Achtus 5, 2718 | Khymarah's Home
.It couldn't have taken that long for the Bastian's passive to come to the door and yet she had time to agonise, time to wonder what in the world Rosmilda had written but not the time to ask her. She could hardly ask when they were ushered in, when there was someone there who could overhear every word. How would it sound? Imagine your passive setting you up with a woman! Just deciding that this was the way things ought to be. To have sprung it on Drezda... by the gods, it was cruel. She wasn't well enough for this, nowhere near well enough. Some of it was exhaustion as the ill-hidden bags under her eyes attested but some of it was a dull throb in her head, the feeling of nausea and a desire to collapse on the ground and not get up. As hangovers went, it was a weak one, especially given what she'd endured of late but this time, there was no hair of the dog to help her along.
The Hoxian was simply left with her miseries, which her blasted servant had decided to add to by arranging this meeting. As if she could interact with Khymarah after how they'd parted, after-
She was going to fucking throttle that interfering little bitch when she got home, she swore to Bash.
She handed over her cloak in a distracted fashion, not noticing Rosmilda doing the same, not really seeing Florence as she led the way into the studio. The diplomat was just trying to keep herself together, to stop her field from giving anything away that it wasn't supposed to and so the slight edge to Florence's voice went unnoticed.
Rosmilda noticed it though, green eyes flicking to the other servant with a sharp inquisitiveness. The artist had spoken about her mistress? Likely so if that tone was anything to go by and possibly she'd been just as ill-affected by it. Not in the same way, mind - no one could have had quite the reaction that Drezda had - but it had obviously hurt Khymarah.
Sweet Lady! Two galdori women who quite obviously had something between them and neither of them had been willing to do anything about it. Leave it to a passive.
The dual-eyed redhead would no doubt spot the way that Rosmilda appraised her as if she was the one here to paint rather than the artist. In daylight, she was different than when the passive had seen her last of course, and she was sober this time but she was still beautiful. That nervously happy spirit had been quashed though, a far more sombre guise left in its place but... a guise indeed. Her mistress was too pre-occupied with herself to see it no doubt but the Anaxi saw the little signs that the other was keeping something beneath the surface. Khymarah couldn't hide it as well as Drezda could - at least when she was out because her private and public faces were very different - but the Bastian was still doing a marvellous job.
Two women attempting stoicism instead of opening their mouths and saying what the heck they actually meant. Gods' sake! It was funny to see Drezda seemingly at a loss for words though, slow to return Khymarah's greeting, slow to recall her manners.
"I... It's kind of you to say so," the Hoxian responded slowly, all too aware how bad she must look, especially in this lighting. The passive really had done her best with cosmetics but it was very difficult to hide those bags, the bruising beneath her eyes so ready to bleed through pale make up. The diplomat knew that she looked exhausted and unwell, the other's compliment a blatant lie. They were good at lying though, the pair of them. Better not to say the truth, right?
"My... request, yes, I..." her gaze went to Rosmilda, clearly at a loss for words, uncertain and the passive stepped in smoothly.
"You'll have to excuse my mistress, Miss Theraldon, she's been quite unwell since you last saw her and she hasn't quite been herself. Illness can be quite disruptive, you understand," she told Khymarah before turning her attention to the Hoxian. "You remember that you were talking about Miss Theraldon's art and how you were curious to see it? You did tell me that you'd be interested in commissioning a piece or two although you weren't entirely sure what-"
"Yes, yes, I remember," the diplomat murmured, lying through her teeth as she raised a hand to briefly pinch the bridge of her nose. She offered Khymarah a wan smile. "I'm sorry, Khy- Miss Theraldon, you must excuse me for my behaviour. I'm not typically so... indecisive," she admitted, certain that Rosmilda was ready to beam beside her. She was definitely giving the impression that she was pleased with Drezda's words, possibly because she wasn't simply referring to the present.
A hand moved up to the woman's ebony hair, a nervous flutter showing as she patted it down, closing the space between herself and Khymarah. The distance between them was still perfectly respectable but bringing their fields closer to one another, close enough for caprising to readily occur, which meant that hiding things would become more difficult. Her field wasn't quite a disciplined as before, something wobbly around the edges, a low-lying tremor through the whole thing, a nervous charge. The Hoxian couldn't hide it, couldn't control her emotions in quite the same way especially not since the terror of the backlash, the aftermath of which was still definitely with her mentally.
"I'll admit that I'm... not entirely sure what I want, Miss Theraldon and it was very unfair of me to make a request of you. I- Have I forced you to rearrange everything because if I have seriously discommoded you, I'm more than willing to pay you for your time but... I am interested in seeing your work. I'm more than willing to commission something. I do... I do like art," she finished lamely.
The woman's cheeks had taken on a red tint, even through the powder that Rosmilda had applied to even out her complexion. She gave a soft cough, turning to the passive.
"Would you be so kind as to excuse yourself, Rosmilda? I'm sure that you can leave with Miss Theraldon's passive, I'm sure that she can keep you occupied."
Last edited by Drezda Ecks
on Mon Feb 11, 2019 3:33 pm, edited 2 times in total. word count: 1124