Darcy House and Grounds, Uptown
She knew that she had every intention of resigning from her position by the year’s end and yet the diplomat couldn’t face the prospect of returning to Hox to reside there. A visit, she could just about stomach, even though she was particularly anxious about returning since she’d started to let her rhakor fall by the wayside. But going back there permanently? No, she couldn’t do it. While there were plenty of things about Anaxas that she disliked, she fit here better now than she would at home but once she was out of the world of politics, she had no idea what she was going to do. However, she needed connections, she needed prospects and that meant that she needed to network.
The woman had lost so much time this year, so many opportunities had been allowed to slip through her fingers because she couldn’t control herself. Couldn’t cope with, well, everything. Funnily enough, she was doing better at the moment, not simply because she’d had her mother with her until a few weeks ago — the woman could make her worse in some respects but things between them were improving — but also she couldn’t really drink when it was hot. Oh of course she could still physically imbibe alcohol but it made the Dry Season so much worse to experience.
This particular invitation would be perfect for her needs and frankly, if she turned it down, she probably wouldn’t have a chance quite as good as it before she returned to Hox this winter. Unfortunately, she needed every good opportunity that she could get and didn’t have the luxury of choice. Furthermore, if her father wasn’t already in business with the hosts — she had no idea about all his various business dealings and was probably better off that way — then he might appreciate any information that she could provide.
Drezda hadn’t been to the Darcy home in Vienda before but she had seen it. It was in Uptown — obviously — situated not far from the Zoological Gardens with some land leading to the riverside. It was hardly a sprawling estate compared with rural ones but considering that land in the city was limited and what they possessed was premium real estate, it was really quite impressive, providing them with enough space to host a sizable garden party. Today was another scorcher, insufferable and yet it would be considered a ‘waste’ to spend such a day indoors, making it a perfect day for a garden party — provided that you didn’t mind risking sunstroke.
As industrialists, the Darcys had money to burn and it showed. There were elaborately sculpted topiary hedges dotting the space, flowers woven through them to provide colour; a large fountain with a womanly representation of Alioe pouring the sands of time held pride of place; a glass aviary filled with many different kinds of colourful birds including whice, stood near the house with seating around it; and peacocks with their bright, colourful plumage strutting around the grounds along with plainer peahens.
It seemed that in addition to those casual extravagances that might be common fixtures or new imports — Drezda hadn’t been here before so she couldn’t say for sure — the Darcys had had many tiny tables set out on the grass that guests could stand around. There were some areas with seating, some areas with large parasols. There were also a multitude of human servants dressed in various vibrant hues in the garden, feathers added to their uniforms so that they were like birds flitting between guests. They were ludicrous, providing much amusement to the guests but they were also quite distinctive, even among the various ensembles of the galdori so that no matter how small, no human could blend into the crowd. Each human server carried platters bearing dainty sandwiches and cakes, pots of teas and coffee, and glasses of rosé and flutes of champagne. There were also just as many servers running around picking up after their magical masters, whisking away an army of cups and glasses, dishes with crumbs and smears of icing.
A large block of ice, rapidly melting under the intensity of the sun’s rays, had been placed in what appeared to be a giant metal dish that stopped the meltwater from seeping away. A ridiculously extravagant way of keeping things cool — there were bottles in the dish — and presumably providing ice and cold water for drinking purposes. Some people had chosen to hover beside it, no doubt gaining some relief in the relentless heat and they’d certainly want it; all the Anaxi were wearing far too many layers, far too buttoned up.
While the Hoxian surveyed the veritable circus of the party and its wide variety of guests — politicians, artists, businesspeople, some Brunnhold faculty — she found herself being eyed right back. It wasn’t surprising that she earned stares because everyone else was conforming to prudish Anaxi ideals and the diplomat was showing quite a bit of skin. She had planned to wear something more appropriate for the squeamish, little-minded people at the party, even before today, even when she’d had some idea of what the temperatures would be like.
The Yaris heat had bled through her windows, settling on her skin before melting through it. It seesawed in and out of her lungs, flooding them, scorching them. It filled her up so completely that her own essence was forced out, the woman left to wilt under its onslaught. It had refused to leave her no matter how far into the house she attempted to crawl, no matter how much cool water she splashed on herself and fans she swept in front of her and she had honestly considered trying to cram herself into the icebox like a cat might try to squeeze itself into a box that was much too small for it.
Faced with that, the outfit she had been considering had seemed laughable. She had looked at it and almost been moved to tears. Instead, she had said ‘fuck it’ and quite forcefully at that.
So the galdor had had Rosmilda pile her hair up on her head, twirling it upwards and pinning it in place so that the dark strands wouldn’t stick to her skin, leaving the ivory expanse of her back utterly bare to the waist. Saffron cotton looped around her throat, leaving a small degree of breathing room in the neckline but still reasonably tight, clinging to her chest because it needed to stop the sides from gaping. It was hardly a concern for the Hoxian, there not being a lot of figure to disrupt the close hugging fabric before it reached her waist, and the tightness along with the bare back didn’t really detract from modesty, even though she obviously wasn’t wearing a corset or anything that might be considered standard upper undergarments. The material at the top was subtly doubled to facilitate the masking of anything scandalous in relation to her chest. It was cinched at the waist, the fabric slightly ruffled as it continued its way down to the hem which fell to the knee.
Her shins and calves were bare! Her back and shoulders were bare! And she clearly wasn’t wearing a corset or any decent sort of underwear! She could almost hear them saying it behind fans and hands, murmured over teacups and glasses. They were attempting to judge her but it was fine. She was Hoxian, what she was — or wasn’t — wearing wasn’t a concern to her. Perhaps after all these years in Anaxas, she was a little self-conscious but it could have been worse. She didn’t mind having what she did on display, even though there was freckling on her back, even though she’d had to resist powdering her face to death because her own sweat would end up sliding it off. Her skin being bared to the sun worried her far more than the burning stares, even though an off-white parasol had accompanied her, her little bag’s strap looped around the wrist of the same hand that held the handle.
Drezda allowed her attention to flow over the many bodies, choosing not to acknowledge any eyes that she met which were directed at her and twirled her parasol lightly, considering where to put herself. It had been too long since she’d been to a gathering like this and she wasn’t too sure of herself. Oh she wasn’t bleeding that uncertainty and vulnerability everywhere — at least she hoped she wasn’t — because she thought that she was reasonably blank and her field was close and controlled. After all, she wasn’t stupid. Anybody here who had it out for her or wanted something from her would be able to sense such weakness, descending on her to take their fill as carrion birds sometimes preyed on creatures that were not yet quite dead.
Food or drink seemed good places to start, the former not appealing to and the latter… well, she wouldn’t be drinking alcohol and many of the beverages she saw were hot ones. At home, it made sense to drink tea because it warmed you but here and in these temperatures? Admittedly, the Mugrobi drank kofi and their kingdom must be like this a great deal of the time, if not worse.
Still debating the matter of who to speak to or what refreshments to take, the woman drifted towards the fountain in the hopes of gaining some relief from its cool spray, taking in and analysing a great deal with quick sweeps of her dark eyes. Even so, it didn’t allow her to spot him before he was upon her, field close to her own, her hesitation possibly having marked her as prey and how he loved to taunt her if he had the chance!
“Miss Ecks! What a surprise to see you here! It’s been quite some time since I saw you last.”
The Perceptive mona in her field warmed subtly in recognition of their kin in the man’s own, heedless of how much she detested its owner.
“Incumbent Madden. Indeed. A pleasure as always,” she greeted coolly, inclining her head as the man sketched a bow so shallow that she might have missed it if she’d blinked. Still, she could take some pleasure in her careful response. There had certainly been pleasure for her… in that their paths hadn’t crossed for quite some time.
“Delectable weather for such an occasion as I’m sure you agree. No better way to experience these lovely climes than out of doors with such… varied company, wouldn’t you agree?”
His smile was fixed, friendly but for a show of a tad too much tooth so that he was more reminiscent of one of her father’s precious huthah. No doubt he could see the sweat that glistened on her neck, sticky heat building unbearably where her chin curved to her throat. How terribly drole of him to coax a Hoxian to praise this hellish atmosphere! Of course, wasn’t the joke on him as well?
A silk cravat was tight at his throat, carefully held in place with a pin topped with what might have been pearl. The collar was high, the man mercilessly throttled by his layers and yet he avoided tugging it back despite the fact that he was clearly sweating. And how it must itch! It was no surprise that he shifted his neck subtly from side to side, sometimes seeming to suck it in as if hoping to circulate air that way. If he’d loosen the damn thing himself then he wouldn’t have to suffer so!
Damned masochist!
“Oh I’m sure! Not to mention how well provided for we all are. One wouldn’t expect anything less, of course. The Darcys have the money to host parties that are truly exceptional. Really they’d put other people to shame.”
Her smile was a wan one but there, a small outward display of her own glee at seeing that subtle falter in his own, the way the muscles grew slightly taut in annoyance as his mouth fought to pull into a discontented line.
Yes, that’s right, you ersehole. I am referring to your party last Ophus.
Her attention didn’t quite leave him but she did begin to search about for some means of escape, some excuse for moving out of his reach. If she could only find someone who would respond favourably towards her and perhaps even someone that the Madden prick wouldn’t want to approach. Gods, she wished that Tom was here but she also realised that such public interaction couldn’t be good for either of them, moreso for him as he had a political career to maintain. She hadn’t had a chance to see him since their day in the Stacks and this was hardly her preferred place to encounter him but right now, she didn’t have much room to be choosy.
Frankly, the Perceptive would take anyone right now.
Her eyes found Niccolette and skittered away, the woman barely able to suppress the uneasiness that threatened to disperse through her monic aura as she recalled the manner in which they’d parted company the last time. Perhaps not a total suppression either because the man seemed suddenly keen to be less opaque.
“Ah yes, the whole thing really is quite... intoxicating but I’m sure that you’d considered that yourself, Miss Ecks. I see that you haven’t had any drinks that are on offer though. Alcoholic?”
Even as he said it, he gestured for a server to approach — a dark-haired creature in magenta who could never have gotten away with it if he was ginger — the Hoxian’s gaze suddenly intent on Toibin. There was that knowing, smug little smile perched on his lips as the human with flutes of champagne approached. Drezda wasn’t quite able to contain the fire that must be jumping across the space between them as it blazed in her onyx glare. Her field sigiled, a dull red-shift quickly edging towards a brighter orange-shift like iron heated in the forge as her temper flared. She quenched the response although it was a wonder that stream didn’t rise from her skin.
Fuck it. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought it today so why not now as well?
“Oh yes, intoxicating, I understand. I’m sure that you’ll have plenty of opportunities to bask in such exuberant wealth once your daughter marries into the family. That’s the purpose, isn’t it?”
She waited a beat while shock slackened his features and sent a buzz through his features before adding sweetly, “To forge strong connections.”
Her smile was brighter than before, certainly not a massive display by Anaxi standards but on her rhakor-confined features it was clocking close to a grin.
“It really has been a pleasure speaking with you, Incumbent Madden, but I simply must speak with Niccolette. I’m sure that our paths will cross later if you fancy a chance to talk further. Perhaps then we might speak more candidly?”
The politician had been caught off-guard but he had mastered himself, his field too calm now, his face too rigid for him to be truly unaffected but she still wanted to move away as swiftly as possible before he chose to retaliate.
Turning away from Toibin Madden and past the human who he’d summoned, she paused for a moment, taking a step back to address him instead of simply breezing past.
“My companion mistakenly thought that I’d like some alcohol but what I actually want is tea. Bitter.”
With that said, assuming that the magenta human would find her to provide her request, she moved purposely towards the Bastian who was in conversation with a man occupied with the Sisyphean task of keeping his glasses on the bridge of his nose while he talked, pushing them back up twice in the timespan it took for to reach the pair.
The man was a Living Conversationalist, nowhere near as powerful as the widow with whom he spoke, but the belike particles in her aura hummed in the presence of both Living-heavy fields. The man was inconsequential, not seeming to be particularly threatening but she didn’t want to reveal too much in front of him. She had no idea who he was or who he might be connected with but she didn’t want to risk a—justifiably—chilly reception from the other woman. She might be further displeased at being interrupted, it being unclear whether she wanted to be in this man’s company or not.
“Niccolette! I do apologise for the interruption but I was talking to Incumbent Madden,” her gaze cut briefly but meaningfully back to the politician, “and he reminded me that I needed to speak about the situation we discussed the last time we met — you and I. A situation with another Incumbent. I believe that was at a party as well, a dinner party. There were some striking similarities and I thought that it pertinent that I speak with you about it.”
She looked to Niccolette’s companion, apologetic before shifting back to the sorceress. “Do you recall? I know that this probably isn’t the best time to discuss it, especially as it’s a somewhat personal matter but I thought that you… might wish to be informed. I understand if you’d rather speak about it another time.”
Was she being too cryptic? Would Niccolette recall the discussion they’d had about that lecherous Incumbent who had bothered her that night before she’d come to the Lycat? Of course, there had been another man there who wished to try his luck as well, but she didn’t think she could make reference to that without being too transparent. Perhaps she could broadcast ‘help me’ through her eyes alone without any other part of her face giving her away. Without the other man intercepting it.
Gods, she hoped that Niccolette understood and would talk to her. At the very least, she hoped that ‘personal’ would prompt her to part ways with her current companion.