Heritage Hotel, Liberty-City
The stereotypical Allanean party is a noisy affair, with scantily-clad and unclad couples cavorting on ragged couches even as other couples hop about the sounds of music loud enough to kill birds in mid-air – said air being also thick with marijuana fumes and milgrade 'gay spray'. But of course, stereotypes are also very often wrong.
In the case of this particular party, the stereotype is perfectly detached from reality. Soft music is playing on the 'event floor' of Heritage Hotel, and young couples slide by in elegant waltzes. Surely, the clothing is... 'untraditional' to say the least. A half-orc in a catsuit moves by, grey fake ears moving on his head as he presses a lady with black make-up and black clothing (and the usual cut marks on her forearms) closer to his heart, and another couple, wearing something called 'tee-oh-ess uniforms' swirls through the hall. And yet, compared to stereotypical Allanean events, this is relatively tame.
Near the wall, some people can be recognized as important. As a matter of fact… 'the Gang' is here – Alexander Kazansky and his close companions. He is standing there without his faceplate – it seems that he is for some reason no longer concerned about his 'curse'.
"No, I've gotten over her. I think."
"Right. You just got someone to cast some powerful spell or something, some drow magician or the like, and they got you rid of the Curse."
"Look, why do you think I got rid of all the stuff I had, the pictures of her and the like?"
"Okay, Alex. I do think the boy doth protest too much."
"Yadda-yadda-yadda. Anyway. Who are the people you wanted me to meet, Kevin?"
The President turns away from the half-elven lady he is talking to and begins talking to Kevin Nivensky. "I thought you told me you don't have the industrial capacity free for two coreships."
"That's right. I was about to introduce you to someone who can build you that second coreship."
"…uh? There's a company in Allanea with more shipyard capacity than you?"
"I would say they have more shipyard capacity then anybody."
On the roof of the hotel
The gravcar put down quietly, with only a light clank as it touched the roof. It was about medium in size (by Allanean standards. People in other nations would be mindboggled at how big it was). As it touched down, the guards on the roof of the hotel saluted immediately, as if they were meeting some very important person.
Gilthanas nös Feanor was the first to exit the vehicle. He nodded thanks to the hotel flunky that rushed to open the car door before him. He was perhaps a distant relative of the elven queen, but he knew quite well that Allaneans would award honors to any member of the Feanor heritage that visited Allanea.
That merely makes them smart savages. They are still savages, regardless.
Second out of the vehicle is Liennale, Gilthanas' wife. She paces through the guard escort gracefully, proud like you would expect the wife of a Feanor Holdings executive to be when she sets foot upon Allanean soil.
The guards are already about to escort the couple downstairs when a third passenger exits the vehicle.
She is very young in elf-years, thin and maybe a few inches too short for a Noldo. Her long dress is somewhat too modest for an Allanean party, but it still underlines her slender shape, a simple design in flowing blue. She does not appear interested in the event at all – and it seems that her parents look threatening enough to keep everybody else in the room from expressing interest in her.
She sits down near the edge of the hall, opens her hardcopy of Patterns of social relations in Late First-Epoch, and sets down to read it.
* * *
A few yards away, Victoria raises an eyebrow. "Is it me or it's a Noldo wearing glasses? I thought they had perfect eyesight."
Nivensky shrugs. "There's seven billion of them. Someone must be wearing glasses. Even though I guess they can correct vision problems for a dime at your local store or something."
"Yeah, that just makes it more weird. Why would you wear glasses if you're an elf?"
"Wanna go and ask her?"
"No. I have better things to do in my life. Like go hit on that tourist boy. Say, don't you care about that contract of yours at all?"
"No. I'm pretty sure Feanor Holdings will get it. Look, their executive is showing Alex the papers even now."
"Yes, but…"
"What 'but'?"
"Look at Alex there. He's not even reading the goddamn papers."
* * *
"Yes, surely. A ten-trillion payment over the next twenty years as you construct the USS… well, I don't know what to name it. We'll name it later, just call it Project Thule for now. Or something. Project Tula. Yeah. That's the ticket."
Oh Jesus, who is she? She's… my God, she actually looks much better than…
"Yes, yes, wait a second, let me fish for my pen here…"
"Why are you blushing, Mr. President? Planning to make off with the battleship?"
"Yes, certainly, sir. It was just my plan to steal an eleven-kilometer monster ship from a company personally owned by the Lord-Protector of All Elvenkind."
Gilthanas chuckles, and looks the Allanean President in the eyes, trying to track what he's looking at. Right now, Kazansky is for some reason eyeing the Secretary of State's figure.
"Oh. That's a good reason to blush, Mr. Kazansky."
"I deny everything, Sir. Absolutely everything."
Now Gilthanas is even more assured. "It's a lovely lady, your… Foreign Minister. No shame in it."
"It's the Secretary of State. And she… prefers metal to flesh, I think. Living metal, but metal nonetheless."
Now, Gilthanas is even more certain that Kazansky simply wants to have an affair with Sheshet, and yet is for some reason frustrated in that. He is of course too polite to openly inquire – and is even more assured Kazansky is a barbarian.
As future events will discover, he is horribly wrong.
OOC: Use of characters qualified with Menelmacari player. Thread is closed for myself only, and will be dedicated to a research RP+character developement.
