinner. he has always been a smaller character than his wife, humble and lighthearted with a good sense of humor and awareness of how he chose to occupy any given space. he was not rambunctious or obnoxious but he was not quiet, either. he was the perfect blend of pleasantness and agreeableness. chandler has never strove to be glamorous like some new hollywood bigshots. the man was perfectly content with the charm he already possessed. he was rarely involved in any scandals or tabloid media although his marriage to mylan's mother had been a big source of controversy when it was made public. they got together not long after she divorced her first husband, murdoch whelan, and the conspiracies came rolling in a short time later. the press speculated that gisèle and chandler had been seeing each other for months prior to her divorce and that mylan was probably chandler's son for he was born only a few months before the separation. mylan remembered his mother always dressing him in heavy coats and big hats as a child to hide his face from the cameras whenever they went out in a public setting for tabloid reporters loved to try and get pictures of him to compare his features with the men gisèle has been involved with over the years. that was the craze when mylan was a child for there was no better drama in new hollywood than infidelity, child parentage and nasty divorces. mylan distinctly remembered the moments where he would be sitting on his mother's bed and watching her television after these outings and hearing her cry on the phone in the bathroom about the intense media speculation. she was most likely speaking to either celine, her sister or her cousins; her trusted confidantes. "come, i think i see your mother over there with margot and hugo. it looks like she's heading to our table. i should have known she'd be racing to see the bandini's without us."
indentthe bandini's. mylan had to swallow a laugh at the mere mention of the other family. the bandini's were a family of affluent socialites who, much like the auclairs, dominated their respective industry of the new hollywood scene. they were fashion magnates who changed the landscape for couture and glamour across the board. their art was legendary; mylan's editorial and celebrity fashion stylist has commissioned several articles of clothing and pieces of jewelry manufactured by the fashion houses underneath the dimentico name for mylan to wear. he's performed in and witnessed fashion shows where models would walk in pieces tailored by the multi-industry company and he's seen advertisements for their brands such as doceur and bantu jewelry on television. they changed the game for the fashion industry by revolutionizing haute couture and expanding their own outreach through the acquisition of smaller fashion labels. models yearned to be paradigm staples for the brand and fashion designers dreamed of the chance to work and style for them for who did not want their faces or personal inventions pasted on the glass of a storefront window? the bandini's wielded a lot of power in their own respective rights but mylan knew them best through the relationship they had with his mother. she adored celine marrazzo-bandini. they were friends during their early years in the spotlight and time has only strengthened the bond they shared with one another. he's seen pictures taken of the two during their youth where they were followed by paparazzi as they shopped and dined in beverly hills together and he's seen articles speculating and discussing their friendship as the two dominated the catwalk scene. celine's career in the fashion industry was rather short-lived for reasons mylan did not know about but his mother left the modeling profession not long after her friend in an act of solidarity. they've remained close ever since. gisèle could often be found sitting at her luxurious gold and oak vanity talking on the phone with celine as she applied her beauty creams or inviting the other woman over for brunch underneath her home's orchid-covered pergola. the bandini's have always been a vague presence throughout mylan's life and he's always felt courteous towards dario and celine but the same could not be said for their children. he was already anticipating the cold shoulder from their eldest daughter. vivienne bandini was the type of woman you only see on magazine covers. like her mother before her, she was a distinguished supermodel who has spent the past few years dominating the runway. she was attractive, beguiling and glamorous and she knew it, too. there were very few models in the industry that could live up to her extensive portfolio, wealth and seductive appeal. she was most known for showcasing clothes from fashion designers, fashion media, and consumers but he's seen photos of her plastered all over editorial magazines and beauty photoshoots too. vivienne was a starlet in her own respective industry but even she could not compete with the class her parents exhibited. her run-ins with the paparazzi and alleged cat fights backstage with other models was not exactly a secret. the tabloids had a ball with her histrionic conduct and most of what mylan knew of her came from third party resources. despite the friendship between their parents', mylan and vivienne have never been close and the first and only time he tried to break the ice with her was met with disappointment. his friends insisted that their mutual fumble was a good thing for nothing came good out of getting mixed up with a model. they're far too high-strung and catty to bother yourself with and most are under such strict contracts that it's doubtful they'd be allowed to interact with controversial music figures to begin with. mylan was not sure how he felt towards her. she was a beautiful woman, graceful and distinguished on the runway but allegedly touchy and irritable in person. vivienne was not the type of woman to stick around if she thought you were a bore. men coveted her and you should consider yourself lucky if she bats an eyelash in your direction. hell, his friends were probably right. vivienne appeared like the type of person to drain the energy out of you if you let her but she was oddly alluring and such enchantment went beyond just her looks. she was obviously a passionate person and deeply perfervid about fashion so it was difficult to believe her nonchalant and unbothered exterior. perhaps mylan just found it difficult to accept the fact that some people are naturally unhampered by those around them. vivienne has always carried an independent and somewhat uncharitable front. she was a difficult person but one might expect that from someone like her. she was a supermodel for a reason and much like mylan, she grew up in the public eye.
indentgisèle was so eager to see her friend that she hardly noticed the rest of her family coming to join her or the departure of her cousin honorine as the other woman decided to return to her own table. mylan lingered behind as his parents approached the bandini family. they were already sat at the table. a huge smile crept onto gisèle's lips as soon as they neared the table. "oh my god! how long has it been since we've last seen each other? actually, don't answer that, it was probably a few weeks ago. oh, what darlings!" she stopped in front of vivienne. the actress smiled warmly at the younger woman. she greeted her with a kiss on both her cheeks. "you look beautiful, my dear but when do you not look stunning? you always wear the most gorgeous gowns, i swear! i pray you've been doing well? oh, celine, dario! you're not going to believe who i ran into earlier this evening..." she did not give vivienne a chance to respond to her question for she was already moving around the length of the table to greet the younger woman's parents. mylan stayed where he was, his hand moving into his pocket to fish for his lighter so he could light the cigarette honorine gifted him before he crossed his arms over his chest. despite his entertaining persona, mylan was not nearly as dressed as some of those attending the inauguration dinner. he wore a set of streamlined black dress pants with a garnet-colored button-up long-sleeved shirt, pressed and steamed to chase off any pesky wrinkles. the buttons on his sleeve were bright gold and matched the eighteen karat gold signet rings adorning his fingers. he had a small crystal tooth gem glued onto his right canine. mylan had skipped out on a lounge coat and chose to instead wear a shoulder cloak made from the speckled black and carob coat of an octabura. lightweight, soft and notably shiny, the cloak was draped comfortably around his shoulders and fastened at one shoulder by an encrusted gold and topaz fibula. the cloak was an exclusive piece designed and manufactured by nicole yearwood, a luxury fashion house owned and operated by honorine's younger and egocentric sister nicolette. the woman was notorious for using real animal products in her fashion line and she did not care how controversial or problematic some people found it to be. mylan did not see why it was such a big deal to begin with and that was probably his biggest problem when it came to nicolette's brand. mylan has earned some criticism himself for participating in her line's photoshoots where he would model some of the pieces for her next big launch. most of the shoots involved bringing in heavily sedated creatures for the collegial models to focus their attention on and mylan could not describe the amount of unease he felt when he had to lean against a dozing sharpclaw or drape himself across the back of an unconscious griffin. the cloak he wore was newly released and quite comfortable compared to some of the products nicolette's brand has created. mylan was careful not to flick cigarette ashes onto the cloak as he lit his cigarette, his step-father moving forward to greet vivienne and her family. gisèle and chandler's enthusiasm was not readily shared by their children. léna appeared tense - most likely trying to coach herself into acting as impressionable as possible - and margot, well, it was difficult to read her features. the twins were on complete different sides of the spectrum right about now. clementine looked mildly unimpressed. she's never cared much for the bandini daughters. she thought they were fussy, overindulged and impossible to interact with due to the almost predisposed judgment they carried. hugo was self-conscious when it came to females in general. he was at an awkward age where he was just beginning to reflect on his sexuality and feelings towards the opposite gender. luckily hugo was the kinder twin and lacked the spitfire nature of his sister. mylan nudged his younger brother before giving a slight nod towards gianna, the youngest of the bandini daughters. "why don't you try and talk to her tonight? she's only two years older than you. you got some game. i think. anyway, nothing wrong with liking older ladies."
indenthugo shook his head, the mop of curls atop his brow bouncing as he did so. "you're a weirdo. and no. no way! she'd probably think i'm weird. i'm nobody but a big blob of weirdness. besides, carmen and gianna would probably be more interested in talking to you instead. you're like, the poster kid of coolness."
indentmylan took a drag of his cigarette. the smoke nearly burned his throat. he shrugged. "well, i can't argue with you there but the least you can do is say hi. get movin'!" he gave his younger brother a light push in the girls' direction. hugo sent a glare his way before awkwardly approaching the group. mylan himself waited until his step-father moved on to greet celine and dario before he approached vivienne. as one might expect, she looked absolutely dazzling with her ebony corset slip dress and black mesh opera gloves. he expected nothing less than pure magnetism from her. she was always the center of attention and it did not matter if she intended it or not. he lowered his cigarette so the smoke did not get in her face before he greeted her with a kiss on her cheeks. her perfume was intense and almost penetrated his senses. "vivienne," he said coolly. "charmed. it's good to see you again. you look exquisite this evening." he was interrupted by his sister léna who did not hesitate to throw herself into their interaction. he stepped aside with a small huff as the young woman bustled her way next to him, a smile on her pretty face. "vivienne! it's so nice to see you again. you look absolutely amazing tonight..." one should only expect léna to act so enthused. she was a blossoming model who looked up to others like vivienne. mylan on the other hand was not sure how to feel. he was not sure what vivienne was feeling right now but she did not appear particularly enthused. he had no idea what she was feeling or what she felt towards him. he figured it was best to present a cool attitude so he did not make a fool of himself. she made it abundantly clear by their failed interaction last summer that she was not interested in him and mylan was still trying to figure out why. granted, it's not the first time that he's experienced a fruitless venture with someone like vivienne but he was puzzled on just what exactly went wrong. was it something he said to her? did he look at her the wrong way, do something that triggered some repugnance on her end? mylan was aware of the fact his public image and actions were an aversion for some and he's been shut down before by men and women who were not interested in entertaining someone as half-baked and thoughtless as he. vivienne had a very sculptured public persona, most likely crafted and tediously tended to by her agent and managing team and perhaps being involved with someone like him was out of the picture but he doubted that was the whole truth. truthfully, mylan should not be as bothered as he was by her subtle rejection but something about it felt disagreeable to him. his manager hendrik often reassured him that such tribulations were not worth his time for most of new hollywood's debutantes were bloodsuckers anyway. he was a rock star, a revolutionary paving the way for future musicians and breaking boundaries that most people could simply not handle so why even waste his energy brooding over what other people thought of him? it was better to direct that energy towards his music. mylan supposed he was right but it was difficult for him to see things in such a clear cut manner. the feelings of abandonment and dismissal always sent him into a spiral and half the time he could not tell if he truly yearned for the people who repudiated him or if he just could not stand the feeling of being spurned. he always contemplated and dwelled over what he could have done wrong. hell, maybe vivienne thought he was beneath her or that she was far too untouchable for someone like him. he knew that he was a contentious figure sometimes but how was his misconducts any worse than the scandals she has been involved in? he could not figure her out and he could not figure out exactly why she held little to no visible interest towards him. mylan was used to the attention and adoration. he's grown familiar with the love other people - total strangers, sometimes - held towards him so why did she not care at all? where exactly did he go wrong with her? it was most likely his reputation and public image that burned the bridge between them but mylan was convinced it was something else. the unattainableness that came with this situation deeply disturbed him for mylan has grown comfortable with getting what he wanted and with situations moving in his favor. he was no longer a young boy suffering underneath an unloving and scornful hand.
indent"i have a surprise for you all!" gisèle declared once the two families were finished greeting one another. "hugo, please help clementine sit down. petticoats are always so stubborn. oh, vivienne, you must sit down and get comfortable for this! you're going to love it." she ushered the younger woman into her seat in an almost motherly fashion but one almost expected that sort of behavior from her. she's been around the bandini girls since they were young. "ah, ah, don't sit down mylan. you're going to help me. hey, don't give me that look! you might be big and famous now but you're always going to be my little table helper." his mother walked around the length of the table to where margot and chandler took their seats. there was a wine bucket behind her husband's seat where select drinks could be specifically ordered before the inauguration dinner for guests to enjoy without having to drink whatever the house was offering. gisèle picked up one of the wine bottles buried in the ice. "domaine d’auvenay criots-bâtard-montrachet grand cru," she announced almost proudly. "this chardonnay is one of the best in the country. i bought it from markos vineyard a few weeks back. you know that winery near malibu, the one that hosted charmaine morgan and her family a few months back and was all over the papers? ten consecutive perfect scores from la revue du vin de drance. isn't that marvelous? it's a white wine and has this aroma of stonefruits, honeycomb and whipped cream. it's truly remarkable! i tasted it a few months back and just knew i had to buy a bottle for you all. mylan, dear, pass out these stemless glasses once i pour them. i don't want to use the champagne glasses." gisèle had the personality of an entertainer and it showed when she was around people who she cared for. she was easygoing, lively and overall the life of any party. she was comfortable with the bandini's. she was not trying to impress or sway them but rather show her adoration for them. she was close friends with celine and dario after all and she even helped tutor and coach their youngest daughter gianna in the art of acting. she urged mylan to pass out the wine glasses as she poured and mylan was careful to avoid spilling them as he set the glasses down for dario and celine. he did the same for his step-father and margot. léna, clementine, carmen and gianna were too young to have any and his mother was not keen on pouring them a glass when there were law enforcement figures swarming the banquet hall. she passed mylan a glass to give to vivienne who sat directly across from where his mother was pouring the drinks. he walked around the length of the table with the drink in hand, setting it directly in front of her. "my bad, there might be some cigarette ashes floating in there. it's probably not the worst thing you've ever tasted, though, huh? i'd offer you a hit but you probably don't want to catch something. we can't have you messing up your greatest asset." he offered her a cheeky if not somewhat unapologetic smile before he returned to his seat across the table for he knew if he stuck by her side any longer he'd draw everybody's attention towards them. mylan knew that he was playing a dangerous game and he should probably leave her alone based on how poorly their first interaction went but there was something oddly alluring about playing a game of cat and mouse with people. vivienne was just as messy as mylan, even if her management team did a good job of dictating how exactly she presented herself in terms of public socializing. mylan was a naturally unserious person and such jests were not uncommon from him to begin with. he knew well enough that new hollywood is full of mockery and sneers underneath the surface. nobody is ever genuine, no matter how much they smile or claim they adore you. everyone is full of hatred or judgement.
indentmylan did not keep his cigarette for long. his mother was quick to snatch it out of his hand as soon as he took his seat for she was still standing by the wine bucket. she gave him a short glare before she snuffed it out in the table's glass ash tray. she's never approved of him smoking. "how do you like the wine? i insist that you do not try and flatter me by lying. wine can be such a hit or miss, no? oh! you also must tell me what secrets you lot have been cooking up the past few months. are there any dimentico or bandini-bancroft exploits us peasants can get a glimpse into?"

[vaermina]

ＳＥＲＡＰＨＩＮＡ ＰＥＴＳＣＨＡＵＥＲxxx
I.xcis femalex II.xthe conclave governmentx III. director of the federal bureau of investigations


indentthe mind of a criminal cannot easily be dissected. there are many layers of twisted, rotting fabric that make up the corrupted human mind and no matter how hard you try and pull it apart, you will be met with nothing but ravenous flies feasting on moldering thoughts. each layer presents a new trait: negativism, external locus of control, higher impulsivity, lower anxiety, greater hostility, perceived wrongdoing, and intense feelings of injustice. there has always been a tempestuous sense of curiosity amongst the general public when it came to the thoughts of the criminal mind. the subject of immorality and what atrocities others are willing to commit has always been deliciously enticing for the average mind to hear. it was not so much admiration as it was a pure inquiry. humans have always been curious about the wicked and the unknown. it was the finest example of morbid curiosity. there is nothing natural about murder. humans are not meant to die in such an abnormal manner. the body's sole function is to keep itself alive until it wears itself out or some natural disaster takes effect and ravages its systems. murder is not an art but an act of defiance against human nature. it was a violation of virtue and the fragile reliance and respect the human race harbors towards ethics and religion. the prohibition against murder is one of the ten commandments given by god to moses; according to the qur'an, one of the greatest sins is to kill a human being who has committed no fault. it has been an illicit undertaking since the dawn of time but no taboo is greater than that of man's interest in the unspeakable. it does not matter the year for people will always be curious of the macabre. victims do not nearly receive the same amount of distinction that their killers do. there are no shows, documentaries or films dedicated to those who have lost their lives to vicious crimes. audiences are much more interested in morality plays. what makes a killer tick? why do they act the way they do? their childhood must be an attribute to their aggressive and apathetic ways. sera has spent a good majority of her life studying these patterns and behaviors. she found that the study of criminology and sociology principles has drastically changed since the great war. the collapse of society and communal norms has drastically altered the average way of life in the united states. the loss of wide-spread technology, resources, institutions and cultural ideas has quite literally warped society into a primordial state. it was impossible to utilize post-war research in areas that have grown significantly complex since the nuclear apocalypse. the criminals that haunt the wasteland nowadays are motivated in ways that post-war deviants could not even begin to imagine. one of the conclave's biggest threats are the bandit clans that stalk the waste and for good reason, too. the very essence of their existence is wrought with blood and guts. they have become beings of an almost antediluvian fashion for killing has become a way of life for them, a sport that solidifies their strength and the respect they receive from others. it's a dog-eat-dog world and shedding blood has become one of the few ways they are able to assert their dominance and ensure their own survival. why barter and persuade when you can shoot somebody and steal their belongings instead? it's not a new concept. marauders have been around for thousands of years but the hierarchy and values of which wasteland bandits follow is something out of a child's nightmare. it was nothing like social banditry for they appear to have little interest in engaging with class struggle. of course, there are still criminals out there who have no ties to outlaw gangs but their motives are one and the same. they participate in wrongdoing because the united states has been devoid of law and order for centuries. there are no consequences for solidifying your own survival with blood and fear.
indentsera has studied the world of criminal justice for years and it has become a familiar - if not somewhat disconcerting - setting for her. she knew what she was doing, what she was looking for and what was expected of her. the same could not be said when she was swimming in the heart of conclave's haut monde. she felt like she was walking through a sea of specters. every shy smile sent her way, every polite greeting and brisk handshake she received was beginning to grow tiresome. her feet were beginning to ache from her high heels and the jewelry she wore pinched her skin. her dress felt like it was going to swallow her whole and she was almost positive that her makeup was going to melt off her face. her grandmother insisted that she confront her newfound stature with a bright smile. you are blessed in ways that other women can only dream about. why can't you be grateful for once?
indentthe joint congressional committee on inaugural ceremonies did not disappoint this year. the banquet hall was embellished and beautified in a way that would make the most experienced event planner jealous. the walls and marble pillars were garnished with merlot bunting, garland, and tinsel with yellow honeycombs hanging from the ceiling and balloons bumping against each other. the tiles underfoot were covered in sparkling confetti. it was truly something of an opulent atmosphere that was only rivaled by the guests in attendance. everyone arrived in their most expensive and exquisite outfits: necklaces and rings of musgravite and red beryl, earrings of glimmering alexandrite and taaffeite, brooches and bolo ties embedded with singular benitoites in the middle. the women wore dresses of various cuts and colors and the men at their sides were donned in sleek suits that appeared almost intentionally well-paired with their partners' gowns. some of the women in attendance opted for simple dresses with agreeable colors; others were garbed in fetching and almost borderline scandalous cuts. sera had been styled earlier today by her future mother-in-law. the older woman insisted that she purchase sera's ensemble for her and sera had no intentions of rejecting a proposal offered by charmaine morgan. she had sera's dress custom-made after making a few inquires about color, fabric and cut. a suit was immediately out of the question. the end product was agreeable enough: a dusty strapless cerulean gown with transparent puffy sleeves, a floor-length skirt, and a lace tie corset. the extra fabric from the sleeves' cap line wrapped around the back of the dress to form a bow. it reminded sera of something a duchess would wear. it was simple, elegant and vintage-looking. it was made entirely of tulle fabric, a material that charmaine claims is more expensive than standard net fabric. it's used for bridal wear, formal gowns and luxury or couture fashion. it was a sheer and almost delicate material that gave the gown's skirt the illusion of layers. the dress was not the only purchase she received from charmaine. the older woman took it upon herself to select a set of jewelry she thought would go nicely with the gown. she bought sera a five-row glimmering fire opal choker necklace with a hanging tassel strand that pooled down into her cleavage. the opals were almost translucent in appearance with warm body colors of yellow, tangerine and crimson and bright flames of green dancing in the middle. their mineralogy allows the stones to diffract light, causing them to shimmer in various colors. according to her future mother-in-law, the opals can be traced all the way to central mexico and it cost nearly two thousand dollars for each carat that decorated the necklace's brass band. the opals matched the ones that had been weaved meticulously into the mesh material of her snood, a loose-fitting headgear that covered the fall of her long hair gathered at the back of her neck. it was surely a lavish and almost ridiculously luxurious set of jewelry but it did hardly compared to her engagement ring. once worn by charmaine's own mother, her ring was a sumptuous three-stone pear-cut diamond ring with superbly sized accent diamonds gracing the shank and a band composed of eighteen-karat white gold. the center stone was a five-carat diamond with a vs2 clarity grade. charmaine insisted that sera wear it tonight and who was she to refuse her wishes?
indent"have you seen what violet middleton is wearing tonight?"
indent"oh? i haven't, actually. what is it?"
indent"ack! it's honestly dreadful! some white halter dress that's far too short for an old hag like her. i mean, seriously, can't she keep it classy for once?"
indent"it's just a lousy attempt on her end to get some attention."
indentsera fiddled with the ring on her finger. it was difficult to swallow her rising contempt. every conversation so far has been something along the lines of gossip, scandals and mudslinging. evie keane and her companions did not seem interested in anything but discussing canards. it's been nothing but a stream of bavardage since the dinner began. they roosted on the second floor of the banquet hall like a committee of vultures. they had perfect access for scrutinizing every unfortunate soul who trudged up the winding marble staircase to congratulate the morgan family for their victory. president rehan morgan, his relatives and their strongest supporters claimed their spot in the sky parlor; it was blocked off from the rest of the attendees by a swinging glass door that remained guarded by armed secret service agents. the parlor itself was a quaint little space. it was littered with numerous polished oak tables and a large velvet booth that the morgan family claimed as theirs. the parlor had its own private mahogany saloon pub bar - currently operated by a distinguished and efficient bartender - and an interior balcony of elaborate wrought-iron spindles that overlooked the first floor. a small chandelier hung from the ceiling and washed the parlor's dark red walls in shades of flickering amber. the room was large enough to host over twenty people at a time. tonight, it was strictly dedicated to the morgan and de amas families. it was simply a matter of precaution. it was easier for security to monitor the president's safety when he was in a controlled environment. president morgan's bearings did not hamper his magnanimity, though. he insisted on meeting with those who so generously supported his re-election. he had little to no fear over what may happen to him. he trusted his citizens and contended on showing that through humble representation. genuine or not, his approach was successful for waves of people have been going in and out of the sky parlor all evening to give the president and his family their congratulations. most of them were some of the conclave's esteemed and august trailblazers: politicians, heroic military figures, applauded engineers and scientists, businessmen, rich and neoteric celebrities. they were all the perfect ingredients to throw in the bubbling cauldron which the witches surrounding sera giggled and gossiped about. the women were utterly impossible to get along with. they had no interest in discussing anything of enrichment. they enjoyed poking fun at others and speculating on the fashion choices and personal lives of those surrounding them. it was incredibly tiring. sera can be just as judgmental as the next person but she found the gabfest rather irksome. there are more pressing matters to talk about. why does it matter what other people are wearing, what their marriage might be like behind closed doors? why do you care so much about the people they mingle with and who they choose to publicly associate with? as far as sera was concerned, people can do whatever they like as long as they uphold nationalistic values. truthfully, sera could care less about winning their favor. her grandmother's friends have nothing to offer her. much like evie, they're housewives who have nothing better to do than speculate and blabber. her grandmother was one of many parvenus who sought to improve their families' social standing. the keanes do not have a strong social pedigree. sera's grandfather, tadgh keane, works as a pulmonologist in his own private practice - it's a rewarding profession and he enjoys what he does but it was nowhere near as advantageous as some other careers. he was not a well-known military figurehead or an ambitious businessman and industrialist. he had no prospects other than his offices in the capital city. he thought it was an agreeable and fulfilling way of life but his wife disagreed. sera's grandmother is notorious for her difficult ways. she was never satisfied with what she currently has and she was so ambitious - if not downright grandiose - that nothing one does could possibly make her happy. she was greedy for wealth, glory and recognition. she got jealous when others are recognized or awarded; she was not the type of person to celebrate in the achievements of others. she's been like that since sera was born. every relationship the older woman has was meticulously crafted - she used other people to advance her own position. sera did not trust a word that comes out of her mouth. she cared for nobody but herself. she had no love for her husband, her daughter, her grandchildren. evie keane views people as pawns in a game that nobody but herself is playing.
indent"i think miss middleton can wear whatever she likes. i don't think you're her target audience when it comes to who she wants to impress," sera interrupted their cackling. she eyed the group of older women before she smiled at them. there was no warmth in her features. "don't you think?"
indenther inquiry did nothing but incite a bout of jovial laughter from the other women. it was like they saw her comment as nothing but good-natured virtue, an effort on her end to give their unfortunate victim the benefit of the doubt. her grandmother sighed before throwing an apologetic look her friends' way. "you must forgive my granddaughter. she's so consumed with her work that she's become rather... unfamiliar with our culture here."
indent"oh, no apologies are needed," rita carroll replied with a gracious smile. she was one of her grandmother's comrades and wife to petroleum engineer louie carroll. "i can't even imagine how muddled your mind must be now that you work in such a strenuous environment. lord, i could never do it. it must be so exhausting!"
indent"not really. i don't mind it. i love what i do. actually, it's a very rew-"
indent"of course it is! can you imagine dealing with all those tainted-blood criminals?" ulva porter interrupted. she was one of evie keane's most outspoken and glamorous friends. "that's why i say leave that type of business to the men. i mean, really, who would want to be in that type of environment?"
indent"amen! don't get me wrong, dear, it's an honorable profession but there are always going to be terrible people out there. it's like trying to keep a house below sea level from flooding during a hurricane, you know? tainted-bloods just love wreaking havoc everywhere. i don't see how we're ever going to get them to act civilized! it's a lost cause." a small murmur of agreement ran through the group of women.
indent"and who, pray tell, would keep you safe from these outlaws if we deemed their persecution a fool's errand?" sera interjected sharply. the women's chortles died immediately. "wulfgang has enough arsenal and numbers to take over the entire northeast." it was best to remain silent and allow the women to talk themselves into a hole but their mindless banter and insensitive remarks were beginning to make her bristle. was she not worthy of respect despite hailing from a different circle than they? it was almost like they did not take her seriously, like they thought she was fighting for a lost cause and simply clawing for some type of recognition from her peers. no, she knew they did not take her seriously. evie keane and her friends are not women who are looking to create change. it was a classic example of internalized misogyny amongst the older generation of women in high conclave society. they minimized the value of their own gender and believed in gender bias in favor of men. they enacted their beliefs through assertions of incompetence, nasty banter and invalidation of women's achievements and motives as a whole. one could hardly blame them for they grew up in a time where societal beliefs demeaned the value and skills of women repeatedly. decades later, things are much different now. women are no longer expected to devote their lives to being traditional housewives. women have a right to education, health, freedom, and equal employment. there are plenty of women in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics who have made great leaps in advancing the topics of their studies. there are hundreds of brilliant female authors and artists who have done marvelous work in encapsulating the virtuosity of their craft. there are women in the military who fight every day to keep their way of life unharmed; there are women in the educational field who work tirelessly to educate and inspire the next generation. sera herself was amongst the many women looking to create change in the political and law enforcement field but there was still a lot of work to be done. there are plenty of men out there who do not think that women can act competently in a position of power. their skepticism and blatant misogyny is nothing new. sera was aware of the fact that women like her grandmother are products of their upbringing but their criticism scathes the most. she would never receive their praise for the work she has done throughout her career. her grandmother was far happier about sera's engagement than she was when sera were sworn into office. evie keane grew up in a time when women were encouraged to adhere to traditional gender values. she has always been more concerned about her family's social standing than anything else. evie believed that the best way to cement your legacy in this society is to be a step ahead of everybody else. she believed that the easiest way to ensure the success of your family's bloodline and wealth is to choose your spouse carefully. it's easier to ensure your kin's authority in the long run if you marry into a family that has had long-standing connections and affluence since the dawn of time. the older woman does not seem to understand sera's desire to pave her own legacy in life. why would she want to lose her identity and career over that? sera did not care whether or not her bequest was passed down to her descendants. they should find their own calling, not piggyback off the success of their family name. it's one of the many reasons why she and her grandmother clashed so often.
indent"wulfgang? from what i hear, a majority of their fiercest fighters are no longer around. most of them have died or ran off," shannon ingram mused. she was sitting at one of the tables, an ivory cigarette holder in hand. "like that firehawk fellow. some people say he's just some tainted-blood myth, an urban legend made to scare children into going to bed at night. you ever read that one article released by the patriot gazette, evie? how the man was allegedly set on fire and still lived to tell the tale? how does that even make any sense? it's all a bunch of rubbish; pure propaganda to try and make us afraid of those tainted-bloods! we have the biggest military presence in the country for god's sake!" her friends muttered in agreement. general skepticism of tainted-blood activities and how truly vile some of the wasteland's criminals are is common throughout conclave society, particularly those in evie keane's demographic. people are not willing to believe how minacious the dark side of humanity can be. they believe that the conclave's ever-growing military presence is strong enough to repel the threats that the government faces on the daily. call it their generation's everlasting surplus of pure arrogance or wild pomposity but sera herself has always been careful not to underestimate her enemies. unfortunately, the conclave has more wrongdoers on its most wanted list than inside of its prisons. despite what the public may think, it is not easy to capture wasteland criminals. they live primitive lifestyles in which technology is not widely available so it is nearly impossible to track their locations. most of them are constantly on the move or reside in territories that are relatively impenetrable such as the blood zone. it's difficult to gather intelligence on these men and women when the tainted-blood population is not too keen on talking about them, either. the firehawk is one of the country's most notorious criminals but there is little known information about him. a few years back, he was the bandit king's most trusted lieutenant and the backbone of wulfgang's enterprises. nobody knew his birth name or where he had come from; all they knew was his callous nature, his heartless and almost soulless acts of violence. they only have a couple of composite sketches on what he may have looked like for only a few have seen him and lived to tell about it. he was no longer a part of wulfgang - his alleged failures to secure his gang's victory against the military earned him a brutal awakening from his overlord - and the bureau has not been able to track his location since. bandits are not the only dubious characters out there, either. there are a handful of figures who are not explicitly wanted by the bureau and the conclave military but are considered 'low-risk' and subjective to crime should they see an opportunity. sera has dedicated a large portion of her time studying these elusive and often intriguing characters. the crones of candlewick bog - three alleged witches who live deep in the swamps of the dixon wasteland - were her latest disquisition. the women are something of an urban legend to the wasteland population who live near their settlement. according to the bureau's intelligence workforce, the crones of candlewick bog live in a run-down village once known as big creek. it was an old, isolated settlement with a population of one hundred prior to the great war and it was known for its run-down shacks and ancient cabins. most of the village was in ruins now but the crones have allegedly claimed the settlement's church as their own. there were only a few people who shared the village with them, a handful of older women who harbored a deep suspicion of outsiders and a nasty fear of impiety. they were a cloistered community of women living under vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. nobody knew their names or where they came from but they revered the crones of candlewick bog. they worshiped the witches like one would worship a supreme being. according to some of the locals, the crones are considered the 'mistresses of the woods'. they are the heart and soul of the swamp; the locals claim that the crones keep them safe from the horrors of the wasteland in their own peculiar, twisted ways. nobody outside the village has seen the witches before. in fact, their very existence is up for debate but the women who serve in their clergy say otherwise. they are not allowed inside the church's sanctuary so they pray and leave the crones their offerings inside the building's narthex. from what sera has seen through documented evidence, the church's antechamber was covered in webs of threaded yarn, animal skulls, dead insects, and candles. there was a tapestry above the narthex's door that depicted three young women dancing around a pool of blood. their hair was as white as the sun, their skin pale like curdled milk. the tapestry was supposedly a depiction of the crones themselves but the young woman hardly looked like putrid beldams. some of the locals who do not worship the witches like their neighbors do claim that the crones are malevolent and ungodly beings, ones that feast on the flesh of humans for strength and bathe in the blood of young men and women to retain their beauty. there have been several accusations of kidnapping made towards the crones of candlewick bog and their followers. parents in nearby settlements lament that their children were stolen from their beds in the dead of night and spouses brood over the baffling disappearances of their partners who walked into the bog one afternoon and never returned. these sudden departures are often shrugged off as classic cases of children and inquisitive souls who ended up being swallowed alive by the unforgiving wasteland but the whole situation felt awfully sinister. there have been no proven deaths tied to the crones of candlewick bog - especially those of conclave blood, despite patrols having gone missing in the area before - and they have no solid proof that the witches even exist so it was impossible to conduct a full-fledged investigation. truthfully, the crones of candlewick bog and their disturbing but otherwise legally harmless way of life are not a one-time phenomenon either.
indent"ah, yes, yes, it's all a bunch of rubbish. oh!" sera's grandmother brushed the topic of banditry and military exploits aside. it was clear that she was no longer interested in the conversation. her mind was already brewing on another subject at hand, one that would undoubtedly pull the attention back toward her. shannon deflated slightly at her friend's indifference before she glanced down at her heels in mild embarrassment. evie smiled at the group. "have you ladies seen seraphina's engagement ring yet? oh, it's truly marvelous! absolutely beautiful! it's an exquisite di-"
indent"grandmother, may i speak with you for a moment? in private, please?"
indent"just a minute. margaret, your husband likes to buy loose diamonds and diamond rings, correct? what do you think his opinion of this ring would b-"
indent"evie!" sera interrupted the older woman again, her tone now coming off as sharp. her grandmother threw her a bewildered look before glancing sheepishly at her friends. "would you excuse us for just a moment?" she stepped away from the group before following sera over to the parlor's interior balcony. the throng of opulently-dressed people below them flickered in a sea of dazzling prism. evie scoffed. "what is wrong with you tonight? there's no need to sulk and have an attitude. it's tasteless behavior! the girls have high expectations, you know as well as everyone else coming into this sky parlor tonight! will you please not ruin this for us?"
indentsera turned to look at her. she leaned back against the iron railing. "what are you playing at?"
indent"what?"
indent"you have not bothered to look in my direction for years until just recently. the past month or two alone you've asked me to attend all your group's brunches and dinner parties and insist that i show everyone my ring. i can't utter a single word about my career without some churlish homemaker insisting that i should leave that 'business' to the men. i mean, jesus christ. will nobody recognize my autonomy as my own? you're supposed to be on my side!"
indent"on your side? everything i'm doing is for you!" her grandmother insisted. she immediately jumped on the defense. "don't get me wrong, the ladies will never understand your passions but you shouldn't expect them to. they're simple-minded. you need to play into it. keep them entertained, yes? but don't you see what this means for us, seraphina? this whole situation? we don't have to scramble for respect anymore! we can right our wrongs, pay off our debts and free ourselves of these chains. don't you get it? the morgans are the most respectable and wealthiest family in the conclave! we won't have to sow our seeds anymore for worthless pennies. we can fix everything - you can fix everything! and your mother, well, she loves that house your father bought for her, you know? it's fallen into quite disarray - i know you haven't visited in years so you wouldn't know about that - but i do know that you're aware of the bank trying to foreclose the property. your fiancé and his family could snap their fingers and all of that would go away. wouldn't you like to help your mother, dear? you know how she is nowadays. she's not well." she took sera's hands in her own. evie keane was once a magnificent beauty. she was a toothsome and appealing woman in her youth. she was a blonde bombshell with curly flaxen hair, thin eyebrows, full lips and supple skin. she had the cold eyes of a seductress and the facial structure of a provoking siren at sea. her signature lipstick was a radiant red, a color that reminded younger sera of strawberries. her husband liked to joke that evie was a bona fide starlet in another life for there has never been another woman as beautiful as she - save their own daughter and granddaughters, of course. it was a mystery how someone like tadgh keane struck the older woman as appealing. he had been a scrawny fellow during his youth and preferred the company of his books than that of other people. he was not a spectacular-looking person but it never seemed to bother him. a thin yet decently tall man, he bore a lump of shaggy brown hair atop his head with pale and wistful eyes, a firm jaw and a protruding nose. his features were homely but kind and as he aged his hair grew ever so wiry and thin. his features have faded with the passage of time. his eyebrows were sparse and gray, his skin folded and drab. he made no effort to cherish his youth. he embraced the concept of aging for there are many people who are not given the pleasure of living long, healthy lives anymore. his wife on the other hand was fighting a helpless battle against time. sera's grandmother did everything in her power to look presentable and spry. she filled in her eyebrows with a brown pencil every single morning and applied a strict regiment of wrinkle cream and eye serum to her face before she went to bed. she preferred to wear lipstick to hide her diminishing lips and she spent three hundred dollars every eight weeks to have her eyelashes done. her hair was not as bright as it used to be but she paid a pretty penny to keep it healthy, blonde and styled. one could only ponder how such a selfish and enterprising woman as evie keane found solace in the company of her husband, a man who is far too humble and unassertive for the big league. tadgh has no interest climbing the social ladder and supping off the good will of others. her grandparents are strikingly different people but evie seemed to love him, in her own peculiar way. she married him of her own free-will and cared for him greatly but one could not deny she was embarrassed by him sometimes. she loved to spin tales for her friends that her husband was an ambitious man and currently in the throes of expanding his practice. she hated appearing insignificant in the company of her lady friends. she was their muse, their leader, the apple of their eye so why would she want to jeopardize that?
indentsera pulled away before she fiddled with the ring on her finger coolly. "who's fault is that? i think she should have thought about that outcome before she donated money that she did not have to religious movements and denominations."
indent"the only reason she began to slip into debt in the first place was to send you and your siblings to school! why are you so ungr-"
indent"would you stop?" sera snapped. "you took part in her ruination but now you're trying to pin the blame on me? i'm not the one who killed her husband and left her a widow. i'm not the one who tried to pressure her into remarrying, either. she abandoned zahara, absalom and i first, remember?"
indentevie scoffed. "abandoned? you three were sent to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country! not to mention the universities you later enrolled in. who do you think paid for all of that? rather than being so petulant, you should send some grace her way! where did you learn to be so ungrateful?" as expected, she ignored most of sera's accusations. her grandmother knew how to play the victim and more often than not, she dragged sera's mother into it as well. she knew how to maneuver her way out of trouble, how to shift the blame onto somebody else. evie cannot handle criticism because she cannot bear the opprobrium. she was unable to see her own faults. unable or just unwilling? she did not defend sera when sera needed her the most. why was her mother even being brought up right now? was sera supposed to just fix all of the older woman's problems for her? according to some family friends, fiadh petschauer has become obsessed with her own religious fanaticism. she turned to god after her husband died to seek guidance and clarity but she has grown increasingly disillusioned with life instead. her faith introduced her to a chasm of self-doubt, crisis and uncertainty. most people are able to navigate their way out of these pits with careful guidance and self-reflection but it was almost like sera's mother was stuck in a whirlpool that she could not escape from. she lived in an old apartment on the outskirts of the mcmillian reservoir in washington after being forced to move out of the petschauer family home. sera has never been inside but according to her grandfather, it was a place sera's father would have never allowed his wife to step foot in. she could no longer afford to live inside the home her husband bought her so many years ago. she has long since given up her tumultuous research at the national institute for she claimed she needed to live her true life via god's will. she had been unhappy the last few years as an immunodermatoligst and her misfortunes were just what she needed to realize that. truthfully, fiadh has grown into some sort of self-acquainted messiah. she spends what little money she has left donating to the church and devotes much of her time towards its activities and services. she had no interest in science anymore. oh, how blasphemous she must think i have grown to be. it is no secret that the catholic church - one of the most dominating christian churches in pure-blood society - is frequently at odds with the united states government. the current institution was born from the united states conference of catholic bishops after it was presumed that the vatican and the roman catholic church were all but destroyed after the great war. they adapted the traditions of the pre-war catholic church and reinstated its hierarchy such as the pope, the college of cardinals and the archbishops. the current pope, florentino venezia, is a peculiar man. he did not condemn the bizarre and abnormal like his predecessors once did and instead encouraged universal acceptance and kindness. he was well-known for his excursions out in the wasteland where he would hold 'papal audiences' in tainted-blood towns and cities alike. he blesses the masses, feeds the poor, visits the sick and ailing, advocates for the public and donates a considerable amount of the church's money to humanitarian efforts. he was beloved of the wasteland population. men wept upon his passing and women cheered and yearned for his blessings. pope venezia did not require heavy security whenever he held an audience out in the wasteland. the man was convinced that no harm would befall him or his colleagues if they made themselves an ally of the people. surprisingly enough, nobody has yet to put a bullet between his eyes but perhaps he does deserve a rock against his noggin instead. his charitable views are honorable enough but have put a great deal of strain between the government and the church, especially once he announced that every man and woman - no matter their crimes - are protected within the walls of any designated holy place upon the laws of sanctuary. there is a fine line between religious valor and treason, one that pope venezia has no qualms taking advantage of. it's a difficult situation for the government. the church has a lot of sway amongst not only political leaders but the public, as well. people are much more prone to believing the word of god than what they think are corrupted figureheads. it irritated sera. a large majority of the wasteland population may be fond of the pope and his bishops but that does not extend to every soul out in the waste. bandits do not care for messiahs and prophets. a slave is a slave and they would sooner kill the pope and his colleagues and paint their churches red than stop and listen to their pacifistic speeches. pope venezia is playing a dangerous game by letting his guard down and relying on humanity's good-will to shield him from acts of violence. that mindset kills and kills again, just as it did with sera's own father. the bandit king would surely love to drink his favorite spiced wine from the pope's gutted skull.
indentsera was grateful for what her mother did for her in terms of her schooling but must she grovel at her feet when the older woman would call sera and beg her for money in the past? sera waited tables during her early years at college so she could have some spending money to her name. she worked at an old but popular bistro in beverly hills several miles from her university. she had no car during that time so she either biked or took public transport to get there. its location was convenient for wealthy boulevard shoppers so sera managed to get by off of the tips she earned from her tables. a good portion of her paychecks always went to her mother, though. the woman had been falling ever deeper into the loins of her debts and often needed money for rent, groceries, bills and gas. fiadh eventually joined the church when sera entered her junior year and the money that sera sent her quickly shifted from being utilized to pay bills and groceries to filling the church's pockets. sera had no interest in fueling her mother's fanaticism; if she wanted to neglect her family and poison her own life by walking such a listless path, sera wanted no part in it. her mother can spend her days in a shoddy apartment with hardly any clothes in her closet and not a dime to her name all she likes. truthfully, sera could care less. her grandparents dealt with her mother's religious and downright penniless afflictions now. sera did not want to feel obligated towards her anymore. everything she has done, everything she has endured and built for herself... that was her. not her mother, not her father, not her grandparents. she owed them nothing. they did not deserve her obligations or her gratefulness. evie seemed to think that sera should be beholden towards her for what she has done in terms of sera's engagement when she knew well enough the details of sera's personal life and sexuality. she refused to let her granddaughter be her own person and instead took advantage of her to advance her own welfare and social prospects. why would sera give a damn about her? she cared little for evie and her friends because they have nothing to offer her. she did not aspire to be like them; their lives and accomplishments were nothing short of amusing.
indent"i have other matters i must tend to," she told her grandmother coldly. "do not try and wait for me tonight."
indent"what? sera, wa-"
indentsera did not wait to hear what her grandmother had to say. she shouldered past the older woman with an air of inimical stiffness about her. she had other needs to attend to beyond listening to a bunch of old toads croak and cackle all night long.
indenther absence was hardly noted amongst the morgan family. a proud yet undeniably powerful and authoritative clan, the morgans are one of the conclave's most distinguished household names. their blood, sweat and tears were infused in the very stones they walked upon tonight. wilder morgan boasts his legacy as the founder of the conclave from the depths of his magnificent grave. it took years, decades even, for the conclave to reach its current status. the federal government was officially established a little over fifty years ago but everyone knows that its reconstruction had been going on for decades before that. wilder morgan passed away a couple of years after his presidency but he remains an esteemed treasure of the people. the morgan family's influence and prestige endure unchallenged. if anything, they are at the peak of their power. president rehan morgan oversees the executive branch of the federal government while his sister, charmaine morgan, controls the enclave dominion as its presiding director. their father would surely be proud of them if he were still walking the earth. it was said that wilder morgan was an austere but gracious leader during his time and no ill feat daunted him. he led the fight that brought the country to heel. it was an honorable task given how lawless the united states has grown to be but the country's social and political landscape used to be much more perilous than it is now. historians dubbed the century after the great war 'the century of carnage' for there is no better term to describe what life had been like for those who survived the nuclear war. anarchy, murder and nihilism ran wild. society collapsed as soon as the world went dark; laws eroded into dust and everything civilization stood upon caved in. the government, the military, law enforcement, medical services... there was nothing left standing by the time the dust settled and those who survived the initial impact of the nuclear bombs were either ravaged by their neighbors or committed the ravaging themselves. it did not take long for survivors to adopt a 'dog-eat-dog' mentality. within the past three hundred years, organizations and institutions have reigned and perished. before wulfgang and messalina's legion, there were warlords who claimed leadership over vast swathes of land and oversaw the political and social squabbles of their territory themselves. most of them are long gone now, eradicated or brought to heel once the conclave began its conquest. there have even been instances of petty kings sprouting throughout the land, too, demanding tribute from those residing in their realm and declaring themselves the country's sole head of state. their regnants were short-lived for men like wilder morgan were swift to put them down. the conclave trounced the insolent and violent like wildfire when the vaults opened and those within declared their intent to restore law and order. it took decades of stern military campaigns and bone-breaking physical labor for the conclave to not only rebuild their primary cities but suppress the tide of barbarity that the wasteland's inhabitants shoved their way. wilder morgan spent so much of his life paving the way for his people he was but an old and tired man when he became the first president of the conclave. since then, the morgans have come to dominate every political and governmental sector they can get their hands on. they are a wealthy and prominent family, which is why sera found it difficult to accept her recent circumstances. the boldness she felt just moments ago when she departed from her grandmother's company was quick to turn into uncertainty once she fell amongst the ranks of the morgan family and their companions. sera found herself standing next to her fiancé. a good number of people stood near the far wall of the sky parlor, surrounding the morgan and de amas families like a pack of hungry wolves. many of them were familial, professional or social acquaintances; others were distant kinsfolk seeking to sup from the fat cat's pot. many of them were embroiled in their own conversations. men roared with laughter and tasteless jokes while women preened one another in polite compliments and empty parleys. it was not an uncommon sight, this crowd of plutocratic ninnies dressed in the finest mulberry silk, baby cashmere and pima cotton that money can buy. socialites often strive to claim a spot near the morgan family at social events. the president himself was unabashed by the attention as he took his spot in front of the crowd, his wife at his side and his family surrounding him. the floor was open for those who wish to greet the man and give him their congratulations. in fact, dozens of men and women have already done so. they offered the president a handshake and a few gallant words - others were bold enough to initiate entire conversations - and they peppered the first lady with flowery tributes and well wishes. rehan morgan and his lady wife imogene were a lesson of elegance and probity. they never complained and received each and every one of their guests with a wide smile and a clasp of the hands. their children, two handsome sons and a prepossessing daughter, stood next to them.
indentsera found herself standing next to her fiancé. she clasped her hands in front of her stomach, her attention flickering towards who surrounded her. charmaine morgan stood off to the left of her older brother, her children lined up diligently next to her. sera thought herself pitiful next to them but she was dressed opulently and just the way charmaine wanted her to. the older woman was not composed of respectful pleasantries and a touch of coolness like her brother was. she was demanding, cunning, pawky and downright temperamental. unlike sera's grandmother, she cared little for social obligations and even less for pale flattery. sera's fiancé seemed to have inherited his mother's morose ways. even now, sera did not dare speak with him for she doubted he noticed her presence to begin with. bennie morgan was, by all means, a peculiar man. he was the eldest of charmaine morgan's children and a stunning copy of his bullheaded mother, his hair yellow like buttermilk and his eyes a deep shade of aegean. he wore his facial hair nice and trimmed. bennie was one of the few magnates in attendance with visible tattoos. his neck was covered with them: a roaring lion, fire-breathing dragons, a fierce falcon, a cracked skull with a serpent curled around the jawbone. according to his sister vibia, his tattoos were a relic of his college days. he enjoyed the life of a reckless partygoer during his youth but you would not be able to tell that nowadays. much like sera and his siblings, his outfit was chosen by his mother. he wore a sleek navy suit with ivory pocket flaps, a staunch collar and gold surgeon's cuffs; he bore a pair of cowhide gloves to boot. he always insisted upon wearing gloves, for they hid the metal prosthetic that took the shape of his right hand. he lost the flesh form years ago during a fire. sera threw him a quick glance. it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. he was a sullen man, quiet in demeanor and hardly ever the one to initiate conversation. he could be charming and well-spoken amongst his peers and colleagues but he rarely awarded those outside his circle the pleasure of a friendly chat. bennie was guarded, reticent and oftentimes hotheaded when his temper was provoked. he was not as mercurial as his mother but he inherited her vulpine ways. sera has come to realize that he preferred to observe more than he preferred to talk, and he was a surprisingly good judge of character. still, whatever chatter brewed between them was curt and short-lived. it was like trying to will two stone gargoyles to hold a conversation with one another. they come from vastly different walks of life. their families, their circumstances, their woes, their losses; they could not relate to one another nor could they find the nerve to confide in each other's grief. bennie had two children of his own - twins by the names of rudy and corrie - but they had not attended the inauguration dinner. he treated his children much like how he treated everybody else: strangers. sera did not know why he acted so dispassionate. they've hardly spoken of anything deep and true since their engagement was announced. sera could not love him the way he probably deserved to be loved but she could at-least act as a confidant. it was the best she could do in their unfortunate situation but she was unsure if she could get through his icy barriers to begin with. she would like to know what he thought of the situation but he spoke little to begin with. he would not reveal his thoughts to her, at-least not right now. her grandmother always said that marriages and engagements are supposed to be a merry time, the happiest time in a woman's life but sera has never felt more miserable. she felt disconnected from the morgan family. she's dined with them, stood with them at social events, held many a conversation with them at their family estate but she knew that until she and bennie were wed, she was an outsider to them. their discussions felt empty to her. it was almost like she were a child again, barred from family secrets and not allowed to participate. she could not tell if the morgan family distrusted her or if they were simply a distant brood. they did not treat her unkindly, no and they were respectable enough but something felt off. this whole situation felt off, actually but nobody wanted to heed her complaints. she had no choice in the matter. people marry for love and devotion all the time but there are a good deal of families in upper conclave society who arrange marriages between their kin all the time to strengthen their own absolve. sera wept bitterly for many nights upon being told of her predicament but none of her tears or anger shifted her grandmother's stance on the matter. she may have risen to a position of great power and influence in the world of politics and law enforcement but amongst the upper class, she was still a woman. her grandmother made sure of that. how could she ever hope to garner the respect and favor of her colleagues if they thought she were some mummer's puppet? sera was not bound by feudalism to stay engaged but would she risk the public shame and backlash from both families for backing out? would charmaine morgan unleash the wrath she's heard so many people talking about if sera spat on her goodwill and trust? would that one decision cost her her career and destroy everything she's worked hard for? she did not know but she refused to appear inadequate. it was best to appear confident and sure-footed, even if she retained her chilly ways. and despite it all - the agitation, the grief, the uncertainty, the restlessness - sera forced herself to smile each time she was greeted and dragged into conversation with the president's passing guests.

[vaell]

xxxxxＥＭＩＬＩＥ ＨＯＦＭＡＮＮ.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxthe chair of the council of economic advisors.
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indentjanuary is a notoriously trying month.
indenthaving spent weeks growing accustomed to putting her own well-being on the backburner - too caught up in temporal trend analysis or sifting through the dozens of published articles piling up in her office - sleep has become increasingly elusive. rolling her neck to the side, emilie squeezed her eyes shut before making a point of widening them in an effort to stay present. though she was listening to the two men in her company, she was not hearing. whether it be the sleep deprivation or caffeine dependance, she's been experiencing incessant migraines lately. even now the bright lights shining down from chandeliers scattered throughout the banquet hall would be enough to inspire a vicious bout of vision strain if she decided to stare for too long.
indentthe preparation for the annual report of the council of economic advisors has always equated to both a physical and mental marathon, a process emilie could admit was taxing but certainly rewarding in the long run. no different from any other year, she projected that the finalized report would conclude around six hundred pages in length. preceded by the economic report of the president, the document thus far consisted of eight complete chapters, though she was certainly determined to achieve the ninth before it's scheduled release in feburary. the annual report is filled with extensive data appendices, a plethora of statistical figures and an innumerable list of varied references, serving as an important vehicle for presenting economic policies and an overview of the nation's economic progress. as one might expect from such an all-encompassing document, a comprehensive range of subjects are addressed in each appropriate chapter of the report. thus far she's outlined policy developments, labor markets, outputs, financial markets and the nation's current macroeconomic situation, just to name a few. as grueling as mass data collection, interpretation and drafting might sound, projects at this scale have always given emilie the opportunity to retreat into her work without anyone batting an eye out of concern. she could shut herself away from the outside world and completely devote herself to what she was best at, and to some extent that brought her happiness - or so she believed. in fact, having spent the last few weeks establishing a workflow free of interruption, the inauguration dinner itself marked the first true disturbance emilie has willingly entertained. it's only half deliberate that her other commitments managed to fill in the gaps of time between when she was and wasn't making additions to the annual report. after all, having little to no downtime made certain introspection or pointless musings impossible to dwell on, and right now that was exactly what she needed. as evidenced by her tendency to withdraw into herself, facing interpersonal conflict with grace has never been emilie's strong suit. she's haughty, self-assured and disdainfully proud as is and her wickedly obstinate attitude only swells in the face of conflict. the way she handles strife isn't fair nor is it gentle. she leaves people out in the cold by virtue of her own selfishness. regardless, when she isn't lecturing for her undergraduate macroeconomic theory course at the washington institute of technology she's either holding office hours for her students or browsing the ryerson library on campus to spark some new ideation. plenty of her own research as a faculty member has been disseminated at ryerson, an athenaeum regarded as one of the capital's best academic libraries in the finance world on account of the university's experimentation with semantic data modeling, linked data and digital product development. she regarded ryerson as an information ecosystem rich with work from this century's most renowned scholars and frankly, it's been an integral part of her life since she first started studying at the washington institute of technology as an undergraduate herself. in the midst of her bachelor in mathematical economics she would spend late evenings studying at ryerson only to find herself distracted by the phenomenal array of academic literature lining the walls of mahogany shelves. given the way emilie carries herself it might be hard to believe she possesses an inquisitive mind at all. the truth is, exploration has always been as integral to her being as anything else. a distinct sense of curiosity provided her the drive only that which the most successful researchers seem to possess. nowadays she would return to the library to do what she has always done, only now it was her name dominating the shelves labelled macroeconomy. all consuming as her work may be, emilie hasn't had to bear the weight of tremendous expectation all on her own. she could thank her colleagues for sharing that burden with her, most particularly the likes of dr. james glaesar and dr. roy anderson, both of which were accompanying her tonight. while the onslaught of guests were starting to pour in, the three of them have been hanging on the outskirts of the banquet hall strategically preying on newly filled glasses of champagne or hors d'oeuvres packed on the trays of passing servers.
indentthis year and the last emilie has been granted the pleasure of guest-lecturing for james' year-long introductory to economics, her sections of the course primarily addressing income distribution and the concept of equilibrium. not only has she published with james in a research context but the two of them also cowrote a frequently used introductory economics textbook together a few years back. their teaching curricula is almost entirely based off the text, which made lecturing for the course incredibly streamlined since its initial implementation. the core principles presiding over any introductory course have always applied to their outlook on lecturing; presenting the information, reinforcing it and establishing key theory as basic foundations for those seeking entry into future upper year courses. students should understand the necessary frameworks of economy like individual consumption and production decisions guided by price and cost. by the end of the year the rudimentary concepts of supply, demand, cost, production, and responding to price changes should be as straightforward as tying your own shoe laces. that was the hope, anyway. given her long professional history with james she's found it an even greater pleasure to be able to regard him as a key member of the council of economic advisors, a man whose accomplishment, keen aptitude and expertise in the field of quantitative finance and economy made him a powerful asset and colleague. likewise, having the confidence of dr. roy anderson was no small matter either. she's worked with roy since her earliest years at ERGO from being an entry-level member of the national investment management firm fresh out of her ph.d. studies all the way to her transition into assuming control over the organization as director. since stepping down from her leadership position at ERGO, emilie has since continued to preside over the firm's advisory board similar to roy himself. while she does so humbly consider herself indispensable to the CEA, she could acknowledge the many great minds backing her and her academic ventures. not only were james and roy pivotal members of the organization but so were the staff economists that comprised the remainder of the council, mainly ph.d. students on leave from their respective programs. together, they've helped her conduct advanced statistical analysis reports, distribute publishments throughout administration and to congress, and they continue to assist her in producing the president's daily economic briefings. and while emilie often enjoyed intruding on the usual back and forth repartee between james and roy, tonight was different. over the last hour their academic discourse has grown to become the least of her interests, the mere sound of their ongoing exchange striking her as rather unremarkable. to be frank, her mind was preoccupied. emilie's face was set in an unreadable expression, her attention appearing to wander between their conversation and the invitees mingling in the thick of the banquet hall. every now and then she'd give her colleagues a distracted mhm to assure them she was still passively engaged in their discussion. sticking her hands into the pockets of her pants, her attention flickered beyond the shoulders of the two men standing in front of her. what momentarily caught her eye was that spectacular glass enclosure in the middle of the hall and the beast forced to pace inside of it. for a moment she couldn't help but study the display. there was something curious to be said about witnessing a creature as mesmerizing as an azurys being reduced to a spectacle for entertainment, trapped within the confines of an enclosure for everyone to gawk at. it seemed unlikely to her that its scrawny frame would ever be able to support its ability to take flight again, all jutting bones and exposed skin from plucked feathers. it was hard for her to dissect the scene any further than that though. emilie had to avert her eyes from the increasingly unsettling display. she didn't know if she understood the creatures plight in some inexplicable manner or if she just wanted to find a way to articulate her own feelings. all evening a sense of looming apprehension has been festering inside of her, largely accounting for her quick looks scanning the glamorous crowd of conclave elites and her inability to stay focused on just one thing. she found herself stuck struggling between a desire to see the likes of a particularly familiar face and not wanting to at all. everything's been moving by in a blur lately and even worse, it was hard for emilie to ascertain the last time she made a point of being kind to the very same person she wasn't sure if she was avoiding or seeking out. what she perceived to be a whole torrent of unfairness this month and the last has only been exacerbated by her stress-induced state of mind, and it's left her more irritable and cold shouldered than usual. her behavior has managed to drive off a lot of people and in the process others she didn't intend to push away. emilie wasn't exactly eager to confront any of which has been nagging her recently though. with an ego as staggering as her own, it was so much easier for her to feign indifference and act as though she has committed no wrong. she's gone through life being held unaccountable for so long now that it almost seemed like second nature.
indent"...point being, it's all up for debate. forgo being monetarist, new keynesian, new classical, constraining yourself to a particular box or another. good research can have people like dr. brandt effusing to the point where it almost resonates with you. as much as he might be considered a thorn in the side - for lack of a better word - his recent findings aren't entirely without logical soundness. a viable counter piece to his last keynote presentation may be a difficult task to undertake, even for the most adamant of us." tuning back in to their conversation, emilie couldn't help but grimace. the man who seemed to predominate her colleagues discussion tonight was that of dr. adam brandt, one of several academic authors emilie has scarcely seen eye-to-eye with. as a matter of fact, it's been that way since they were first introduced to each other during their years of doctoral fellowship at the university of the potomac. a true new classical economist with a penchant for challenging the foundations of new keynesian macroeconomic theory, brandt has made it his duty to critique economic policymaking in a way that subsequently cemented himself as a known critic in her area of research and thereby her work. the disagreement written on emilie's face seemed to go unnoticed, for james was too busy waving down another server holding a tray of small fluted champagne glasses. despite an early greying of what was once might have been dark hair, dr. james glaesar is a man only a few years her senior. the mark of a clean-shaved face and neatly combed back hair made his facial structure appear more pronounced, like the subtle point of his chin or the way his thin lips always seemed to be set in a self-assured slant. he stood perhaps only a few inches taller than emilie, and much like her james held himself in a manner that oozed self-importance. beneath the lapels of a dark grey wool blazer, his lean frame was dressed in a powder blue button-up secured by a fitted black vest. at his neck hung a steel grey tie secured to his chest by a meticulously placed silver pin. she watched the man take a drink in each of his hands before turning to hand her a glass. emilie skeptically accepted his offer. this time, james couldn't help but take note of the contemplation beginning to cloud her features. the light from crystal chandeliers above them sharpened the hollows of her already prominent cheekbones, naturally occurring shadows carving her features more angular than they were. the man stared at emilie as she peered into the contents of her drink. her prolonged silence seemed to be enough to leave james inclined to believe she disagreed with him. her colleague didn't hesitate to act on her seemingly growing uncertainty. "what is it..? you don't look fully convinced. look; i'm not saying he championed the elgar companion to classical economics. you and i both know that would be absurd. what i mean to say is that, purely from an objective stance, dr. brandt does deserves some merit. he put on a hell of a speech at the national bureau of economic research last week." his tone bordered defensive. emilie raised her eyes, unconvinced. a sigh escaped her lips. "you don't have to remind me. i was there for the whole thirty-minutes of his ludicrous spiel suggesting the implementation of new keynesian models for quarter-to-quarter quantitative policy advice would be little more than a catastrophe." james waved a hand in dismissal, though she persisted. "no, really. forget finding his presentation engaging. what truly impressed me was how one person could behave in such an erratic, contradictory manner. brandt can try all he wants to upsell himself as something other than mediocre but let's face it, he's acknowledged the convergence of method, reduced-form shocks, principles of policy advice, model design, you name it. there's dozens of publications under his name to prove that. yet, how did he phrase it now, 'state-of-the-art versions of new keynesian models aren't consistent or structural with microeconomic evidence'?" the trace hints of mockery in her voice would be enough to tell anyone emilie saw a rival in dr. brandt. of course, she didn't solely disagree with the man based on any personal, non-academically rooted grounds. it would be bizarre if she discredited him and his research only because of his history of attempts to criticize her work or her person, paltry as they may be. what she did have a problem with was the stances he took in academic literature and thus in the economic world. emilie has been continuously pushing for new keynesian reform through dynamic stochastic general equilibrium models as a feasible method to postulate economic phenomena including economic growth, business cycles, as well as policy effects and market shocks. among a number of other researchers, dr. brandt has been persistently pushing back, concerned that the set of shocks introduced into these models made them dubiously structural and furthermore inconsistent with other microeconomic evidence. modern macroeconomists - be it new classical or new keynesian - may appear alike at a distance, though its obvious at a close inspection these schools of economic thinking disagree with one another considerably.
indentjames let out a huff, not particularly surprised by her rather narrow-minded perspective. "well, i can see he would need to publish 'a rehabilitation of classical economics' if he ever wanted to convince you of a damn thing." a flash of amusement crossed emilie's face. she raised her glass to her lips. brandt was going to have to do a hell of a lot more than that if he wanted to earn her respect. "what about you, roy? i'd be curious to hear if you shared the same sentiment as emilie." her pale eyes flickered toward the older man. roy has remained relatively quiet since she first interjected in their conversation, though his eyebrows were knit together in a way that suggested he was deep in thought. with black-rimmed glasses propped up by the strong bridge of his nose and a receding head of silver hair to match, dr. roy anderson in appearance and attitude embodied the signs of a seasoned economist whose been navigating the field far longer than either her or james. he's always proclaimed himself to be something of a mentor to emilie, prideful in having been able to meet her during the earliest moments of her developing career. to some extent, that notion held true. he was a fellow new keynesian thinker whose helped shape the way she viewed the world today although truthfully, some of his perceptions of economy and finance were growing stale. his tendency to fall back on familiarity was partially why she didn't expect his response to surprise her. she had a feeling he wouldn't break faith with her so easily. "well," roy began, clearing his throat almost hesitantly. "i do admit i see truth in both of your patterns of thought...granted, neoclassicals like brandt always like to keep a macro model simple. they want their parameters small, motivated by micro facts. it's no secret everyone's protective of their own preferred traditions of model building and assessment - we're all guilty of that. but when i first heard brandt present his findings, i was thinking names like lucas stokey or even nina roberts, academics who pioneered models that discouraged free parameters not explicitly supported by micro data. i think we should be able to appreciate brandt's predecessors for laying down the groundwork for modern neoclassicals, at the very least. nevertheless, i'd be unwise to forget who has been typifying the competing tradition." roy gestured to emilie who in turn offered james a rather wry smile. the man had to resist the urge to scoff at her overt display of pride. even despite gaining roy's endorsement, she had a feeling james wasn't going to relinquish his dogged determination so soon. the look on his face alone told her he wasn't ready to move on. "hm. well-spoken roy, i'll grant you that. still, you didn't take a clear stance yourself, waffling between this and that. but, fine. alright. let's proceed with what you've said so far. emilie, you're a proponent of new keynesian theory. as such, you have a natural tendency to favor this so-called competing tradition. would you care to revisit the shortcomings in dr. brandt's analysis that don't agree with you? specifically in his critique on your recent model literature, considering it is the state-of-the-art new keynesian model in question." though james was being awfully persistent, emilie didn't have a problem obliging him. she lifted her shoulders in a rather nonchalant shrug. "fine. how about we start from a place of mutual understanding? i'm sure you and i can both agree that DSGE models are promising in respect to two key principles, both of which will immediately counter what you've heard from brandt. one, they boast enough micro-foundations such that the shocks and parameters are in-fact structural. by definition, that would be enough to solidify DSGE models as entirely invariant to monetary policy shocks." james didn't protest. "second, these models can generate the type of wedges we see in data from even the most primitive, interpretable shocks. we know that neoclassical tradition directly conflicts that of new keynesian, and contrary to what roy just described, free parameters are commonly abound in models like my own. so forget stokey or roberts, then. i'll reiterate. brandt has come to the conclusion new keynesian tradition leads to models that simply cannot be relied on for policy analysis. he himself has agreed that both of the features i mentioned could potentially be useful. yet, he argues that DSGE models fail to fit the two parameters i pointed out to you. why is that? because they 'lack consistency and true structure'?" she scoffed, her face scrunching up in disagreement. as far as emilie is concerned, brandt was far out of his realm of capability and well in over his head at that. she would never admit it - let alone acknowledge it - but deep down, it bothered her endlessly that he's been able to assert himself as an increasingly authoritative voice in the opposition of DSGE modeling. furthermore, it was only in her nature to feel appalled that other people were taking him seriously when she clearly didn't share that perspective. though james refrained from making any comments just yet, roy took the opportunity to capitalize off her brief pause. "may i also point out that he critiqued what he referred to as 'dubiously structural shocks' in the models, if i can recall even going so far as to plainly refer to the wage-markups as being highly questionable? i do believe that is where i disagree. in this regard, his interpretation makes little sense." smug to hear him concur with her statement though not surprised in the slightest, emilie raised her glass in agreement. roy's glass clinked against her own before they both threw back some of their champagne. james watched their demonstration with a critical eye. though she could feel the tides of argument turning in her favor with roy's ongoing support, the subtle taste of citrus dancing on her tongue felt more like a distant delectation. she lowered her glass from her mouth. "yes, well. as we all know, brandt claims to perceive volatility in my models and yet i've outlined shocks arising from fluctuations in the elasticity of substitution across different types of labor. in the end, we need macro-models with micro-foundations. that's no matter for debate. it's the only way any DSGE model can satisfy the lucas critique, to be viable for use in policy-conditional forecasts. i mean god, come on. don't stick your neck out for someone like brandt, james. you're not making yourself look any better than the average naysayer arguing that mainstream macroeconomics needs a paradigm shift. i've heard this argument a billion times before and quite frankly, it's getting old." emilie was already tired of this conversation and it was evident in the sound of her voice. the way she spoke rang half a note off judgmental, like she was convinced she would be doing james a favor by advising him to refrain from continuing down this slippery slope. the man seemed to consider her words for a moment. he was particularly careful in what he chose to say next. "well, maybe there's a reason for all that conversation. there's a great number of macroeconomists who would argue that the field can only progress if it gets rid of the DSGE albatross around it's neck. and what of the lucas critique, emilie? how is it rational to insist that macro-models must be lucas-robust? i find that to be something of a stretch. for all practical purposes i think the lucas critique can be ignored in this argument. it's a known fallacy that all macro-models must pass the critique." emilie couldn't help but look at him almost incredulously. did she hear him right? the woman briefly averted her eyes to the contents of her glass, groaning in exasperation. "ugh...you're starting to sound like a real dilettante right now." she muttered in disappointment, then scrutinizing him critically. "if anyone has an interesting, coherent story to tell, then they can do it with a DSGE model. if they can't, then hell, whatever they want to publish is probably incoherent junk. it's just─ this is all common sense, and you're failing to miss the point of my argument entirely. DSGE models are micro-founded. they have deep parameters invariant to changes in economic policy. if i have to spell it out for you, that means they're not subject to the lucas critique because they inadvertently satisfy its parameters anyway." a hint of frustration surfaced in her voice, like she couldn't comprehend what he was failing to understand. james wasn't so easily ruffled by emilie's opinionated mannerisms though. even though it might not be difficult for her to shake other people, he's known her long enough that he wouldn't be forced back down so easily. "i hate to be the one to break it you, but people can also tell a whole load of uninteresting, incoherent stories within a DSGE model. i just don't appreciate how you make as though people who don't support DSGE models aren't serious about policy analysis. i'm not insisting that DSGE modeling is a story of a death foretold, but by the way you're making accusations left right and center, it sure as hell seems like you're a little bit worried yourself. are you, emilie?" her eyebrows drew together, a fleeting look of defensiveness crossing her face before disappearing altogether. "mainstream macroeconomics aren't failing, so no. no, i'm not worried. christ, what do you want me to say? that DSGE models should be - oh, i don't know - less imperialistic, more accepting to share the scene with other types of general equilibrium models?"
indent"maybe, but though those words are certainly more brandt's than they are mine. actually, i believe he so rather elegantly worded it as 'getting rid of the hegemonic DSGE program an─" suddenly, emilie began speaking over top of him, "─'and recognizing that DSGE practitioners like audretsch or hofmann, with their bluff and bluster act as judge, jury, and executioner in all macroeconomic matters, are blocks on the road to progress. DSGE programs are crowding out alternative macro methodologies that actually do work.'" flatly reciting the latter portion of what roy intended to quote from brandt, she suppressed a roll of her eyes. james looked away, mumbling something into his glass. it didn't matter whether or not she actually forced him off the defense. humans can be insecure, self-conscious and quick to abandon their own opinions under pressure, especially out of fear for being humiliated or ridiculed. even the most accomplished of individuals are susceptible to that sort of self-doubt. as someone her colleagues respected, emilie recognized her sway and frequently exercised her power to make other people feel smaller than her on a regular basis. maybe being on the receiving end of that sort of treatment throughout the majority of her life drove her to assume a domineering role all so she could never be perceived as fragile or weak again.
indenthonestly though, it's a lot more likely she's just a terribly cruel person.
indentmuch unlike the vast majority of guests attending the banquet tonight, garbed in their most ostentatious jewels or tastefully revealing dresses, emilie herself wore an ensemble similar to that of the men that shared her presence. like her colleagues, a small broach engraved with the conclaves heraldry was pinned to the right lapel of her black blazer to signify her designation as a cabinet-level official. emilie's dirty blonde locks remained loose at her shoulders, untouched from any stylists people might employ for themselves. she might not appear to have prepared as meticulously as some of the invitees hailing from the likes of new hollywood, but a few weeks in advance of the inauguration dinner she did commission fittings for the tailored suit she now donned. her ebony blazer was buttoned once at her chest, revealing a white collar poking out at her neck from a button-up long sleeve neatly tucked beneath a thin-banded belt. secured at her waist were a pair of black plicated tailored pants, running down to sit loosely atop a pair of dark leather oxford shoes. her tendency to dress in a more traditionally masculine manner was nothing new. she's never been particularly comfortable in making a show of femininity or otherwise, much more secure with a gender representation substantially less feminine in nature. if you were to look through her closet you would note it's heavily populated with different suits, button-up shirts, sweaters or vests. as a matter of fact, the vast majority of her collection of suits have been tailored to fit her exact measurements. she even boasts an extensive shoe collection including wingtips, oxfords or suede derbies. granted, while she did look put together tonight someone with a keen eye might be able to discern the exhaustion weighing her down from enduring yet another sleepless night. aside from her recurringly drifting focus, emilie's posture was reminiscent of slouching. even she could not hide the appearance of shoulders slightly rounded let alone the fatigue bringing out the circles under her eyes. while james was still busied mulling over their previous discussion in silence, roy appeared to take the opportunity to pry into emilie's own affairs. she hardly noticed he'd stepped closer until she heard him speak. the woman looked at him suspiciously from the corner of her eye. "brandt aside, i hear you're taking on a new ph.d. candidate this term? lucas anderson, is it?" he spoke in a tone just shy of a whisper, like her decision to guide the young man was a secret yet to get out. emilie had to let out a huff of amusement over the old man's attempt at discretion. granted, a part of her was impressed he found out so soon. word certainly travels fast in their social sphere. either way it was obvious to her that roy was eager to know more, hence his inquiry, so she decided to offer him something tangible. "that's right. we've been talking complex agent-based macroeconomics. something along the lines of a manifesto for a new paradigm. it's exciting stuff, certainly different from the last dissertation i advised." it's common practice that doctoral students choose their advisor based on their area of interest or their desire to work closely with a particular graduate faculty. the ph.d. candidates emilie worked with in the past have typically gone on to pursue greater things in the field of macroeconomics, often examining subcategories in her own niche while making names for themselves as up and coming researchers. roy pushed his glasses up with a thumb, intrigued. "it's been awhile then. remind me, who did you last sit the examination committee for?" she had to pause for a minute. the last doctoral student she took on must have been back in 2427 with katrina hellerstein. since assuming her position as CEA chair, emilie has become a particularly challenging faculty member to land a dissertation under. she's had to turn away students and point them in the direction of other professors with similar scopes of research to her own, much to their disappointment. she was far too preoccupied these days and it hasn't felt like the right time for her to commit herself to any student research projects. of course, that all seemed to change with the likes of lucas anderson. "quite. i last took on katrina hellerstein," she informed him matter-of-factly, breaking eye contact to scrutinize the people passing them by. "you know, i was reluctant to advise her thesis at first. she preached postmodernism influence and the development of feminist theory, and you and i both know research in that field is no small undertaking." roy mumbled something incoherent in agreement. "it's not everybody's cup of tea, but it can be fascinating. you might recall i briefly dipped my toe into the the development of structural adjustment policies in relation to gender myself. i think a part of being on that journey with her drew me toward something outside of my comfort zone, academically speaking." the older man looked mildly entertained. "yes, i recall your brief venture into national account statistics for women's work and inclusion in the labor force. that was certainly an interesting choice at the time. unexpected from you, even." emilie smiled, albeit thinly. "yes," she acknowledged, her tone coming off flat. the woman absently picked a piece of lint from her sleeve before looking at him again. a moment passed. emilie took a step closer to roy so he could hear what she had to say, almost as though she intended to disclose something private to him. "let me tell you a secret, roy," emilie tilted the rim of her glass toward the mass of people beginning to collect in the banquet hall before looking him in the eye again. his eyes curiously followed the gesture she made. "every now and then, you have to surprise people. keep them on their toes. hm? that way these young economic modernists can't insist i'm conventional and boring." that sure cracked a laugh out of the old man. her mouth twitched upward in amusement. of course it did. a chuckle of her own escaped her lips as she brought her glass to her mouth. emilie has been navigating her way through the economic landscape for years now. she knew how to work a conversation in her favor depending on the person and she knew roy was hardly progressive.
indentthe sound of his laughter was slow to die out. still particularly humored, hints of amusement lingered in his tone as he circled back to their prior discussion. "i'd wager you must see something in anderson then. and if he should outshine your previous doctoral student.." the older man trailed off. "oh, it's very well possible," she admitted. the woman paused for a moment before decisively backtracking in thought. "but no, no. don't misunderstand me either. hellerstein was a pleasure. she's doing good for herself nowadays, too. i've seen her cited every now and then in the conclave economic review. i might be biased toward anderson's research agenda, considering his interest lies in DSGE models and minimizing the reductionist approaches we often find at the heart of much macroeconomy research, but like i said, we have to be open-minded, don't we?" roy couldn't help but chuckle at her latter remark. emilie was only so stringent because she knew taking on a ph.d. student was a rather serious, multi-year commitment. many professors don't entertain that sort of responsibility unless they've come to know the student enough to gain an appreciation for their abilities and personality. she only finalized her decision to take on anderson because she supervised one of his research projects last semester. constantly finding herself busied by her own work, becoming his doctoral advisor was something of a gamble for both parties involved. it seemed he was more than willing to take on that risk though. emilie is well-known for her selectivity, but that was hardly enough to deter students who admired her or her research. her professional email is constantly littered with various proposition letters from students eager to work with her. considering her impact in the field of macroeconomy over the last few years, the admiration she's garnered from undergraduate and graduate students alike comes as no surprise. anyone wanting to make a name for themselves in the field would be honored to join the small but formidable list of mentees she's accumulated over the last few years. being advised by a macroeconomic giant like emilie meant introductions to other luminaries in her field or getting a glimpse into her own personal insights of the most promising sub-fields of research these days. having once been a ph.d. student herself, she knew about other doctoral students who suffered beneath absentee advisors. either so busy with their own work and duties or overloaded from taking on a number of advisees, some professors provide very little guidance and leave their doctoral students to fend for themselves. sometimes it even comes down to a professor having an administrative requirement to supervise a set number of ph.d. students per year. advisors like that don't interfere much, and though it may grant the student a lot of freedom to pursue their own research goals, it doesn't help them stay on track nor does it give the student any sort of reassurance before critical junctures in their ph.d. program. overall, it's not an ideal situation for either parties involved. ideally, emilie wanted to avoid garnering that sort of a reputation amongst her students or even her colleagues. back in her own ph.d. studies she herself was fortunate enough not to have to deal with the likes of a dismissive advisor. much like how anderson managed to impress her, emilie scored her own mentorship under dr. simon weitzman, a man who at the time lectured at the university of the potomac before later gaining tenure at the washington institute of technology. he was a labor economics professor and sat on the conclave department of labor as chief economist. weitzman was among the names of the greats, pioneers in the macroeconomic field who were constantly making breakthroughs and taking daring strides in the world of economic research. he saw a talent in emilie and made it his undertaking to nurture her gift. it was an honor to be associated with someone as genius as weitzman, and to be regarded as his prime successor even more so. she still considered him to be the first and only person she has ever looked up to in her life. emilie caught sight of james approaching her and roy, notably empty-handed. she'd hardly noticed the man's brief disappearance, likely disposing his glass on the tray of a passing server before sauntering back over to her and roy, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "before either of you ask, yes my ego will recover. give it a few business days," he announced jokingly, though she could sense the tension in his voice. emilie only quirked a brow. james glanced toward the center of the banquet hall, now far more populated than it had been when they first arrived on the scene. she followed his gaze, flickering above them to the over-arching ceiling and presumptively those who were occupying the second story. the three of them were supposed to be seated at a table on that level with a few other government associates but evidently, they've been rather focused on hashing out their own discourse instead. "well? what do you two say, is it about time we head on up?" of course, neither her nor roy had any complaints, or at-least none that they voiced for that matter. the banquet hall was certainly growing crowded so as much as she wasn't necessarily eager to finally migrate to the second floor for reasons too confusing to name, now was probably the best time for them to make their appearances and get the pleasantries over with.
indentwith both james and roy in tow, emilie proceeded up one of the grand staircases situated between a pair of thick pillars decorating the banquet hall. one of her hands retreated to the inside of the pockets of her pants, the other clutching her half-empty champagne glass. with the two men trailing several steps behind her she could only make out the faint sound of their conversation amidst the hum of classical music. she'd been distracted enough earlier that her and roy's argument failed to impede on her mood, but as emilie stepped up the maroon-colored stair runner adorning the marble staircase, she was finding it harder not to feel a bit vexed. at what in particular though, she wasn't sure. could it be the mere cacophony of voices filling the banquet hall, or the way the bright lights overhead felt jarring to her eyes? the banquet hall was certainly overwhelming compared to how she's been conducting her life lately, caught up in a prosaic routine going from lecture hall to office day-by-day. the blonde-haired woman was quick to encounter the landing of the staircase, though once she did her pace slowed. for a moment she hovered beside the railing to peer out and survey the expanse of the main level, dotted with tables and servers and people taking their seats. a few guests passed her by as they descended the flight of stairs from the second floor, none of which she paid any interest to until a flash of auburn-colored hair passed by her periphery. emilie did a double-take on instinct. she could almost feel her breath catch in her throat. the woman turned her head. her eyes landed on the backside of a stranger dressed in an emerald tiered wrap dress, hanging on the arm of the man beside her as they carefully stepped down the staircase together. met with disappointment, emilie was quick to avert her eyes. she let out a tense exhale, though whether or not she felt relieved or let down, it was hard to say. either way her own embarrassment was quick to get her moving. without lingering a moment longer, emilie crossed the platform and began her trek up the final set of stairs, albeit with little enthusiasm. even despite her best efforts in doing so she knew she couldn't evade the likes of seraphina petschauer forever. while impressively open to dialogue in a professional setting emilie is surprisingly - or perhaps not so surprisingly - a very self-preserving person in the face of personal conflict. any attempts on her end to try and put herself in another person's position to understand their feelings are dubious at best, which might just explain why she's been trying to keep sera at an appreciable distance lately. there was no one real reason as to why she was upset with the other woman. she certainly hasn't done anything to warrant a cold-shoulder from emilie and yet that seemed to be about where their relationship was right now. it posed no easy task for someone as self-possessed as emilie to face what she deemed to be irrational feelings of loathing resentment or grudgeful jealousy and yet when it came to sera she felt strangely disturbed for someone who couldn't even claim to be have ever been anything to the other woman. it's almost remarkable how fast something can manage to wedge itself under emilie's skin the moment she realizes she wields no semblance of control over a situation. sera's recent engagement should be something inconsequential to her but instead, merely hearing about the matter for the first time brought on a petulant bout of indignation that has only continued to fester with time. she hasn't gone out of her way to see the other woman since...well, who knows. at the end of the day though her battle was more against herself than it ever was sera. never mind the woman being engaged to another. it felt as though it would never matter how far she got in life or how many accomplishments she had to show for it, for she would always find herself sentenced to confinement the same way that azurys was forced to pace its own enclosure. emilie has spent so much of her life focused on cultivating an image of herself, convincing herself and other people that she was no longer a girl knocked about by other people, that it simply became her. and if maintaining the respect of her colleagues meant that she had to be the one impounding herself to the boundaries of society then she supposed that had to be a sacrifice she made. the odds have never been in their favor nor would they ever be and perhaps that was the most frustrating notion of them all. "...ah, but you know me roy, and you know i can't stand the idea that models must have rational expectations..." she stepped up to the second floor, fleetingly catching wind of what james and roy were talking about a few steps behind her. "...there's even some room for argument that such models have one incurable shortcoming. that is, they are not rational at all. why?" when she overheard james, she couldn't help but glance over her shoulder this time. she was almost surprised he was back at it again so soon after she snuffed him out in their previous debate. from what she could gather, he was accusing DSGE agents of being endowed with a lacking predictive power for rational expectations. it would probably be for the better if she didn't butt in, but it was difficult for her to resist the urge to intrude. emilie turned to face them, looking down at the pair from where she stood at the top of the staircase. "because of known unknowns." she curtly interrupted, well above the sound of their own voices. the two men looked up at her, their conversation abruptly quieting. "are those the words you were looking for?" emilie watched them with disinterested eyes as they both picked up their pace to join her on the second floor. now that james could level his gaze with her own it was easier for him to look her in the eye. she noticed the way his jaw seemed to tighten, like he wanted to say something but decided against it. a moment seemed to pass before he replied at all. "perhaps." the man said dryly. as though anticipating an additional remark, she scrutinized his features for a moment. when one didn't come, she simply stepped past him altogether.
indentreceiving congratulations and well wishes at the heart of the sky parlor, it only made perfect sense that president rehan morgan and his family demanded the center of attention on the second floor. every now and then the glass door leading to the room he occupied would swing open to allow guests to pass by the armed agents diligently posted outside the entrance. as emilie navigated her way through the throng of elites, she couldn't help but notice how often crowds are drawn to the morgan family, like parasites eager to leech off their immense affluence. much unlike the vast majority of attendees keen to sink their claws into this evening's blossoming social scene, emilie was hardly taken by the allure of such ill use of her time. the economist never felt enticed to conduct herself the same way the vast majority of the nation's beau monde often do. in fact, the schemes of socialites or the spread of gossip like wildfire during events like these were always lost upon emilie altogether. granted, she was what many people of that crowd would consider idiosyncratic in nature if not altogether unconventional. who dared to wear what designer tonight, what scandal might be befalling the new hollywood scene - these were all things that never managed to cross someone like emilie's mind. some might find that notion bizarre, though the people she associated with were always those in her immediate circle of work or academics whom she knew through research exploits. that's not to say she hasn't carefully established herself among her peers. her authority and credentials amongst those in the scholarly sphere of conclave society have granted her the respect and esteem of both her colleagues and rivals alike. though she refused to be compared to the likes of the airheaded elites that often flock to salient sources of power, when it came down to it emilie herself was engaged in the same power struggle everyone else seemed to be partaking in. whether you hold ranks in the government, finance, the military, at the end of the day everyone is trying to make a name for themselves. that was the irony of the human struggle. passing through the secured entry way to the parlor, emilie forced her attention to the two men trailing behind her, momentarily looking over her shoulder at james. she stammered out of the blue, taking him off guard. "i just─ what you were saying, don't you think we should be more careful when we talk about rational expectations, especially in the context of the 'true economic model'? by implication, model agents don't make systematic errors when predicting future occurrences...ah," she just as suddenly trailed off, a smile replacing her otherwise troubled expression the moment she caught president rehan morgan's eye. brushing by two suited fellows to get by, it only took a stride or two and she was in front of the older man and his family, sticking out her hand to offer him a handshake. she didn't even give james the chance to form a response. "i think my congratulations are in order." she grasped the older man's hand firmly, extending her smile in the direction of the first lady as she did so. emilie seemed rather particular in directing her attention toward the president and his wife, so much so that the magnificence of the parlor hardly seemed to dawn on her nor did the presence of it's other occupants. "i must say, it's been an honor these last few years. i certainly look forward to what the future will bring. no doubt the upcoming term will be prosperous for both you and your family." as usual, emilie conducted herself in a way notably succinct and straight to the point. the woman has never been one for adulation in conversation nor was she fond of making idle nonsensical chatter. surely cordiality without any hidden intent must be like a breath of fresh air around here though. after making a point of shaking the man's hand, she proceeded to step aside to give roy and james a chance to dispense their own felicitations to the president and his wife imogene. emilie watched the men for a brief moment. though modest in size, the parlor inhabiting the morgan family and his supporters managed to boast a handful of tables crafted in oak. the room was supplemented with its own bartender and a view down to the floor below them by virtue of the interior balcony. the space seemed to possess a different atmosphere than the rest of the banquet hall altogether.
indentwith her colleagues attempting to strike up conversation with the president, emilie had no choice but to turn to the remainder of the president's family and the likes of charmaine morgan and her children. she was heedful to offer them a light smile until at last her gaze flickered down the line to sera. it was the first and only time she's acknowledged the other woman's presence in the room at all. when she laid eyes on her a glint of feigned recognition dawned on her features, as if she hasn't been deliberately avoiding the other woman altogether. "sera?" she inquired, sounding almost quizzical in her surprise. emilie found herself taking a step or two away from her preoccupied colleagues, beginning to draw toward sera and her fiancé. "i almost didn't recognize you." she admitted airily. now standing in front of the pair, she couldn't resist giving the woman a fleeting - if not entirely discrete - once over. bedecked in cerulean fabric that cinched at her waist before extending into a full skirt, sera could effortlessly steal the spotlight from everyone else in the room without even doing a thing. if she didn't know any better she'd say the woman was torturing her, because that's what this was: torture. it felt a crime that benedict morgan was the only one who could truly share her presence and even then he did not seem to take the liberty of appreciating his fortune. the man could hardly comprehend just how lucky he was to be able to call himself her fiancé, merely standing at her side with an air of indifference. emilie could only fantasize about holding her, being the one to run her hand around the curve of the other woman's waist instead of someone like him. but even in that regard she even doubted her own worthiness. though sera's gown was certainly eye-catching, it would be impossible for anyone to miss the expensive pieces of jewelry decorating her slender throat. the sumptuous stones glimmered with traces of amber and ruby and gleamed with viridescence in the light of the sky parlor. a single strand suspended from her choker dipped down with the bodice of her dress. she noted that a matching set of opals seemed to be carefully woven into the lightweight material drawn over the length of her hair, pulled back from her shoulders. growing increasingly aware of her own state, emilie couldn't help but smooth down her blazer. in an effort not to appear as haggard and tired and beat as she felt she almost subconsciously forced herself to straighten before the two of them. emilie made a casual motion toward sera's outfit with the half empty champagne glass in her hand. "pretty." she spoke evenly, her eyes flickering up to meet the woman's own. though she may be charmed by the prepossessing sight of the woman before her, emilie has always been just as much taken by sera's intellect. she was captivating in both mind and spirit, evocative, haunting, soul-stirring, indelible, heavenly - and well, just always out of her reach. these were not feelings emilie associated with just anyone though. demonstrations of devotion or fondness aren't the sort of things people would expect from emilie. no one would flag her the embodiment of a winsome, heartfelt lover with the way that she so vehemently detested anything that required her to be openly vulnerable, and they'd be right in doing so. even now emilie managed to find the audacity to strut up to sera and her fiancé like she hasn't been letting her unwarranted resentment fester between them. she acted as though she had the right to size up the situation between sera and benedict, like it was any of her business at all. either way her own impudence hardly seemed to dawn on her. she offered sera a handshake out of courtesy, though her grip was notably delicate when she slid her hand into the other woman's. her eyes only broke away from sera's to note the appearance of a rather demanding ring encircling one of her fingers. the piece of jewelry was hard to miss, if not for it's presence in her hand then for it's grandeur. she eyed the diamond gracing the band. "ah," after noticing the ring, she let her hand drop away from sera's own rather suddenly. "i guess one should properly congratulate the both of you as well, delayed as it might be. that ring is, well..." she trailed off with a chuckle, though she suspected she need not finish her sentence at all. she could guess sera has been drowned in compliments over the jewels since arriving at the banquet hall. the woman proceeded to cement a firm handshake with benedict. "lucky fellow. she certainly is an extraordinary woman." she smiled at the man, her eyes flickering to sera before releasing his hand.
indentjames and roy seemed to appear at just the right time. the two men rejoined emilie though they were quick to notice those she held company with. roy's features brightened at the sight of the president's family. he was certainly not close with either sera or her fiancé in the slightest - or at-least not that emilie went aware of - though the older man did have a tendency to assert himself a self-proclaimed acquaintance to everyone he's managed to encounter. "seraphina, oh- and benedict! delighted to see you lot again. you know, i was just telling james here, it's almost baffling how little we see each other congregated in such a..." emilie couldn't help but take the opportunity to step aside, betting on the older man's garrulous nature to keep benedict preoccupied. now that she alone could face sera, she cleared her throat, a hand tugging at the collar of her shirt. she was making a gamble trying to conversate with the other woman any further than she already has. whether or not her presence was welcomed by sera at all was still up for debate though clearly the notion wasn't enough to keep emilie at bay. she wouldn't normally pursue someone's attention so adamantly but something seemed to be coming over her. she felt the need to prove something to herself - if not to sera - and perhaps that had a lot to do with the company of benedict himself. she hasn't done much to rectify her interest in maintaining any sort of relationship with the other woman lately but right now she felt different. was it possible she truly did feel bothered seeing them together? running a hand through her tousled hair, her eyes hesitated to meet sera's own. "'i've been meaning to ask you something. uh, tell me─ how is your schedule looking these days?" she studied her features almost curiously, raising her champagne to her lips to empty the remaining contents of her glass. she'd hardly even pondered the odds that sera might be inclined to reject any sort of invitation coming from her, but now that she thought about it, that was a very real possibility. the notion seemed to strike her out of the blue. emilie felt the sudden urge to backtrack, if only to protect her own ego from being punctured by rejection. "you know what, you're probably busy. between work and all that never-ending engagement buzz, who wouldn't be?" she waved a hand almost dismissively. "it's nothing particularly exciting anyway. a grad student of mine has been getting ready to present at a symposium being hosted these next few days at the washington institute, so i read up on some of the other attendees, keynote presenters and what have you, and one topic did stick out to me in particular. i believe it was 'an analysis of intellectual capital, competitive intelligence and historical espionage' accompanied by 'criminal prosecutions of trade secret theft.' uhm, francesco giavazzi and peter spurr, if the names ring a bell." she watched sera carefully, if not somewhat intently. "anyway, it made me think of you. i figured that sort of discussion might be right up your alley, and honestly i don't know who better i could ask to join me. but like i said, it's really not a big deal if you can't make it. being only two days from now and all i can see why my short notice might not be so appreciated."

[vaell]

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa new hollywood supermodel and fashion influencer.
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indentgisèle auclair has never failed to brighten a room a day in her life. having grown up around the woman, her ebullient presence has always meant comfort and familiarity. upon the woman's arrival vivienne couldn't help but cast a curious glance over her shoulder. as one might expect her mother was already beginning to rise from her seat as though she could hardly wait to greet the other woman. swathed in exquisite alabastrine fabric and bedecked in her finest diamonds, she could almost understand why her mother was having such a hard time looking away from the film star. "oh, don't even mention it─ a few weeks or not, i've missed that pretty face! look at you!" vivienne made a point of fondly rolling her eyes over her mother's overt display of excitement before returning gisèle's greeting with an opposing kiss. being up close to the woman it was easy to appreciate her distinct sense of glam. warm accents of lightly applied makeup sought only to enhance the natural beauty the older woman possessed, an artistic preference that has always contrasted her mother's own. while gisèle seldom seems to make appearances straying outside her preferred shades of nudes, celine's makeup artist has always been keen on portraying her beauty in a strikingly darker fashion. paired with pronounced amounts of facial contour that vivienne always claimed to be obscene, deep plum or intense burgundy brown lipsticks have always been a staple for her mother. even tonight richly pigmented chestnut and mulberry blended on her lids gave her a dramatically refined matte look, while thin strokes of ebony lined the inner corners of her eyes and extended outward into a short winged eyeliner. before vivienne could even get in a word in about the woman's enchanting look though, gisèle was already continuing down the length of the table. considering it was her mother and father gisèle was most inclined to greet, she wasn't surprised the woman was in front of her one moment and gone the next, keen on catching up with her parents. vivienne smiled. as one of her mother's dearest friends, she came to be familiar with the accomplished actress new hollywood and the rest of the nation knew and adored. when vivienne was younger she preferred spending sunny afternoons at their estate lounging pool-side beneath the shade with the two women rather than chasing her younger sister carmen around in the water. a younger vivienne was notorious for weaseling her way into their midst whenever gisèle stopped by. sometimes her mother would have to whisk her and carmen away to the tennis court for their lessons so the two girls would stay out of their hair for a little bit. it was as funny as it was embarrassing to reflect on those sort of memories. vivienne could recall adamantly trying to act more mature around the two women so she could get away with being a part of their little get-togethers on occasion. considering gisèle and celine have always been renowned as the it girl's of their generation, frequently followed by the likes of the paparazzi and attracting other prying eyes, it's hardly surprising she looked up to them with such admiration as a girl. vivienne could even recall an old issue from the gossip magazine sybarite where her mother and gisèle were photographed together at a tennis tournament hosted at malibu the day of gisèle's twenty-something birthday. did my mother surprise her with tickets that time? either way, later that evening the two were spotted in a private wine cellar continuing their celebrations. after all, in addition to gisèle dominating the silver screen, she also took the runway with her mother. both gisèle and celine certainly possess an impressive portfolio in the modeling industry to this day, and from that long running list of credits one of vivienne's favorite series of landmark fashion shows they walked together had to be the bandini-bancroft campaign put on by the revolutionary fashion designer stefan bancroft. a few decades back he invited a number of fashion aficionados to what was probably the most lavish spectacle the fashion house has ever seen, with each show more extreme than the next. people called it pure magic on the catwalk and at the front rows for months on end because stefan was nothing short of experimental and daring, taking the very concept of a fashion show to the extremes. he chose to hide the faces of his runway models, making them the climax of his show by provoking a sense of intrigue in the audience. the models channeled tech-savvy sartorialism, walking bodysuits covered in neat configurations of led lights resembling human circuit boards, or dresses comprised of aluminum plates strung in a manner reminiscent of chainmail. gloves encrusted with silver crystals crept up their forearms and celestial headpieces were scattered throughout their different looks. beneath carved metallic masks, sculptural mesh adornments and archival references, his models bore outrageous makeup, bright and shocking in contrast to their otherwise monochromatic wardrobes. stefan's show marked the beginning of couture week that year and he did little to disappoint the masses. his über-modern pieces were balanced with inspiration from old-fashioned victorian aesthetics and muses like marchesa casati. vivienne has always been absolutely obsessed with the looks he showcased throughout the span of that week, breaking the boundaries of fashion in a way that felt equally extravagant and controversial. stefan bancroft was known for being innovative, a fashion designer who established a dialogue between synthetic materials and the body. he liked to play with form and different ways fashion could be presented whether that be in runways or fashion institutions. most of his projects have drifted toward the idea of fashion residing in a blurry line between fiction and reality. it's what drew vivienne to his work. coincidentally, the last show of couture week that year also happened to be the night her parents were introduced to each other for the first time, as they so loved to reminisce on. stefan bancroft worked alongside her father dario, who at the time was pioneering what would soon become the dimentico legacy. back then, his work with fashion designers like stefan led to a number of groundbreaking debuts that hit the fashion world and transformed couture as the nation knew it. since it's founding, the bandini-bancroft fashion house has been a symbol of the intimate partnership and success shared by her family and the bancroft's. it was almost fitting that her parents met through their mutual connection with stefan.
indentas vivienne greeted gisèle's husband chandler she couldn't help but appear somewhat distracted by the sight of their children looming behind him. she's always thought of gisèle and chandler as akin to family given the relationship they share with her parents, but it was far more difficult for her to feel the same way about the auclair children. apart from the exception of mylan, they were all far closer in age to her two younger sisters than they were to her. even with that in mind though carmen and gianna have done very little to build any meaningful relationships with either margot, léna, hugo or clementine. it almost bordered strange, having parents who possessed close bonds while no such sentiment could be found between their children. whereas her youngest sister gia has always naturally been reclusive and quiet around other people, carmen simply didn't care enough to look down from the pedestal she has built for herself. on top of that, she's far too busy with all the things teenage girls her age are. friendship drama, relationship falling outs, making a name for herself in editorial shoots, the prospect of graduating high school soon. hell, carmen hardly tolerated her own family at times. vivienne couldn't help but sneak a glance in her sisters direction when chandler stepped past her to join his wife and her parents. as one might expect, carmen was looking directly over at the auclair children with a not so-subtle stare. she was angled toward gia, her rosé tinted lips moving in a way that oozed judgement. over the noise of the hall it was impossible to hear just what she was whispering, but judging by their previous conversations when vivienne was in earshot, she could take a stab at what sort of things were coming out of carmen's mouth. although gia seemed to be entertaining carmen for the time being, it seemed as though something - or rather someone - suddenly distracted her, drawing her attention away from her sister. carmen herself was quick to straighten in her chair the moment she realized someone was tentatively approaching them, reflexively shifting away from her sister. reaching into her purse with manicured nails, carmen cast a side-eye at the youngest auclair boy, hugo, before diverting her attention onto her phone. gia on the other hand offered him a hesitant albeit kind smile. she's been trying to get her foot into the door in the world of acting and his mother gisèle has been giving her a helping hand in the process, acting as her coach and mentor. sometimes vivienne would drop gia off at their estate and they'd run into the younger boy whenever they'd stop by. "hi. how are you? um, there's a seat next to me here if you want to take it. i mean─ you don't have to, but you know, if you want to, you can.." movement from the corner of vivienne's eye drew her attention away from her two siblings. well, well, well... draped in a lustrous pelt of ebony and carob at his shoulder and adorned with golden finery, mylan auclair's fittings practically forced a person to stare. there was nothing lacking in the way he dressed, unlike the vast majority of men attending the inauguration dinner with their usual run-of-the-mill suit and ties. honestly though it would be so much easier for her to nitpick his appearance, to find something that stood out to her as awkward or downright ugly, but he was like a breath of fresh air amidst the otherwise uncreative lot they shared the banquet hall with tonight. somehow he even managed to make smoking look like a planned accessory to his outfit. skinny tendrils of smoke crept up into the air from his now-lowered cigarette. the entirety of mylan's ensemble tonight felt entirely on brand for a man of his nature. he was like a walking image of the defiant and uncontrollable repertoire he has gained during his time in the music industry. vivienne had been betting she'd be able to place his expression when she saw him, but she was only met with the effortless cool he projected, the same sort he might project in one of many avant-garde photoshoots she's seen him in. maybe she was in for a challenge, then. hopefully he'd be able to keep up with her. "you know, i always like a man in red." a flash of mischief crossed her features before she returned his greeting, albeit somewhat briskly. the lingering scent of smoke clinging to mylan briefly assaulted her senses before she could step away. the supermodel's attention was quick to target the furry cloak wrapped snug around his shoulders. when it comes to the exploit of animal wear in fashion, there aren't a large number of fashion houses known for producing that level of quality in the industry. she couldn't help but point an unassuming finger at the pelt. "hm. let me guess. nicole yearwood, is it?" she questioned innocently, her eyes flickering from the article of clothing to meet his gaze. "cute." the side of her mouth started to quirk upward but before either her or mylan could say a word more, the sudden arrival of his younger sister erased the cheeky smile growing on vivienne's face. his sister's unexpected interruption was probably a good thing. vivienne pushed a few locks of dark hair over her shoulder, quick to dismiss mylan at the sight of the seemingly eager younger woman. she's seen the look on her face before. any blossoming model starting to gain traction often seeks some form of validation from those established in the industry, and luckily for léna explicit admiration was a sure-fire way to catch vivienne's attention. only a year older than her sister carmen, léna auclair was already making a name for herself in the modeling world. unlike a great number of rising models, she didn't seem to be having trouble thriving since first setting foot in the rather cut-throat environment of fashion. vivienne was sure she even saw the younger woman cover for the magazine prodigy recently too. or maybe that was someone else? it was just so hard to keep up with the accomplishments of others when she was too busy trying to stay on top of her own success. "my, look at you, léna. your dress...it's like you walked straight out of santo bandini's final show, in bocca al lupo...god, my great-grandfather really was a marvel of his time, don't you think?" as usual, vivienne had a way of making people feel clueless, throwing around niche industry references she thought everyone should know.
indentabove the chatter of the hall, the sound of gisèle's announcement was enough to divert her attention from the pleasant young woman and her not-so-pleasant older brother. she looked over to where the actress stood by the table, curious. "a surprise? well, i do like the sound of that." vivienne couldn't help but smile as the older woman endearingly steered her toward an empty seat beside carmen. still fiddling with her phone beneath the shelter of the table top, her younger sister hardly acknowledged her presence beyond a short glance. vivienne discretely swatted the side of carmen's arm to get her attention. the pointed look she gave the eighteen year-old was enough to make her realize her manners. with a glare, carmen reluctantly directed her attention toward the auclair family, placing her phone facedown in her lap. her younger sister knew better than to make a scene in front of the other guests at the table. although most of the tables occupants had taken a seat by now, gisèle and mylan remained standing, her son designated to give her a helping hand. vivienne would think the situation wholesome if not somewhat amusing to witness if it weren't for the uncertainty she felt toward the singer-songwriter. when she first saw mylan only moments earlier, he'd done an excellent job fronting his indifference. or maybe he didn't hold her to any hard feelings to begin with, passing their last interaction off as a loss and moving on entirely. if he was the sort of man she suspected he was, then she wouldn't be surprised to hear that. he probably didn't spend more than a waking minute feeling perturbed over what last happened between them. after all, he was the mylan auclair. there weren't many people in this country who would turn him down, so it made her think: what would he need her for? mylan was nothing if not a man she needed to avoid for both her own sake and for that of her career, boasting a history of treating people like they were disposable commodities tagging along for his ride to stardom. no, that would never work out. hopefully she'd made that plenty clear to him, too. the last thing she needed was a direct connection to new hollywood's most rambunctious star. the media would have a field day if their names were even so much as uttered in the same breath. at the end of the day, vivienne didn't mind coming off as cold or supercilious either. she could respect mylan as an artist but she drew a line between them for a reason. he was everything alluring and fascinating to her and that was certainly alarming and dangerous enough. she couldn't afford to publicly get mixed up with someone like that. vivienne would only end up being another name bolded across a magazine cover for heart break central, stupid enough for getting involved with mylan auclair in the first place. could the man even hold a stable relationship, or did he enjoy flitting around from one person to the next like some sort of drama-attracting magnet? were his friendships anything like his public dating life, fleeting and short-lived? she supposed none of that mattered anyway. vivienne was just thankful none of that hot mess was any of her problem. she knew she couldn't hail herself as some sort of angel when it might come to receiving speculation from the nation but at-least every public appearance, talk show interview or red carpet debut she's ever made has been flawlessly managed since the ripe age of twelve. everything in her control has always been just that. granted, no single person is exempt from scrutiny and sometimes the press has catch things that invited scathing criticism from the masses. vivienne has always had a hard time warding off accusations of brewing up cat fights backstage, among other things. nobody's perfect though.
indentvivienne perked up at the sight of the bottle gisèle revealed to the table, the woman's slender fingers wrapped around the glistening glass. a noise of awe escaped her mothers lips. maybe tonight won't be such a drag after all. "oh, you shouldn't have! you spoil us too much, gisèle," celine adoringly insisted, a smile beginning to spread across her sculptured features. any winery being the recipient of ten consecutive perfect scores from la revue du vin de france certainly deserved some merit. just hearing gisèle describe the flavor profile of the chardonnay conferred a sort of lavishness that excited her tastebuds. she watched the woman begin to pour some of the wine, her attention flickering to mylan as he dutifully took the wine glasses from his mother to deliver to her parents. both celine and dario gave mylan a silent thank-you in the form of a smile, her mother reaching forward to delicately grasp the lower half of the stem between her fingers. celine gently swirled the glass in a few gentle motions to separate the aromas in the wine before lifting it from the table. her father followed suit, raising his own glass to observe the appearance of the wine in the bright light of the chandelier above them. looking at dario, celine raised the glass to her nose to take in the exquisite aroma gisèle described for them. she raised her eyebrows in surprise. "mm. my, that's unique...almost deliciously superb with all those light notes. not overbearing at all." dario smiled at her in amusement. "oh, yeah? and when did you become such a wine connoisseur?" her father raised the glass to his lips, turning his attention over to gisèle who just finished pouring two drinks for chandler and margot. "tell me you have a tip or two on how i might possibly win my wife back after this, gisèle. she's already enamored and hasn't even taken a sip for christ's sake," he joked, earning a playful look from celine who leaned over to peck the side of his cheek reassuringly. "truly, the chardonnay is splendid. very thoughtful." he added, genuine. vivienne was so distracted by the shenanigans going on between her own parents she hardly realized mylan was headed in her direction. she could still make out parts of their conversation despite otherwise tuning out. "i'll give you a tip myself dario. why don't we finally go to that vineyard together and do some tasting? gisèle, you wouldn't believe how long i've been pestering him..." with an expression that certainly didn't invite conversation, vivienne stared at the wine glass mylan placed in front of her. she remained silent, like she couldn't bother giving him a thank-you apart from a brief glance in his direction. the sooner he left her side the better. but mylan was lingering for what seemed like a moment too long though. what are you up to, mylan auclair? when she heard the sound of his voice, vivienne had little choice but to look up at him through her lashes. what immediately came to mind when she looked at him comprised a string of four plain words: annoying, infuriating, pesky, provoking. they only just sat down for the night and he was already blatantly trying to get under her skin. that look on his face told her he was actually enjoying this, too. perhaps she should've ran a timer to see how long it was going to take for mylan to start poking at her. honestly though? maybe she should be flattered. he cared enough to try and mine a reaction out of her, and the fact he was so quick to resort to ill remarks seemed telling enough. did i hurt your ego, poor baby? is that what this is all about? a moment later, the man vanished from her side altogether. for a moment a hint of amusement crept onto her features as she stared at his retreating form, the side of her mouth beginning to turn upward before her features were schooled back into neutrality. too preoccupied with conversation at the table anyway it seemed highly unlikely anyone would have had the chance to catch on to their brief encounter at all. with mylan gone her attention shifted toward her wine, curiously eyeing the contents of the glass from where she sat. vivienne reached forward to delicately pick up the glass, bringing the drink close to her face so that she could smell the aroma, all the while concealing the fact she actually was inspecting her drink for any stray cigarette ashes. with the glass to her lips, she looked down at those seated at the table. her eyes skipped past mylan altogether. "please, the wine is lovely. you've outdone yourselves, gisèle, chandler. and seeing you two again is as much a present as the chardonnay." as dario spoke a sound of agreement came from his wife celine. "mhm. and you know i always love your choices in drink, gisèle." vivienne silently took a sip of her wine, watching her mother whose smile has seemed to be unwavering since the auclair family first joined them at the table. with gisèle bringing up their family's current and ongoing affairs though, vivienne had a feeling this conversation was going to last awhile, sort of like a tennis match but between inquiring friends. celine turned her attention back to dario with a knowing smile on her lips as she raised her glass to her mouth. "what?" he tried to resist the urge to smile at her. "oh, don't be so modest, dario!" her mother joked. "gisèle, chandler, you two must know that magazine, wired? that business-centered one so terribly niche and too boring for my own taste - don't give me that look, dario - well, they're holding their annual soirée for entrepreneurship and business in a month or so, and of course dario is presenting this year. he's planning on revealing a particularly interesting pursuit for bandini-bancroft..." dario affectionately took celine's free hand on the table top as he looked at gisèle and chandler. "well, i'll spare you two the details otherwise i'll be sure to bore you to death. it's been something in the works for awhile now though. a reinvention of a legacy, really. i'm sure you'll recall stefan bancroft, a fashion designer whom works very intimately with our luxury houses- well, he and i have been digging back in to the roots of the company to conjure up a homage to the final collection my grandfather only half saw through..."
indentthe sound of gia's excitement distracted vivienne.
indent"..are those canapés? vivienne!" gianna plucked two of the hors d'oeuvres from the tray of a passing server, reaching past carmen to plop one of the two canapés onto vivienne's empty plate. she had made sure to grab another one for hugo, seemingly whether he wanted one or not. vivienne's eyes flickered to the thin slice of stale bread almost judgmentally. it appeared to be spread with compound butter and garnished with caviar paste, paprika and green and red peppers. canapés are largely a decorative food, boasting colorful and eye-pleasing garnishes. she didn't have much of an appetite right now though, let alone one for an atrociously buttered and brown bread triangle packed with a heaping pile of scallions and caviar. "no, you can have it, gia. i'm not hungry," she informed her, though began to trail off when she realized her younger sister was no longer listening to her. sitting in between her and gia, carmen couldn't help but stifle what would've been a quiet laugh before turning her attention across the table and over to mylan. she cleared her throat before speaking up, as if to capture his attention. "mylan? hi." she then offered a smile to the man once she was sure he was acknowledging her. carmen carried herself in a confident manner, not too far off from vivienne herself, which might explain why she wasn't deterred to strike up conversation with him. "i hope you don't find this too intrusive of me to ask, but i'm kind of dying to know what plans you have for this year─ are you like, planning on getting a new album out, or are you going to be going on tour anytime soon? i mean i think i speak for just about everybody right now when i say i have to hear more about what you're up to," carmen absently twirled a strand of her dark brown hair between her pointer finger as she leaned forward in her seat. "and not to be that person or anything, but i've actually always really loved your work. when your first tracks came out however long ago, i was already on it. i've been a true fan since like, the very start." at first, vivienne didn't want to intrude on carmen's attempt to conversate with mylan, though the more her younger sister spoke the more inclined she felt to butt in. she gave a slight side-eye to the young woman though it went wholly unnoticed. judging by the way her younger sisters expressed how ecstatic they were to see mylan earlier it came as no surprise that carmen was taking whatever opportunity she could to pounce on him. regardless of how eager she was to speak to him, vivienne felt she came off sounding ridiculously devoted to him and his work for someone who probably would have only been around the age of ten when mylan first debuted some of his hit songs anyway. the carmen she knew had little care for music or those behind the creation of the greatest songs, though it was very typical of her sister to try and kiss up to whoever she perceived to be the most popular or attractive person in the room. she supposed most people would act that way around a new hollywood sensation either way. vivienne took another sip of her drink before decisively sitting it down on the table before her, her hand still settled at the base of the stem. the canapé gia gave her remained untouched on her plate. the model leaned back in her chair slightly, her attention turning away from carmen and finally to acknowledge mylan. vivienne regarded him in a manner far less affectionate than carmen. she looked at him almost in challenge. "you know what? she's actually right. color me intrigued. i'd bet you're something of a pretty busy man, mylan. aren't you?" the woman crossed her arms across her chest. from the corner of her eye she caught carmen staring at her almost in disbelief. like it were an afterthought, she briefly glanced to the younger woman in feigned apology. "oh, right. sorry for eavesdropping." insincere, her attention was quick to turn back over to mylan. "it is just so hard to resist intruding. i mean hearing all this admiration my sister has for you? it almost sounds like you found the solution for world peace or something." a hint of amusement bathed in mockery surfaced in her voice. evidently, vivienne wasn't half as interested in what mylan had planned for his future career endeavors as carmen seemed to be, but she wasn't going to let him off the hook now. he wanted to play this game of cat and mouse just as much as she did. she half-rolled her eyes. "whatever it is you're up to, don't try to act all secretive about it. my sister's all excited now, and you'd only disappoint her. go on, don't be a bore. i'm sure you can let us in on something. besides, i can't imagine you have much to keep on the low right now anyway." while vivienne sought to wedge herself into carmen and mylan's conversation, a whole other discussion happened to be transpiring at the table between their parents. her mother celine drew an arm around gia's shoulders where she sat beside her. the younger girl offered a rather awkward smile to greet gisèle and chandler as she was all but dragged out of her conversation with hugo. celine smiled affectionately at gia before carrying on. "─anyway, that's certainly enough about us. i want to hear more about what you two have been up to! honestly, we need to have a proper get-together soon. maybe at ours? no more catching up at big events like these."

[vaermina]

ＣＯＮＳＴＡＮＣＥ ＡＤＬＥＲxxx
I.xdemigirlx II.xthe rebellionx III. an entertainer known as dahlia


indentblotches of swarming purple and deep yellow haunted the waning sky like the coming of a big blood bruise.
indentthe church ruins were silent in the gathering dusk. the building's crumbling walls reached for the sky like burnt, scalded fingers. patches of pale lichen and swirling ivy ruled over the mounds of towering stone, and whatever remained of the church's oak-beamed roof has long since rotted away underneath the sweltering sun. the church's decayed steeple had no spire and the bronze bell that once rung proudly for all to hear lay neglected underneath a bush of raging thorns. the nave was just as desolate and wrecked as the other rooms and corridors connecting the church together. the pews were eaten alive by wood rot and the once shiny tile underfoot now cracked, stained, and poked through by growing weeds. there had been an altar once at the head of the nave, now a pile of putrescent, painted elm wood, fractured marble, and broken glass. birds and bats nestled comfortably in what remained of the church's collapsed ceiling. any hints of pre-war religious grandeur through rich stained glass windows, motley altarpieces, and vivid murals were lost in the mists of time. the crenulated arcades and arching rib vaults were all that remained of the church's artistic architecture; they were rivaled only by a gallery of weathered chimeras that guarded the ancient ruins of the altar. a massive crucifix hung limp from a partially collapsed wall on the nave's north side. the crucifix, a once evocative carving of wood, pine, and elm, appeared almost haunting in the shadows of the encroaching twilight. rot has claimed most of the carving already. the image of jesus nailed to the cross had no legs and only one arm, and the passings of rain and wind have stolen the careful chisels of his features. there were wiry holes in his stomach from the teeth of persistent dampness. what remained of his face was twisted in an eternal expression of anguish and credence. he was looking up at the ceiling - now the sky and the emergence of its shy stars - as if he were gazing upon a travesty the rest of them could not see. who knows, maybe he is. the carving's eye sockets were empty and judging by the sharp slashes on his periocular area, scavengers who stumbled upon the ruins must have cut his eyes out. they were probably made of gemstones. a crown of bleached thorns sat atop the carving's head, leaking drops of faded blood down his forehead and cheeks. jesus himself was pale and withered, and whatever color his wooden skin had been was now reduced to the color of curdled milk. someone had taken great care in carving the martyr before the world went dark but the carving's delicate details were reduced to nothing from the oldfangled wisps of time. constance could still see a few delicacies in bloom when she looked hard enough. there were several veins that remained popping underneath the carving's skin, a gentle curve of the ribs that told the tale of a man starving and gaunt, the pale hair that clung chipped to his sylvan skull. the carving held court over nothing but heaps of fetid earth, strewn stones, and a small crater in the middle of the hall where a sweetgum sapling grew. it was a small, scrawny thing with a willowy trunk and the promise of ruby and hickory flowers. it sprouted from the muddy mire that made up the base of the paltry crater - a result of the church's foundation gradually sinking over the years. the sweetgum tree was only a few years old and it would take many more still for its flowers to fully blossom. there was a small layer of stagnant water at the base of the tree from the storms that pelted the wasteland earlier today. dragonflies buzzed lazily over the water's surface. rays of evenfall cascaded through the abandoned church, washing the sweetgum tree in swathes of dusty purple, whitened lavender and red that poured forth as dark as blood. the sapling and the carving sharing a room together was an almost bittersweet view to behold. the crucifix was a testament of the past and man's deadly ambitions, old and disintegrating with time while the sweetgum tree was growing stronger every year and promised to bring life back into the neglected church. constance knelt by the tree to scoop a bucket of water out of the small crater. she was not afraid of ghosts and phantasms that some claim lurk in the church ruins. there are much more frightening things out here in the wasteland - humans and creatures alike. the true monsters you need to be afraid of but which one is more terrifying? constance had no clue.
indentthe past few days have taken a toll on everybody in the outpost. the consequences of the botched fort raid a few days ago have done nothing but plunge the area surrounding arcadia - and the city itself, quite frankly - into periods of chaos. small riots and moments of violent civil upheaval have sprouted in the city and its surrounding towns since the lockdown and general amabele's massacre. wastelanders were angry and petrified over the fate of those new california refugees and they were confused and bitter over the lockdown. they did not care about being forced to stay inside their homes and subjugated to searches; merchants cared about their stocks of inventory that were destroyed and seized, townsfolk cared about their loved ones and neighbors that were hurt in the stampedes, families cared about their kin who were unlawfully beaten or obtained in the queues, travelers cared about being shaken down on the roads and suffering bruises, broken bones or even burnt supplies that were put to the torch by despotic soldiers. people were angry and they have a right to be angry but acrimony and indignation were a recipe for violence. the conclave was struggling to keep order in the area. wastelanders in arcadia were taking to the streets in sporadic protests earlier this week before martial law was enacted to help curb the violence sprouting between the townsfolk and conclave personnel. it's the same in nearby towns and hamlets. wastelanders attacking conclave personnel in the streets, brawls and fistfights erupting in bars and taverns, thieves taking advantage of the mayhem to steal and plunder, soldiers recklessly gunning down anyone who threatens them and their superiors. the other night, constance swore she saw the angry hue of a distant fire on the horizon. there are no forests or grasslands in the area - most of the surrounding wasteland is nothing but dead grass, rocky terrain, and dry riverbeds so what building was on fire? did someone put a house in arcadia to the torch? was mountmend on fire? did something go wrong in a military fort? so many unknowns. the abandoned church was like an unmarked island in the middle of a vast ocean. they were secluded out here with no way of knowing what was going on around them. they have received one or two curt briefings from passing travelers but those were far and few in between. those who have fled the turmoil of arcadia and the towns nearby were not too keen on conversing with strangers. the only ones who sought refuge on the church grounds were those seeking medical attention from the lockdown and proceeding riots. the outpost's sole commanding officer, maven hearst, had a field hospital set up near the road to admit patients injured throughout the week's bedlam. constance knew her hospitality did not stem from a place of sole altruism. the recent chaos of riots, lockdowns, and violence in the streets was going to uproot families and result in a considerable flow of traffic near the abandoned church. it was not the normal type of traffic, either. people are going to look for places to spend the night or set up camp and what better ruins to inhabit than the church? the rebels in the basement could not risk someone stumbling upon their secret entrance, no matter how clever its password was. the field hospital was the perfect distraction to not only help the wounded and ill but keep unwanted visitors from sniffing around. there were tents set up directly outside the church's nave and near the wagons for some of the rebels to sleep in; it helped silence the basement's existence by granting the rebels a spot to sleep and rest without utilizing the basement's entrance throughout the day. patients were not likely to grow suspicious if they thought their caretakers had their own camp nearby. maven selected a few rebels to care for the patients and a handful of others to guard the church ruins. it never hurt to show a bit of gun strength to deter those with foul intentions. the rebels not chosen for either task stayed inside the basement and helped wherever their skills were needed. they were allowed to leave if they wanted a gulp of fresh air but they had to stay behind the church and out of sight. maven chose rebels with a decent amount of medical knowledge to tend to those who came limping to their doorstep. constance volunteered to help. she did not have the training or knowledge to be a sufficient doctor, no but she was a nurse assistant once in new california and she knew the basics of medical care. besides, maven thought it would be beneficial to take advantage of the traffic on the nearby roads so they could receive word from travelers on the conclave's comings and goings. they weren't able to contact other rebel outposts in the area for fear of their radio signal being detected on the conclave's monitors so it was a useful way to gather their own information on the government's daily passings. some travelers were even willing to trade them supplies in exchange for medical care, another helpful advantage considering they weren't able to travel to nearby towns to buy supplies for the outpost.
indentconstance kept a firm grip on the bucket as they stepped over crumbling stones and navigated their way out of the nave. the field hospital was not really a field hospital. it was just three white canopy tents smushed together and jampacked with spare cots from the church's basement. most of the cots were old and torn but comfortable compared to sleeping in the mud. they had some white sheets clipped to the tents' valance poles to give the patients inside some privacy from the outside world. an old, rusty brazier was crackling outside the tent to chase away the waking shadows of the night. dry grass crunched beneath constance's feet as they approached the field hospital, the water bucket still in hand. the danger that they might be putting themselves in had no bearing on constance's feelings. it was risky to offer their services so close to an outpost but after the disaster earlier this week, constance's resolve only strengthened. why were they working towards freeing the country from the conclave's fascistic policies if they were not willing to protect and aid the people they claimed to care about? the commons don't have outposts and underground bunkers to hide in when the conclave decides to show its teeth. innocent people are often the ones left to suffer when those in power decide to turn off the safety catch. there were several rebels in the outpost who complained that they were at risk of drawing too much attention to themselves but what are they supposed to do? the people should be their first priority. they cannot hope to win this fight if they allow the general public to take the punches for them. the masses have already been beaten down and thrown into pools of distrust, poverty, and early demises because of the conclave. they have grown familiar with the federal government never being on their side and treating them like second-class citizens. wastelanders have experienced a plethora of significantly limited legal rights, civil rights, and socioeconomic opportunities since the conclave came into power. the government yearns to control them and shape them into the ideal citizens but they are not willing to take the effort to do so. it's easier to dictate people when they are too weak and frightened to fight back. two soldiers in suits of power armor can easily mow down two dozen wastelanders; what the conclave lacks in numbers, they make up for in technological and academic advancement. the general population needs to know that the rebellion is on their side. they need to know that the rebels aren't trying to initiate a bloody conflict just to prove a point. they are not trying to use innocent lives as scapegoats to solidfy their own egos and pride against the conclave's encroaching tyranny. constance did not want the resistance's actions to appear like they were simply using their fellow countrymen as a means to an end. they have to show their compassion and thirst for justice by doing everything the conclave does not and that begins by offering aid, supplies and comfort to the wasteland population. they cannot allow the innocents out there to take the blame for their ineptness; what type of message are they sending if they go into hiding after every botched mission and allow blameless people to take the fall? the rebels who died a few days ago trying to smuggle confidential files out of fort themus's archives paid the price for their beliefs. they knew what they were sacrificing and they continued with the mission anyway. they died trying to expose what the rest of them could only assume was evidence of the government's immoral and corrupted ways. they died fighting for america's future. they could have fled upon the first notion of trouble but they chose to stand their ground and fight their way out, no matter how doomed the outcome proved to be. the heroism, the courage, the strength to look death in the eyes and refuse to back down should be the lifeblood that flows through the heart and soul of the resistance. the rebellion could not hope to win this conflict if they hide in bunkers and basements and refuse to show people their true intentions by helping the local communities whenever they can. true, they cannot claim responsibility for some of these noble deeds without putting themselves in danger but its the thought that counts. they need to help whenever they can, even if it means shouldering a certain degree of apprehension. rebels like declan waters take advantage of the rebellion's structure and goals to achieve their own ends but that means sabotaging the revolution's reputation in the process. they cannot allow the wasteland population to fear or hate them as they do the conclave because what do they have if not the people's support? what type of resistance would they be if they become entangled in their own rage and choose to let the commons suffer to justify the end? constance refused to hide in the shadows and watch as the conclave rampaged through arcadia and the surrounding area because of the rebellion's mistake. they had to lend a hand somehow.
indentconstance shouldered her way inside the field hospital before dumping the bucket of water into an old trough. they used it to drench their rags and wet wraps. the field hospital was not very large; it held about a dozen or so cots with three old nightstands used to prop up hazy and cracked lanterns. they had a single table set up at the head of the canopy tents that held their supplies. streams of hazy amber light flickered from the lanterns and washed over the slumbering forms on the cots as constance approached the table. she lightly set the bucket aside. their supplies were beginning to diminish. most of it was basic medical supplies such as syringes, needles, medical tubing, iv sets, medical penlights, medical procedure trays and kits, stethoscopes, antiseptic wipes, and bandages. they had a few old blood pressure and heart monitors that were hooked up to an extended line from a rusty generator outside the tent but they were so dilapidated that it was hard to keep them online. most of their supplies and equipment were fundamental tools and medicines used to treat open wounds and minor trauma. they did not have anything to treat serious injuries and infections such as internal bleeding, burns, sepsis, fractures, or head wounds. they not only lacked a sterilized environment but equipment, too, and nobody in the outpost was experienced enough to adequately handle such injuries. babette spent a good chunk of her afternoon organizing what remained of their pain medicine. they had plenty of nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory bottles left but most of their essential medicines have dwindled within the last few days. they've been forced to rely on the outpost's stash of common medicinal herbs just to get by. constance was not downplaying the importance of medicinal herbs in traditional settings but the benefits can be limited. some herbs can cause more harm than good, especially when mixed with pharmaceutical drugs. babette insisted they stick with valerian, ginger, echinacea, and chamomile to reduce their patient's anxiety and insomnia so they can spare the anti-inflammatory bottles for other situations. nevertheless, they needed to restock their medical supplies. they've received some gauze packages and pastes from their exchanges with weary travelers but it was not enough. merchants were hesitant to travel this week based on the latest reports from their fellow businessmen. the conclave has destroyed and seized hundreds of merchant goods throughout the week; sacks of grain and rice were cut open, crates of vegetables and fruit seized and upturned, wooden barrels and boxes hacked to pieces and in turn spoiling the goods inside. the soldiers were looking for anything incriminating, anything that could be hidden amongst the goods and link the merchants to the rebellion or other treasonous organizations. as expected, the conclave's aggressive and downright tactless actions have disrupted arcadia's local economy. there was no way they were going to able to flag down trading caravans when none of them wanted to brave the roads to begin with. traders and merchants are the backbones of the church outpost. they cannot grow any vegetables here or keep livestock in fear of attracting attention and they need gun ammunition, medical supplies, armor widgets, batteries, tools, and horse feed to keep their daily operations from crashing down. she had no idea what they were going to do.
indentthe wind lightly battered the thin walls of the field hospital as a few medical staff made their rounds. most of the patients were asleep. the conclave established their own medical tent outside arcadia's walls following the lockdown but their wasteland patients were one and few. most of the wastelanders who were hurt during the initial lockdown did not seek aid from the conclave medical staff. call it pride or pure superstition but they did not trust anyone working for the conclave to see to their injuries. it was different here. earnest figg, a veteran rebel who did reconnaissance and scouting for the resistance while under the employment of new california's red rangers, agreed upon maven's behest to sponsor their makeshift field hospital beneath his employer's name. much like the freedmen and other charitable groups, the red rangers often provide emergency assistance, medical services, and disaster relief to areas affected by chaos and bedlam; be it natural disasters, transportation accidents, explosions, bandit attacks, or civil unrest such as the lockdown in arcadia. the red rangers share a shaky alliance with the conclave, though and most of their operations are recognized by the government. they had certain privileges that other volunteer groups such as the freedmen cannot hope to achieve and one of them was erecting temporary relief clinics - with the proper certifications - to assist areas with displaced and widely injured people. the red rangers have earned their respect; groups such as the freedmen share their hospitable views but are not nearly as organized and trained. the red rangers are as much soldiers as they are humanitarians for they have fought the bandits in new california for decades until the conclave came along. earnest figg has been working with the red rangers for nearly thirty years and he was as seasoned and respectable as they come. he's acted as chief of staff over field hospitals and emergency management stations before. his sponsorship allowed the rebels in the field hospital to work without worrying about a group of conclave soldiers barreling down upon them. he had the proper paperwork to fool any conclave officer who came sniffing about. earnest told her a few days ago that if they were any closer to new california, he could have contacted a local red ranger outpost for supplies but the dixon wasteland is no stronghold for them. they have few bases here and none close to arcadia. the red rangers are most prominent in new california; their strength wanes the further you go east. fortunately for them, their strange concordat with the conclave has no state lines and the church rebels had yet to deal with any suspicious soldiers. hospitals and clinics manned by the wasteland population have a notorious reputation amidst the patronizing ranks of the conclave. disease runs rampant in most of the makeshift hospitals manned by wastelander staff. they do not have the proper equipment, materials or medicine to treat their patients and keep themselves safe from the spread of contagious diseases. the demisceus plague has already chewed through a good chunk of the western seaboard. spread by huge irradiated rats known as murloids, the plague has wiped small villages and hamlets off the map. some people fled their homes when their towns were ravaged by the epidemic; plague doctors would file in silently afterwards to gather the dead and burn them beneath the stars. the conclave were none too keen on becoming involved in the throes of death, especially given how distrustful the wasteland population views the federal government. many refuse to accept vaccines and with hygiene and basic environmental health knowledge vacant amongst wastelanders (most cannot even read or write) it was impossible to curb rampant diseases. conclave soldiers and officers are wary of becoming involved with any sort of wastelander medical environment in fear of catching some debilitating ailment themselves. constance and her colleagues have gotten away with a lot of mischief by proclaiming one of their companions has been experiencing a round of concerning symptoms the past few days. the personnel badgering them are quick to scurry after that. they won't risk it unless a higher superior was barking at them to stop being so craven. the chaos of the recent lockdown has also saved them from unwanted prying. one of their patients told them that the conclave was looking at new horizons now for they have learned the names of two wanted fugitives involved in the fort break-in and archive thefts: valentina kalajian and julian moreno. there were flyers and holograms popping up at every settlement for miles around with their facial composites in full display. maven met with the patient herself to learn more of what he knew.
indentconstance left the slumbering patients in the care of her fellow rebels as she exited the field hospital. shadows licked her every step as the fading rays of twilight bled into the night. as she made her way around the church, her mind lingered on arcadia's lockdown and the two alleged fugitives. they knew the names of every man and woman involved in the fort break-in. valentina kalajian and julian moreno were not on the list. as far as constance was concerned, nobody else was supposed to partake in the thefts. was it possible that some higher puppeteer wiggled another niche in their plan, something that constance and edwin were not aware of? the rebels who snuck into fort themus were supposed to meet them at arcadia's gates upon their successful departure from the fort. obviously, nothing went to plan. they were discovered to have stolen numerous files from the fort's digital archives before they could step foot outside the base's walls; a bloody skirmish of singing bullets and blind panic followed. their colleagues perished a mile or two outside the walls of fort themus. constance thought the entire mission was for naught, a rash and poorly coordinated blunder that cost this world a handful of brilliant and courageous souls but it seemed like something else was afoot. were these two mystery figures fellow rebels who happened to be nearby and took on the responsibility of finishing what their colleagues could not? were these strangers scavengers or looters who happened to pass by the bodies and took what they could before the conclave flocked over? do these strangers even exist? rumors have been spreading like wildfire the past few days. accusations, lies and gossip lie heavy on everyone's tongues. their patient swore he was telling the truth but it only raised questions and doubts on the outpost's end. constance could not imagine that two scavengers were much interested in archived files. hell, half of the wasteland population cannot even read. it pained her to think that the files her colleagues stole might have been looted by random scavengers and lie forgotten in their stashes. hell, they could have scavenged the rebels' corpses for their armor, weapons and valuables and threw the files aside upon discovering their 'empty' value. constance could almost picture the tapes lying abandoned on the side of some road, stuck in the mud of some ruddy streambed or tucked amidst moss and twigs of some bird's nest atop a brindled tree. the thought made them sad. so much blood spilled and for what exactly? this carnage would not end here so long as those two fugitives were on the run. fugitives or rebels? constance did not know. the rebellion has grown strong over the years and not every soul who serves the cause is known to her. maven was still unable to contact the surrounding safehouses in fear the conclave would stumble upon their broadcasts but it's possible that the two renegades fled to a rebel outpost nearby. constance prayed that was the case, that the files their colleagues died for were safe in rebel hands. and if these two fugitives were not fellow rebels who happened to be involved in the break-in? the consequences would be grievous indeed. if the two fugitives are real and true and not some gawdy farce spoken by a callous witness, would they try and return the files to the rebellion or would they abandon the tapes to the wilderness and flee from persecution? it is no easy task, stumbling and searching for the rebellion's capital of yore.
indentthe heart of the resistance was located deep within the badlands, hidden amidst vales and gorges of rising plateaus, sloping hills and towering mountains. it was a vast and inhospitable region with a sparse population. the badlands itself was divided by several belts of territory named and marked by each tract's landscape and defining characteristics. they were like the modern day version of the pre-war state county subdivisions. the resistance's nerve center was nestled beyond the toxic divide and savage valley, burrowed deep within the rolls of thick, dead forests that congregated the earth like an army of skeletons. the toxic divide was a wide dale cut and wedged with hundreds of winding gullies, towering canyons and infested chasms. there were hundreds of rivers that ran through the toxic divide with the most notable being the mired river, formerly known as the missouri river. its waters are so toxic that its currents shine like wet moss and sulfur, and anyone unlucky enough to get trapped in its undertow will die in a watery grave. the mired river is one of many that flow through the toxic divide but it is one of the few rivers that pose a seasonal threat with its devastating flash floods. the bones of travelers, livestock and preserved goods alike scatter the gorges where caravans have been swept away by sudden floodwaters. the top of the escarpments was not much safer with its crumbling cliffs and plant-covered fissures that await silently for an unsuspecting victim to fall through. savage valley, a lowland of scorched grass plains and white rock, sat beyond the toxic divide that was dotted with hundreds of noxious pools and fiery geysers. there were little hills in the valley, and the sparse woodlands that speckled the landscape offered ample shade from the scalding sun. it could be considered peaceful if the valley were not overrun by hungry animals. sharpclaws, lycans, trolls, shriekers, wendigos, ghouls, mongrels, dagons: a plethora of vicious beasts who would not hesitate to rip a person apart. still, even they seemed miniscule compared to the earth-throwers, an enigmatic horde of feral ghouls who prowled the abandoned quarries and mines of the pre-war era. it's no secret that the mining and resource companies who dominated the upper midwest in the pre-war era are now the reason why the badlands is so irradiated and polluted. earth-throwers are believed to be the twisted, rotten remnants of former miners stuck below ground when the nuclear bombs hit. they are considered to be another variant of feral ghouls but unlike their lithe cousins, they are stout and hardy with hunched backs, milky eyes and limbs as thick as tree trunks. their uniforms are melted into their skin and they need breathing apparatuses to survive aboveground but they are rarely seen beyond the caverns and tunnels they once worked in. their hands have grown far too lame to hold weapons so they rely on sheer strength and ferocity to take down their targets. constance has never seen an earth-thrower before but she's heard of them well enough from her fellow colleagues. they are not a threat unless you wander into their domain but a traveler seeking shelter in an old mine or open cave may not know the dangers like they do. not to mention, the drake middrayrim has claimed the southern border of the badlands as its territory and the creature was not shy of humankind. the drake was best known for destroying the military town kartstead several years ago, killing hundreds of military personnel in the span of two hours. its flames were said to be so hot that it disintegrated wood, melted metal and detonated stone. the creature was fond of chasing down conclave aircrafts and there was a gorge several miles south of the toxic divide that was known to travelers as the iron graveyard for over thirty broken aircrafts lay dismantled and burned in the chasms. the drake was oddly intelligent; it spent most of its time hidden within the poisonous clouds of the midwestern glowing sea and hunted at night to avoid drawing attention to itself. from what constance knew, the drake liked to hunt for sport and delighted in hunting down lone aircrafts for not even military jets had the capacity to outfly it. middrayrim was the only one of its kind to engage in such behavior. drakes are enigmatic creatures, best known for their pre-war origins where they were created by an ambitious company to guard their vaults from the madness and chaos that emerged after the great war. from what constance knew, drakes used to be decently sized creatures that resembled overgrown komodo dragons but within the past three hundred years, they have grown to exponential sizes. the drakes that did not die in servitude escaped their chains but most of them have fled into the wilderness. they are rarely seen and rarely a threat to human life. middrayrim was the exception. constance had no idea what his name meant. apparently, the wastelanders who lived in a village known as lake-town up north named him that after a minor god. there's a reason why the conclave has ceased their conquest of the badlands in recent years... but if the conclave could not tame the wilds of the upper midwest, how could two strangers? it would be extremely difficult for anyone outside the rebellion to return the tapes when the way to their headquarters was marked with perils and puzzles.
indentthe basement was quiet and gloomy when constance entered via the secret passageway. a chill hung in the air that not even the flickering flames of the basement's tallow candles and rusty lanterns could chase away. constance could feel goose bumps rising on their arms from the chill. she had dressed herself earlier in a pair of leather breeches, belt, tunic and a brown doeskin jerkin to combat the heat of the wasteland but the basement never failed to sport a certain nip in its air. and as always, its atmosphere was relatively tranquil. a good majority of the basement's occupants were lounging on their cots, reading books and talking to one another while others were tinkering with their weapons, helping themselves to a bowl of stew or organizing whatever remained of the outpost's supplies. there was little to do with the ramifications of arcadia's lockdown lingering overhead. nobody was to leave the outpost's perimeter without maven's consent. the older woman was careful to disperse their ranks in a cautious manner. she has so far sent several people on their way since the lockdown was initiated but the groups were no larger than five and most of them were colleagues who had operations assigned elsewhere: resource scouts, scribes, undercover agents, archivists, the select soldier. it was imperative that they be allowed to continue working despite the recent chaos but maven dare not take any unnecessary risks. she told constance two days ago that she might have something lined up for her and her caravan crew but she needed more time to work out the kinks. it was not easy trying to arrange safe passage for a group as large as hers but she trusted maven's instincts and wisdom. constance was eager to help. she and edwin have done more than just infiltrate forts and swipe critical documents from the conclave. their wagons were useful for smuggling illicit goods and wanted fugitives, and they were more than adept in committing scale-scale sabotage such as cutting phone lines, distributing anti-conclave leaflets and transporting underground papers that all but billowed high treason. they were more than capable of undertaking any task that maven required of them but she knew that the older woman would weigh her options carefully.
indentconstance found edwin and karelsa in the training area. they were not the only ones there. earnest figg was standing dutifully by the straw dummies and paper targets that lined the old basement's lichen-covered wall, his grizzled features shining in approval. it appeared that he was instructing nick and kason in the art of scoped weaponry. their rifles were modified with sound suppressors to keep the crack of their weapons from echoing off the walls of the basement. nick and kason were around the same age - both brazen, defiant and reckless teenage boys who thirst for adventure and peril - but they appeared almost ingenuous in the candlelight, like the rifles they held were far too sophisticated for their uncalloused hands. it was disheartening to realize that they lived in a world where not even children are guaranteed undeniable safety from the horrors of their elders. still, constance would rather they know how to defend themselves than not be able to shoot a gun at all. they lived in an age of barbarity and even someone as peaceable as constance knew the consequences of appearing weak and feeble-minded. sacrifices had to be made but she grieved for the childhood that the younger generation have lost, the childhood they have all lost. this world does not allow children to live their early years in relative bliss anymore. the only ones who are afforded such luxury nowadays are those born into the conclave. it was good that nick and kason were honing in their survival skills although if constance was being honest, she was surprised that kason was not pestering karelsa with his latest boyish antics. if he was not trying to impress her, he was trying to goad her into doing something positively precarious and karelsa was much too cautious to heed his dicey dares. constance found it both amusing and troubling that the youngsters in their crew were split fifty fifty in terms of personality; kason and nick delighted themselves with tales of adventure and splendor while karelsa, hansel and malacai preferred the comforting luxury of safety. there is a reason why kason was danny and mikey's favorite amongst the caravan's cesspool of gangly youths. the teenager had an easy humor and a good heart but his penchant for trouble was only amplified by danny and mikey's presence. thank god the two of them aren't here to start any fires. danny has been taking care of their horses for the past few days and fighting his ever eternal one-sided battle with the crew's horde of furry companions. their sand-cats and bulb-dogs spend most of their time in the safety of the basement but fairfax suggested that one of them should take the creatures outside for some fresh air every few hours to curb any feelings of restlessness in the small creatures. constance and edwin selected danny for the task. the self-proclaimed soldier and legendary pioneer was notorious for his prickly attitude towards the animals but trying to wrangle such a large group of energetic and spirited creatures would keep him distracted from other sorts of troubles. besides, the draft horses that pulled their wagons needed daily exercise and care, and it was always amusing to watch danny try to wrangle the huge equines into submission. constance passed earnest figg and the two boys in their session, not wanting to disturb them of their concentration.
indent"well, well," the entertainer chided playfully as she approached edwin and karelsa, "lounging around while on the clock, are we? unless you two are thinking of an elaborate scheme to blow up the capital city and end all of our troubles, maven will have you on horse duty alongside danny if she catches you two lollygaggin'." what's worse? cleaning up horse dung or listening to danny's ramblings? constance took a seat next to edwin. she was not surprised to find the two of them sitting together. karelsa was a quiet girl, pleasant in her mannerisms and sharp as a whip but nowhere near as impudent or outspoken like some of their crewmates. she gravitated towards those with a judicious head upon their shoulders. constance did not blame her for that. safety was a luxury nowadays. constance pulled her legs up onto the wooden bench before she shifted around to lie on her back. she laid her head in edwin's lap, her hair pooling about her like a stream of molten gold. "did you know that the president's inauguration dinner is being held tonight in washington? i didn't know either until one of the patients in the field hospital told me about it this morning. i mean, seriously? arcadia and god knows how many other wasteland cities are embroiled in chaos and you know what they do?" she did not give them a chance to answer. "nothing! they do absolutely nothing! how is it possible that we live in a reality where our government chooses to party behind their city walls and drink champagne while its citizens tear each other apart? we thought the lockdown in arcadia was bad but that was only the beginning. did you know that a soldier was stabbed in mountmend yesterday night? he was a private, a young man born in the wasteland who enrolled in the military to try and make a name for himself. apparently, he got stabbed when he tried to separate a fistfight in one of the town's saloons. isn't that just awful? it's getting to a point where we no longer recognize other people as human beings; we just judge others based on first impressions. i mean, don't get me wrong, i have my own thoughts on wastelanders joining the military but does that mean we can just go around shanking people we disagree with? and before one of you try to be a wise ass, i'm not applying this logic to conclave-born citizens who unapologetically abuse their power." the entertainer began to play with the ends of her hair, the mood ring on her index finger glittering various shades of emerald and teal. the ring was molded into the shape of a sea turtle, a gift she received from one of their grateful patients. the mood ring came in a set of two - its sister circlet was carved in the shape of a gilded seahorse - but she gave the other ring to karelsa earlier this week. random effusions of morality and magnanimity aside, constance found herself growing almost painfully aware of how she was intruding into edwin's space - and how she barged in on whatever conversation they were formerly engrossed in. it's not the first time she's suddenly weaseled herself into another person's space. she felt a pang of guilt at her own intensity. constance offered them a forced smile. "jesus, i'm getting as bad as danny with the rambling. you guys are so polite, you know that? you can tell me to shut up or shove a sock in my mouth, whichever way works for you. anyway... what have you two been up to?" she stopped playing with the ends of her hair so she could look up at edwin. shadows danced across his face, chased away only briefly by a flickering flame that ate away a nearby candle. she could make out the hazel gleam of his eyes, the sharp curve of his jaw covered in dark facial hair that she imagined would feel oddly pleasant against her own cheek. he smells good. the scent reminded her of summer, the hazy smoke of a warm campfire in the middle of a piney wood. the tenderness of summer was comforting to her. the dog days, some people called it; a period in the middle of the year that marked the hottest and most sultry days of summertime. superstitions connected the interval of the dog star with drought, fever, lethargy, mad dogs, and bad luck but constance thought of none of that when it came to the charm of summertime. she thought of edwin. he was beautiful like the fading rays of twilight, appealing like the caress of a balmy wind gust that promised the late coming of an afternoon thunderstorm. some people are wary of thunderstorms but constance did not share their apprehension. there was something oddly reassuring about the smell of oncoming rain and the faint crackle of lightning, something she herself has been relating to his fragrance over the years. it brought back memories of constance curled up against him for warmth during nights where thunderstorms would attack the wasteland and the entire crew would be forced to cram themselves into the wagon for shelter. their wagon was not large enough for every single person to achieve a good night's rest. you're always curled up next to at-least one other person, and random kicks to the head and limbs were an hourly occurrence but the warmth was pleasant enough. the thunderstorms were usually long and perilous and brought cold rain that sent the temperature outside plummeting. there were a few times where constance would find herself lying next to edwin. she was never so bold as to touch him with her hands but she would lay curled up next to him, her back usually pressed to his. she always refrained from touching his feet with her own for she has had enough pillows thrown at her head to know her feet were strikingly cold. she relished those moments. their crewmates would often wake up complaining of sore necks and aching limbs but constance rarely shared their discomfort.
indentconstance has never met anyone like edwin. she has never met anyone who saw the world like she does. he was sure-minded, compassionate, disciplined and humane; there were no traces of deception in his blood where he would willingly harm and betray others for his own gain. he was quick-witted and he made her laugh, especially when he had to deal with danny and mikey's antics. he could be serious but not to the point where it made it difficult to talk to him. they had their differences, yes but they were minor and they did not clash with one another. she liked how gentle he could be and she appreciated the way he viewed literature, art, music and culture that made humans the complex creatures they are. her love for him knew no boundaries but such feelings pained her more often than not. there was much good to be found in the relationship they shared with one another but the entertainer often found herself dealing with unwanted grievances on the side such as jealousy, uncertainty and resentment that she desperately tried to distance herself from. there were moments where she would feel a twinge of spite upon seeing him speak to another woman outside their circle that would vanish as quickly as it came, and constance could not count how many times she found herself trying to silently gauge his moods to see if she said or did something to irritate him. constance was lucky that their arduous line of work kept her brain preoccupied most of the time but moments like these reminded her of how hollow she truly felt. whatever piece of her she cut off her person and plastered into edwin's hands, a creature of silent heartache and torment took its spot, curled and wounded and beaten into seclusion. constance has adored edwin for years but she kept her futile yearnings to herself. she was wary of ruining everything they have built and preserved over the years. she was chary of revealing her sentiments towards him because the unknown frightened her. she was unable to tell whether or not she would wrought her own ruin by muddling their purpose here with her personal feelings. they were a family here, a unit of like-minded individuals who cared for not only each other but the world they were trying to build. they have spent years of their lives working towards achieving a fair and principled endgame for the wasteland population but was there any room for personal intimacy in there? the last thing constance wanted to do was create a barrier between them by revealing what could be a plethora of unrequited feelings. the only reason she and edwin first crossed paths was because they were both involved in the rebellion, one brought into the revolution and the other born into it. it was such a simple fact but one that has guided constance's decisions when it came to navigating the complicated feelings she felt towards the man. in normal circumstances, people can balance the love they hold for others and do well at their jobs but this was no ordinary situation. the rebellion demands complete and utter devotion to its cause and while constance was completely loyal to the resistance, she was not sure whether or not she wanted to live this way forever. jesus, even the mere brush of those doubts on her conscience left her feeling reprehensible. she hated the idea of abandoning all they have done and worked for over the past few years. they were nowhere near where they should be in terms of their vision for society but sometimes constance found it impossible to shake the thoughts away. when constance worked on the farms of new california at sixteen years old, she worked alongside an older washerwoman in a large shed where they cleaned and disinfected worker uniforms on the daily. the old woman used to tell her stories of beautiful vales hidden amongst the northern mountains, untouched by the violence of atomic war. the washerwoman claimed that her own mother was born in one such vale, and that she lived in a small cabin on the shores of a large, aegean lake where the fish were plentiful and delicious to eat. the weather was always warm, and the sky was as bright and blue as the lake it stood over. it was a comforting tale but constance sometimes found herself wondering if such a place truly existed. they could move there together, she and edwin and the entirety of their caravan crew. they could build themselves their own cabin on the lake and paint the walls inside yellow, edwin's favorite color. they could raise their own livestock and plant their own crops for there would never be fear of some mutated animal or radiation storm destroying their food supply. malacai could paint a mural on their bedroom wall; he always spoke of his desire to paint a mural someplace where his art would be appreciated. there was something oddly comforting in that idealistic fantasy, no matter how unrealistic it was but that's just what it was: a fantasy. constance could never bring herself to act on such impulses and she did not dare ask edwin and their crewmates to make such a sacrifice for her. edwin's parents died for the resistance and it would be grossly unfair of constance to make him choose between a life of comfort at her side versus his parents' unfinished work. constance did not think she could bear leaving this life behind, either. there was still too much work to be done, too many lives to save and policies to change. was she saying that because she truly believed it or was it because she was wary of rejection? she did not know. it was not easy choosing between your own happiness and the work you have poured your heart and soul into. she wanted edwin more than anything but she was not sure if he felt the same and a small sliver of her heart was always wondering how close was she to losing the people she cared about. there were too many unknowns in this story. constance told herself she was content with how things were right now but was she really? it sometimes felt like forced herself to believe that because she had no other choice.

[vaell]

xxxＥＤＷＩＮ ＡＬＢＲＥＣＨＴ.

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxa rebel entertainer performing under the stage name floyd.
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indentneither the hushed hiss of rifle fire finding it's mark in a straw dummy nor the proceeding murmurs of excitement seemed to pose a distraction for either karelsa or edwin.
indentthough the wooden benches lining the outer circumference of the training room were certainly intended for those wearied from brushing up on their weaponry skills, no shotguns or pistols accompanied the pair of musicians occupying the corner of the room. instead several well preserved sheets of music were scattered down the length of which he or karelsa were not sitting. at their feet and tucked beneath the bench were two oblong violin cases, both of which were weathered from being transported back and forth between different conclave forts for performances. the notably newer case of the two belonged to karelsa, a gift edwin surprised her with for her fourteenth birthday just a few months ago. he'd been rather intent on putting away some caps he earned over the course of the last few months from the gigs they performed just to make sure he could get her a memorable present. bartered for in the variegated market place of arcadia, the case he bought her was crafted of plywood, boasting a black oxford exterior lined with burgundy velour on the inside. bearing some blemishes it may not be a pristine commodity purchased straight from the shelves of a new hollywood instrument retailer but it's previous owner had clearly been heedful in caring for it's condition throughout the years. the inner contents of the case were secured with a functioning turn lock that accompanied the central security flap, serving to protect the expandable music pocket and dual bow holders within. with karela's violin in her own possession right now, the case was otherwise empty and latched shut. edwin's own instrument remained undisturbed within it's receptacle for the time being. the young girl had rose from the bench, taking a step behind where edwin was sitting to peer over his shoulder and the sheet music held in his hands. historically considered one of the most renowned of its kind, pyotr ilyich tchaikovsky's violin concerto in d major was a beast of an undertaking. a number of famed composers who were notable in their time before the nukes dropped continued to persist even now and tchaikovsky happened to be one of those names. other major composers including bach, beethoven, bruch or mozart once contributed to the repertoire of the violin concerto themselves. despite being a concerto intended for solo violin and a powerful instrumental ensemble, he and karelsa have taken some artistic liberties with tchaikovsky's piece thus far, planning to replace the traditional full orchestral support with a smaller chamber ensemble just as they often would for their performances. from edwin's knowledge, conclave-based symphony orchestras typically back the violin concerto with a formidable player count, which was indeed the customary manner of playing the piece. the rebellion's current group of performers however amounted to nowhere near the same size as a largescale musical symphony orchestra many artists in the conclave might seek to enter to further their professional career. having to learn to play with the form of various different pieces has been crucial for their success at different military forts and the like. they were, after all, a skilled group of people whose talents were comparable to any other musician born of conclave descent, and they were not going to let such trivial discrepancies in staging hinder them. currently acting as a makeshift music stand for karelsa, edwin looked over his shoulder at the young girl. with her eyes focused on the sheet music in his hands, the girl raised her violin and stabilized the instrument at her jaw, trapping it between her shoulder and chin. karelsa's features were wound up with concentration and to some extent, frustration. the two of them have been occupying the training room for the better half of the day while other rebels came and went. making sense of music is no easy process but if he's learned anything in life, it's that one must be persistent in the process. edwin could sense her growing exasperation nonetheless. "go on," he encouraged her, albeit gently. with the bow of her violin hovering over the strings, a moment passed before she finally committed to the start of the piece. edwin watched her pull the bow along the strings parallel to the bridge, a lively sound emanating from the violin in response. with each movement of her arm a continuous string of noise began to sound out from end to end of the bow. he noted that the younger girl was careful to tilt the bow toward the scroll of the violin like he'd advised her to, focusing her tone in an effort to produce a cleaner sound. edwin's eyes shifted back to the sheet music as she continued to play. there was a specific part of the movement karelsa always seemed nervous about, tentative in her approach of the plethora of open strings. it appeared a habit of hers to hold herself back even when she were fully capable. edwin has been trying to work on that with her, especially right now as they trudge through their rehearsal of the violin concerto. a good musician shouldn't fear judgement but rather learn to grow from the mistakes they might make, though considering the tales he heard of the cutthroat performers karelsa spent a large chunk of her childhood around before she was fortunate enough to meet him and constance, it came to edwin as no surprise that she resented anything deviating from perfection. she was taught that even the smallest of mistakes meant losing your wage for a performance, that there were consequences associated with learning and experimentation. now she no longer need be fraught with worry or fear in the midst of her own companions but edwin understood that some things are harder to let go of than others, especially since she's been held to such unrealistic performance standards for so long. karelsa was a talented girl still coming into her own as a performer and as an artist and the journey has never been much of an effortless one for her. edwin knew she connected her identity to the arts and music and without it, she felt lost, like she didn't have a true place in the world otherwise. to some extent, edwin himself could sympathize with the feeling.
indentand there it is. he tried not to wince when he heard the sound of karelsa rushing through a sequence of full-length strokes, her digits simultaneously working along the fingerboard to try and keep up with her own movements. a wonky noise interrupted the otherwise light rhythm of the violin concerto when karelsa disgruntledly forfeit the series of notes, her bow sliding across the strings in defeat. she let out a huff of annoyance. "see!?" lowering the violin from her jaw, she plopped herself down on the bench beside edwin, facing the direction opposite he did. "i told you. is it even possible to mount the allegro vivacissimo? every single time it's the canzonetta that gets me all messed up." she grumbled, evidently disheartened. edwin only gave her a shrug. this was no simple piece of music to master to begin with. the two of them having been revisiting the violin concerto over the span of several months for that was what the piece demanded of them. tchaikovsky composed all of his pieces with a sophisticated and distinct sense of style that made the concerto especially intricate. he's one of many historical composers known for his emotional range, depicting grand symphonies all the way to light salon works. most slower or expressive forms of music tend to be difficult to get the hang of the first time around, and factoring in the stylistically challenging component of the piece itself, he felt as though they've made considerable leaps of progress recently. karelsa had no reason to be so hard on herself and that's exactly what he was hoping she'd come to understand. he watched the girl even though her gaze was diverted from his own. "i thought you were doing really well. you just have to push through after the fast movement. it's all about finding your pace in the slow, lyrical component right before jumping back into the sonata form. and you can do it, karelsa. you just stop yourself before you even get a chance to enter the allegro, but i know you're perfectly capable." she turned her attention away from her feet to glance over at him. he was right; she was hardly challenging the slower movement of the concerto before giving up entirely, as though to avoid potentially butchering the execution of the piece altogether. karelsa looked away. "yeah, well maybe tchaikovsky should've thought about logical pacing when he wrote the piece," she muttered jokingly, which in turn elicited a sound of amusement from edwin himself. he couldn't help but shift around on the bench in order to sit shoulder to shoulder with the younger girl. edwin playfully nudged her in the arm with his elbow, hoping to cheer her up a bit. "hey, come on. don't diss one of my favorite composers like that." karelsa couldn't resist the small smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. "you know, my dad once told me you really need to understand what he's trying to say in this piece if you want to make this work, this relationship between you and the notes and what the intent of the composer might be. you know the history behind this particular composition, don't you?" he asked her, searching her features curiously. the smile on her face was quick to turn into a sheepish one. "honestly, not well.." the girl admitted, hesitantly trailing off. a look of surprise came over edwin's face though it lacked any true judgement. he set the sheet music down on the wooden bench beside them before turning to karelsa. well, that just won't do. edwin has always believed in the notion that one should familiarize themself with the ins and outs of a piece before truly taking it on. whenever possible he liked to learn about the time period in which a piece was wrote and the context that fueled the inspiration for the very notes he would play. in a way, he thought it essential for all musicians to. it seemed like the sort of responsibility you had to take on, like it would be a sinful act to cast aside the true origins of the work only to go through the motions and play without a semblance of knowledge. what karelsa might just be missing could in fact be a disconnect from the violin concerto itself. after all, tchaikovsky was a fascinating man. he was known to be a pioneer of music during the romantic period, composing works which have evidently continued to stand the test of time. many of his most well-known concert and theatrical pieces still prevail in the current classical repertoire, ballets like swan lake or even his first piano concerto. the preservation, restoration and cataloging of musical history has been an ongoing process carried out in conclave libraries and archives, unlike in the waste where traditions of oral rehearsal, narration and manual inscribing have predominantly prevailed. edwin himself knew the history of the violin concerto partly from his father's teachings and from his own investigation into the composer's inspiration back when he first learned the piece. "well, where to start? you should know this piece was born out of melancholy and when you think about it, it does make sense. there's a sort of persistent woe in the undertones of what we take as piquant, light and harmonized melodies. let that sink in. after all, tchaikovsky was known for just that─ open-hearted harmonies, colorful and picturesque orchestration. i think all of his pieces speak from the heart to the heart but there's always something else simmering beneath the surface." edwin noted the emerging appearance of contemplation crossing her features. karelsa's eyebrows slightly drew together as though trying to silently connect what edwin was saying to the very notes she would read while playing. he continued on. "from what fragments we do know, he wrote the concerto at a swiss resort he'd settled down at, trying to recover from a state of misery after the downfall of his rather complex - yet catastrophic - marriage with antonina miliukova. at the time he was actually incredibly invested in a piece you're well familiarized with, the piano sonata in g major, but it became a lesser priority to him." karelsa was a pianist first and foremost, so of course the piano sonata only further fueled her growing interest. she was no longer staring at her feet but rather edwin, her growing vexation with herself beginning to subside when she let herself lean into his story.
indent"so instead of tending to the piano sonata, he became immersed in progressing along the concerto. and you know what? he finished the work in a month. and that's even taking into consideration the fact that the entire middle movement had a complete rewrite." karelsa murmured something in indistinct awe beneath her breath. it seemed just as evident to both of them that tchaikovsky plunged himself into his work with an admirable determination that fueled his work, quelling his sorrow and rekindling his dwindling inspiration. edwin lightly tapped the side of her violin's curved scroll. "and you know what? he was no violinist himself, so that's when he sought some advice from iosif kotek. in the end, he even dedicated the full score to kotek. interestingly enough kotek didn't hold much enthusiasm for the concerto, of which he found some parts to be impracticable. he ended up re-editing the solo portion i believe. from what i remember there's a whole bunch of speculation around that situation though." karelsa seemed to ponder edwin's words for a moment. the birth and furthermore the honoring of the violin concerto could certainly be enough to draw anyone's curiosity, musician or not. it's a story that beckons you to join in understanding, to try and place yourself in tchaikovsky's frame of mind while he was hammering out the piece in the span of that month. there is a certain urgency in the first and latter movement of the concerto that seems to reflect this very notion. though karelsa has kept her thoughts to herself, she did speak up after a moment passed. "how'd you get to know all of this? or i guess, how'd your dad?" she asked, curious. edwin didn't mind the question either. it was a fair inquiry considering that history - especially that of musical origin - is not often reflected upon by those who inhabit the waste, simply out of circumstance. not many people can dwell on the past when their present is brutal and oppressing, nor do many wastelanders get the opportunity to access the preserved documentations of history. it's not fair but it's the reality of the world the conclave forged for those who suffered beneath its unwavering grip. the privilege of seeing the scrolls of the past and even contemporary scholarly papers have always been reserved for the residents of the capital first and foremost, locked up behind the walls of their imposing universities or pretentious athenaeums. "well that's easy enough to answer; the conclave has access to a whole lot more than you and i." he winked at her before collecting the sheet music from the bench. his father held occupation in conclave society as a technician, a role he simultaneously pursued in the rebellion. the older man subjected music to something of a hobby though if he'd seen it through edwin was sure he would have been praised for his talent by those born of either conclave or wasteland descent. in truth though, there were many great things he was sure his father would have done if he hadn't been taken from this world so soon. bittersweet ruminations aside, it was nice to be able to share the stories his father once told him, to pass his knowledge along to other curious minds. edwin turned to karelsa with a lingering smile, turning the sheet music in his hand so she would be able read it. this time around she looked up to the challenge. "what do you say we try again one last time?" without protest, karelsa dutifully pushed herself up from the bench, seemingly determined to trudge out of her bruised motivation with what new knowledge she just obtained. edwin was glad to notice her renewed enthusiasm. he was confident in the girl's ability to bridge the relationship between the composer and his work. after all, edwin was sure that was the final link she needed to master the middle movement once and for all. learning about tchaikovsky certainly helped him understand the violin concerto better when he was younger at-least. raising her violin again, karelsa released a short breath as though to chase off her own nervousness. while he felt positive she would overcome the obstacle of her very own mind, he was already proud of her for mastering as much as the concerto as she has over these last few days. the young girl cast her eyes down at the sheet paper, drawing her bow along the strings of her violin to begin the first movement. edwin simply listened to her play and go through the motions. the vibrations from the string of the violin ran down the top and bottom plates and through the bridge, reverberating in the hollow body of the instrument to produce a tone rich and brilliant to the ear. karelsa was always efficient in moving through the first portion of the piece. she only grew unsure when she approached the allegro vivacissimo and had to take the leap between the transition from a fast pace to a methodical one. edwin's eyes flickered up from the paper as her fingers pressed down on the fingerboard in sync with her bowing. come on, don't rush into it karelsa. he edged forward on the bench in anticipation. the girl made a point of slowing down if only to avoid the previous few mistakes she'd been making in handling this sequence of the piece. that's good. he watched as karelsa pressed down firmly on the highest string, her bow following to produce the higher note. her finger then naturally came down to switch notes. edwin could feel himself growing tense from where he sat on the bench, eagerly watching her press forward to overcome each proceeding note. a look of concentration captured her features as she leapt from the down bows and the up bows to advance in the concerto.
indentkarelsa did not stop playing until she left the depths of the canzonetta and immersed herself in the allegro movement. the increasingly playful yet quickened tempo did not deter her this time. instead, she embraced the unknown.
indentwith a conclusive swipe of her bow, the second movement of the violin concerto came to an end. by now edwin's smile had grown into a grin. he couldn't help but get up from where he was sitting, leaving the sheet music behind to catch karelsa in a whirlwind of an embrace. "you did it, kid! what did i tell you?" he briefly lifted the younger girl off the ground in a small twirl before setting her back down, the sound of her contained laughter bouncing around the walls of the training room. "careful!" she chided lightheartedly, clutching her violin close to her body. the girl threw a shy glance over her shoulder to where earnest, nick and kason were practicing with their rifles. it wasn't exactly conventional for edwin and karelsa to be practicing the violin concerto on the outskirts of a training room but since they weren't disturbing anyone, there was no harm in it. at-least they'd managed to give the trio some meaningful background noise. edwin himself was more surprised that either nick or kason hadn't come over to pester them yet but maybe they knew they'd give an earful from karelsa. the thought certainly amused edwin. he reached out to give the girl a firm squeeze on the shoulder, ushering her to take a seat. "i think i get what you were saying earlier, you know." karelsa admitted, sitting down on the bench again. the girl reached down to pull her violin case out from where it was stowed beneath the bench. "i had to look at the piece differently because of what i knew, and so...it just seemed easier to grasp the transition between the first and middle half. does that even make sense?" he watched her unclasp the exterior of her case, revealing the faded maroon colored lining on the inside. karelsa carefully placed her violin within the hollowed out grooves at the base of the case before securing the neck of her instrument with an adjustable strap. after such an achievement, it was safe to say they were done practicing for the day. a small smile formed on edwin's lips as he watched her. "no, it does." he assured her. sometimes edwin couldn't help but see a bit of himself in karelsa. she was an adaptable person who flourished in environments where she could expand her knowledge. she had determination and self-discipline that seemed otherwise rare for someone as young as her in the musical industry. it was easy for him to recognize just how well she has blossomed into an intermediate player given her efficient handling of tchaikovsky's piece. concertos are often considered appropriate for exploring varying depths of emotion, new sounds and a plethora of different techniques that may be demanded of a developing musician. he watched the girl slide her bow into the upper lid of the case, latching it in place to ensure it would not move when she brought the top down. karelsa looked up at him as her fingers ran over the metal securements to lock them in place. "why don't we do this every time we rehearse a piece? like, talk it through completely from now on before even diving into it. we may not be able to answer all of our questions, but there's even some beauty in that, i think." as she spoke, he opened up his own violin case beneath the bench. edwin's hand searched for the music pocket so that he could carefully insert the violin concerto - as well as the other pieces they'd brought out to investigate earlier - securely back into the case itself. once the case was closed he leveled his gaze with her own. her remark had struck him as rather insightful. "sure we can. i'd love to, actually. at this rate you're going to be a master of all things tchaikovsky, bach and vivaldi by the time the arcadia lockdown eases up." he joked with her, shifting on the bench to watch nick and kason face the straw dummies positioned several paces before them. when karelsa finished putting her violin away she made sure to push the case beneath the bench once again, her gaze then following edwin's own. he noticed the girl slip a dainty circlet on one of her fingers, likely having stowed it away in her violin case so that it might not hinder her playing. he eyed it for a moment. in the candle light the seahorse-shaped ring glimmered jade and cobalt, striking him as rather familiar for some reason.
indentsimilarly, the sound of constance adler's voice was enough to draw his attention.
indentthough edwin was quick to turn his head when he first heard her, it seemed karelsa managed to beat him to the chase, always staying a few beats ahead of him. she had already perked up at the sight of constance, which wasn't an unusual occurrence for the younger girl. as most of their crew knows, karelsa tends to keep to herself unless otherwise engaged with. edwin, constance, malacai and hansel were among the few names of those whom she openly sought company from, though that's not to say she could successfully evade the whims of the other more unruly members of their bunch. crossing his arms, edwin watched them approach the bench he and karelsa were sitting at. constance's comment was certainly enough to elicit a huff of amusement from edwin. with how quiet things have been around here lately he'd almost wished they nominated danny to take on the responsibility of looking after the horses and their other critters earlier on. "that might just be the worst form of punishment imaginable," he noted jokingly, their brief exchange earning a giggle from karelsa. the man shifted over on the wooden bench a little bit so that constance could take their seat beside him, karelsa following suit to give them some space. edwin offered constance a smile."i hope we can count on you to keep our lazing around a secret then? i'm sure karelsa can agree with me when i say i would like to keep my sanity in tact for as long as i can. being stuck listening to danny all day in the company of a bunch of horses staring us down sounds like the perfect way to finally lose it." although constance had just claimed her spot beside him, in a mere matter of seconds he could feel the unexpected weight of her head beginning to settle on his lap as she shifted to lay on her back. looking down upon her visage all of a sudden, edwin's eyes flickered across her face. he suddenly found it rather difficult to establish eye contact with her as she began to speak. true, edwin was used to constance being a prominent presence in his own personal space but he couldn't help but feel somewhat caught off guard. not that he minded, though. either way the man was quick to grow aware of his own comportment. he didn't want to move let alone even shift the tiniest bit in case it might disturb her. there's always been something about constance's presence both calming and soothing to him. she radiated such an unapologetic affability and took it with her everywhere she went, so much so that it was always a disappointing affair whenever she left a room. in the candle light enveloping the training room he couldn't help but notice how constance's hair appeared even more lustrous than usual, the strands of her ash blonde locks spilling over his lap like a halo framing her features. it looks so soft. a part of him was tempted to reach a hand out if only to feel a strand fall between his fingers. the man had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands glued to where they were at his sides, lest he forget himself altogether. next to edwin, karelsa was leaning toward him and constance, fiddling with the ring on her finger. having grown distracted, caught in the midst of his own silent appreciation of her beauty, constance's words - as surprising as they were to him - managed to force him back to reality, if only for a moment. the inauguration dinner. right. if constance hadn't informed them, he likely wouldn't have even realized the event was taking place until after the capital's celebrations had already concluded. trace hints of disgust began to encroach on his features, erasing the softness that once lingered there. likewise, the younger girl beside him seemed none too impressed herself. any talk of extravagances or festivities hosted by the government among the sea of their most loyal supporters lauding them could always manage to strike a sour note in anyone whose lived their life outside the lofty confines of the capital city. it was bizarre to think of any sort of celebration transpiring right now, let alone an event as grand as the president's inauguration dinner. the residents of arcadia and the nearby settlements and towns were being sentenced to a rigorous period of lockdown issued by the conclave's military, and the vehemence by which the government sought to find the two suspects who have allegedly come into possession of the tape appeared to be rather fierce. even then, it wasn't surprising that the government would choose to cast a blind eye to what was going on in the wasteland so that they and their citizens could partake in otherwise trivial carousing. when constance spoke of a stabbing in mountmend though, karelsa's mouth opened in a quiet gasp of surprise. "really?" her eyes shifted between the two entertainers as though to gain further clarity over the situation. when none came she looked down at her hands after a moment, a sort of dejection underlying her voice as she trailed off. "that's awful..." in a form of silent reassurance, edwin reached up to place a hand on to the girl's shoulder though his eyes remained on constance. a sigh escaped his lips.
indent"i know. and constance is right; the lockdown in arcadia is just the start. things were pretty rough even before the conclave buckled down on the city. with how high the tensions have been lately this might just be the final shove the people needed to spur their animosity toward the conclave, to let out a whole other bout of pandemonium. it would be perfect for us in any other circumstance. it's only a shame that missing tape has the conclave all high-strung right now. their vigilance doesn't much benefit our own operations." he understood where constance was coming from though. the recruitment campaigns targeted toward the wasteland population were intended to boost rates of enrollment into the army, serving as yet another tactic to further the reach of their militarism and ultimately subdue the wasteland people. the conclave worked hard to appeal to the inhabitants of the waste in such a manner that it was impossible for the average person to avoid. walking the streets to see walls or poles plastered with different posters of military propaganda, it's no surprise that a lot of people will turn to the army for their livelihood, perhaps even viewing enrollment as a way to become someone else in this world. it doesn't help that the government loudly offers certain incentives, benefits or opportunities for wastelanders interested in entering the military or their workforce. over the last few years programs have been installed by the government to grant wastelander enrollees economic leverages and an integration into conclave economy, overseen by financial banking corporations and consortiums rooted in the capital. edwin knew better than to think the conclave's motivation for granting any individual wastelander such a privilege came from an altruistic place of intent though. unlike that of the waste, conclave society has grown to possess a highly developed, industrialized and integrated economy. innovation and advancement in the world of finance and economic research have opened the door for the standard of living among conclave consumers, with firms expanding to take advantage of economies of scale. through shifting production to the most competitive areas of the economy in order to raise productivity of their citizens the government has all but achieved the same robustness that marked the country's economic state before the nukes dropped. the common currency circulating in the conclave - the dollar bill - is nowhere to be seen in practical use beyond the walls of their cities though. the economic situation in the wasteland is entirely removed from that of the conclave's own, and he could wager that hasn't always been to the government's likes. the persistence of bottle cap currency amongst wastelanders prevents the government from successfully forecasting or predicting market trends like they traditionally might, and on top of that the sheer number of unknowns involved pose a liability to the conclave's operations. how can they accurately assess what might be transpiring in wastelander markets if they have no proper foothold? how could there ever be any certainty of what transactions are being made by individuals, let alone investigations into the ways production, consumption, and exchange might differ from their own independent economy. after all the wasteland functions based on local markets, merchants and vendors operating within different spaces and there is no one strategy to track the economic activity of the common wastelander. if there was a way for the conclave to begin assimilating the wasteland's economic circumstances then edwin had no doubt they would strike at the first opportunity, and that's just what all their propaganda was, another attempt to harness control over what they deemed the lawlessness of the waste. either way it seemed safe to say the conclave's insidious desire to transform and take control of wasteland affairs - like seeking to deploy a new economy over wasteland society - was just the start of something more sinister. and as unfortunate as it is, the divide between those even merely associated with the conclave and the common wastelander have grown to be a starker line over the last few years. like constance, edwin found it hard to pass judgement on someone of non-conclave origin entering the army given the ways in which the government has made it their mission to make the life of a soldier seem a noble and outstanding profession for conclave citizens and wastelanders alike. people are constantly formed by their circumstances and sometimes there's no one way to look at a situation and therefore no clear cut answer to guide your feelings.
indentedwin noticed the beginnings of a small yet evidently forced smile forming on constance's lips. as though already anticipating what she might say, he tried not to interrupt her right then and there when she all but apologized for interrupting their previous conversation. they truly had no reason to felt bad. edwin liked hearing what constance had to say, even if she thought herself to be rambling. in fact he was quite certain that he could sit here all day just listening to her talk, watching the way her lips curved about every syllable. she was one of the most insightful people he has ever had the pleasure to meet in his life, and every time she offered her thoughts out loud to world he couldn't help but feel incredibly honored to know someone as thoughtful and bright as her. the rebellion is comprised of a number of people who share similar ideals but constance truly understood what it meant to be both altruistic yet rightfully opiniated. like edwin they valued compassion, kindness and hospitality but they weren't the type of person to abandon their opinions in the face of conflict. "oh come on," he chuckled, unable to resist tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear this time around. his hand dared to momentarily linger before falling away. "unfortunately for you, no one could ever hope to beat danny's ramblings. i think he must have set a world-record in that department by now. do you remember that one time he told us that story about one of his most infamous acts of bravery and selflessness, the one that had something to do with those thieving amouxes terrorizing that local family? god, that sounded so absurd yet somehow utterly believable. how the hell does he do that?" karelsa tried to keep from laughing. she'd almost certainly heard that one before and knew what edwin was getting at. the man chuckled, though moved on to address the latter half of constance's question with a small half-shrug. "oh, you know us though. we've been busy practicing our hand at axe-throwing, perfecting our shotgun aim and sending some arrows flying straight into the bullseye of these dummies. real wasteland warriors, not like danny. you'd be surprised. i think we could probably start setting our sights on some of those conclave generals with their fancy plasma swords real soon." he joked, briefly glancing across the training room to see what the others were up to. they still seemed rather preoccupied. earnest appeared to be giving nick and kason some pointers, momentarily taking one of their rifles to demonstrate what he deemed proper form. edwin looked back down upon constance's face with a smile. "no, but in all seriousness we've been working on a piece together. karelsa's been absolutely running through tchaikovsky's violin concerto like it's nothing these last few days." the young girl couldn't keep the harmless glint of pride from her features as edwin spoke of her progress, a wide smile deepening the dimples in her cheeks. she leaned toward him, her shoulder brushing against his as she turned her attention to constance. karela's voice was swimming with excitement. "you gotta hear me play the piece sometime! you know, edwin was telling me all about tchaikovsky. kind of a troubled guy but at-least the violin concerto came out of it, i suppose. have you ever heard the story before? actually, let me guess─ i'm sure you and edwin have already analyzed his life fifty times over. oh my god. i can't believe i'm the only one who had no idea about anything. i think you guys need to tell me the biography of every relevant musician to date, ever! i want to know everything, like...all of it!" karelsa hardly gave either constance or edwin a chance to answer any of her preceding questions, for the words were running out of her mouth faster than they could even process what she was saying. it was amusing to see the otherwise reserved girl come out of her shell whenever she happened to be in their company. "alright, alright, slow down there miss historian," he teased. "i guess we'll have to debate the lives of these storied musicians together sometime, just us three."
indentedwin liked the idea of spending more time with the two of them, though if he knew any better discussing the tales of the old great composers who once walked the earth felt like the perfect excuse for him to see more of constance than anything else. he just couldn't help it, wanting to be around her. there was something about constance that made other people feel drawn to them, though that came as no surprise given how they are such a naturally open and welcoming person to begin with. just like the gravitational pull a planet might exert to draw objects towards its center, edwin was often caught up in her force of gravity more often than not these days. for how long they've known each other and spent their time as colleagues working toward a greater cause, it seemed selfish of him to want anything more, let alone ask for anything further than what they already had. the way he felt about constance was certainly more complicated than just that, though. his hesitancy went beyond just a fear of jeopardizing their friendship with declarations of love and rather stemmed from a haunting place riddled of both anguish and grief. edwin held himself back more than he thought he did. a part of him was scared to ever come close enough to a relationship bounded by intimacy for he would be absolutely devastated should said person ever be taken from him. experiencing the loss of his parents at such a young age has had a longstanding impact on his desire for security, be it through his relationships or in his very own sense of self. it was a horrifying thought to ever have to face the loss of someone he cared so deeply about again, so much so that he actively avoided trying to forge any sort of those meaningful intimate relationships people find so much joy in. being a part of the rebellion is a great honor but their lives come with unpredictability and even more uncertainty for what future may hold. edwin did not think he could bear to hold constance if he were only to lose her one day. he detested himself for being so haunted by his own past experiences but having her and losing her truly was a real fear of his. he figured that it was best to keep his feelings at bay for both of their interests as much as it pained his very soul. he cherished his friendship with constance, prized it like none other. his tender feelings towards her have been tucked away carefully in the depths of his heart, persistent and unwilling to subside, and that was where they would continue to remain in burning secret. he harbored his devotion to constance openly though, even if he couldn't bring himself to be so bold as to expose his innermost feelings to the whole world. edwin's gaze turned away from the central area of the training room so that he could look in to her soft hazel eyes where she lay beneath him. truthfully, the selfish part of him didn't want her to move from his lap just yet. "anyway, enough about us. you ought to tell us about your day so far. you said one of the patients in the field hospital told you about the inauguration dinner? how are things holding up out there? i hope there hasn't been anything too serious to tend to. there's been so much unnecessary violence, people getting caught up in the whirlwind of chaos these last few days following the lockdown. i'm just glad we can help out somehow." edwin studied her features for a moment. he admired constance and their involvement in aiding those seeking medical attention for it posed no easy to task to look upon the faces of people wrongfully injured or hurt due to the situation unfolding around them. as much as he would have liked to tag along with constance throughout the day, edwin himself has tried to steer clear of the field hospital in general. the plethora of cots crammed together beneath the hoods of white canopies reminded him of memories he'd much rather not recall at all. the often despairing and dismal atmosphere clinging to medical tents and those struggling for their lives within have become hard for edwin to face let alone stomach. he didn't much care if he seemed avoidant when it came to the topic either. the first time he wound up in one of those makeshift rebel field hospitals as a boy left a bitter enough taste on his tongue. edwin wasn't unfortunate enough to have been a suffering patient but he'd seen life dwindle right in front of his eyes, if there had ever been any to begin with considering what grave injuries his parents once sustained. no one can hide from bloodshed or grief by covering their hands over their eyes but if he could avoid putting himself in any uncomfortable situations then he wasn't going to pass on that opportunity. it's partially why he didn't volunteer alongside constance to help assist the patients, nor would he have been much thrilled if maven herself had selected him for the task. additionally, he simply didn't have enough experience in the medical field to begin with so he wasn't the most useful candidate in that regard. either way edwin felt far more content helping around in the basement where he could, or spending his time working on refining some pieces with karelsa just like he did today. he did wonder how they were faring in terms of medical supplies, though. it seemed hard enough for them to keep the outpost running on a regular basis under the difficult circumstances the lockdown on arcadia brought about. curious, edwin couldn't help but inquire given that constance likely had a good understanding of what their current outlook was. "it hasn't been hard to keep up with treating people, has it? how are the supplies looking lately?"