Standing alone on a balcony, Nickolas Lancaster casts a gaze of cool contempt on the scene below him. The Grande Bell’s atrium hall is filled with the self-proclaimed, “powerful people” of Teyathus. The merchants, politicians, magicians, and their ilk stand about in clusters as they drink their wine, consume their delicacies, and speak of nothing at all. The hall itself is the very bastion of excess and opulence. The fine paintings on the wall, the massive star chandelier in the atrium’s center, and of course the literal golden fountain below it, all contribute to the atmosphere of self-importance.
Of course, Mr. Lancaster is the very opposite of self-important. He is the definition of saintly and giving. Why, just last week he’d donated hundreds of thousands of Gil to pay scholarships at the Tinkerer’s college in Highbridge! And, of course, if any of those hard working men and women decided upon the completion of their schooling to come work at one of his factories… well, he would consider it a turn for a turn.
With so much buzz about this year’s gathering, the talk of grave decisions to be made, and deals that could change the course of nation states, and some of the more… outlandish claims...the reality is considerably less interesting. A room full of ‘leaders’ from across the world, all gathered to rub their wealth in one-another’s faces. Lancaster scoffs to himself, feeling superior.
He thinks to himself ‘it may be time for a little fun…’ as he absentmindedly fingers the fine red band on his right ring finger. "Bloody Gold" as it was colloquially known, the ring is also an expedient bit of Alchemy. It has been synthesized to help gently influence others to the wearer’s will.
With his prized ring, Lancaster has been able to close nearly impossible deals, not to mention win the affection of beautiful women many years his junior. It isn’t exactly underhanded; the ring only works with the underlying impulses of his targets, merely coaxing their unconscious wants to the surface. It has been Lancaster’s experience that most people, rich or poor, wish to be dominated.
“Mr Lancaster?” a voice from the right stirs him from his musings. Turning he is elated, albeit somewhat taken aback, by the sight of the speaker. She is slender and beautiful, with coffee colored skin and bright gold eyes. She is garbed all in white. Her laced dress stops at mid thigh, exposing her shapely legs which are then covered (and accentuated) once more by stockings that begin just above her knee and continue down to a fetching pair of glass slippers. Her hair is unorthodox yet striking. Her head has been shaved close on the sides, leaving her with a mohawk of short raven curls and straight bangs. Most noticeably, she sports a solitary, silver piercing at the bridge of her nose.
“Mr Lancaster?” She tries again, and he is shaken from his stupor. “My apologies, my dear. I was quite literally stunned by your beauty,” he recites with a roguish grin. “I can see that. You were checking me out pretty hard; you’re like a pervy uncle” she replies and Lancaster nearly sputters. “I-” he begins, but stops short as the girl gives him a sly smile that implies she may just be into that sort of thing.
“I- didn’t get your name.” He says instead. “You can call me… Aphrodite, everyone else does,” she replies with a wink. Lancaster smiles knowingly. “Ah, one of the Greater Ada. The Goddess of beauty… and love. I see you know your esoteric studies.” Aphrodite’s gaze is searching and curious, but reveals nothing. “Mr. Lancaster-” she begins, but he interjects with “Call me Nickolas.” Aphrodite obliges, “Nickolas, would you like to come to my suite? I would love to interview you.”
………………………………………………………………………………………
Ten minutes later, Nickolas Lancaster is seated in a chair across from Aphrodite, in the sitting room of her top-tier suite. Aphrodite, as he has come to learn, is here as a representative of her father’s company in Dhas Kali. He had mentally guessed at her nationality earlier. With her complexion she could have easily been from anywhere on the southern continent, but her slurred accent is distinctly Khalish. “So…” she says, pausing to take a sip of wine from the goblet on the crystal coffee table between them, “shall we get started then?”
“Started?” Asks Lancaster. “With the Interview of course!” She exclaims enthusiastically. “I want to know your secret!” Lancaster holds his own goblet in his right hand, looking in his three piece suit to be the very picture of a stately captain of industry. “My secret?” He inquires in a voice tinged with uncertainty. “You just seem to be doing really well. Your company is one of the leading manufacturing plants in Berusa. You buy shares and property from other entities for almost nothing and reinvest them for literal fortunes.” Aphrodite speaks as if reciting an intriguing riddle.
“My dear, it is merely that people naturally want to see their betters succeed, because they know that my success is their success.” His reply is noncommittal, but he is feeling more and more uneasy by the moment. The young woman’s questions are too poignant, and it’s apparent she has done her research on him. A number of possibilities cycle through Lancaster’s mind, each more unpleasant the last. 'Perhaps a bitter rival, a sore loser as it were, has sent her to incriminate me-'
“Don’t worry Nickolas. None of your enemies sent me to get dirt on you.” Aphrodite says with a soft laugh. “Relax. Drink your wine. We are just getting to know one another.” Lancaster mentally curses himself for being so easy to read; he attempts a swift recovery, putting on a relaxed front. “It’s merely that, when you are powerful… people sometimes wish ill on you.” Aphrodite nods, “And these people differ from those that wish to see their ‘betters’ succeed.” She’s toying with him!
“You know, my Dear… when you invited me back to your suite, this isn’t what I had in mind.” Another soft laugh, “I know…” she says, “you’re here to fuck.” As if to accentuate her point, she leans back in her chair with her legs parted, and slowly places her left foot on the coffee table. Her visage is intentionally playful, but reveals nothing beyond that. “Well- I- yes. That is what I thought was going to happen.” He admits with a polite cough.
“Iiiii dunno...” she shifts slowly, provocatively, in her seat. “I don’t know if I feel like it… maybe you could convince me. I bet you can be really persuasive.” Her words are pointed, but at this stage Lancaster is no longer thinking with the brain in his skull. Instinctively, he touches the ring and focuses his will on the young woman before him. He pictures her beautiful face contorted in pleasure- or at least reaction- her form exposed. He visualizes her shapely posterior as he’d observed walking behind her, but sans the obscuring white garment. It may even be nice to…
The air buzzes with an unseen, subtle energy. Lancaster suddenly finds Aphrodite's gaze intently upon him, but there is something off. A wicked smile plays upon her full lips, and her eyes carry a faint iridescence. “So that is the kind of man you are…” Despite her playful tone, there is an underlying energy of contempt so direct that he almost leans back in his seat.
The moment is broken by a knock at the door. “Ah, Nickolas, please be a dear and get that for me?” Lancaster woodenly complies. His companion’s manor is carefree and amicable, it’s as if the intense moment never transpired. Her words, and the intensity of her gaze almost made him think... 'No, it must be the wine. There’s no way she could have known...' He opens the door to find a young man and woman standing in the hall; they are a striking pair indeed.
The woman is short and athletically built, with cedar toned skin. She’s dressed in a black blouse with a lightly armored under-the-bust corset, and black shorts that stop at her upper thigh. Her gloves extend midway up her forearm and match her black boots with their excess of straps and buckles. Her hair is long and diverges in the middle, with half being black and the other half lavender. She has a silver stud pierced in the dimple of each cheek, and a hoop in her left nostril. Her brown eyes are framed by rectangular, wire-framed glasses.
The young man is tall and strongly built with a youthful face and dark brown skin. He wears a long, black, jacket with a hood lined in white fur. The garment has a series of black clasps, straps, and buckles and is worn shut. The youth’s form fitting trousers and boots are also dark in color. Like his companion, his face is adorned with piercings-- a silver hoop in each nostril and a stud below his left eye. His eyes are another matter entirely. They are grey, yet so faint that they appear almost white.
“Can I help you?” Asks Lancaster, more off-balanced than annoyed at this point. “Yes, we’re here to see the Love Goddess.” The young man says with a wink. “Aphrodite-” he elaborates when Lancaster just stares at him. “I know who you’re talking about. Who are-” but Aphrodite calls from inside “Come in, lovelies!” and the newcomers move past him.
“Although, you know, the Ada Sith aren’t actually Gods… they’re more akin to Higher Fae,” the dark skinned youth says in passing to no one in particular. “I’m so glad you’re both here! Now you get to meet my new friend! This is Nickolas Lancaster- of Lancaster foundries!” Aphrodite says excitedly.
“A… pleasure.” the woman says in a tone that suggests that it’s anything but. The young man offers a good natured grin. “Sit, you two, sit!” Aphrodite makes a big fuss about pulling the remaining chair up for the woman with the dimple piercings to sit in. She then instructs her other friend to take her chair, nearly pushing him into it. “Hey, I don’t wanna take your- oh okay.” His protests are cut short as she plops unceremoniously onto his lap. Lancaster shuffles in faint annoyance as the man in Aphrodite’s chair catches his eye.
Aphrodite spazzes again, “I’m so rude! Where are my manners? This is Anemone.” She indicates the woman sitting to her right, who offers another tight-lipped smile. “And thiiis- Is Percival!” she reaches back to place a familiar hand on the side of his face. “Percival Grimm of course.” Lancaster Blinks- 'Percival Grimm…' Stories, news bulletins, and rumors all begin to circulate in his mind. Clashes with AUF personnel, piracy, airship battles- all revolving around the infamous “Crystal Pirates” and their captain…
“Percival Grimm.” Lancaster replies, carefully pushing down the outrage welling up inside. “That Percival?” The Pirate’s white/grey eyes meet his own. “The very same.” He replies softly. “To what do I owe this honor?” He asks carefully. Instead of answering the question, Percival turns his attention to the girl in his lap. “So…. what did we miss?” Aphrodite in turn, fixes Lancaster with a frank stare. “Nickolas here just tried to mind bend me with his sketchy magick ring.”
Lancaster sputters incoherently, and she continues speaking. “I guess he never learned that paltry tricks like that don’t work on a real Witch.” Percival looks at Lancaster quizzically. “Is that true? Naughty boy…” he delivers the line with mock flamboyance, however the vibe of the room is suddenly deadly serious. Despite their carefree personas, the three of them are pirates- murderers even- and he’d just tried to-
“Listen- I can explain.” He begins. “I don’t think you can.” Replies Percival, all lightness is gone from his voice. “What do you want?! H-how are you all even in here?” Lancaster begins to spiral. “Only people with the utmost clearance can even enter the building tonight!” He is suddenly aware that Anemone is standing beside him, he never even saw her move. “We’re celebrities- duh. Now calm down and smell this rag.” Faster than he can react, his nose and mouth are covered by a cloth and soon everything goes black.
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