Her arrival had come to the port city on the eve of the night’s festivities. Hours to spare, little reason to believe that as the patrons and distinguished guests gathered that she would have been missing. A crying shame to those whom anticipated her, much of the gossip and intrigue that seemed to spread from Crocus having reached a near tipping point to those in attendance. Alas, though her appearance was missed as the first drinks were poured and the pleasantries were exchanged, the night went about as one would have expected with such a group.
Politicians, nobility, those of great fortune or noteworthy valor, to maneuver through their circle was to have repeated found themselves burdened by these such events. Whilst an exciting moment at first, quickly it tends to become trite. Dull, even. Especially for those who found such gatherings of grandeur little more than luxurious prostitution, if such a callous term could sufficiently call it as such. Certainly, she had come to find the term appropriate, though a necessary evil – if not a self-wrought plight – also came to mind to describe it.
Astrid certainly looked at the event already underway as such a burden. Though it had managed to steal her away from some much overdue rest and relaxation within her home of Oak Town, it hardly stood as the potential high point to this trip. Her attendance here was nothing more than a chance for the many present to try to garner favor; her success of having become one of the Reigning Senators within the Fiore Senate having sent waves throughout the nation. With it came a level of influence that had been yet to be realized, a delicate flower now having been planted within a garden of power.
No doubt most whom were waiting in anticipation of her hoped to have some hand in deciding how that flower would sprout.
It was perhaps fitting then, that her own arrival was simply out of showing face, of putting a name to the political juggernaut that now stood before them. The very same figure whom many privately had come to revile and condemn, if not for her policies than for her known friendship with Alisa Vollan, news of the mutual support between the two – even from an early point in Astrid’s career – having been a source of controversy within Hargeon. Though it had since resided from the public tongue, Astrid found it reasonable enough to believe that the Blue Pegasus Guild Leader would not be in attendance.
Though unfortunate, it was perhaps for the best. All things considered, discussion of the Blood Pact that swore both of them to one another was hardly a discussion that suited such an event. And certainly if history were any indication, it would only stand to create a storm of controversy that would utterly consume the nation.
No, tonight would be a simple evening. Some drinks, some uninspired discussions with people whom she had zero interest in entertaining. And of course, the tried and true delight that was the seducing of wealthy, no doubt beautiful women, at least one of whom would be find themselves securing the golden ticket and finding themselves sharing a bed before the night ceased. It was a game, of sorts, but one that she often found to be the only solace that came from these types of events.
In a way, it was a race. It was those who sought her alliance; hoping to do just enough to perhaps cause her to give them a second look, the briefest of attention. And then there was Astrid herself, pursuing carnal pleasures and looking to see that the most beautiful woman in the room would be coming home with her, husband or significant other be damned. And as the doors opened and she stepped through, adorned in the magnificent silken garments, it took only the briefest turning of the head to see that she was already a lap ahead of everyone else.
Barely a few steps forward into the main audience did she find herself besieged on all sides, some people fortunate to be already in path whilst others nearly tripped over themselves in their haste. Neither were received any better or worse than the others, simply ignored all the same. Perhaps it had been a mistake to deliberately arrive later as it seemed that for some the wine was proving to be too much for them. To one of the servants tending to the guests was a motioning of a finger towards her, to which drew the greatest irony, that the man of lowest standing found himself the object of envy to those whom had so much more.
Two sterling glasses housing a richly-colored, bubbly wine, the faint aroma of oak remaining trapped just beneath the glass rim. One of them for the immediate now, the liquid disappearing in a single, hearty sip, whilst the other no doubt would share its fate in an undoubtedly short time soon.
But before that could happen, something would catch her attention. Something different. Something unique to these sorts of events; a far cry from the boisterous self-importance that seemed to leave a suffocating feeling throughout the soiree. If anything, if it were the complete opposite, a verbal castration of an almost cartoonish figure, no less delivered by a figure to whom Astrid had to reason was perhaps barely of age to be in attendance of such an event.
It was not something that she had anticipated, but certainly not something that she took much issue towards.
In fact, it seemed to be rather entertaining at the very least. While not likely, she couldn’t help but hope that whatever it was that prompted such a scene to play out would come again before the night’s end. It would be a welcome change and one that make this a far more memorable event.
A handwave of dismissal was enough for those that still crowded her to disperse, those that did not immediately go finding themselves pulled by those that accepted her hint sooner. Curious of the sight that had been before her, a faint smile happened to dawn upon her lips as her gaze briefly shifted to the wine glass within her hand. But then she paused, like almost everyone in the vicinity as the red wine poured down like a waterfall onto the ground, splashing everything in sight, a pool forming at the feet of the woman, splashes shooting up in all directions, most stepping back out of panic and fear for what the wine may have done to their expensive gowns and suits. But not the pink-haired one in white whose antics had earned her the interest of Astrid, if even just as an excuse to not deal with the leeches around her.
Once it was clear that her own outfit was not presently at risk, she continued forward with a hand extended outwards, wine glass in hand as she presented it to the woman. Her eyes focused upon her face, the subtle examination of her figure in entirety before settling upon the olive branch, or olive glass more appropriately described as. In the same moment, there came the stiletto heel that cut through the small puddle of wine that lay beneath both their feet, the force sending the lightest of streams out and upwards, to the exasperated gasps of those too close to avoid the stain to come.
“Quite a presentation. If nothing else, one can at least appreciate that you have some truly refined taste. I don’t even need to taste this to know that this is far from Hargeon’s best,” she remarked, another kick soaring through the wine, this time not out of mockery but of irritation. “You would figure in a city like this that that quality wine would never be an issue. And yet… Certainly nobody would hold such actions against you, now would they?” Her words were comforting to the woman, yet cold with the implication apparent in her speech, her eyes like daggers as they cut through the crowd of onlookers whom were as much torn between anger for the pink-haired maiden and shock at Astrid’s presence.
Some backed away, others sighed and moved on, while a few lingered on, all of them having sufficiently received the message.
“Might I suggest that you give this a try? It’s a favorite of mine actually. Joyan label, if you can believe that. Sweeter than maybe to some peoples’ liking, but it has a great body, has that exotic allure, and has a way of simply making you want more. But, don’t just take my word for it.” Her hand raised just slightly, the glass swaying a few degrees in any given direction, the wine within lightly splashing about to stimulate the aroma and keep it from becoming flat. Her showmanship aside, the invitation in the gesture was apparent enough, “Care to give it a try?”