Coraline Essex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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nextgenerationmarvel2015-07-16 01:21 pm
lena_essex) wrote in nextgenerationmarvel2015-07-16 01:21 pm
A Charitable Function
Lena rested her arms on the rail of the mezzanine, a glass of champagne in one hand, and a paddle with a number printed on it in the other, watching New York City's wealthy elite milling about, inspecting items they intended to bid on later that evening. It was all for a very worthy cause, of course, orphans in Outer Northwest Slobovkistan, or some place like that.
She plucked a canape from a passing waiter, some kind of melon wrapped in paper thin prosciutto ham. She wondered what thinly sliced smoked orphan would taste like with melon, and decided it might be better with strawberries and brie. She thought about how irritating the contact lenses she wore to mask her demonic orange eyes were. She thought about catching that waiter after the auction and devouring his soul.
Her presence at the auction was to acquaint New York society with the lovely daughter of the eccentric and wealthy Dr. Nathaniel Essex, just arrived from London, so they wouldn't question, and would, indeed, welcome her presence among them, all the better to cement her position in the new, improved, Sebastian Shaw-less Hellfire Club. Daddy very much wanted to keep his fingers in - and eyes on - such a potential resource. And it wouldn't do to disappoint Daddy.
She smiled brilliantly at the venture capitalist and his much younger trophy wife who stopped to make small talk with her. The wife was thinking about her latest trip to the salon to be waxed, botoxed, and wrapped in seaweed while comparing herself to Lena's genetically engineered, inhuman physique, and wondering how many carbohydrates were in the marinated mahi-mahi appetizer she had been nibbling on for the past 15 minutes. The husband was chatting away about his latest investment in a company that wanted to build a new high-speed rail system between England and France, while mentally undressing Lena. A quick telepathic image of the wife in a funhouse mirror, and Lena in black leather lingerie, and the couple quickly excused themselves to hurry off to their respective bathrooms.
Lena ambled down the staircase onto the main floor where the auction items were on display. Perhaps this "being nice" was something she could get used to after all.
She plucked a canape from a passing waiter, some kind of melon wrapped in paper thin prosciutto ham. She wondered what thinly sliced smoked orphan would taste like with melon, and decided it might be better with strawberries and brie. She thought about how irritating the contact lenses she wore to mask her demonic orange eyes were. She thought about catching that waiter after the auction and devouring his soul.
Her presence at the auction was to acquaint New York society with the lovely daughter of the eccentric and wealthy Dr. Nathaniel Essex, just arrived from London, so they wouldn't question, and would, indeed, welcome her presence among them, all the better to cement her position in the new, improved, Sebastian Shaw-less Hellfire Club. Daddy very much wanted to keep his fingers in - and eyes on - such a potential resource. And it wouldn't do to disappoint Daddy.
She smiled brilliantly at the venture capitalist and his much younger trophy wife who stopped to make small talk with her. The wife was thinking about her latest trip to the salon to be waxed, botoxed, and wrapped in seaweed while comparing herself to Lena's genetically engineered, inhuman physique, and wondering how many carbohydrates were in the marinated mahi-mahi appetizer she had been nibbling on for the past 15 minutes. The husband was chatting away about his latest investment in a company that wanted to build a new high-speed rail system between England and France, while mentally undressing Lena. A quick telepathic image of the wife in a funhouse mirror, and Lena in black leather lingerie, and the couple quickly excused themselves to hurry off to their respective bathrooms.
Lena ambled down the staircase onto the main floor where the auction items were on display. Perhaps this "being nice" was something she could get used to after all.
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It would also be wise to seek allies lest people back home decide to make it difficult for me to claim what is mine. He didn't believe, not truly, that Father and Mother intended to deny him his birthright. He did, however, know that many people around them were deeply skeptical of Ahura. Many whispered that he was more like his uncle than his father.
Indeed, many whispered that he was his uncle's son, born of some unnatural affair or assault of Maximus upon his mother. Those who spread such lies would be the first to fall when he became King.
But for right now, he found himself carrying a numbered paddle and looking idly around the goods for auction. So far, it confirmed for him that the art crowd in New York would take a great liking to Attilanese wares- and would even more once he'd finalized his donation of several pieces of crystalware to the MoMA. If the rich of New York desired work like it, they would have to pay handsomely. The maker of the crystalware had the power to shape the crystals in any form he desired- and he was one of relatively few who had openly sought the prince's patronage.
He eschewed the champagne- preferring dry, strong reds, the sort of beverage that felt like drinking the blood of some ancient, decadent god. Alcohol was a rare sight in Attilan, usually only consumed sparingly at formal dinners with the royalty. Here, however, the humans drank and ate, mated and fought so much more freely. The freedom, really, was far more intoxicating than the drink.
It was then that he first noticed Lena- and everything else in the room suddenly got more distant, more tawdry and unremarkable. True beauty is a rare thing. He was used, of course, to the wildly huge variations of type amongst his Inhuman kin- variants that were often as beautiful as they were frightening to humans. But this woman struck him as a paragon of the quintessentially human type.
Even more fascinatingly, none of her thoughts registered to him. Normally his own telepathic abilities readily ferreted out the secrets of human minds. He suspected there was more to her than simply the alluring form. He smiled thinly and walked up to her.
"You look as enchanted with this auction as I am. Though, I do find it's interesting to see them scurry about, as if the whole world was this ballroom."
They scurried, scurried about just like ants. He could crush them all if he desired. Ahura waved the thought of his mind for now. Graciousness was an important virtue, after all. As was patience.
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She turned to look at the handsome newcomer, and tilted her head slightly. She couldn't read his thoughts with a casual probe, either, and that piqued her curiosity.
"But, I suppose, networking can have its value."
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He gave an elegant half-bow. "Prince Ahura Boltagon, at your service." His eyes matched hers for a moment and he knew, somewhere, elementally, that she was a very dangerous woman. All the more fascinating for it. If he wanted 'safe' girls, he would have dated more girls in Attilan or perhaps one of the genial idiots that milled about the ballroom aimlessly.
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She smiled, showing off the temporary veneers that covered teeth a little too sharp for such a polite event as tonight. But, the veneers weren't quite as annoying as the contacts. She would have to speak to Daddy about an image inducer soon.
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There was nothing really out of the ordinary in Ahura's appearance, save for a certain strangeness in his eyes. Someone with perception beyond the ordinary could likely see glimmers of the grave. He'd been Death once, not so long ago, and that sort of experience never quite left him.
"Did you find anything to your taste in the artworks and baubles on display?" Ahura himself didn't. He preferred slightly more gothic, intense artworks, and had little use for jewelry and similar things, except perhaps as gifts.
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She had noticed, of course, the hint of danger and death in his eyes, and that intrigued her even more than his telepathic shields.
"Not really. Although there is a small lot of Victorian funerary portraits tucked over in the corner that I'll bid on. My father collects that sort of thing. Other than that..." Lena sighed. "I suppose I'll bid on some piece or another, to do my part for the charity."
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"Of course, we cannot forget the poor orphans." Ahura smiled thinly. It really was no concern of his, but it looked good to be seen to help, even if he thought it'd be more efficient to simply write a cheque. "Perhaps I can find something nice for my mother in the lot. She's rather fond of Impressionists.
What about you? What are your interests, artistically speaking?"
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Lena smiled, those infernal contacts not quite hiding the gleam in her eye.
"I've always admired the works of Hieronymus Bosch. Or H.R. Giger, if you prefer more a more modern style. They're both so much more... intense. They draw you in, don't they?"
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"Bosch is a favorite of mine. I'm less familiar with H.R. Giger, but I'm quite inclined to trust your taste in that field. There are also some artists in Attilan I'm always sure to patronize. Men and women who can integrate sound and emotion right into the paint. Or crystalwork that can take on any form, and will slowly change over the course of a year's cycle.
I intend to have some of it displayed very soon. The Metropolitan has agreed to host an exhibit of Inhuman art. It would be my honour and pleasure to formally invite you to the opening gala, as my personal guest."
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Although that would explain his telepathic shielding.
Trying to think of a way for the Hellfire Club to come up ...
Re: Trying to think of a way for the Hellfire Club to come up ...
Lena smiled. Of course she didn't really believe the 'responsibility' part. But, she was playing a part tonight.
Re: Trying to think of a way for the Hellfire Club to come up ...
Ahura did have a certain sense of responsibility towards Attilan, but he was also looking forward to being able to exercise some of the privileges of princedom.
"Speaking of enjoyment, are you at all familiar with the Hellfire Club?" Of course, most people who were worth anything knew about it, but there was a difference between being aware it existed and being an insider.
Re: Trying to think of a way for the Hellfire Club to come up ...
"The Hellfire Club? Daddy has been a member from time to time."
An original member, for that matter.
"I've been to a few of their functions. They can be quite entertaining, indeed."
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"I've heard great things about it. They're very particular about whom they admit, though. Not that I imagine you'd have any difficulty meeting that standard." He didn't know much about her, but there was a certain aura of power about her that was undeniable. She wasn't just a pretty face, though she certainly had one.
"I intend to join myself. For the parties, yes, but also to meet fascinating, powerful people."
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She gave him a knowing smile.
"You're already a prince, fascinating, and I daresay, powerful yourself. I should think you'd fit right in."
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"It seems we have more and more in common. I've already invited you as a personal guest to the unveiling, but ... perhaps dinner beforehand as well?"
It truly seemed that they had much and more to discuss. And it was difficult not to consider other possibilities as well.
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"I'd be delighted, Prince Ahura."
And the next time she spoke to Lady Selene, she'd be sure to mention this charming Inhuman favorably.
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Always let someone else take the fall. As far as philosophies go, that one had served him well for a very long time.
The bottle of Macallan 1926 he donated was displayed under glass downstairs. While the Chicago mafia had made their money on American liquor, the top bosses often spent their money on imported fare. This particular bottle came into Jerrard's possession through a certain bank vault that shall remain empty. Those were the days.
Previous auctions of the same vintage had gone into the tens of thousands. That ought to feed enough orphans, right?
Snagging a champagne flute from a passing waiter, Jerrard wound his way through the crowd, making polite conversation when necessary. The problem with the rich elite was that they were often as dull as they were wealthy. By his estimate, it would be hours before he lucked upon anyone worth talking to.
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She sipped from her own glass of champagne and scanned the crowd. Those damnable contacts were still irritating her eyes.
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"See anything that takes your fancy?" He asked her with slightly French-accented words.
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"I meant, there are a few interesting pieces."
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"Your first assessment may have been more accurate. I understand completely." Jerrard grinned and extended his hand. "Jerrard Lovel Prideaux, Ms...?"
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"These... affairs" She waved her hand. "Can be quite tedious. But, sometimes one must make an appearance, for appearance's sake. Oh. And the orphans, of course."
Mustn't forget those dammed orphans.
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"If I may be so bold... what might Ms. Coraline Essex be found doing when not tending to the plight of beleaguered orphans?"
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"And what, may I inquire, does Mr. Prideaux enjoy when not enjoying the company of the social elite?"