VIENDA | MIDDAY
Athrym fanned herself gently with a fine white lace hand fan as she walked slightly behind Hadrian Siordanti, Nauleth’s father taking it up on himself to take the Gioran Ambassador for an impromptu tour of Vienda’s several Courts, the external walk of the Royal Palace and finally the overly decorated and overly pompus Congress building. The platinum haired foreigner frowned up at the building, sighing heavily and brushing her hair from her shoulders. She’d dressed in a fitted white batiste and blue jacquard day dress, pale blonde locks pulled back in a high chignon.
“It’s quite…it’s…it’s really something.” She said politely, unbelievably bored and completely over the architecture of the capital. Clocks, why in Imaan’s name had she agreed to this? Her frown turned into a pout as she fanned herself more briskly, thinking of all the unpleasant things she wanted to say to the tall red haired professor, looking around at Crosstown Court before turning back to—
“Oh.” The older Siordanti had dissapeared. Athrym turned, and again, and again before closing her fan with a sharp snap. Muttering curses in Gioran, the short Ambassador stomped up the stairs that led into the building of Congress, pushing the door open to look around in the cathedral like reception hall for the wretched politician.
“Some clocking tour.” The woman growled, boots clicking on the polished stone floor and field simmering with frustration. Marching up to the mahogany desk that housed a single solitary receptionist in thin wireframe glasses and grey hair, Athrym tapped her folded fan on the top, rattling a small jar of mints.
“You there. Have you perchance seen Mister Siordanti? Senior.” The old woman looked up slowly over the top of her spectacles with a permenant scowl.
“No, you’ll need to seek him out at his home in—“
“I know where his clocking home is thankyou. I’m not looking to visit him, I have lost him you…” Her temper was running away from her, temple throbbing and summer eyes bright. The receptionist raised an eyebrow, her merger field drawing closer to her person.
“You lost him?” She asked in an incredulous tone, making the young Ambassador feel ridiculously moony. A blush crept across her features and she drew her fan back with a deep breath, before releasing it slowly and stepping back.
“Not like...I don’t mean...oh forget it.” Brushing her hand over her soft skirts, Athrym nodded curtly.
“Thankyou for being of literally no help what so ever. I’ll be sure to pass on my recommendations about Vienda’s hospitality to the Headmistress.” Not waiting to see if the threat affected the wretch, the Gioran grabbed a mint and held it up like a victory medal with narrowed eyes.
“And I’m taking this.” She snapped, popping it in her mouth before storming from the building in a sweep of white and blue skirts, icy scowl on her face and field now all but crackling with anger. Taking the stairs by two, she stopped and the foot of them and huffed.
So, she didn’t quite know the way to the Siordanti residence, but it was too clocking late to go back inside now. And Imaan that was an awful mint. Defiantly, she crushed it with her teeth and swallowed the offensive ‘sweet’.
Now what?
Athrym stood in the heat of the midday Roalis sun, glancing up and down the street, her pout turning into a slightly concerned frown as she tried to get her bearings. They’d come from the left, past the bookshop and the…uh….
”Tocks!”